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theostrophywife · 5 months

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heaven and back.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader x theodore nott.

song inspiration: heaven and back by chase atlantic.

author's note: poly! matty and theo just hits different. the teamwork that these two would put in. whew baby that's a one way ticket to st. mungo's. these men break backs, not hearts 😏

You were good at playing games.

As a matter of fact, Mattheo and Theodore would argue that you were a little too good.

After all, you met your boyfriends during one of Malfoy’s infamous game nights in which you swindled Mattheo and Theodore out of a few hundred galleons during a tense round of magical poker. Ever since that fateful night in fourth year, the three of you became inseparable. Thanks to your slyness, the first Saturday of every month was deemed sacred to your fellow Slytherins. Game nights were reserved for drinking and debauchery, which just so happened to be your specialty.

Though the entirety of Hogwarts coveted an invitation to the longstanding tradition, very few were allowed a glimpse into the inner workings of the serpent’s nest. Tonight, the guest of honor was none other than the Gryffindor golden girl—Hermione Granger. She and Draco only started dating a month ago, but anyone with eyes could see that Malfoy was quite smitten. Before Hermione, Draco had never invited a significant other to game night.

You were determined to give Hermione a warm Slytherin welcome. Hence the special potion you brewed just for the occasion.

With a smirk, you produced the potion from your back pocket. The liquid sloshed around in the glass vial, the iridescent purple mixture flecked with specks of glitter.

“I know that look.” Theo remarked, pulling you into his lap. “What sort of trouble are you brewing, dolcezza?”

Mattheo chuckled and nestled against his shoulder. “Don’t act like you don’t like it, Teddy. You know we both benefit from her mischief. Isn’t that right, princess?”

You smiled, ruffling Mattheo’s curls. “You’re absolutely right, Matty. Tonight, everyone will reap the rewards of my tricks. I concocted a special little potion that’ll make game night a little more interesting.”

Pansy raised a perfectly groomed brow. “What exactly does this little concoction of yours do, Y/N? The last time I drank something you brewed, I ended up streaking through the quidditch pitch.”

“As I recall, I was right beside you, Pans.” Your friend chuckled, nodding in confirmation. “Consider this a social lubricant. It takes the edge off, makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy inside. It’s the perfect balance between feeling tipsy and high. Lowers those pesky inhibitions.”

Draco scoffed. “If this group lowers their inhibitions any further, we’d all be expelled.”

“That’s why we have you, Dray. What good is the Malfoy fortune if it can’t bail us out of sticky situations?”

“Need I remind you that the last sticky situation almost ended with Enzo in the infirmary after Mattheo and Theo convinced him to race backwards on their brooms.”

Hermione watched the back and forth exchange, absorbing the interaction with a small smile.

“Draco’s exaggerating, of course. Anyone would’ve missed the whomping willow in the dark.” The Golden Girl chuckled as you sent her a conspiratory wink, causing Draco to sigh in exasperation. “Besides, Berkshire had fun. Didn’t you, Enz?”

“Oh, loads. I had a blast pulling twigs from my arse for two hours straight afterwards.”

“See? You’re not talking us into taking another one of your poisons, Y/N.”

Enzo shook his head. “Speak for yourself, cousin. I’m definitely in.”

The rest of your friends expressed their agreement. Even Blaise, who would never dream of drinking anything besides the finest vintage, was eager to participate. Mostly to see the others make a fool of themselves, which was perfectly fine by you.

Draco rolled his silver eyes. “Fine. You lot are going to end up talking me into it, anyways.”

“What about you, Hermione? Would you like a sip as well?”

Her warm, honey brown eyes darted around the room. Draco clasped her hand in his, squeezing gently. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, love. I’m only agreeing because I don't want to have to take care of these heathens.”

You nodded empathically. “No pressure, Hermione. You can say no if you’d like, but I am rather proud of my little concoction and it would be an absolute honor if the golden girl partook in our debauchery. After all, you’re dating Draco. You might as well get used to it now.”

A mischievous grin pulled at Hermione’s lips. She shrugged nonchalantly, her curls cascading over her shoulder. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“That’s the spirit, Granger!” cheered Pansy.

You smirked in response and slithered out of your boyfriend’s lap. Both Mattheo and Theo watched intently as you crawled across the plush ornate rug, slowly making your way towards the Gryffindor. Hermione sucked in a breath, her cheeks blossoming into a pretty blush. Her hands, which were laid in her lap in the most prim and proper way, twitched when you knelt before her on the sofa.

Behind you, Mattheo mumbled something into Theo’s ear. When you glanced over your shoulder, your boyfriends were staring directly at you, anticipating your next move. You responded with an innocent smile before turning back to Hermione.

With a sly smile, you held her honey eyed gaze and tapped her bottom lip. “Open up, love.”

Hermione swallowed thickly before parting her lips. You gently cradled her jaw before tipping the vial into her mouth, pouring a generous amount of potion for the golden girl. She looked up at you expectantly, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly.

You rewarded her with a cheeky wink. “Good girl, Granger. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

She shook her head, the flush on her cheeks mimicking her house colors as you wiped a droplet of liquid off of her lips with your thumb. Beside her, Draco sighed. “For Salazar’s sake, stop putting the moves on my girlfriend.”

“What’s the matter, Dray? Are you scared I’ll steal Hermione away from you?”

“You can hardly blame me. You’re a shameless flirt, Y/N.”

You placed a hand over your heart, feigning offense. “Why, I’d never dream of flirting with your lady. You know how jealous my boys get.”

Your boyfriends shook their heads, clearly amused at your attempt to rile Draco up. Truly, your friend made it too easy. You chuckled as the blonde glared at you. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s your turn. Maybe the potion will loosen you up, yeah?”

Draco rolled his eyes, but allowed you to pour the potion into his mouth. You moved down the line, doing the same for Pansy, Blaise, and Enzo. The latter grinned as you ruffled his hair. After Enzo, the only ones remaining were Theo and Mattheo.

“Come here, cara mia.” Theo said, beckoning you with two fingers. “Mattheo and I are waiting.”

“I saved the best for last, boys.”

Mattheo smirked as he pulled you into his lap. You settled against him, making yourself right at home. He kissed the side of your neck, smiling against your skin. “Go on, then. Don’t leave Theo hanging.”

You nodded, body heating as Mattheo rubbed your thighs. Theo raised a brow, his watercolor eyes settling over you. Licking your lips, you couldn’t help but let your gaze wander. Your boyfriend looked rather casual in his emerald jumper and dark jeans, but there was something about the way that Theo carried himself that exuded sex appeal. The cocky smirk on his handsome face told you that he was well aware of the effect he had on you.

Theo cocked his head towards you and opened his mouth. You tipped the vial past his lips, admiring how plush and pouty they looked. Lust darkened your boyfriend’s watercolor eyes as he watched you through hooded lids. The potion dribbled off his chin, making you giggle.

“Oops, I spilled.” You licked the remnants off, lapping up the liquid all the way to the corner of his lips. Mattheo’s fingers dug into your hips as you finished off your little show with a kiss.

Theo grabbed the back of your head and deepened the kiss. He didn’t take kindly to being teased. Never one to shy away from public displays of affection, Theo groaned softly and slid his tongue into your mouth, giving you a filthy open-mouthed kiss before pulling away and winking.

Across the room, Hermione flushed, her lips parting ever so slightly. “Oh,” she whispered softly.

Mattheo chuckled, his laughter caressing your skin as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He turned you over in his lap and tapped his lips. “Me next, princess.”

“Open wide, Matty.”

“Funny. Usually I’m the one saying that to you.”

Your friends groaned at the suggestive comment, but you only grinned in response. Mattheo parted his lips eagerly, not once breaking eye contact as he swallowed the potion. The intensity of his big, brown eyes made your hands shake, causing you to spill a few drops on your fingers. Your boyfriend took your middle and pointer finger into his mouth and sucked them clean.

You gasped in surprise. Mattheo chuckled darkly, catching the vial before it slipped out of your fingers. Behind you, Theo tugged at your hair and titled your head back.

“Your turn now, mi amor.” Mattheo drawled, his voice a seductive song in your ears. He lowered his voice, so only you could hear his next statement. “Be a good girl and swallow.”

The eager nod made both of your boyfriends smirk. Theo gathered your hair in one hand, fisting your locks into a makeshift ponytail while Mattheo poured the last of the potion into your mouth. The liquid was strong and sweet, trailing down your throat and warming your body with a pleasant heat.

“That’s my girl,” Mattheo said. Theo raised a brow, which made the curly headed boy laugh. “That’s our girl.”

“Better,” Theo remarked before pulling you against him.

You settled into his lap, watching the rest of your friends start a game of poker. As always, Draco was way too competitive. Blaise was hustling the hell out of him, but the blonde didn’t seem to notice. Pansy wrapped her arms around her boyfriend’s shoulders, leaning in every so often to whisper things in his ear that made him smile.

Enzo reclined back on the couch, an endearing smile pulling at his lips as he took small sips of his firewhiskey. From his glazed eyes, you could tell that the potion was hitting him the hardest.

Mattheo rested his head on your lap, tugging at your hand in a silent request to play with his curls. You obliged happily, scratching at his scalp and twirling his bouncy locks between your fingers. Every so often, he’d lean in and show you his cards, asking for advice.

As the night progressed, the potion took its effects, loosening both lips and limbs. Theo’s long legs bracketed you from either side, the intoxicating scent of petrichor and cigarette smoke clinging onto him like your own personal drug. Mattheo stared lovingly up at you as you continued playing with his hair.

When you looked up, you met Hermione’s inquiring gaze. She was leaned up against Draco, who kept an arm around her waist, absentmindedly drawing circles underneath her sweater.

She cocked her head, a question forming in her brilliant mind. “So, how exactly does it work?”

You leaned back against Theo’s chest, a playful smirk curving against your lips. “How does what work, love?”

“Having…two boyfriends.”

“You mean, being poly?”

“Poly,” Hermione said, testing out the word. There wasn’t a hint of judgment in her expression, just plain curiosity. Apparently, the Gryffindor girl’s innate hunger for knowledge extended to the intricacies of your relationship. “If you don’t mind me asking. How exactly does a poly relationship work?”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s like every other relationship,” you started, glancing at your two favorite people in the world. Mattheo and Theo smiled back. “We go on dates, we argue about stupid things, then we kiss and make up. Except sometimes the boys like to gang up on me.”

Theo chuckled. “I reckon ganging up against you is the most fun that we have, dolcezza.”

“I’d have to agree with Teddy,” Mattheo interjected as he grinned up at you. “We give teamwork a whole new meaning. Don’t we, princess?”

“See,” you said, waving your arms between your boyfriends. “These sassy men will be the death of me.”

Theo wrapped his arms around you, nuzzling against your neck. “You love us though.”

“That I do,” you replied with a smile.

“Do any of you ever get jealous?” asked Hermione.

Theo nodded. “Of course, it’s a natural part of every relationship, but we have ways of working it out.” Your boyfriend smiled and kissed your cheek. “We just make sure no one feels left out.” He leaned down to place a kiss on Mattheo’s forehead too.

Hermione hummed. “That sounds rather nice, actually.”

“I wouldn’t call it nice,” Mattheo countered with a sly smile. “Y/N can get a little feisty sometimes. You should’ve seen what she did to Lavender for touching my shoulder last week.”

Theo nodded in agreement. “It’s nothing compared to the fight she had with Cho after she tried asking me out. Poor girl thought that polyamory equates to having an open relationship. As if I’d ever need anyone else besides Y/N and Mattheo.”

“So polyamory doesn’t translate to opening your relationship to others,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I’m learning so much.”

Mattheo confirmed her statement with a nod. “Yes, we’re all very committed to one another. It’s only Y/N and Theo for me.”

“While we all adore your wonderful little trio,” Draco cut in. You could tell by the tension in his shoulders that he would definitely not be open to sharing the golden girl with anyone else. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

You chuckled. “Such a party pooper, Malfoy. Don’t worry, Granger’s just asking for education purposes. Aren’t you, Mione?”

“I know what you’re doing, Y/N. You’re devious, you know that?”

Theo smirked at his oldest friend. “Don’t be jealous cause she has more game than you, Dray.”

“After all, that’s how she got us. Right, princess?”

Draco sighed exasperatedly. You rolled your eyes fondly before saying goodbye to everyone. Pulling Hermione into a hug, you winked behind her back as Draco glared at you.

“Thank you for indulging me,” Hermione said softly. “I feel thoroughly educated now.”

“No problem, Mione.”

You kissed her cheek before wrapping Draco into a hug as well. “Stay sharp, Dray. You’ll have to work harder to keep up with this one. Granger’s way out of your league.”

Draco smiled. “I’m well aware.”

Later that night as you laid in bed sandwiched between Mattheo and Theo, you felt the potion reach its peak. You giggled into Theo’s neck, squealing as Mattheo pressed his cold feet against your legs. The three of you were chatting about your day like you usually did, but thanks to the potion, one of you always got sidetracked, leading into cuddles and kisses mid sentence.

Matty spooned you from behind, his possessive grip snaked around your waist like a vice. “I’m not going to lie, watching you crawl towards Granger tonight did something to me.”

“That’s her game, mio amato. You know she loves to tease.”

You turned over to face him, an amused smirk toying at your lips. “I thought you liked my little games, Teddy. At least your lower half did. I could feel you pressing against me all night.”

Theo smirked, grinding his erection against your thigh. “Can you blame me? You knew exactly what you were doing. Admit it, cara mia. You weren’t cozying up to Hermione just to get under Draco’s skin. You were doing it to rile us up too.”

“It worked. I’ve been hard as fuck all night. The way you teased Granger had me thinking vile thoughts.”

“So I’m not enough for you, Matty?” You jested, pouting your bottom lip at your boyfriend. “You want Draco’s girl too?”

Within the blink of an eye, you were pinned underneath Mattheo with your arms raised above your head as your boyfriend glared down at you. “No. If anything, you’re the one flirting with Granger like Theo and I aren’t enough to handle already. Maybe we should remind you who you belong to.”

You hummed in agreement, biting back a smile. “Hmm, maybe you’re right, querido. I’m not opposed to a little refresher.”

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, bella. You just want to be railed until you cry, don’t you? Such a little brat. You could’ve just asked for what you wanted.”

You batted your lashes in response. “But it’s so much more fun this way.”

As retaliation, Mattheo flipped you over on all fours. With a smirk, he leaned back on the headboard and pushed down his gray heathered sweatpants as Theo crawled behind you. He gave no warning as he bunched up your nightdress, pressing a filthy kiss against your clothed sex. You were dripping for him, coating his lips with your taste as he pushed your head down on Mattheo’s lap. You groaned as Mattheo pumped himself between slender fingers, tapping the tip of his cock against your lips. He bucked into your mouth just as Theo plunged his tongue between your folds.

“What was that, principessa?” Theo hummed against your aching cunt. “Matty and I can’t hear you over all that moaning.”

Mattheo laughed meanly as he gathered your hair in his fist, thrusting down your throat with a choked moan. “Put that smart mouth to work, sweetheart.” He thrust in lazily, barely giving you his tip. “Spit on it.”

Glancing up at him through your lashes, you spit on Mattheo’s cock and watched as his head lolled against the headboard. “Teddy? Wanna give me a hand, pretty boy?”

With wide eyes, you gasped as Theo leaned over and pumped Mattheo in his hand before lining up his length against your lips. Theo kissed your cheek before shoving your head down to take inch after inch. Once Mattheo slid all the way in, he pulled out just to slam back in forcefully. You could feel Mattheo hitting the back of your throat, activating your gag reflex while he smirked in satisfaction.

“Gonna shut the fuck up and take my cock like a good little slut, aren’t you?”

You nodded, tears forming in your eyes as Mattheo continued to fuck your throat. As if that weren’t enough, Theo flicked his tongue on your clit and feasted on you from behind like a starved man. He took his sweet time, sloppily making out with your pussy and lapping up your arousal before slipping a finger inside, pumping you as you gagged on Mattheo’s cock. You groaned as Theo pried your legs apart, his intense gaze never leaving your face as he kissed the inside of your thighs. Hooking your right leg over his shoulder, Theo began licking and teasing, his tongue flicking through your folds with expert precision. He sucked hard, lapping your juices up with fervent devotion.

The potion increased the sensations tenfold, intensifying your pleasure as you bucked against Theo’s face. It seems that your less than innocent academic pursuit had truly paid off because both Theo and Mattheo seemed to be affected just as much. The current of the concoction surged through all three of you, slamming you with wave after wave of heady desire. It felt better than drunk sex or fucking while you were high. This was just unbridled lust and want, flooding you with the need to be nothing but an obedient fuck toy for your favorite boys.

Mascara streaked down your cheeks as you cried out for more, fisting the sheets as your boyfriends occupied both of your needy holes. The cries of pleasure were muffled around Mattheo’s cock. Your boyfriend’s breathing grew ragged and his grip grew tighter, his abs rippling as he shot hot ribbons down your throat.

“Good girl. So fucking beautiful, swallowing every drop of my cum like a perfect little whore. You’re flawless, Y/N.”

Theo made quick work of you afterwards. Warmth spread from your core, hot tendrils snaking all over your body as he pushed you to your first orgasm of the night. When Theo crooked his middle and pointer finger inside your gummy walls, you squirted into his mouth with a cry. Despite your cries of pleasure, Theo showed no signs of stopping. His cool breath fanned over your sensitive sex and you whimpered at his ravenous appetite, squirming away from Theo’s tongue. Displeased, Theo flipped you onto your back and dragged you towards him by the ankles.

“I’m not done with you, tesoro.”

Your boyfriend growled and glanced at Mattheo. “Hold her down,” Theo commanded, his pretty eyes sparkling with mischief. “You’re done when I say you’re done. Sit back, look pretty, and let me eat your pussy until you’re sobbing. I’ll make you feel so good, bella. Surely you have another one in you, don’t you, Y/N?”

You nodded, still reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm. Mattheo placed you on his lap, prying your lips open with his fingers. “Theo asked you a question, princess. Use your words.”

Theo smirked. “Give her a minute. I think I’ve fucked her so dumb with my mouth and fingers that she can’t even form a sentence.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Mattheo said with a chuckle. He caressed your jaw, pressing kisses against your shoulder. “Don’t you want to cum again, sweetheart? Either way, you don’t really have a choice. Theo’s going to feast on you no matter what you say. You know he hates being teased.”

“I can take it,” you said in a shaky voice. “I’ll be good, I promise. I just want to make you both proud.”

Theo smiled, revealing the dimples you loved so much. “I know you do, Y/N. We’re not stopping until you’ve soaked the sheets. Now come on, be a good girl and sit on my face.”

You swallowed thickly as Theo switched places with you, laying back on Mattheo’s lap while bringing your hips forward. Steadying yourself on Mattheo’s shoulder, you slowly lowered onto Theo’s face. You grinded against him slowly at first, minding your sensitive sex, but it wasn’t long before you were bucking into his mouth, riding his face like you’d ride his cock.

There was no other word to describe Theo but feral. He gorged himself on you, poking and prodding your wet cunt with his tongue and fingers until your head fell onto Mattheo’s neck, gasping against his skin while Theo’s fingers dug into your hips. You groaned as Mattheo kissed you roughly, whimpering at the overwhelming pressure already building in your core.

As your moans and screams grew louder and louder, Mattheo gagged your mouth with his fingers, shoving his middle and pointer finger past your lips in an attempt to muffle the noise.

“Are you trying to wake the whole castle up, princess?”

“Let her,” Theo said, chuckling darkly as he wrapped his lips around your clit. “Let the whole castle hear what a desperate little slut she is for us.”

You groaned as Theo picked up the pace, fucking you with his tongue until you were coming undone in his mouth. The second orgasm was an out of body experience. Stars exploded behind your eyes as you came with a cry. You could’ve sworn that you went to heaven and back.

As you collapsed backwards into Theo’s arms, your boyfriend grabbed you by the throat and kissed you. The taste of you lingered on his tongue and your eyes rolled back as Theo’s lips claimed yours. He chuckled when you chased his kisses.

“Don’t be greedy, pretty girl. Matty wants a taste too.”

Your lips parted in surprise as Theo grabbed the back of Mattheo’s head and kissed him hard, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip and they both groaned. Theo smiled into the kiss, savoring the taste. He patted Mattheo’s cheek before pulling you into his lap.

“Such a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Theo cooed, caressing your cheek and rewarding you with neck kisses. “I love when you ride my face. You’re fucking perfect. I’m so proud of you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t go all soft now, cariño.” Mattheo teased, licking away the remnants of you from the corner of his mouth. “We’re only getting started. We haven’t even fucked her yet.”

Theo smiled down at you, wiping away the mascara streaks clinging to your cheeks. “Then by all means. Finish the job you started, Matty.”

“I intend to,” Mattheo replied as he loomed over you.

With a wink, Theo spread your legs apart and presented your sopping wet cunt to Mattheo like a present. He reached down and rubbed his middle and pointer finger against your clit, holding your hips in place as you arched off the bed.

“Look at that. Pretty little pussy’s all nice and wet for us,” Theo said with a chuckle. “You’re so eager, aren’t you? So insatiable, dolcezza. Maybe Mattheo and I should give you a double dose. Fuck you at the same time.”

“Yes,” you breathed, mewling as Theo continued rubbing lazy circles against your clit. “Please, please, I need it.”

“Just a cockhungry little slut. You’re fucking greedy, mi amor. Begging for both of our cocks. Don’t worry, baby. We’ll give you what you want. Fill you up like you need.”

You whimpered in response as Mattheo manhandled you, pushing your face into the pillows while he lifted your perky arse in the air. He kneaded your ass, rubbing his cock along your folds. When you grinded against him for more, Mattheo’s palm landed on your right cheek with a hard smack. As you looked behind you, Theo winked before slapping your left cheek. The sting of his palm burned against your skin, making your eyes water.

“What’s the matter, bella? I thought you wanted to play.”

“I do,” you breathed, gripping the sheets. “Please, Teddy. I need more. Spank me harder.”

“Dirty girl,” Theo said fondly. “Ask and you shall receive.”

As his palm came down on your ass over and over again, you gasped for breath, chasing air while Mattheo lined himself up at your entrance. Theo leaned down to kiss the handprints on your arse, biting softly and embedding his mark onto your skin before mirroring Mattheo’s actions. Theo teased against your puckering hole and nodded at the curly headed boy beside him.

He placed a soft kiss on Mattheo’s lips. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Mattheo responded with a grin.

You braced yourself to take both of them, gripping the sheets while they filled you simultaneously. It was a tight fit and you could feel both of your boyfriends stretching your walls.

“Such a good girl,” Theo groaned, moving slowly so you could adjust to his girth. “Letting Matty and I stretch you wide open. Fuck, I love being inside of you. It feels like fucking heaven, tesoro.”

Mattheo groaned in agreement. “Your pussy’s so wet. Does it turn you on to be ruined like this?” You cried in pleasure, mewling as Mattheo took Theo’s hand and placed it on your lower abdomen. “Feel that, mi corazón. Can you feel me fuck her deep, rearranging her insides?”

“Merda, you two are going to be the death of me.” Theo said, his dead eyes rolling back. “Fuck me, I could cum just watching Matty move inside of you, Y/N.”

As the two of them moved in sync, you gasped and panted, tears streaming down your cheeks from the overstimulation. There were so many sensations all at once, overloading your senses, making you writhe and whimper while your boyfriends ruined you. Mattheo tilted your chin, praises dripping from his lips, sweat slicked skin glimmering a pretty golden shade in the dim light.

The hard planes of his abdominal muscles rippled while he fucked you from behind, grasping at the base of your throat until you were gasping for air. “Who’s pussy is this?” Mattheo growled into your ear, his curls tickling your cheek while he released a ragged breath. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“You and Theo,” you breathed. “Only you and Theo.”

Theo smiled at your answer, lacing your fingers together. “That’s right, principessa. You’re ours to love, to fuck, to worship. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh gods,” you moaned, gripping Theo’s hand while wrapping your fingers around the hand that Mattheo had around your neck. “I’m yours and you’re both mine.”

“Damn fucking right,” Mattheo said with a sharp thrust.

As Mattheo’s breathing grew more ragged, you and Theo both knew that he would succumb first. Theo fisted Mattheo’s curls in one hand and pulled him in for a filthy kiss, swallowing the cry that left his lips as he came inside of you. The sensation of him filling you up was too much to handle and the orgasm rocked your body, making your limbs seize as that familiar white hot heat blinded your senses.

Theo was the last to cum, pulling out of your sensitive hole so that Mattheo could wrap his lips around his cock. His endurance was rewarded with vulgar noises as Mattheo gripped his hips in place and sucked him dry.

When your third and final orgasm ran its course, you found yourself laying flat on your back, blinking back up at the ceiling as you regained control of your senses. Through the haze, you blinked and found Theo and Mattheo fussing over you, casting a cleansing spell and wiping your damp forehead with a clean cloth. With a smile, they both leaned in and kissed your cheeks before tucking you safely between them. You hummed, placing a gentle kiss on both of their foreheads.

“You know you two are all I need, right?”

Your boyfriends both nodded, curling against you. “Of course, mi corazón.”

“You’re all we need too, cuore mio.”

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honeyedmiller · 27 days

Text

A Burning Desire part three

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, firefighter!joel, reader feels anxious for a bit, feelings, fluff, the miller brothers line dancing (that deserves its own warning bc whew... anyway), the cowboy hat rule!!!, slight smut (joel and reader get touchy and rub up on each other, making out, fingering), no use of y/n.

word count: 5.6k

synopsis: joel invites you over for a barbecue, and you end up unexpectedly meeting sarah while also rekindling with someone from your past. it isn’t until you talk about joel aloud to someone who isn’t your sister that you realize how deeply you feel for him.

a/n: thank u to @endlessthxxghts for letting me brainstorm about this chapter, and giving me the cowboy hat rule idea... ;)

You were nervous.

Nervous as hell.

The slightly anxious part of you wanted so desperately to back out of today’s plans, but you promised Joel you’d be at his place.

He was throwing a barbecue at his house and had invited you, and originally, Sarah wasn’t supposed to be there. Her friend got sick, so she ended up staying home.

You hadn’t known Joel for more than a month at this point, and the prospect of meeting his daughter and being introduced as the “woman he’s been dating but not quite his girlfriend” terrified you.

The last thing you wanted was for Sarah to dislike you, because you couldn’t bear the thought of the one person in Joel’s life who’s opinion mattered most to him not being very fond of you.

Joel said she’d been okay with him dating and only wanted to see him happy, but wasn’t it too soon? The last thing you wanted was to wedge yourself between the father-daughter duo.

Then again, your feelings for Joel had hit you full-force, and you were in it with him—for him. You’d cried to your sister over the phone about being scared of feeling things too fast, but she reassured you: if you know, you know.

Nobody has ever made you feel the way Joel makes you feel. Your thoughts may’ve been repetitive with what you felt, but that’s how you knew you were so sure about him. He was a breath of fresh air in a place full of smoke (no pun intended).

You were just worried what Sarah would think. Some might think it’s ridiculous to let a fourteen-year-old’s opinion matter so much in this circumstance, but that girl was Joel’s whole world. Her opinion of you mattered and could quite literally make or break your relationship with Joel.

You’d be devastated if it didn’t work out.

You nervously tapped on the steering wheel as you stopped at the last stop sign before turning onto Joel’s street.

The quaint neighborhood just outside of the city was chalk-full of cookie cutter homes, looking like it belonged in a friendly neighborhood magazine.

Several cars were parked in front of his house, but he’d texted you to park in his driveway beside his truck. It was sweet that he saved that spot for you. Another truck was parked in the driveway as well, and you assumed by default that it was Tommy’s.

You grabbed the tray of cookies out of the passenger seat after you’d gotten out and smoothed your sundress to straighten it out. Joel said everyone at the firehouse loved your cookies, especially him and Tommy, so you made them as a surprise to bring for a dessert option today.

Nerves coursed through your veins as you made your way up the front steps of his porch, ringing the doorbell. The chime went off in the house with a muffled “I’ll get it!” coming from the other side of the door.

A few seconds later, the door opened and you were met with a smiling Tommy.

“Hey there sweetheart, c’mon in.” He stepped aside and you thanked him as you entered the house. It was your first time over, so you took a second to take in your surroundings.

Many family photos clung neatly to the walls, the leather couches in the living room adorned with quilted blankets, an array of DVD’s scattered around the entertainment center, a well-worn but gorgeous coffee table that sat atop the huge area rug, and the mantle above the fireplace full of trinkets from past trips and a few of Sarah’s soccer trophies.

You smiled as you took in the scene before you, really admiring how cozy the home looked. It looked lived in and well loved, and it was all very much Joel. Simple, yet homey and functional.

“Ooh, are those the same cookies you made for us back at the firehouse?” Tommy motions to the tray in your hand, bringing you back to present time.

“They are. Thought I’d surprise you and Joel with these again.” You laugh as Tommy’s eyes light up, leading you to the kitchen.

“Don’t blame me if these are all gone by the end of the night. You should give your recipe to Sarah. She loves to bake.” He groans as he takes a cookie from the tray, biting into it.

You have to stifle a laugh at his genuine reaction. You knew your cookies were decent, but not as good as the Miller brothers made them out to be.

“Speaking of, where’s your counterpart?” You teasingly ask, too shy to go into the backyard and introduce yourself to the array of people chatting and having a good time.

You didn’t do too well in new settings, so it would take you a little while to warm up.

“Ah, he’s cookin’ on the grill.” Tommy jerks his head toward the sliding glass door that leads out the backyard, and you follow in his footsteps as you walk up to the main man of the gathering.

“Oh Jooooeeellll,” Tommy calls out with you in tow, “Found your girlfriend for ya.” He teases, and your heart skips a beat at that. You’re just dating the man. It wasn’t anything official yet, and somehow it just seemed so fitting.

Joel didn’t correct Tommy either, which you took note of as his gaze averted to yours. A smile immediately spread onto his lips and he pulled you into a hug, kissing your forehead. You took a second to study the contrast of his tan skin against the white linen shirt he was wearing with the first few buttons undone, and the Raybans that sat comfortably on his face. You held in a groan, because fuck he looked so good, once again. Does this man ever look bad?

“Hey baby.”

Your face heats at the public display of affection, but it dawned on you that he was never trying to hide you or keep you a mystery like you were doing to him.

Well, your sister knew about him of course, but everyone else in your family didn’t have the faintest idea. They were too overbearing sometimes, and you wanted to be official with Joel before you even said a word to anyone about him.

“Hi handsome. I brought some cookies but left them inside. Thought I could surprise you again with them.” You grin at him, and he smiles as he pulls you into his side.

“I’m gonna let you two lovebirds have a moment to yourselves. Gonna go find my lady and introduce you to her.” Tommy pretends to tip an invisible cowboy hat and sends a wink your way. You huff a laugh and shake your head at his wit.

“He always that charismatic?” You question, and Joel laughs.

“It’s even worse when he’s drunk.” He rolls his eyes, and you bury your smile in his bicep. You wrap your arm around his back as you watch him work the grill, flipping hamburgers and chicken that are seasoned to perfection.

“‘M glad you could make it today, darlin’. Was startin’ to miss ya real bad. Those twenty four hour shifts kick my ass, I tell ya.” He sighs and gives your body a light, playful shake.

“Of course, Joel. I missed you too.” You gave his shoulder a kiss before Tommy called your name to avert your attention to him. Your eyes flit to the woman he has his arm wrapped around, and your eyes widen in shock.

“This is my girl–”

“Maria?” You interrupt Tommy, and her smile spreads wide.

“Oh my god! Hey you! How long has it been?” She’s laughing as you two embrace each other while the Miller brothers give each other a confused glance.

“Four years I think? How are you?” You grin, separating from her, holding onto her forearms.

“Wow I can’t believe it’s been that long. I’m great! Just dealing with this guy over here,” She juts her chin over to Tommy, and his eyes flicker between you two.

“Sooo you two know each other?” He asks, and you both laugh in unison.

“We used to work together at the same company. Our cubicles were across from each other.” Maria explains, and you nod along.

“Well I’ll be damned. Small world!” Tommy grins, patting Joel on the back harshly. Joel glares at his brother and rolls his eyes, turning back to the grill to take the food off and place it into the foil pans next to him.

“Dad, is the food done yet? You hear a voice call, and you stiffen up immediately. Maria notices your change in demeanor and gives your arm a squeeze of reassurance, which you exchange for a weak smile.

A curly-haired girl with bright green eyes comes into view. He turns to look at her and nods, motioning to the foil pans.

“Lemme fix you up a plate. But first, I want you to meet someone.” He says, and he holds his hand out to you. Maria releases your arm so you can step forward and grab Joel’s hand, and Sarah’s bright green eyes meet your gaze.

“This is the woman I’ve been datin’. Darlin’, this is my daughter Sarah.”

You extend your hand to her with a sincere smile, hoping she didn’t pick up on your nerves.

“Ah, so you’re the woman my dad can’t stop talking about!” She laughs, flashing you her gorgeous smile.

“Oh really?” You quirk an eyebrow up and look at Joel, nudging him playfully.

He raises his hands in defense, “Guilty as charged.” You huff a laugh at Joel and shift your gaze back to Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you as well.”

“Do you mind if I steal her for a second, dad?” Sarah asks, and you can’t help but feel extremely anxious. You genuinely don’t think a fourteen year old has ever made you so frazzled with nerves like this before.

You follow her to the lounge chairs by the pool, taking a seat across the one she sat in.

She slaps her thighs with her hands, a small smile evading her lips.

“So,” She starts, seemingly collecting her thoughts. “This isn’t some ‘what are your intentions with my dad’ intervention, I promise. But, like, I really hope you’re serious about him.” She looks at you with apprehension in her eyes, and you’re a bit taken aback by her words.

You could’ve guessed this was coming. Judging from what Joel has told you about their relationship, it was only fitting that she’d be so protective of him.

“I’ve seen him get hurt before. Not just by what my mother did, but with other women, too. I honestly think you’re the first woman who didn’t skip out on him after finding out he has a kid.”

“That would never make me run. Your bond with your father is something that’s so strong, and I would never want to come between that. I can promise you that your dad has a better chance at breaking my heart than I do breaking his.”

“He won’t. He’s a good man and he deserves someone kindhearted like you. I can tell you are. I’m glad you two found each other. I haven’t seen him this happy and relaxed in… a long time.” Sarah laughs, and you can’t help but smile at her admission.

“I pinky promise I’ll treat him great. He’s a real special guy, and I like him a lot.” You hold your pinky out to her, and with a beaming smile, she hooks her pinky with yours and gives it a little shake.

“I know. It’s just nice to finally see him getting his feelings reciprocated back to him. Most women only romanticize the uniform he wears and not the person he actually is.”

“Well, I gotta say, they all definitely missed out on an amazing man.” And part of you was thankful for that, which is something you didn’t want to admit aloud.

Because if it weren’t for those women in his past that didn’t work out with him, you would’ve never had a chance with him. You glance over at Joel, and he was chatting with some other guests. You couldn’t help admire him and his calm, happy demeanor.

As if he senses you looking, he turns his head in your direction to meet your gaze and winks. You offer him a soft smile before turning back to Sarah.

“They are, but something tells me you’re here to stay. Not saying that to like, I don’t know, scare you off or anything, but you and him really do make a nice couple.”

“Actually,” You huff a laugh and glance over at him once more, “He hasn’t asked me to be official or anything yet. I am here for the long haul, though, and I want you to know that I respect you and your relationship with your dad. I wouldn’t ever want to overstep any boundaries.”

Sarah groans and huffs, rolling her eyes as she looks over at Joel. “This man, I swear. Want me to yell at him for you?” The mischievous glint in her eye tells you she would actually do so.

You shake your head with a laugh, and she puts her hand on your shoulder as she leans forward.

“Also, you don’t need to worry about overstepping. It’s… nice having someone else around. I appreciate you saying you respect our relationship, though. Dad was always apprehensive about bringing women over because my opinion means so much to him. You’ve got my approval in the bag, though.”

“I appreciate that, Sarah. I’m sorry if meeting me was too soon or awkward for you. I wasn’t expecting to exchange pleasantries today.” She grins and waves her hand between your bodies at your words.

“Nonsense. I’ve been pretty excited to meet you, seeing as you have my dad crushing like a teenage boy again. I just want him to be happy, and I know he is with you.” She throws her arm over your shoulders, and you immediately reciprocate the hug.

Admitting to Sarah that you were in this for the long haul even shocked you. It’s not that you didn’t want to be, but your love life in the past hasn’t exactly been to your liking. Joel is different, though, and seeing that he has people in his corner who love and care about him tells you that they’d go to great lengths to protect him.

It was crystal clear that both of you wanted whatever was going on between you two. You were apprehensive to put your all into it.

You’ve been known to pull back when things got serious. It was a defense mechanism to protect your heart and peace.

You knew you were falling, but the million dollar question still remained: would Joel catch you?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Sarah separated herself from you.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” She says, and she coaxes you to follow her back to the grill where Joel and Tommy stood.

“Everythin’ good?” Joel asks, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You nod and offer him a smile.

You were about to go after you plated your food, but Joel shook his head and gently pulled you back to him.

“Uh uh, where you goin’?” He has a goofy grin on his lips as he pulls you in, giving you a kiss. You can’t help but laugh against his lips and gently push him away.

“There’s people here, Joel!” You playfully tsk, and he squints his eyes.

“What, I can’t kiss my girl?”

My girl. The phrase made butterflies swirl in your stomach and heat to rise to your face.

“Never said that, but technically, I’m not your girl yet.” You quirk an eyebrow at him.

Tommy laughs and nudges Joel, “Damn brother, you haven’t asked her to be official yet? Hell’s wrong with ya? Hop to it!”

“Coming from someone who didn’t settle down until like a year ago. Shut up you little shit.” Joel huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Was watin’ for the right one! Then this beauty changed my life in the best way possible and put me in my place,” Tommy pulls Maria into his side, kissing her cheek. She rolls her eyes and nudges him playfully, walking back into the house before Tommy points at you. “‘N this missy right here is gonna do the exact same for ya. Don’t be ‘fraid to put him in his place, sweetheart, he needs it.” Tommy howls with laughter as Joel glares at him.

“So fuckin’ dramatic.” Joel mumbles under his breath.

“So what, you don’t want me to put you in your place?” You’re enjoying seeing him squirm a little as your hand traces circles over the white linen that clings to his back.

“Nah, it ain’t that. You can put me in my place anytime, baby.” He winks, and you immediately pick up on the innuendo behind his voice.

“You’re fighting with fire, Mr. Miller.” You murmur to him, and his hand moves down to your ass to give it a subtle, playful squeeze.

“‘S my job, baby.”

“Don’t think this is one you can put out.” You wink at him before walking away to join Maria in the house.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” Maria situates herself on the couch with a glass of wine. You sit down next to her and tuck your legs under yourself, smoothing your dress out before leaning your head on your fist. “How in the world did you and Joel become a thing? What happened to that one guy that you used to tell me about?”

You laugh at her enthusiasm toward your love life, inhaling a deep breath before diving into the story about your shitty ex and all the stupid trust issues he gave you. He really did a number on you, which is why you were so content with being single and thriving. You told Maria that you kept your guard up to protect yourself and your heart, because the last thing you wanted was to give your all to someone once again, only to be burned. Maria put her hand on your knee as a reassuring smile spread across her lips.

“Honey, I can promise you that that man standing out there has it bad for you. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve been seeing each other. I can see it in the way he looks at you,” Your gaze trails out to the backyard as Joel sips on a beer, talking with Tommy and a few others who you presume are the neighbors before Maria’s voice pulls your attention back to her, “Joel is a good man, and despite the way you both have been hurt in the past, you still both found each other and gave this,” She waves her hands to gesture between you and him, “A chance. Lord knows that man could use a good woman like you in his life.”

You felt the sting behind your eyes immediately. Maria’s words were nothing short of assuring, and she smiles as you wipe your tears with a small laugh.

“Baby, just because you finally got the flame on your candle to burn bright again, doesn’t mean he’s going to dim yours. His is finally strong on its own, too. I know that you’re so independent and you’ve been used to it for some time now, but let his flame make yours even stronger. You can be stronger together.”

And you knew she was right. The clarity blindsided you, but you got your answer: Joel would one hundred percent, undoubtedly catch you.

A few hours later, the sun had started to set and the neighbors went back to their respective homes, leaving you, Maria, Tommy, Joel and Sarah left. You and Maria insisted you help clean up even though Joel and Tommy both told you it wasn’t necessary. You both waved them off and got everything put away and washed in less than an hour.

Maria refilled her glass of wine as you poured yourself one and both went to settle back onto the couch, Joel and Tommy in tow. Sarah came running down the stairs and up to Joel, a pleading look strewn across her features.

“Kelly invited me over to a night swim and slumber party. Can I go? Please?” She had a hopeful look as she clasped her hands together to shake them, silently begging Joel to say yes.

“I thought she was sick?” He asked, running his hands over the stubble on his chin.

“No dad, Sasha is the one that’s sick.”

You tried to stifle a laugh at her ‘duh’ tone, so you just bit your lip and stared at him. He sighed and looked at you, his demeanor changing in the slightest.

“Sure, but please check in with me every few hours or so. Do I need to drop you off?” He asks, resting his beer bottle on his thigh.

“Thank you!” She throws her arms around him, and he grunts as he returns the hug. “No, Kelly’s mom offered to pick me up. She can drop me back off tomorrow, too.” She says, and before Joel can get another word in, she rushes back upstairs.

Joel sighs as he leans back into the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Teenagers.” He grumbles, taking a swig of his beer. You pat his thigh and lean into him, giving him a smile.

“Well now that it’s just goin’ to be adults, why don’t we get the real party started,” Tommy wiggles his brows, and all three of you look at him in confusion. “‘S a joke, people. Sheesh. How ‘bout some music, though.” He connects his phone to the speaker sitting on one of the shelves, playing a mix of late 90’s and country music.

Joel finds himself leaning into you as one of his hands slips below the hem of your dress, drawing circles into the skin of your thigh. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and he looks at you with a quirked brow, clearly pleased with your reaction to his touch.

You got turned on so easily now. It wasn’t fair. Just one look alone from the older Miller brother could have your panties around your ankles in milliseconds, and you truly weren’t above begging him to touch you.

The smug smirk on his face told you he knew it, too, but you both agreed to take things slow. You couldn’t even remember why you agreed to such a thing, because the tension between you two had been through the roof since your date at the fair. You truly didn’t know how much self restraint you had.

Maria’s laugh had ripped through your thoughts, earning your undivided attention.

“No way. I don’t believe you.” She says, laughing at Tommy.

“‘S true! Joel and I are a couple ‘a Austin’s finest line dancers.” Tommy shrugs, looking over at Joel.

“Those days are long over, brother.” Joel groans, leaning his head back onto the couch.

“Bullshit. Betcha still know how to dance to Brooks & Dunn.”

“Even if I did—”

“C’mon cowboy, show us what you got.” You tease, and Joel shakes his head.

“Mm mm. Won’t do it unless you ladies do it with us.” He negotiates, and your eyes flit to Maria who smiles upside down and shrugs her shoulders.

“Wouldn’t hurt to learn.” She says, and you nod in agreement.

“It’s settled then.” Tommy slaps his thighs, standing up and offering his hand to Maria. Tommy tosses Joel his Stetson off of the coat rack which Joel catches with ease, putting it onto his head as he grins at you, offering his hand to help you stand up.

“Hey dad! Kelly’s mom is here– oh god, are you and Uncle Tommy line dancing again?” She groans, and Joel holds his hands up in defense.

“Uncle Tommy coaxed me into it and these lovely ladies here wanna learn. Not my fault.”

Sarah rolls her eyes and looks between you and Maria. “Good luck with these two knuckleheads. It was nice to meet you!” She says as she heads for the door.

“You too!” You call back.

“Text me when you get there, please.” Joel calls out to her, and she says ‘kay!’ before the front door shuts behind her. Tommy plays the familiar tune of Boot Scootin’ Boogie, and Joel stands next to him before they start to dance in sync. They both hold on to the front of the waistbands of their pants where their belts would presumably be as their footwork syncs up perfectly.

You and Maria watch in awe as they move together effortlessly, mentally noting the moves they’re repeating. Maria nudges you and you look at her with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Girl, are you seeing this? Got damn near ten degrees hotter in here just watching my man dance.”

“Tell me about it. If Joel and I weren’t taking it slow, I’d probably jump his bones right now.”

“More power to you. I couldn’t do that even if I tried my damndest.”

“Trust me, it’s hard. Especially when he looks like… that.” You stare at Joel as he lets the familiar movements flow through his bones, dancing on beat to the upbeat song. He looks at you and shoots you a wink, making you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“C’mon ladies.” Tommy waves you both over, and you both join in with them. It takes a couple of tries to sync up with Joel, but you’re eventually moving with him. He takes your hand and spins you, pulling you into him as he presses you flush against his chest.

You smirk at him and pluck his Stetson off of his head, putting it onto yours. Joel moves his hand to the small of your back, causing you to practically grind into him while you dance. You bite your lip and bat your lashes as you can feel the tension in Joel’s body that desperately needs relief. He shakes his head with a chuckle, leaning in as his lips brush your ear.

“Ever heard of the cowboy hat rule, baby?” His voice is raspy and low. He noses at your jawline before leaving a kiss below your ear, pulling his face back into your view.

You shake your head no, and as the song ends, he gives Tommy a look before intertwining your hand with his to lead you upstairs.

“Joel—” You start, but as soon as you step into his bedroom, he closes the door and locks it. He cages you in between both of his strong arms, hands resting on either side of your head as he pops his knee out. It’s dangerously close to your aching cunt, and if you moved forward just a bit, you could easily grind yourself onto him.

The thought was tempting but your mind went blank, the close proximity between you both making your head spin.

“The cowboy hat rule,” He starts, leaning down to kiss your neck, “Is when a lady takes a man’s cowboy hat off of his head n’ puts it on herself. Means that the lady wants to be with the man and essentially wants to do more with him.”

“M-more?” Your breath catches in your throat as his hot tongue glides over the warmth of your neck. You’re beginning to pant harder, hands twitching at your sides, aching to touch him.

“Mhm.” He slots his thigh between your legs, and you can’t help the soft moan that bubbles in your throat at the delicious friction.

“Had a whole romantic thing planned in my head on how to ask you to be my girl, but fuck baby, I can’t wait no more. I know it ain’t been long, but I really want you to be mine. ‘N I sure would love to be your man.”

Your brain starts to function a little better, so you bring your hands up to cup his face. You can’t help the grin that spreads on your lips, Joel mirroring you.

“Don’t need fancy. Just need you, baby. I’d love to be yours, Joel.”

And he steals a searing kiss from you, arms wrapping around you as he moves you both backwards toward his bed. He takes his hat off of your head before setting it on his dresser, sitting down on his bed as you follow suit and straddle him. His hands hold onto your thighs, teasing you as they move underneath the hemline of your dress.

His lips separate from yours and he buries his face into your neck, kissing and licking your soft flesh as he grabs a handful of your ass. You can’t help but grind yourself into him like last time, the carnal desire for him shredding through you as your self-restraint dwindles down to nearly nothing.

“I-I know we said slow, but baby, can I touch you?” He asks, and you fervently nod your head. Your thoughts were so jumbled that you couldn’t be bothered to form a coherent response. Your senses were all-consumed by this man under you—your boyfriend. You smile at the thought before your jaw goes slack when his hand moves your underwear to the side, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

You bite your lip to stifle the whine that shoots through your chest, heart leaping into your throat. You knew it wouldn’t take much for you to come undone if Joel kept teasing you the way he did.

“Shit, baby, you’re so fuckin’ wet. This all for me, pretty girl?” He asks, his Southern drawl as thick as honey, darkened eyes meeting yours.

“Yes.” You cry, rutting your hips against his fingers.

“Can I?” He asks, prodding the tip of his fingers at your entrance. You nod once again, gripping onto his shoulders as you begin to leave kisses across his neck and collarbone. He slides a finger down to the knuckle in you effortlessly, and you can’t help but nip at his neck as the sensation courses through your body.

His one finger alone could reach places yours never could, and it made you dizzy. He slipped another finger into you, the stretch stinging in the slightest as you rocked onto his hand.

“So fuckin’ tight, baby. There you go.” Joel guides you as he begins to move his own fingers, curling them in your warmth. He was hitting that spot that you could barely ever reach, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your head fell back, panting his name repeatedly as you felt the coil already tightening in your core.

“So fuckin’ pretty, hm? My girl is so gorgeous like this, gettin’ herself off on my fingers. Look like a fuckin’ angel, darlin’. Such a good girl.” Joel praises you, and your head snaps up as your eyes meet his. He has a devilish smirk on his lips as you thread your fingers through his curls, smashing your lips to his. He groans into the kiss and picks up the pace of his fingers, your arousal now dripping down to his wrist. He felt your pussy clench around his digits, and he was coaxing you to come undone.

“That’s it baby. Can feel ya, I know you wanna cum. Give it t’me.” He says, and he swallows your moans in a kiss as the band snaps in your core, body convulsing as you ride out your orgasm.

You’re breathless as you slump against him, kissing his neck repeatedly as you try and catch your breath.

He slowly slides his fingers out of you and you moan at the loss of fullness, gaze meeting his once again. He slips his fingers coated in your arousal into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he tastes you. He leans in to kiss you, and you can easily taste yourself on his tongue.

“So fuckin’ sweet. Can I taste all of ya?” He asks, and you don’t even think twice before you nod. He flips you around onto the bed, kneeling onto the floor as he hooks both of his fingers into the waistband of your panties. You’re about to lift your hips so he can slide them off of you when a sharp knock on his door sounds.

He groans and sits on his haunches, forehead falling onto your thigh. You giggle and sit up, running your hands through his curls.

“What, Tommy?” Joel calls out, and Tommy laughs on the other side of the door.

“Jus’ lettin’ ya know Maria ‘n I are gonna stay in the guest bedroom. The hell are you doin’ in there?”

Joel gets up with a grunt and stalks toward his bedroom door, unlocking it before swinging it open.

“None of your goddamn business. That’s what.” Joel rolls his eyes, and Tommy raises his hands in defense.

“Shit, my bad!” He looks past Joel and winks at you, and your face heats up immediately.

“You have five seconds to get out of my face before I beat your ass. Fuckin’ cockblock.” Joel grumbles, glaring at his brother.

“Fair. Carry on. Wrap it before you tap it!” He turns on his heel and trudges down the stairs, and Joel turns back around to look at you, face beet red.

“Ignore him.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Noted,” You pat the spot next to you and he rejoins you on the bed. “Now where were we?”

tags: @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @clawdee ; @pascalpvnk ; @bensonispunk ; @merz-8 ; @darkblue-tennesseee ; @buckyispunk ; @untamedheart81 ; @picketniffler ; @fluffygoffpanda ; @paleidiot ; @typewriter83 ; @lizzie-cakes ; @sawymredfox ; @keylimebeag ; @nandan11 ; @pedropascalsbbg ; @pimosworld ; @yxtkiwiyxt ; @anoverwhelmingdin

divider by @saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller imagines #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au #firefighter!joel #firefighter!joel miller #joel miller smut #fic: a burning desire

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storydays · 4 months

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🧡John Dory:

Whew, boy, are you in for a treat!

So it'd been 20 years-ish, since he'd been in Pop Troll culture, so he is out of practice when it comes to intimacy.

100% an ass and thighs man: You bend over in front of him, no matter what you're doing, instant hard on.

He's more of a grower than a shower: 5.1 inch normal and 5.3 when hard (Correct my if this is wrong bc I know nothing about penis education lmao)

Play with his ears, or even his tail, and he is instant putty in your hands.

Turn-ons include: edging (giving or receiving), eating you out/blowing you, (loves receiving more than giving but will still pleasure you as well as you did him) tying you up (and he knows some different knots from his adventuring days) and many more that I can't think of lol.

Def gives me top vibes but once in a while you'll catch him off guard and top the hell out of him

When you do top him, he is such a whiny little bitch, and you hold him there for hours until the sunshine peeks through your curtains.

Leave hickeys on his neck and he'll happily wear them and preen when you press a soft kiss to them when you're jealous.

When it's jealousy sex, angry sex, or sex in general, the bed will be creaking, Rhonda will be shaking, and anyone who happen to walk by the armadillo-bus will know exactly what's going on and run away in horror at the noises they heard.

He is a caveman when you first meet but starts to clean himself up a bit.

Is a total mess when it comes to cum. He cums buckets in you (if given consent), on your face, stomach, anywhere really.

Bruce:

Ooh, this is gonna be fun

So Bruce has had his fair share of lovers, and knows his way around different genitalia and how to expose his partner's feel good spots.

Ugh, please please pull his tail

Just like the rest of him, he's pretty girthy down there, but is still long enough to hit those special spots.

His hair is beautifully tamed, which means he is tamed down there too, and even learned to make different shapes and designs out of pubic hair.

Def a a shower and grower: 3.5 when flaccid, but a whopping 5.5 when hard

He knows how to use his mouth, hands, and tail to make his partner scream

Def a power bottom; watches you through half lidded eyes as you take what you want from him, occasionally praising or degrading you, depending on his mood.

He's a attentive lover, and will cherish everything about your lovemaking, and make sure you're okay.

Turn ons include: hair (only time) and tail pulling, you making eye contact with him while making lewd gestures, being a brat and teasing him, morning 69, and loves when you surprise attack him; so many emotions flood through him, and he allows you to take some control, before he takes over and pushes you over the edge, with a smug smirk.

Sex is like a game to him: the end goals are making you feel like a million bucks and making you drunk on his love. Will tease you by cumming first, before he allows you to cum.

He is one smug son of a bitch when you can barely walk, or when someone makes a comment about the hickeys on your body (he leaves them everywhere), or about the scratches and bite marks on his back.

📚 Clay:

Okay, so he wants to be the best you've ever had, so this bookworm absolutely studied up on how best to pleasure you. STUDIED FOR DAYS, and even studied while they were attempting to pleasure you.

Annoyed, you snatched the book from him, and turned the tables on them.

He's pretty average, right in the middle both length and thickness so pretty enjoyable for both parties.

Prefers giving than receiving, adores when you use your hair to hold him in place

THEY ABSOLUTELY ADORES THICCCCC THIGHS; (Yall see how thick Viva's thighs are? #CLIVIA )

Would spend hours in between your legs if you let him

Quite noises escape him....unless you bring out the dark green strap on and/or cock ring...then it's the Theatre Du Chatelet in y'all bedroom!

(Their brothers' overheard y'all one time, and the next day they all avoided your smirk and Clay's bright purple blush when you make a smart comment.)

Everyone sees him as serious/fun, but when you two are intimate, it's just Daddy and Baby Girl, it's up to you to figure out which is which, (😉)

Always uses protection just to prevent any accidents.

With you, he can let go of labels and just be Clay and they love you for that.

Turn ons: that strap on/cock ring, dem thighs, being pulled closer when they go down on you, you taking control, just you in general, teasing him in public, making suggestive comments in his ear while his brothers' and friends are around and he can't do nothing but try to make the blush go away and ac natural, glaring darkly at you when no one was looking.

He is clean and trimmed down there.

808 notes · View notes

marthawrites · 7 months

Note

"don't shut me out. please"

I hope it is not too late for me to join the celebration ☺️ Congratulations! 💕👏🏼

Thank you sooososo much! You are such a gem and I appreciate all of your fandom love more than you know! I did my best to include a (one shot appropriate) slow burn, angst, and a happy ending. I hope you enjoy this ride MWAH!

Summer's End, Autumn's Beginning

Modern Aemond Targaryen x fem reader

Word Count: 6.3k+

About: A chance encounter with Aemond leads to a whirlwind of emotions. Over the next few months you both fail, in yourselves and in the relationship, and learn from the mistakes.

Includes: Chance encounter, age difference (references to Aemond x Alys) mentions of cheating, allusions to cheating, angst, second chance romance, and smut featuring vaginal fingering, possessive sex, and unprotected protected vaginal sex

Note: Hello lovely reader! This is the longest piece I've wrote in quite awhile - whew! I also feel like it's one of the more ambitious one-shot fics I've worked on/completed. Reader is non-descript. As always, please, enjoy!

There were two things tied for number one on your five-year goal list.

First, be out of your city apartment (preferably as a home owner and not a renter)

Second, have a dog.

They went hand in hand. One couldn’t happen without the other. So, it was a hard tie and you weren’t willing to budge on either. Until then, to take the edge off your self-proclaimed animal loneliness, you volunteered at a local shelter two nights a week. Mondays and Wednesdays.

While your day job wasn’t a doctor, lawyer, or professional athlete – ones that your family pushed you to have while growing up – it still paid decently and had the potential for career advancement. And! You were able to live on your own. Not having a roommate was worth the dry job description. Besides, your boss was fair and most of your co-workers were friendly; a win win, really.

Tonight, Monday, you finished your shift, went home to change, then headed out to the shelter. Even though it was all volunteer hours you valued punctuality and did your best to get there around the same time each night.

“Hey! You made it!” Arryk called out to you when you stepped inside the building. Chaos sparked all around. He did a great job running and maintaining the schedule, and with the help of volunteers alongside regular staff, it was, more often than not, smooth sailing. Tonight, however, it appeared quite the opposite.

“Hey! Yeah, a few minutes later than usual, sorry!” You said as you walked over to him.

He waved a hand brushing off your apology. “No worries. We had a few people call in today. So, since being short staffed we’re definitely running behind. I know you normally help bathe the dogs with Baela tonight, but can I ask you to do something else instead?” He winced slightly with his question, unsure of your answer. He knew how much you loved Baela and cleaning the dogs!

You squinted at him suspiciously. “Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, crossing your arms. “You know I won’t administer shots. If I could get over my fear of needles I’d be a veterinarian and not an office worker like I am!” You scrunched your brows before one, all on its own accord, arched up dubiously.

“Ha!” He laughed. “No no no, I know. We have six dogs that need walking tonight. And I don’t think Targaryen can handle all of ‘em.”

“Helaena? She’s back?” You asked, eyes bright with surprise.

“She’s still away for that college trip. It’s her younger brother, Aemond. Have you met him before?”

You’d heard Helaena talk about him, of course, but you’d never met him. Shaking your head, you peered around the shelter looking for anyone else with the Targaryen tell-tale silver-blonde hair. No one caught your eye. “I haven’t. But, I don’t mind.”

“You are a lifesaver!” He praised. “He’s down the west hall getting them ready. Depending on how long you're here afterward, there might be another couple who could use a second walk. Terriers. You know how they are.”

“Happy to help, Arryk!” He was a good guy. You’d always liked him.

“Aemond’s tall, towheaded as the rest of his family, and has an eyepatch. You can’t miss him.” And with that Cargyll switched tasks and got right back to work.

Turning and walking down the west hall, you were happy to say, chaos began to fizzle out. This hall had the larger dogs; no wonder Aemond wouldn’t be able to walk all six at once. Even with the slow turn of summer to autumn sunset wouldn’t be for another three hours. Assuming all went well you’d be able to walk the second batch of dogs, too.

Down the aisle were five opened doors with each respective dog ready for their walk. Their leashes were hooked onto the door so they couldn’t run amuck. You patted and scratched them, earning yourself more wagging tails, a few happy barks, and some excited licks. Looking to the end of the hall you saw someone who you assumed was your evening walking partner. He was kneeling, talking soothingly to a great big senior hound, while clasping the final buckle of their harness. “Hello, uh-, Aemond?” You called out feeling slightly self-conscious.

Still kneeling, he turned his head to look up at you. Any softness in his single eye quickly hardened to match the rest of his sharp features. “Hey,” he said, caught off guard by your presence; someone he’d never seen calling him out by name. “Is there something I can help you with?” Slowly, in a single fluid motion, he stood up and the aged dog kept his eyes on him the whole time, panting happily.

Whoa. He was tall. And, at first sight, incredibly good looking: dressed in casual black clothes, long silver hair tied into a braid, with a scar along the left side of his face that you had to tell yourself not to stare at. His mouth was a unique shape, too, and you weren’t sure if he was merely waiting for a response or if he was smirking the tiniest pout at you. “Hi,” you said again with a nervous laugh. You told him your name. “Arryk sent me. Said you could use some help with the walk tonight?” ‘Play it cool, dummy. He’s really handsome, so what? He could be a huge asshole. Play. It. Cool,’ your inner voice said.

Did he have a mechanical eye beneath his patch? The way he looked at you, then, made you feel like he read your thoughts. “Ah. I could certainly use the help,” he said smoothly with a small curve of lip, turning his attention to the three dogs at the front of the hallway. “Wanna take those three?” He asked, looping the big dog’s leash around his wrist. “I mean, you can have any of them as long as I get this guy. He’s my favorite.”

Your pulse raced a little too fast. Clearing your throat, you smiled in an attempt to ease the butterflies in your belly. “I don’t mind. Why is he your favorite?” You turned and began to unclasp leashes from their doors; happy tips and taps of claws growing louder at the pups’ excitement.

“Reminds me of my girl at home,” Aemond replied, adoration clear in his voice. “Big and old, a little stinky, a little slobbery. The best kind, really.”

“Aw, that’s very sweet. I don’t have any pets. I get my fix here,” you laughed. Holding all three dogs in one hand, you pulled the door open with the other. Except, it didn’t open. On instinct, you tried again hoping Aemond didn’t notice.

He strode up next to you with the rest of the dogs in tow, smirking at you for real this time, as he said, “it’s a push door.”

You knew it was a push door. Fuck. He gave you a knowing glance over his shoulder as he walked out, waiting for you to follow along.

II.

You didn’t see Aemond on Wednesday and you couldn’t deny your disappointment when you left for the night. Come to find out you two had been volunteering at the same place for months – only on different days. He tended to be there Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Monday had been a chance encounter. One you couldn’t shake out of your head.

Before leaving tonight, however, you took a selfie with Aemond’s favorite old hound. You’d exchanged numbers but hadn’t an excuse to strike up a conversation. Yet. Now, with the selfie as an excuse, you opened a fresh text thread and sent him the photo along with:

Someone missed you tonight!

While buckling up in your car and getting ready to reverse out of your parking spot, your phone dinged with an incoming message:

Very cute. Will you be there on Monday? Maybe Cargyll will assign up walking duties again.

Your belly flipped. Truthfully, you weren’t expecting him to message back – especially so quickly. Before you could stop yourself you sent back:

Yup! See you then?

And he sent:

I’ll find another excuse to be there.

Feeling a little bold, you replied:

Excited to see you again! You have these adorable dimples when you smile. Maybe I’ll see those, too?

When nothing came through for a few minutes, you feared you might have gone too far. It was just a little innocent flirting, right? Nothing bad? And then:

Maybe so. See you Monday.

Smiling, you didn’t send anything back. It’d be your luck to say something dumb and rub him the wrong way.

During your first walk, as soon as the ice broke, you both clicked really well. Hopefully – just maybe – things would flow like that again. The connection you felt, something akin to a liveware, couldn’t have been one-sided. He had to feel a spark of it, too; even if just a little.

You drove home, made dinner while facetiming one of your friends from uni, and when she asked about the spark in your eye you told her about your friend Helaena’s younger brother.

III.

“I seriously cannot believe you’ve never seen The Lord of the Rings. The Hobbit trilogy was a little silly, but watchable. But you haven’t even seen that?” Aemond asked clearly aghast at your lack of understanding his reference.

Tonight, you both got walking duty again and neither of you complained. And, this time, he regarded you with a softer look in his eye than his original sharp glance. He was dressed in dark casuals again and you hated (loved?) how good he made them look. His hair was in a bun and his eyepatch stayed firmly in place. You wanted to ask him about it but weren’t sure if you should try it yet. Instead, you rolled your eyes and laughed. “You’re making it sound better and better the more you talk about it.”

“That’s because it’s the best.” The dogs pulled both of you along and you had to walk brisker than normal to keep up with them and Aemond’s longer legs. He seemed unaffected by it.

“So, you recommend I watch it?” You asked playfully.

“No,” he started, very serious. “I recommend you read it first and then watch the movies.”

If you had more breath in your lungs you’d have giggled – not laughed, but giggled. Something about the way he said it, and the totally serious look on his face, tickled you. “Will you watch them with me?”

The question appeared to catch Aemond off guard. He looked at you, lingering over your pinkened cheeks and smirking lips, before finally making it back to your eyes. Just when he opened his mouth to say something in reply, a completely unrelated thing stole his attention. Sometime during your bantering you’d made it back to the shelter, and a tall dark-haired woman called out, “there’s my sweet Aemond. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you and you haven’t been answering your phone.”

If you thought Aemond attractive, this woman made him look like any regular ol' Joe. She was elegant, warmed by a late summer tan, and had raven dark hair cascading down her back; truly a vision of enchantment. When she sauntered to him and pressed her body to his, you felt like a voyeur watching the embrace.

“Alys,” Aemond breathed quietly. “What do you want?”

“You know what I want,” she answered as she trailed manicured fingers across the front of his chest.

She had a timeless look to her, the kind that concealed her age. She could have been anywhere from twenty-five to fifty, you thought. You really hadn’t a clue. All you knew, now, is that you should finish your task alone.

Aemond’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Posture tense. “I told you I was busy tonight–”

Before you could stop yourself you cut him off with an awkward wave. “See you later, Aemond.” And, with that, you walked inside before you overheard anything else they might be saying to each other. Turning to glance over your shoulder one last time, you were met with a look of deliberate triumph from Alys; she had the greenest eye you’d ever seen.

It was haunting.

Driving home, you felt stupid. Aemond was just a guy you just met. It was silly to think someone like him would be single and even sillier to think your innocent flirtations would be working on him. You had half a mind to delete his number. Or, at the very least to delete the short message thread of your texts.

Instead of making dinner like you normally did, you called in delivery and facetimed with your friend as you waited. She immediately knew something was off and you were quick to tell her everything that happened.

Twenty minutes passed and you were starting to feel better. It’s not like you two hooked up or even kissed. It was just a chance meeting with playful banter. Nothing to get shook up about. “Food’s here. Thanks for listening to me. I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” You said as you got up to answer the door.

When all else failed, your favorite food could always make you feel better.

Turning the tv on and sitting down amongst your couch pillows and blankets, you were getting ready to dig in when your phone rang.

Aemond.

Your insides did a weird flip and hunger disappeared entirely from your mind and belly. Should you answer? Let it go to voicemail? Turn the stupid thing off and completely ignore him? Right before the final ring, you decided. “Hello?”

“Hey,” he said, immediately sounding relieved. “I’m sorry about that. I wasn’t yet ready to call it a night with you.”

“It’s no biggie,” you replied. Lying. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything–,” you paused, searching for something else to say to soften the edge of your voice, “–the dogs were getting tired anyway.” God. It sounded stupid even to your own ears.

Aemond sighed through the phone. You wondered if he slid his hand down his face or through his hair. It sounded like he did. “No. Alys is… it’s complicated. She’s my ex and–”

“ –you don’t have to explain anything to me,” you said, cutting him off. “Really. It’s fine.” Despite it being a phone call, you tried to smile as if it would blunt the dismissal of your tone.

“I mean it,” he said. “I really wasn’t ready to say bye yet. What do you say you skip your regular Wednesday night plans and grab a milkshake or something with me?”

Your insides flipped again but for an entirely different reason this time. You knew it: the sparks definitely weren’t one sided. The firm set of Aemond’s jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders flashed once more in your mind’s eye. Since your break up with your long-term boyfriend you’d been on a few dates, but none of them lead to anything worthwhile. With how you and Aemond clicked, however? This date might lead to something more than a hook-up (or, attempt at a hook-up. Some men truly had no game). “Are you sure…?” You asked after a moment. “You and Alys looked pretty comfortable–,”

“ –I’m sure,” it was his turn to cut you off.

“Alright then. Let’s do it.”

IV.

It'd been two months since your first milkshake date with Aemond – the first of many dates. It was a guilty pleasure of yours and apparently one of his, too!

Your first kiss, first time meeting his elder dog, Vhagar, and first time meeting his family were all memories you cherished.

The more you learned about Aemond’s relationship with Alys, the more you understood it "complicated". Including Targaryen drama, Targaryen business, and a list of other things you had a hard time following. It didn’t matter anymore, though, Aemond reassured you. Things were done between them and he only wanted you; proving it to you with fingers and mouth until you begged for a break.

A lesson you learned from your last relationship – one Aemond learned from his, too – was to be careful with love. As much as you genuinely enjoyed him and his company, a barrier stood between you that neither dared yet to cross.

Love.

Each day you fell for him a little more; you were scared to admit it. The scar of heartbreak healed slowly. Could you truly trust Aemond with that part of yourself? With the very essence of your heart? It’d been two months and you still weren’t entirely sure.

If he felt the same he’d say something, right?

Autumn blanketed the lands with brisk air, rainy days, and rolling fog. As days grew short and nights long, you and Aemond spent more time at your apartment or his quarter at the Targaryen estate. Your apartment was the clear favorite. Living alone had its perks: never having to worry about nosy family or friends who showed up unannounced.

And thank God you didn’t live with anyone else.

"Mmh… fuck, baby, I've been thinking about this all day. I can't get enough of you. Let me make my girl feel good," he said against your mouth as one of his hands moved up the inside of your thigh. "Are you wet already? I bet you are," he chuckled, fingertips tracing your slit. "Mmm… I knew it. Your clit is sooo needy, isn't it?"

Shit. Those hushed words, the glint in his eye, his rasped tone… you happily indulged him in whatever way he wanted. And him, you. Fingers, mouth, cock, he quickly learned what tricks made you melt.

As much as he loved having you ride him, or bending you over, his absolute favorite was fucking you into the mattress. You sprawled out beneath him, hair messy and fanned out around your head, legs wrapped tight around his waist, fingernails on his body… he could never get enough of your blushed face beneath him, trembling and arching as he pushed you to peak after peak.

Your sheets had never been cleaned so often in your entire life.

It was particularly rainy today and you were both finished with everything on your to-do list. Aemond sat on the floor in front of you as you lounged in your overstuffed chair. You told him you'd read the Lord of the Rings as long as he read it to you. He didn't even pretend to be annoyed by your bargain. He read to you from his own collection, claiming he liked the worn feeling of the pages better than a new book's pages.

Like any proper reader Aemond started with The Hobbit. You enjoyed it more than you thought you would. More so than the story, however, you enjoyed him reading aloud to you – he had the loveliest voice. You were about half way through The Fellowship of the Ring and the story continued to get better.

But, all afternoon, Aemond's phone never stopped going off. It seemed like every few minutes it would ping with some kind of notification. "Who's blowing you up?" You asked, annoyance creeping into your tone.

Stopping mid sentence, he looked. "Alys," he sighed as he scrolled through the various messages.

You tried to not look over his shoulder to the texts. You really did. But there was something about Aemond's shift in posture, and the air around him, that made you suspicious. "What's going on?" You asked in your best nonchalant manner.

"She's asking if I have some of her clothes at my place still," he answered and you swore you saw pink spread atop his cheeks.

That caught you off guard. "Why would she have clothes–"

And whatever else you were going to say was abruptly cut off.

There, in a new string of messages, was the single text line, "I miss you, baby boy," followed by at least three photographs of Alys in lingerie and various stages of undress.

"What the fuck Aemond!?" You asked, anger and hurt instantly warming your blood. "What the hell were those? Are you fucking joking?"

"I have no idea why she sent–"

" –is that why she left clothes at your place? Couldn't let her go for real? Jesus Christ I can't believe you." Anger flushed your face and bittered your words.

"Listen, please. Hear me out, bab–"

" –oh fuck off, Aemond, you don't get to 'babe' me around anymore. In fact, just leave."

He looked as hurt as you. And shocked. A hundred emotions played across his chiseled features. "No, really. Let me explain," he pleaded with eye and tone.

You weren't having it. You were cheated on before and he knew it. It made your own hurt cleave even deeper. You really fucking liked him. Maybe even loved him. And this whole time he had you and Alys? "I'm seriously about to get really fucking angry. Leave. Now."

He stood and left. Silent fury screamed around him like a whirlwind. He didn't even give you one final look over his shoulder.

He shut your door with a deliberate click.

You curled up in your blanket alone as fat ugly tears streamed down your face. You couldn't be bothered to grab a tissue for your snotty nose.

Aemond's leather jacket was still draped over the back of your couch and his book still lay on the floor. Your crying somehow turned uglier at the realization.

Eventually you dozed off. With Aemond, you always had your phone on silent so you didn't hear all his missed calls and texts.

The following month went by in a blur; you drowned yourself in work. You also stopped volunteering because you didn't want to give Aemond the opportunity to meet you there. By some feat of strength you ignored all his attempts at talking – and by proxy, apologizing.

The only thing you said to him was a single text:

I need time. Please understand

Part of you wondered how it affected him. His calls and texts became sparse until they eventually stopped.

Helaena asked where you'd been and you felt horrible lying to her. So, you didn't. After telling her the story she sighed and asked if you'd want to grab tea. You agreed. Meeting her at a local cafe allowed you to air out your feelings; laughs and tears alike. She was kind, and sweet, and supportive without being passive. She loved her brother but knew he had many of his own issues. You'd been friends for over a year and this was the first true heart to heart you shared.

Upon returning home you picked up the Fellowship and tried to read from where Aemond left off. But, it wasn’t the same without him and it only made you cry. Again.

VI.

The following morning, despite your car's newer model, it barely wanted to start for your drive to work. By a stroke of luck you made it there fine. And, made it back home that evening, too. But that was the end of your luck. It needed to be picked up and taken to a shop until a mechanic could see it.

Carless, you had to rely on Uber or public transportation. Yuck.

A few days of stress passed and now you were done for the week. Thank God for weekends. Unfortunately your groceries were extremely low and you would need to make a trip in the morning. You sighed and used it as an excuse to order pizza.

After waking up and a breakfast of (the last, and past its sell-by date) packet oatmeal you got around to make the walk to the nearest grocery store. Knowing you'd be walking home, too, the list was small. Carrying bags up two flights of stairs was hard enough, much less carrying them home a mile!

On the way back it started sprinkling. Great. Just great. You started walking faster with hopes of making quicker time than your leisurely stroll to the store. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, you heard your name called. Was that…? Stopping in your tracks you looked across your shoulder to the side of the road and saw none other than Aemond. You knew his car and voice anywhere. You didn't have to see yourself to know a dozen emotions played across your face.

"Hey," he said gently, his own features a mirror of yours.

"Hi," you said.

"Why are you walking in the rain with groceries?"

Slumping your unintentionally scrunched up shoulders, you sighed. "Stupid car died on me and it's been with the mechanic for almost a week."

He smiled softly. So soft. The outside of his seeing eye crinkled and emotion rushed to your chest. Your gut. "You're way too good to be walking alone. Let me drive you home at least?"

You didn't resist. How could you? "Alright. Sure. Just dropping me off though, okay?" Guilt panged your chest. Did he feel it too? Could he read it on your face he knew so well?

"Alright," he answered, expression falling just slight. You might as well have stomped on his foot with how it affected you.

I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. Can we try it again? Can I hold your hand? God I love your hair in a ponytail. You smell good. Did you see the trailer for that new horror movie? I miss you. I love you. I'm sorry. It all turned around your head like a fucking rotisserie chicken. It shouldn't be so hard to say any of those things to him. But it was.

You didn't say anything on the short ride home. Neither did he. His right hand flexed a few times and you wondered if he was having a hard time, too.

"Can you get it all upstairs?" He asked as he pulled into an empty spot and parked, looking across to you with horribly concealed emotion.

"Yes, but…," you trailed off momentarily, trying to read his face. "I still have your book and jacket. Wanna come up and grab them?" You asked hopefully.

He killed the engine faster than you could blink. "Yes! So that's where they've been. You could have mentioned it sooner," he said slightly accusingly, grinning at you with a spark of playfulness.

Leading the way upstairs to your apartment, you unlocked the door and disappeared inside. After placing your items down and grabbing Aemond's, you turned to look at him standing in the doorway. He leaned against it. Waiting. Quiet. He glanced around with a wistfulness that made your throat tight. You watched him watching you and your home until the air became awkward – was it half a second, a few seconds, longer? You weren't sure.

Slowly you walked over to him. Your gaze flickered up at him as you handed his things back. "Were you ever going to tell me the truth?" You asked. "Did you think I really wouldn't find out? Why did you stick around if I wasn't good enough?"

He blinked. Taken back. "You never even gave me the chance to explain." His jaw feathered before it tightened. His eye hardened.

You grabbed the door, fixing to close it on him. Now that you started talking – unloading pent up questions which kept you tossing and turning at night – you couldn't decide if you wanted to slam it on his face or yell. "I told you how I was cheated on! And you did it anyway! I trusted you, Aemond." Your voice thinned, sounding shrill even to your own ears.

One of his hands braced on the door so you couldn't close it on him. "So this is your revenge then, huh? Punishing both of us? Why don't you trust me?" Hurt and fury simmered in the lovely hue of his eye. A storm. No, a hurricane. "Alys and I have been done for months. Months. Even before you and I met. I'm sorry for what she did but I can’t control what she does. She was playing her wicked games trying to sabotage us– you and me. Don't shut me out. Please."

He pleaded, every pore and line of his face begging for forgiveness. As each word came off his tongue they clicked into place in your head. He meant it. He was telling the truth. Before you could stop yourself your fists balled into the front of his shirt, pulling him down so your mouth crashed up to his. "You mean it?" You asked through the kiss.

Instantly he leaned down into you, and instantly he held onto your waist pulling you deeper against him. His other hand cradled the side of your face daring to curve along the shape of your skull. "I mean it. Yes I fucking mean it," he answered against the kiss; breath stealing yours away until it left you in a little moan.

You pulled him inside and shut the door, locking it. You moaned as he nipped and bit at your neck. Your heart thumped wildly. He sucked at the sensitive skin, again and again, pulling away just before leaving a mark. "God, Aem,” you whimpered. Goosebumps covered your body. The only thing on your mind was him.

"Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much." His hands were somehow all over you all at once. His mouth trailed, and dragged, and kissed over any exposed portion of your skin. He happily pulled off layers of your clothing to expose more and more of your soft, warm, saccharine flesh; intoxicating him. After weeks of your separation the last thing he wanted to do was to push too far too fast. “Can I take this off?” He asked before taking your shirt off.

“Yes,” you replied breathily. “Fuck it. Take all of it off. I missed you too. So much,” you said as you helped pull his clothes off, too. He pushed you against a wall. You kissed. Heavier, and hotter, and hungrier. You pushed him against a wall.

He gasped as he smirked. “I love when you act all tough when we both know I can have you squirming under me in minutes,” he growled, pupil swelling. The dimples at the very corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement, however, as he once again pushed you against the wall. You were both only in your underwear, now, and his lean body on yours had you aching. “My tough girl… how quickly do you think it’ll last when my fingers are in you?”

“Why don’t we find out?” You asked defiantly, knowing damn well it wouldn’t last long at all. By now you were both down the hallway and your bedroom was only a couple feet away. You needed him. Now. And judging by how fucking hard he was he needed you too.

The next moment went by in a blur and before you could catch yourself you were sprawled out on your back atop your bed. Aemond made quick work of moving you both inside, and made quicker work of pulling your panties down. He groaned as your thighs immediately spilled open for him. He dragged two fingers up your slit and circled your clit with your arousal. “Shit–,” he hissed. “Never make me wait so long to have this pussy again. Do you understand me? Never,” he said as he worked your already swollen clit. He played with it just how he knew you liked it and your cunt’s tiny wet sounds sent his cock throbbing. “Answer me.”

Tension built in the low muscles of your belly. Your legs began to tighten already – one of the tell-tale signs of your approaching climax. How the hell could he push you there so quickly? “N-never! Ahh-h never again!” You replied, voice light, and sweet, and tantalizing as any sin Aemond ever knew. “Please, Aemond, I want to cum…!”

He shoved those same two fingers into you. “Good girl,” he said as he curled those fingers. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine. Give it to me,” he said huskily as he worked them in and out of you. It was sloppy and wet. Borderline obscene. Each time he slammed his hand against you he was mindful to press the heel of his palm against your clit and your mound, knowing how the extra pressure sent your pretty toes curling.

You cried out his name as your eyes clenched shut. The tension in your belly snapped and a wave of glorious bliss washed over you. Sweat sheened between your breasts and along your lip. You arched, quivered, shuddering in the aftermath of his intensity.

Aemond’s mouth crashed to yours and you threaded your fingers through the roots of his hair. It was still in a ponytail and you had no mind to take it out, you just had to pull him deeper into the kiss. He tasted the salt of your sweat and groaned. “Relax your pussy, baby, you’re clenching me really hard. It feels amazing but I don’t wanna hurt you pulling out,” he said tenderly, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “Just feels too good.” You tried to steady your breath and relax as he laid beside you, continuing to kiss your neck and shoulders. When your spongy walls finally eased around him you were sad to feel him withdraw. Stress melted away from your subconscious and you wanted to thank him for the pleasure. You wondered if your eyes said it while he looked at you.

Leaning up, he discarded the final piece of his clothing and sighed in relief as his cock sprang free. He got between your thighs and looked down at you hungerily. “Look at you all doe eyed already. See? I knew you couldn’t stay tough for long,” he said, smug, as he lined up with your drenched cunt. He held one of your legs up against him, and you pressed the other against his side.

When you left for the store this morning you had no idea your afternoon would go in this direction.

He pushed into you. Inch by inch he sunk into you and soon he was as deep as he could be. A moan escaped both of you, and a throatier one left him when his free hand tugged at your bra. It was one that clipped in the front. He popped it open and rocked into you as soon as your tits spilled free. "You're so sexy like this."

With your body already sensitive from your first orgasm, and now with Aemond building a rhythm between your thighs, you weren't going to last long. "You feel so good," you purred, eyelids heavy. "Fuck I missed you."

Another sound left his chest and when you wrapped your legs around his slim waist you swore you felt goosebumps pebble all along his skin. Or, maybe those were your goosebumps on your legs. Whatever the case, Aemond leaned forward and kissed you again. "I missed you too," he rumbled. "Gonna let me fill this pretty pussy with my cum again?"

You two made good use of your birth control and you weren't about to deny him – or yourself – the pleasure of being thoroughly fucked and stuffed. "Y-yeah," you stammered, smiling.

Aemond mumbled something incoherent into your neck, and if your brain wasn't foggy from his perfect fucking cock you might have caught what he said.

He leaned up and supported himself on his forearms, pressing his forehead to yours. "You're my girl. You're my fucking girl. You're my fucking girl," he repeated again and again until the pace of his thrusts grew sloppy. Somehow the sloppiness of it, the neediness and urgency of his voice, sent emotion swelling in all of you.

Heat collected and grew out from your spine, webbing throughout your entire body. You clung to him desperately. You rolled your hips up into him and shamelessly grinded your clit against his pelvis as he drove in and out of you. It was all too much. You crumbled beneath him and let orgasm take control of you. The depths of your body squeezed and convulsed around him, holding him tight and soaking the fullness of his length with your slick. He never stopped or paused his thrusts.

His own peak followed. Once he was as deep as he could be he released everything he had into you. He stayed there, both of you panting through little moans, until he no longer twitched between your stretched walls. Slowly, he pulled out, and slowly, his seed dribbled out of you. Grinning, he rolled onto his back and scooped you against him.

"Let's stay here like this all day," you mumbled happily, fingertips trailing up and down his abdomen and chest.

"You'll get no argument from me," he said.

Quiet minutes passed and the sound of his heart nearly put you into a trance. "I'm sorry for how I acted," you finally admitted.

All the while he'd been petting and trailing his fingers through your hair. He didn't stop as he answered, "and I'm sorry for not trying harder." He kissed your forehead and held you tighter.

"Let's try it again. For real this time. With the titles and commitment and everything."

"Are you asking or telling me to be your boyfriend?"

You smirked. "I'm suggesting."

Returning your smirk, he pulled you atop him so you could straddle him. "You're all mine," he said with a dark eye. "My perfect girl."

Leaning down, you kissed and nipped his bottom lip. "Are you already hard again, Aemond Targaryen?"

A chuckle rumbled somewhere in his chest as his touch dented into your hips to hold you at just the right angle. With a roll of his hips he pushed himself up inside you again. "Whose cock is this?"

You gasped, eyes darkening with another round of lust. "Mine."

"That's right. Yours. Not anyone else's. It's fucking yours."

You rode him until your tits were covered in fresh hickies and you were filled with another load of him.

Yours. His. The second chance you both needed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @dreamsofoldvalyria @chompchompluke @fan-goddess

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @evermorre

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #modern aemond #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond imagine #request

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stealth-liberal · 2 months

Text

Whew, I have a lot to say, and I know for a FACT that not a single non Jewish person on here will give a shit... but I have to vent.

Antisemitism in America is so bad that I honestly don't know if it's safe to send my daughter off to college in 2 years. She doesn't know either. Both of us have discussed her staying home and doing as much of her university education online, so as to keep her safe. She has sensory issues and an anxiety disorder... and already she has been rejected all over the place in her high school campus since 10/7.

The Women's Empowerment Club? The club leader has made it so that no female Jewish student feels safe there, and all of them quit. The little leftist neo nazi in charge of it probably cheered as they left and patted herself on the back for her "praxis". Maybe she can start goose stepping and yelling "Heil Hitler!" while she's at it. But she's not unique. Feminist organizations the world over deny mass rape of Jewish women. Why? Because it's Me Too Unless You're a Jew. They want us all raped and in the grave. Period.

The Pride Club? Forget it. All queer Jewish kids are persona non grata there. Apparently it's cool if Jewish queers are the subject of violence... and I can't say more or I'll start wanting to kill people. I am bisexual, my husband is bisexual, our daughter is lesbian. I have been part of this community since I was 12 as an ally and since I was 15 as a bisexual (took me some time to figure out what I was). My daughter came out in 4th grade for G-d's sake. We've been there, fighting the fight and now... queer organizations all over the world are abandoning us. They honestly hope we will all die, the more violently the better.

I was a proud intersectional feminist and a proud queer woman my whole life. Or at least ever since I could make decisions about that sort of stuff and what I believed. And I have been abandoned, my daughter has been abandoned, for blood sport. Her friends are pulling away from her and we all know why... because she committed the unpardonable sin of being Jewish.

Funny part? The Muslim Student Union has done nothing to her or the other Jewish kids on campus. Ponder that thought leftists if you will.

My son is in 8th grade and for the entirety of his 6th and 7th school years he was relentlessly bullied for being Jewish. We live in a red town and it was right wing antisemitism. It was so bad that I had to remove him for his safety from the school for a while. Now? It's left wing as well, he's catching it from both sides and I don't know how to protect him.

No one cares. Frankly, if my 13 year old son committed suicide to get away from it all... they would throw a party. Another dirty Jew/Zionist down... am I right? None of you give a fuck.

I marched, I protested, I voted, I phone banked. I lived my beliefs in action, and the left betrayed me. They fantasize about me and my children being raped and murdered. The more graphically it could happen, the better for them. Frankly, I think they get off to the videos Hamas released in the privacy of their rooms at night.

There's nowhere to run. Israel isn't an option. I know everyone thinks Jews are dripping in wealth... but I frankly do not have enough money to move my family to the other side of the planet. My husband is in IATSE, the stage hand local. There are no jobs waiting for him there. There are no jobs waiting for me there. I have no family there. Neither does he.

Actually, my husband isn't Jewish. I am, our children are, but he is not. He supports us in our Jewishness 100%, but he is not a Jew and he never wanted to convert. Which is fine with me... but how the hell does that work in a country where there is no civil marriage?

I'm not Orthodox, I don't want to be Orthodox. I want full egalitarianism, so I go to Reform, Renewal, or Conservative synagogues, depending on what is closer to wherever I live. Israel is a VERY Orthodox country, and the options are Orthodox or completely secular. This is a criticism I've been laying at Israel's feet for DECADES.

And Jew Haters better not use this as a way to say how awful Israel is. Not when the countries surrounding Israel are either dictatorships or absolute power, divine right monarchies who kill dissenters constantly.

So... there's really nowhere for my family to go. So I guess I'll stay where I am being a liberal Jew and waiting for the sick marriage of MAGA and Leftists to come to my door and kill me and my family.

None of you care. All of you would cheer. I'll never trust any of you again for the rest of my life. Till the day I die... I'll never trust any of you in any part of my life (online or offline) again.

1 in 5 members of Gen Z think the Holocaust didn't happen. 2/3rds of Gen Z think stories of the Holocaust are exaggerated and that Jews were somewhat complicit in what happened to us. Blame the victim...amirite? The rates amongst Millennials are not as horrific... but they're still bad. You all are going to commit a 2nd Holocaust and pat yourself on the backs. And when history remembers you all as the Nazis part 2... you will babble in your nursing homes that you were "Just trying to save the world from the Zionist/Jewish scourge."

When that happens, I hope you die in a puddle of your own shit.

#sl speaks #jumblr #jewish #antisemitism #jew hatred #jew haters #me too unless you're a jew #holocaust denial #holocaust inversion #leftist antisemitism #right wing antisemitism #they're all the same #horseshoe theory

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inkyajax · 1 year

Text

cut me rails of that fresh cherry pie

character: alhaitham

genre: modern university!AU, smut with a dusting of fluff

notes: whew! finally my TA!alhaitham piece is finished!! i worked for just over a month on this and i’m really happy with how it turned out, and i can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! fun fact: this entire piece was inspired by that singular line about alhaitham taking you to the archives in his story quest ehehe. as always, please heed the warnings below and stay safe. | title credit: take a slice by glass animals

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dubcon, rough sex, extremely bratty reader, minimal prep, semi-public sex, use of the word Sir, painful sex, one (1) instance of spanking, one (1) slap to the face, hints of implied trauma, biting, marking, blood, alhaitham is strong enough to lift reader up and fuck her against the shelves, praise, toxic relationship, student professor (TA) relationship (power imbalance), dom/sub power dynamics, undefined age gap between consenting adults, big size difference between alhaitham and reader, size kink, sex as punishment, sex as an emotional release, choking, reader is quite flexible, belly bulge, snowballing

words: 10.9k

synopsis:

“You have been exceptionally bratty today.”

“So?” you frown, insolence already beginning to bleed back into your tone. Your eyes narrow in assessment, head tilting slightly. This has never been a problem in the past, so why is it suddenly an issue now? “What? You can’t handle a bit of brattiness?”

The back of his hand collides with your cheek, stark and sudden, the sharp sound of skin slapping skin echoing down the vacant aisles.

It’s hard enough that it whips your head to the side, pins of pain lingering on your flesh. Salt stings your eyes, a reflexive albeit frustrating notion, and you blink with conviction, fury incinerating your tears.

The bite of betrayal hurts, and you keep your face pressed flush to the wood, chin jutting defiantly, refusing to look at him.

He grips it easily with a pinching thumb and forefinger and hauls it harshly back toward him. The rest of his fingers wreathe around your jaw, clinched so hard that your mouth puckers.

“Oh no,” he spits, words quietly seething. “I’m about to handle it, right now.”

Sunlight filters through the windows, casting slim strokes of gold across the lecture hall. Your pen taps lazily against your notebook as you watch the last few stragglers shoot their questions at your TA—and, subsequently, get shut down with a mere handful of words as a response—lingering, waiting.

It’s only after that heavy mahogany door closes behind the last student that you finally approach him.

One of the most infamous PhD Candidate students on campus, Alhaitham’s area of study specializes in semantics and pragmatics. He’s renowned for consistently achieving top-of-his-class status, working diligently and dedicatedly on his mammoth four-hundred-page dissertation, and being the hottest man and the hardest marker within the University of Sumeru’s small but robust linguistics department.

Spots in his intimate lectures are highly coveted and extremely limited, rendering them tough to get into, yet you’ve managed to snag a space in every single one.

He is, on all accounts, an exceptionally difficult man to get close to.

But you have been nothing if not persistent in your quest to get him to take notice of you.

And take notice of you, he has.

You had surprised him when proposing that the topic for your year-long research paper consist of studying the ways in which translations of the same piece of Middle Egyptian literature—throughout different time periods, and in conjunction with several different languages from each era—add and/or change the meanings of an individual text.

With it, you had raised several fascinating questions: how does the language chosen within each translation procure a different meaning within the text? How does the translator’s personal background and education play a role in their word choice and placement, and how does this affect meaning within the text? Are their certain syntactic patterns and sentence structures that contribute to this second layer or meaning that is imbued on the text by the translator, and if so, how?

But you always raise interesting questions, and with you he has learned to expect the unexpected.

“So,” you begin as you reach him, hopping onto the corner of his desk and linking your ankles together, limbs swaying slightly as he begins to tidy up. “I need to get into the Haravatat Rare Book Archives. For my final paper,” you clarify.

“Too bad it’s restricted to Undergrad students,” he quips, smugness pulling at the corners of his lips, teal eyes flashing up for a second before refocusing on his task of shuffling papers, the thrill of a potential challenge, of this game the two of you seem to play, glinting in his gaze.

Go ahead, give it your best shot, try and push him further, you might just get what you want.

“It is restricted to Undergrads,” you agree. “Unless they have a supervisor, like a professor, or, I don’t know, a PhD candidate student.”

His hands stop, eyes raising to meet yours again, slow, careful, searching. You hold his stare, bold, steady, egging, and finally, he bites, just as he always does, body straightening to his full height with a soft sigh, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Please, indulge me,” he says as he leans a hip against his desk chair, false exasperation not strong enough to hide the gentle tremor of genuine interest in his tone. “What could you possibly need in the Haravatat archives that’s absolutely, irrevocably necessary for you to complete your paper?”

“The original papyrus copy of the Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor.”

An eyebrow raises, intrigued.

“I have already provided you with a copy of that piece in both its original Hieratic and with Hieroglyph transliteration, which, if I remember correctly, you begged and pleaded and cried for.”

“But it isn’t the same!” The protest leaves your lips in a stringy whine before you can stop it, expression quickly smoothing out your pout half a second later. “You know that isn’t the same as looking upon the original text with your own eyes, translating directly from the actual piece of literature. And—And besides,” you continue, voice speeding up in an effort to avoid being cut off. “The original papyrus copy is missing sections, is it not? I’m having trouble confirming which sections are truly missing; I keep running into conflicting information, so I can’t tell which parts of the copies you’ve given me are fabricated and which are not. That’s crucial information for me to possess!”

It’s flimsy and weak, this little excuse of yours, he knows it is—you both know it is—but that doesn’t stop him from sincerely contemplating it, a hum vibrating in his throat; nor does it stop you from pushing forward, an attempt to move your token piece in this game one space further.

“Please?” you press, notes of hope in your voice. Your fingers, resting on edge of his desk, curl around the wood in anticipation, body leaning forward. “This would really mean a lot to me, Sir. I’d love the opportunity to see the real thing, translate from the real thing.”

“Alright,” he finally agrees. “Tomorrow. Ten PM. Don’t be late.”

✰ ✰ ✰

Shivering outside of the Haravatat Rare Book Archives, you wrap your arms around yourself, idly hopping from foot to foot, gaze wandering across the building.

It’s a mammoth of a thing, made almost entirely of slate marble and ringed with an impressive number of stained glass masterpieces, each depicting a renowned scholar that has studied within the walls of the University of Sumeru.

Beams of silver shimmer among the mosaics, illuminating the teals and greens and glinting off the intricate gold piping, decorative windows almost glowing in the rays of the full moon. Warm yellow light leaks from the slivers of windows above the first floor, evidence of late-night research and study.

Eyes climbing, you dully note the way the light fades, less and less, dimmer and dimmer, which each floor until you hit the final level, entirely dark, your TA’s words drifting through your mind.

“Ten PM?” you had said when he finally agreed to meet you here, surprise evident in your breathy tone. “Isn’t that quite late?”

“I like visiting the archives during the times where I’m least likely to run into anyone else; early in the morning or late at night.”

Snorting, you roll your eyes. Typical of the antisocial scholar with a notorious reputation to actively avoid others as often as he possibly can.

“You’re early,” his voice pulls you from your thoughts and you turn to face him.

“You said not to be late.”

Smirking, he snorts with a nod, eyes regarding you with feeble amusement.

“Well, come on, then.”

✰ ✰ ✰

“Wow,” you breathe as he leads you towards the check-in desk, wondrous eyes sweeping across the interior, all smooth jade and shimmering gold, thick glass cases proudly displaying the artifacts they house, gleaming under the warm light.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” your TA tells you, smugness playing on his lips. “The upper floors aren’t nearly as awe-inspiring. They’re quite drab, actually.”

“Yeah, but still,” you brush him off, gaze gliding across the room again.

The University of Sumeru has the largest, most impressive collection of libraries among all of the universities in the world. Renowned for its remarkable breadth of literature on every topic imaginable, it invites scholars from all across the globe to visit and scuttle through its mazes of shelves, with the Haravatat Rare Book Archives being the most coveted of all.

You think you’re beginning to truly understand why.

It is a convoluted mess of systems, but lucky for you, you have one of the best guides there is to lead you through the tangled, snarled shelves.

Because Alhaitham knows these libraries inside out, upside down, spending way too much of his damn time here—and he knows how to get you into the most exclusive floors, too.

It is, technically speaking, unfair to grant you such special privileges.

Then again, none of his other students have pursued him as aggressively and avidly as you have, so he supposes they don’t really deserve it anyway.

He’d do the same for any other student who demonstrated such a vigorous interest in their studies, he tells himself, attempts to reason with himself. He’d do the same for any student who contained the same sheer determination and dedication to their research that you do, anyone who was as rabid and tireless in their eternal pursuit of knowledge as you are.

He’s sure he would—if any of them actually possessed these covetable qualities.

But the simple fact of the matter is, they don’t. And that’s what truly sets you apart from the rest, isn’t it?

Because you’re at the very top of his class.

Because you linger after each and every lecture, waiting around at your seat until all the other students have gone, to ask him thoughtful questions and spark intriguing debates with him, to show him new ways of thinking, new ways of seeing, and he finds himself pondering over you often, curious about what’s going on in that pretty head of yours today, curious about what your notions and opinions on a particular subject would be. He has yet to find a single student at this godforsaken university that can do what you do.

Because your papers are fucking exceptional—full of thought-provoking points and expertly backed by evidence—and it’s abundantly obvious that you’re a hardworking student, that you take your studies very seriously, despite your inherent playfulness—giggles you can’t quite seem to quell, quipping remarks that are so astonishingly out of place for the classroom that it takes him a moment to respond (no one student has ever succeeded in making him pause like that, either).

Because although Alhaitham can be bold and blunt, scary and supercilious in nature, none of it deters you in the slightest, unafraid to challenge him on his views, unafraid to sound ‘stupid’ in his presence. It’s admirable, how unapologetically yourself you are, how you can hold your own against him, how his brusque personality doesn’t perturb you the way it seems to perturb others; in fact, you seem almost fascinated by it.

And that’s what makes you his best student, his most engaging student, his favourite student.

But it’s still kind of surreal to him, in a ridiculous sort of way, that he’s leading you into the Haravatat Rare Book Archives, your toes on his heels, shuffling your ID and student card between your fingers, plastic scraping together.

The screening process is rigorous, ruthless, the clerk demanding two pieces of government-issued identification in addition to your student card—to verify you are who you say you are, of course, you understand—and requiring you to sign your name in the guest logbook before finally giving Alhaitham that ugly gold VISITOR sticker, which he promptly slaps on your chest, nimble fingers tracing the edges to ensure that it’s secure.

“There,” he says, stepping back a little, as if to admire his handiwork. “Now you’re ready.”

The Ancient and Middle Egyptian literature archives are kept on the top floor of the Haravatat, the dull aisles flickering to life the moment the two of you step from the elevator, fluorescent lights clicking on in slow succession, triggered by your motion, and humming softly to themselves.

“Come,” Alhaitham says, hand encircling your wrist and tugging. “The original pieces of literature are kept over this way, in specialized glass casings.”

“Of course,” you’re nodding to yourself, allowing him to lead you towards the preserved papyrus. “Can’t have humans putting their grubby hands on a piece that’s four thousand years old, even if they are scholars.”

“Exactly,” he smirks down at you.

Smart-ass.

“Alright,” he’s saying as you reach the desired case. “There’s a small writing desk here on the edge for you to make notes and do translations. While you work, I’ll be—What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture,” you say as if he’s stupid, not even bothering to glance away from your phone, hovering above the glass screen.

“Why?”

You frown, finally looking over at him. “So I can translate the text?”

His face falls, shock flattened by disappointment, and he fixes you with a look.

“Hold on a second,” he begins, sarcasm already heavy in his tone. “I brought you here so you could translate directly from the original material, and you’re just…taking a photo?”

At your responding nod, his molars grind, strong jaw flexing with the motion, a dense sigh exhaled shakily out his nose.

“Of the first section, yes, so I can zoom in and translate with better accuracy,” you say easily, and he can’t tell if you’re lying or not. “And then, when I’m done with this section, I’ll go take a picture of the next section, then the next, and the next, and so on, until I’ve finished the entire text.”

“The entire text?” he laughs, but it’s humourless, tainted with incredulity. “Do you have any idea how long that’s going to take you? The semester’s already half over; I thought you only wanted to translate the few key passages you’re analyzing in your paper?”

“I changed my mind,” you shrug, though now he can see it; the mischief tweaking at the corners of your lips and glittering in the irises of your eyes, barely contained.

And, for a moment, you’ve stunned him into silence, yet another first for you to add to your cherished collection.

But then the blood in his veins begins to boil, the heat wiring his body back to his brain, and then he’s snapping at you, tumultuous teal surging in his eyes, churning with fury, but his voice is cold with disappointment.

“You’re fucking ridiculous, y’know that? I should take you home right now—”

“No!” you gasp, phone forgotten in an instant. “No, Haitham, please, I didn’t mean to—”

Little hands paw at his sweater, desperate for his understanding, for his forgiveness, and just like that, all traces of mischief are eradicated from your features, devoured by pure honesty, and his blood calms, authority restored to its rightful place.

You’re too cute when you beg.

“Alright. Whatever. Sit down, do your work, and be quiet.” He casts a pointed glance at the independent study desks. “I’ll be working on my dissertation, and I don’t want to hear a peep out of you.”

Turning away with more vigour than strictly necessary, he stalks towards one of the desks, wholly expecting you to mimic his actions, to obey.

But you don’t.

Because, really, when do you ever?

His head lifts as you pull up a chair from a nearby desk and tuck it into his own, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Your actions halt, a frown materializing on your face. “I wanna sit with you,”

“I should sit you at an entirely different table, alone, for such behaviour. Christ,” he shakes his head, muttering to himself as he bends back to his unfinished dissertation. “A picture. She has the whole piece in front of her, literally at her fingertips, and she’s taking pictures.”

A giggle bubbles up your throat, your lips automatically pressing together in an attempt to stifle it as you take a seat across from him, his jaw clenching once at the sound.

It’s cramped and uncomfortable, the two of you trying to work at a desk designed for a single person, pages overlapping and pens strewn across notes, your study materials leaking into his meticulously organized documents, the toes of your shoes consistently knocking against his as you fidget and fiddle around.

Yet somehow, you both manage, and for a moment it’s almost nice, a synergy of sorts forming between the continuous bumps of your sneakers and his routine shoving of your materials back onto your side of the desk.

But then you shatter the delicate, premature peace with a single question, all wriggling stilled as your voice grows serious.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Mad? No, I’m just—Annoyed, that’s all. I didn’t get you into this place so you could just take a photo of the original text. I could’ve done that for you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Now concentrate on your work.”

It can’t be more than five minutes into your joint study session when he feels it again—a gentle yet distinct tap-tap-tap against the toe of his boot. It’s deliberate this time, methodical in the rhythm—one, two, three, breath, one, two, three, repeat.

Expelling a soft sigh, he looks up, searching your form. You’re still bent over your work, murmuring softly to yourself, seemingly oblivious.

“Stop that.”

You look up, a shock of genuine surprise across your face. “Stop what?”

“Stop squirming. You’re hitting my foot.”

“Oh? Am I? Sorry, I’ll stop.”

You don’t sound sorry, though, delinquency seeping through the cracks of the sugared sincerity coating your face.

It starts up again a mere few minutes later, just like he knew it would, except this time, he refrains from reprimanding.

You get this way sometimes, he’s come to learn—desperate for his attention and willing to do anything, including bothering him, to achieve it. He supposes he doesn’t necessarily mind it, doesn’t necessarily dislike it, sometimes even enjoys playing this game with you—this push and pull, this challenge and challenger, this predator and prey—however this is neither the time nor place for such trivialities.

And yet, despite his best efforts to entirely ignore you, to refuse you the attention you’re yearning for in an effort to encourage your productivity, he finds himself subconsciously hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours, engaging with your actions entirely without his own accord.

For the breath of a moment this seems to satiate you, the small repetitive action enough to fulfill your ever-growing needs, enabling the two of you to work in peaceful silence once again.

But something with sharp little teeth gnaws a hole in the pit of his stomach, bile oozing out slow and steady to embrace the surrounding organs in a tight, sticky film, and you’ve since kicked a shoe off, sock-clad foot curling around his calf, sliding up and down the muscle, giggling a little at the way it makes his thighs tense and twitch, the way it makes his hips spasm and shiver, and he can’t stay silent anymore.

“Stop playing around and do your work.”

“But I wanna know more about yours, Haitham.”

“You can know more about mine once you finish yours.”

“No fun,” you grumble, kicking at his shin, eyebrows pushing together as a pout scrunches your face. “No fun at all, you big stoic meanie.”

Nimble fingers rub at both of his eyes, a hefty sigh thick on the back of his tongue.

This is odd. You’ve always been chatty, always been bratty, but this—this is something different. This is something worse.

Something must’ve happened. Something must’ve set you off, triggered a response, awoken a deep-seated need for his attention, confusing it with affection. Something furls up in his throat, and he forces a strong swallow past it, voice grit and gravel when he speaks again.

“Hey,” he says, leg hooking forcefully around you own, halting its movement and garnering your attention with a cute little oh!. “What’s going on with you today? Did something happen?”

His eyes are startlingly sincere as they search your face for an answer, and you blink, floundering for a moment before your features harden again, expertly schooled into a carefully curated expression of carelessness.

“No,” you blow the word out your mouth, as if the idea is preposterous, but your smile is tight, small, stretched painfully across your lips.

There is a time where this might’ve fooled him, but not anymore.

He knows you too well now.

He knows you too well, because you’ve told him, secrets and sentiments spilled in the late-night hours at his office, terrors and traumas whispered in confidence under the dim gold of his desk light, veiled with tears.

Your leg tries to kick its way free, and his own tightens in response, shin pressed painfully to the edge of his seat.

“Are you sure?”

And, for a moment, he’s positive he’s got you, positive he’s broken through to you, crushed those heavy walls of protection to dust and is stumbling through the rubble towards your heart, towards the truth.

Your demeanour wavers, teetering on the edge of honesty, and he leans forward a little further, muscles loosening.

But then you haul it back from the ledge, countenance set firmly in place, leg slipping gracefully from his grasp, and you’re gone again.

“Of course I’m sure,” you say breezily, brushing off his concern as your roll your shoulders once, sitting up straighter.

“Just restless, then.”

“Just want to know more about you, actually.”

“You already know so much about me,” he says, a small jolt buzzing through his veins at the sheer validity of the statement.

“There’s always more to know when it comes to you,” you respond, words melting slightly, sagging under fondness.

Chuckling a little, he shakes his head. “We can talk more about me and my work once you finish yours, okay?” his voice has softened a little compared to the first time he offered this solution, tinged with the hope of compromise. “I promise.”

Your eyes search his own, hunting for shards of dishonesty and coming up empty.

“Now be a good girl, and finish up your translations.”

You grumble a little under your breath, too low for him to make out the content, but obey anyway, picking up your pen again, so he let’s it slide.

As it turns out, though, not even the enticement of future attention is enough to pacify your brattiness—and he was stupid to think it ever would be.

Because then you’re restless again, hungry again, craving again; because you want it now, like some sort of sick compulsion that compels you to act out; because no matter how much he promises you, it’ll never be enough.

Because too much is never enough for a greedy little girl like you, who takes those shards of notice he’s paid to you and chews them up, spits them out, demands more.

It was always only a matter of time.

And his few remaining vines of patience, weak and worn and withering in your presence, are about to decay.

He flinches when he feels it, the tip of your shoeless toe tracing up his calf, circling his kneecap and pushing up his strong thigh, then trailing back down his shin to repeat the process all over again.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you hum, eyes never straying from your work.

A hand snatches your foot just as it reaches his knee again, palm wrapped around the arch, squeezing hard enough to force a yelp from your throat. You look up suddenly, eyes wide and surprised, foot squirming in his grasp.

“Yeah? Is it nothing?”

“I was just…” you trail off, head shaking in short, quick motions. “I didn’t even realize, Sir, I swear—”

“I don’t believe you.”

The heel on his thigh squirms a little, the cap of your pen caught between your teeth oh-so-innocently as you shrug and lean forward, perky breasts swelling almost daintily as you draw in breath to respond, straining against your sweetheart neckline.

“I don’t know what to tell you, other than that I’m telling you the truth.”

Your actions contradict your words, toes pointed tightly and poking at his hipbone, foot trying to wiggle its way along the curve of his thigh, straight to his half-hard cock.

“Enough with the lies. I’ve tried to be strict, I’ve tried to be nice, but I’m at the end of my rope here.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “Can I give it a little tug?”

“Don’t play with me,” he warns, short nails digging into the arch of your foot.

“Or else, what?” you goad, curious to see how far you can take this, how far you can push and prod and pinch before he snaps; a fly teetering on the teeth of a venus flytrap, waiting.

“Or else I am going to move to another table if you don’t cut it out.”

“Why? Am I making it hard to concentrate?”

“No,” he says, defensive, too quickly, cock jumping at his lie. “You’re pissing me off. I have allowed this to go on for far too long.”

“Oh, you’ve allowed it, have you?” you snort, rolling your eyes. “What do you think? Just because you’re one of my teachers you’re suddenly the boss of me, or something?”

“I am—”

“You know what I think?” you reach across the table, two tiny hands clasping his large one, pen skittering from his fingers, leaving an ugly mark across his paper. “I think—”

And it’s the touch that does it, the shock of skin-against-skin, warm and soft and buzzing, that has him ripping himself from his chair in an instant, moving so quick that the metal legs teeter against the linoleum floor, a caustic growl in his words.

“I don’t really give a fuck what you think,”

A large hand clamps around your bicep and yanks, hard, pulling you unsteadily to your feet with such strength that it sends your seat clattering to the ground, legs kicking wildly as you struggle to find your footing.

A gasp catches in your throat, mangled and choked, your gaze snapping to his with a ring of shock tinging your irises, and the corners of his lips twitch.

Good. It’s about fucking time.

He says nothing as he shoves you towards the endless rows of shelves, all shrouded in darkness, keeping a firm grasp on your arm while he does so, his broad chest pushing against your shoulder and forcing you to move forward.

The harsh, pale lights overhead flicker to life one by one as he barges deeper into the stacks, fluorescent tubes creaking from disuse.

Your combined footsteps echo throughout the aisles—his steady, clear and cruel, yours stumbling, toe of your singular shoe catching on the tiles, sock slipping against the waxed floor.

“I—Are you taking me to see those books you promised to show me?” your voice trembles slightly, threads of terror sewn into your question.

He stays silent, his cool, even breaths forcing chills to erupt across your flesh, each exhale against your dampening neck sending another bout skittering up your spine.

“Well, Christ,” you snort, but it comes out as more of a snivel. “The least you could do is tell me where—”

The breath is kicked from your lungs suddenly, a sharp gasp lacerating your complaint as he slams you against a bookshelf, your head whacking against the wooden ledge, book spines vibrating against wood and pages rustling together.

“Ow,” you whine, features twisted in a wince, hand attempting to rub at the sore spot and colliding with his body, your own caged tightly between a wall of muscle and a wall of books.

His breath is coming quicker now, short little puffs that flare his nostrils and heave his chest, rising and falling against your own. His hands, planted on either side of your shoulders, curl around the edge of the shelf, blunt nails audibly digging into the wood.

A steel-toed boot kicks at your ankles, forcing them further apart, a strong thigh slotting between yours and keeping them spread wide.

Your mouth falls open, in shock or surprise or scare, he can’t tell, he doesn’t care, a pitiful little squeak—a poor imitation of what was once words, he’s sure—strangling itself in your throat.

“You have been exceptionally bratty today.”

The back of his hand collides with your cheek, stark and sudden, the sharp sound of skin slapping skin echoing down the vacant aisles.

The bite of betrayal hurts, and you keep your face pressed flush to the wood, chin jutting defiantly, refusing to look at him.

He grips it easily with a pinching thumb and forefinger and hauls it harshly back toward him. The rest of his fingers wreathe around your jaw, clinched so hard that your mouth puckers.

“Oh no,” he spits, words quietly seething. “I’m about to handle it, right now.”

“Fuck you,” you try to say, but it comes out jumbled, spit collecting in the divots of your lips.

Ignoring you, he continues, smooth and cold despite the sapphire flames licking at his pupils.

“You’re going to learn to respect your superiors tonight,”

“Oh yeah? And how are you gonna do that, Haitham?”

Yanking again, he tilts your head up further, forcing your face to his, wood digging into your scalp. He’s so close you can feel his words waft across your face, can smell the musky cedar wood twining through them, lips nearly brushing yours as he speaks.

“I am going to fuck the brat out of you.”

His breathing is calm and controlled now, his voice low and even the way it gets when he’s made a definitive decision.

Yet despite the sheer severity of his words, sincere and serious, you can’t help the incredulity that bubbles up your throat, spilling past your lips in infuriating little giggles, and the rage in his eyes blazes.

“Something funny about that?” he’s growling as large hands slide up your thighs and under your dress, hem and excess material bunching around his wrists as he pushes up, up, up, until he hits delicate lace, pretty and pink and clinging to supple flesh.

Of course there is. You both know that’s impossible, both know that the brattiness is inherent, rooted so deeply within you that it’s woven into the fabric of your very soul itself, irremovable, irrevocable.

“Yeah,” you say, residual amusement still tickling your words. “I’d like to see you try.”

Rough fingertips sprout through delicate lace, invasive and uncontrollable like weeds as they ravage the fragile fabric and tear it from your body, elastics popping as they snap against your skin.

“You know what’s funny?” he’s murmuring into your neck, nose nuzzling the curve as nimble fingers massage the ruined garment in his palm. “How fucking wet you are.”

Using the thigh crammed between your legs, he keeps you steady, keeps you trapped as strong hands swoop beneath your ass and heft, your limbs automatically wrapping around his body; fingers lacing at the base of his skull, tufts of silver tickling your knuckles; ankles linking at the base of his spine, heels digging into the dimples engraved into smooth muscle.

There’s no romance to it, no kisses or caresses or tenderness at all. He doesn’t bother himself with such trivial matters, head ducking in an almost violent manner, nudging your jaw upward and forcing you to bare your neck to him. Sharp teeth sink into thin flesh, giggles dying to gurgles in your throat.

The hinges of his jaw flex, tightening the grip of his bite, teeth latched deep in muscles and arteries. A yelp cracks loudly in your throat, nails burrowing into his scalp and scraping, contriving a low moan from deep in his chest.

“Is this what you wanted, huh?” A theatrical gasp falls from his lips, head pulling back enough to blink at you with feigned surprise. “Trying to get my attention so I’ll fuck you? Is this why you’ve been acting out so much today?”

“Maybe,” you breathe, little tongue darting out to lick at his lips, then the tip of his nose. “Maybe I just wanted to know how much I’m your favourite.”

He laughs at that, a dark, smooth sound vibrating against your neck, and you can feel his lips mold into a genuine smile.

Your desperation is precious, he’s mumbling into your skin, slick tongue sealing his words into the flesh in slow, fat, sticky strokes.

He sucks another claim of ownership into the flesh of your neck, signs his name in broken blood vessels and splats of violet ink, rapidly developing beneath your skin.

Your hips grind into his own, gyrating in quick little circles as he works at etching an impermanent masterpiece into your body, his teeth and tongue as his tools.

The denim of his jeans is caustic against your sensitive cunt, but that doesn’t deter you from grinding keenly on his bulging cock, a hoarse whine spilling from his throat as he looks down, webs of translucent slick stretched shimmering and sticky across the coarse material, shining almost iridescent in the harsh light of the library.

You’re struggling a little, restless in his arms as your hips rut and rock, almost as if you’re trying to fuck yourself on his cock through his clothing.

“Christ, I haven’t even done anything yet and you’re already soaking me right through,” he snorts, as if it’s pathetic, but his voice tapers off into an airy little wisp. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“Jus’wanna—ugh—” you wail a bit, pitchy and petulant, hands squeezing their way between your pressed bodies to scratch at his waistband, fingers hooking in his belt loops and yanking. “S’not enough, Haitham. Need more, Haitham.”

So fucking greedy, so fucking needy, he’s huffing out to himself as he demands you get his cock out, hips drawing back just enough to allow you to shove his pants down, dainty fingers wrapping around the base and guiding it toward your glistening pussy, blunt head bumping against you.

You can’t help but play with it a little, gliding the head along your slippery slit and glazing it in your arousal. Because, oh, it’s so pretty, so perfect, straight and symmetrical and softer than velvet as you roll the shaft a little in your palm, feeling it thrum with simmering blood in response.

That feels good, has you mewling out melty versions of his name, spine arching reflexively as pleasure climbs the notches. But it doesn’t last long, he doesn’t allow it to, hips surging forward with impeccable precision and pushing the head into you.

It stings, thick cock splitting your ill-prepared hole wide open with each slow inch, fragile flesh aching as it stretches around him, stretches for him, a hiss spit from between your teeth as your features crunch in pain.

“Shut up,” Alhaitham snaps coldly. “Impatient little teases don’t deserve to be prepped, do they?”

No, you suppose they don’t, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

“I can take it,” you huff out stubbornly, brows knitted together, though your words wobble a little.

“Oh?” he asks, and he nearly sounds genuine, eyebrows raising in derisive astonishment. “Is that so?”

It only takes one sharp, swift thrust before he’s buried inside you, cunt stuffed full to the hilt, poor little hole spasming as it attempts to adjust to his girth.

It knocks a cry from your throat, eyes squeezed shut as your fingers tangle in the knit collar of his sweater and pull, tugging yourself closer.

Your head falls forward, face pressed tightly against the junction of his neck, trembling breath fractured by whimpers as your cunt pulses, tiny spears of agony slicing through your gut, flesh tearing into tiny fissures.

“Aw, what’s the matter, baby?” he murmurs mockingly into your hair, cheek grazing the crown of your head. “I thought you could take it. What happened?”

“I—I can,” you whine through gritted teeth.

“Yeah?” Alhaitham pulls back a little, shoulder gently nudging your face from it’s hiding place. “Prove it to me.”

A fire of determination sparks in your chest, catches on your heart and embraces it in its flames, the blaze doused in desperation to show how good you are, how good you can be for him.

“Start fucking me, and I will.”

And, for only a second, his true nature breaks through the hard annoyance coating his features—the smile he gives you is nothing short of fucking breathtaking, teal eyes glinting with something akin to pride, appreciation, approval, delighted that you’ve risen to meet his challenge, just like you always do—before that mask is back in place, expression expertly repositioned, and then his hips are drawing back, large hands flexing, fingers digging into your plush skin.

A few of the books fall from the shelves, knocked from their homes by the force of his immediate thrusts, hips snapping hard and fast and ruthless as he grips your body to his.

It hurts, the consistent slam of his cockhead against your cervix leaving it bruised and swollen, spikes of pain rippling through your gut. It only feels as though he’s ripping you open more, each drive of his massive cock into your cunt splitting your core further and further until reaches your soul, carving out a little space just for him, a mold where only he can snap into place, planting shards of himself within you, never to be removed.

“Ha—ah—Haitham!” you manage to breath out, stuttered from his rough movements, the name quivering on your tongue.

“What? Huh? What? I thought you could take it, sweetheart.”

And irrespective of the slamming of his hips and the shuddering of the shelves, he sounds almost entirely unaffected, his slight breathlessness the only indication this is having any impact on him at all.

“What’s the matter, my cock too big for you?”

And, oh, it’s so condescending, the question cooed out through an exaggerated pout, exhilaration shining in his eyes.

You don’t answer, won’t answer, can’t answer, the ramming of his cock smashing any semblance of a response to pieces, nothing more than shards of letters that dissolve into airy little mewls on your tongue.

“That’s cute,” he spits, though his voice fades into something softer, something sweeter, an insult rolled in icing sugar.

That fire, kindled from pride and a fierce need to prove yourself, flares in your chest, and you grit your teeth, resolve hardening.

The words are splintered and breathy as you force them from your mouth, the whole sentence cracked by the piston of his hips, letters flowing into one another, messy and slippery and soaked with saliva as you spit them out.

“C’mon, Sir, you said you were g—g—gonna really fuck me—fuck the brat right outta m—me, yeah? But you’re not doing—you, ah—you’re not doing a very good job, are you?”

A snarl rips from his chest, rattling his ribs against your own, and he surges forward, smashing his lips to yours—an easy way to shut you up—teeth gnawing on your lips.

It’s hardly a kiss, the edges of sharp ivory slicing into delicate flesh, procuring pretty ribbons of crimson that ooze slow and steady, mixing with your interspersed drool and turning it a sticky pale pink. The small gashes stain his mouth, scarlet gathering in the creases of his lips and the curves of his gums, painting him in strokes of you.

“You won’t be able to fucking walk when I’m through with you, you little bitch,” he hurls the words into your mouth, coated in venom so bitter it stings your tongue.

“You better—” you begin, cut off sharp and sudden as he sucks your tongue into his mouth and clamps his teeth around it, biting down hard enough to push a high little cry from your throat.

It’s already swelling, tiny bumps beginning to bulge and bloat beneath the rims of his teeth, still burrowed in wet muscle. You manage to yank it free, wincing as his teeth drag across it, harvesting rows of bloodied saliva.

There’s barely a moment to reflect on it, though, the consistent pounding of his hips keeping you from forming a coherent thought at all, ideas snapped like weak threads with each quick drag of his cock, senses dulled to everything but him.

Dull pain sprouts across your body, the sharp edges of the shelves tilling the beginnings of long, thin bruises into your skin. The wood grinds against the knobs of your spine as he fucks you, hard and brutal, your skull loose and heavy on your neck as it thwacks off the spines of the hardcovers behind you.

“How’s this for really fucking you, huh? You little brat,” he rasps out, eyes hard and eyebrows pinched, dewdrops of sweat decorating his temples, catching in the florescence and glittering like diamonds.

You’re rendered speechless yet again, the harsh, fast rub of his cock against your favourite spot causing your eyes to roll, lids drooping under the heavy weight of pleasure, mewls of his name flowing choppily from your mouth, half-finished and fading into pitchy moans.

“Aw, what’s wrong?” he taunts, though the question is panted out in hot huffs, strings of silver hanging in his eyes, trembling with each brush of his eyelashes. “Can’t speak?”

A sharp whine of frustration breaks to pieces in your throat, face scrunched and eyes clamped shut in concentration as your sloppy tongue attempts to mold wisps of fleeting thoughts into letters.

But it’s no use. Everything feels floaty, dreamy, almost, the edges of your vision gone hazy, softening all of the honed lines and harsh corners of the library.

He’s all you can see, his features the only thing in focus; aquamarine gems glimmering with a type of intoxicating rapture, a brilliant smile sprawled across his cheeks, salt-saturated tuffets of platinum and flint embellishing his forehead and cheeks.

He’s all you can feel; his large hands beneath your ass, grip tightening with the acceleration of his pace, fingertips sowing deep blotches of navy and amethyst into your cheeks; his smooth pubic bone, clit gliding over it with each of his thrusts, slick and sticky and so, so good.

He’s all you can smell, hear, taste—cedar wood and breathless grunts and blood-tinged mint.

“Are you going to fucking behave now?” he asks, pace never faltering. “Guess brats can’t be brats if they can’t talk, now, can they?”

Your head is nodding without your permission, automatic and instinctual, sharp mind and sharper tongue dulled down to one singular aim—to please him. His cock is the only thing you can focus on, now. His cock is the only thing you want to focus on, now, all of the tension and trepidation from the past few days—from the past few weeks—ebbing away, corroded by bliss.

The stress that’s been straining your face releases, expression fully relaxing for the first time tonight—pure, authentic—smoothed out by hedonistic ecstasy.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, the softness of his tone contradicted by his merciless actions, the short legs of the bookshelf beginning to creak and wobble, oak scraping against linoleum. “Turns out all you need is a good, hard fuck to turn you into a respectful little girl, isn’t that right?”

“S’right, Sir, s’right,” you slur, words sloppy and stuffed with spit, letters loose and languid on your tongue. “I—It’s—ah!”

It’s so much, too much, emotion welling up in your chest and your eyes, pushed to the surface by his warm pleasure, his warm presence, submerging you in its enticing embrace.

Because it is only here, with your bodies knotted and your breaths twined, where you feel safest, where you find solace, where you are supported, in a way you never before have been, in a way no one else ever has.

It is only here, drowning in him, where you can let go, give in, give up, allowing yourself to be guided.

“I know, baby, I know,” he soothes. “Don’t worry, I’m here to handle it, I’m here to make it all better,”

The words are so fucking genuine, ringing with such sincerity, instinctual tears pricking and nibbling at your lashes as emotion roils in on itself in your throat, forming a hard lump, lodged in the column.

It renders any sort of response incapable, impossible, consciousness overwhelmed and overridden by the pleasure sprouting across your body, every new crop reaping another wave of undeniable relief, undefiable release.

It’s okay, though. It’s okay, because you don’t need to say anything at all, because he already fucking knows—can decipher it through the water glazing your eyes and the feathery little moans routinely fragmenting in your throat; can decipher it through the clutching fingers scouring and scuffing his skin, pressing him closer, holding him tighter.

Those initial spikes of pain have morphed into sparks of pleasure now, tiny little cinders wrapped in barbed wire, scraping against the walls of the capillaries as they rush through your veins, leaving your limbs tingling. Desire flares in your chest, stuffed full and scorching, as they collect at the core of your body, blossoming into a blaze of heat.

“Oh, oh, Sir,” you gasp, eyes squeezing shut before springing open again.

“That’s better,” he teases, though you can see it, the genuine pride shimmering in his eyes. “Look at that, look at how much of a good little girl my cock turns you into.”

“Uh-Uh-huh,” your head lolls dumbly before a stinging slap echoes throughout the vacant aisles, his hand colliding with your skin. A raised outline of his palm and all five fingers sears itself into your flesh, shocking some semblance of wakefulness back into your stunned stupid brain.

“I want you to cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he demands as his forehead falls forward, pressed to your own. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Yes!” you nearly weep out in a high, stringy whine. “Yes, Sir, please, Sir, please!”

He placates you with a quiet hush, blunt nails digging deep crescents into your plush ass while he shuffles your weight, his knees bending slightly as he re-angles his hips, cock drilling fast and strong into your cunt, shaft jabbing against your favourite spot.

That fire he ignited furls in on itself, coiling into a firm, concentrated ball of ardor, twisted tighter and tighter and tighter with each grind of his cock until finally, it bursts, hot droves of ecstasy flooding your body.

It’s so potent that it whites your vision and wipes your brain, breath stalling in your throat as pleasure wrings your body, and you cum so hard, so much, more than you ever have before, warmth gushing out of you in heavy torrents.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it—just like that, make a mess for me,”

And he sounds almost as if he’s in awe, eyes drifting down to where you’re connected, watching as your cunt throbs and spasms around him, watching as streams of shimmering slick glisten on his cock, flowing down his balls and soaking the waistband of his jeans, stretched taut around his thighs. A thick but neatly trimmed sprout of dark curls mops up the remaining wetness, matted and glimmering with your essence.

Muttering, low and sharp, lures you back to reality, misty daze beginning to dissipate, still gauzing up the edges of your vision and encasing your brain in a soft cloud. It isn’t clear how long you’ve been drifting for, sweetheart neckline of your dress clinging to your body and sopping with sweat, apex of your thighs aching as Alhaitham jackhammers into you, jutting hipbones carving out the perfect place for themselves in supple flesh.

“Goddamn it,” he’s groaning, brow furrowed and hands slick with frustration as they attempt to readjust you again, hoisting you up further and tightening his grasp. “I can’t fuck you properly in this position.”

You’re not quite sure what he means, your cum still dribbling down his cock, cunt giving weak little pulses as he pounds into it, every drag of his cockhead against that plush spot procuring another pitiful gush of juices, filmy and sticky, shocks of overstimulation quivering your blood.

There isn’t a moment to ask, though, because then he’s hauling you away from the bookshelves and slamming you down onto the nearest independent study desk, flailing limbs knocking a small table lamp to the floor, skewed light casting crude shadows of your forms on the wall.

A loud cry lacerates your throat as you thwack against the surface, eyes shut tight and nose crinkling as spears of pain shoot up your spine, nestling into the base of your skull.

But he doesn’t seem to care, your discomfort hardly a nick in the fabric of his plan.

Large hands skim along your thighs, molding flesh as they go, hooking beneath your knees and tugging your languid legs from around his waist. A simple jab to each has them reflexively straightening, Alhaitham smirking at the soft whimper of surprise that slips from your lips as he places one ankle on his shoulder, then the other, sharp eyes holding your bleary gaze the entire time.

That’s the only reprieve you’re afforded from his brutal fucking, merciless hips picking up right where they left off the moment your ankles are hooked securely over his shoulders, feet curling around his neck, the tips of your toes routinely bumping together.

“Fuck,” he nearly whines, head rolling back, defined jaw and prominent Adam’s apple on full display.

The fingers burrowing into your hips twitch, grip relaxing then tightening, a feeble attempt to keep your body from sliding away from him, the pumping of his hips shoving you further up the desk, slick skin squealing as it rubs against lacquered wood.

A hand comes to collar your throat, long fingers curling carefully, one by one, as they cuff your neck, while the other stays clamped around your waist, stern and unyielding, fingertips submerged in plush tissue.

Impossibly, this position is so much deeper, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach, a palm slapped flat between your hipbones to feel the bulging head pressing through your flesh with each rut of his hips.

Because he’s so fucking big, cute little hole still straining to swallow down his girth, raw cunt stretching in an attempt to take him, to be good for him.

His fucking has turned vicious, every ram of his cock jostling your entire frame, the hand latched firmly around your neck clutching in retaliation as his grip tightens, using this point as leverage to hold you down, to keep you still.

Your vision begins to blur at the edges as your air supply diminishes, precious little sounds strangled to pitiful little squeaks, wrung out by the palm flattening your windpipe.

“That’s it,” he breathes, his voice simultaneously close and far, wisps of words wavering in the atmosphere around you, caressing your flesh before they vanish. “Good girl, take my cock, such a good girl for her teacher,”

“Yours,” you babble out, the word tangled in threads of spit, muddled and sticky. “Yours, yours, yours, Sir, yours.”

“Mine,” he whimpers, the vice grip on your throat letting up for a moment, the tips of his fingers stroking the line of your jaw, possessive. “My good girl.”

Your entire backside is going to be scraped and slapped raw by the time he’s through with you, dainty hands wrapping around his wrist, holding onto him for stability. And, God, you’re so fucking gorgeous as you stare up at him with such unadulterated devotion, glimmers of admiration in your eyes as you beg him for more, more, more!

“Greedy,” he chastises, the scold nothing more than a huff, voice hoarse as it bows under pleasure. “You want more, huh?”

Christ, yes, please, yes, give me more, Sir, I need more!

And although you’re sure you’re saying them, boiling up your throat and brimming past your lips, the string of pleads is nothing more than indistinct noise to your ears, reverberations shaking your ribs.

His thighs are slamming into the edge of the desk, sharp wood leaving a crease in his skin, muscles flexing and shifting in a desperate attempt to stabilize himself. Rusting metal rakes against the linoleum, its creaky wail twining through the empty aisles, chased and promptly devoured by your cries and his groans.

But you’re barely paying it any attention at all, slushy brain turned amorphous, nebulous, evaporated into a tiny ecstatic galaxy of half-finished rhapsodies, full of him; clusters of his gorgeous noises burst into stars, supernovas of his name blooming across your flesh.

You must be begging for something, babbling on senselessly, nothing more than a cluster of indistinct shudders in your chest, because then he’s speaking to you, the contracting of his fingers nothing more than a blunt pressure.

“You want my cum, baby?” his voice breaks through the universe he’s birthed in your skull, clear and curt. “That what you want?”

Yes, your head is nodding in quick little movements, chin bumping against his forearm. Yes, yes, yes!

“Yeah? Yeah? Show me.”

“Oh, God, Sir,” you nearly sob, feet curling around his neck, gripping him closer, muscles in your legs pulled taut. “Please, please, gimme your cum, Sir, need you to stuff my tummy full of it, Sir, stuff my whole body full of it, Sir, I want it s-so bad!”

A sardonic little laugh huffs past spit-slicked lips, as if you attempt was downright pathetic, as if he knows you can do so much better than that.

“Aw, c’mon,” he scoffs. “That’s the best you got? Show me, baby, show me how badly you need it.”

Nothing more than a mass of pulsating pulp now, your mind can hardly comprehend what he’s saying, unable to stitch together any semblance of meaning from his words, but that’s alright, because it doesn’t have to.

Because your body knows. Your body knows exactly what he’s asking for.

And it gives it to him, almost instantly.

It’s so immediate, so intense that it strikes a scream from your throat, shatters the cosmos he had instilled within you and sends scorching glints of starstuff shooting through your veins, ripples of flesh quavering inward, towards your core, only to be dispelled yet again, forced back the way they came by the incessant snapping of his hips.

The hands curled around his wrist clamp, grip so strong it makes the bones in your fingers ache, stiffly frozen in tiny claws as your orgasm wracks your body, a sticky stream of unintelligible sobs flowing from your lips, hitching in time with his hips.

They’re so dense, so thick, so fucking heavy that they clog your throat, obstructing what little, narrow gaps for air you had left, and you feel like you’re drowning in them, in your desperate pleas for his cum, residual flares of starstuff melting your flesh from the inside out.

Clouds of bliss have formed at the corners of your vision again, and everything feels abraded, overexposed, hypersensitive, nerves gnawed raw to their frayed roots by the pleasure, sweet little cunt sore from such strenuous clenching.

And finally, finally he gives you what you want, the vicious throbbing of his cock the only thing your hazy mind can concentrate on, can grasp ahold of, shreds of focus melding together in an effort to pay attention to it.

Faintly, you can hear a moan fracture on his tongue, lips molding into an involuntary pout at the pleasure muffling your ears and misting your eyes that eclipse his gorgeous sights and sounds from you.

The pressure on your windpipe lets up, wheezy air rushing into your lungs in razored little breaths, Alhaitham’s big body suddenly blanketing your own, his elbows resting on either side of your head. Slim fingers caress your skin, brushing back sweat soaked strands of hair, teal eyes tender as they study your face, careful and courteous. His chest vibrates against yours—warm little tingles that zip through your flesh—and you struggle to listen, muted static fading in and out as your ears begin to tune into his frequency.

“...About, baby?”

“Hmm?”

He laughs, and it’s a fond little sound, mirth-infused breath wafting across your lips, nimble fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek.

“I said, what are you pouting about, baby?”

“Couldn’t see you,” your mumble out, forehead crumpling cutely with the distasted scrunch of your nose, lashes fluttering rapidly as if to accentuate your point. Drops of crystal escape the corners of your eyes, pushed forcefully from their home by your hard blinking and rolling into the hair at your temples. “W-Wanted’a see how pretty you look when you cum.”

“Well,” he begins softly, though there’s a self-satisfied smirk on his face, corners of his mouth twitching slightly, threatening to spread into a full-grown smile. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance soon.”

As your fucked out mind chews on his words, features still chiseled in a deep pout, he stands slowly, taking your rigid hands between his palms and smoothing out your crimped fingers one by one, massaging each joint as he goes.

He’s saying something else to you, something about how lucky you were to be on such a high, vacant floor, something about how you should both right yourselves before one of the monitors wanders on up and catches you, but none of that matters to you; not when his softening cock is slipping from your abused little hole, and thick dollops of his cream are drooling out with it, and if he doesn’t do something soon, it’s gonna be wasted!

“Haitham! Haitham!” you whimper loudly, body thrashing weakly beneath him.

“What?” he asks, sounding just as alarmed as you feel, fingers halting their ministrations as wide eyes scan your face.

“Your cum!” you practically weep out the word, features screwed up in in distress, as if the thought of wasting even a single drop physically pains you.

Head tilting, he frowns slightly. “What—”

“It’s leaking outta me!” you whine, lidded eyes springing open with some effort, beseeching him. “Don’wanna waste any of it! Do something, please, do something, make it stop!”

Another one of those fond chuckles pries past his lips, head shaking a little and muttering to himself about how you’re still his little fucking brat, aren’t you? as he kneels between your thighs, your knees still slung over his shoulder.

You’re still murmuring to yourself, wrecked little complaints that keep slurring together, and Alhaitham hushes you, a thumb stroking the silky skin of your inner thigh. A sharp gasp slices through your words as his tongue pushes into your cunt, tip curling in an attempt to scoop out his cum, the cutest little squeal mangling itself in your throat as your hips wiggle.

“Hey,” he says sternly, fingertips denting plush flesh as the grip on your thighs tightens, your squirming halted immediately. “Stop moving or I won’t give you any at all.”

“M’sorry, Sir,” you say as seriously as you can manage, ghosts of giggles still bubbling in your throat, haunting your words. “I promise I’ll behave, please gimme some.”

“That’s a first,” you hear him grumbling to himself, words slightly garbled by the cum he’s storing in his cheeks. “Maybe I should feed you my cum more often.”

You aren’t afforded a moment to respond to his musings, though, because then his tongue is plunging back into you, hollowing out your cum-stuffed cunt in an almost meticulous method, twisting and twirling and lapping up every last bit of the viscous substance.

You’re pushing yourself up eagerly as he rises, desperate to meet him, arms wobbling a little as you strain, legs falling off his shoulders to pillow his hips.

Large hands wrap around your shoulders, thumbs pressing into the dips of your collarbones as he stabilizes you, tugging you closer to his body and slotting his lips against your own, opened wide and waiting.

He practically shoves his cum into your mouth, tongue grinding in repetitive little rhythms against your own, each stroke depositing another coating of his cream, now diluted by your interspersed saliva, on the slick muscle.

It’s the closest thing to a real kiss that he’s given you all night.

And you can’t help but moan into him, sucking his tongue further into the heat of your mouth, lips puckering tightly around it in a feeble attempt to slurp and swallow down every last drop, bitter and tart and strong, just like his favourite blend of dark roast coffee. Your own tongue twines around his, starved and scrupulous and licking it clean, before the tip dips into the crevices near his molars, sopping up any remaining notes.

“Fucking greedy little girl I’ve got myself here,” he’s mumbling as he finally frees his tongue from your kiss, saliva shimmering on his chin.

“Can’t help it,” you shrug, suddenly feeling shy, cheek tucked into your shoulder and resting against his knuckles. “You just taste so good.”

His gaze softens, melting under your scalding sincerity, and his index finger crooks, tilting your chin up.

“You’re precious,” he admits after a beat of silence, eyes skimming your features in a way that feels light, faint, dainty, as if staring too hard, or observing too assiduously, might break you.

Blinking curiously, your head tilts in his grasp, a question written in the movement.

But he doesn’t answer.

“Here,” his arms hook beneath your own, hauling you off the desk and onto unsteady feet. “Let me fix you up a little. You look all...”

“Fucked out?”

“I was going to say dishevelled, but yes.”

“Your fault,” you say simply.

“It is my fault, which is why I’m fixing you up, brat,” teal eyes flick up from his motions, hands still fussing as he holds your stare, the satisfied little giggle spilling from your throat procuring a small grin from him.

He’s nearly finished righting you when the elevator dings, sending a startle through the both of you, combined gazes flicking towards the chrome doors just as they slide open to reveal a man.

“Uh,” the man begins dumbly, the patch sewn onto his shirt delegating him as library security. “The library’s closing in about ten minutes, so start wrapping up whatever it is you’re working on.”

Despite Alhaitham’s fussing, you still look absolutely fucking wrecked—lips swollen and stained with blood, cheeks and neck streaked with salt and sweat, sweetheart dress still damp and clinging to all your curves and contours—and he’s sure the guard can tell exactly what you were just doing, the man’s beady eyes busy glueing themselves to your body, pupils sucking up every fine detail, singeing them into the tissues of his brain for later use.

A thread of protectiveness surges through Alhaitham’s veins, and his arm curls around your front, shuffling you behind his shoulder; a shield of sorts, a nonverbal warning to the guard and his grubby gaze.

“We’ll be out before closing,” he promises, voice strong, stern, curt, snapping the guard from his perverted reverie.

The guard mutters some nondescript jumble of an approval and nods to himself, Alhaitham waiting until he’s shuffled back into the elevator before he turns towards you, tiny fingers burrowed in the hard muscle of his bicep, clinging to him as you totter on your rickety legs.

And he can’t help the adoring little snort that tickles the back of his tongue as he stares down at you, lashes clumped together in thick spikes and that shimmer as they flitter.

“What does he mean, the library closes in ten minutes?” you ask as Alhaitham finishes tidying up your combined study materials, hands still twisted in the fabric of his sweater, hindering his movements slightly.

“He means that the library closes in ten minutes,” your TA responds dryly, sardonic amusement tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What? Wait!” you cry, voice streaked with high panic, fingers flexing against him and yanking him closer. “But I barely started my research! I—I’m not even close to finished!”

A strong arm twines itself around your hips, heavy palm curled in an almost possessive manner around the bone as he supports the majority of your faltering weight, exhausted body fusing into his touch and allowing him to guide you toward the exit.

“Well, then I guess we’ll have to come back, won’t we?” he responds coolly, smoothly, leaning down to murmur in your ear as the pair of you reach the elevator. “And you better not be such a fucking brat next time.”

“I mean,” you’re saying nonchalantly as you step through the chrome doors, mischief dancing on your lips and glittering in your eyes, both arms wrapped around his waist squeezing him closer, tighter. “If that will be my punishment again, then I can’t make any promises.”

It’s impossible to impede his head as it droops to plant a doting kiss to the crown of your head, pausing for a breath before sowing a few more along your hairline for good measure, doused in affection.

Because it’s then that he realizes that the brat that resides within you—inherent, instinctual, in a way—hasn’t actually been sated or tamed at all, but merely lulled into a sort of complacency; a sweet slumber that it’ll be snapped from the moment something doesn’t go your way, or you don’t get what you want.

It is untameable, insatiable, nearly uncontrollable, always ready to resurface at the best of times, the worst of times, the most unpredictable of times, to dare and challenge and defy, and that’s exactly why he loves you.

#alhaitham smut #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham thirst #genshin smut #genshin impact smut

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sunshine304 · 5 months

Text

FTH Fanbinding: "Kaleidoscope" by Silvergirl

Whew. This was quite the undertaking as I’d felt ambitious. @totallysilvergirl was the winner of my FTH fanbinding auction and chose one of her own fics, from a fandom I’m actually in (Sherlock). I’d skimmed her AO3 to see what fics might be her potential choice and had immediately zeroed in on “Kaleidoscope”. The title was evocative and the plot sounded intriguing, being a fix-it for the end of Season 3. Good-sized wordcount, too.

I was super happy when she actually chose this fic!

The typesetting took me a long time and I leaned very heavily into the whole kaleidoscope theme. I also decided to use different colours and fonts for the different PoVs.

This was also the first time I tried out a title page spreading over both pages – usually, I’ve only used the right page and the left one stayed blank, but I wanted to try spreading out the picture this time. It worked quite well, overall.

For endpapers, I chose this lovely purple Chiyogami paper. Purple has become Sherlock’s colour, in a way, and so it seemed quite fitting. I strengthened the crease with Schirting again.

Also, because the book had 8 signatures, I think, I sewed with tapes to make the spine more secure. It was the second time trying this and it worked really well!

Now to the case. Oh boy. XD

I had to think a bit about the cut-out design. I wanted it to yet again resemble a kaleidoscope, but it took me a while to wrap my head around how best to do it. I finally decided to make a stencil for the centrepiece and add some more elements without cut-outs.

I decided on the lovely shattered glass rainbow foil and am super in love with the effect, especially on the spine! I think it looks so cool!

I not only made SilverGirl’s copy but also one for myself. They’re very similar, just the endpapers and the foil on the cover are different.

I messed up on the spine title on my copy a bit. The fight with the foil is real. *sigh* But it’s not too bad.

A huge thank you again to Silvergirl for participating in FTH this year and for putting her trust in me!

Materials used:

Printed on Clairefontaine DCP 100g

Case + endpapers:

- English Buckram linen

- Chiyogami paper 60g (endpapers)

- hot foil (Decofoil)

The fic in question (go check it out, it's really great!):

#my fanbinding #fanbinding #arts and crafts #bookbinding #fth #fandom trumps hate #fth crafts bazaar #books #sherlock #my posts

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nahoney22 · 6 months

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hi hello I don’t know how to use tumblr but your blog convinced me (I had no idea there was such a gold mine of E V E R Y T H I N G on tumblr whew). Anyway I’m a slut for some slow burn romance, can I request something with Echo? Maybe reader has known him since 501st days and liked him since, and learning he lived and joined the bad batch just made her NEED to find him again? Ps I love you, you’re a beautiful soul ok bye

All Roads Lead to You

Echo X F!Reader

word count: 1.7k

Learning from Rex that Echo was alive, you knew you had to find him and after so many years and confess how you really feel for him before it’s too late again.

warnings: Fluff, cute reunion, mutual pining, friends to lovers, first kiss, brief mentions of Echo at the citadel, mentions of death. Safe for work. Female reader. Not proofread.

authors note: oh my darling @burningfieldof-clover I’m so sorry for the delay 🙈 this got lost in my drafts. Enjoy 🤍

"Hey, are you alright?"

Rex's voice reached your ears, but the words remained trapped in your throat. You stood there, rooted to the spot, a whirlwind of emotions raging within you. Tears welled up in your eyes as a million thoughts raced through your mind. Then again, how does one react to the miraculous news that the man you had loved for countless years, the man you had believed to be lost forever, was now alive?

It took the gentle wave of a hand in front of your face to snap you out of your daze. Blinking back your tears, you focused on Rex, who wore a concerned expression. "You okay?"

"Echo's alive?" you finally managed to croak out, your voice trembling with a mixture of disbelief and hope.

A soft, reassuring smile graced Rex's lips as he nodded. "Yes, he's alive. He's been with another squad for quite some time now."

The shock of the revelation left you struggling to grasp the reality of the moment. Rex had delivered this life- news with such casual ease, unaware of the immense significance it held for you. He couldn't possibly fathom the depths of your feelings for the Arc Trooper.

Rex guided you to a quiet spot and began to unravel the incredible story of Echo's survival. To your horror, he painted a vivid picture of the ordeal Echo had endured from the Techno Union, how he was rescued and his choice about joining another squad. You truly had no ideal to cope with all this information, other than stare at Rex dumbfounded.

You had abandoned your position within the GAR years ago, unable to bear the pain of Echo's supposed death. But now, a chance had emerged, a chance to find Echo and to finally confess the love you had hidden away for years. However, the question of whether it was too late, whether Echo even held the same feelings for you, loomed large. But you had to find out one way or another. “How do I find Clone Force 99?”

Rex had been kind enough to provide you with the coordinates of the last known location Echo was heading to, and you had promptly booked a shuttle to get there. The journey was arduous, with doubt gnawing at your thoughts the entire way. Your mind whispered that this might be a foolish mistake, but the need to see Echo, to confirm his existence with your own eyes, outweighed all hesitation.

As the shuttle touched down on the unfamiliar planet, you felt a sense of disorientation and timid uncertainty. You questioned whether you should first explore your surroundings or make an attempt to find Echo yourself.

However, your gaze was drawn to the vast expanse of the ocean. It had been too long since you had witnessed such natural beauty, the sun's gentle rays dancing on the water's surface. The clean, fresh air was a stark contrast to the stuffy atmosphere of the deeper levels of Coruscant. You had overheard that this planet served as a refuge for many after the Clone Wars, and it seemed like the perfect place for it.

Lost in contemplation, you were brought back to the present by the presence of a small girl standing beside you, her bright brown eyes and short blonde hair catching your attention. She gazed up at you and inquired, "Are you okay?"

You offered her a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, thanks. Just... taking it all in."

She eagerly inquired, "I love it here. Are you visiting someone or staying?"

Your soft laughter filled the air as you found her nosiness to be quite charming. Truth be told, you didn't see a reason to hide the purpose of your visit. "Visiting someone."

Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Who? Maybe I know them?" Her eagerness was infectious, and you couldn't help but notice the familiarity in her eyes, a certain resemblance that tugged at your memories.

You began to answer, "Alright, he's called Ec—"

But before you could finish, a commanding voice interrupted, "Omega, come. We need to get going." The voice sent a shockwave through your heart, and your breath caught in your throat. It was a voice you had longed to hear, one you thought you'd never hear again.

Omega let out a sigh and offered you an apologetic look before turning and hurrying to the source of the voice. As you turned to see the speaker, your heart skipped a beat. Echo stood there, so different yet unmistakably the same. His gaze on you was strong, as if trying to piece a picture together of who you were.

"But Echo, I was helping her find someone," Omega protested, gesturing towards you. Her words were distant as Echo's gaze locked onto yours, trying to recognise the changes in your appearance from the last time he had seen you. Your hair, clothing, and your civilian guise had replaced the uniformed visage he remembered.

Interrupting the profound moment, Omega's question rang out, but both you and Echo remained captivated by the connection rekindled in that shared gaze. Soon, the other members of Echo’s squad gathered by Omega's side.

Hunter's curiosity was piqued as he observed the unfolding interaction, and he couldn't help but ask, "What's going on?" Omega simply shrugged, her eyes trained on Echo and you.

With a few more tentative steps, Echo closed the distance between you, his head tilted slightly as if to analyse you, to confirm that it was really you. Your voice quivered as you managed to say, "Hi, Echo," and he echoed your name in a soft, heartfelt tone.

A warm smile graced his lips as he admitted, "I can't believe it's you."

A gentle, albeit slightly teasing, response escaped your lips. "I could say the same."

Finally, the emotional barrier gave way, and you found yourselves locked in each other's arms, holding each other as though afraid to let go. "

I've missed you so much," you whispered into his chest, your glistening eyes revealing the depths of your longing. The tears threatened to spill, impossible to hold back any longer.

And then, an unexpected comment from one of Echo's companions, "I didn't know Echo had a girlfriend,” broke the tender moment and you could not help but laugh.

“Let me introduce you to the others,” Echo pulls out of the hug, offers you a reassuring smile and guides you to his new comrades.

Later that evening after some good, really good food, yourself and Echo take a walk down by the shore. Making small talk and catching up on everything you both have missed, it felt like nothing changed between you both. It was everything you could have hoped for.

"I really can't believe you're here," Echo chuckled, a sense of disbelief lingering in his voice. "I never thought I'd see you again."

A soft smile graced your lips as you matched his pace, coming to a stop as you spoke. "Me either."

Then, with a touch of hesitation, you blurted out, "So, uh, are you seeing anybody?" The question took even you by surprise, and it seemed to have a similar effect on Echo. His curiosity was piqued as he observed your flustered expression.

He folded his arms over his chest, shaking his head. "No, are you?"

Your reply came swiftly, perhaps a bit too swiftly for your liking. "No." You didn't give yourself a chance to consider the implications of your response, and Echo didn't press further.

His next question, however, held a hint of teasing, and his voice carried a subtle tone of curiosity. "Oh yeah? And why's that?" It seemed as though he was studying you, and for a brief moment, you thought he might have moved a bit closer, but it was hard to tell if it was just your imagination.

Your breath wavered as you gazed into Echo's eyes, your heart racing just like the first time you had ever met him. It felt like the right moment to lay bare the truth, to let him in on the emotions that had been tucked away for far too long.

"I have feelings," you began, your voice steady but your eyes now avoiding his, "for you. I have feelings for you."

Echo's eyes widened, and he blinked in astonishment, his words caught in his throat as he grappled with the unexpected confession. "You have feelings," he repeats, taking a step closer, his voice barely more than a whisper, "for me?"

You dipped your head, nodding as you ran a hand through your hair nervously. "I always have, Echo. I've loved you for so, so many years." The truth hung in the air between you, a confession that had been kept in the shadows for far too long.

The crashing waves almost drowned out the deafening silence that followed Echo's lack of response to your confession. Regret started to surge through you, the weight of the confession now hanging heavily in the clear air, making the situation uncomfortable and awkward.

"Sorry, I should go," you quickly uttered, turning to leave, but before you could take a step, his hand swiftly caught your wrist, pulling you back towards him. You stumbled slightly, finding yourself suddenly close to his chest, confusion painting your eyes.

In a moment that felt like a dream, Echo leaned in, nose nudging against your own and his breath brushing against your face with his lips hovering close to yours. "Echo?" you whispered, a rush of chills coursing through your body.

"I love you too," he finally uttered, his eyes closing as his lips met yours in a tender, affectionate embrace. "I've loved you since the first night I met you," he confessed, his warm breath mingling with yours as his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer.

The kiss unfolded slowly, a perfect and intensely romantic connection, a moment that exceeded all your imagined dreams of being with Echo. It felt surreal, but his touch, his lips, assured you of his reality. When the kiss finally parted, he breathed, "Stay with us. Stay with me."

In that instant, any doubt vanished. You knew you would never even consider leaving his side again. Echo's confession sealed the bond, and you embraced the certainty that this was where you belonged, in his arms.

Masterlist

Taglist if you want to be added or removed (please note I’ll remove you if you’re not interacting with my work 🤍)

Tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova a @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @sol-the-otter @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @imalovernotahater @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @id-rather-be-a-druid @the-bad-batch-baroness @photogirl894

#echo x reader #bad batch echo #the bad batch #tbb echo x reader #the bad batch echo x reader #tbb #nahoney22 writes

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noroi1000 · 1 year

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could i request a gojo x yn where yn is a famous supermodel while gojo is like businessman mafia and she meets him in a part for influential ppl and some rival of gojo attack the party to catch gojo but can't do it and to save y/n gojo takes her with him in a hurry to make sure she's fine ( bro fell in love at first sight while y/n doesn't really care bcs yk very hard to be impressed type of lady ) but a plot twist in this setting sort of is that there has been cases of many murders recently and the serial killer is impossible to catch ( the killer is y/- ok yes u get it but she killed them bcs she ruined her family or sum like that so our baddie is taking revenge ) well this is a dark theme dark romance request so yep ofc there's dark content and no one knows abt y/n's past at all despite her status no matter how hard they try and gojo after taking her makes her stay with him bcs she's one of the few ppl who saw his face so for privacy purposes and gojo barely finds out abt y/n's "dark deeds" when she throws hints playfully ( she's kinda devious morally grey sort of woman ) and idk what to add much more honestly but yea a smexy romantic love story ( SUB GOJO PLEASE 🙏😍😩 ) and gojo brings her a person to kill every year on her bday bcs she feels "stabby" ( mindfuck book series ref if ykyk ) also ofc y/n continues her career as a supermodel bcs 💅🏼👠. as another personal preference don't make y/n younger as it's uncomfy to me so yeah jsjdndbdnfn

whew this was quite a lot

have a good day !

Beautiful Vengeance

cover by @blvckryx my advisor and friend

paring: Mafia boss Gojo x model reader (killer)

words: 4,7k

warnings: murders, violence, guns, some kidnaping, smut (sub Gojo/dom reader)

Your mother always wanted you to have a good life. That's why when you told her you wanted to be a model when you grow up, she supported you as much as she could. To give you what you might need to make your dreams come true.

Your career took off when you were a teenager. When you were 16, you won a modeling contest, and your name made headlines.

And because you took the victory from one person, your life was about to end...

You competing with a girl whose family was more important than yours. You won anyway thanks to your innate charm, which made you stand in the first place and people considered you a beautiful, future model.

Thanks to this, your career could continue to roll and grow. And you couldn't take that chance.

You've worked so hard. You were the pride of your parents.

But your only opponent was a spoiled female dog who after losing to you all she wanted was to get rid of you.

She was the niece of mob boss Q. A man going by the name Q, who made his living by killing people for hire, dealing drugs and weapons. Even human trafficking. His mafia teams were everywhere.

You didn't know about it until you saw a group of people enter your house.

You were in your room then, and you heard screams and sounds of fighting.

As you quickly made your way down to your parents' living room, all you saw was pools of blood covering the soft carpet.

And three people dressed in black with black masks on their faces. In their hands bloody knives that they used to make your parents lie on the floor with open but dead eyes.

You were sad. You were afraid. You lost your parents. You wanted to cry over their loss. They were everything to you. They loved you, you loved them. You could have lived with them 16 years of your life. And now... It's all over.

Or you die and join them. To shorten your suffering.

But something else popped into your mind. To make them suffer.

You could have died at their hands, or you could have gotten revenge for your parents by killing them.

And you want revenge for the destruction of your life...

So you silently walked over to the cupboard until the opponents saw you, and unscrewing the bottle you let the water flow out of the plastic, soaking the entire floor where one of the people was standing.

You smashed a nearby lamp on his head and stabbed him with the sharpened glass at the end. Throwing the damaged item onto the wet floor, you jumped back quickly, letting his body quiver with the current coursing through him.

You hit the other's neck with your elbow, pulling his head back until you heard a crack.

Such easy ways to kill someone...

You've already killed two people with your own hands. Even if the metallic, disgusting smell of blood was nauseating.

Before you were stabbed by the last man, you took the knife from the dead body, and plunged the bloody blade into his chest.

While his body was still moving, he managed to scratch your head with the tip of the knife, just above the ear. Cutting off some of your shiny hair. Making your ear and the side of your neck covered in drops of blood.

The man in front of you writhed in pain as you pushed the knife hilt towards him, holding the knife in it. Stuck in his sternum in the chest.

Even though you saw the fear of death in his eyes, you felt no regret. Even if he cried and looked at you pleadingly, you showed no mercy.

Just like they had no mercy for your parents.

As he fell to the floor, the knife fell out of his chest, staying in your hand. Covering your hands in scarlet liquid.

When he was twitching and moving away with the last strength, you just walked over to him, and sitting on his stomach, you drove the knife into his heart, slowly watching the life fade from his eyes.

You felt your pajamas soaking in warm sticky blood. However, you didn't let go of the blade as you walked over to your parents and hugged them, not caring how dirty and bloody you were. You slowly and gently closed your eyes and left the house. Heading to a place where you know where a girl used to live surrounding herself with people with "Q" marks on their clothes.

There was a calm expression on your face as you walked straight down the runway, focusing on going perfect. The flashes of the flash bouncing off your eyes. The outfit you're wearing looks so good on you. One of the collections of one of the most famous fashion designers has been selected for you. Alternating with two other models, you go out there, showing the clothes on your body for less than a minute. A then you go back to change into your next outfit, and leave when it's your next turn.

It was your job.

You like it. You are a famous model.

And you don't mind that people only look at what your body looks like.

You go to clothes exhibitions, you take part in advertisements for clothes, cosmetics, nail polishes, jewelry. You are the face of many advertisements.

A lot of people who hire you choose you because you're sexy. And there is mystery in you. And your eyes show killer sexiness.

Your pose is flawless, sophisticated.

Everyone who knew you talked about this mystery in photos and videos. Something obtained without photomontage and without any additional make-up.

And Dark Beauty when you're seen in the ads for the blood red collection. Everything from lips to nails was a rich red.

That color just reminded you of what had happened over the years of your life. You don't care as long as no one knows about it.

Besides, your revenge isn't quite complete yet.

When you were 16, you swore revenge on those who hurt your family and you. You are 23 now. You are a famous model that neither the media nor anyone knows the whole truth about.

Nobody knows anything about your childhood, nobody knows anything about your past.

"Our killer only kills those from Q? Pretty good..." the white-haired man muttered, looking at the lists of names killed by one person this month. Three people. He couldn't feel sorry for these people. Each of them had the symbol of the Q family. How could he worry about the death of his enemies?

"Gojo-san, there's going to be a fashion show party soon with Q's boss."

He looked at the man who had spoken to him.

He stood up, adjusting his white shirt, adjusting the collar. He put on a black jacket and black glasses hiding his face.

"I couldn't miss it. Let's get together, guys. Time to bust some Q's heads."

Upon arrival, Gojo sat in a chosen spot next to the raised stage for models.

Soon after, the lights all around went out. The stage was lit.

This made it difficult for them to find their target.

So they decided to wait until the main banquet and party started to catch their enemies then.

Those who hinder his mafia cannot exist. Creating a business is a daily routine for the great "Six Eyes. And when people who have contracts with him are suddenly found dead with a "Q" burned into their skin, he can't sit idly by.

When he watched the fashion show, he thought it was everything he had seen before. All models the same, with fake smiles, with everything to make them even more attractive to the viewer. In none of them, in his opinion, was one whose eyes reflected the soul. And Six Eyes draws attention to human eyes. He knows people's eyes when they show fear or anger. When they show emotion. According to him, there was nothing interesting in the eyes of these women.

Until you came out from behind the curtain, walking calmly ahead. In an elegant black dress.

Your face showed a certain coldness, but warm at the same time. Your eyes were so mysterious.

White hair caught your attention, and you looked at him once.

And then, the mysterious darkness in your eyes made his heart beat faster.

Despite your emanating true model face, coupled with a nice façade, he felt your beauty was deadly. And he liked it very much. Mysterious danger.

A beautiful cat that can scratch her claws at any time. Even to death.

His eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he felt a little blush appear on his cheeks.

It was the first time he fell in love with someone at first sight.

No... It was the first time he truly fell in love. And he didn't want to lose this chance.

That's why he memorized as many details of your face as possible to catch you at the party after the fashion show. Because he sincerely hoped you'd be there.

Even if this party here may be bloody and trashed tonight.

But the moment everyone heard a few shots and one man fell to the floor lifeless, Gojo knew that this was no time for love or fun for him.

After all, he came here to get rid of enemies in an easy way.

And the orders to anyone who came with him said only: "If you see someone from Q, shoot without hesitation. They're definitely here."

All the people panicked and started to run.

And then each of them took out a gun and started shooting at the enemies.

When the white-haired man saw that you were standing behind the curtain on the stage, without a moment's thought he ran ahead, jumped on the platform and pulled you on his shoulder, to sit behind a meter high and shoot to protect you. His goal in sight has already killed three opponents today.

"What're you-?!" You screamed as you pulled away from him.

You already had a plan to approach one of the Q's from behind and slit his throat!

And he interrupted you.

"Don't be afraid, you won't die." He said to you.

You couldn't see his eyes clearly through his glasses. But you know he's not a cop.

You are in the middle of a fight between mafias.

Arrows started raining in your direction and he then quickly pulled you in front of him, making you kneel in front of him, and he lowered your head to his chest as he bent down so they wouldn't shoot him.

As he knelt, leaning forward, you were underneath his body. That's how he protected you.

You don't know why he did it. But you guess there's a deeper meaning to it.

It was the first time anyone protected you. It was nice of him. Because that man didn't even know you. You only looked at each other once during the show. Few minutes ago!

When there were fewer shots in your direction, you crawled out from under his chest, heading around the narrow stage.

And you, too, reached into your thigh and pulled out a folding knife.

Ignoring the screams of the white-haired man behind you and the shots, you kept walking. Until you finally saw a man with a "Q" tattoo on his neck.

You literally felt the knife sharpening in your hand and you quickly walked over to him without making a sound and smashed the knife into his neck. And then to the side of the head.

You quickly pulled away and sheathed the knife to check for blood. Fortunately not.

You were pulled to your feet by the same man who tried to save you right after all the shots had stopped.

You looked at his face without glasses.

You noticed the beauty and unique vigor of the eyes.

You heard another shot.

You looked to the side to see a dark haired man firing a gun at a man who was sitting with his back against the stage to make sure he was dead. With his head on the side. Because of this, no one could see the hole in his temple and neck, which is why he died.

"That's everyone. None of them managed to escape." He said, addressing the white-haired man. "What about her? Shoot? You don't have glasses."

He pointed the barrel of the gun at you.

You'd love to fight. If only that guy's hands weren't on your shoulders.

"She saw my face, huh... It's okay. We're taking her with us." He said with a smile.

"What?!" you shouted pissed off.

"Baby, you couldn't see my face. It's not against the rules of my Mafia. No one except those closest to me has seen my face or knows my real name. According to the rules, I should kill you or lock you up so you don't tell anyone. However, killing you would be a great loss. You're so beautiful and you got me curious... I don't want to kill someone I fell in love with."

"...Hold on!" You screamed as you pushed him, but he only held you tighter.

"Come on. I just have to admit there's something mysterious about your eyes. What you show on stage is not the real you, is it?"

"Fuck off!"

"Aw, honey..." he mumbled sadly.

He started to drag you by the wrist to the car. And even though you kept leaning against you, when the other man helped him to immobilize your arms, you were put in the car and he got in right behind you. The door was closed.

You noticed the black window in front of you, separating you from the driver.

That's good. Maybe you can kill him.

When he looked away for a moment, you put your hand under your dress, pulling your knife from the belt on your thigh, and suddenly jumped into his lap, putting the blade to his throat.

"Hey, baby, this is how you repay me for helping me? Understand that these are the rules we have." He said with a smile, hands raised in front of you.

"I could handle myself." You growled.

"Such a dangerous, beautiful woman. What part is the real you?"

"Who are you?! Someone from Q?!"

"Slow down a bit. Actually, it's like I'm taking you, so I should be the one asking the questions. But okay. I'm Six Eyes. Mafia boss. And when it comes to Q, I'm their biggest adversary."

You wondered if you should trust him. He didn't seem threatening now. Also, there was no Q anywhere here.

Holding the knife to his throat, you hesitated for a moment on what to do.

This caused his hands to quickly pull you down to the seat. His both hands held your wrists while his hips touched your ass as you lay on your stomach.

"If I was from Q, I'd rather kill myself than be there. And besides, everyone from Q would pay no attention to anything. They would just tie you up, rape you, kill you, and then dump your body in a ditch. Did I do that?"

"If you tried, I'd castrate you." You growled.

"Dangerous. I like it. However..." he let go of your wrists and sat in his place, giving you space. "I don't know if you could do something for me. I must admit your ferocity and hostility is strong. But let's say I'm the Mafia boss and you're the model."

"Do not underestimate me..."

"So tell me, (y/n) (l/n), why shouldn't I underestimate you? Tell me something about you. Because you are famous, but your biography is not known by anyone."

You were locked up in the large villa that was his home for several days. Why? Because he didn't want to lock you up in your old garages. He didn't want you gagged and bound while you sat there for who knows how long.

Your relationship was closer because you liked him. However, there was still some tension between the two of you.

Him, the annoying, selfish asshole and egotist who spoke to you the way he wanted to, and always came in when you least expected it.

He was able to come to you in the bathroom while you were taking a bath.

And he joined you.

That's why things became intimate between the two of you quickly, even though you weren't even a couple. You could just be considered friends now.

And you both liked the relationship you already had.

Nothing changed for the next two weeks.

It doesn't matter how many times you hit him with a pan until he finally let you go.

Of course he didn't because he acted like a child after being hit on the head with a pan. He pretended to cry.

You took good care of him and checked him for any head injury. Everything was fine. So you didn't have to worry.

And then he wouldn't let you get out of bed, wanting to make you feel guilty for doing it.

He was lying on your stomach, making you rub and stroke his head because it hurt. And it was your fault.

You apologized to him, and what else were you supposed to do?

It was your revenge for him locking you in here. And for skipping one of the most important performances where you were supposed to show clothes on stage. However, you couldn't complain, because as compensation for your lost money, you received from him a wardrobe worth half a year of your work. Or even more.

If only he was still good at sex, then you wouldn't complain so much. Because your partners were terrible. It's as if they couldn't do anything.

Besides, you've also been given a luxurious house that you have to live with him anyway.

"Come on. I already apologized to you..." you said, running your fingers through his white hair.

"But it hurt..." he said, pretending to cry.

"You don't even have a trace of it. There isn't even a bump on your head."

"But it still hurt...

"You've probably watched the ball through your opponents more than once, right?"

"Not at all..."

"You're in the mafia, Satoru..."

So yes, he told you his real name with the idea that you can't leave him and leave his house anyway. So your names were used by you on a daily basis.

"I've been in the mafia since my mother gave birth to me. I took it from my father... Besides, nobody ever shot me. Because I shot faster and more accurately than they did. When I was 15 I killed a spy who was looking for our weak point in our defense." He laughed, purring as your fingers swirled in his hair.

"So you had a bloody childhood too?"

"I doubt you shot anyone when you were a teenager." He laughed. "How old are you anyway?"

"I'm 23." You replied.

"Same as me! You see? We are made for each other!" He stood up suddenly, looking at you with sparkles in his eyes.

"Apparently you have a headache." You laughed as you saw him quickly lay down on top of you again. "Come on. Come, let me stroke you a little more."

"Which means you had a bloody childhood?"

"Do you really want to know? Don't you prefer that I leave my mysterious eyes?"

"You're smart and cold, or so you think. At fashion shows and commercials, you change it to a mysterious and sensual façade. However, you can care for someone else."

"I hit you with a pan. Is this supposed to be taking care of someone?"

He laughed slightly.

"It was different. Because I don't forbid you to be aggressive. I understand that you hate me. But now you're stroking and hugging me. You wash me while I wash you. We are not such enemies. Can you say we're lovers?"

"I don't know. But when I was 16, I also did something that probably no other model has ever done." You laughed.

He looked at you for a moment, analyzing what you said.

And 7 years ago, almost 10 people were murdered. And from that moment on, the murders of everyone in the Q group and family began. Starting with some of the closest ones from the family of the boss himself.

And these murders continue to this day. The murderer is impossible to catch because no one knows who he is. The gender of this person is unknown. No one knows what his goals are in these murders.

"This knife... You..." He looked at you questioningly.

"I have a knife scar under my hair. And the blood stains are washing off the skin." You said softly. "You can beat me if you know the truth now. If you think I'll be in the way or I shouldn't kill people like them. But remember that if you try, I will try to protect myself."

"You know it doesn't matter to me We may even be partners in crime. Because this is the woman I fell in love with at first sight." He hugged you, holding you tight.

Your actions for revenge are not ridiculed by him. On the contrary. He supports it.

And he promises that everyone from Q will die.

Because he fell in love with mysterious dark eyes. Eyes that from the beginning hid something murderous. So beautiful.

Just like all of you.

Your relationship was like lovers and enemies at the same time.

Or was it more like partners in crime now?

Dark lovers who don't care about the lives of their enemies. You has a mafia boss, the famous Six Eyes, wrapped around your little finger.

You guided him. His heart.

Such a powerful man was so small and sweet to you. So submissive.

That's why you could give that big little boy what he wanted.

You were still riding his cock until you were out of breath that night.

Or rather, his breath.

When you wonder if he's good at sex, you thought he was going to be average.

However, it is different.

He has a big nice dick.

It really stretches you out. It goes so deep. It hits all the best places.

You could barely feel the thin condom against his thick length as your pussy slid over him, lovingly inviting him into your tight warmth every time you lowered your hips.

His arms were bound with the string you found. It felt so good in his muscles.

He couldn't move while you scratched his arms and bit his neck.

You were riding him, making him moan. His hips pushed upward to meet your warmth. Your hand on the back was catching his balls and you were squeezing the skin in your palm. You pinched his thighs. You ran your hands over his lower abdomen, running your fingers along the veins running down his pubic bone.

Your fingernails ran over his chest, occasionally grazing his nipples.

While riding him, you massaged your clitoris to make you come faster. And you smiled as you watched as his head was thrown back as he red-faced moaned at the feeling of your pussy sucking him. His chest heaved rapidly.

His cock twitched inside you.

And then you pulled it out of you, leaving it out in the air. Only with a thin condom on it.

He moaned as your fingers tightened on the base of him, not allowing him to come.

It was his first ruined orgasm you gave him.

And you think he was always driving during sex. He was downstairs now, but he didn't protest. This guy just needed someone to dominate him the right way.

Very slowly and unbearably, you took the condom off him as the precum began to form a transparent puddle in the sperm reservoir.

Leaning down to his red cock, you kissed his head, listening as he moaned, his hips jumping as he felt a sudden touch against a sensitive part of his body.

He was so red and sensitive from a ruined orgasm. It was so cute.

You sat on his hips, and rubbed your pussy against his length, pressing his shaft against his muscular belly.

At the same time, you pulled his face down to your chest, doing something he always did when he saw you shirtless. You put his head in your breasts and he immediately started sucking on your nipples. Feeling the softness of your skin.

Soon after, he started moaning again and you stopped touching his cock again. If he wasn't tied up now, he would grab the length of it and start stroking himself to feel relieved. But alas, his hands were tied. There was nothing he could do and he was at your mercy.

You pressed your fingers against it again. Ensuring not one drop of his cum will come out of his tip. He couldn't come yet.

You want to see him throw his head back and moan when he wants to cum so much.

You sat on his cock when he didn't have a condom on, and he hissed through his teeth at the hot and tight feeling when he had nothing to separate your insides from his sensitive skin.

You grabbed the second condom and ripped open the wrapper. Only then did you get off of him, watching his wet tip drool.

You put the rubber all the way down his length, and then you sat on him again.

Warming his cock until his eyes were glassy and hazy and his face was so red.

As he threw his head back and his shoulders and hips trembled, wanting to start thrusting into you to come, you gave him some mercy.

You started jumping on top of him, smiling as you watched his heavy breathing and closed eyes.

The mighty mafia boss began to moan beneath you. And his ragged moans coupled with light sobs were the cause of his intense orgasm which was a combination of the three he was about to get. His thighs trembled as he came filling the condom inside you, the heat from his fluids pushing his sensitivity to the limit.

As you pulled him out of you, his cock fell soft against his stomach. You took the filled condom off him and tied it, putting the sticky rubber on his abs.

You lay down next to him, untying his hands, letting him pull your body against his.

Your nights together made him unable to resist you. So when you wanted to go back to your dream job, he had to agree.

Two people followed you across the city.

Even if he trusted you not to tell anyone.

He had your secret and you had his.

Little cameras in people's suits let him see what you were doing.

Well, he knew what you would do with those two.

Besides, he didn't feel sorry for them. They were two deserters who ran away from Q to join his mafia.

And he promised you that everyone who is or even was with Q will die.

That's why when he suddenly saw a pool of blood on the other side, he wasn't surprised and didn't even feel sorry for the two people.

Then he saw your face as you held the camera in one hand and your knife in the other.

"Not nice, Six Eyes ~. I don't like being followed. And we'll keep your punishment for that for later, Okay?"

When you said that, he felt a pleasant shiver that passed over his spine. And he couldn't wait for you to come home.

You were his dark queen.

His dark, beautiful queen will have her beautiful vengeance.

Because you will get everything.

Every year, on your birthday, he would take you to one place where the dirty work of killing was often done.

As a surprise, you got one or two high-ranking Q people.

Because his beautiful queen will always get what she wants.

So if you want revenge, you'll get it. In the best way for you.

You are his killer beauty. His deadly love.

#gojou satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #Mafia boss Gojo #jjk #jjk x you #jujustu kaisen #gojo #jjk x reader #Sub Gojo

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onskepa · 21 days

Note

HELLO HALO HELLO! I SAW THE UPDATE THINGY AND NOW I HAVE ARRIVED WITH A REQUEST! Whew!

Okay so here me Out! I've been thinking about neteyam alot but I have yet to request maybe some neteyam and Aonung together falling for reader

My request is based of a made up Tribe I Made,

/backround information/

the tribe is called the Tawsyuram (Aurora Mountain) tribe who live on a mountain high above a sea of clouds.

The original Tawsyuram clan had almost gone extinct due to a destructive Na'vi clan, but was saved and had grown anew due to the help of a large close knit group of humans from the slums on earth. Due to they're now Tsahik, Mai a human woman who was a doctor trained in surgery and herbal medicine was able to regrow and heal the spirit tree using an earth seed (when I do my full info thing on my tumblr you'll learn more, but that's later!)

Due to the healing of the spirit that houses Mother earth's (daughter 'Rrta) spirit herself a plant had blossomed allowing the humans to breath great mother Eywa's air the humans along side they're now Na'vi spirit family live in harmony over many years.

(They live within the mountain caverns)

/the request/

The Sully's were originally traveling to hide away from the RDA and Quaritch, were going to seek uturu from the Metakiyan, that was until they cam across this young avatar driver? Na'vi teen? Saying her clan would be able to hide them from the RDA gladly.

Neteyam who was intranced by this strange bubbly and wild girl who (as his father called it) talked like an excitable hippie, was absolutely gorgeous... and it would seem his soon to be mate Aonung would agree, also just a little question but, how the HELL IS SHE FLYING AN IKRAN WITHOUT TSAHEYLU!?!?

\Basically I would like to request the Sully's and Tonowari's family having to go into hiding and stuff meet this Ki (a character from Mars needs Moms) like teen girl who finds the Sully's mid travel and offers to shelter them within her tribe since they'll be much more accepted there. They arrived at the floating Mountain, though quite dizzy since they aren't used to being this high above, and are welcomed by the Tsahik who is a bit ditzzy though very calming and understanding, high difficult to anger see's there strife and welcomes them wholeheartedly all the while kinda jokingly yet a tad bit seriously scolding her daughter (the reader) about how she wasn't supposed to leave the Mountain until she was 18 to pass her Iknimaya (since those in the tribe bond with they're ikran's just before they hatch at a young age, giving them time to learn how to fly and practice the bonding dance when they are 18.) Along the way Neteyam and Aonung fall pretty hard for the happy go lucky tsakarem.

Basically the Sully's coming to learn a different side to humanity than they're used to./

\a bit more info to help with the story/

That Tawsyuram's healing hut is sheltered between three gigantic curly trees with book shelves holding many medical records, medicine information and tactics. With a huge curly tree in the middle with glass jars holding glowing bug fireflies to light of the room, tables and comfy sleeping mats and big pillows on the floor in the open spaces of the room for the patients.

Little ones at the age of 6 to 9 will go up to the Ikran nest that house the expecting ikran parents to be with either a food gift or a nesting gift, That is only given when the the egg wiggles in the direction towards its chosen, sensing its soon to be rider. After the gifts are given the children will carry the egg in a type of bundle strapped to they're chest making it easier to carry to a large crystal that gives off heat, watching as the ikran hatches from its egg on a soft nesting near the crystal. The baby will then nip its chosen on they're skin too show they have chosen they're future rider.

Once a year has passed, the child and its somewhat grown ikran who know are coming into they're colors will learn to fly together as a part of their training. The child with a sky diving wingsuit and the youngling ikran, with jump off a not so high ledge gliding of floating above a somewhat deep lake.

The Iknimaya is quite dangerous, so the Na'vi and humans alike agreed that it will only be carried out when the child has become 18 years of age. To do the Iknimaya they must fly on the back of they're ikrans back and then are left to climb up the flat faced mountain, which is even high than they're home's mountain. They meet their ikran onto of it and then jump sky dive off the mountain with a special wingsuit material made to look like they're ikran, which is made by the parents as a sign of sending them off into adult hood. They will then fly with they're and must land on their back and bond mid flight, strengthening the already growing bond they had when they were little.

The humans planters who run the fields found ways to plant human food, while the doctors and a few scientists found ways to detoxify the pandora meat so they may eat it. Their cook fire has a huge round island like table where the cooks cook the food inside the circle. The cook fire room if big to hold many of the tribe with two stories with pillows on the floor to sit on. Even sweets like cakes and such are on the menu!

The Na'vi and humans also wear clothing like the Omaticaya and Metakiyan but also wear winter clothing using wool from a pandora like sheep that are taller than humans but only come up to a Na'vi's waist.

The Tawsyuram clothing

All the images were made from using Bing AI prompts I made.

(I hope this is an okay request? And not like too much, if the whole neteyam and Aonung thing isn't cool, then I'm fine with you just doing Lo'ak. Thank you for taking the time to read this!

I hope you are having a wonderful morning/evening/afternoon/night! Hun!

Helloooooooooooo darling! Honestly you have such a big imagination and vast ideas here. It took me a good while for this story to be as good as you visioned it to be. Unfortunatly some stuff was cut out but I hope that what stayed is good for you and everyone to read! So sit back and relax! Enjoy!

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Tawsyuram clan

It wasn't easy. Leaving all that you know for somewhere that beyond what you are literally built for. And to look for a clan that is willing to welcome a family that seeks refuge from a way is even harder. There is a lot to gamble on. Child born living only the life of war, and to live a life of peace is very desirable but would be getting used to.

So that is what Jake and Neytiri sully do. Leaving their home for the sake of their children. The question is, where? Where can they go? Who is willing to accept them? While Jake sully had an idea of heading to the islands of the reef na’vi where they are more isolated. He needs a plan B in case the reef clans reject them.

If only by Eywa’s miracle can a open chance appear before him.

“Why not join us?”

A human. With an ikran. A Human riding an Ikran was standing before the sully family. A Human, without a MASK. And very short too. Everyone was staring at the human in unbelievable shock. None uttered a word.

“Hello…..? Is something on my face?” The human asks her ikran who only grunts in response.

“Who are you?” Neytiri was quick to react, her blade ready to strike. The human raised her hands to show she meant no harm and didn't take another step. “Easy, I am not here to bring you harm. My name is Danu”.

“What do you want?” Jake asks/demands.

“It's not what I want, it's more like what you need,” Danu replied.

“And what would that be?” Kiri asks, feeling a slight irk prickling behind her head.

“Protection from the RDA. My clan can help you with that and more” Danu adds.

“What clan would have humans in it?” Neytiri hisses, not liking the young human by the second.

“The Tawsyuram clan” .

The travel towards wherever the girl was leading them to didn't take that long. Only about a day. The family would have gone longer if they still headed towards the reef islands. Instead of going north, the girl led them south. Where neytiri can remember, is just pure open mountains and large bodies of water. No clan inhabits those areas. At least clans neytiri is familiar with.

“We are here!” the girl shouts behind her. The family looks around, but all they see is thick clouds surrounding them. Cant see anything further than 15 feet of range vision. “Where is here?” *Jake asks. The girl didn't answer. The view did.

High above, in the middle of vast floating mountains stood one massive floating island. Large and vast. As they get closer, more details are easy to see. The island has its own mountains, its own clouds! Everyone was in awe.

“Welcome everyone! To Aurora mountain!”

Words cannot even begin to describe the beautiful mountain. Wild ikran flying freely, clouds forming above the mountain peak. Plants grow in so many shades and colors. It was vibrant. And it felt so familiar yet new to the sully family. And as they landed on the ground of the mountain, the gentle breeze welcomed them. Everyone got off of their ikrans and looked all over at the new location.

Danu happily jumped off of her ikran and skipped along. “Come on, there is so much to show you. My mother would love to meet you all” gesturing to follow her.

The family all stuck together, still wary of this place. Unsure of what to think of it. “Ma’jake, what if it's a trap?” Neytiri suspects, holding tuk close to her as the child wanted to follow Danu. Jake reassured her by holding her close, “our ikrans are ready to take flight again, we are armed and ready to fight. We should be fine” he replies.

Kiri and lo’ak on the other hand were admiring the new view and happily followed Danu as they entered the save. The entrance was hidden by massive leaves that can move by a single touch. Inside was a path full of colorful paintings and murals. So many details and no doubt so many stories it holds.

“Come on, don't slow down on me! Everyone is excited to meet you!” Danu’s voice echoed in the cave. Picking up speed, everyone followed Danu, where she stood in an open area, her smile big and bright and arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “Welcome to our home!” she announces proudly.

“Oh my Eywa….”

The inside literally looked like a whole new world. Ikrans flying high above the massive cave, hanging flowers from the cave sides or from smaller floating rocks. Waterfalls everywhere, little creatures flying or running about. And most of all, na’vi and humans were together. Many playing games, farming, chatting, anything they did together. What Jake noticed was that the humans were not wearing masks. And neytiri noticed that there was a mix of pure na’vi and what looks like hybrid na’vi’s like her children. It was a perfect utopia. Perhaps suspiciously too perfect.

As they continue deeper into the village, the locals all stop to look at them, curiosity evident in their eyes. Some children even follow them closely.

“This is so weird…” Lo’ak whispers, kiri was quick to shush him.

“Come, my mom will be super excited to meet all of you!” Danu says, learning them through the village, and through another patch of forest. “I know the village must have overwhelmed you but it was to give you the view of your possible life here. Of course if you choose to stay” Dany informs, moving some plants out of the way without the need to cut them.

“Who is your mother…?” Neytiri asks.

She wasn't given much of an answer as Danu climbed a set of stone stairs leading up to an uphill. The family quickly followed and coming in view was a tree. But not just any tree, a tree so different yet so familiar. With a hue of glowing teal color and Atokirina floating about, this was the people’s spirit tree. However, something else floats alongside the Atokirina. Something neytiri has never seen before.

“MAMAAAAAAAAA~!!” Danu calls out in a happy cheery voice.

At the base of the tree stood a human woman. Long braided hair, the ends with what seem like white stone and beads spreaded around her braids. Her outfit seeming to tell she is of higher status.

The woman looks over at danu and smiles, welcoming the girl in a tight embrace. “Mom! I have brought some new guests! Meet the Sully family!” Danu happily introduces and she points to the family.

The woman looks at the family, and greets them in the na’vi way, with grace and elegance sewn in every movement. “Welcome to our home, it seems like you have traveled a lot. Perhaps some rest is needed before you can ask your question"

They were given a home. Looked like a mix of a marui and a hut if Jake could describe it as best as he could. It was spacious, the kids got to have a private spot each and the pit for a cook fire was in the middle. They got to settle down and gather their thoughts, until jake called in for a family meeting.

“Look, I get this is all new. For you, for us. But it seems they are willing to take us in without even asking. So try to be on your best behavior, all of you. Especially you lo’ak” jake says, looking at his second son. Lo’ak wasnt making eye contact so neteyam grabbed him by the neck making him face his dad.

“Will we really stay here…?” Tuk asks nervously. While it seemed very exciting exploring a new place and meet new people, it was also scary. Jake took a moment and answered, “if they let us baby”. Tuk made a whining noise, frowning “I want to go home!” she whimpers. Close to crying. Neytiri looks at her baby with sadness, “oh tuk…”. Jake holds tuk’s hand to comfort her. “This is most likely to be our home now…and we will make most of it”

“What does your father always say?” Neytiri asks her children…

“I hope you have all settled well. Come, you must all be famished” the woman says with an unusual softness to her voice. The sully family were invited to her home, where danu happily helped in serving the food for the newcomers.

“I'm sorry, but what was your name again…?” Jake asks, wondering of the lady. And the woman lightly taps her head, “oh where are my manners. My name is Mai, the tsahik of the Tawsyuram clan” mai introduces herself.

Neytiri’s tail sways curiously, “tsahik? You? But you are a human” she says.

“Indeed, but soon you will learn neytiri, that this clan, this mountain, is not like what you know” Mai says, giving a playful wink.

Mai gestures to everyone to take a seat as Danu serves everyone their portion. The food looked and smelled delicious, and from long travel, all of a suddenly everyone was starving. Tuk was all too happy to dig in, lo’ak doing the same. Both humming at the welcoming taste on their tongues.

“Hungry I take it?” Mai teases as she takes a bite from her food. Neytiri cautiously takes a bite, her ears perking up liking the taste. It taste familiar yet different at the same time. Kind of tricky to describe the taste. But it had meat and other nutritional pieces of food.

Danu sat next to neteyam, the boy looked over at her, really taking in her appearance.

“You can stare at me all you like, pretty boy, but later, it's meal time” Danu winks at him. Neteyam nervously smiles but looks away, feeling his cheeks heat up in embarrassment. He didn't say anything further and just ate in silence.

After their hearty meal, questions flowed out like an endless river. But everyone asked so many questions at the same time, it was a mumbling mess. So, with a simple gesture of a hand, mai lowers the volume collectively. “One by one, all of your questions will be answered” was all she said.

“Exactly, what is this place…?” Jake asks. A lot has happened in the few hours they have been exposed to something this strange. Even for pandora standards.

“A floating mountain. Well, to be more specific, it is a mountain cut from the northern mountains. It is so big, it created its own ecosystem. I found it many years ago and settled in” mai explained.

“Found it…? How?”

“I was a scientist when the RDA arrived, much like many, I fell in love with this planet. It's precious and pure. I remember crying for seeing something so beautiful, so natural and colorful. To say, it didn't take a whole lot to change my mind. So secretly I planted my own ideas. Quiet literally”

Mai turns to point at the spirit tree.

“That tree? It grew from a single seed that I brought with me from earth. Originally, the seed was of a red oak tree. However, when infused with the pandora soil it grew to something different. Something more beautiful. I see it as something from Eywa, her way of blessing the tree, blessing this mountain. And through this miracle tree, we humans can breathe the same air as the na’vi”

Once the na’vi were mentioned, it was neytiri’s turn to ask, “Why would na’vi come here?”

Mai offered tuk a sweet treat as she continued, “why wouldn't they? After many raids from the RDA, many lands destroyed and their homes gone, where else could they have gone? Yes to another clan, but who is to say that clan won't be targeted next? They are tired of constant loss, so here is their answer”

Jake knew there will be many more questions to ask, so he thought of telling his kids to go out and explore, but mai beat him to it.

“Danu my love, why dont you give the sully kids a proper tour of our home? Make sure they know and learn everything of their new home” mai tells danu. Her daughter nods in glee and leads the kids outside of her home.

“Now, with them being entertained, lets talk about…”

“C’mon, this way!” Danu tells the four kids as they follow her closely. Neteyam being very close, might as well be at equal sides, lo’ak not too far and kiri carrying tuk as to not fall behind. Through the many plants, trees, and small bridges, they return back to the village where everyone was doing something.

Tuk smiles as she gets to see the village life in a longer range. Everyone looked so busy, chatting, moving cattle from one place to another, people in stalls trading some items for others, others cooking and feeding those who are hungry. There is something going on in every corner.

“It looks so……busy” lo’ak says as he observes the people.

Danu lets out a short cackle, “of course! It is always busy here, wither hunting, weaving, trading, there is something going on and there is always something new! Come on, let me show you!”

Once again Danu leads the siblings. Weaving a path through the busy crowd, neteyam follows easily, not losing sight of her noticeable hair. He and his siblings silently say “excuse me” and “I'm sorry” as they catch up to danu. They caught up to her as she stood in front of an older na’vi. Sitting on his seat as he fans the smoke of something he is cooking.

“Welcome danu, are those the newcomers I see?” the kind elder na’vi asks, danu nods eagerly. “Yes, I am showing them around the village and soon the whole mountain!” she answers happily. The sullys introduce themselves one by one. While they chatted, tuk couldn't help but drool as the tasty looking food. The elder na’vi noticed and asks, “Would you like one young tuk?”

Tuk hides her face behind kiri’s arm but shyly nods, the elder na’vi chuckles and hands her the most delicious looking treat. “Here, all yours, it is a fish kabab, but be careful. It is really hot” he says, tuk accepts and gently blows on it before taking a bite. Her big eyes sparkle with delight.

“MMNNNNN~!! Its so yummy!!” she happily praises. The elder na’vi smiled with joy, then he handed a fish kabab to each sully. “Enjoy your treat” he says, everyone happily thanked him and soon they made their way again through the paths.

“Damn, this is good” lo’ak comments as he enjoys the fish kabab. Danu turned to him, “trust me, that kabab is just the start. Our cooks are so talented and know just how to use everything and make a delicious meal!”. As she goes on to explain what each clan member does, of all the siblings, neteyam seems to hear but not 100% listen.

He focuses more on danu’s voice and her personality. Something about her seems to draw him in. Is it her enthusiasm? Her boldness? Her extroverted ways? Neteyam doesn't know himself, but if they really are going to stay, he has time to figure it out.

“Oooooooohhh~!! They look so fluffy!!” Tuk says as she points at cute, sheep looking creatures that are being hurdled by a human farmer. Danu took her time to introduce the kids to many aspects of the mountain, To show them that here, it is safe.

“What are they exactly? I have never seen or heard of them before?” kiri asked curiously.

Danu snickered a bit, her shoulders shaking from trying not to laugh “they are called…..floofers. I am not joking, that is what they called”. Tuk looks back at the cute creatures, three yellow beady eyes on each side, 2 sets of horns curled backwards with six hooved feet and remarkably pure white floof as their fur. However small, they look tough.

“I like it, floofers is an interesting choice of a name” lo’ak comments as he twirls a hanging vine nearby.

“But why that name?” it was neteyam’s turn to ask, danu shrugged. “I'm not sure, my mom named them that. I guess because they are floofy? I really don't know but I like it either way” .

They all admired the different herd animals in the massive farm land, until danu led them somewhere else. But as they keep on exploring, kiri notices that a few here and there are interesting glowing insect like creatures. They remind her of Atokirinas, they fly gracefully in a delicate manner. Close to a butterfly shape, they seem to be a bit see-through, almost as if they are either made of thin glass or thin fabric. The light they produce is beautiful, a gentle white glow. And for some reason they are getting closer to her, and kiri in return getting closer to them.

“So pretty!” tuk notices the pretty looking insects, letting one land on her hand.

“Awe, they like you” Danu coos as the glowing beauties land on kiri, taking interest. “What are they…?” Kiri whispers as to not scare them.

“Tswatuhì” Danu replies slowly, admiring the little display in front of her. “They are like atokirina, little blessings of our great mother. And it seems they have taken you quite well kiri”

The little butterflies then left kiri and landed on tuk, lo’ak and neteyam, giving each of them their own glow. “Oh ma’eywa, truly a lovely blessing” Danu says in awe. Humming a bit, Danu enjoys the scenery.

“Truly, truly you guys are like disney princesses” she comments.

“What's a disney princess?” Tuk asks

“It's a Earth thing”

“Ma’jake…are you certain?” Neytiri asks nervously. They have returned back to their new temporary home after talking with mai. They had a lot to think over. So Jake, rubbing his chin as he sits with his mate by his side.

“You heard what mai said. This place is hidden in the clouds and aware from any RDA areas. It is just…too good. Too good of everything. The mountain, the environment, the people…” he goes on.

Neytiri lingers on the people part. Yes, the people. Human and na’vi and the inbetween. As they made their way back, she noticed many romantic couples that were na’vi and human. If they are going to stay, this is something she has no choice but to tolerate. Yet the irony is there, to run away from humans they now have to live with the humans.

“And our children…?” she asks more. But before Jake could respond, as if on cue, their children returned with baskets full of things and big smiles on their happy faces.

“Mom! Dad! You won't believe what we saw!” Lo'ak said eagerly, tuk light slapped his arm because he beat her to it.

“Look look, this fruit is called a watermelon! And it is so good! Very sweet and we can make all sorts of treats with it!” tuk showed the big green melon to her parents. Jake saw it and couldn't believe his eyes.

“Watermelon…huh, this was long gone back in my time…” he whispers.

“We had fish kebabs and we gotta try to make some! Oh! And some of the locals were kind enough to give us these….”

The kids happily spoke of their little journey through the mountain, the people they met, the foods they tried and the overall culture thanks to their new friend Danu. But as they chatted away, Neytiri and Jake shared a look. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to stay.

As the sun sets below the horizon and darkness covers all sky and land, the mountain and the life inside comes to life. Bioluminescent colors glow in beautiful colors, and like any part of Pandora, the mountain was its own other word once darkness falls.

Nocturnal creatures come out, and the daytime creatures lay in their nests to sleep.

And the Tawsyuram mountain? They thrive.

Like any tribe, the Tawsyuram clan was no different when it came to communal meals. Everyone went to the main center of the village, light hearted laughter, people dancing, singing, enjoying the moot. It was different yet it felt so familiar to the Sully family. The 5 gather together in a huddle like grip, many other locals surrounding them, giving their greetings and offerings to make them feel welcome.

They appreciate it, Jake is neytiri still feel nervous but the kids have gotten more used to the welcoming treatment and more comfortable talking with the other villagers. Even tuk managed to chat with other kids around her age!

“So…I take it you kids like it?” Jake asks his children, they all nodded eagerly. “Do you feel safe here? Welcomed?” Neytiri asks after him.

“As welcoming as they can get mom” lo’ak grins as he presents her a basket full of unfamiliar fruits and flowers. Kiri snatches a mango from the basket and happily munches on it. “What about you neteyam?” neytiri turns to ask her eldest child.

But neteyam didnt respond, not immediately.

In the center of the moot, there was a ring of young teens, many around his and his siblings' age, dancing and enjoying the moment. Among the youth was danu, who was dancing in a very grateful way. The rhythm of the music flowed around her, keeping up with the pace and matching every beat and note. She looked so lovely with the lighting of the fire. Really hypnotizing really.

Until danu’s eyes met his. Her smile widened more and she makes her way over to neteyam, grabbing his arm tugging him forward. “Come on, dance with me” danu invites. Feeling hesitant, neteyam respectfully tries to deny, “oh no, I dont know how” he says. Earning a little giggle from danu, she tugs him harder making him stand, “it is the way” danu said.

She successfully brings him to the center of the moot where he begins to follow her moves and quickly gets the hang of the dance.

Neytiri and Jake look in awe as they are reminded of their night.

“I believe that answers your question” jake whispers as they take in the full warmth and welcome of the Tawsyuram clan.

Okie this one seriously took me a looooooooooong time! There was so much re-writing and adjusting, I feel like despite how much I did, its not enough to truly cover what I envisioned but I did my best to fit everything in. So I hope you all enjoyed this one! Until next time! See ya!

106 notes · View notes

mikareo · 6 months

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⌗ SNOWDROP ₊ ˖ ་. nagi seishiro x fem reader (5.4k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ it's the end of the world and he's possibly the most unprepared person alive…perhaps he can rely on the pretty girl with perfect aim who just so happened to save his life at the very last second. he’s never been in love but maybe this love could last…so long as the both of you stay alive.

contains; resident evil inspired, badass agent!reader, helpless civilian!nagi, zombie apocalypse, guns, knives, blood, gore, swearing, angst, fluffy flirting, love at first sight, major character death, reo cameo!!!!, cannibalism (zombies) author's note; this fic destroyed my sanity, but i hope u like it! there are parts that are so unserious asjkl just trust me that it's a good read and pt2 is gonna be fucking crazy

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀ videogame au milestone collab masterlist !

This can’t be happening. There’s no way this is actually fucking happening right now.

He’s sprinting at full speed, his laces are barely tied, and the smoke in the air is surely clogging his lungs into a blackened pulp of nothingness. To be quite frank, Nagi would rather have those poisoned lungs than discover whatever the hell happened to his neighbors down the hall…because damn they look like they’re in some rough shape. With their sunken eyes, flaking skin, and very obvious urge to suddenly turn to cannibalism, that’s not really his vibe…but that’s a falling telephone pole! Holy shit that’s a falling telephone pole coming straight his way in 3…2…1. JUMP!

Whew, that was a close one. Good thing he’s tall!

The shift in humanity didn’t exactly happen overnight. It was actually just twenty minutes ago when his peace was so rudely interrupted. There he was, snuggled up in his gaming chair with a fresh bag of Cool Ranch Doritos opened and ready to meet his belly, when he finally beat the last level of his new favorite game; only to discover that those screams of terror and fear…yea those weren’t coming from his PC and his living room window is now a pile of ash. Nagi doesn’t think he’s ever seen so much red and yellow in his life, all of it becoming one big blur of flames that he somehow jumped through and landed on the street below— thankfully he lives on the ground floor, otherwise his body would join his couch in a pile of broken limbs. Damn, this is all such a hassle.

No one would be able to guess what it was that caused this chaos…okay, actually it’s not too out of this world; just a commercial jet falling from the sky with a monstrous thing (??) crawling out of the window onto the streets of Tokyo, whilst an oddly green gas dilutes the air.

Yeah, not too crazy— but just crazy enough to make even Nagi Seishiro, laziest man on earth, leave the comfort of his homely apartment to find his neighborhood in complete and utter chaos. He even saw his delivery man devouring the convenience store owner that always gives him an extra bonus off his nightly midnight snack. Man, he loved that guy. That’s a sight that’ll make him shudder for years to come; assuming he can stay alive for the next however many hours and days this newfound apocalypse is going to take.

Nagi thinks it’s been nearly an hour since he started running and he didn’t even know he had this much stamina in him. Maybe he’s secretly a superhuman or another one of the monsters the city has been consumed by— or perhaps his adrenaline rush is nearly infinite since he’s never utilized it in his entire life. He’s not sure of the logistics. He failed high school biology…and chemistry…and physics. There’s a reason why he turned to gaming and shied away from college. This thrill and rush isn’t meant for him. He’s a couch potato that wants to do nothing but rot and enjoy the satisfying ding Twitch gives him whenever he receives a new sub. His generation needs instant gratification…and right now? Well, he’s in desperate need of some water.

Hesitantly, Nagi rounds into the glass doors of the nearest and safest looking building he happens to see— which is luckily a convenience store similar to the one near his apartment. He’s more than surprised when the automatic doors open in a pinch and he’s able to enter with no difficulty. The store is somehow in little disarray, with its grocery items on the shelves in their rightful spots and few sparse bags of chips laying on the tile floor. However, what is in disarray is the pharmacy section. There are drugstore pills scattered everywhere. He can’t even tell what kind of medications were being scavenged in a clear panic for medical amenities, and highly doubts that whoever was searching for supplies was able to get any with the state the back of the store is in. The font on the labels is so small that Nagi, the man who stares at a screen all day, can’t decipher what they say; and he’s assuming that whoever was in here is long dead and gone. But then again…

…he’s never been the kind of guy who’s always right.

“I come in peace!” His voice is two octaves higher than it normally is. If this were a choir audition, he’d absolutely ace it. “I swear I just came for some water! Please don’t kill me, zombie, please!”

Both of his eyes are shut whilst he awaits his inevitable demise, assuming that the unknown presence in the room likely has an appetite for human organs. There were so many things he wanted to do with his life…like ride a hot air balloon? Actually, that would be really hot if he were that close to the sun. Surf in the Caribbean? Ew, he could get bit by a crab. Get a girlfriend? He can’t complain about that one, that would be very very nice.

Oh no, he’s already getting eaten…he can practically hear her imaginary laughter already.

“Really? Those are your last words?”

Zombies can talk?

Nagi fearfully inches one eye open to see the most gorgeous person he thinks he’s seen in his entire life. Sure, you look a little disheveled— with your soaked hair and dirt-crusted skin— but to him, you look like something out of his imagination. The female protagonist that he could only dream about campaigning with in a first-person-shooter game, and would later search for a worthy poster to stick on his wall. If love at first sight is real, then this is definitely it. The only issue? Your barrel is pointing straight at his face.

“You’re going to shoot me?” He exclaims, scrambling to back up but ultimately tripping on his own laces and landing on his ass. “Ah shit, that hurts.”

Elegantly, you rush to his side. “You have injuries?” With eyes scanning over every inch of his body, there’s genuine concern dripping from your tongue like honey. Your voice is like a melody, oh man. Nagi thinks he’s a goner— not because he could be eaten by zombies, but because he feels like he’d jump in front of a moving bus to protect you. Pfft, and some protection he’s doing, embarrassing himself like this…

“Nope, nothing’s hurt…” he mumbles, sitting up with an attempted nonchalant look on his face. “...only my ego.”

A small smile reveals itself before him and your eyes crinkle as you let out a little laugh, and instantly he’s almost more obsessed with you. It’s as if you’re some higher being that he was blessed to see on his final day on earth, with golden rays radiating from your skin and big irises that he could drown in. Perhaps if it weren’t the end of the world, the two of you could’ve walked to this store together— holding hands and speaking softly about your shared interests and passions— and he could make you laugh a million times and more…now that he’s really thinking about it, you’re the first girl he’s made laugh probably ever and he really wishes there wasn’t a menacing zombie apocalypse getting in the way of his beautiful fantasy.

“I’m assuming you’re alone?” You stand up, looking down at him.

Alone as in single or…

“You don’t have any family that you escaped with?”

…okay not alone as in single. Got it.

“It’s just me,” Nagi stands to his feet and is loving your shocked reaction to his towering height. “My family’s overseas right now, so I think they’re alright. I mean, I hope they’re alright. I don’t have any service to reach them, right now. My phone is down.”

You nod, reaching in your bag for something he can’t quite see. What he can see, though, is the massive shotgun strapped to your back and three large cartridges hanging from your belt— somehow you’re able to carry all that and four grenades, two handguns, and six rolls of bandages in that pack of yours, which you lay out for him so lovingly on the floor.

“Take what you need.” Oh hell, what has he gotten himself into?

As he backs up cautiously, realization dawns upon your face. “You’ve never done this before have you?”

“Is living through a zombie apocalypse a common experience?” His mouth is agape. “Yeah, sorry…can’t say this isn’t the first time for me.”

A sigh slips from your lips and you gather your things, packing everything into your bag except for a standard handgun. Nagi can feel his heartbeat picking up as you take three steps closer to him. One. Two. Three. He wishes you’d chosen to take a fourth— that way you’d be nose to nose, he’d get to see your beauty up close, and then memorize the curves and features of your face— which he’d surely never forget as he’d think about them morning, night, and day. He’d love to fantasize about you for hours but you have other plans, dropping said standard handgun into his palms.

“Just aim for the head, okay?”

Um. No. Not okay.

“I don’t really shoot real guns…” he rambles, attempting to get rid of the deadly weapon you’ve so casually given him. “I’m more of a lover, y’know? Talk things out instead of shooting things in between their eyes? I like digital zombies! Yeah, those guys are chill…love ‘em so much…please take this away from me.”

You shake your head, already on your way out of the door. “Nope, you’re coming with me.”

“Why?” If this were a video game, there’d be a massive exclamation point flashing above his head, along with a grave that he could crawl into instead of joining you on this suicide mission. Being six feet under sounds pretty nice right about now…but he’s sure that the look you’re giving him is more deadly than any threat outside. “I don’t think I’m going to be much help to you.”

“Nagi, is it?” You clarify, to which he nods. “There are only two choices right now, and I know we just met but I’d rather you live than die. You’re tall. Your height is going to give you a range advantage when we’re out there, and I can already tell that you have great spatial awareness…not many people would’ve noticed me in the shadows. You know this area far better than I do, and sure, you’ve never held a gun before, but you’ve got to fight to live.”

As your voice continues in a soft-spoken tone, he’s mesmerized. “I want you to live, and I’m going to make sure you do.”

He can feel himself nodding along to your words— his heart getting lighter by the second, perhaps out of adrenaline but he’s going to believe it’s love. He needs something to look forward to when this is all over, if this is ever over, and that something is the image of you and him on a date. With you looking stunning in your favorite outfit and him hopefully looking better than he does right now…clear skies with the cicadas shushing themselves so he doesn’t miss a single thing you say…enough money in his bank account to cover anything and everything you wish for…and the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers that he can find. What are your favorite flowers?

“Can I ask you something before I say yes?” Nagi’s voice is sweet, seemingly comforting you as your shoulders drop from their automated offensive stance. You look a little curious, likely assuming that he’s going to ask you some tips on how to shoot a gun— which he probably should if he’s being honest with himself, but that’s an issue that isn’t as important as his current curiosity. “Do you have a favorite flower?”

With teeth shining at him, he’s blinded by the overwhelming beauty you send his way and for the second time, he makes you laugh.

“My favorite flower? You’re so strange.” Overcome with a fit of giggles, he thinks that this is your first time laughing at something a man said as well. “Why do you need to know that? Are you asking me out or something?”

“I am.” He states bluntly and your cheeks flush red.

There’s a minute of silence between the two of you and each second is more excruciating than the last. With a heavy clock ticking in his ear, telling him that he’s made a fool of himself as the hand inches more and more to the left; he’s counting down his probable rejection as he’s just shot his shot in the middle of the end of the world. What a stupid decision. He knows his timing could be better— could be a lot better actually— and there’s a part of him that regrets even attempting…but none of that matters, because you’re smiling.

Maybe he makes you just as nervous as you make him…

“Okay Nagi,” you grin and adjust the shotgun strap across your chest. “If we both survive this, I promise I’ll go out with you…but I have some high expectations. I want the most expensive flower arrangement money can buy.”

“And what kind of flowers are you wishing for, gorgeous?” His voice is a sexy whisper, and Nagi didn’t even know he could be so seductive.

You jokingly roll your eyes at the pet name and toss him one of your inactive grenades, which he catches with ease, urging him to follow you into the chaos— but not before you give him the answer he so desperately desires.

“Snowdrops.”

There are two things that Nagi has realized in the past thirty minutes.

1.) He’s a lot more athletic than he thought he was.

Running for a half an hour straight is something that he never imagined himself doing— especially considering that he’s never stepped one foot into a gym in his entire life. What he originally thought to be clumsiness, turns out to be raw strength untouched. You were right to assume that his lengthy limbs would do him some justice in the fight for his life, and he’s thankful for his towering height as he’s blocked falling debris from smacking you atop the head nearly five times now; though, he did miss a flying sneaker that happened to nail you straight in the nose. He’s trying his best, give him a break.

2.) You might be a figment of his imagination.

Sure, this idea is likely false as he definitely felt your weight when you were sent flying from a stray hand grenade and landed on top of him, but you just seem so perfect. Getting to know you has been a dream come to life— though making conversation while running for his life isn’t the easiest feat, he’s managing. Some of the things you’ve told him do seem to be made up, though. For instance, you were the culprit behind the plane crash and while he’d love to picture a sunsetting sky with the two of you floating in the breeze, you’re not going to be piloting that jet. However, he has to give you a break because he’s never flown anything other than pixelated aircrafts, especially aircrafts that contain a deadly monster oozing toxic gas that turns people into zombies. Yeah, he couldn’t quite believe that either.

“On your left!” The sound of your voice snaps him back into focus and he realizes there are four zombified citizens barreling your way. “I could use some help here!”

You definitely don’t need his help. For God’s sake you have a shotgun the size of your leg that’s already mowed down three of them and Nagi’s just barely getting used to the sound of the bang. So far he’s pretty much been useless if not for letting you know what’s coming up in the distance, and also being the absolute last resort solution— which is rare, but oh shit it’s happening right now! You’re out of shells! How exactly does he fire this thing again?

Shakily, he attempts to point his handgun in the direction of the lone zombie bounding towards you. “Deep breaths, Nagi! Focus and aim!” Your words of encouragement are appreciated, but ultimately useless as he desperately starts stray shooting.

“Fucking aim!” You’re losing your patience for him so fast, to which he tries his best to calm down and breathe.

In and out.

His heart rate begins to slow.

Breathe and concentrate.

His eyes become unclouded by his anxiety, and his vision clears.

Lock on.

He has a mark on the target.

With his pistol’s aim assist shining against the zombie’s forehead, he confidently fires a single bullet. It soars through the air, squealing in its flight, and he lets out a sigh of relief…a sigh that he exhaled far too early.

Aw shit, he missed.

You grunt, bracing yourself against his bullet that ricochets off of the nearby telephone pole and grazes your right arm. He has a clear view of the scarlet blood dripping down your elbow and onto the pavement, and his heart feels heavy. He’s so fucking useless that he’s injuring you. Nagi doesn’t think it’s even possible to be worse at flirting than him; he can’t imagine that there are many guys who are accidentally shooting the girl they like, yet here he is.

Thankfully, you being the badass agent you are, you’ve managed to reload your eleven shells of ammo in the time it took for him to fire one bullet— and you easily dissolve the zombie to bits and pieces.

“Your aim can use a little work.” You snort, brushing your fingers against the small wound.

He rips the sleeve of his t-shirt off and attempts to wrap it around your arm. This is what you’re supposed to do, right? The only training he’s had in the medical field is from that one surgeon simulator game he played in middle school, and to be completely honest, it was a pretty good game! However, he’s definitely doing something wrong because you place your hand over his and show him how to properly treat an open wound. Normally, Nagi would be embarrassed that he’s failing so miserably right now— but honestly, the only thing on his mind is how this is the first time you’ve held his hand. He can’t tell if there are butterflies in his stomach or if the smell of blood is triggering vomit. Hopefully the former.

It’s no surprise that your perceptive self notices his focus on your intertwined hands, to which you take the lead and insist on pushing forward. “As romantic as this is, we should find some shelter before we get eaten in the midst of making out.”

Oh?

“You want to make out with me?”

Oof that slap hurt. His priorities clearly don’t align with yours.

“Okay, okay.” Nagi holds his hands up in surrender before you can smack his chest for a second time, and he’s finally able to notice your surroundings. Since when was the Mikage Buildingright behind you? Hm…the imminent fear of death must have distracted him. “My best friend’s family owns this tower here. I promise it’s safe.”

Your gaze narrows at the wall of glass windows that are seemingly spotless. There isn’t a single crack, faulty line, or zombie-sized hole that’s visible to the naked eye and he feels a little swell of pride for Reo’s family. Yeah, that’s right! My best friend’s parent’s architects are great at making buildings! It finally seems like he’s had his first good idea of the night, and Nagi couldn’t be more proud. Progress is progress (even if he shot you in the process)!

“It looks good.” You nod in approval and begin cautiously making your way towards the doors.

While following closely behind, he watches your back and ensures that there’s no one on your trail; which isn’t difficult in the slightest. Most of the civilians have died by now and you’ve already cleared every undead in the area…without his help. He doesn’t know how he managed to be so lucky that he ended up with you, but he’s grateful for every second— and now that you’re finally in his familiar territory, he can finally show you what he’s worth.

“There’s an elevator up these steps.” Nagi leads you up the grand staircase, remembering how he lazily trotted down it yesterday after Reo tried, once again, to convince him to join his football club. “I think it’ll work, I know they have emergency systems and everything.”

“I don’t know, Nagi…” your voice trails off, something amiss about it. “I just have a weird feeling about this place.”

“I promise Reo’s family’s going to take care of us, they’re the best.” He deflects your concerns, trusting that his friend will pull through and have some crazy solution to save the world. There’s never been a time where he couldn't count on Reo and as soon as you reach the top of these steps, you’ll agree. The text he sent out asking for help is almost delivered, just a few more seconds and that blue line will slide all the way to the right and Reo will be right down the elevator as soon as possible. 3…2…1…sent! There! You’ll both be saved!

But if Reo’s on the top floor in his room…why did his ringtone ding just meters away?

There’s a corpse laying in front of the elevator doors, mangled and bruised. How did Nagi not notice it before? Was he too distracted thinking of his closest and only friend he’s ever had? No way. The security team must have destroyed all of the zombies in the building already, he’s sure Reo and the others are fine— but why does that body look so familiar?

No.

It can’t be him.

Three steps away.

There’s got to be some kind of mistake here. A prank right?

Two steps away.

He can’t be dead. His best friend can’t be dead!

One.

“No…” With his voice trembling, he stands over his best friend’s body. Reo’s violet hair is drenched in blood, seemingly resembling the color of a plum rather than the typical lavender hue. If it were a normal day, Nagi would laugh at the awful color— telling his partner in crime that the shade didn’t suit him in the slightest and Reo would laugh in annoyance, aiming a ball straight for the taller boy’s head…but this isn’t a normal day. This is the end of the world; and that beautiful lavender flower that Nagi associated with his teammate is wilting. It’s dying. It’s dead along with the heartbeat within it. Reo is dead.

“Nagi. I need you to step back slowly.” He spins to see you with your barrel aimed at Reo’s corpse, but he can’t seem to move. It’s almost as if he’s been stunned, frozen in place with frostbite cementing his legs to the granite floors, and mouth encased in ice. He’s so overwhelmed that he can’t even open his mouth to give you a warning that there’s something moving behind you. Why can’t he speak? He needs to tell you! However, right when his teeth quiet their jitter, you’re tackled to the ground with a loud pummel.

Immediately, gunshots ring out in the grand hall. You’re firing in every direction in an attempt to blast off your opponent, but this zombie is particularly agile and you don’t have much room to move with your large shotgun…looking back in retrospect, giving Nagi your only handgun wasn’t the greatest idea.

“C’mon!” Repeatedly, you call out to him, but he remains paralyzed in fear. “Stop being useless!”

He watches as you struggle to wrestle off the infected woman, grunting and groaning with every punch you deal to its face. The skin on her cheeks is almost a greyish shade, discolored and decaying with a potent smell that burns his nostrils. It’s hard to tell who’s who under the blanket of shadows she’s trapped you under, but occasionally he catches a glimpse of golden eyes that tell him the zombie is still alive.

Somehow, with your almost supernatural raw strength, you’re able to hook your thighs around the zombie’s neck— pinning it down to the pearly floors and trapping it beneath your weight. It claws and cries out, desperately trying to escape your grasp, and Nagi almost feels bad for it. Just a few hours ago, this woman had a life. A real life that she likely looked forward to living every day; and now she’s nothing but a brainless carnivore with cannibalistic intentions. She could’ve been a mother. There could be a little boy out there missing her and waiting for her to come home, tell him that he’s safe, and that everything is going to be alright. When was the last time Nagi talked to his own mother? Why does he deserve to live and this woman doesn’t? Why is he so special that he was saved, while the rest of Tokyo was left to rot?

It isn’t fair.

None of it is fair.

He doesn’t deserve to live. He doesn’t deserve to be here.

He’s taken his life for granted from the moment he learned to walk. Why should you be wasting your time trying to get him to safety when he’s nothing more than absolutely useless? He needs to help.

He needs to be brave…

…but he misses his chance once more.

Letting out a wailing scream, you muster up enough energy to crush the woman’s head between your thighs, and Nagi is splattered with blood and guts. He doesn’t know how you’re so strong— it’s almost eerie in a way— but he’s more concerned with the state of your well-being. The look of exhaustion in your eyes acts as a glaring sun against his icy posture, and his feet are thawed from the floor, rushing towards you in mere seconds.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kneels on the ground before you and cups your face closely, “Hey— hey, don’t close your eyes. I’m right here. Please stay awake.” Nagi doesn’t think his voice has ever been so gentle nor has he ever felt this kind of worry for a girl before. Sure, he hasn’t known you for long, but he knows he can’t go on without you. You’re a team and a team sticks together. You can’t die right here! He’s not going to allow that!— but before he can lift you up like the knight in shining armour he wishes he could be, there’s a faint rustling behind him…a familiar rustling. Nagi knows that sound. He knows those movements. He’s heard them a million times and he’d be able to recognize them even in the midst of Shibuya Crossing in the busy hours.

Where did Reo’s body go?

Perhaps it dissolved or maybe it was kicked aside in the midst of your fight.

That has to be it, right? Where else could he be?

Nagi’s confusion is understandable. He’s thinking rationally given the circumstances and his heartbeat is somewhat steady. The mass of his body hovers over yours in a protective stance, like a dragon guarding a princess, and for once he appears to be confident. However, that confidence has been set aflame. He can feel his blood racing, burning through his veins in fear and distress, and he wishes he could simply rip his vitals from his skin to destroy the wretched emotions. The sight before him is something out of a horror movie…a horror movie where Nagi is the main character.

“Oh fuck.”

Reo leaps out of the shadows before Nagi can even react.

There’s a blur of hands and feet, hitting and kicking at each other, and the snow haired boy never knew he was this agile. Reo is clearly doing his best to hit Nagi’s vital arteries; to which he’s blocking each attack with his forearms. This is chaos. He doesn't even have a second to think for himself and consider the possibility of blasting Reo’s head off with his handgun. He can’t do that…this is his best friend!

As Nagi’s leg lines up to knock him off his feet, Reo lunges down and grabs a hold of it. In a panic, he attempts to shake his friend off— wiggling his leg up and down whilst reaching for his combat knife in his back pocket— and slices the skin in between Reo’s forearm and bicep…which is ultimately ineffective. Oh, shit he just got angrier! Growling, zombie-fied Reo clasps his hands around Nagi’s waist, lifting him off the ground with ease and throwing him into the elevator doors. The sound of his body slamming against the metal slab rings out, echoing in the grand foyer and deafening Nagi’s left ear. His breathing is heavy and he feels like he can’t get a single ounce of air in his lungs. Everything seems to be blurry, foggy with mist covering his irises as he attempts to see what’s right in front of him.

A carnivorous Reo…

…and an unconscious you.

It’s clear to him what’s going on. There are two outcomes to this horrific situation and whatever decision Nagi makes is going to impact the rest of his life.

1.) Let you go and join the afterlife with his best friend.

2.) Save you and never see his best friend again.

His heart is at war within himself. One side fighting for Reo, the boy he’s known for so long. The boy he’s laughed and cried with. The boy who knows everything about him. The boy who believed in him when no one else did…until you came along.

Just the thought of seeing your lifeless eyes, bloodied body, and severed limbs flips a switch inside him— and Nagi finally comes to realize what’s happening. This isn’t Reo. This shell of a man with a monstrous hunger isn’t his best friend. Reo is a ghost now. He doesn’t exist anymore and now his body is being possessed by the undead, or whatever zombies are. He can miss his friend all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that the thing creeping towards you is nothing but a stranger who knows all of Nagi’s secrets.

It’s time for him to fight to live.

As he swiftly stands and tackles Reo to the floor, a wave of memories flash before Nagi’s eyes.

The moment he first heard Reo’s voice. It was light and friendly. He had used a tone that Nagi hadn’t ever heard before, and although he had no interest in playing soccer, he still wanted to impress the popular boy— not because he wanted a higher status or a girlfriend, but because he knew this stranger needed a friend…and he really needed a friend, too.

His palms grip Reo’s throat, ripping him off of your body.

The first time Reo laughed at something he said. It wasn’t intended to be funny, but the plum-haired boy couldn’t help but burst into a fit of giggles and Nagi found himself laughing as well. Sitting in the school courtyard, side-by-side with crumbling onigiri falling from their mouths, there’s no doubt that they looked like two elementary schoolers finding humor in something obscurely immature— but despite that, it’s one of his fondest memories.

Reo struggles against Nagi’s weight, pinned to the floor with nowhere to run.

When he’d first shown him his concerningly large collection of video games, Reo hadn’t batted an eye. In fact, the very next day, Nagi received a friend request from him. Which seemed like a small act at the time, until he found out that Reo had gone to the tech store and purchased an entire PC set up just so he could be the Player 2 to Nagi’s Player 1. They were partners in both the real and virtual world— an unstoppable pair that won more tournaments as time went on— and Nagi will never clean out his xbox inventory filled with their trophies.

His finger grazes the trigger.

This is it.

No more memories.

It’s time to say goodbye.

In movies, when the protagonist has to kill their loved one, a single tear rolls down their cheek.

For Nagi, his face drowns in his cries.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s gone.

“I love you.”

Reo’s body dissolves into ash…

…then dust…

…then nothing.