#the entire time i’ve been working on this i’ve Wished i could write because i have so many opinions (not gonna get into it though) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makoodles · 9 months

Text

ミ the mightiest

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader

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

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

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

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

Okay, so you can’t really explain it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s nosey.” You correct.

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

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

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

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

That is not Lo’ak’s voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Excuse me?”

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

You gape at him, stunned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” You croak, blinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” You breathe stupidly. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And damn, you can’t turn him down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And luckily he does, his smile only growing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So big,” You gasp. “I-I want—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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yxami · 10 months

Text

Bored so that means I write a delusional yandere

description: yandere x gender neutral reader, kidnapper reader, yandere victim, reader kidnaps a rich guy but he turns out to be a yandere, just a stupid idea I thought of

He felt a smooth fabric slip away from covering his eyes any longer, he quietly winced at the new setting. As his eyes adjusted to the poor basement lighting they focused to scan your figure staring down at him.

He shamelessly blushed at the sight of you, no mask, no cover up, just you in some casual pajamas as if you didn’t have him tied up in your basement. You looked so pretty..

“You must be my kidnapper!! Oh my god, I can’t believe this day actually happened! I mean I thought of these fantasies of someone beautiful like you kidnapping me but now that it’s happening I can’t help but feel shy!” He rambled, pressing his thighs together anxiously. The blush on his face almost seemed inappropriate in this situation.

Especially in this situation.

You had kidnapped this rich guy around the same age as you for ransom because you knew his parents were loaded. Instead of his heart pounding with fear and adrenaline, it seemed like it was pounding for an entirely different reason.

“What are you— .. what?” You stammered, genuinely confused on what he was blabbering about. Fantasies? Beautiful? Shy? Huh??

“I don’t mind if you don’t want to confess right away! I get it! I’m pretty nervous myself right now too.. but I’m really happy you decided to kidnap me! I’ve been waiting for so long” He giggled, happiness shining bright in this poorly lit room.

His toothy grin didn’t even falter when he looked down at his restraints, you swore you even saw it widen at the view.

“You even tied me up in rope! How did you know I would love to be tied up like this? Have you been looking at my diary?” He wished he could cover the flustered look on his face but all he could do was squirm in his chair. Mostly out of embarrassment from imagining you scanning at all his fantasies being written down.

“It’s okay if you did! I’m just a little surprised you took in this much effort to keep me happy” His chuckle only made you want to ask more questions than before.

“What are you talking about?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion while you stared down at the man you had tied up in a chair. A regular wooden chair that could fall over so you added stoppers to the bottom so it was harder to knock over.

“You kidnapping me! I’m so happy someone like you has a crush on me! I’ve always thought of being in this situation..” He mumbled his last sentence with darker blush on his face as he looked up at you with his big doe eyes.

“I don’t have a crush on you! I’m kidnapping you for ransom, cause your parents are loaded” You finally realized what he was talking about, he thought you kidnapped him because you loved him!

“Pff, it’s okay! I totally get what you mean” He winked, a bright smile on his face with blush dusting his face, less intense than before.

You could tell he didn’t believe you and that wink just confirmed he genuinely thought you loved him. Maybe if you pretended you did then it would work out well? He seemed to be some pervert but it’s not like he was hideous.

He was actually very pretty, a little too pretty. Was this guy a model? Oh god, you hoped he wasn’t a model because that would grab the attention of a lot of people and an army equipped with pitchforks would be at your door.

“When you stare at me like that.. I can’t help but get nervous” He looked away, looking embarrassed at how you were practically checking him out with no concern that he would catch you running your eyes up and down against his body.

You weren’t checking him out! Well maybe a little but not the whole time!

“Sorry, I was thinking about something” You gently waved, smacking the invisible worries away and trying to think of something else. “Nobody’s gonna be looking for you, right? I mean other than your parents”

“Who else would be looking for me?” He titled his head in confusion, staring at you again.

“I dunno, fans? You’re not a model right?” You tense up waiting for the answer, hoping he wasn’t some idol that would cause multiple mobs of angry fans.

“You’re so nice” He giggled, his eyes closing with a bright smile at your compliment that you weren’t even aware about. “No, I’m not a model. You won’t have to worry about weird fans or anything” He whispered his last few words, scanning at how beautiful you looked worried.

He only wished it was a concerning thought about losing him and not about getting caught.

“That’s good” You sighed with relief, not knowing you were even holding a sigh in anticipation. “I’m glad, um.. do you want anything to eat? You were knocked out for a few hours so..” You awkwardly asked, still a little nervous for some unknown reason.

“Sure! I’ll eat anything you make!” He gratefully accepted your offer, sounding more like a thankful roommate rather than a victim of kidnapping. “Alright, I’ll get on that” You went upstairs, starting to prepare something that you thought he’d like.

There was a lot of strange things about him, but maybe he wasn’t so bad to have around.. for now?

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fatuismooches · 1 year

Note

i don't know if this is how i request so i apologise if i get anything wrong!

could you please do the childhood crush with capitano but instead of capitano, it's pantalone? it's okay if you don't wish to do this!

(p.s. this is my first time requesting, pls go easy on me)

♡ 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ♡

synopsis: When you were a child, you decided to befriend an orphan who always seemed to be by himself. He would not forget this act of kindness.

includes: pantalone w/ gn! reader

notes: Of course, this was quite fun to write! I hope you all enjoy it. (It gets very fluffy towards the end <3.)

Sneznhaya was one of the worst nations to be poor in, you decided from an early age. You had to have some kind of thick jacket to survive even the warmest days (which was still borderline in the negatives) otherwise you would die so quickly from frostbite. You had to have some kind of fireplace in your house and also a stable firewood source otherwise you’d freeze to death too. You had to be smart about preserving and salting your food because of the cold, and much more difficult tasks that would be easy to do in other nations. All of these factors were part of the reason why orphans did not last very long, unfortunately (unless you were pulled into the House of Hearth… would that be a blessing or curse?)

Even though you were dirt poor, you were still more fortunate than a lot of people in poverty. You had a house, albeit a small one. You had a bed, though it felt like a stone-cold rock most of the time. You had parents who cherished you, although sometimes you did not see them for the whole day since they worked hard so you could go to school instead, even though you should have been working to bring income in. Of course, you kept all of your complaints to yourself. You were far better off than most kids.

The first time you met the boy was on your way home from school. You had exited the raggedy building when you came across a boy with rather well-kept hair. Usually, the children around the slums were untidy and uncaring about their appearance. Yet his looked fine, at least better than average around here. But what drew you in was his brilliant purple eyes. You had never met anyone with that eye color. You didn’t realize you were staring at him until you noticed his eyes were on you. Your words died in your throat of embarrassment, so you quickly nodded your head at him and speedily walked away.

You hoped that you wouldn’t see the boy again, because you didn’t think you’d be able to look him in the eye again. You were the kind of person who cringed at even the slightest dumb thing you did a long time ago and knocked your head against the wall thinking about it. But, it seemed that the Tsaritsa did not answer your prayers because you saw the same boy again the next day. And the next day. And for the entire week. And soon, you realized that his eyes were always trained in the same direction - the school. You connected the dots quickly, mentally prepared yourself for conversation, and strode up to him.

The boy immediately noticed you as you pressed your back against the wall, leaving a bit of distance between the two of you. You didn’t want to invade his personal space.

“So, I’ve seen you here every day. How come?”

Silence.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

Silence.

“You want to go to school, don’t you?”

“...!”

The boy’s breath hitched for a second and you knew you were right. He turned his gaze from you and looked back at the building, where children were being dismissed. You didn’t need to ask why. It was obvious that he had to work instead to survive. The two of you stood in silence when, all of a sudden, you came up with a genius idea.

“How about I teach you instead?”

The offer had the boy’s neck snapping back to you. “What?”

“Yeah! After school ends, you can come to my house, and I’ll teach you what I learn, and other stuff too. It’ll be like real school, minus the yelling and the crowds and the other annoying things!” The idea seemed better and better the more you spoke.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise but a look of caution quickly overtook his face, purple eyes conveying a look of distrust. “What do you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“What’s your motive? Surely you don’t think I’m that naive to believe you.”

You were taken aback. “I-I mean… I don’t really know what to say. I’m just a kid, I don’t really know what ulterior motive I would have. Does wanting to become friends with you count as one? You really look like you want to learn, so I just wanna help you,” you said plainly with a hint of confusion in your voice.

For the second time that day, the boy was taken aback, because he could see that you were being genuine and he couldn’t understand why. You were being kind from the bottom of your heart, and he couldn’t comprehend why you would do this for a stranger.

You tried to ignore the piercing look the boy who was only your age managed to give you. “So can I assume you’re taking the offer? I’m [Name] by the way!”

The boy uttered his real name, and everything began from there.

Every day you invited your newfound friend into your house. Your parents were never home until late, so it was easy to do so. And so began the lessons of you teaching him everything you knew and learned in school. You taught him how to curve the letters of the alphabet correctly. You helped him to learn to read your favorite children’s books. You told him what you remembered of your teacher’s boring rambling about Snezhnaya’s history and that hey, oxygen came from trees! (He knew that, the boy said. He wasn’t that dumb. You pouted.) But the thing he was best at was math. As soon as you taught him the basics, he was speeding through the questions faster than you.

You watched in amazement as he whizzed through the questions without even needing to use his fingers to add (which you still did sometimes, embarrassingly enough.) He was completely focused on it, writing his answers in handwriting that got better every passing day. And soon enough, he handed you his answers to check. It started to become less of a surprise when he got all of them right on his first try, as you compared his work with the one from your homework.

“You got all of them right again!” you cheered as you shook his shoulders in excitement. “Haha, you’re better than me at this point. I can’t do mental math as well as you can.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.” If there was one thing you knew about your friend, was that he was a good sweet talker. You’d seen him talk his way out of situations that you would surely die in, and also compliment you like it was nothing.

“At this point, you can become an economics! No, wait… I think it’s called an economist? Or an accountant? Something to do with numbers and counting!”

Something twinkled in his eyes. “Do you really think that?”

“Mhm! You’re the smartest person I know. You adapt to everything so quickly. It took me a long time to get these concepts down yet you did it easily.”

The boy did not say anything but his shoulders relaxed under your touch, and then he spoke. “I’m going to become rich.”

“You are?” you asked, hopping onto the chair next to him. Everyone, regardless of anything, has dreamed of becoming rich. But the way he said it with such firmness had you drawn in.

“Money is the lifeblood of this world. No one can survive without it,” the hardened and steely look in his eyes and voice made you stiffen for a second. “Even the Gods desire to let it flow between their fingers.”

You looked at him for a few seconds before grabbing his cold hand and squeezing it. “I believe in you,” you declared resolutely. Your friend’s harsh look dissipated and a smile came onto his face. You loved it when he smiled. “Just remember me when you’re rich. Share a bit with me, hm?” you laughed.

But the boy did not laugh at what you meant to be a joke. “I will,” he said firmly. “I’ll give you as much as you want and more.”

Since then, you spent more and more time with him, even outside the regular tutoring sessions. Once you had opened yourself up to him, he had responded somewhat in kind. He liked to talk about things he read in the paper after you taught him to read. Out on the streets, he would ask you about words he saw on shop windows’ he didn’t know yet. Your favorite activity was when you’d give him something to read out loud to you, enjoying how his stumbling grew from frequent to occasional. But when it came to other topics he kept his mouth thin and shut. You never commented on it, but you could see he didn’t have a good relationship with anyone else. It seemed that he held some kind of animosity toward a good chunk of people. Especially the upper class, even some of the kids as you noticed that some of them weren’t very nice to him. Even the Gods themselves weren’t spared from this.

You didn’t know what kind of childhood he had, and you didn’t pry. It wasn’t your business, and furthermore, you wanted him to remember the happier memories he made with you instead. You showed him how to build snowmen and snow angels. You once threw a snowball at his hair and immediately regretted it as he launched a tickle attack back at you. The orphan was your best friend and you soon realized that you had a crush on him. You would lie in bed, rolling over as you thought about the kind of wedding you’d have him with. You would have kids and then the two of you would soon be grandparents and then the house would be so much more lively and fun and- you smushed your face between your pillow. Enough of that! You first had to make sure both of you survived this hellish place to even make it to adulthood.

It got to the point where you wanted to share some of your meager rations with him too. He was always hungry, and you were too but you wanted to help him out as much as you could. You would sneak a good portion of your bread or anything that wasn’t messy under the kitchen table, slip it into your sleeve quickly so your parents didn’t know. You gobbled down your sparse dinner in seconds, not wanting to leave your friend standing outside in one spot for too long. You went into your room and quickly locked the door, glancing at the window near your bed. You pulled the curtains to the side, and there he was! Opening your window always warranted a flurry of snow flying into your face but seeing his face light up was worth it.

Years passed, and the two of you were older, almost adults. You had left school since the only available schooling in the area was for younger kids only, and now worked in a miserable job like most people. But you always made sure to try and visit your long-time friend, who seemed to be busier and busier these days. You had a feeling he was up to something, whether it was good or bad, legal or illegal, but you didn’t pry. His absence had begun to cause you to seek out other company, for it was not good for one to be left alone in their thoughts in this kind of situation.

Who was your company? The neighborhood kids, of course. They reminded you of when you were younger, even though it was just a few years ago. They always gathered around you when they had time off from their barely paid labor, and you made sure to teach them the same things you taught your crush a few years ago. But you soon learned, it was rather hard to do that when they were so exhausted from working. Tiny hands were already calloused from the back-backing jobs and they were asleep in an instant afterward.

So you did what you could. Having a couple of hours of rest made a big difference to growing bodies, you reminded the kids. You took their shifts on different days and at different times, making sure you wore as many layers as possible so you wouldn’t be caught. The employers wouldn’t take much notice anyway. They didn’t care who did it as long as the work was done. The only thing you did not anticipate was your long-time crush finding you.

“[Name]?” The callout of your name made your heart freeze. “Don’t worry, it’s just me.” You then recognized the voice as your childhood friend. Turning around, you pulled down the hood and uttered your friend’s name, which you cherished dearly.

“I was looking for you, and I find you here, working in someone else’s place. What are you doing?” The boy’s voice was hushed, laced with a hint of something else underneath. Worry. Concern. Distress. What if you get sick? Get hurt? Get caught?

“Look… I did not mean to worry you. I just, it hurts me to see the little ones spending so much time working. I just want to help them.”

The boy had known you for many years, yet neither his mind could ever comprehend why you were so kind to others. It never benefitted you, only served as extra weight and a burden on your shoulders. “But you already have long shifts to work. Your body can’t handle this…”

“Hey, who was the one who managed to run away with you all those times? I’m pretty strong! Furthermore, as long as I keep the hoodie up, they won’t recognize the difference. Those people don’t care as long as the work gets done. They’re just little kids, you know. Just like we were. Some of them haven’t even learned proper Snezhnayan yet, but they’re out here slaving away and working to the point of exhaustion. I just… can’t. If I can help them keep even a fraction of a childhood intact, I will.”

The boy’s heart was moved by your kindness innumerable times. “But, aren’t you just a kid as well?”

“I am,” you agreed. “But I’m still an older one. Just a bit more until we’re adults, you know. I’ve already had my time. I’d rather help the others now. Besides, it builds stamina and work ethic,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

Your friend didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could really say, after all. This was just how life was like. But it was days like these where he remembered the promise he made to himself and you - neither of you would have to deal with this ever again, soon.

The boy moved to help you, which surprised you. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m sure you’re busy with other things.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been wanting to spend time with you for a while. I’ve missed you.” You blushed and nervously laughed at his straightforwardness. He could either pretend to be oblivious to your intentions, trying to make you say what you wanted out loud. Or just be so blunt that it caught you off guard.

“Heh, I’ve missed you too. You know, I have a good story for you…”

Since then, your friend had popped up more and more frequently, making your lovesick heart pound. Even if you had nothing left to talk about, you made something up, if only to keep him next to you for a few more minutes. You think he knew what you were doing, but he didn’t comment. You loved him for not exposing you like that. Despite the circumstances of your life not being very great, you always felt great around him. Until one day, you woke up with a splitting headache. Odd, but not unbelievable. You must have pushed yourself too hard yesterday. Your body feels so, so cold, but you have to go… have to go to work, and see your friend. You inched yourself to the edge of the bed, but you did not make it to the end.

You woke up to the hazy sight of your parents and a man. Presumably a doctor, considering how awful you feel right now and his white lab coat.

“It seems your child has… they must have stayed out in the cold too much… overworked… the medicine is quite expensive though, at least… that’s the minimum though…” the words were blurred together for you. Despite your fuzzy mind, you already got the gist of what was going on by the pain-stricken look on your parent's faces. They couldn’t afford that. You went back to sleep.

The next time you were woken up by the voice of the one who held most dear. You didn’t open your eyes, but you knew he was there, from his comforting voice as he stroked your arm. “I told you… overdo it… but that’s just how you are… too kind… make sure… better… love…” Your consciousness drifted away again.

The next few days you did not remember well, until your parents barged into the room with tears in their eyes, holding some sort of package. A sip of water and something fell down your throat, and you were soon asleep again.

You woke up the next day, feeling significantly better than before. Your parents were moved to tears, and they quickly recounted what had happened. Someone knocked on the door, and when they opened it, there was nothing but a package and a note left there. Inside was the medicine you needed, yet they did not know who placed it there. But you already knew the only person who’d do that for you.

You recognized the handwriting on the note as your friend’s. It was almost laughable. When you were first teaching him, he could barely form the letters properly, but he had practiced far more than you ever did, resulting in the pretty curves of words on a surprisingly strong piece of paper. You idly wondered how he managed to get it.

This medicine will make you better. Don’t worry about how I got it.

I have decided to leave this place for a while and pursue the dream I told you about. At first, despite my resolution, I was not sure how to go about it. But after seeing the things that happen to you, to a good person, I made up my mind to attain what I desire.

I would like to write more, but I’m afraid I do not have the time right now. But, do not worry. I will come back for you.

Please don’t push yourself too hard until then. I promise, soon you will not have to suffer any longer. Until then, thank you for believing in me.

The note ended there.

Even though your mind was still fuzzy from the fever, the contents of the letter quickly snapped you out of a stupefied daze. He left? Just like that? Of course, you weren’t mad at him for leaving. After all, you encouraged him to go for it, to at least try so that he wouldn’t meet the same fate as most people who lived in the slums did. But you didn’t even get to say goodbye. No hug or anything. No time to tell him how you felt. The reality of that made your heart sink.

You weren’t able to leave bed for a few days but as soon as you felt better again you roamed the streets, looking for the familiar tufts of black hair. You trudged through the thick snow, checking all possible spots he could be in, but to no avail. He was gone. It was as if he never existed too - the only thing you had to remember him by was this note. You thought about him every day, hoped for his success in his endeavors, and a small part of you hoped he thought about you too.

When you became of age, you were approached with an offer from the Northland Bank. You’re completely baffled at first, and a bit scared. Mostly Fatui members worked there, and why would they approach a low-class citizen like yourself too? But the offer was too tempting, the money calling your name and empty stomach more than ever. Your position was one of the lowest, simply making sure you had a perfect customer service smile as you directed customers where to go for their issues, but it paid damn well compared to the jobs in the slums. You worked hard and humbly, unaware your job was pulled behind the scenes by a… certain rising Fatui member.

A few years went by, and your position only went up. You weren’t really sure why when there were much more qualified Fatui workers than you but you gratefully accepted it. You had gotten used to the daily routine of greeting customers and helping them with their accounts. A while ago, you remember the bank being in a slight uproar over something.

“What’s all the commotion about?” you questioned. The bank was usually a quiet place.

“Northland Bank is now under the control of someone new! A new Harbinger has control of all the banks now!”

“Oh really? I didn’t expect that.”

“No, no, no - it’s not just that. You need to look at the picture of him. He’s jaw-dropping!!” your co-worker squealed as they shoved the newspaper into your face. You chuckled and dropped your eyes to the paper, but your smile immediately disappeared, and your face contorted into one of disbelief at who you saw. You snatched the paper out of their hands and practically pressed it to your face.

It couldn’t be. But the hair, the way his lips curved, the flutter of his eyelashes when he smiled. It was way too similar. You skimmed the article for more information. Pantalone, the new ninth Harbinger, was now the wealthiest among them… in charge of Snezhnaya’s economy and money supply… ambitious and promising.

You shakily put down the paper. The one in the papers was your childhood friend. So this was where he was all these years? Working for the Fatui? He’d been in the same nation the whole time and you didn’t know. But, that was a relief at the same time. At least he wasn’t somewhere far away.

“You looked like you’ve seen a ghost,” your co-worker chuckled. “Did his beauty stun you that much?”

You nervously chuckled and nodded in agreement, trying to organize your thoughts. Your childhood friend had achieved the dream he told you about so long ago. He didn’t just become rich, but a Harbinger at that, one of the most powerful positions in Snezhnaya and the world - he became Pantalone. And furthermore… he had grown up to be such a handsome, classy man. Your heart raced just thinking about him, as all the childhood memories rushed to your head. Did he remember you? No, no, that was countless years ago. He had the most luxurious life one could ever imagine. No way he would remember the random friend he made that long ago.

But that was okay, you thought as prepared to start working again. You were okay with burying these feelings again. You would be happy seeing him from afar, happy that he was living the life he deserved.

A year or two had passed since Pantalone was officially inducted as a Harbinger. Even though you decided you would be happy observing him from afar, it didn’t stop you from cutting out the articles of every newspaper Pantalone was in. You couldn’t help it - it had been so long. When the Harbingers were gathered in Snezhnaya, you’d brave the crowds and peer around for him. Some days you did not manage to see him. Your view was mostly obstructed by the cheering citizens, but one day, you were able to see him up close. It took your breath away. He was ethereal… You had to beeline it out of there before you started to get too emotional. The only thing you had yet to be aware of was that the ninth Harbinger himself saw you. Yes, he had always been keeping a close eye on you, staying his distance only for your safety. But that was soon to change.

It was another normal day at Northland Bank. The only noteworthy thing was that someone important was set to visit soon, so everyone was expected to be on their best behavior. It wasn’t anything new though - many people wanted to see the richest bank in Teyvat.

“[Name], could you go retrieve the documents of this client for me, please? Their name is…” your co-worker called. You nodded, after all, you had to return some files to the room as well. You got up, hands full, and headed to the room when your co-worker called for you again.

You turned around to face her and kept walking backward, ready to listen to her request when suddenly her face turned very pale. It looked like she was mouthing something to you and making an ‘X’ with her arms. Of course, you were confused by this gesture, so you turned back around to see what was wrong. But your vision was blocked by a black wall, one that had bits of blue and silver embroidering it, and before you could stop your legs from moving, you walked smack right into it.

“Watch it, dear,” a pair of hands reached out to steady your shoulders. “Make sure to watch where you’re going, hm?”

Your heart felt like it was stuck in your throat. That sleek voice was all too familiar, and the feeling of the bands of bejeweled rings through the gloves was a tell-tale sign of who it was. The visitor to the bank today was the Ninth Harbinger, Pantalone, and no one told you.

“Such a hard worker, aren’t you? So diligent,” the voice purred, his arms moving from your shoulders to down your arms, smoothing out your clothing and releasing you. Should you look up? Would that be disrespectful? You should respond though, right?

“Yes,” you said meekly. “Yes, sir,” you quickly corrected yourself. A moment of silence passed, and you think he was expecting you to raise your head, but you kept your stare on his well-polished shoes, which probably cost more than everything you own.

“Excuse me then, sir,” you stated timidly, desperate to get out of the situation. Before Pantalone could say anything, you bowed your head even more and speedily walked away, making sure to lock yourself in the files cabinet room. If you could scream right now, you would, because what the hell just happened?!

Outside, Pantalone was left with his usual smile. But inside, he was truly pleased - he was finally able to touch you after countless years. Oh, but the way you didn’t even look at his face left him slightly wounded; he wanted to see your eyes tremble with emotion and see your soft lips up close. But he did not need to worry. He would be seeing much more of you after all. Walking out of the bank, he left everyone in shock.

You prayed that you would not have to go through something like that but nope. Every day, Pantalone would come into the bank with the excuse of inspecting and observing the premises. But you knew that was a damn lie because all you could feel while you were working was his gaze on you. He would not hesitate to come up behind you and watch you work, making you nervous and almost mess up, with his silky compliments going to your head. He smelled so good and his hair bounced with practically every step, his voice had deepened to a velvety smooth one.

It was impossible for your childhood crush to not come creeping back up. The only problem was that you could not bring yourself to muster any conversation, so it was primarily Pantalone speaking. The only thing he managed to wring out of you was “Yes, sir” or “No, sir.” The most embarrassing part of this was that everyone in the bank knew what was going on. Yet the Harbinger did not seem to care. In fact, he seemed to enjoy it, as if he was sending out an undeniable message that said “They’re mine.”

Pantalone knew he had many admirers, people who lusted after him and his wealth. Yet the only one he had eyes were was you - the only person who had stayed with him since the miserable days of his childhood. He had been separated from you for so many years, building his reputation and wealth, slowly but surely, keeping you in mind as he worked tirelessly. Even when he became a Harbinger, he had to keep his distance and sort out any possible enemies. But now, he could finally have you all to himself.

Pantalone had caught you after your shift ended. As soon as you exited the bank, he was right there waiting for you, with that smile you deeply loved yet would not admit. You looked to the sides to see if there were any possible ways to escape, but he had trapped you.

“My dear [Name], why don’t we take a walk together? The weather is not too bad today.”

And that was how you found yourself in your current situation, walking side by side with your crush. Your throat felt dry as Pantalone spoke.

“You’ve been quite cold,” he feigned hurt. “It wounds me so that my dear childhood friend would forget me.”

You don’t know what came over you, but you immediately responded to that. “I didn’t forget. I could never forget you. I remember everything,” you blurted out swiftly. “I just,” you stopped walking and stared at the snow-covered path, thinking of what to say. Pantalone stopped walking too.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, I do very much in fact, it’s just that I don’t really know how to act since you’re a fancy Harbinger now and I’m just me, a normal person. And I didn’t really know if you’d still wanna talk to me since you have way better people to interact with anyway, and plus-”

“[Name],” Pantalone interrupted you. “Look at me.”

Hesitantly, you dragged your eyes from the ground to his face. His smile was gone, and his expression was unreadable, but he spread his arms to the side and uttered two words. “Come here,” he beckoned. That was all you needed as you jumped into his arms, pressing your face against his chest.

His hand stroked your hair and you melted into his touch instantly. “Darling, I can’t fathom how or why you would come to such a conclusion, but it’s quite the opposite. You are the only one who occupies my thoughts. The one who was the only light in my childhood. The one who saved me and helped me, expecting nothing in return.” His voice was soft as he held you tighter. “You are the only one I want.”

Your heart rate had increased significantly at his declaration of love. This was too much to process, so you opted to just squeeze your arms around him tighter. He got the message and allowed you time to take that in. Finally, you lifted your head up and peeked at his gorgeous face.

“Are you mad at me?” you said regretfully.

“I can assure you I could never be upset at anything you would do. That face is too adorable to be mad at,” he chuckled. You gritted your teeth. Why did he have to be so damn suave all the time?

His finger came to hook under your chin, making you raise your head more. His thumb playfully stroked your lips, wanting nothing more than to claim them as his.

“May I?”

You did not respond and instead jumped at the opportunity to surprise him, capturing his perfectly soft lips in yours. Clearly, he was not expecting that as his eyes widened, but he promptly bounced back by responding with more passion. And Archons, it was amazing. You didn’t really know what you were doing, but he took control flawlessly. He withdrew from the kiss, enjoying your breathless expression.

“I’m taking you home, to your new home,” he corrected himself. Smiling at your wide-eyed look, he pecked your lips again. “Surely you did not think,” he kissed you again, “that you would be away from me now? You’re going to live with me, of course.”

“I d-didn’t know we were just diving straight into- mhpm!” Your lips were not being spared from Pantalone’s greedy assault.

“I have had to deal with being away from you for years, not being able to feel you or talk to you, dealing with people who meant nothing to me. Do you know how painful that was?” Pantalone spoke genuinely and cupped your cheek. “I hope you do not plan to deny me, for I intend to spend as much time as possible with you starting now.”

You reached up and intertwined your fingers with his hand on your cheek. “Well… that sounds very good to me. I’ve missed you so much,” you agreed shyly, gazing into his loving eyes.

“Good,” Pantalone placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we, my love? Ah, and we’ll have to organize a new wardrobe for you, meals, products, assigned maids…” he continued to list off new items that you would have. (He promised the best for you, after all.)

You sweatdropped, slightly lost at his rambling. Did you really need all of that? But, you’d think about that later. You tugged at his arm, interrupting his mumblings.

“Come on, let’s go home, okay? I have a story I’ve been wanting you to read for me…”

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone fluff #pantalone genshin #pantalone #genshin impact pantalone #fatui x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui harbingers

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fangisms · 5 months

Text

lady may

A/N: something ab writing for an angry hufflepuff really saved my soul. she is SO valid. maybe i’m her. (also this song eats away at my brain, so i had to write ab it… naturally) gif creds: @frodo-sam

Pairings: Cedric Diggory x Fem!Grumpy!Hufflepuff!Reader

Summary: Well, he’s not the toughest hickory that your axe has ever felled // But he’s a hickory just as well 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, cursing, two idiots very much in love, pining, angry hufflepuff, dumb/embarassed reader (lovingly), golden retriever cedric, quidditch injury mention

How could you look so beautiful drenched by the pouring rain, hovering ten meters in the air, goggles suctioned to your face, barking orders at the rest of the team like a drill sergeant? It’d always make him wonder. And midgame, that’s a silly thing to do. Which is exactly why he’s doing it.

You’re the angriest girl Cedric’s ever met. World class beater and a great captain, but you’ve got serious anger issues. The guys have started calling you boxer because you’re always on the verge of a scrap. Cedric has seen you chew out almost every position on the team. Except him. You’ve never yelled at him, you barely even look in his direction on a good day. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, he wants you to yell at him.

Well, not entirely inexplicable. Now would be the best time to mention he’s got a huge crush on you. In fact, he’s had a crush on you since you became team captain. You’ve always been pretty, but something about the title and the power really commanded his attention.

Which is precisely why he needs you to yell at him. He craves it. He’s been waiting all year for you to tell him he’s an idiot and that he’s doing everything wrong. But you won’t. And desperate times call for very desperate measures.

He’s barely dodging bludgers, not even trying for the snitch, doing party tricks in front of the stands, anything for you to glance his way. And then he goes and gets knocked off his broom. Luckily, he wasn’t too high in the air and he wasn’t flying too fast. The worst that happened was he got the wind knocked out of him. The best? You marching toward him like a sicced dog.

You kneel at his side, goggles loose around your neck as you coo, “are you okay?”

What? No, this is all wrong, you’re supposed to call him stupid, say that next time he’s off the team. Not ask if he’s okay.

Cedric nods and you help him sit up, signalling to the stadium that he’s alright. A cheer rips through the crowd.

“Can you play?” you huff, patting his back softly. He’s got butterflies.

“Yeah,” he says. When you get him on his feet, he almost wishes you won’t let go. And he suddenly remembers you’re much prettier up close, and his heart nearly gives out.

“Good sport, Diggory,” you tease, hopping back on your broom, “Back to work!”

It’d take a brain injury to get your attention.

The game goes off without a hitch: Cedric goes back to actually trying for the snitch and wins Hufflepuff the game. He’s a little disappointed he hsan’t given you anything else to be upset about. So once the celebration is over, he catches you outside of the locker rooms.

“Why didn’t you get mad at me?” Cedric asks, jogging to catch you as you head back towards the dorms. You don’t respond, but he’s sure you heard him. So he nudges your shoulder. “Come on, boxer, I’ve seen you angry, I’m prepared.”

You stop dead in your tracks, and he slows to a stop just behind you. Then you turn to face him, and he’s never seen your glare so intense.

“Listen, Diggory, you’re smart, you’ve got talent, and I trust you to perform well on this team. So I can’t for the life of me understand why you go out on that field just to dick around.”

You’re serious. Not angry, just serious. You’ve got this calm and collected tone that drives him absolutely up-the-wall insane. But he wants you to yell.

“You have plenty of adoring fans tracking your every move, you don’t have to pull dumb shit to get people to like you. You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or killed, understand? So I advise you put your team and your safety before your reputation,” you say, storming off with your bag slung over your shoulder.

And it gets him kind of worked up because obviously, he wouldn’t have done any of it if it weren’t for you. You and your stupidly selective anger issues. And your stupid smile.

“Hold on,” he hollers, still half drunk on the idea of being subject to your rage, “you think I don’t put this team at the top of all of my lists? Clearly, I love this stupid sport or I wouldn’t put so much damn time and effort into it!”

“If you love this sport, act like it.” Your jaw ticks before you march through the doorway, leaving him flustered in the mist of the courtyard.

…

He’s giving it one last go. If you won’t get angry with him, maybe he ought to just confess his feelings outright. This feels like the most rational he’s ever been. He even combed his hair extra carefully in hopes of you noticing.

Your friends quiet down when he approaches you in the mess hall, small flower pinched between his fingers, grin plastered across his face. You look a little annoyed but he’s pretty sure it’s just shock. And suddenly it feels like grade school when they all burst into giggles.

“This is for you—”

“Diggory.”

He cocks a brow. “Yeah?”

You grab the sleeve of his robes and drag him out into the hall, near slamming him into the stone wall. So much for his combed hair.

“What was that back there?” you hiss, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Well. I brought you a flower. It’s from the field—”

“I can see that!”—you’re frenzied searhcing for any possible explanation other than he has a head injury from falling—“Explain to me why.”

He looks confused and presents the flower again.“Isn’t it obvious?”

You look down at the flower. It’s small and white and looks so delicate in his hand. And you look at him. You suppose his pupils are a little extra dilated. “Are you poisoned? Or drunk?”

“No!”

You finally let go of him to gesture wildly. “Then what, Cedric—Merlin’s beard—What???”

“I brought you a flower,” he coos, tilting his head. You press two fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Yeah, I got that part—”

“Hold on—hasn’t anyone ever given you something nice because… they like you?” Cedric hums, shuffling closer to you. Your eyes are glued to the tiny flower, but you won’t take it. Then you glare up at him.

“Is this a joke? Did the twins put you up to it?”

“No, just take the flower! I like you!” He sounds dastardly jovial, taking your wrist in one hand and presisng the flower to your palm with the other.

“What?” you scoff. Still staring down at the flower, making him wish his face was made of them so you’d look at him like that.

“Yeah,” he sighs.

And then you look at him. In the eyes. Perplexed, brows knitted, but you’re looking right at him and he could faint. Maybe it is a head injury.

“But I’m not… I’m not like…”

“Like what?” he asks.

“Well, it’s just—I’m confused because… you like pretty girls, and I’m not… that’s not what I do—am. What I am.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” he huffs.

“Cho is pretty,” you state.

“You’re pretty.”

“No, Cedric, I play quidditch. If I was pretty, I’d have a boyfriend,” you reason, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a real run for his money.

“And those things are connected… how?”

You scoff and relax a little when he puts his hands on his hips. So what if he’s incredibly handsome. So what if your friends want to see you together. So what if he’s the one person you don’t want to rip to shreds. It’s not like any of that matters. Right?

“It makes sense!” you say.

“No, it doesn’t. Can I be your boyfriend?”

“Diggory, don’t—”

“Is that a no?”

“Well, no! But you’re being rash! You’ll change your mind, and you’ll want your flower back!”

He shakes his head. “No. I gave you a flower because I think you’re very wonderful and very beautiful and I want to be your boyfriend.”

“But…”—he’s very amused by the fact that he’s made you flustered—“I sweat a lot!”

“So do I,” he chuckles, “we do play quidditch together, I hope you know.”

“Okay, okay, fine. We… argue!” you chirp.

“And you’re almost always right! Problem solved,” he says, “Now, would you be my girlfriend or do I have to get down on my knees?”

“No! I mean, yes! No, no, no knees, just… yes. I will be your girlfriend.”

Cedric smirks, taking the flower from your still open palm and tucking it behind your ear. Yesterday, he could barely say hello to you, and now he’s pulling you closer and tilting your chin up. His heart flutters when you palm his waist, and you smile when he leans a little closer.

“Are you going to kiss me?” you hum. He chuckles.

“Only if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes and smile. “Naturally.”

masterlist

#he fell first AND he fell harder #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x fem!reader #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fluff #idiots in love #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader #cedric #Spotify

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p4ison1vy · 27 days

Text

This may leave a sour taste in some peoples mouths but I’m saying it anyways

I keep seeing certain posts floating around talking about how it’s “disrespectful” and “degrading” for people to ask for a part 2 (or multiple parts) in fanfics or ask to be in a tag list….

Do y’all realize people ask this because they LOVE what you wrote?? People don’t ask this because they’re DEMANDING you to pump out more content (excluding people who are actually rude). For y’all to make this a problem NOW when people have been doing this since forever really irks my nerves. If you don’t want people asking for multiple parts or ask to be apart of a tag list, then state that on your account or state it in somewhere in the fanfic cause 90% of y’all literally state in y’all’s content:

“[insert what to do here] to be a part of the taglist!”

“leave your @ in the replies to be added to the taglist”

“like this post to be apart of the taglist”

“reblog this post to be added to the taglist”

(this including to be tagged in multiple parts as well)

And now y’all are complaining that people are asking…when y’all are the ones who have been encouraging it?????

I swear there’s always something y’all complain about every single fucking week. Is this even a community anymore? Like damn….

If someone for example asks “part 2?” or says “this was so good! are you making a part 2?”, that isn’t a sign for you to accuse them of degrading you…they’re simply asking you this question because they like your work and would like to see more.

And I’d like to state that I KNOW how it feels to create content when there’s a lot of personal issues or just a lot going on in your life. I used to write, make edits, and do digital art and it can be very overwhelming when you see multiple people ask for something all at once. I’m in college and I rarely have the time to do any of that anymore. But I ALSO know how to react when it comes to a situation like this. For example, I’d edit my post saying that I’m too busy with personal issues in my life or I’d reply to people in the comments telling them I can’t do what they’re asking of me. If someone one’s being rude (which that has happened to me many times before), they’d get blocked. It’s something that simple to do instead of making an entirely too huge of a deal to be making multiple posts about.

I WILL say this, if you are someone who rudely demands writers on here to pump out content for you, you can go fuck yourself because people have lives outside of tumblr or writing content.

But to say someone is “degrading” you or “demanding” you when they are asking a simple question and/or complimenting your content is shitty as fuck.

I will also like to state that I will always compliment a writer for their work (and anyone who reads ffs and wants more content from said writer should too!). It’s something to do out of generosity and it can keep a writer motivated.

I really wish that this community in whole could communicate more efficiently. I’ve seen so many amazing and talented writers deactivate because of the toxicity that’s circulates around this fandom…

#tlou #tlou part 2 #ellie williams #ellie x fem!reader #ellie williams x reader #tlou ellie #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson #1vys blog #it ain’t never that serious

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astroph1les · 2 months

Text

only on camera | e.w

summary: you and your girlfriend, ellie, find an old camcorder at local thrift store. it’s fun, domestic, and sweet until the two of you decide to use it to make your own personal movie.

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader

contains: mature content, modern! ellie, established relationship, fluff, smut— oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), reader and ellie are roughly 19-20, ellie is obsessed with reader, reader is described to have a soft stomach and stretch marks so its open to all body types.

word count: 3.3K

a/n: i’ve been debating to post another ellie oneshot and even writing anymore for a while now because of everything that has been going on gaza. i hope you guys click on the links below to educate and keep yourself updated on the horrors that the people of gaza are going through. free palestine.

FREE PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK | DO NOT BUY TLOU2 REMASTERED

It started on a simple thrifting date.

You and Ellie often shopped at your local thrift stores for a multitude of reasons: it's cheap for not only clothing but accessories as well. You had a slight addiction to the purse and jeans section. There was nothing you loved more than finding a good pair of jeans.

But today, you decided to linger in the electronics section. Ellie trailed behind you with a shopping cart that already had a bunch of pants and cheesy graphic tees for the two of you to try on.

You picked up a small speaker, examining it for its quality.

“Ellie?” You hum to Ellie who was already holding up a chunky VHS camera.

“Babe, check this out,” Ellie walked around the cart to hold up the flipped screen to you.

You set the speaker down on the metal shelf, leaning over to see that the early late 90’s camera was still working properly. With just your luck, too, there were a few tapes next to where Ellie had picked it up from.

“Holy shit, this still works?” You grin as you fidget with the settings. “Should we get this?”

Ellie let out a scoff before nodding: “Fuck yeah. We could record videos to look back on when we’re miserable and old as shit. Like thirty or something.”

You shake your head at her dramatics.

“Thirty is not old but yeah, it could be fun.” You lean into her side, pointing to the tapes and charger that were still plugged into the camcorder. “Grab the tapes, please?”

You tilt your head with a smile at her. Ellie blushes at the eye contact you made with her, kissing your cheek before taking the tapes and charger into her hands. She nervously scratched at her ear as she set the objects into the cart where the child seat was, hoping you didn't see how pink her cheeks turned.

God, she was so adorable.

She would deny the accusation constantly with a shake of her head and a mutter of ‘no, I’m not’ being the stubborn girl she is.

After trying that on all of the clothing, you ended up only narrowing down to a few pairs of jeans and the camera plus the equipment. Once you got back to Ellie’s place, it started out with a few recordings of you doing nothing.

“So, vlog, my beautiful, hot, and sexy girlfriend is getting ready for the day,” Ellie pressed record and held up the camera to you who was applying sunscreen to your freshly washed face. “Not that she needs to because, damn, look at her.”

You let out a groan as you shake your head, now applying your moisturizer right after.

“Babe, you can record at any other time. Why right now?” You chuckle as she just gets closer, zooming into your eyes.

“What do you have to say to your future self who is probably already very happily married to me?” Ellie ignores your complaint, grinning as she backs up a little to get your entire face into the frame.

“Is she still giving that good top?” You deadpan to which Ellie chuckles at.

“I wish I could stop, baby,” she cups your face with one hand, smirking from behind the camera.

“Els,’” you trail off, almost warningly as your cheeks flushed.

Without missing a beat, you playfully slap the camera out gently of your face. Ellie dramatically gasps at your actions, holding the camera at an angle so she can clean the lens with her black wife pleaser.

“Hey! You brought it up.” She shrugged her shoulders as if it were nothing, showing off her outfit in the full-body mirror on the back of the bedroom door.

You smile adoringly at her from your set-up in your vanity mirror, hearing her hype herself up. You had just applied a good amount of your base before motioning for her to come over to you once again. Ellie walked over to you, grinning happily.

“It’s your turn, Els,” you grab the chunky camera from her.

She reluctantly lets you take it from her and crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at you patiently. You pan the camera up and down as she was wearing a very basic outfit but damn, she always looked good. The way she crossed her arms accentuated her biceps and the big tattoo on her forearm.

“What do you have to say to your future self, baby?” You look at her through the small screen and then at her in real life.

Ellie hummed as she scratched at her jaw. The awful lighting from just your open-blind window made it more homey to you.

“You better not fuck it up with this perfect girl right here.” Ellie points to you with a slight grin as she notices your own smile from behind the camera.

A lot of the videos were just like that. Domestic and homey as the locations changed between your house and hers. Joel even made a few appearances like, for instance, his 58th birthday. All of your family and Joel’s threw a barbecue to which you and Ellie had traded interviewing your sides of the family.

Sarah gave a few loving words for her dad, Jesse, and Dina covered the lens the entire time Ellie tried to record them, and your parents made a few jokes about him being ‘damn near in the grave already.’

Now, you were standing in front of Joel who was working the grill. Ellie was busy already tearing into a few hot dogs so you took the time to ask him some questions.

“So, Joel, how do you feel being fifty-eight?” You record him.

“I feel the same as last year. Ain’t nothin’ special,” he shook his head as if you were bothering him but you knew he was just being a grump for the camera.

“Well, birthday boy, describe what it's like being almost sixty,” you chuckle as he places a hand on his hip, looking at you this time with raised brows.

“Old as hell. Now, here, eat.” He grumbled as he grabbed a hot dog for you and placed it on a paper plate.

You giggled as his southern accent was hilarious when he got all grumpy. He just sounded like a Texan grandpa who’s always complaining about kids these days.

“I figured. Happy birthday, Joel.” You warmly smile at him as you shut the small screen and walk over to hug him.

He tensed for a moment, holding the tongs out of the way. He relaxed into your embrace before pointing at your hot dog.

“Thanks, kid. Now, eat before the damn flies get to it first.” Joel kissed the top of your head before releasing your body.

You let out a soft laugh as you grabbed the white plate before walking over to where Ellie was sitting with her step-sister, Sarah. You send Sarah a smile as you set the camera down next to Ellie, watching her lick the mustard off of her fingers. You grimace at her messy eating before Sarah tells her to stop being gross.

Ellie put her middle finger up at her with an annoyed expression. You grabbed her finger and put it down as your parents were only a few feet away from the two of you.

A few more days passed and you and Ellie had a rather sensual make-out session in her bedroom. Her hands were already up your Beatles oversized t-shirt, the feeling of her palms groping at your tits sending shivers up your spine. You were underneath her, your own hands cupping the sides of her face as you moaned softly into her mouth.

Ellie pulled away suddenly which only caused you to whine, missing her touch.

“Can I get the camera, baby?” She asked you, moving one of her hands down to your hips underneath your shirt and squeezing the flesh.

You nod your head frantically, not even hesitating. The idea was brought up maybe two minutes after purchasing the camera. Ellie said it as a joke but you knew that you would make a million sex tapes with your girl. She made you feel like the sexiest version of yourself and you were curious to see what that looked like on video. Plus, no risk of it getting stuck on the cloud of either of your phones.

Ellie leaned down to peck your lips as she stood up from her bed to grab it from the top of her dresser, right next to her cologne. You sit up slightly as you wait patiently for her to start the camera fixing your hair a bit. You knew the footage was solely going to be between you and her but it didn't hurt to try and make sure you look good.

“Look at my pretty girl,” Ellie’s voice is dripping in lust as she points the lens directly at your flushed and panting figure on the bed.

You somehow managed to blush even more, practically beaming at her compliment. You didn't know what to do now that it was a reality. All you were doing was looking up at her from her standing figure.

How did pornstars do this?

“What do you want me to do, hmm?” Ellie cupped your cheek, her inked arm coming into the frame.

Your face leaned into her touch, sighing at the feeling. Her thumb teasing ran over the swollen skin of your bottom lip. Being the horny shit you were, your jaw fell open in hopes Ellie would slip the finger into your awaiting mouth.

But no; she continued to trace the supple skin with a cocky grin on her face.

“You want my finger, baby?” Ellie hums as she tightens her grip ever so slightly.

“Maybe.” You raise your brows, your pupils blown with desire practically giving you away.

“Maybe?” She looks at you with her head tilted, her own brows raised to match yours. “The way you instantly opened your mouth said something way different.”

You shake your head and take her thumb into your mouth seconds after that, sucking on it with a smile. Ellie muttered a curse under her breath as she watched you through the pixelated screen, wondering how she got so lucky with you.

You, being the tease you are, pull away after about a minute to look up at her with need in your eyes. While still looking up at her, you removed your oversized tee to reveal your bare chest. Your hair settled over your shoulders, framing your face perfectly. You were only in your cheeky cotton maroon panties.

“Jesus, fuck me.” Ellie angled the camera down to your tits, having a little too much fun holding it.

“Alright, give me it, Els.” You snatched the camera from her, pointing it up at Ellie’s towering figure. “You want to eat me out or what?”

Ellie couldn't help but chuckle at your bluntness and confidence now that the camera wasn’t on you. Regardless, she kneeled down on the bed with a ready sigh. She leaned over the camera to capture your lips into a gentle kiss, making you smile giddily.

Your smile was infectious, Ellie, too, smiling so much to the point where she had to pull away. Ellie began to scoot more down your body as you pointed the camera down at her figure. She was caressing your sides as her lips kissed at your chest, moving more and more downwards to your tits. Your breath hitches as she takes your left nipple into her mouth, the warmth and wetness of her tongue sending pleasure down your spine.

Ellie palms both of your tits, looking up at the lens and then your flushed face from behind it. She continues to suck on your hard nipple, smirking when your hips buck into her own.

“Feels good, Els,” you whimper, your arms already becoming weaker.

Ellie hums against your damp skin, pulling away to grope and admire them. She was annoyingly still in her sports bra and her boxers, revealing nothing to you. If you weren't so clouded by the want of her mouth on your pussy, you would’ve said something.

Ellie’s long fingers hook at the waistband of your panties, looking up at you with a silent question of if it was okay. You nod with a grin, lifting your hips to help her. Ellie slid the dampened underwear down your legs. You could see the wet patch on the crotch area, a slight pang of embarrassment flowing through you.

Ellie, thankfully, began to place feather-soft kisses on the plush of your stomach. You watch her trail her lips down from your skin, inching closer to above your pubic bone.

“Fuck, baby, look at how wet you are,” Ellie teased your drenched folds, the obscene sound causing you to blush shyly.

She holds up her pointer and middle finger, the clear slick of your arousal glistening. She practically shoves them into the lens as you groan at her actions.

“Els, please, don’t. I don’t want my… juices on the camera.” You cringe at the way you phrased it but end up giggling at Ellie’s disgusted face.

“Well, I love your juices,” Ellie quickly grinned devilishly as she sucked off those fingers.

She drove you insane with the smallest things. When she kissed and caressed the plush of your hips and thighs, whispering how ‘sexy’ and ‘perfect’ you are to her. Even touching into the stuff you tended to be more insecure about like the stretch marks on your body.

You never worried about those toxic mind-consuming thoughts with Ellie.

”Can I see the camera, baby? Wanna get this view right here.” Ellie reached for it to which you handed back.

She aimed the camera lens more towards your crotch, legs spread to reveal how much your cunt was needing some release. You suck in a deep breath and adjust yourself as Ellie muttered praises as she ran her fingers carefully over your throbbing clit and soaked folds.

Beginning to grow impatient, you let out a soft noise. Ellie notices that you are becoming more and more needy for something, anything, so she leans over your panting body and sets the camera on the bedside table. The small screen was flipped so that Ellie could adjust it so that the two of you were in the frame. Your hands find their way over Ellie’s body and up into her hair.

You tug her down into a messy kiss, humming as Ellie is caught off guard by your force and nearly slipping from how she was holding herself up with one arm. She moaned softly against your lips, enjoying how your nails were scraping against her scalp.

She hungrily moved down your body, growing impatient herself. You pant softly as you watch her place messy kisses on the curves of your skin as she finally makes her way to your desperate cunt. You let out a soft sigh as she licks one teasing stripe over your clit.

“Look so pretty, Els.” You murmur as you move her falling strands of hair out of her face, a slight whine leaving your mouth.

And, god, she really did. Her eyelids were heavy over her gorgeous eyes as she looked up at you with a slight smile on her lips. She lazily kissed over the sensitive bud, that cheeky smile growing as your hips stuttered.

“My sweet girl.” She teased two fingers over your wet folds, letting out a groan at the obscene sight.

You continue to caress her face and head of hair, never wanting to tear your eyes away from your girlfriend. She glanced up at you as she carefully slid her middle finger into your warm cunt. She kept telling you how good you felt around her fingers and how much she missed your ‘perfect pussy’.

For a moment, you forgot about the camera that was recording your every move. The mic picks up every whine, moan, the sound of Ellie’s fingers fucking into you.

“Baby,” you pant, allowing your hips to grind and follow her curling fingers.

Ellie merely hummed in question as she peered up at you with hooded eyes. You nearly forgot what you were going to be begging for.

More. You just needed more. More of her touch and her lips everywhere. The tightening coil in your lower abdomen and the desperate hump of your hips alerted you that you were getting closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna cum,” you admit, feeling almost embarrassed by how quickly it was happening.

Ellie pulled her mouth off of you as her arm continued to pump her fingers inside of you. Your chin tilts up, hands reaching up to cradle her face. Ellie hungrily leaned down to kiss you, moaning at the sound of you whimpering against her slick-covered lips.

You were whispering pleads as she continued to fuck you like her life depended on it. Ellie leaned back to look down at her movements before glancing at the camera.

“Cum for me, baby. Need something to help me later on when I watch this over and over just to see how beautiful you look cumming for me.” Ellie groans into your ear.

Your hand reaches down to grip at her wrist but Ellie grabs your hand to kiss at your palm as another form of stimulation. You whine as your hips stutter and you feel a sharp feeling running down your spine. Ellie mutters curses as she feels you clamp down on her two fingers as your orgasm takes over.

You let out a few louder moans as you sit up carefully to let yourself ride out the orgasm.

“Fuck, Els,” you whisper as you try and come down from the high as easily as possible.

“Hey, hey, lay back, baby,” Ellie ever so slightly pressed on your lower abdomen so that your back was against the mattress once again.

Feeling light and lazy, you do as she had told you. You take slow breaths as you shut your eyes. Ellie’s body hovers over yours for a moment and you hear the hard plastic being lifted from the bedside table. You open one eye to see Ellie was aiming the camera towards the cum that was leaking. Her already wet fingers were running through your folds, being as filthy as ever.

“How’s it look?” You hum with a playful grin.

“You know, perfect, I guess,” Ellie shrugs her shoulders but her grin tells you she’s matching your energy.

As tired as you were, you wanted to make Ellie feel good too. You sit up to come face to face with her, leaning close to capture her lips into a gentle kiss. Ellie hums against your lips, setting the camera on the empty mattress right next to you both. Pulling away, you take her hand that was inside of you and raise it to your lips.

“You're gonna wanna record this, Els,” You tilt your head towards the still-recording camera.

Ellie didn't have to be told twice as she leaped for the boxy hunk of plastic and aimed the lens at your pretty plumped lips. You lick up the length of her fingers, tasing your own arousal. Ellie watched you through the small screen, wondering how fucking lucky she got with you.

You had no idea who infatuated the freckled girl was with you. Your eyes flickered to Ellie behind the camera, her pale skin practically a poppy red shade from how flustered she was. You popped off her long fingers, kissing the pads of her middle and ring fingers before sitting back on your ass as you looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“You think I’ll be a star?” You ask again, playing into the pornstar role-play.

Ellie blew a huff of air as she cupped your face to peck at your lips: “Without a doubt, babe.”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #wlw smut #sapphic #wlw #ellie tlou2 #lgbtq community #lesbian

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dyadicjustice · 8 months

Note

can u do like a hazelxreader best friends to lovers

like they’ve both been secretly in love with each other and pining for years but were too scared to say anything (and maybe smut if u write that but if not that’s totally good)

ooooh let me see what magic i can work, bestie. aged up the characters to be in college, so rockbridge falls high is now rockbridge university. unfortunately no smut this time because i am awful at it 😅 but i hope you enjoy this little blurb instead

ao3 link for if u prefer to read there :)

At 11:30, Professor G's class let out without anyone having learned anything actually in the syllabus. But for you, there wasn’t much room in your mind for history lessons anyway. You were too distracted by Hazel sitting next to you, scrolling on Twitter and excitedly showing you every adorable cat meme she came across.

You’d known each other since the 3rd grade, and it was safe to say that some things never change— especially not your love for one another as best friends. At least until the end of Senior Year, when you’d started to realize that change was inevitable, and you’d fallen hard for her.

You’d been overcompensating these past couple months. You’d purposely try to fly under the radar, so she wouldn’t notice you pining or the countless lingering looks and lip biting. Desperation was heavy in your bones, settled deep in your core. So when you finally return to your shared dorm, she asks, “Seriously y/n, it seems like you’re not even here most days. What’s going on?”

You know you can’t lie to her. You can’t lie to those dazzling grey eyes, so warm and sweet and sincere. So you sigh and admit, “Are you ready to receive some potentially devastating information that could change the state of our friendship forever?”

She blinks and lets out a quiet chuckle, “Uh, no promises, weirdo. What’s up?”

“Hazel, I’m being serious. It’s like... important,” you whine.

She hikes an eyebrow at your nervous demeanor, taking a beat to take in your features. She’s suddenly fully aware you’re uncomfortable when you start to wring your hands a bit. To calm your fidgeting, she slips her hands in between them and intertwines your fingers. You feel her sweet gesture start to soothe you, like when puppies snuggle up to you to help you stop crying.

She whispers, “What’s wrong, bean?”

Your eyes start to water at the nickname. “You have to promise you won’t get upset”, you choke out.

She wraps her arms around your neck in a comforting embrace, and whispers in your ear, “I promise. You can tell me, only if you’re comfortable and ready.” And her considerate nature makes you want to cave and sob right then and there.

“I love you, Hazel. But, I also… I just… I’m in love with you.” You can’t even meet her eyes out of pure embarrassment. You feel her fingers snake beneath your chin, and she gently tugs until you’re looking into her eyes. She stares into yours, into your soul, really. She whispers, “y/f/n, I’ve been dreaming of hearing you say that for years.” You both giggle. You joke, “That’s such a fucking relief because I would’ve shat myself if you rejected me.”

“I could never reject you, bean! Thank you for being brave enough to tell me.” You can hear the smile in her voice. “But I am curious, when did you realize you felt that way?”

You sigh, “Honestly? I knew I was sure when we went to Senior Prom together, so 6 months maybe? But I also would say, I’d felt something since we were like 10. I just hadn’t realized how deep my love was back then.”

Hazel murmurs, “You made Prom Night so magical. You looked lovely. Not to mention, you just had this magnetism to you that had everybody staring. I was fighting the urge to kiss you the entire evening. It was hardest during the slow dance.”

You admit that you had felt similarly, explaining, “It was hardest for me to resist when you had that little bit of whipped cream stuck on your lip when we went to Denny’s after. I wiped it away with a napkin, but I wish I’d just gone for it.”

You stare up at her lovingly as a subtle silence emerges between you, your eyes scanning her features before dropping to her lips. Without saying a word, you crash your lips together. Hers taste like… well, like nothing and like everything at the same time. Just chapstick and love.

And it’s not your first time kissing a girl by any means, But you can already tell it’s your favorite after only ten seconds.

Hazel pulls away, breathless, “So just to be clear, what does this make you and me?” She smirks.

You hold her cheek with one hand and hook the other around the back of her neck, scratching the back of her head. Her jaw goes slack and her eyes flutter. You reply, “Horny, Hazel. It makes us really fucking horny.”

She smirks, “Maybe we should… do something about that. Your place or mine?” She dopily wiggles her eyebrows. It’s made even more ridiculous by the fact that your beds are just feet away from each other.

You shoot back, giggling, “Yours. I don’t wanna fuck up my sheets right now.”

She scoops you up bridal style and sets you down on her bed. Those months of pre-season training for rugby had made her insanely strong despite her short and lean figure.

She kisses your forehead and replies, “Whatever you wish, Your Majesty.”

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #bottoms (2023)#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023

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berryhobii · 10 months

Text

Reconnect (myg x reader)

Pairing: Idol!Min Yoongi x black!wedding designer!female! Reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, mentions of secret relationship, mentions of a wedding(but not Yoongi and the reader’s), reader and Yoongi are engaged, Smut(18+ but I don’t control what you consume), unprotected sex(please speak to your partners before engaging in this), vaginal sex, squirting, creampies, riding, doggy style, mating press/missionary, oral(f receiving), soft dom Yoongi(he’s super soft and vocal but also goes kind of rough😊), rough sex, multiple orgasms(f and m receiving), brief aftercare and mentions of amazing aftercare, reader has goddess locs(color and length not specified), reader also has that Wendy’s Strawberry Lemonade kitty, reader also also has nipple piercings, reader got a fat ass because who doesn’t appreciate a nice booty?

A/N: Hi! This is my second time uploading something. I’ve had this story in my drafts for a while. I had been writing it using she/her pronouns so I’ve been spending the past few days to change those to you/yours. If I missed any, I’m sorry but please let me know so I can make the story more cohesive. Reader is black but their skin color isn’t really described but I believe I referred to their nipples being dark so that’s it. My next post with either be a GreekMythology!Jimin or a Gamer!Jungkook. The Jimin story is actually really long so I think I’ll turn it into a small series but I’ll post the 1st chapter sometime next week. Thanks again for reading! Criticism is greatly accepted and I hope my black and melanated girlies feel good reading this! Have a good day.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know I said we’d have dinner but we have to do some last minute recording.”

You tried not to sound disappointed when you replied. “That’s okay. I understand.” And you truly did. You knew how important his job was and that it would be a priority of his.

You just wished that it didn’t take so much of his time. You understood that his music was his life and that it was his dream career. All of his hard work had led up to being able to do what he does now; to make music and inspire the millions of fans that listened. You were so proud of him. Seeing him live his dream filled you with a different kind of pride and emotion. He was happy and that’s all you ever wanted for him.

Still, you missed him. You two had barely spent any time together the past month while he’s been preparing for their new album. He’d come home long after you’d fallen asleep and he’d sleep into the afternoon, just to rise and immediately get ready to go again. You couldn’t even have breakfast together like you used to. You could barely even start a conversation before he was cutting you off with a kiss and rushing out of the door.

While you had your own career of designing wedding dresses, you still had so much free time on your hands. You had already designed your newest collection and it was currently in production to be created. You’ve even made multiple visits to a few stores and they were running amazingly. There was only so long you could bury yourself in work before your heart began yearning for Yoongi’s companionship.

“I promise when this is finished, we’ll go on a trip. Just you and me.”

That made you smile. You and Yoongi have traveled a lot together over the years; Bora Bora, Italy, The Maldives—and each experience had been just as memorable and romantic as the last. He proposed to you in Italy at the Orange Gardens. It was such a magical moment. Just thinking about it made you want to cry. The entire trip was just absolutely perfect; from taking a gondola ride on the gorgeous waters to the 5 Star hotel they stayed in for 3 days and 2 nights, all the way to the candlelit dinner where he got down on one knee. You remember it fondly.

While the promise of a trip together didn’t fix your loneliness now, it gave you something to look forward to.

You couldn’t fight the smile in your voice. “Okay.” Your eyes went over to the stove where dinner was cooking. You had just finished searing some steaks that were finishing up in the oven. There was no point of putting them away for him to eat later. They wouldn’t be as flavorful or tender.

“Hey, is it okay if I bring you some dinner? I know you haven’t eaten yet.” Your tone shifted to one of slight teasing but you knew you were right. His pause of silence was proof enough.

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I want to though. I made steak and I’ll feel better knowing you’ve eaten. I won’t stay long or distract you.” Just knowing he had a home cooked meal would make you happy. You would nag him constantly about drinking too much coffee and eating take out. It came from a place of love, however and Yoongi never minded. He loved having someone so attentive to his health when he’d blatantly ignore it. It showed you cared. Also, he secretly loved being babied by you. He’d never admit it out loud or to his friends but you knew. There was nothing better than coming home, a bath prepared for him to soothe his sore muscles, a meal on the table, and cuddling into your soft breasts while your rubbed his back—always being careful with his shoulder.

Your already nurturing nature and tendency to baby Yoongi increased tenfold once he got surgery. You barely let him leave the bed, even following him to the bathroom to make sure he didn’t hurt himself. A little bit stifling but he was so grateful to you. You always took care of him.

“Then that sounds great. I’ll leave my door open for you. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too. See you soon.”

With a giddy pep in your step, you finished cooking dinner, packaging it nicely in cute Tupperware before putting it in a bag. You had already showered and your clothes were fine but you wondered if you should put on something different. While Yoongi thought you looked good in anything, you still liked to look pretty for him; wearing dresses and heels whenever you went out, keeping your nails and toes done, and making appointments to get waxed every month. Self care was important to you. It not only made you feel good about yourself but it was also something you just liked to do for your husband.

Deciding to change your clothes, you slipped on a t shirt maxi dress that hugged and showed off all of your curves, along with some short open toed shoes to show off your freshly painted white toes. It was simple but still dressy and feminine, just your style.

Checking your hair once more in the mirror and smearing on some lip gloss, you grabbed the bag of food and your keys before exiting your home.

HYBE Studios was a pretty moderate drive from your apartment. The reason for that is to keep crazy fans from ever finding it. Once the company realized other idols were having their homes broken into, there was a decision to move all of the boys about 30 minutes from the company in a luxury gated neighborhood. You had to admit, you missed your old apartment you shared with Yoongi since that was their first place together but you also couldn’t complain about the walk in closet and the jacuzzi bathtub.

You greeted the security guard in front of the car garage, him lifting the block to the garage. After parking close to the company cars that were often used to transport the boys during RunBTS, you exited your car and made your way through the side door to the lobby.

You nodded at the secretary, everyone already knowing who you were and letting you pass with no issue.

Yoongi’s studio was on the 8th floor at the end of the hall. Namjoon’s was just a short distance away as well.

Once you reached his door, you entered the pin code on the keypad. Besides a few staff members and the boys, you were one of the few with the password to his studio. He just preferred silence and no disruptions so the code was only used during emergencies or whenever you or the boys came to visit. There was also a group chat for everyone with his code, adorably named ‘The Plastics’, courtesy of Taehyung. If they ever needed to come to his studio, they’d send a text beforehand so he’d know to expect them.

The beep sounded and you opened the door, smiling at the sight of your husband who was cutely leaned over on his right palm as his eyes scanned the production screen for his music. You didn’t get most of it but you always found it adorable when he’d try to explain. He’d get so invested in telling you how reverb and delay could either make or break a song that he’d never see how endearingly you’d stare at him. And he’d always get surprised when you’d lunge to bite his cheek.

“You are just too adorable! I have to bite you!”

His headphones were around his neck so he turned at the sound of his door opened, a smile immediately rising to his face at the sight of you. He removed his headphones, standing to greet you.

You could barely put the food down before his hands were around you waist, pulling you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck, cuddling into his body as you inhaled his cologne and the gentle scent of his favorite body wash.

He pulled away a little to press a few pecks to your forehead. “Hi baby.” His deep, slightly tired voice sent shivers down you spine. It was almost like his regular voice was just his morning voice constantly and out of all of the little things you loved about him, his voice was towards the top of your list—right after his newly grown out hair, his hands, and that little habit of him slurping whenever he’d explain things.

You inhaled a deep breath, basking in the affection. “Hi.”

You two just held each other for a moment, locked in an embrace and not wanting to let go. This was your special kind of intimacy, just not speaking or moving, simply holding one another.

Yoongi considered himself a pretty private person. A little ironic considering he was a world famous idol who’s whole job was being put in the spotlight. However, when it came to his personal relationships, he did his best to keep that as private as possible. Just imagine the uproar when people found out he was engaged. You had been hidden from the public eye for 3 straight years before you got engaged. How? One part extreme luck, the other part moving quietly. Your relationship started off with you meeting for the first time at a staff member’s wedding. You had designed her dress and she was so amazed and in love with how you created her dream dress that she insisted you come to her wedding. Always happy to see people overjoyed with your work and excited to see your design in action, of course you agreed. Coincidentally, you were sat pretty close to the table the boys were at. When you recognized them, you softly smiled and introduced yourself, expressing how you were a fan and how many women said they were using BTS songs as their wedding songs. Yoongi was drawn in instantly, your gentle voice and sparkling eyes as you talked about your clients drew him in. He could tell you were passionate about your career, just like he was.

After exchanging numbers while the bride and groom were cutting the cake, you two mainly texted and called each other in your free time. It took about 4 months for you to go on their first date since Yoongi had to go to America for promotions. He thought you’d lose interest since he traveled and couldn’t take you on a proper date but you never minded. You liked talking to Yoongi and found yourself developing feelings for him. He was trying and effort was one of your biggest green flags for a partner. A little distance wasn’t that big of a deal to you. Of course, you wanted to be able to be close to him and hold his hand and maybe even kiss but you knew what you were signing up for when you started talking.

Once Yoongi went on break, he started dedicating a lot of time to you; dates, inviting you to his place for dinner and wine, and learning more about you. He didn’t think you would get along so well. Talking on the phone was vastly different than being in each other’s physical presence but you had melded together like the pieces of a puzzle. You were so gentle and compassionate, always looking after him and giving him affection he hasn’t gotten in years. You were perfect for him and vice versa.

Your eyes slowly blinked up at him, just taking in his handsome features. You could spot the bags under his eyes, feeling a little sad that he was running himself ragged.

“You look tired. Have you slept since his morning?”

He hummed. “I took a little nap around lunch. The new couch came in.” You turned a little to look at the new addition to his studio. Before, he just had a small leather couch, moreso for decoration than comfort. Once he got a bigger studio, he upgraded his furniture but kept that couch. After some prodding from you, he ordered a new and more comfortable couch—one that could become a pull out bed for those overnights at the studio.

“It looks great.” It was a dark grey color, wide and stretched enough to fully support 2 people if you wanted to spoon on it.

“Yeah. I just didn’t think it would take that long to get it in the door. Namjoon almost knocked over my synthesizer.” He said that with a shake of his head. You giggled, imagining the tall and clumsy man scrambling to pick up the keyboard.

“I can only imagine. I brought food. You should eat it before it gets cold. I should go.” You tried pulling away from him only for him to tighten his grip on your waist. You let out an “oof” as your face met the hard planes of his chest. All that physical therapy and time in the gym had really bulked him up. While you loved his body regardless, you definitely weren’t complaining about the extra muscle. He was filling out this black shirt just fine.

He nuzzled his nose in your neck, inhaling your favorite perfume that you’ve worn since he met your. It was one of his favorite scents. His hands rubbed up and down your back, feeling all over the material of your dress.

“No, stay. Eat with me.”

Yoongi could be very affectionate and straightforward when he wanted to be, normally when you were alone. He’d never show this side in public. Not because he was ashamed of his love for your, far from that. He just preferred to keep their intimate moments private. Maybe a little kiss here and there and some hand holding but moments like this were for you only.

Your manicured fingers went to his nape, scratching at the hair there. “I don’t want to distract you.”

“You’re not.” He pulled back to look you in eyes. “I want you to eat with me. I feel bad we couldn’t have dinner at home.” And he did. He knew his job demanded a lot of his time and attention and even if you understood that, it didn’t stop him from feeling guilty about leaving you alone all the time. He knew you could entertain yourself and had your own life outside of him but he still felt bad not being able to spend as much time with you as he wanted. He missed you just as much. While he loved his job, nothing beat coming home to your warmth and affection. To be honest, he was getting a little touch starved.

He led you over to the couch, waiting for your to sit before going to the mini fridge in his studio.

“Do you want juice?” He asked as he pulled out a couple of drinks. He always kept some of your favorites in his mini fridge just in case. You didn’t drink caffeine or really any alcohol, water and juices were your favorites.

You nodded your head, beginning to take out the Tupperware containers. They were still nice and hot. He placed a juice down on the table, along with an energy drink. You frowned at that, leaning forward to pick it up.

“You need to drink water. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those coffee cups on your desk.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed but couldn’t hide his smile. You were too good to him. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t deserve you. Taking the energy drink from you, he went back to the fridge to grab a water instead.

Ignoring the smug smile on your face, he sat next to you, waiting for you to open all of the containers. The smell was delicious, making his stomach growl.

Your handed him some chopsticks and a few napkins before sliding the steak over to him. “Here. Try it.”

You ate in silence, him using his chopsticks to place some pieces of steak and vegetables in your bowl. You smiled, the cute ways Yoongi showed he cared always making your heart warm. Fans knew he was more subtle in showing he cared and that wasn’t any different than him in private. You had to learn that his love language was acts of service but in a more quiet way.

After you finished eating, he helped clean up the containers, giving you some wipes to clean your hands and the table.

He let out of a groan as he sat back down on the couch, belly full and fully ready for a nap. But he knew he had to get back to work and that meant you had to leave.

“Thanks, baby. It was delicious.” His hand came to rest on your thigh, rubbing the soft skin. You hummed, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course. I’m happy you liked it.” You both rested for a moment before you began moving. “I should go. You have work to do.”

You barely made it to your feet before he was tugging you back down on his lap. A surprised yelp came from your lips at the sudden movement, ass meeting his thighs when you landed. He situated you so that you straddled his hips, his hands immediately going to your ass.

“Baby….” You pouted, feeling a little shy all of a sudden. You were normally the one who initiated physical affection so for Yoongi to do it so roughly surprised you. You weren’t complaining, however. The way his eyes were hooded over and how he looked up at you with that dark endearment made your belly tingle. You knew where this was going.

“Stay.” His left hand pressed your body down so your chest squished against his. “You come here in this dress and my favorite shoes…”

You adjusted yourself to wrap your arms around his neck. “I hardly wear these.”

He shrugged. “I love anything you wear. You look so sexy.” His hand traveled up your dress, moving it up your ass so he could grope full handfuls of the fat. While Yoongi appreciated all parts of your body, your ass was his favorite. Genetics, exercise and a little bit of happy weight had all accumulated into jiggly ass he loved to squeeze and slap. When you met, you were pretty thin but in shape nonetheless. Fans speculated that you gained ‘happy relationship weight’ since Yoongi treats you right. Whatever the reason, he thanks the higher power every day for it.

You could feel the heat beginning to spark between you, along with Yoongi’s growing boner pressing against your panties. Now that you thought about it, it’s been a little while since you’ve been intimate. You and Yoongi have barely had any time for quickies, let alone a full session of sex. And you two could go for hours if you wanted. On the day of your engagement, you barely left the hotel room because you couldn’t keep your hands off him. How could you? He was your fiancé. Mmm, that word just got you hot and bothered.

Your hands ran up his neck and into his hair, scratching at his scalp. The low hum of contentment that came from him spurred you on. You brought your faces closer together, lips hovering before you trapped him in a kiss. He hummed again, lifting his head to kiss you deeper, hands still squeezing at your ass.

Your kiss grew more heady, both of your hands massaging each other and trying to stroke any piece of skin you could. Yoongi began pushing against you to make your roll your hips against him. His cock could probably cut glass from how hard he was. You always got him excited with barely doing anything. To be honest, he started getting hard the moment you entered the room. Just your presence got him feeling almost immediately horny.

And it was the same for you. Your cunt had began getting wet the moment Yoongi turned around in his chair. He just looked so comfortable and effortlessly sexy and the way his muscles strained against that shirt made your imagination run wild.

You pulled away to inhale a deep breath. “Yoongi….please…”

His lazy smirk sent a rush straight to your already wet pussy. “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

God he was such a tease but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t absolutely love it.

“I need you.”

That was all he needed before he moved to flip you onto your back. You bounced against the soft couch cushions, barely getting your bearings before he was back on you, pressing his lips to yours.

His large hands traveled up your dress, lifting it over your belly and breasts. He leaned back to get a look, letting out a groan at the absolute beauty under him.

Your chest was heaving from just a little kissing, your goddess locks spread out under you, glossed lips plump and ready for more. You were so gorgeous and he made sure to let you know.

You squirmed under the compliment, feeling giddy and a bit bashful. You always received compliments and the occasional catcall and while you accepted the respectful ones gracefully, none of those ever mattered to you. Yoongi’s praise and compliments put you on cloud 9 and you really believed him.

His hands traveled up your body to your breasts, eyes catching something under your bra. He pulled the annoying piece of fabric down and if he could get any harder, he probably would.

“Fuck. You’re wearing your piercings? Did you come here to try and kill me?” The little diamonds sparkled under the light. He remembers buying the jewelry for your birthday last year. He also remembers sucking the sensitive nipples until you were crying just an hour later.

You giggled, biting your lip. “Of course not.”

His smirk widened. “You little sneak.” His hands went to grope at the soft flesh, a sigh falling from your lips. His thumbs ran lightly over the stiff peaks, pulling more sighs and little squeaks from your lips. Your nipples had gotten so much more sensitive after piercings. Yoongi couldn’t be too rough on them when you first got them, being careful of your healing process. He could barely touch them without you gasping in the slight pain from healing. Of course, he never complained, understanding your pain so he just stopped touching them. He just didn’t think it would test his control so much; seeing you walk around without a shirt sometimes, the already silky and delectable breasts looking more appetizing from the little barbells. Months had passed along with many maintenance appointments before you announced that they could be touched without pain. With the pain gone, your sensitivity skyrocketed and with Yoongi’s skilled tongue beginning their assault, your pleasure had been taken to a new level.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and his mouth open to lick over your nipple. You let out a moan as his tongue swirled all around your piercing. He switched to the next one, giving it the same treatment.

The heat between your legs was becoming too much, your panties beginning to feel uncomfortable from how they were sticking to you.

“Yoongi….” You whined. His eyes lifted to lock on your flustered face, lips parted as puffs of air came through them, your eyes desperate and pleading for anything. Everything.

Reluctantly pulling away from your nipples, he helped you pull the dress from your body, tossing it somewhere in the room. Neither of you cared.

He kissed from your breasts to your tummy until he reached the apex of your thick thighs. You immediately dropped them open, revealing yourself to him. He groaned at your desperation but also at the sight of your soaked underwear. The thong barely covered anything, the baby blue fabric now dark from your arousal. It was practically leaking from you, the bottom of your ass shining. Kissing over the stretch marks that streaked down the inside of your thighs, he whispered words of praise to you.

“Fuck baby. You’re so fucking wet.” He couldn’t help himself, surging forward to suck on your clit through your panties. A shiver racked your body, your hands coming down to bury in his hair. The friction wasn’t as good with your panties still keeping his tongue from making direct contact with your clit but it was something. And it felt so good.

Your hips jerked against his face, trying to get more. His hands dug into the meat of your thighs, holding them open as his tongue licked at your clit.

More moans fell from your lips, pleasure causing your vision to go blurry. You felt so close already and he’s barely done anything. Blame it on you not having a proper orgasm for weeks. Your hands just didn’t feel the same and Yoongi had thrown out all of your vibrators once you two started having sex.

“You won’t need these anymore. All your orgasms should come from me.”

Now you were remembering why he threw them out in the first place. Only he could rip pleasure and orgasms from your body in seconds, playing your body like a piano.

Your hand came down your body, tapping against his forehead. He pulled away slightly, eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort. You really only stopped him when you were shaking in overstimulation and he knew you hadn’t even cum yet so why were you stopping him?

When he pulled back, you grabbed onto your panties, pulling them aside to reveal your fat and dripping pussy to him.

How the hell did he get so lucky? Did he save orphans in his past life or something? Not only had he managed to put a ring on a kind, generous, and absolutely amazing person who treated him like a King and opened up the deepest parts of him, he also managed to snag a submissive, slutty, and needy woman who could ride his cock for hours and bend in ways he’s only dreamed of.

There was no way.

Eyes darkening in lust, he dove back in to capture your clit, licking at it more furiously than before. The heat from his mouth made that pressure build in your lower belly, your toes curling from their position in the air. Your loud moans only pushed him further, shoving 2 fingers in your tight heat. Your slick walls gripped his fingers so tightly that he could barely move them.

“Y-Yoongi! I’m gonna-“

He curled his fingers up, pulling away from your clit to lean up close to your face, his breath hitting your cheeks. “You gonna cum? You’re such a good girl.” He pressed some kisses to your open mouth, fingers thrusting in and out of your in a superhuman pace, veins and muscles in his arms shifting and bulging from the exertion.

When your orgasm crashed, you swore all of your senses except touch disappeared. You couldn’t hear and your vision blurred from the tears that had welled in your eyes. But Yoongi didn’t stop.

Your hand flew down to grab at his wrist, back arching as he continued his assault, helping you ride the huge wave.

He pulled his lip between his teeth. You were so sexy.

Once you came down, he slowly pulled his fingers from your, the digits glistening in your release. He sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the taste. He just couldn’t get enough.

Now he wanted more. Standing from the couch, he pulled off his own shirt and pants, taking his briefs with them. His hard cock slapped against his stomach, red at the tip and practically pulsing.

You bit your lip, thighs squeezing together as your pussy throbbed. Fuck you were so wet.

He flopped back on the couch, patting his lap. “Come ride this cock, baby.”

Not needing to be told twice, you crawled over into his lap, taking your bra and ruined panties off on the way.

His hands gripped your ass once you were straddled on his hips. You could feel the heavy weight of his cock pressing on your ass and it filled you with excitement.

Reaching your hand back, you gripped his cock, pumping it a few times. He groaned, head falling back against the couch at your touch.

Delivering a sharp slap to your ass, he growled, “stop teasing.”

His deep and demanding voice sent shivers down your spine. Never one to disobey, you lifted your hips, lining up his cock with your entrance. You rubbed the tip over your opening to gather some of your wetness before you slowly began sinking down on him.

A moan came from both of you as his thick cock began splitting you open. Your walls were squeezing him so tight that he felt like he could cum right there but he refrained. He wasn’t even all the way inside yet.

Your mouth was dropped open as his cock stretched you open, head tossed back and eyes closed as you basked in the feeling. Each ridge and vein was pressing against you in the most delicious way, the slight curve pressing against that spot deep inside of you. You felt like you could cum again just like this.

Once your ass met his thighs, you both let out sighs. Not only from pleasure but from being able to be close like this. This is what you needed; this closeness, this union, this intimacy. Sex was so much more to you than just getting off. It bonded you and brought you closer than ever, love spilling over and intertwining your hearts and souls.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in for a sweeter and more sensual kiss.

“I love you…” you whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Your hips began rolling against him, slowly at first to get accumulated to the stretch. He assisted you with one hand on your ass and one on your hip.

Before long, you began raising your hips, falling back down on his lap. The low clapping sounds spurring you on.

Yoongi groaned against your lips. “That’s it, baby. Faster.” With another sharp slap to your ass that made you moan, you bounced faster. Your ass jiggled each time it connected with his thighs and a part of him wished he could see it but the blissed out look on your face was too good to pass up.

Unwrapping your arms from his neck, you leaned back to get that perfect angle, your hands landing on his knees. A squeak fell from you as his tip began bullying your soft spot. Your head fell back, mouth dropped open as that delicious feeling began building in the pit of your stomach.

“Ah! Yoongi! Your cock feels s-so good!” You felt drunk, mind hazy and awareness faded. All you could focus on was the feel of him under you and the way his perfect cock slipped in and out. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, electricity spreading all the way to your fingertips and making your toes curl.

Yoongi couldn’t take his eyes off you. He didn’t even know where to look; your breasts, face, where you were connected? He could see how your arousal was dripping down to wet his pubic hair, a ring of your wetness coating the base of his cock. You were truly was a sight to behold.

That pressure was building faster than you thought. Sliding your hand down your body, your fingers connected with your clit, rubbing the nub in fast circles.

“Yoongi!”

He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Your walls clenched and constricted around him, almost suffocating him. His hands rubbed at your nipples, flicking at the piercings. You were seeing stars, the stimulation was too much. His hands roaming you, your own fingers on your clit, and his cock inside of you was all too much.

That pressure…..

“I’m cumming!”

Your hips lifted from his cock, it falling out to slap against his stomach. Your fingers rubbed at your clit until some drips of liquid came out. The motion of your fingers caused the droplets to fly everywhere, some landing on the cushions as well.

Once you were done riding it out, he was flipping you back on the couch, head pressed into the cushions and ass up in the air. He delivered a few slaps to your ass, pulling some moans from your at the sting. Your head was swimming, the sudden movement making you a little dizzy but that dizziness quickly left when Yoongi entered you again.

His cock entered you in one swift motion, hips immediately working to push and pull against you. Your ass clapped back on his hips, the fat jiggling and rippling with every move. His own orgasm was just over the horizon.

“You are so fucking sexy.” Each word was punctuated by a thrust. “You come in here looking this good and then you bounce on my cock until you squirt? Why the fuck have I been spending all my time here when you’re at home?” He was really talking to himself. Only a true idiot would leave a hot piece of ass like this at home all day. And he must really be a true idiot, probably the dumbest man alive. But not anymore.

Your moans were rising in pitch. With this position, you could every inch, every curve, absolutely everything. You could barely breathe, your brain only being able to form utterances of his name and begs of faster and harder.

That feeling in Yoongi began cresting, balls drawing up as his orgasm washed over him. His hands gripped your hips and ass hard enough to bruise but you could care less. He could bruise you up all he wanted.

His orgasm spread from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, shuddering his whole body. “F-fuck….” He breathed out. That was probably the hardest orgasm he’s ever had in his life.

Your own breath began to even out. You thought that was the end but you were suddenly flipped around back on your back. Both of your legs were hiked up over his right shoulder, thighs pressing into your chest in Yoongi’s absolute favorite position.

“You think I’m done with you?” His smirk was teasing and it caused more arousal to drip from you. He reached his hand down to line himself up before pushing into your heat. A gasp came from your throat at the intrusion, your hands coming to grip at the back of his neck.

His hips set a brutal pace, balls wetly slapping against your ass.

“Oh my god! Y-Yoongi!”

It felt like he was in your throat, every thrust hitting you in all the right spots. Your nails scratched at his neck, the slight sting only pushing him harder. He could feel your walls tightening, a tell tale sign of your orgasm. Your breasts bounced with every push, dark nipples looking incredibly enticing.

“Cum, baby. That’s it.”

Your body seized up as your second orgasm full body absorbed you. Your vision spotted white and your ears were ringing.

But not even your orgasm made him stop or slow down. He pushed faster and harder, the squelching noises getting louder as more and more wetness spilled from you.

It was like your orgasm wouldn’t stop. Wave after wave came over you. Every nerve was lit on fire, your mouth dropped but no sound came out. He had taken every word from you.

When he felt you squirt on his cock again, he shoved his full cock inside. Your toes curled so hard that you could feel them crack, legs shaking but he held them tightly. Your hands smacked against his shoulders as the stimulation became too much. You were so full.

“Yoongi!”

“Take it. Take all that cock, baby.”

You had no choice but you didn’t care. You’d give up every choice if it meant he’d fuck you like this.

He rolled his hips against yours a few more times before his own orgasm washed over him. He groaned into your throat, a full body shudder racking his body.

Lifting his head, he connected your lips in a soft kiss, a complete turn from what just went down. You hummed against his lips, hands roaming his soft skin.

He moved your legs from his shoulders, massaging your slightly sore muscles as you kissed. You both let out small moans as he pulled out of your heat, his cum flowing out of you.

Yoongi helped you clean yourself up, giving you a large elastic to tie up your hair. The sweat would definitely make your roots curl back up but that was a problem for another day. You put your dress back on as Yoongi pulled his shirt and pants back on. Your underwear found themselves tucked into his back pocket. A little silly considering he had endless access to you pussy but you guessed it was some man thing.

When Yoongi went back to his computer, leaning over the chair to click at some things, you visibly deflated, mood dampening. Was he really going back to work? You guessed you did just come to drop off food, the sex was a bonus and you did say you would leave afterwards. You just couldn’t help but feel a little sad and used. Yoongi was the king of aftercare, always running you a bath or giving you cuddles as you two calmed down from lovemaking. It’s not like this one moment would make you think Yoongi didn’t care but you did feel a little defeated.

Gathering your things, you were about to approach the door but Yoongi’s voice stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t turn to face him, feeling a little embarrassed. “Home. Aren’t you going back to work?”

A snort came from him. “Of course not.”

You gasped when his body pressed against your back, also the feeling of his boner was right on your ass.

“Yoongi….”

“You really think I’m about to work and let you go home so you can wash my cum out of you? I’m fucking you until you can’t walk.”

Maybe you should come to the studio more often.

#bts fic #bts #yoongi studio sex #yoongi x reader #bts smut #bts x black reader #jimin smut #namjoon smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #jungkook smut #taehyung smut #yoongi smut #Yoongi imagine

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its-time-to-write · 9 months

Text

in love with an idea

This is a very, very, v e r y minor study in the way that Jamie handles his sexuality, and the fact that sometimes it seems he thinks his only value comes from being sexy and playing football. And the fact that sometimes, one night stands are crap even if they feel good. It happens. Especially if you go home with someone wishing they were someone else. Anyway, I have another fic in the works, should be posted soon. I’ve been absent because I’m writing a long one that will never ever see the light of day because it is way too self indulgent. As if this next one isn’t going to be long and self indulgent as well. Thanks to all y’all who support my writing!! Those of you who leave comments/tags have my whole entire heart, and there is no such thing as too many comments. Special shoutout to @whimsical-roasting and @qquell bc you’re probably my biggest/most vocal supporters and I love you🥺🥺 Ok that’s enough words, enjoy the fic!

in love with an idea

Jamie feels like shit which is weird, because he doesn’t usually feel this way after hookups. He can tell you don’t notice because you just plop down on the locker room bench next to him and ask, “Did ya call your mum yet?” while grinning far too brightly.

Jamie is going to throw up. You’re smiling at him and he’s going to throw up so he gets up and rushes out of the room without a word. He pretends that he left so fast that he didn’t see your grin fade.

He’s headed to the pitch because that’s where he’s supposed to be anyway, but all he can think about is the fact that it should have been you in his bed last night. After all, it was your name that had been on the tip of his tongue all night. It was your face he kept thinking of, and your body he was imagining.

The girl had left satisfied, knowing exactly what she had signed up for, but he still feels like he used her. It’s not her fault that he’s in love with you but took her home, and yet it feels bad anyway. He wonders why no one ever talks about the shitty side of one-night stands. He has a vague recollection of Roy saying something to that effect one time, but other than that, he’s in completely unfamiliar territory.

He throws himself into training with more vigor than usual, purposely running himself ragged.

Meanwhile, you’re still on the bench looking stupefied. Isaac slides next to you in the spot Jamie vacated.

He says, “You should probably check on him,” with his usual solemn gravitas so you nod and decide to do just that.

—

You don’t have time check on Jamie until after training. Ted has you running all around Nelson Road so you just barely catch Jamie in the parking lot.

“Hey!” you call. “You alright?”

Jamie spins around, icon hat atop damp hair. “Yeah, sure, good, yeah!” he says, and now you’re absolutely positive that something’s wrong. You raise an eyebrow.

“That totally sounds like something a completely alright person would say, but for some reason I don’t believe you. Is something wrong with your mum? Is that why you got all weird when I asked?��

“What?” Jamie says. “Oh. No. She’s good, yeah. She’s good. I did call her. Talked for a while, which was nice. Talked about this girl I like, actually.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Jamie wishes he could sink into the ground. Fuck his stupid rambling.

“Oh?” you say, eyebrow still quirked. “That’s new.”

Jamie shrugs. “Yeah, it is,” he says and then his mouth betrays him once again as he continues, “I’m actually really nervous about talking to her.”

You laugh. That is utterly ridiculous, and you tell him so. “You’re Jamie fucking Tartt, Premier League footballer. People throw themselves at you every day and you eat all that attention up. Why is she so different? Hold on, are you blushing?”

You laugh. He totally is, but he denies it.

“Look,” he says. “She ain’t like a lot of people. She’s fucking…smart or some shit. Not that other people aren’t!” he continues, “But she’s just… different, like. She’s one of fucking… four people who are immune to my natural sexy glow.”

The way Jamie says the word sexy is always interesting because he never used it comedically. It’s always inserted in some serious declaration of himself, as if that and football are the only points of value he believes he has. You wrinkle your nose. “How is that possible? No one is immune. Except maybe Roy. I heard he got his anti-Tartt vaccine boosted last week. Maybe it worked a little too well,” you say worriedly.

“I dunno,” Jamie says. “She said she’s looking for someone smart and I don’t really think I fall in that category. All brawn on me, innit?”

He quirks a smile to mask this strange discomfort he has. You’re not used to seeing him anything less than confident.

“Well Jaim,” you say after a beat, “as someone who is also looking for someone ‘smart,’ it really isn’t about IQ. It’s like… it’s like someone who actually talks to you and has interesting things to say. And is interested in learning, not just from me but from whoever and whatever. And someone who doesn’t talk down. Because, god,” you laugh, “I’ve been on so many dates that are just exhausting because all these smart people want to flex their knowledge instead of sharing it. It’s like a fucked-up power struggle. I never feel that way with you, y’know?”

Jamie tilts his head in a cocky go on type of way.

There he is.

You roll your eyes. “What I mean is, you actually listen to what I say and ask questions, and aren’t rude when I don’t understand something that comes easy to you. My corner kicks are getting better, by the way,” you interject. “Sunday evening practice is paying off.” Jamie comes over every Sunday evening to kick a ball around with you on the Richmond Green.

“Of course they are,” he grins. “Learning from the best, aren’t you?” You flip his hat off his head and catch it, returning his smile.

“Just ask her out, Jaim. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And,” you add, “bring her round! Not enough footballer girlfriends around here.”

Jamie looks at you a moment, taking in the picture of you in Nelson Road’s parking lot, his cap on you head and a smile on your face that he made.

“Right,” he says, then turns to walk to his car. He’s at the door when he turns and walks back.

“Forgot something,” he says to your bemused expression. You point to his hat still on your head.

“Nope,” he shakes his head. “That ain’t it. It’s you. You’re the girl. I talked to me mum about you because I think you’re fucking great. If I’m not your type, that’s alright, but fuck it, I just really fucking like you.”

He takes a step closer. “I’m going to kiss you, so now’s your chance to walk away.”

You don’t.

You let him flip the icon hat backwards and cup your face in his hands, far more gently than you thought him capable of as he tips your head up to his.

His lips are soft on yours, and you’re vaguely aware of the fact that Trent Crimm is walking by you, shooting furtive looks your way but you don’t care.

“I think you’re fucking great too,” you reply when you finally come up for air.

Jamie grins. “Wanna go on a proper date tonight? Been thinking about where I’d take you for ages. I can pick you up in an hour thirty.”

You smile.

That sounds great.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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writeandsurvive · 6 months

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Hi. I’ve been reading your work and it’s been sooo funny. It’s my first time asking for fic. Could you write a fic where Gibbs and reader is in the secret relationship in the bullpen. And one day they’re having breakfast or lunch or anything and they’re cute, sweet, and so in love each other and then being caught on the scene by someone in the bullpen.

Thank you so much for good works!

Hello anon, thank you for the request and your kind words, it means so much to me ❤️ I hope this is what you were looking for!

Busted ~ Jethro Gibbs

It's not easy to give a relationship secret, but it's even worse when it happens in the workplace, and the people you're the closest with are all trained investigators. However, you and Gibbs have been doing a great job at hiding it. It's a lot thanks to him, to be honest; the man has one hell of a self control and when he puts his mind into something, he never fails.

Most of the times you were almost caught was because you couldn't keep your hands off of the man you love. A stolen kiss here, a lingering hand there. The closest to being busted happened when a lawyer was clearly hitting on Gibbs, and your jealousy went over the roof. You trust Gibbs more than anyone, you know he'd never do something like that, but seeing this woman being too comfortable with your man, touching his arm, and giving him flirty looks, that was hard to handle.

However, it led to the first time Gibbs allowed himself to let go in the office. Noticing how jealous you were getting, he got you to follow him to autopsy, taking the elevator and shutting it down. He immediately grabbed you and kissed you intensely. Then he looked deep into your eyes, silently asking if you got the message. You smiled and nodded. Gibbs was a man of a few words after all.

Weekends off were a very rare thing for the team, so when the boss said 'see you on Monday' by Friday night, it was a race to the parking lot. Obviously, a few minutes after you got home, Gibbs let himself in and you immediately jumped into his arms. "An entire weekend, just you and me?"

"Why else would I let everyone go this early?" He kissed you.

After spending the Friday night at your place, ordering takeouts and simply relaxing together, you went to his place on Saturday. Gibbs feels more comfortable there, and he likes to work on his boat while you're reading a book in the armchair he specifically brought into the basement for you.

But Gibbs wanted to spoil you. He knows he's not the most outgoing and adventurous man, and there's this tiny voice in his mind that keeps telling him you're gonna get bored of him and the relationship. So, he used all of his computer skills to search for the best and fanciest restaurants in Washington. He wished he could've asked McGee for this, but how would he explain it? 'I want to take my girlfriend on a fancy date, and spoil her the way she deserves, cause I'm afraid she'll get bored and leave me. Also, my girlfriend is someone you love like your own sister.'

It was a nightmare to do this research, but Gibbs was satisfied with himself when he found the perfect place to take you.

"Your burgundy dress is still here, right?" He asked, joining you after he took a random shower.

"I think so, why?"

He kissed your forehead. "Go get ready, we're going out."

"You're kidding? Where are we going?"

"Surprise."

You excitedly got up from the couch. "Okay, but I need to take a shower too!"

He looked at his watch. "You got an hour, good enough?"

"Yes sir!" You quickly pecked his lips and rushed upstairs.

You don't remember the last time you got into a fancy restaurant like this, you kinda felt out of place. But it was amazing to see Gibbs being this romantic with you, holding doors, pulling out the chair, he even ordered your first alcohol drink, for the both of you instead of going with a beer or bourbon. "You're spoiling me," you shyly smiled. "And you look extra handsome tonight. I still love the polo shirts and hoodies though."

"You deserve to be spoiled." He grabbed your hand and brought it to his lips. "Had to clean up nice so people don't wonder why the hell you're doing with me, more than they already do, at least."

It was amazing. The food was exquisite, the conversation flew smoothly between you, and Gibbs kept complimenting you, and not just physically. He hinted several times how lucky he felt that you were with him, loving him and standing by his side no matter what. "Jethro," you looked at your joint hands on the table before getting lost in his wonderful blue eyes. "You don't have to do this to make me happy. I'm happy as long as I'm with you."

He stayed silent for a moment, processing what you were saying and looking for the right answer. When he opened his mouth to answer, a voice came out from behind you. "Boss! Wow, fancy seeing you here!" Tony DiNozzo. Great. You couldn't get out of this, could you? "Who's your da--" he reached the table, and finally laid eyes on you.

"Hi Anthony," you teased. "Didn't recognize me from behind? That's offensive from you."

Tony kept looking between you and Gibbs, mouth open. "I think he's having a stroke." You joked to Gibbs, who softly chuckled. He had accepted that the cat was out of the bag.

"DiNozzo, you gonna keep standing here or let us go back to our date?" Gibbs asked.

"I, um, wow. I got some many questions." Gibbs gave him his famous, which got Tony to solely look at you. "I got many questions." He said, lower.

"I can still hear you, DiNozzo, and most importantly, I can still see you."

You nodded to Tony with a smile, silently telling that you'll indulge his curiosity.

"Well," you laughed after Tony was finally gone. "I guess we're no longer in a secret relationship."

#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs imagine #gibbs fanfic #gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis x reader #ncis fanfiction #tony dinozzo

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etoroma · 7 months

Text

“You were losing me inch by inch when you were leaving me alone to meet the dawns”

Jack Harlow x fem!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend became cold and distant, he just doesn’t see you anymore. How long can you last? Disclaimer: English is not my first language and lately I've started to forget it, so I decided to write stories to practice. I really love and respect your language so I apologize if I’ve made a lot of mistakes, I will try my best! Feel free to give feedback and correct mistakes A/N: it’s my first imagine hope it’s not that bad✊🏻😔 Warnings: language, angst, open ending Word count: 1986

“I’m positive that I’ve made the right decision, but not a day passes that I don’t wish I’ve made a different choice”. You were laying on a grass in your best friend’s backyard, your fingers and legs intertwined, eyes closed, wind was gently playing with your hair but the pleasure of such an intimate moment that you’ve missed for so long is overshadowed by past events.

Y/bf/n moved in a different country and you never managed to find time to visit her, you were too immersed in your relationships, work and daily routine that the best you could do was calling her once a week. Now when you were finally together, you feel extremely guilty for showing up only because you’re a wreck but both of you are too mature to make a big deal out of it.

“He left you no choice, Y/N” she sighed and squeezed your hand “It wasn’t even a choice…I mean..” y/bf/n let go of you and rolled over on her belly to find you trying your best to hold the tears since crying was the only thing you’ve been doing for the entire time of your stay.

“He took your hand in his and promised you to walk this vicious world by your side but instead he walked you to a blind alley and left you there alone. He knew about every apprehension of yours, how scared you was to even think about the relationships, but still he did everything to make you believe that he’ll become your safe space, your home, your man that can be trusted, that will always be there for you… He put you in a fairytale just to make you look crazy for thinking they exist. He made you vulnerable, Y/N”. She gently caressed your face studying your emotions. “And you know what pisses me off even more? That you still think that all of this is your fault”.

“You know what pisses me off even more?” you finally found the guts to look into her eyes “That I still love him, y/bf/n”.

*two weeks earlier*

4 am.

You stood leaning to a kitchen counter draining a bottle of wine that soon was thrown to a garbage. You were skimming the living room. Each corner, each piece of furniture held so many memories of the time you and Jack were crazy in love. It used to warm your heart but now the sight of your shared home shredded it into million pieces. You even refused to drink from glasses he brought you from Czech a couple years ago just because you mentioned you always wanted glasses made of Czech crystal in your dream house. These glasses were a reminder of his attentiveness to the smallest details that made you happy, now they are clear evidence that he could do anything for you but he just doesn’t want to anymore.

What did you do wrong? What did you do to deserve this type of treatment? Was there anything you could do to prevent it? Aren’t you enough? When coming home from a studio and hovering you in kisses turned to a kiss on a cheek with a face expression like this action takes a year of life from him?

You were taken out of your thoughts by the sound of keys. Wow…Your man of the night found his way home.

Tired sight.

Kiss on a cheek.

Pain in your chest.

And your favorite part “I’m going to bed. Night”.

He didn’t even noticed that you’re fully dressed. Well, there’s a plenty things he didn’t pay attention to and tonight he’ll have to acknowledge all of them. His loving girlfriend will help him, right? Right.

“Jack” no response. “Jackman!” you raised your voice. It was the first time you called him like that but you needed him to listen.

“Y/N, if you wanna make a scene you’ve picked the wrong time” he simply sighed and kept going upstairs.

“That’s the only time I’ve got! Fucking 3 minutes in the am before you go to bed and disappear before I wake up!” You could feel your blood boiling in your veins, just a few moments and you’ll be ready to whistle like a soviet kettle. “Why are you wasting my time like that? You think that you are an alfa kind of a man who’s in charge and keeps everything under his control but in fact you’re a wuss with a lack of guts to say straight to my face that you don’t love me anymore or cheating on me or both. But you have enough courage to act like a dick!”

Now you captured his attention.

He turned around on his heels with an explicit anger written on his face “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not cheating on you! Why are you always have to be such an attention seeker?” he rushed to you and only kitchen counter separated you both.

“Attention seeker? For real? Since when wanting the bare minimum of a relationship makes me an attention seeker?”

“Since I working my ass off for BOTH of us and have more important things than …”

“Than being with me?” you interrupted him holding eye contact

“That’s not what I wanted to say.. Fuck can’t you show care and support at least for once or you’re gonna explode once you do?”

“WHEN?” at this moment you’ve lost it. Understanding that he doesn’t see any problem in his behavior hits you. You’re done. Enough holding everything inside and pretend that nothing’s going on. For all these 3 months, you tried to convince yourself that you’re overreacting, that it’s your traumas are talking. Every day and night that you spent by your own you told yourself that he’s trying his best, he’ll make it up to you, he sees the problem but just can’t fix things yet, but you were wrong, delusional to be exactly.

“I see you for a couple of minutes and not even every day. All of my texts left on read, you NEVER text me back. I find out that you’re fine from Urban! Every time I try to talk to you, to check on you, to figure the reason you just brush me off telling me you don’t want to have this conversation and I’m too clingy”

Jack opened his mouth to fight back but you raised your pointing finger in front of you to shut him. There goes the hardest part. You’re about to say something that was too painful to even acknowledge but you have to open his eyes.

“So I gave you space, Jack. I was away for a whole week” once you said it your anger was replaced by stone cold sight. It’s like you had to say it out loud more for yourself to realize than for him to understand

“I texted you about it but the message wasn’t sent. When saw it, I got curious when you would notice that I was gone” looking at his puzzled face you gave him an ironic smile “you didn’t. That’s how you care”

“Y/N..Baby..I” oh your boy begins to understand how your monologue will end but you haven’t finished yet so you shut him up again

“When I came back, I packed my things but I was still hoping we’ll work things out so I decided to divide my stuff into several parts and transport each one after every failed conversation with you, after every night you left me alone, after every “why don’t you stop fucking my brain out and just let me sleep”…so” you took a step back pushing the suitcase out from behind the kitchen counter “you can guess that that’s my last one”

Jack looked at you terrified catching the air in attempts to say something. He nervously spun around to find with his eyes at least something that belongs to you in the living room but it was all in vain.

“Y/N..Please..” he returned his gaze to you “listen..I’m so sorry. Let me fix this mess I’ve created, please” his voice begin to shake, eyes blinking fast to stop the tears. He finally woke up and grasped what kind of treatment he was giving to you all these months. The realization of what you about to do made him freeze on a spot.

“Please give me the last chance, fight for us, baby please let’s talk things out” Panic began to slowly crawling towards him like a tsunami

“I gave you thousands chances. I was fighting for us alone for too long, it’s exhausting” you grab a suitcase handle walking to the front door “Now I’m tired and you’re the one who have picked the wrong time to make a scene”

“I don’t wanna lose you please let me make it up to you!” Jack ran outside after you watching you place your suitcase in a back of your car. You stopped for a second to look at him for the last time. Tears streaming down his cheeks, you could barely see in the dark but you could tell his face were bright red, lips shaking.

The sight of him made it even harder to leave, you wanted to kiss him so bad, you wished you could forgive him, hold him, believe him… but you remember how many nights you’ve spent in a state he is in now. You can’t let him do it to you again. You don’t trust him anymore.

“You haven’t figured it yet? You’ve already lost me. You were losing me inch by inch when you were leaving me alone to meet the dawns. It’s too late, Jackman” you got in the car just to find Jack knocking your window. You tried so hard to ignore him and focus but gave up and lowered the car window, which Jack immediately clung to

“Listen I know I’m an asshole. I fucked everything up, I was the worst boyfriend and I understand why you wanna leave, but I’ll change. I’ll do anything to make you trust me again, because I love you. I don’t see anyone else by my side, only you! Forgive me please, let me explain and fix this, I love you so bad it hurts” you squeezed the steering wheel holding your emotions and trying to think straight. You loved him still but the wound on your heart is still too fresh and deep for you to change your decision.

“Well…You have really weird ways to show it” and with this words you escaped from his life.

He watched your car getting out of his sight and couldn’t believe that it wasn’t just a nightmare. Well, actually, it was. but he is living in it now. It was his personal hell that made him reliving this night over and over again. You’re gone. You’re not his woman anymore.

*present time*

“I know girl, it takes time, but I swear” Y/bf/n genially smiled at you playing with your hair “one month with your hot, EXTREEEEEMLY cool, UNBELIIIIEVABLY hilarious and adventurous friend and you won’t remember his name!” you were laughing for the first time in a while at your friend’s silliness when a doorbell caught your attention

“C'mon! I’ve already forgot it! Jake? Check?” Y/bf/n was so existed to see you smile that haven’t heard anything

“Firstly, Check is not even a name and secondly, are you expecting someone?”

“Aha, triplets. Don’t know who their dad is though it was a rough night” you laughed again and pushed her slightly

“Stop fucking with me, I heard the doorbell” You knew that it’s impossible. You blocked him everywhere and he didn’t know anything about y/bf/n, but something deep inside of you made you think it was him.

“Oh, it must be Mary, my neighbor, she’s an old lady and gets lonely sometimes so she comes to talk” y/bf/n stood up and headed to the front door “I’ll be quick”

__________________________ p.s i wanted to give this story an open ending for you to decide whether he found you or it was just a neighbor and your story is over. But now I'm thinking of doing part 2. What do you think? Should I? Do you forgive this cute asshole?

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow imagines #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow blurbs #jackharlow #jack harlow x y/n #jack harlow drabble #jack harlow angst #jack harlow x you #jackman thomas harlow #jackman harlow

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fatuismooches · 2 years

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Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die.

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes.

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes, Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you.

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay. They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon… I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person…

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something?

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss.

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

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