#I''m still not sure how a horse works. but I'm getting there.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I saw @qourmet's young madam lan art, and knew what I had to do.

#better drawn mdzs #mdzs #lan furen #horse #we need to name her horse IMMEDIATELY #Qingheng-Jun #She is stunning and beautiful and the design has me in a death grip #AND she's a horse girl? It was not even and option to not draw her. #Lan wangji has to get his biting and tearing and killing genes from somewhere. #Its maternal. He inherited the hunting instinct from his mother and an attraction to people who do crimes from his father #btw if yall haven't seen them; All of qourmet's prev generation designs are *so* good. I have genuinely gotten brainrot over CSSR and WCZ. #On every god that exists I WILL find a way to have them show up in the pd-mdzs comic canon. I've already scripted the comics. Its happening #Also it's been too long since I drew an equine. Why are there not *more* equines in MDZS. This is why I had to make the equineswap au. #I''m still not sure how a horse works. but I'm getting there. #Slowly I am creeping towards the necessary skill set I need to draw Qiyan Agula. #JQWS audio drama....I am gazing at you so fondly. I will return to you with power and strength (better comic skills to draw you) #we are a long way away but...that's the dream project.

[akoyaxs]

Tì'eylan ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Word Count: 16k ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) ✮ A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>﹏<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3

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Never in a million years would you have suspected that you’d end up close friends with Aonung.

When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Lo’ak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awa’atlu.

All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.

You weren’t sure if it was Neteyam’s near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the “pretty traitor” as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.

Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.

It was a little rough, but of course he didn’t mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure – so much so you were practically drowning in it – but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.

“Thank you.”

Your whisper – feeble and weak even to your own ears – would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of na’vi’s superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.

“Yep.”

And that had been just that.

No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.

You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.

It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the other’s life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.

Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.

You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldn’t tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. It’s not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.

Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Olo’eyktan – something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.

It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandora’s biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you aren’t entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.

“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of me myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. Lie.

But you weren’t about to admit the truth – that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.

“And what do you keep in that little book of yours then?” Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.

You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. He’s sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.

“What book?” you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.

“You know,” he snickers. “The one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-”

“If you ever read that Aonung,” you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? You’re an adult! “I swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.”

Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.

“If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And finally he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.

“What’s up with him?” Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonung’s fading back, which is unmistakably tense. “What did you do to him?”

“He just found out about my romping around,” you shrug. “And he-”

“He what?” Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. “Oh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?”

“Yes…?” you say slowly, confused why she’s so shocked. “He’s my friend.”

“So is Lo’ak, so is Neteyam,” Kiri points out. “But you aren’t telling them that you’re going around with-”

“That’s different,” you say quickly. “Lo’ak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung… is not.”

“Right,” Kiri says unconvinced.

There’s an awkward moment of silence in which she’s clearly waiting for you to say more.

“He’s infuriating,” you finally burst out.

“Yes he is,” Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally can’t take it anymore.

“Fine!” you snap, face flushed. “He’s absolutely irritating in every way, and now he’s suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE AREN’T EVEN A THING-”

“Are you sure about that?” Rotxo grins from the other side. “Just think about the way he acts when you’re around.”

“Annoying and cocky?” you huff, but you know what he means.

“Come on,” Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, “don’t tell me you’re this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?”

“That’s not a word,” you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.

“Okay enough,” Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. “No more obliviousness.”

“Where are you taking me?” you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.

“To get you changed,” she says carelessly. “We’re going out.”

Aonung wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.

You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadn’t know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure – barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awa’atlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing – that you were his.

But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.

The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.

On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.

He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasn’t the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.

But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.

They were Aonung’s people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.

They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.

Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?

Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he can’t be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldn’t smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.

So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?

They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and he’s not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. He’s already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why – when he sees you next, across the fire at a party – Aonung doesn’t take any chances.

It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach – cool in the clear night breeze – is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.

“What were you thinking?” he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friend’s arm to face him. “Why is she here?”

“Kiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,” Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friend’s continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.

“I thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?” Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. “But now you bring her here?”

Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonung’s hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.

“And what is so terrible about her being here?” Rotxo counters. “She’s been hanging around the village for ages, she’s been to these parties before. What’s your problem now?”

Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is – what Aonung’s deal is, why he cares, why his gaze can’t seem to stop drifting towards you, but he’s waiting for the words to be spoken.

Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.

Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.

You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.

He didn’t quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that na’vi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.

He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.

It’s hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.

You’ve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh… cress… dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonung’s heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.

It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonung’s view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. It’s wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he can’t pull away from his view.

He had always known tawtute bodies were different to na’vi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but he’d always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.

But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.

You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.

Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.

And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what he’s doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, he’s beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.

Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away – the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.

“What are you doing here?” Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.

“Same as you,” you shrug. “I’m here to have fun.”

Aonung is not happy to hear that.

His glare moves straight to Kiri, who’s watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he won’t have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.

But he can’t think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then you’d doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he can’t just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.

From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonung’s pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.

Just as he thinks maybe it’ll be over – that no one will bother you anymore – people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the na’vi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.

And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.

So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log you’ve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiri’s slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.

Kiri certainly doesn’t miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you don’t notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.

You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.

Yet when some stupid warrior – Tsu’kae, Aonung thinks his name is – blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?

Slowly so he doesn’t attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, you’re closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.

When you finally notice Aonung’s stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.

Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.

“Yeah,” he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isn’t exactly easy to scare off any other guys when he’s already about to explode just having you this close.

He feels slightly stupid; you’re watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, he’s watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.

It’s only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsu’kae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, he’s on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.

With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm – the one caging you beside him – sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so you’re gently slid along the long till you’re pressed against his solid side.

You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsu’kae finally makes his way besides you.

“May I sit here?” he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.

Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.

Unfortunately, Tsu’kae misses Aonung’s glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsu’kae can join you.

The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.

“Sure,” he rumbles to Tsu’kae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasn’t expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.

Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonung’s reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsu’kae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonung’s plain message – you cannot have her.

Yet maybe Aonung didn’t completely think this plan through.

You’d never sat on his lap before, and although he’d often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate you’d be against him, this was completely different.

He can feel everything about you. Your thighs – almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass – are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.

And he can smell you. It’s warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. There’s something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.

He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck – your soft hair falling around him – and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.

It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsu’kae. To remind himself that it isn’t just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.

You’re finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like there’s a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.

Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.

Eywa, he really didn’t think this through.

Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart – never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.

But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called “friend” is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.

What if you think he’s some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Lo’ak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?

Fuck.

From the corner of his eye – Aonung’s too scared to move enough to properly turn his head – he can see Tsu’kae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.

Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friend’s lap, you’re starting to settle back. You’ve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.

Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back – nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing – is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.

The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell you’re wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you won’t notice how he’s breathing in your scent.

But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isn’t getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Tsu’kae offers after a moment of tense silence that you don’t seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just don’t pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, shifting to give him a little smile.

A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsu’kae’s face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.

Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.

There’s a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.

“Do you mind?” you grumble. “If you’re going to try cockblocking me, at least don’t nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.”

Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didn’t notice. Eywa, he’s never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.

 “I’m not trying to cock block you,” he says instead, and you scoff.

“Please,” you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. “You really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.”

“I am not,” Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesn’t understand. “Besides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsu’kae.”

“Really?” you say coolly. Aonung suddenly can’t picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though you’re trying to make it even, hiding whatever you’re actually thinking right now. “And what is so terrible about Tsu’kae?”

“He’s dim-witted,” Aonung points out. “Slow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-”

“Ah yes,” you interrupt, “everything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.”

“And he’s obviously just horny,” Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsu’kae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.

“So someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?” you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. “There’s nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?”

“No,” Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words – ones that don’t give away his own… excitement. “There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Who said anything about there being something wrong with me?” you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he can’t quite make out.

“No one- nothing- what?” Aonung stammers, confused at why you’re suddenly so upset. “You are just far too good for Tsu’kae. He does not deserve your time.”

“Then who does?” you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still don’t pull away from your seat in his lap. “What about Sokzu-”

“He is arrogant,” Aonung shoots the idea down.

“What about Ta’ru-”

“Incompetent,” Aonung interrupts again.

“Or Kayo-”

“Lazy-”

“Zäki?”

“Seriously,” Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. “Do you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?”

Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what you’re thinking.

“What are you trying to say, Aonung?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

You’re still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He can’t look away.

“I brought you unilpay,” a voice interrupts.

You both turn to see Tsu’kae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he’s drunk now, and Aonung doesn’t fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.

Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsu’kae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, “Would you like to come for a walk, tawtute?”

Instantly, Aonung’s blood has turned to ice. He doesn’t even look at you before snapping, “She’s good.”

Tsu’kae’s face falls in a small frown, and he, – stupidly – drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he slurs. “I was talking to her.”

“And I gave you an answer,” Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. “She’s not going to go anywhere with you.”

Again, Tsu’kae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.

“And what are you going to do to stop her?” he leers. “If she wants to come?”

“Do you want to go?” Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. You’re all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsu’kae who scowls.

“Of course she want-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you want to go with him?”

Your lips part. You don’t seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsu’kae’s drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.

“Come on taw-”

You’re no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than he’s on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsu’ake’s jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.

“Let her go,” Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.

It’s a little awkward, and you’re wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and you’re struggling to free yourself.

“Now,” Aonung adds.

Reluctantly, Tsu’kae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonung’s heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.

“Touch her again,” Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, “and I kill you.”

Tsu’kae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t shift in the slightest, and Tsu’kae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsu’kae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.

“Pathetic,” Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. “You actually thought you’d get to have time with her.”

Tsu’kae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonung’s cheek. It isn’t particularly painful,  but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where he’s met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. You’re still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsu’kae’s laughable punch. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you don’t feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.

When he drops you off at your marui, it’s with a strange ache in his chest.

You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong na’vi alcohol is to you, and before you know what’s happening, he’s turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.

“Here,” he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. “Drink this before you sleep.”

“You’re looking after me,” you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.

“Well, I didn’t go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,” Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. “Eywa, you’re just going to have to sleep in this.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.

Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him – and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.

Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, “Just get some sleep.”

You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure there’s water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.

Aonung turns back. You don’t say anything, just continuing to stare at him. It’s a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Aonung doesn’t reply, just giving you a soft smile.

It’s not until Aonung’s back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.

It’s filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment – the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap – his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.

This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he can’t help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.

Eywa, just the thought of you at that party – hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one that’s now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.

Fuck.

Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. It’s just to take the edge off. It doesn’t mean anything.

Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.

But he can’t bring himself to process all the copious issues of what he’s doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.

There’s a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.

Ones in which you’re squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where you’re arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.

When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.

There’s something just so filthy about this.

You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?

Even so, he can’t help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then he’s speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.

Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.

His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.

Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much… more.

Your words come to cross his mind again; “Why would people be attracted to me?”

The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.

But that wasn’t entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.

His little friend.

That same blazing shame doesn’t go away after a restless nights’ sleep.

Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he can’t bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, it’s just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, he’s met with you.

“Morning!” you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that you’ve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. “Tsireya’s forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.”

Aonung’s about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.

“You will go swimming?” he asks dubiously.

“Yup.”

And that does it.

Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that it’s Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.

You’re chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.

You’ve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you aren’t hiding as much of your body as you typically do.

The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top you’re wearing – a simple white tank – is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.

The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.

When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.

You don’t follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.

Oh.

Fuck.

You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.

Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.

After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonung’s sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.

But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. “Should- uh – should we get in?”

You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesn’t watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesn’t need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.

He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean – especially beside na’vi – slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that you’re not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isn’t going to complain.

You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.

After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sully’s, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you can’t reach the bottom).

“You good there?” he grins, wading over to you.

“Yep,” you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.

“Need a hand?” he snickers. “You look like you’re having a little trouble. Do yo-”

“Just get over here skxawng,” you grumble.

The moment he’s in arms reach, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you – your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.

“You know,” Kiri says with delicate mirth, “we should be heading back soon, right Ro?”

“Yeah,” Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. “You coming Neteyam?”

“We’ll come too,” Tsireya grins, tugging Lo’ak along behind her.

You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why they’re leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.

Tsireya has to give Lo’ak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boys’ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.

“Are you alright?” Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.

And suddenly, he notices something.

There’s none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, you’re just staring at him with complete and utter… something.

Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and na’vi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but you’re just completely unreadable.

Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. You’re inches away.

He clears his throat.

No no no.

Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.

There is something different. Something off.

And there’s a sinking feeling that tells him things just won’t go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.

It’s green.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement.

“What for?” you reply quietly.

“For causing a little scene,” Aonung says quietly.

He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.

“Right.”

“And cutting you off,” he adds in a mumble.

He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.

You don’t reply. He still doesn’t risk a glance at you.

“And for upsetting you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.

“I’m not upset,” you say quietly.

Aonung turns to look at you. You’re also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.

“You aren’t?” he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.

“Nope,” you sigh, wearily popping the p. “It’s just- um… why did you do it?”

“Do what.”

“The whole thing,” you say, gesturing in front of you. “Of protecting me and making sure I didn’t make a mistake. Plus the… the um…”

Aonung stares in disbelief. He’s never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.

“The whole kill him if he touches me thing,” you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.

It’s Aonung’s turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.

“You are small,” Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. “And delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-”

“I am not weak,” you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.

That’s who he was – he protected you, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.

Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.

You must have noticed how those words hit him – how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.

“Aonung?” you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No,” he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you whisper. At Aonung’s bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. “At least - you could never convince me.”

“Fine,” Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that there’s no going back.

He knows you know something’s wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else – something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.

“They are not fit for you, tsawksyul.”

You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if it’s because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.

“Then who is?” you say dully.

“Not anyone here,” Aonung tells you.

Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. It’s strange really, that he’s gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly… fluffy he feels right now.

But apparently you aren’t finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.

“So… I don’t get anyone,” you say.

Aonung isn’t stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.

“Right,” you snap.

“Have I upset you?” Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though it’s made of jelly.

“Nice observation sherlock,” you huff. “You’d want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I don’t fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that you’d be that much better?”

No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonung’s body betrays him – reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.

“Well…” he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. “Yes?”

“And why is that,” you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. “You really think you’re that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that you’re the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.”

Aonung’s brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.

“No!” he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. “I’m sorry-”

“You know,” you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, “I thought you weren’t like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I – as an adult woman by the way – was not some little … celibate fucking nun!”

“In what way?” Aonung asks, confused.

You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.

“Are you fucking serious?” you snap. “You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be… UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass I’ve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aonung says, frowning.

“Well there obviously fucking is if I love you!”

You freeze. So does he.

Your words – irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.

The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.

Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, you’ve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasn’t said anything, and even though he can see that’s breaking you, he just isn’t able to speak. “Please… say something skxawng.”

Silence.

“Oh god,” you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m just going to-”

“I love you too.” 

“Please just forget- wait what?”

There’s a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.

Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. He’s vaguely aware of his heart thumping – so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it – but he can’t summon any thoughts into his brain.

“Since when,” you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadn’t been na’vi, if he hadn’t been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.

“Since fucking forever,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.”

“Just because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,” you scoff, “does not make me a genius in comparison.”

“So we’re just two little lovestruck idiots, then?”

“Guess so.”

There’s a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonung’s head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.

When he catches you, he’s sure he’ll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.

“God, I love you.”

Aonung doesn’t even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.

Fuck.

Eywa.

How had he managed to go this long without this.

All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. There’s something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that you’re melting on his tongue.

Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.

Well, good riddance.

Aonung’s hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.

You’re making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.

When he’d imagined this – during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock – you’d been different. Sometimes you’d be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others you’d be desperate and ravenous and impatient.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.

He’s so hard he thinks he might actually die, but he’ll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.

When he’s worried you’re quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.

As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand – splayed out to hold you up – spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.

Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses he’s shared in his lifetime, that’s never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.

“You good?” you smile against his lips, but he suspects it’s more of a smirk. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. It’s an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.

You’re still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he can’t read your expression. He thinks for a moment you’re going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.

“Let’s get back,” you breathe exultantly.

“Why-”

“Because I don’t really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,” you grin.

“So we’re going to fuck?” Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.

“Up to you,” you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. “I mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-”

You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.

He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight – you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.

He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.

You laugh – sweet and clear and loud – as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. There’s barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.

When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if he’s in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.

He’s extremely pleased to note you’re already starting to smell like him – a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isn’t about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.

And then he can’t stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.

You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then he’s lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.

And then he does it again. And again – adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesn’t know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but he’ll make sure you know that you’re his.

“Aonung,” you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. “Aonung!”

“Yes?” he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.

“Not yet tsawksyul,” he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. “You are not ready yet.”

“Yes I am,” you snap, scowling at him. “I’ve taken na’vi men before, just-”

“Patience,” he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.

You look like you’re about to shout at him when Aonung’s hand leaves your face and finds it’s way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then you’re nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.

Fuck.

His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one he’s been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, he’d prefer this heaven over anything else.  His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.

“Do you want this tsawksyul?” he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Ye- yes,” you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.

“Are you sure,” he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. “We can do something else- we don’t have to-”

“No!” you gasp, eyes widening at those words. “No- I want this.”

“You have to tell me,” Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, “if you don’t like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe, and he grins.

When he finally dives between your legs, it’s without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.

He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction – accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp – he can guess you hadn’t been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.

He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.

Fuck yes.

He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair – curls and kuru and all – and you tug.

Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.

But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. You’re already squirming and gasping for breath – only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and don’t stops.

He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when you’re making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure – the sounds and taste and scent of it – is nearly tipping him over the edge.

He can tell you’re close, and that’s what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.

He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing you’d feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.

When he knows you’re about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.

You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.

It’s only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.

He isn’t sure why that’s what does it – though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips – but then he’s also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.

But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, it’s a marvel it hadn’t happened earlier.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.

“A- Aonung,” you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.

His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, “Open these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.”

He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before he’s diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you – stubborn as ever – continue the struggle of attempting speech, “You-”

“Just one more,” he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.

You’re whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of don’t stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.

Aonung’s moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.

All that exists is you. You’re so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.

His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge he’s working.

It isn’t exactly best-friendly; the thoughts he’s having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.

“Aonung!” you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. “you need- slow down - ‘s too much.”

“You’re doing so well,” he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.

Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.

Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.

Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.

“God- Aonung!”

Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.

“Oh my…” you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. “Oh my god- I’m so sorry.”

Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.

“Aonung?” you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.

“Mm?” he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.

“Care to fuck me now?”

Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.

“Are you sure?” he questions gently. “I mean you just-”

His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to – tortuously slowly – pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when you’ve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.

A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.

He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike na’vi, and he’s never been gladder that your aren’t just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.

With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesn’t miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.

The second you’re balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though it’s what you need to live. He’s a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.

Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.

“Oh baby,” you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. “Was this all for me?”

Before he can answer – though he doesn’t think he’d even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him – your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.

“Take these off.”

“Are you su-” Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.

“Yes,” you whisper impatiently. “It’s not fair that I’m here all naked and you still get clothes.”

“I’m basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,” he protests.

“What, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,” you snap, and he knows you’re growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.

He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.

“Just take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.

“You already did, tsawksyul,” he whispers.

“Not properly,” you press. “I want to do it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because you’re grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.

The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonung’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Fuck yes.”

Your words explode from you as though you didn’t mean to say them, and a moment later you’re flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before he’s lifting you back onto him again.

It’s bare – skin on glorious skin.

He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. You’re so soft – thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement – but you’re also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks you’re killing him.

It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, he’ll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.

He always knew patience wasn’t your strong suit, but you’re growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.

With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.

You’re clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. You’re tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like he’s being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.

When you let out a hoarse whine – the stretch is evident even to him – Aonung winces. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.

He can’t look away from where you’re swallowing him whole. It’s a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesn’t come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.

And then finally, Aonung’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.

He’s dying. He has to be. Because there’s no damn way he didn’t just go to paradise.

The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. “You’re all the way here.”

“Taking me so well syulang,” Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. “Doing so good for me.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you don’t know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. You’re gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.

Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesn’t need to be a genius to see you’re in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well you’re doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.

“Oh god,” you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonung’s chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. “Oh god, Aonung.”

The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, tsawksyul.”

The words fall on practically deaf ears. You’re so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts you’re even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.

You’re clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesn’t know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether they’re of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.

Aonung couldn’t care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.

“Eywa, they didn’t do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,” Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. “You don’t need any of them ever again, you got that? You won’t ever need anyone else.”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he groans, hardly even aware of what he’s saying anymore. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be there with you.”

“Ao- Aonung?” you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. “I wa- I want-”

“I know, I know,” Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. There’s no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isn’t greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. “I’ve got you.”

It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.

It’s with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.

The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.

His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently – a softness at complete odds to the way he’s fucking you.

It feels sinful – the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.

He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you – all stretched and beautiful – around him, taking everything he gives you.

The sounds you’re making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.

Eywa, you’re so much tighter than he ever imagined – ever dreamed of. He’s pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.

The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.

You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it – all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.

He knew from the start he wasn’t going to last long, but he can see that you clearly aren’t going to either.

Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you aren’t cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesn’t almost fuck you straight through the bed.

Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. He’s wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that there’s no slowing down now.

Nothing – not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires – could compare to this. To you.

And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him it’s bordering on sinful pain.

He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh god-” you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“I know, I got you,” Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isn’t even sure he’s physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.

It seems to almost go forever, and there isn’t a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.

He’s grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. He’s so proud of the way you took him that he’s actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.

That’s that.

It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.

He’s hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point it’s spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.

Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.

When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesn’t bother to pull out.

You’re still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You don’t protest – though he’s careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.

You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.

You’re also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.

Here you are, the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, when he’s regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.

You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good,” Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. “You won’t need anyone else ever again.”

“Oh, really?” you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way you can’t stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.

“Can I kiss you, tsawksyul?”

You don’t respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.

“What?”

“You just fucked me near boneless,” you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, “and now you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

“Yes…?” he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.

“Yes,” you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

And he does.

Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.

He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.

Then you’re giggling against him and he’s laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.

He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.

But this is the same then ever – albeit you’re naked. And in love.

Aonung smiles.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment you’ll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.

So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyone’s reaction to you and him. He finds he couldn’t care less.

Eywa, he’s so happy to have you here.

His little friend.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

#aonung fanfiction #aonung x reader #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #aonung x human reader #aonung x human #avatar x human reader #friends to lovers

[flw3rrr]

A drunken' gamble

Paring: Billy the kid x fem!reader

18+ MDNI NSFW

Warnings: Alcohol, cursing, Smut, PNV (wrap it up guys) Cream pie, Breeding kink, Top/bottom Billy, kinda sub billy, riding (save a horse ride a cowboy), oral (fem, M receiving) Fingering, gambling, drunk billy but not super drunk so they are both able to consent, Degradng (feel free to let me know if i missing💖) no description of reader

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You and Billy run along with the same gang. Taking a break at the local saloon for a quick drink and a game of poker. leading to Billy becoming slightly drunk and ending up taking a good ride! + Bonus smut again at the end <3

The night took over the land as the lights started to appear around the small town. The saloon was busy as ever at night, with men drinking and women working to make their pay. and you just sat at some table drinking whiskey as Billy played some poker with some gentlemen. You'd watch from afar, seeing who'd get pissed and storm out and leave after losing half of their money during the game. It was a time for some nice relaxation after a tough day trying to do whatever stupid job you had.

Watching Billy as he took a swig of his whiskey and slightly leaning back, legs spread open as he waited his turn. You and Billy had something going on between you both. but nothing dramatic—a few flirting here and there and a hungry look once. But damn, how much you’d wish he'd take you, bend you over any surface, and just take you.

Upon your little session of just watching him, he turned his head slightly and looked at you. Something was held in his eye, like some type of shine you couldn't describe. But as he looked at you, his features were most admirable, like God sent him from above just for you and you alone. Turning back to the table once it was his turn, you looked down at your half-empty glass, feeling the arousal grow within you. How badly you wanted to get a taste of him. The alcohol was taking some part of you, but you were still able to keep a full mind.

You notice some man appear near you; he kept looking at you like he wanted to devour you. It disgusted you; he smelled like hard alcohol and truly made you want to escape. "Well, what's a nice, pretty lady just sitting here all alone, hm?" He said his face looked sinful and dangerous. Looking at him with a puzzled gaze, you tried not to respond and turned your head away from him. "Excuse me, I'm talking to you; didn't you hear me?" Not wanting to start a commotion and be saved, you sighed deeply and looked right at him.  "Sir, I kindly thank you for wanting my attention, but I'm afraid I'm not worthy of your attention. I'm sure some of the other nice ladies are begging for yours." Pointing to a group of working girls who are looking at him.

It seemed to work as he wandered off, stumbling his way over to them. sighing to yourself, you down the rest of your whiskey and look back at Billy, seeing how they just ended their game. With him walking towards you and smirking. "Looks like I didn't have to save you, did I?" He said it smugly. "And it seems you're right, sir." Pushing the playful game between you both forward. Billy looks at you and then at the stairs that lead to the rooms that could be rented. "So.. why don't you say we should get some shut eye, hm?" biting his lip slightly, his teasing manner showing as he looked back at you. Grabbing his hand, you lead him, holding your laughs as you pass by those who lost in the game of poker.

The door slams, and your lips land on Billy. His hands are around your waist, gripping yours tightly. He moves his lips down, kissing your jaw line down to your neck. Working to take off your shirt with his hands, desperately needing to feel you. "Oh fuck..." He groans once he sees your bear breasts. Smirking to yourself, you unbuckle his belt, throwing it to the side somewhere. slowly falling to your knees as you look up at him, filled with hunger. Looking back at his bulge,you take your hand and free his cock out. The tip is hard and slightly red, with pre-cum dripping out. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it. Billy's head throws back.

Letting a small giggle out before taking his length into your mouth, taking how much you could, and putting your hand to whatever place you couldn't reach You began to swirl your tongue around him, moving your head back and forth, pumping the rest with your hand. Feeling his hand grip onto your hair tightly as his head falls back with his eyes tightly shut. "God, I knew you'd be this nice sucking on my cock like a desperate whore?" using his hand to move your head faster and faster.

His breath got heavier and faster. "God damn, I'm gonna' cum..." Billy groaned out. Seconds later, hot ropes of sticky cum shot through down your throat. Pulling back your head, he took your body and laid you on the bed. Removing your pants, leaving your body fully naked along with him. "You're so wet for me, God," he said, looking down at you like a starved man who just found his first meal in months.  Getting down on his knees, he placed your legs over his shoulders. Moving his face into your cunt, he slid his tongue down slowly, throwing your head back and gripping the sheets.

"Billy Oh my god," you cried out, your eyes shutting tightly as you felt him lapping over and over,bringing his thumb along and rubbing circles around your clit. Your hips stutter as you feel your orgasm approach by the second. "I'm so close right here, oh my god, please don't stop!" whining out as your hand moves to grip his hair tightly as if you were going to die. "Let go for me," he mumbled against you, his thumb going faster rubbing the right places as he continued to fuck you with his tongue. You moan loudly as you came your vision going blurry and cloudy.

Leaning back up, Billy hovers above you. Getting an idea, you flip him around and straddle him on the bed, kissing him deeply. Tasting yourself on him sent a shock of pleasure through you. Feeling his hands as he wrapped them around your naked waist, guiding his cock to your entrance. "You've been so nice to me; let me show you how much I fucking love you." Your breath heavy from your previous orgasm. Sliding fully down onto him, your cunt squeezing tightly around him, sitting still before moving.

Slowly moving your hips back and forth, your hands hold his face, making you both look at each other in the eyes. His blue eyes looking at you filled with passion, desire, and an intense stare. Letting out a quiet moan as his hands guide your movement. "Fuck, just like that, don't stop." He let out a slight whimper. Biting his lip as he glanced down, your bodies connected, a white cream ring slowly appeared. Throwing your head back as he hit your G spot gave him a chance to leave markings on your neck. The room getting hot, sweaty, and sticky. "Fuuuuckkkkkk," Billy rasped out, his head throwing back as he felt your cunt tighten more, feeling your orgasm approach.

"Cum with me, Billy; I know you want to... fuck! Gonna get me pregnant too, hm?" You said Making him look back at you. "Fuck yeah, I am. You'll look so good all round my child." He huffed out, taking his hand to circle once again on your clit. That made you even more turned on, quickening your pace to bring you both to your orgasm. Both letting out loud cries of moans out as he filled your womb with his hot sticky ropes of cum as yours slowly dripped out.

Sitting still, the only thing heard was the sounds of your breathing. your head resting on his shoulder as he placed soft kisses on your neck once more. "I wouldn't be ashamed to do that again once more," Billy joked out as he helped you slide off and lay next to you, keeping you close to him. "I agree. You were... okay." You chuckled. Rolling his eyes, he kissed you deeply once more before falling asleep in one another's arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus: Kissing against an abandoned barn as the hot sun beamed onto you both, your breaths were hot and heavy as Billy groped your breasts, squeezing them, causing a moan to slip out. "Hurry, Billy, they'll start to wonder where we are," stating as you unbuckle his belt. It was after a fight with some men and then being chased. Both filled with adrenaline, and needing to get some steam out of you both. "I'm trying, darling, but you know how much I love taking my time with you." he said, kissing your neck as he lifted one of your legs around his waist.

Taking his cock out and pumping it before sliding into your cunt, as much as he wished he could take his time, he knew they'd both have to be quick with this. Both of your forheads leaning onto each other, mouths opened, feeling him filling you up to the brim bottoming out, "Fuck!' You screamed as he began to thrust, leaving no time for you to settle. "God, I always love how you feel around me. Cmon' I know you can cum for  me.''Rubbing your clit as he thrusted more, which started to becoming sloppy

Slamming your lips onto his, silencing both of your moans as you both cum. Grinding your hips into his to work through it "That's it. Fuck yourself on me." Hands tighten around your waist. You both, after hearing your names being called, "Where the fuck are you guys?" Both quickly parted ways before putting the missing clothing on, quietly giggling to yourselfs.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid smut #william bonney #william bonney smut #tom blyth #cowboy smut #billy the kid 2022

[amyispxnk]

Sometimes, home is a person.

Summary: Joel loves music and so do you, and he finds the perfect thing for it on patrol

A/N: I wanna dance with Joel AGHHH GOD. Also I'm putting the song I'd put in my apocalypse record player here. Which would you pick??

Pairing: Joel Miller x gn!reader

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: fluff, language, a vague suicide mention, established relationship

DO NOT COPY THIS WORK IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

"Joel! Get your ass over here!" Tommy's voice echoed throughout the large house they'd just cleared out, nearing the end of their patrol for the day.

The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he trudged up them, turning the corner and walking into the room Tommy was stood in, hands outstretched in front of him as he looked at Joel, before gesturing to the space in front of him. "Look!" He said expectantly as Joel turned and let his eyes rove over the items before him.

A blue record player, weathered with age and apocalypse, with a case of records on the floor beside it. There were also posters from some musical bands which were a little damaged too, but a few were still recognisable.

"Well, shit." Joel chuckled, fingertips lightly brushing against the case of the record player as he turned back to face Tommy. "You takin' any of this or 's it a gift for me?"

"All for you, brother. Meet me outside in 10, yeah?"

Joel nodded before turning back around and checking the record player for damage, deciding it would probably still work and moving onto the records. He picked out a few he liked and some more he knew you'd like too, putting them in his pack and finally looking to the posters. He swiftly pocketed the Pearl Jam one and looked for some more, finally ending up with Tommy a little more than 10 minutes later.

"You sure took your time." He had teased as Joel walked out, pack close to bursting by now with all the shit he was trying to bring back. He didn't really get excited over stuff anymore, but he hadn't come across a single record player in.. ever, so it was a pretty big thing for him. Not only that, but you loved music just as much as he did, and he knew you'd be over the moon when he brought everything back.

"Had to make sure I wasn't leavin' anythin' good behind." Joel explained as he mounted his horse, the pair kicking off and starting the journey back to Jackson.

You watched the swirls of stock and water blend together in the pot as you cooked dinner when the telltale sound of heavy footsteps plodding up the porch and the key turning in the lock graced your ears.

"'m home!" Joel called as you turned the heat down on the stove and walked over to the entryway.

"Hey." You smiled, going over to him and giving him a small kiss. "How was patrol?"

"Was good, nothin' special really." He replied, wanting to keep the record player a secret so he could surprise you later.

"No infected?" You asked as you reached to help get his jacket off, before reaching for his pack too. He quickly stopped you from taking it with his hand, causing you to look at him confusedly.

"What? You hidin' something from me?" You questioned with a little smile, before retreating and hanging his jacket up.

"Not hidin' anythin'." He told you in a gruff voice as he took off his boots and followed you into the kitchen.

You gave him an 'ookay then' look, and he knew you'd seen straight through him, but you chose to just let it go. "Dinner'll be ready in a bit, then. You should go shower, you're all stinky." You teased as you wrinkled your nose slightly, making him let out a low chuckle as he walked upstairs.

"Yes ma'am."

That evening, the two of you ate and after you both finished, you were resting on the couch when Joel gently took the book you were reading from your hands.

"Wanted t'show you somethin'." He said, trying to suppress the smile that wanted to etch itself onto his face but ultimately failing.

"I knew you were hiding something!" You immediately responded with a grin as you sat up off the couch and looked at him expectedly.

"Yeah, ya always gotta be right, don't cha?" He smirked as he stood up and reached down into the pack.

"Now close your eyes." He told you, making you let out a small laugh as you did.

"Okay this better be the coolest thing ever Joel, you're really making it seem that way." You said as he stood in front of you.

"It is. Open your eyes."

You did, and when you saw the record player in his hands, you let out a little gasp and looked from him to the record player and back to him again.

"Is this.." you began, before reaching for the little clasp on it and popping it open.

He watched your eyes sparkle like they'd never done before as his heart positively melted.

"Yeah, found it on patrol." He explained as he put the record player on a table then took your hand and pulled you up from the couch.

"Y'gonna keep gawkin' at it or you wanna dance with me?" He smirked as you looked back at him and smiled.

"Yeah- Let's dance."

He put a record on that he knew you'd love and put his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer as your hands joined behind his neck and the two of you danced slowly, swaying to the music. You looked up at his face and let your left hand trail across his jaw, cupping it as your thumb raked over the coarse stubble that littered along the bottom of his face. Your gaze shifted to his eyes, a deep warm brown which stared back at you with such love that was only reserved for a select few people in Joel's life. His face, scarred from the many battles he'd fought - physical and mental - and from age. A face which you adored regardless of any 'imperfection'. A particular scar on his temple came into view and you lingered on it for a minute. If he had been successful that day, you wouldn't be here, alive even, let alone living the best life you reckoned you could in the apocalyptic world with the man you loved. You shook the thought away and let your eyes finally fall on his lips. Slightly chapped, pink and pouty, just begging to be kissed.

Of course, you oblige as you lean in and press your lips to his, the song coming to a slow end even though you didn't notice since you were so lost in thought, in admiration for the man you were so blessed to call yours. You poured everything into the kiss, wanting to emphasise just how much you loved him without even needing words. He needed to know it, and you'd come to realise that, so you showed him as much as you could every single day.

Thank you SM for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated and requests are open 💞

#joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel tlou #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel miller one shot #joel miller x you #joel x reader #tlou hbo #the last of us #joel miller hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #amyispxnk fics

[afictionalwhor3]

Speechless

A/N: I fear I may be back in my top gun maverick era. I wanna work on being more consistent but no promises. I'm pretty sure this would be considered smut with plot so enjoy sexies :).

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Smut (18+ minors do not interact), oral m!receiving, unprotected pinv, praise/degradation, dirty talk

----------------------------------------------------

"Y/N!" Bradley yells up the stairs for you checking his watch for the thousandth time. You had so many qualities he admired. How loving you were, your intelligence, your ability to reassure him when he didn't even know he needed it. However, timeliness was not on your tool belts of assets. A trait that drove perfectionist always on time Bradley insane to no extent. And if you took any longer the two of you would officially be late to Coyote's wedding. "If you aren't down here in the next two minutes I am leaving without you!" He yells up the stairs.

"Oh stop it no you're not. Don't get your panties in a bunch it takes a lady a while to look good" You say walking downstairs. At the sound of your heels clicking down the stairs, Bradley looks up to say something smart in reply but the words get lodged in his throat. You looked absolutely enchanting. The color of the dress not only complimented your skin, but it hugged you in all the perfect places like it was made just for you. The slit showed off your perfect legs while the neckline left plenty to the imagination. You walked over to him fixing his tie and brushing off the shoulders of his suit "Cat got your tongue?" You ask with a smirk wrapping your arms around his neck. Finally getting some sense about himself Rooster places his hands on your hips looking at you.

"No sorry I just was not expecting all of this," He says making you smile and kiss his still-shocked face.

"When my date looks this good it's only right I match it." You reply and it's Rooster's turn to smirk. He takes one of your hands in his and makes you do a spin as you laugh softly. He whistles lowly before pulling you in close to his body.

"I say wedding be damned, we stay here tonight and I ravage you." Bradley whispers and you smirk placing a hand on his chest.

"Hold your horses there lieutenant. Weren't you the one just yelling about us being late and leaving me? And if you think I just spent hours getting myself together so we could not go out? You are very very sadly mistaken. Maybe if you play your cards the right way you can get lucky tonight," You wink giving him another kiss before walking away to grab your purse and the gift. "Well come on Bradshaw we are going to be late," You say with a smirk as you start walking outside to the car. Bradley can't do anything besides shake his head before quickly locking the house up and following you.

~ Coyote's wedding ceremony was beautiful. Weddings always made you cry and Rooster wouldn't admit it but seeing some of his closest friends get married invoked some sensitive emotions in himself as well. He spent a large part of the ceremony fidgeting with the ring on your finger waiting, rather impatiently, for the day it's the two of you up there promising your souls to each other for the rest of your lives. Now the two of you resided at the wedding reception which lasted late into the night. Both you and Rooster, as well as the other Top Gun crew, were more than a few drinks in. After Bradley had to help Bob get into an Uber with Phoenix you both decided to call it a night getting an Uber back to your respective hotel suite.

Getting back to your room you open the door heading right for the king-size bed so you could collapse onto it. "Roos can you take my shoes off please? I'm pretty sure I'm going to have bunions after all the dancing I did tonight" You say as Rooster smiles and takes his suit jacket off throwing it on the back of a nearby chair. He gets on his knees in front of you kissing the inside of both your legs before he gets to work on your heels.

"I told you that you should've taken these off a lot sooner than you did. And I offered to carry you multiple times, you know I don't care" He says gently massaging your foot after he manages to get the shoe off. You moan softly at how good it feels.

"Yeah I know but I hate giving you the benefit of being right," You say stubbornly making Bradley smile. After your second foot is taken care of Bradley begins to kiss up your body slowly. When he gets to the beginning of your slit he looks into your eyes his pupils blown from lust. Despite what your head, and pussy, are telling you you push his head away. "I have to go the bathroom," You announce, and before Rooster can say anything else you run into the bathroom. Somewhat stunned Rooster stays there for a few seconds before sighing and standing up assuming you just aren't up for it tonight. He sits on the bed taking his shoes and socks off before he stands up to take off his cuff links and tie. In the process of unbuttoning his shirt, he hears the bathroom door open and turns to look at you and once again he is left speechless.

Before him you stand in a lingerie set he has never seen before. The sheer material of most of it does little to conceal Rooster's favorite parts of you. You walk over to him slowly making sure to sway your hips a little extra. When you finally reach him you take his shirt out of his hands and begin undoing the rest of the buttons. You look at him with a smirk on your face,

"Lieutenant, to have you speechless not once but twice tonight. That has to be a new record for me" You say. When you're done with his shirt you grab him by his belt and guide him until he falls on the bed. Once again trying to gather his bearings Bradley says,

"When you'd g-get this set?" He asks and you can't help but chuckle as you sink to your knees before him.

"Real smooth Bradshaw. Real smooth" You say smiling as you can see Rooster's face start to turn red. You continue your previous actions unbuckling his belt and with his help getting his pants off. Next is rubbing your hand gently over his bulge gauging his reactions. After a while you start to apply more pressure and move a little bit faster before Rooster grabs your wrist, "If you keep going I'm going to bust in my pants like some horny teenager" He says making you smirk.

"So what would you like from me Bradley? My mouth?" You ask kissing over his bulge as Bradley whimpers and nods his head.

"Fuck yes baby please," He says making you smirk. It wasn't often you got Bradley to submit to you like this, always having an incessant need to be in control. So, when you could get him like this it felt awfully good. You take his boxers off exposing his hard and angry length. You kiss his tip making him whimper again,

"Awe it's okay baby. I'm gonna take care of it." You promise before slowly taking his length in your mouth. Rooster throws his head back moaning out for you. You watch as his fists grip the sheets tightly the deeper you go onto his cock. After spending a few minutes bobbing up and down on his cock, you come up for air spitting on his cock and using one hand to stroke it. The other only teased his balls.

"Y/n fuck yes. Fuck you're taking care of my cock baby." He says making you smirk. He sits up on his elbows so he can admire your work and your own mouth waters at his chiseled physique. The man had to have been chiseled by the gods the way you could count each muscle on his body. Bradley noticed you staring and began flexing subtly for you. There was a moment when you were pretty sure you were dripping onto the sheets. You take his cock back into your mouth and at the feeling of how wet your pussy is you sneak a hand down to touch yourself over your panties. "Fuck you look so hot playing with yourself right now. How'd I get so fucking lucky?" He asks in between moans making you smile.

Relaxing your throat to go deep on his cock as your hand takes a more firm grip on his balls massaging them. After only a few seconds Rooster pulls you off him and pulls you up to meet him. "If you kept going with that I would've busted everywhere and I need to cum in your pussy" Rooster says making you smirk. You press your lips to his letting your hands wander over his body while Rooster sits up to take the rest of his shirt off and let his hands roam the familiar planes of your body.

He pulls away from the kiss to lay kisses on your neck and expertly takes your bra off tossing it somewhere in the room. He brings your boob into his mouth swirling his tongue around your nipple and using his free hand to play with the other one before he switches sides. You push him onto his back after a few moments "Let's make tonight about you baby" You say taking your panties off and straddling his length. You give him a few courtesy pumps before lining yourself up and slowly sliding on. Rooster's hands fly to your waist and guide you down. You fall forward bracing yourself against his chest. You bite your lip willing yourself to get adjusted to him. No matter how many times the two of you had sex, every time he entered you it was like the first time all over again. When you were ready Rooster began to guide you up and down on his cock, both your moans mixing with each other. Willing yourself to go faster you whined as it wasn't enough and before you even had to say anything Rooster pulled you into himself and began to fuck up into you.

"Bradley! Oh my god! That's my fucking g-spot. Shit you're fucking pounding it!" You moan loudly while Rooster applies a few slaps to your ass making you moan even louder.

"You're so fucking sexy. Wearing that slutty fucking lingerie for me. Had that on all night knowing we'd come back here and I'd fuck you. Such a perfect slut for me" Rooster says turning your face to kiss his passionately all teeth and tongue.

Before you can process what's happening Rooster is pulling out of you to flip you on your stomach helping you to all fours. Lining himself up once again he pounds right into you this time making you arch over. "Fuck!" You moan loudly. Looking down at you Rooster swears itself enough to make him bust right there. He leans over to kiss your shoulder and snake his hand around your body to play with your clit.

"I need you to cum for me baby cause I'm about to blow a loud so deep in your pussy. Come on be a good girl for me cum on my cock. My good little whore there you go baby" He says and every word that comes out his mouth has your pussy spasming until your basically yelling while you cum harder than you think you ever have. Fucking you through your high the spasms of your pussy finally push Rooster over the edge as he fills your pussy up. His body lays on tops of yours while you try to catch your breath and make sense of what just happened.

After a few minutes pass Rooster slowly and gently pulls out of you making you whine. He goes to get a washcloth out the bathroom running it under warm water before he comes back and cleans you up gently while you whimper at how sensitive your pussy feels. Rooster goes back into the bathroom to clean himself up before he comes back to you helping you onto your back and getting into bed. You immediately snuggle into him while he wraps his strong arms around you. You bury your head in his neck taking in his scent. Rooster traces aimless shapes along your back and hip "I didn't go too hard at the end there right?" He asks while you shake your head and press a kiss to his jaw.

"No it was just right." You say already feeling your body becoming heavy with sleep.

"That's alright baby get your sleep because after I feed you tomorrow morning I have a few things to get you back for. You left me speechless twice tonight which warrants at least four orgasms. At least" He says as your mouth hangs open and he presses a sweet kiss to your forehead as if the filthiest words didn't just come out of his mouth.

"I love you baby. Get some sleep you're definitely going to need it"

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x you #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun fandom #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster smut #top gun smut #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster x black!reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x black!reader

[dockett]

So Alive II Joel Miller x Reader

The first time you laid your eyes on Joel, you knew something felt... different.

Warnings: gunshot wound, stitches, explicit content 18+, soft!joel, oral/fingering f!receiving, p in v, unprotected sex, minors dni.

Word count: 3.1k

Something had sparked in you the first time you saw Joel Miller. You could feel the heat swirl up through your body, like the world was begging you to open up. Begging you to connect. Begging you to invite this man in. You didn't know if you could.

But something in you wanted to try.

It was the end of June, and it was hot. Hotter than you had remembered it being the year before. Joel rode beside you, he always did. You never acknowledged that you liked his closeness to you. 

Patrol that day was standard, riding to a nearby abandoned settlement for supplies, and was going decently without a hitch, until it wasn't. Shots were fired, and then Joel was falling back off of his horse hitting the ground hard. He gasped, the wind being knocked out of him, and in an instant you were off your horse, skidding to a halt on the ground beside him. 

The other members of the patrol dealt with the situation, riding for cover. The shootout began, and took only a few minutes to disperse. You couldn't care about that, even though you knew you should've. All you could focus on was Joel, blood starting to seep through his shirt. You swallowed, your hands shaky. You went to start unbuttoning his shirt, trying to assess the damage, but his other hand stopped you. 

“‘M fine,” he muttered, grabbing your arm as his eyes trained on you. You shook your head. 

“Joel, you are certainly not fine.”  

He stared at you, and then slowly but surely released his grip on your wrist. He nodded. You got to work. 

•••

He had leaned on you, one arm wrapped around your middle as you rode back to Jackson. You were acutely aware of him, telling yourself it was because you didn't want him to fall off. He was shaky.

You escorted him to the medical center personally, and when they pulled him back to stitch him up, he asked you to come with him. How could you have said no? 

He had a stoic expression as they stitched up his wounds. The bullet cut clean through his left trapezius muscle, skimming over the top of his collarbone. His hand twitched and he glanced at you. His eyes were unreadable. 

Your quick fix of wrapping gauze around his wounds after he had fallen off his horse had saved him a lot of blood loss, they told you. You just felt he was lucky to be alive. If the gunman’s aim had been any better, Joel wouldn't have lived. The thought chilled you, making goosebumps rise on your arms. You didn't like it, the idea of bringing back a body instead of a living man. Especially with it being Joel. 

They gave him a sling to wear, instructing him to give the injury time to heal. You could tell he hated it. He just nodded his head at the nurses, and they shuffled out of the room. You stepped towards him then, as he stood from the bed. His shirt was still unbuttoned. 

“How are you feeling?” You asked. 

“Like I got kicked by a horse,” he replied, trying to feed the button through the hole at the top of his shirt. He growled in frustration when he failed. 

“Let me.” 

He did. You buttoned his shirt for him, top to bottom. “Dunno how I'm gonna get out of this later,” he murmured. 

“We'll cross that bridge when we get there,” you chirped. “Let's go get you something to eat, and some rest.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you, but followed you all the same. 

•••

The next few weeks were difficult for Joel. He couldn't lift anything, or reach above him with his left arm, so he ended up spending most of his time with you at the stables while you cleaned out stalls and groomed the horses. You enjoyed this job, much more than when they put you on patrols. Horses were easier on you.

Joel wasn't much of a talker at first but neither were you. You enjoyed the company all the same. As his range of motion got better, and the sling finally became a thing of the past, he would help you with what he could.

“My uncle had a ranch,” he told you one day as he groomed. You were cleaning the stall. It had become a routine, you do the heavy lifting and he gets the horses cleaned while haltered just outside the stall. It worked for both of you. “Used to go there every weekend with Tommy up until I was a teenager.” 

He patted the horse on the neck as he brushed over its back. “Never really thought I'd ride again.” 

You nodded, leaning against the pitchfork as you wiped your sweating brow with the back of your arm. You had grown up around horses, your family owning a ranch out in butt fuck nowhere Utah. “I'm glad I get to work with them here,” you said. “Reminds me of home.”

Joel patted the horse again, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Me, too.” 

You smiled at the sight. You always tucked these little moments away, somewhere deep in your memory where you would access them late at night. Joel liked horses. Joel missed football. Joel wasn't always the best cook, but he liked to barbecue. Joel was protective of his family. And most of all, Joel liked you. 

•••

Joel was livid. Why? You didn't know, but you could see it all over him when he opened the door. You could hear it in his tone. 

“Now, what did I—” he stopped. It was only you. You swallowed, suddenly very on edge. 

“Hi, uh… I can—I can come back another time.” 

“No,” he responded, reaching to grab your shoulder as you step away. You pause, unsure of yourself. His hackles were starting to lower. He took a deep breath. “Please.” 

Please. 

You slowly nodded your head and stepped inside. He closed and locked the door behind you, and then without a word walked around you and into the kitchen. You followed. A beautiful aroma was wafting through the air, and you could hear Joel muttering to himself as he lifted a lid off the pot on the stove.

You were hesitant to say anything. You didn't want to push the already angry man. Against better judgment you asked, “What's for dinner?”

He didn't turn to face you. “Stew,” he said, putting the lid back on. “Only has a few more minutes. I was plannin’ on bringin’ you some.” 

You felt your cheeks warm. He had been thinking about you, and more specifically, thinking about bringing you something he made. You felt a soft smile pull at your lips. “That's kind of you.”

He grunted, and then looked over his shoulder at you. “At the door–I–well… Tommy and Maria just left.” 

You knew from your small conversations that Joel didn't like Maria. Maria didn't like Joel. Something must've happened between the two, you assumed, and decided not to push. Instead you walked closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder. 

“You alright?” 

He closed his eyes, sighing and then bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “It'll be fine.” 

You nodded, opening your mouth to say something before your stomach growled loudly. Joel chuckled, turning to face you. “Someone's hungry.” 

You could feel yourself blush as you glanced away. His finger was there, hooking under your chin and pulling your face back towards him. “Hey now,” he said, a sudden softness in his eyes. His lips parted, and then closed, like he couldn't figure out what to say. His hand moved, cupping your cheek. The other went to grab your hip. You felt stiff in his arms. It was happening so quickly—maybe too quickly. He leaned forward, his nose bumping yours and asked, “Can I?” 

You felt yourself nod, and you swallowed thickly. All of the residual anger left his body as he leaned further into you, meeting your lips with his own. He was incredibly soft in his actions. He kissed you with a gentleness you didn't expect, and you couldn't help but sigh and bring your arms up to wrap around his middle as he held you in place.

He pulled back, and you leaned into him until he broke away completely. He was breathing hard and so were you. He kept his hands on you, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

“Let's eat,” he said with a small and genuine smile. You nodded, giving him a bright smile of your own. 

The stew was delicious and at the first bite you teared up. Your hand was on the table, under his, and he squeezed it tightly when he saw them bubbling up in your eyes. “Hey,” he murmured. “You alright?” 

You nodded, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, sorry… it tastes like my mom’s.” 

He slowly nodded back. “I used to make it for Tommy and… well. It was about the only damn thing I could make.”

He gave you a watery smile. It clicked in your brain, tonight must've been important for Joel to go out of his way to make something, especially something that clearly was nostalgic for him. You took another bite, savoring the memories it was bringing you, too. 

The two of you ate in silence, his hand not leaving yours. 

He took your bowl when you were done, putting it in the sink. You stayed sitting at the table as he got the food put away in the fridge. It was weird to watch him. It felt strangely domestic—strangely normal. Even with all the pain and loss you had experienced, moments like this made the world worth living for.

Joel walked back over to you, extending his hand to offer to help you stand. You took it and he pulled you up against him, planting another kiss on your lips. Your hands looped around the back of his neck. 

“You can say no,” he mumbled against your lips. “But if you want to come up to the bedroom with me, I'd sure like that.” 

You thought about the implication there. Joining Joel in the bedroom with no one else home. Your body tingled. Maybe it's what you both needed. You kissed him back with fervor before saying, “Okay.”

He stepped away, your hands slid down to his chest. His heart was pounding hard and fast under his shirt. He was nervous, you could see it in his eyes, feel it in the way his heart beat. He grabbed your hand with his, and led you upstairs. 

He sat down on the bed, his hands on your hips as he looked up at you. You stood between his legs, one hand on his right shoulder and the other behind his head, and you kissed him. Hard. He moaned into your mouth, and you gulped it down, feeling feverish. Your mouth opened when his tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and he invaded greedily. He was taking what was his. 

And you let him, your tongues caressing and exploring each other. He pulled away from you, and you whined in protest. He looked at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips. It made a wetness pool between your thighs as you looked down, seeing a string of saliva connecting the two of you. 

You felt encouraged, a fire blossoming in your chest. You brought your knees up onto the bed, straddling him. His hands came to your sides, running up and down them before squeezing your breasts. You gasped, arching your back into him. He grumbled about needing to get your shirt off, and in a heartbeat you were pulling it off over your head along with your bra. 

His lips found your nipple immediately, hot and sizzling on your skin. He sucked and pulled, working it with his tongue. You couldn't stop the moans he pulled from you, his large hands on your bare back searing into you. Your hands tangled in his hair, gripping tight enough that it probably stung. He groaned against you, vibrating into you. The sound went straight to your abdomen, causing tendrils of heat to grip your body. You shook in his arms.

Almost unnoticeably, he shook, too. 

He released your nipple with a loud ‘pop!’ and he kissed up your neck before rolling you both. You landed on your back, and he kissed his way down your sternum and soft stomach. You twitched under each touch. He grabbed the button and fly of your jeans, undoing them and pulling them off. You squirmed as he looked at you, fully aware of his gaze raking over your body. 

“You're beautiful,” he whispered, kissing your thigh as he settled between them. You felt your cheeks burn. Getting complimented by the gruff man made your toes curl. 

“Thank you,” you whispered back, fingers sliding back into his hair. 

He hummed as he took off your panties. You laid your head back, and he breathed against you. “Hey, look at me.”

You gasped as he licked through your folds and then you looked down at him like he asked of you. He hardly even blinked, drinking you in as he tasted you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he set a pace and pattern, swirling his tongue across your clit.

Your grip on his hair tightened, legs jerking, when he slid a thick finger into your pussy, sinking it knuckle deep and curling it. Another followed, causing you to groan his name. He hummed again, sucking your clit into his mouth. 

Joel's fingers curled, and then he pumped them in and out of you. Your hips bucked off the bed in response. His other hand came searching, reaching up for your nipple. He pinched it and rolled it between his thumb and index finger. 

“Fuck you taste so damn good,” he growled. “Such a good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers in response, the praise going to your head and making you grin. Your head dropped back into the pillows as he continued his devoted and yet ruthless momentum. Your body tightened, like a coil ready to spring. You breathed harder, his name dripping from your lips over and over like honey. You grabbed onto him tighter, your heels digging into his back. 

“Cum,” he demanded, rutting his lower body into the bed. “Cum on my fingers, show me what a good girl you are.” 

Three more passes with his tongue and two more pumps of his fingers, and you were crashing into your orgasm. Joel groaned, almost louder than you, as you tightened around him. Your thighs slammed closed around his head as your other hand shot to the bed, bunching up the blanket under you. You bucked, you writhed, you cried his name, and your heart beat so hard in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

He slowly pulled away from you as you came down, still twitching and whimpering. He smirked at you, licking his lips. Your wetness was all over his beard and mustache, and you shuddered as he climbed up. He positioned himself between your legs, the denim strained by how hard he was. He shifted his hips against you as he kissed you, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Joel,” you whined when he pulled his lips away. “Get out of these.” 

You grabbed his ass through his jeans, and he sat up, undoing the buttons of his shirt. He let it slide off of his shoulders and discarded it across the room. He made quick work if his pants, too, and then he was naked before you. His cock was curved up, swollen and thick, and he grabbed it with his hand, giving it a few pumps. 

“You ready?” He asked, touching your bruised clit with the head of his dick. You trembled, shaking like a leaf under him, but nodded all the same. He pushed himself into you slowly, giving you both time to adjust. He hissed out a small, “F-fuck.” 

Your hands shot to his arms, gripping them tightly as the pain of the large man stretching you open brought a lump to your throat. He leaned over you, keeping your head on his left side as he kissed and nuzzled your throat. “Mmm, so tight. You're doin’ such a good job for me.” 

You arched your back as he fully seated himself. You both breathed hard as he began to shift his hips back and forth. Your fingers dug into him, squeezing his arms tightly as he began to move harder and faster. The bed creaked underneath you as the sound of his body meeting yours echoed through the room.

He pulled his face away from your neck, looking down at you with eyes that burned into yours. Your eyebrows furrowed, your nails beginning to leave red trails across his skin before he sat up, your hands falling to your sides. He grabbed under your knees, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders. 

He leaned down again, pain sparked in your thighs at the delicious stretch, and you cried out louder and louder as he pounded into you. He hit so much deeper than before at this angle, pressing into just the right spots that had your legs trembling. 

Your next orgasm tore through you so hard and fast and that you couldn't even register Joel anymore. You were gone, floating in the pops of color that surrounded your vision when you closed your eyes. Your body tightened around him over and over again, forcing him to slow down. 

As you came down, you gulped in air, trying to tether yourself back to the physical world. His hips began snapping into you again, and your legs fell off of his shoulders. He wrapped them around his hips instead. His hand came to your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye.

“Good girl,” he murmured. 

You couldn't even form words, so instead you moaned in appreciation. His thrusts were heavy, slow and deep, pushing himself into you completely, and when he finally came, he pressed his forehead to yours and whimpered your name. 

Your hands found his sides and back, nails sliding across his ribs as he filled you up, his whole body jerking before finally relaxing against you. He sighed as you felt his heart beat, pounding against your chest, and then he kissed your temple before pulling out and rolling over next to you. 

You smiled to yourself as you looked at him, his eyes closed as he laid on his back. You felt completely satiated by him, and as you rolled over to cuddle close, you felt that spark from the first time you'd laid eyes on him. 

You were glad you tried.

#joel tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #joel miller x y/n #the last of us #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #oneshot #feedback welcome #requests welcome #dockett1109

[hexgaywire]

"Taking Care of You While You're Sick" (HC)

[Nijisanji EN Boys Edition]

Ft. Vox Akuma, Sonny Brisko, Ren Zotto, And Hex Haywire

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Disclaimer and Reminder; this is based on the characters made by NIJISANJI, not the people behind the character voicing them. If in the future the person expresses or states that fics of this nature makes them uncomfortable I will 100% remove this or anything I write about the characters involved.

F,M,GN?: GN

Warning: Ren swearing like once? Other than that none

Word count: 958

Authors note: Listen if I had to pick one man from each group to take care of me it would be these four. I'm being selfish, I'm sick, and biased but I hope you enjoy regardless. (This is also really short, I wanted to write some feel good stuff, I'm sorry)

Reminder that my requests are open! If you wanna send me one please do!

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Vox is very observant and notices you're a little off right away

He takes to canceling whatever he and you have on your schedule today

You have errands to run, laundry to do, homework to do? Too bad you've been bed ridden

He refuses to let you put any stress on until you're 100% better

Vox takes you home and sets you up to be comfortable

"I have to make a quick run to the grocery store, call me if you need me for anything"

He really was quick because it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes before he returns with an arms full of groceries

He fixes you a cup of tea, checking your temperature while you sip on it

Vox rummages around in the groceries and pulls out some fever reducers and gives them to you to take

While you relax he makes you the best soup you've ever had

You didn't realize how hungry you were until you ate, Vox is just happy you're enjoying his cooking

Vox insists on staying the night and won't take no for an answer

He may be a (voice) demon but he's a demon who cares for his clan

Sonny works a lot so he's a little slow to figure out your sick

It was a cough in the middle of a sentence you tried to suppress that got him

Once he realizes your sick, similar to Vox, he sends you home immediately making sure you are not doing anything else except for focusing on getting better

He ties up things at work quickly so he can come over and take care of you, he even takes a couple days off just for good measure

You're not expecting the VSF Commander knocking at your door with your favorite comfort food, meds, and vitamins

But you know it's always welcome

After he makes sure you eat he cleans up for you and then suggests you go lie down on the couch

Sonny does some light food prep for you so you don't have to strain yourself when your hungry

You fade in and out of consciousness while you watch Sonny Brisko putt around your home taking care of little things

When you eventually drift off to sleep he gently checks your temperature with his hand and deems you stable enough to carry to your bed

After tucking you in he can't in good conscience leave, what if something happens??

Sonny grabs a wet cloth to place on your head and eventually sits by the edge of you bed to watch over you

He too eventually passes out and when you wake up you see him there...

You feel safe and cared for knowing Sonny is at arms reach, just for you.

Ren is still learning about human culture

So when your voice comes out horse, he laughs and asks

"What's up with your voice?"

You explain to him that you aren't feeling well today and apologize

"YOUR SICK!? Oh shit uh I've been told about how to deal with this! Let me help you? Please."

How could you say no to him

Ren whisks you away to your room stating it was crucial for humans to get plenty of rest when they aren't feeling well

You can't argue with that and tell Ren you'll take a nap

Once he's sure you're asleep, he runs out to the pharmacy

He returns with almost the entire pharmacy, just in case....

You awake again when Ren places a towel on your head

He smiles down at you hand hands you some water as you sit up

"Staying hydrated is also important when you're sick, the towel thing is also important for... something probably"

You laugh as he rustles around grabbing something else

He hands you a fist full of pills, that's when you notice the stack of medicine boxes behind him

You gently explain to him that taking that amount of medicine could potentially make you more sick

You list off a few medicine names and he hands them to and you take them

"I guess I still have a few things to learn when it comes to taking care of humans..."

You gently squeeze his hands and thank him for being here, because being sick alone is scary

You're lucky Ren is here

Being sick often, Hex hones in that your feeling sick before you do

"You should head home. You're sick."

You're dumbfounded you had stuff that needed to be done, but your thoughts of work are interrupted by the oncoming of a splitting migraine

Resigning with a sigh you excuse yourself to your home

Not two minutes after you settle into bed you get a knock at your door

You're greeted by Hex carrying his favorite soup for the both of you

You invite him in and he asks you to sit and he'll grab anything you need

While the two of you eat Hex turns into a mother hen and asks you for all your symptoms and how your feeling, constantly checking on you

Hex is honestly an angel, he cleans up after you eat, grabs your medicine from your medicine cabinet, he even offers to do any chores you need immediate help with

You feel selfish for making him worry

He assures you that you'd do the same for him, you have done the same for him

It's the least he can do to help ease the burden while your sick

He helps you back to bed and meekly asks if you want him to stay

You'd be honored to have him stay especially since he's such a good caretaker

You thank him for his help and again he says he's just happy to look after you

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#nijisanji en #illuna #luxiem #noctyx #xsoliel #hexgaywire headcanons #vox akuma #sonny brisko #ren zotto #hex haywire #vox akuma x reader #sonny brisko x reader #ren zotto x reader #hex haywire x reader #vox akuma headcanons #sonny brisko headcanons #ren zotto headcannons #hex haywire headcanons #vox x reader #sonny x reader #ren x reader #hex x reader #sfw

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Warning: Murray stupidly pushes Steve into outing himself. There is a happy ending. Shoutout to the person who recently posted about this and gave me the idea.

Steve looked around at the party, a warm smile on his face. Joyce was sitting in Hopper's lap as they talked to Claudia and Sue. Judging by the looks on Sue and Claudia's faces, they were boasting about him again. He doesn't understand why they felt the need to brag so much or why they made sure he heard it as often as he could stand it. They were celebrating the fact that the fourth of July was over and that there wouldn't be any more fireworks to retraumatize them. They were also celebrating the fact that they were all alive and well, the gates closed hopefully forever. Steve was sitting off by himself after having chased the kids around the Hoppers' new and spacious backyard with Eddie. Steve was tired, but Eddie somehow managed to keep going and now had Mike in a headlock.

"Finish him!" Erica hollered, causing Hopper and Jonathan to snort into their cups.

Steve laughed. That's when Murray plopped down in the empty chair next to him.

"I'm not sure if I like that kid or if I'm afraid of her," Murray said.

"I'm pretty sure she could have taken down Vecna just by talking to him," Steve said.

"I do not doubt it," Murray cackled.

Mike finally surrendered to Eddie, and he let go of him, cheering loudly. Steve smiled at him, his heart fluttering. Eddie winked at him, and his cheeks flushed red. Nancy cheered and clapped. Mike flipped her off, and Jonathan threw his empty cup at Mike's forehead, and when Mike yelled, Jonathan claimed he was aiming for the trashcan.

"Those two kids still together?" Murray asked.

"Mike and Jonathan never dated. At least, I hope not," Steve said, his brow furrowing.

"No! Nancy and Jonathan!" Murray scowled.

"Oh, yeah, no. They're friends, Nancy wanted to focus on school," Steve said.

"Sounds about right considering I was the one who pushed them together," Murray said.

"You were?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, she was dating this complete dud she clearly had no feelings for," Murray said. "I was all, 'we like Steve, but we don't love Steve'. Hey, you know, you have the same name as him."

"Yeah, it's funny how that works. Poor Steve, right?" He said. "They never love him. I'm the very same Steve, dumbass."

"Don't you like guys?" Murray asked.

"What the fuck?" Steve said, staring at him wide eyes, his cheeks flushed. "No, I don't!"

"I'm not gonna judge you, Harrington," Murray said, rolling his eyes. "I'm gay too. Safe space for you and your boyfriend over there."

"What business of it of yours?" Steve snapped. "And Eddie's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, do you guys need a little push too?" Murray scoffed.

"You do know bisexuals exist, right?" He asked, gripping his cup.

"Yeah, and are you?" Murray asked, amused at how mad Steve was getting.

"It's not any of your goddamn business!" He snarled at him.

"Are you still hung up on Nancy?" Murray continued to push.

"No!" Steve rolled his eyes, wanting this conversation to be over.

He stared ahead, not looking at him. Everyone was still conversing and horsing around while Steve was stuck, having the most awkward conversation of his life. Murray's words from earlier rolling around in his head.

"So, you don't have feelings for him?" He asked.

"I do, okay!" He exclaimed.

"Then what's the problem?" Murray asked.

"We don't love Steve, remember?" Steve growled at him, tear prickling at the corners of his eyes, and suddenly, he was back at Tina's party.

He stood up suddenly, knocking his chair back harshly, causing everyone to look at him.

"Steve, honey, are you okay?" Joyce asked.

"Oh, he's just being a little sensitive, Joyce," Murray replied.

Sensitive. The same word that Steve’s father used to call him when he didn't want to say the word. He always knew about Steve and the fact that he was too sensitive. Steve whirled around, and before he knew what he was doing, his fist was colliding with Murray's face and knocking him out of his chair. There were several gasps, and Murray cackled.

"There's no need to be ashamed of yourself, Steve," he said.

"I have never been ashamed that I also like men, and I am not ashamed that I like Eddie!" Steve yelled at him.

Suddenly, he realized that he just outed himself in front of everyone. Steve felt very overwhelmed. Well, Robin and Dustin already knew. Steve quickly apologized and ran around to the front to head towards his car. He pulled out his keys, but his hands were shaking so badly that he kept dropping them. He got to his driver's side door when he dropped them again. He squatted down to pick them up when he saw someone else's hand reach down to do the same. He looked up to find Eddie squatting next to him.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie said softly. "He had no right to push you like that."

Steve hadn't realized he had been crying until Eddie cupped his face and wiped away a tear with his thumb. He could hear the distinct voice of Joyce yelling in the backyard. They stood up, and Steve collapsed into Eddie's open arms. He shoved his face into Eddie's shoulder as he sobbed.

"We like Steve, but we don't love Steve. That's what he said," Steve whispered.

"Please tell me that you don't believe that shit, man," Eddie said. "Because everyone here loves you. . . Including me. Especially me."

"You love me?" Steve said, his voice small.

"Yep, in a very not straight way. I also like men," Eddie said. "I'm not ashamed of it either."

"I want to kiss you," Steve said softly.

"Right here? I'm okay with it if you are," Eddie said.

Steve pressed his lips to Eddie's, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling the metalhead against him. His lips were soft against his own, and then Eddie pressed his lips hard against his as he deepened the kiss. Eddie wrapped his arms tightly around Steve’s shoulders as he tried to press himself further against him. Eddie broke the kiss, gently nibbling on Steve’s lip as he pulled away. Steve leaned his forehead against Eddie's, sniffling.

"I love you too, Eddie," Steve whispered.

"See, I knew you needed a push," Murray said.

Steve peered around to see him coming around the house, being dragged by Joyce and Hopper. Murray's nose was bleeding heavily. It was also clearly broken.

"Did I do that?" Steve asked.

"No. It was hard to tell who broke his nose, Sue or Claudia," Hopper said, chuckling. "But it was definitely Joyce who knocked his tooth lose."

"It's still hanging in there. Oh, and there it goes," Murray said.

"By the way, you didn't do shit!" Eddie exclaimed. "Fuck you and your tooth!"

"Yeah, I had a special evening planned tomorrow where I was going to make him dinner and then tell him, so thank you for that," Steve said. "With or without you, I would have told him."

"Wait, really?" Eddie asked with wide eyes. "Even though this jackass ruined your big reveal, can we still have dinner together tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it can be our first date," Steve said, smiling softly.

"You mean our first date wasn't our trip through the Upside Down together?" Eddie asked, and Steve laughed, shaking his head. "How about I do the cooking, big boy?"

Murray made a half assed apology before leaving. That's when Sue and Claudia came through with the kids following behind them. Sue, Claudia, and Robin started fussing over him.

"Oh, honey, are alright?" Sue asked.

"I'm much better, thanks, Sue," Steve said and pulled out of Eddie's arms to welcome her embrace.

"Oh, sweetie, we just want you to know that we love you," Claudia said.

"Yeah, we're proud of you, baby," Sue said, rubbing his shoulder.

"Yes, we love you, too, Steve," El said. "You and Eddie are cute."

"It's awesome!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Uh, why are Erica and Max whispering with their heads pressed together?" Steve asked.

"Uh, well, they said they were plotting Murray's death, but it was hard to tell if they were joking or not, and I wasn't going to ask," Lucas said.

"You guys really love me, huh?" Steve asked.

"Of course, sweetheart, you're family," Joyce said. "After everything you've done, it would be pretty shitty of us not to accept you."

"Yeah, you're our brother in arms," Lucas said.

"Our paladin," Will said with a proud grin.

"Our protector," El said.

"Our washed-up jock," Erica said with a fond smile.

"Our mother," Max said with an amused smile.

"Our kid," Sue, Claudia, Charles, Joyce, and Hopper said.

"My platonic soulmate," Robin said with a twinkle in her eye.

"My boyfriend?" Eddie asked.

"Your boyfriend," Steve said as he choked on his happy tears.

He swooped in and kissed his boyfriend in front of his entire family.

#stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things s4 #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #steve gets outed #murray bauman is a creep #he's also an asshole #the party #the hendersons and sinclairs adopt steve

[medusapelagia]

Battle cry

written for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘Fool’ wc: 454 rated: M TW: blood, injuries, war, battlefield, cliffhanger

(I had the idea of trying to write a longer fic using Steddie Microfic Prompts, I don’t know if this will work out! This fic is intended as a sequel to I’ll make you proud but can also be read as a stand-alone)

Their camp is burning.

The ground is dripping blood and the soldiers are screaming and running while Steve stares at the huge creature that's standing in front of him.

At his side, Robin, his squire, is trying to drag him away from the battlefield: their enemies have a fucking dragon, and there is no way they can even hope to defeat them. But Steve isn’t moving. His eyes pinned in the dragon's ruby ones. The creature's nostrils flare and he snorts some smoke, trying to intimidate the prince. There's no need. Steve is already terrified. Still. He can't retreat. He must protect his men and his family, or at least die trying to.

"Run," Steve says to Robin, without turning.

"Steve! Don't be foolish! You can't fight a dragon!" She insists, her grip around the boy's arm even tighter.

"I know, but I can still buy you some time."

The dragon is studying him like a big cat ready to jump and catch the mouse he's playing with.

"Think about Eddie! Think about your kid!" Robin begs, her eyes full of tears, but she has been at Steve's side since he was a child, and she knows that she'll not be able to convince him.

"Listen to me." Steve says, his hand already on the hilt of his swords, "We don't know how many dragons they have, but if this is the only one and I manage to keep him busy long enough for you to get back to the castle, we might still have a chance," he whispers, "Find Dustin. Tell him that they have a dragon. I'm sure he'll come up with some clever plan."

For a brief moment, Steve turns toward Robin with a sad smile, then he pushes her away and starts running toward the dragon. He's on foot, he lost his horse during the fight and all he has now are his sword and the medallion with Eddie's mischievous expression. He didn't even have the time to add their son's portrait.

His armor clangs while he gets closer to the enormous creature that stares back at him. Some soldiers try to stop him. An arrow, coming from Steve’s blind side, finds its way under his arm. Steve yelps but keeps going, feeling the blood pouring down his arm: if he's not quick the arrow will kill him before the dragon.

There's a flare of fire at Steve's side and he barely avoids getting burned. He rolls on the ground, whimpering when he hits the ground where the arrowhead is still embedded, and when he finally stops he's so close to the dragon that can count all his scales.

Steve lets out a battle cry.

And then the dragon hits.

(Do I have an idea about how to continue this? Yes, I do and I need at least 2 more prompts that I can use... maybe three to get it more coherent but who cares XD)

#steddie #steddie microfic #steddie microfic april #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficapril #myfanfic #my fanfic #medusapelagia #medusapelagia fanfic #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steve x Eddie #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Steddie Fic

[shootingmorningstar]

I was wondering if you're okay writing an Angel Dust. M!Reader. More specifically Drag Angel Dust. I haven't seen anyone make these before so this is an original idea. A one-shot if perfect, but you can do whatever you want. You can do this as smut or fluff, it doesn't matter! Have a great rest of your day!!

I absolutely can ~ .ᐟ By drag I assume you mean a drag queen, let me know if I misunderstood .ᐣ

I'm not too experienced in writing for Angel Dust so I wanted to do something a little less pressure to start him off, I hope a ficlet is alright .ᐣ This prompt got away from me a little and ended up being tooth rottingly sweet, haha.

total wc ; 1.1k

DRAG ANGEL DUST X MALE READER.

Hearing Valentino had temporarily shifted Angel Dust's line of work had been surprising to say the very least -- the change was not an unwelcome one in the slightest, but with just how sought after your boyfriend was in the porn industry, anything that appeared like it might be a potential financial loss for the Overlord seemed vastly out of character.

Still, never a sinner to look a gift horse in the mouth, the news he had brought home with him after a day of particularly rough shoots had been one to be celebrated. Being contracted under Val would never be easy, sure, but this sounded like a step up from being used and abused, thrown around as if he was a doll and subjected to the moth's inhumane treatment, right? Angel's first show would be in just a few days from now and you had been thrilled.

Gathering you and Angel's closest friends hadn't proved hard -- all you'd had to do was swing open the doors to his home, the Hazbin Hotel. It had been through Angel Dust you had met the people gathered in the lobby, true, but they had managed to become your family as well. Seeing the person you loved most changing himself to be better had filled you with pride, the feeling warming you right down to your very soul, and although he had done most of the work needed to improve, the person to spark that change was none other than the Princess of Hell herself -- the exact same Princess who grabs your hands and squeals excitedly as you break the news to her.

A proper celebration is planned in what seems like no time at all -- the plans, while initially your idea, quickly slip through your fingers, Charlie's enthusiasm leading her to take the reigns before she'd even realized what she'd done.

Largely courtesy of Alastor and Lucifer, the hotel soon became filled to the brim with banners, balloons, brilliant lights and thanks to Husk, free flowing booze. Each and every part of the decor is something you're sure Angel will adore, and seeing the way he strolls through the doors, the scowl on his face quickly replaced with that of awe, your assumptions are proved correct. Rushing to his side, a quick murmur of ❛ congratulations, love ❜ is spoken softly into his ear as each and every one of his arms come around you, crushing you to him. Charlie's second to approach, an outfit so flashy in hand it had Velvette written all over it.

❛ We're so happy about your promotion, Angel! ❜ She chimes, a stray tear having built itself into the corner of her eyes. Waiting until he's pulled back from his hug to offer her gift forward, the dress coming alongside an explanation. ❛ We thought you could get some practice in with us before having to go on stage! Now go, take him, ❜ she says, shoving you towards a makeshift dressing room, ❛ and go get ready for your party! No excuses, mister! ❜

Thrilled to go along with what Charlie had said, you take his intended outfit for the night in one hand and Angel's hand in the other, ushering him to follow alongside you. It's not until the pair of you are alone for the first time this evening that he speaks up again. ❛Were you th'one who planned this whole thing, doll? ❜ And with your nod, a look of gratitude glazes over his eyes, his expression offering his silent thanks as he grips your hand just that little bit tighter.

It's not hard to tell that Angel's still unused to receiving acts of kindness. His reaction only serves to endear him to you further, however, and you show him just that by pressing a kiss onto his forehead.

Undressing him from the outfit today's shoot required was a quiet affair, affection laced through your movements as you remove his suit button by button, shifting your focus only when you're done with that to the other accessories he adorns -- his bowtie falling first, followed by his gloves and finishing with his boots. The dress Charlie had selected was nothing short of stunning, an entirely crimson red bodice laced with intricate black detailing, long sleeves stopping only at his hands and a trail touching the floor below both from the arms and towards the bottom, leaving only a sense of mystery where his long legs usually stand proudly on display. You assist him in stepping into the ensemble, your touch delicate as you raise the zipper so as to not catch any of his silky fur in its teeth.

Standing back to admire your work thus far, you brush your fingers against his cheek, palm cradling the side of his face for just a moment before pulling away. ❛ You look exquisite. Sit, please? I've already got your makeup ready, love. ❜

Not wanting to keep the star of tonight's show away for too long, you do your best to speed along the process without tarnishing his beauty -- by the time you're finished, eyeshadow and lipstick alike to match his dress in the most stunning shade of cardinal accentuate the femininity of his facial features, the look truly only complete when you've applied his lashes. Offering your hand once more, you assist your boyfriend to his feet, guiding him to the mirror and encouraging him to finally take in his appearance, to see the results of the love you'd poured into his look.

From head to toe, he looks absolutely stunning. There was no lack of faith from him that he wouldn't -- he knows his looks, prides himself on them, but the emotional little huff that slips past his lips betrays just how he'd really felt. There's a world of difference between how he appears when dolled up by Valentino's employees not paid enough to care how he's feeling and you in contrast, every touch filled with your affections. ❛ C'mon, they're waiting on us. This is all for you, Angel. Every single person out there adores you, just like I do. ❜

You hadn't had it in you to release your hold on his and, and intending to use that very grasp to pull him back towards the lobby, you're surprised when it's him instead pulling you back, bringing you close and stealing a kiss. Gratified by the affection he'd managed to nab from you, he takes charge. His life doesn't often give him the opportunity to be in control, so he cherishes it now, leading you back to take center stage around the sinners who he cares about most.

And there we are .ᐟ As always, hearing what you guys have to say about my work means the world and keeps me writing .ᐟ If you like what you read, consider leaving me a like or a comment .ᐣ I'd really appreciate it. Till next time ~ .ᐟ

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #hazbin angel #angel dust x reader #male reader #angel x reader #hazbin x reader #draq queen angel dust #admin kitty

[fdrsamericanflagduckfloaty]

Drop the Miku Binder TJ rant bestie

okay so like

i was just thinking about it, and, like, i think it's fucking nuts but also really weird how the hamilton fandom (which i'm in but i swear i'm not an uwu lams turtles shipper please) somehow took this CRUSTY, TERF-BANGED, UGLY, OLD, REDHEADED, RAPIST ASS MOTHERFUCKER,

and turned his ugly ass into this.

like damn what the hell- what- how???? okay like yeah, they're using daveed diggs as a base for this bullshit, which, okay, fine, but YOU DID NOT NEED TO ADD THE INFO. The idea itself is funny but also a bit weird, however im 99% sure Diggs himself wore that shirt. However, all of the extra info??? come on. Where'd the fandom get this istg y'all-

Also, also, they did something similar by making John Laurens (gay blonde dumbass) into an UWU turtles boy. ....why. Bi trash coffee gremlin tumblr over-worked sleep-deprived alexander hamilton. like yeah relatable but. why. small bean big sweater uwu innocent boy blushy short james madison. ...why. bro was stubborn and would pick a fight and was the 'fuck you' type of shy.

I just find it wild the fandom made this and it is the entirety of the fandom into one. There's the good sides, there's the bad, and there's this. Which encompasses the ENTIRE. FUCKING. FANDOM.

The fandom has its headcanons, it has its perks, but then you reach the side where everyone is just a wild fucking original character. They don't model the historical figures anymore- they're just OCs with the name 'Philip Hamilton' or 'John Laurens' or god forbid our third U.S president 'Thomas Jefferson' slapped onto it.

I'm also so confused as to how this is what the fandom is known for. We have some good fics, we have hella good art, we have a M U S I C A L , and then the first thought people have of the Ham fandom is Miku Binder Third President Founding Fucker Slaveowner Thomas Jefferson.

I also find it kind of offensive (almost put insluting oh my ufckjg-) that they made a founder become this but like he'd probably be really pissed so please keep fucking up his memory lmao he deserves it

But like... also why. What made them think of this.

Like yeah I write 20k word TR smut but you don't see me drawing it.

You don't see me making him an UWU e-boy.

...Eh I probably would for shits and giggles tbh

But like this is founding father Thomas Jefferson. Third Pres. Second VP. First Sec. of State. And he is a furry, ex-cocaine addict. Also btw do they mean John Laurens or John Adams as the former drug dealer part because neither are better but it'd really help

Also bro literally raped his 14 year old slave and had like 6 kids with her. He had her room DIRECTLY NEXT TO HIS. He RAPED HIS DEAD WIFE'S HALF-SISTER. AND HE'S A SAD UWU MAN WHO DID NOTHING WRONG?

Let's not forget this same person made a post saying Lizzie (the Queen) would be reincarnated as a horse when she died. I'm serious. Deadass.

However, it's also funny as fuck because this entire thing is a tarnish to Jefferson and I fucking HATE that bastard so like good job lol

At the same time though it's still super weird??? But insane??? Because how did this become one of the Tumblr exclusives??? like it's Tumblr history at this point. Twitter history. You cannot express any like for the Hamilton musical before you get the 'have you seen miku binder thomas jefferson' and it's like 'well shit'.

But also remember: THIS IS NOT AN OC TO FUCK AROUND WITH. Hamilton the Musical specifically gave you and presented you the founder. Thomas Jefferson. Played by Daveed Diggs. Just because it is played by a POC, but also modernized, and vastly different from the actual founder and President, does not mean that at its core it is NOT STILL THE SAME PERSON.

If you name it Thomas Jefferson, if you use the presentation of him given by Daveed Diggs, you are still using that white fucking slave-owning racist motherfucker, and that's the point of it all.

I find it stupid but funny but also insane, and I wouldn't care, unless I KNEW IT WAS SERIOUS. The artist made it seriously. They made John Laurens. They made Philip Hamilton. They did this seriously.

but like also look at this lmao

This meme of Thomas Jefferson in a Hatsune Miku binder really got trending on Twitter at one point

It's an infamous, hellish, classic meme of both Tumblr and the Hamilton fandom, and it deserves what attention it's got, but Jesus please never unironically make shit like this again, Hamilfans, we're stained by this we don't need another😭🔫

EDIT:

i have more

So like, I just remembered: it kinda romanticizes these guys??? The musical??? so like don't get me wrong i love the music but... it puts them into this light. This pink light. It paints Hamilton as an abolitionist who was outspoken about it. When, in reality, dude traded and sold slaves for his in-laws + wasn't all that outspoken about it + was against immigrants or migrants, WHEN DUDE WAS FROM THE ISLANDS. HE HAD SCOTTISH BLOOD. AND HE'S AGAINST IT? Hypocrisy at its finest.

Washington also owned slaves and ran his own plantation too, so he's not off the hook. Madison, the 'uwu small bean' of the fandom, also owned slaves and ran a plantation. So the main people of this entire fiasco are slave-owners. Perfect. But also I've heard Ron Chernow's book on Hamilton, the entire start of the musical, is a bit biased to Ham himself, so...

You could be saying 'but FDRsduckfloaty, Sally is mentioned!' yes. But however, not enough. Not more. It's not even implied more than potentially ONCE what he did, and I'm not sure it ever was! Cabinet battle 3 states it flat-out but it was cut. For your info, Ben Franklin and John Adams are the only two you can really like in the slavery aspect. Ben bought them but let them go for their freedom, and John detested slavery and was against it. Never owned one.

Jefferson did add a slavery clause to the declaration but it was discarded, and he didn't fight half as much as he could have. Maybe he did and since it was the 1700s he didn't have a lot of support, but surely he could've done something like, I don't know, call it out after his terms? Once you're done gaining your second term and out of office, they can't do shit to it or your presidency, since it's over.

So the musical itself has its own problem and the fandom is even worse. It blatantly disregards that a LOT. A hella lot of the amrev fandom + a small part of the ham fandom has called TJeffs out for it but I mean can we please not make shit like Miku Binder Jefferson and act like he wasn't an actual child rapist???

This video does pretty well at it. I will admit the tagline 'America then, told by America now' almost sends shivers down my spine for what it really means. But then again I find men not knowing they'd make it down into the history books for starting the world's global power and the world's economic powerhouse pretty interesting. Doing something big and knowing it's historical, but not that it's going to form a very, VERY large country, where you'll be honored down the road and called a Founding Father of an entire nation? Signing papers and not knowing they're the founding stones of a country and still looked up to today? Intriguing.

But like still fuck Thomas Jefferson lmao

there's a lot more videos on it that dig deep, but the point is, that Hamilton is a good musical with good songs but it's also very... complex, and a bit problematic, Thomas Jefferson is a little bitch, and you should stan 1776 before you ever stan Hamilton. 1776 does not do this. It is much more realistic. 1776 has Benjamin Franklin and that's an immediate win. Be more like a 1776, be less like a Hamilton.

#miku binder thomas jefferson #thomas jefferson #this is the rant that woulda stayed in drafts #rant post #hamilton fandom #not just hamilton no no the fandom itself

[bonearenaofmyskull]

I am still watching s3 so maybe I am a fool to ask this question but I don't wanna be a delulu when it comes to m/m ships, that too from 2013-15 but like was Will truly like truly jealous of Bedelia 🫠 I saw in Reddit that he was but then I saw other posts saying he's not and that he only wanted her to pay the price . So like is hannigraham one sided canon ? I am fine with that too . I am used to it after spn finale. 😭

I'm not on Reddit so I couldn't speak to what's being said there. I'm barely on here any more, frankly. I couldn't begin to respond to assertions that I'd only be imagining what their logic and evidence is, especially when my memory of all the details is growing dim.

But moreover these Hannigram questions from Reddit I keep hearing about are all dead horses that the meta writers who were around #BackInMyDay have beaten enough to prompt a social worker to climb out of them.

I'm happy to hear that Reddit has a living community of Hannibal fans who are actively debating their interpretations of the show, and that the show is growing new sets of fans to immerse themselves into these interpretations and debates. And if that's so, then if there are those who have taken up the mantle to argue against those things that I believe, then I'm sure there are those who can and have and will take up the mantle to argue for the things I believe as well.

If you want to become one of those people but feel like you need to do a lot of research to get to the point where you're ready, here are the blogs that were active writing meta in my day. Many of them are inactive or have moved on to other things, but I'm sure you can find a wealth of knowledge in their "hannibal meta" tags, or just by looking around their blogs for how they've tagged their own work:

@existingcharactersdiehorribly

@22drunkb

@genufa

@the-winnowing-wind

@wellntruly

@after-the-ellipsis

Please understand I'm not sending you to their inboxes per se, but to the wealth of work that they've already produced. If they still want to field questions about Hannibal or Hannigram, I'm sure they can let you know, here or elsewhere. Please just be polite: I have gotten a great deal of very demanding and entitled messages of late, whether people are coming from Reddit or elsewhere, but that's not the social norm on Tumblr and never has been to my knowledge: much like AO3, people will make updates when the spirit moves them, not on demand.

#bear answers #hannibal #hannibal meta #if i wanted to answer questions on reddit #i would get on reddit

[zeroandvoid]

I sure like running

Eyebrows rising when I hear the screeching tires

I wasn't expecting you this time

You couldn't get here fast enough, sure felt like flying

Still, you're not getting to me, you will never catch me

You're quick but I'm used to charging at high speed

You think I have fun with your feelings, but I don't do word play

I feel like we already rambled long enough anyway

I will get away in any outlaw train

Any method of transportation works, I won't stop or stay

I will go on foot, even if it hurts

I will get, I will go my way

I will not let you catch up to me

You have gambled on the wrong horse

No, you can't take charge of me

I don't take orders well but you will always know how I feel

Unless, of course, you just don't want to

I'm wild but a part of me is human, I only do what I want to do

You should know already, that I will never feel enough for you

I will ditch anybody at anytime

I will never bother to leave on good terms

There are no conditions we may establish

You're not even last on my list

You might like when I hurtle, but I will never be your safest bet

I'm not playing hard to get, I'm just not that into you

I'm no goody two-shoes

I'm not polite or well behaved

I will walk, I will run barefoot if I have to

I will stay when I want to stay, but I rarely do

I'm naked, transparent, anyone can see me

I sure like running, but I don't dance around my feelings

Diana M.

#poetry #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #original poem #original poetry

[mydetheturk]

Title: Hell, I'm Dead Anyway

Author: mydetheturk

Rating: M (for safety)

Word Count: 2,710

Warnings: Vomiting, Panic Attacks, Crying, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Wolfwood's Going Through The Horrors, Hallucinations

Summary: Wolfwood cracked too many ampules. Meryl and Vash can only keep him comfortable while he recovers.

~~

Day 3 of @mashwoodweek! I chose "Ghosts" for reasons that will be Revealed in the fic. There's also a sprinkling of the poetry prompt "Tell me every terrible thing you've done, and let me love you anyway."

Title is from The Dark Tower Vol 2: The Drawing of the Three by Stephen King

(read on AO3)

There's some content warnings in the replies, if you're reading in the dash view and want to have some idea as to what's going down.

~~

Meryl worries, when her boys get into gun fights. Vash can dodge anything when he wants to, but Nick… Nick tends to soak up the bullets and crack an ampule and chug whatever serum is in them. And this last gun fight had been. Bad.

It'd been bad.

Nick had cracked the glasses at least twice that Meryl had seen, and Vash admitted to seeing another two, not to mention what might've happened when the three had been separated. When Meryl had found Nick again, he was leaning against a horse hitch and standing over black sludge, surrounded by bodies of some of the bounty hunters after Vash.

He'd thrown up black sludge before collapsing, all before Meryl could finish calling out to him.

Meryl's panicked scream had brought Vash running.

That was a couple of hours ago.

Meryl isn't sure how they got Nick in their motel room without anyone seeing them or Nick getting covered in vile, black goop. Meryl's been holed up in the bathroom with him, making sure he doesn't die. Vash hasn't been allowed back in since Nick looked at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes and stopped breathing out of panic. It took about thirty seconds of stillness before Nick sucked in a ragged breath and vomited up more of the black goop, the tears in the corners of his eyes spilling over.

Vash had bolted, and he's been pacing back and forth in their motel room since, bringing Meryl whatever she's asked for. She's only seen something like this once out of Nick since they stuck together after July. It almost killed him then, and it feels like it's killing him now.

It's been a while since he last coughed up the black, rotten goop, and while his vision isn't totally clear, Nick actually looked at her when she called his name, so Meryl's taking it as a win.

“Nick? Baby?” Nick's so pretty eyes blink at her, unseeing. Meryl puts her hand on his cheek, and he pulls back weakly. “I'm going to have to get Vash in here. I can't move you myself. Okay?”

“Shl'dn' touch… hurt you…” Nick wheezes, and Meryl's heart cracks.

“You can't hurt a kitten right now, baby,” Meryl says. She kisses his sweaty forehead.

Nick's too hot, but they don't have a tub with their room, just the tiny closet that holds the toilet and sink. Meryl and Vash will have to get whatever they can to get him cooled down. She just needs to get Nick on the bed, first.

Nick hacks up another lungful of bile into the toilet, wheezing weakly. Meryl runs her hand across his shoulders until he slumps back.

“'m good. Be good. Won't run again,” he whispers. He's staring out past Meryl, at something only he can see. “'m sorry.” His hands keep clenching and unclenching and small shivers wrack his frame.

“Child assassin, made to grow up too fast,” Nick had told her, drunk on bathtub gin and grief. Meryl's put those words in a little box to examine when she has moments to herself. Trying to demand anything of Zazie doesn't work, but what the Worm's Voice has implied has been horrific.

“Vash!” Meryl calls over her shoulder. She doesn't want to corner Nick in the tiny bathroom, but they've gotta get him cooled down.

Vash nearly runs Meryl over in his haste. He's glowing slightly, whorls flickering into existence from his eyes outward. “Is he–”

“He's too hot. It's making him delirious,” Meryl says. She tries not to think about the couple of pictures of tiny baby Nico Miss Melanie had shown her with golden eyes too old for his soft baby face. She doesn't know how successful she is with controlling her voice, given how Vash pales with her words.

“Will – will he let me touch him?” Vash whispers. He hovers at the door, not wanting to put more stress on Nick.

“I don't think it's gonna be a will he, Vash. I think you’re just going to have to,” Meryl says, just as quiet. Nick's lips are moving but no words are coming out, and he's staring not at her but past her. His whole frame trembles and his breath keeps skipping. “We need to cool him off.”

Vash takes a couple of deep breaths and steps in, deliberately making noise. Nick twitches back, eyes flicking in Vash's direction. He's ashy under his tan, the ever so faint freckles just darker than his normal skin tone standing out.

Meryl doesn't know what ghosts he's seeing.

But she wants to find the remains of Millions Knives and use the Punisher's laser to make sure he isn't coming back. She wants to find whoever Legato is and hurt him for hurting Nick.

“I'm so sorry, Nicholas,” Vash says. He kneels down, and Meryl scoots out of his way. She can't really haul Nick around the way he can her – he's too dense and she's too short. “I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe.” Vash keeps his words low and soft and unhurried as he carefully takes Nick in his arms. Nick tries to get away, flinching and spitting and full of panic, but there's only so far he can get in the confines of the bathroom.

Nick's crying silently by the time Vash gets his arms around his torso.

“I know, I know,” Vash says. “I'm sorry.” He presses his cheek to Nick's. “I'm standing up now, Wolfwood. There we are.” Vash rolls to his feet, dragging Nick with him. Meryl moves up as well, drawn to them magnetically. Nick can barely keep his feet under him, he's shaking so hard. Vash keeps murmuring to him and there's a sound Meryl can feel coming from Vash's chest. “We're gonna walk now. I've got you. I'll let you go in a moment.” Vash backs them out the door, staring forward at the back wall of the bathroom the entire time. He keeps going until the backs of his legs hit the bed and then Vash turns, shifting Nick until he's the one with the mattress in the back of his knees. Meryl helps Vash manhandle Nick into the bed proper; Vash's hands don't linger the few times he touches Nick's skin.

“Can you run water as cold as the sink will get it, Vash?” Meryl says once they've got Nick as comfortable as they can. There's an expression on his face that says he can tell more about what's happening than Meryl can. She's not sure he'll say anything, though.

Vash uses his prosthetic fingertips to shift Nick's hair off his forehead. Nick’s eyes scrunch closed and he tries to pull back, but he doesn’t make it far. Tears streak in varying directions across his face, across the bridge of his nose when he looks away from Vash. “Yeah. Just a second.” With a heavy sigh, Vash grabs up some fabric – a towel, a spare shirt, things like that.

Meryl takes a moment to get Nick's shirt the rest of the way unbuttoned, exposing his torso to the hotel room. Placing her hand over his heart, she feels the way it jumps a little and his breathing catches. He’s scared and verging on passing out from his panic and what he was seeing.

Meryl's breath stutters on an exhale.

He's so stupid.

She lost Vash once, no matter that he came back; Meryl can't lose Nick too. Her breath hiccups and she chokes back a cry.

“Hey.” Vash taps her shoulder with his flesh hand, the glove off so she can see his hand fully when she turns her head to look at him.

“Yeah?” Meryl hates how small her voice is.

“Nicholas is stubborn,” Vash says. “I'm sure he'll pull through.”

Meryl wants to believe him. She does.

But the sense-memory of when Nick killed the man that had been the boy Rollo to save Vash's life rolls through her bones anyway. She doesn't want that for Nick.

Instead of voicing this, she holds out her hands for whatever Vash had taken with him to the bathroom. The fabric in her hands isn't super cold, but it's cooler than the air around them. Carefully, Meryl drapes the smallest pieces of fabric over the pulse points of his head and arms, saving the wet shirt (which is one of Vash’s) for Nick's torso, folding it in half and laying it across his chest.

It's not heat exhaustion or stroke, but she's not sure how else to handle it. They'll have to try getting some water in him at some point so he doesn't get dehydrated.

For now, it's all she can do.

“I'll make sure the bathroom is clean,” Vash says. “We don't want the lady at the desk getting angry with us. Innkeepers talk.” He says this lightly, but there's a look in his eyes. Meryl's sure the same look is in hers.

She pulls her eyes away from Vash's far too blue ones and casts a glance around their room. Something is missing. With a second, more thorough look, Meryl realizes what it is.

“We left the Punisher,” she says with dismay. It's been a few hours – she hopes no one stole it since they retreated to the motel room. Honestly, she's not sure how someone could; the gun so full of what Nick claims is mercy but is in actuality a horrifying number of bullets weighs more than Nick and Vash combined.

Vash's face falls, empty.

“I'll get it,” he says. “Stay here, I'll be back soon.”

“Hurry,” Meryl replies. She doesn't think the hunters who'd been after Vash earlier would strike again, but she doesn't want to risk it with Nick as bad off as he is.

“Of course. I always do.” Vash grabs the coat Nick's been wearing since July, sliding his arms through the sleeves like he never left it behind. Running his hand through his hair, it spikes up slightly. With his hair back and Nick's coat, he doesn't give off “Vash the Stampede.” It should hopefully be enough.

Nick's breathing evens out while Vash is out getting his gun. When Meryl checks on his pulse, it's still a little off, but going stronger than it had been.

Meryl drops her face into the mattress beside Nick's hip. “You're an idiot,” she whispers. She refuses to acknowledge the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes. “You stupid idiot, you can't do this to me.” She takes the closest hand in hers, threading their fingers together. Nick mumbles something incoherent.

Meryl's still refusing to cry when Vash comes back with the Punisher slung over his back. He looks a little worse, eyes red rimmed and tear tracks through the iridescent scales that show up when he starts glowing.

“How's he doing?” Vash asks. The Punisher makes a soft thump when Vash sets it down. The belts aren't quite right, but Meryl knows Nick will want to make sure his gun is fine when he wakes.

“Better,” Meryl says. “His heart though...” she trails off, biting her lip. There's nothing she can do; she's not a doctor, and Vash's 'profession' when he's going undercover is a Plant Engineer. Not to mention whatever he's got going on inside of him isn't going to be the same as Nick, who's definitely got something going on that a normal, unmodified human wouldn't have. There's no scars, but Meryl watches how he stretches his back, and it's unsettling to see how flexible it is. Sure, Nick broadened over the last couple of years, but there's something going on underneath.

Vash furrows his brow and moves to the other side of the bed they have Nick on. He places his ear to Nick's chest, eyes closing as he listens.

Vash blinks up at her after listening to Nick's chest for a moment. “I don't know if I can do anything for this, Meryl. His best bet might be...” Vash trails off.

The doctors at the Eye.

“Fuck,” Meryl says.

“Yeah.” Vash swallows. “That. That about sums it up.” He lets out a little giggle. It sounds about how Meryl's feeling.

Meryl laughs, a little hysterical thing. “It's going to be so fucking hard to make him not drink that fucking serum.” She's not even sure if there's a single member of the Eye that Nick trusts. From what Vash remembers of the fight on the sand steamer on their way to July, they were holding Nick's brother hostage as a way to make Nick work with them. Most of the people experimented on straight up die.

Vash stands back up and walks around the bed to wrap Meryl in his arms. She finally lets herself cry over the whole situation. “We'll let him heal,” Vash says. He's got that blank tone to his voice again. The one that makes Meryl sad and pisses Nick off. “If he gets worse, we'll head Home. Luida might be able to do something.”

Meryl's met a couple of the doctors on the ship. She hopes someone there can help.

At the moment, all they can do is wait and periodically cool the fabric they draped over Nick.

Meryl gets out her stack of reports and settles herself in the chair beside the bed. Vash cleans the bathroom within an inch of its life and then methodically cleans the Punisher before doing maintenance on his Colt. Both of them keep a desperate eye on Nick while they work. Its a little while longer before he finally slides into proper sleep, his breath deep and even. Something in Meryl's chest untangles at that. She hopes he's not having nightmares. Nick had looked at Vash and seen someone else. Meryl's pretty sure she knows who, since she sees blond hair and a beauty mark on the wrong side in her nightmares too.

Setting aside her reports, Meryl leans on the bed, pillowing her head on her crossed arms so she can stare at Nick. She loves an idiot with a sacrificial streak an ile wide and another idiot who has no sense of self-preservation when it comes to the people he cares about.

She closes her eyes. Just for a minute.

A shaky hand petting Meryl's hair makes her jolt up. The hand in her hair falls.

“Ow.” Nick's awake.

Nick's awake.

Meryl dives into his stomach, not giving a damn that she's sobbing all over him.

“Ow. Shortie, what's–”

“Don't do that to me again!” Meryl sobs.

The door creaks open, Vash stepping through. “I'm back,” he calls quietly. “The innkeeper was kind enough to give us something when I mentioned Nick's not...” He trails off, finally processing the scene before him. “Nicholas,” Vash breathes. The bag in his hand clatters to the floor and he joins Meryl in clinging to Nick. “Wolfwood – Nicholas, Nick.” He keeps repeating Nick's name, as though his brain has gotten stuck on Nick and Nick alone.

Nick makes a noise but doesn't shove either of them off of him. Not that he could at the moment, not with the grip Meryl's got in his shirt and the almost bruising clutch Vash is using.

Meryl sobs herself out, Vash close behind. Nick shakily holds on to both of them, bewildered.

“You can't do this to me – to us,” Meryl croaks when she thinks she can talk a little bit without bursting into another round of tears. “You could die and I can't lose you too.” Her voice cracks on her words and Meryl clings into Nick's chest again.

Vash pets Nick's cheek with his flesh and bone hand, thumb going through tear tracks and giving Nick a watery smile. “I can't lose you either,” he says. “Please. Don't make me lose you too.” He buries his face in Nick's throat.

Nick makes a noise at both of them. “'m sorry,” he rasps. “Didn't mean to scare you.” He doesn't say it won't happen again. Meryl knows it might.

He didn't promise her this after that time when they were without Vash, either. As long as people he cares about could be in trouble, Meryl knows Nick will do whatever he has to to keep them safe.

She just hopes it doesn't kill him in the process.

#trigun #mashwoodweek #mashwood #nicholas d. wolfwood #meryl stryfe #not sure what else i need to tag #babies are having A Time #like all the major warnings i was worried about are at the top of the post and there's more details in the replies #-shrug- #idk if im missing something tell me i guess #vash the stampede #forgot that tag apparently aaahhh #myde writes

[ivy-plays]

Ik I already did one request but I love ur posts sooooo can u pretty please do like blitzo and anyone u wanna add headcannons what there like during ✨spicy✨🥵🌶️time and if u don’t do nsfw that’s ok just some dating headcannons thank uuuuuuu

Here’s a meme for your time

Of course dear! It won't be too explicit bc we'll. I'm not used to writing anything explicit but this is right in my skill set lol. And thank you for the meme! I now want dinosaur ravioli 😔

Plot: request

Raiting: 16+/m

Reader: gn bc y'all know why lol

Style: head cannon/ bullet points

Warnings: like. 1 cuss word I think but the whole second half is spicy head cannons so. Read at your own descrrssion I'm not your mama and can't tell you what to do

I'm just doing Blitzø in this one bc I haven't written anything like this before so I want to make sure it's well received before I write for everyone else lol.

Blitzø:

Basic relationship stuff:

Very chaotic

And I mean VERY

You would naturally probably work for him either after or before y'all become a couple.thats up for you to decide.

Like Loona, he wouldn't yell at you or blame you when something goes wrong on a job .

And speaking of when y'all are on jobs he always has an eye on you and tries to stay close to you,not because he doesn't think you would be able to defend yourself. He definitely knows you can.

(which may or may not turn him on . Anyway)

He just is protective of the things and people he loves due to being afraid to lose anyone else he cares about.

You have to sit through his hours long rants about horses and his..."research" ....

You become another parent to Loona. (Who she likes slightly more and y'all laugh at how pissed off Blitzø gets about it lol)

It would be Blitzø and you who went to go steal Stolaz grimware (or however tf you spell it idk man)

Blitzø was very hesitant when it came to the whole sleeping with Stolaz thing ,but you told him you didn't care bc you knew that he didn't have feelings for the owl. (Yet)

Stolaz would probably rope you into the deal as well bc mmmm plot

Anyway.

Being in a relationship with Blitzø will be chaotic and challenging at times. (Like when he starts to doubt himself and whether or not he's good enough for you. Good enough to be happy.) But. You're always there for each other and it all works out in the end.

(I also think in the end you two would bring Stolaz into your relationship after the both of y'all realized you had feelings for the owl and talked it over with each other before bringing the idea to Stolaz)

Now. ✨Le spicy bits ✨

SIR KINK

I really do think Blitzø would have a massive authority kink and would want you to call him sir.

Mans likes to feel in control.

Now on the flip side of that. I do think Blitzø would be a switch but with a heavy preference on being on top.

Like. If you were to beg him enough he might let you top him or if he is tired enough.

But even then he still has some level of control over you and is telling you what to do .

That's just how it is. I don't make the rules lol

I also think (based off of lines said in sertin episodes as well as the pilot) that he would be into bondage and a masochism/saidism.

Definitely prefers to do the tying and not the one to be tied up. Again. He likes to have control.

And be prepared bc mans has a whole stash of shit like whips (of all different shoes and materials.) Gags, many different things to restrain you with. (Handcuffs,rope, sashes, his own hands)

He would also be a big damn tease. Like. I have a feeling Blitzø could get off just off the way you squirm and beg for him to stop messing around and fuck you already.

10/10 would blind fold you.

Throat fucking *cough cough clears throat* what was that??? I didn't hear anything.👀

#helluva boss #x reader #fanfics #blitzo x reader #blitzø #relationship #relationship headcanons #spicy headcanons

[juniemoe]

fandom: dragon age

rating: mature. minors dni.

pairing: carver hawke/oc

word count: 616

A/N: i haven't written anything in a hot minute so apologies in advance!! i'm currently deep in bg3 hell, but i still ended up writing about carver and august, somehow. august is my grey warden oc whom carver gets to know during da2 when he's recruited to the wardens in the deep roads. this fic is pretty tame, but minors interacting will still get blocked!

i've written more about them here: i, ii, iii

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

There's a swordsman's callus on August's thumb. It catches on the skin of Carver's shoulder blade, when his palm glides from his lower back to his freckled shoulder. Fingers dig into the muscle, nails leaving half moons to Carver's light brown skin.

Carver's breath catches and he pushes further in with his hips, making August sigh breathlessly under him. 

His eyes are closed when Carver searches them with his own. His mousy brown hair is tousled adorably from how he's been gripping and pulling it with his hands. His eyelashes are dripping from tears and there's a pink scar on his cheek from genlock's sharp blade and Carver presses a gentle kiss to it.

He's so beautiful, Carver thinks. The most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his life. And maybe he is only 22 years old and a little stupid, but he likes to think that he has seen a lot of stuff by now.

August is a man who is still a boy, just like Carver himself, but fierce and loyal to his friends that he would take a sword to the heart for them a thousand times over. He's brave to a fault.

He is also the world's hugest pillock. Carver's very favourite one.

"Are you close?" Carver pants, and August nods without words.

Carver picks up pace, and it's not long before both of them have found satisfaction and they are lying on their backs on their joined bedrolls. There's a sweet sort of kiss that gets pressed on Carver's bicep, and Carver's heart clenches like a fist under his rib cage.

"You know, I never thought I would end up in bed with an Orlesian guy," Carver says almost conversationally after the sweat has cooled on their bodies and their heart rates have returned to normal. And then he immediately winces afterwards. Maker, he sometimes wishes that the time Bethany almost accidentally killed him with a rusty pitchfork back in Lothering would have worked. 

"And I never thought I would end up in bed with someone who has a cock the size of a horse, but here we are," he teases with a significant look to Carver's lower body, and Carver flushes deep and red.

August is doing the thing he does when he wants to be particularly annoying; adopting a thick exaggerated Orlesian accent that the nobles in Val Royeux use. It drives Carver up the wall, and he knows it.

"Maker, please stop, you bloody pillock," he whines. He's pretty sure August can tell how pleased he is by the comment, though, which makes it all the more embarrassing. Andraste's tits, Carver sometimes feels like it's August's lifework to tease him so mercilessly.

August laughs. It's a weirdly shrill sound that could belong to a teenage girl, and it makes Carver hide his grin on August's neck. He inhales August’s scent; he always smells so incredibly nice. Different from girls.

"It's true!" August says, delighted by Carver’s reaction. "And you definitely always get the Grey Wardens' incredible stamina part right."

Carver moans in agony while August's bony shoulders shake.

"Alright alright!" Carver says, but only slightly grumpy. August continues to giggle for a little while longer, before he quiets down.

Carver kind of wants to say something. I really like you (embarrassing). I could go for another round (even more embarrassing). I don't ever want to lose you (the most embarrassing thing he's thinking about right now).

In the end he says nothing, and August returns his silence in kind, though he presses a sweet sort of kiss to Carver’s furrowed brow.

Then they just sleep, and in the morning they will pretend to be nothing more than rivals turned friends again.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #carver hawke #da fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #carver hawke x oc #oc: august #vilna writes #i really appreciate reblogs dudes