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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 5

summary ;; What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent? PART 4 | PART 6 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; jake is so depressing here. i also took liberty with his character and the reasonings for his decisions in atwow, sorry in case if thats not how you see him LMAO happy reading 💞 please excuse my mistakes if you see any! ‼ I DONT TAKE TAG REQUESTS ANYMORE ‼

“One chance, Jakesuli. You will only have one chance. Use it well. Our Great Mother favors you, that we know. But this favor hasn’t been granted to you. It has been granted to my granddaughter.”

“I won’t fail.” Not again.

“What does failing mean, I wonder. Would you fail if you take her soul back from her happiest? Or would you fail if you let her have the peace our Great Mother has laid her into?”

“I will get my daughter back. This isn’t her time. If Eywa has given me this chance, then she thinks the same as me.”

“You will take that honor from her, then?” Mo’at was being cryptic, but Jake saw through the exterior of the neutral Tsahik into an exhausted, mourning grandmother. “She was the daughter of Toruk Makto, and he was her last shadow.”

It came back to Jake in a gut-churning realization, it was his shadow that had fallen over you from the light of the torches on the walls as you’d given your last breath. It was his shadow. “No,” he refused, adamantly. “She will get to achieve greater honors of her own than that. I won’t be the one defining her ending.” The last bead of your songcord having his name, Toruk Makto’s name, was supremely wrong to him. He would not accept this fate for you.

“Very well, then.” Secretly, she was pleased with him. With his answer. “Get going. As I said. One chance.”

Jake would never be able to get used to the magnificence that was Vitraya Ramunong, or, the Tree of Souls. To him, Pandora itself was a marvel already too good to be true that he’d fallen in love with, and abandoned his own race for, there was no getting used to the beauty for a human like him who’d only found it once in neon lights, ever. He could reach the end of his natural lifespan in this body and still there would be much left to discover. That’s why Jake was more vulnerable to one of the beating hearts of Eywa in the shape of a giant, glowing willow tree.

No Na’vi was immune to the soul-purifying, all-consuming, yet being-dwarfing peace enveloping one’s very spirit, in a cradling hug as if they were nothing but a newborn in their mother’s arms. In here, only one fact mattered: they were childrens of Eywa, all of them dear, all of them seen, all of them safe and sound, including him, once alien to Eywa the way Earth was related to Pandora. Everything spoke to him here in a language he didn’t understand, but could respond to, again, in a language he didn’t understand, his soul doing the communicating.

Jake was also a child here, Eywa’s chosen child.

And he had come to her door for the most difficult request of his life, feeling like he was asking his mother for money right after he had crashed their car, unable to look her in the eye and expecting the biggest of scoldings for his shamelessness.

This was nothing like asking for her assistance against the sky people, back then, he had agency, power, the clans backing him up, Toruk. If Eywa didn’t hear him, he would fight until the last drop of blood in his body was spent anyway, he was ready.

Now, he had nothing.

Nothing to offer in return, not one concrete reason as to why he should have his daughter back other than being a desperate father with nowhere to return to other than the mercy of the Great Mother. He just wanted his child. Nothing mattered.

Not how and why Quaritch had spawned right under his nose with an avatar body, not how they could even slither in without detection, not the threat of what the sky people could bring upon their heads with that — nothing, not now. Nothing mattered until he saw this through.

Jake had found the will to quite literally tear himself from your side like nail from flesh only when you’d stabilized enough. Stabilized, as in, the faintest rise and fall of your ribcage Neteyam had to stare from where he was sitting like a sentinel for a full minute to spot, a tideless, still ocean only moving with whiffs of wind, his own breathing unnoticeable — to match yours, or to silence the sounds in his own body to hear better, Jake didn’t know.

No sky person was allowed to take over from Mo’at and Kiri. Norm had told Jake none of this made sense, if the bullet had nicked the bowels enough and the dirt leaked into the bloodstream, the possibility of sepsis was eventual, and if it didn’t, you had bled too much anyway, a blood transfusion was necessary, and the internal organs... — Christ, the amount of bad end scenarios Jake had been subjected to was as if they were telling him to open a grave for you anyway. Tsahik had scoffed into their faces. The way of healing was something none of them would see, she had scoffed. Now ally, or not. You can’t fill a cup that’s already full. Jake was in a hopeless need for water into wine kind of miracle, and honestly, he wasn’t complaining.

Leaving High Camp behind to set off on a journey calling for only him was one of the hardest things he’d done yet, the silhouette of you lying motionless, his family scattered around the tent, shadowed in their own mourning, folded into themselves was burned into his mind, glimpses of their pain visible from eclipses of light occasionally falling on their faces. A sight he never wanted to see again in his life if he could help it. It was a frosted, iron-thorned hand squishing his heart into ground meat.

Tuk, ever the stingy monopolizer, had brought her favorite toys to scatter around you because she thought they’d comfort you the way they comforted her, had tried snuggling with your unconscious body and was warned by Kiri only to hold your hand instead. She had taken to playing with your fingers, the depressive gloom of years beyond her age crooked on her. Jake couldn’t stand the sight of the little girl telling you bedtime stories he and Neytiri used to, for a moment only, he could pretend you were just going along with your sister’s whims and smiling with your eyes closed as you listened.

Kiri, buzzing around to change the bandage-leaves that soaked up some sort of sickly black colored puss every couple hours, had explained to him the salve they used on you was getting the infection and the splinters of the bullet they couldn’t get out of your body, which had turned the color of your blood into that — but the thing was, given the dwelling of the woodsprite in your mouth, they couldn’t feed you the porridge-like mix to speed up the process of blood production in the bone marrow, and she was exerting herself looking for some other way.

Before he’d left the tent for good, she had handed him the bullet— or, the biggest piece of it they’d taken out of your body, it was a mere pursed and shriveled, tiny metal. The exhausted girl had stammered when explaining that whatever they’d hit you with, had broken into shards inside you upon impact, creating severe lacerations and lethal hemorrhage that they’d worked tirelessly to pick out.

Jake had stared hollowly at it for the longest time. This small thing. It was such a small thing that took you from him.

The sentence that sent you away was also as small, and damning as this bullet. ‘Go.’

Kiri had seen it sink in his face, closing her five-fingered hand on his palm, on the bullet. “You should get going, dad,” she’d said. “We’re okay here.”

Jake had taken one last look. At Neytiri wiping your body to clean all the congealed blood. At Tuk holding your hand. At Kiri trying to fill in shoes bigger than her feet. At you lying down with trinkets surrounding you like funeral flowers. And forced his body to keep moving when all he wanted to do was stay.

He’d then heard Lo’ak complaining to his older brother outside the tent, “How can he be so cold?” The heaviness was getting to the boy, agitated and misapprehending. But he was always this way, if something was out of his control, the inability to act to change it manifested as frustration, blind anger. “Why is he so… unresponsive? Emotionless?”

Jake would have let it slide had it been about something else, but his children running their mouths not knowing he was a hair's breadth away from going clinically insane had gotten to him. He was burning alive.

“You think I don’t care, boy?” He emerged from the tent like some last boss, initially not caring he’d scared the brothers. “You think I don’t feel at all? My own child dying in the same arms I used to hold her as a baby — you think that doesn’t faze me?”

Neteyam, the mediator, or rather, the blame-taker, ran to his little brother’s rescue, the latter too flabbergasted to form any words yet. “Dad, he doesn’t mean—”

“I know exactly what he means.” When the anger subsided, Jake sighed with the weariness of an ancient man. The flames had died before they could climb, he was too exhausted for it. Honesty and trust, as Neytiri had said.

Having lost everything, having nothing to lose, and having a lot to lose were somehow simultaneously the same thing to Jake in the predicament he’d found himself in. “I know how you see me. You only know me as the person I want to show you.”

Lo’ak’s go-to answer was presented to Jake on a silver platter. “Sorry, sir.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to hear at all. Jake wasn’t trying to get Lo’ak to bow his head. “Don’t apologize—” He cut himself short, licking his chapped lips, and after rubbing his face, he’d put his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Lo’ak. Son. I feel this, alright? Of course I do. I’m your father.” He shook him gently, feeling the words weren’t reaching him, who was just staring at something on the ground off to the side. “There’s no greater pain a parent can go through in life than losing his child. You can’t understand what this means right now—what it’s doing to me. You will only know when you become a father yourself.” He gently tapped Lo’ak on the chin so he would raise his head and look at him in the eye already. And when he did, Jake said what he said slowly, hoarsely. “But know this. Know I will lose myself if I lose you, or any of your siblings.” He turned to Neteyam as well, who was watching in full alert mode. “I’m fighting not to lose my sanity as we speak.”

Lo’ak swallowed, unsure and weirded out to hear something like this for the first time in his life. Jake didn’t blame him. He was never emotionally upfront or honest before, not even used to it, more awkward with it than his boys were. But none of that mattered. Not anymore, after what happened to you because of his shortcomings. “You just look so composed—“

“I have to be.” Jake shook his head, eyelids hanging heavy, his whole head was heavy. “I just can’t crumble under it, do you understand? I have to be strong. I can’t lose myself in it. Your sister needs me. You need me. To be strong.” He took his hands off the boy’s shoulders, putting a palm on his cheek and patting a few, fatherly times before backing off altogether. “Never say that I don’t care. Never. I might not show it—and it’s a father’s duty not to show it, so my family will have a stable anchor. Get what I’m saying?”

Lo’ak looked reassured, lighter. So that’s what Neytiri had meant. “How… how can I help?”

His youngest son’s inclination to get to the root of the problem and pump out solutions was in consanguineous with his inability to stop and wait, uncomfortable in his skin when he couldn’t do anything to improve the situation and was confronted with the intimacy of having to feel, always wanting to act. Lo’ak was like Jake in that way. Awkward when it came to communication. Dishonest with themselves.

“Stay here.” Jake said, right from his heart. “Stay safe. I don’t wish for anything else in this world.”

Lo’ak’s eyes softened, and as the father, Jake felt the renewal of the bond between them, saw the understanding in his youngest son, saw something else than the guilt and regret over being caught after mischief, for once. “I’m sorry, dad.”

“Don’t apologize.” He shared a meaningful look with him, trying to convey, again, his apology wasn’t what he wanted. Yet, his sons were defaulted to saying sorry half the time they spoke to him nowadays. Jake was understanding the severity of it, too much too late. Lo’ak nodded, ears tipped down slightly.

Then he turned to the eldest. “Neteyam—”

But he opened his mouth before Jake could say anything else. Ready. Always on his feet. “Yes, I will—”

Jake clicked his tongue. “Rest.”

Neteyam was about to say yes to whatever he was told to do, as always, but stopped right in the middle of it, voice catching in his throat, eyes blinking in confusion. “What?”

“Rest.”

“But—”

“Rest, Neteyam, I won’t tell you again.”

God knows he needed it. Neteyam looked like he’d been having night terrors for days, accumulated anxiety making him jumpy. “Sorry, sir.”

“Stop—“ Jake caught himself before he could raise his voice. “Why are you apologizing?”

Neteyam didn’t talk for a while. But when he did, he was looking up at him underneath his lashes, unable to keep eye contact for more than two seconds. “It’s my fault.”

“Bro,” Lo’ak said, a pitiful objection.

Jake knew where this was going. “What is?”

“I should have been there.” He pressed his mouth into a thin line before furrowing his brow, closing his eyes. Jake knew what he was seeing, repeated over and over again in his mind. “I should have known right away when I couldn’t catch up to her. I could have prevented it. It’s my responsibility.” One tear slipped by as he hung his head. “My fault.”

There it is.

Jake had told him before. “You’re the older brother, you gotta act like it.” — even though you and him were more like affable twins than older brother and younger sister that he never had to explicitly be a guardian to you like he was to Lo’ak, he had to be thinking this was his biggest failure. Neteyam was just reflecting what he’d been taught, the standards his father was holding him up to. Of course the boy had been overthinking it to the point where he was the catalyst to the event by not predicting your fakeout.

“No,” Jake rasped, after a beat. “This is on me first, and the sky people who got to her second. And that’s the end of the story.”

Neteyam, up until this point, had to bear half the blame, if not the rest of it, for the consequences of his siblings’ actions. Upon receiving this kind of answer, he startled with an incredulous gasp and full stare at Jake. “But I—”

“It’s not about you, Neteyam,” Jake explained, although the words were harsh, he had done his best to soften the impact. “I did this. Blame me, okay?”

‘How could I?’ was written in neon letters over the boy’s head even if he didn’t say anything. Too good-natured. He idolized Jake a lot more than the man deserved. “Mother was… she was… She is grieving, she doesn’t mean it.”

“You gotta stop making excuses for people, boy. Especially when they’re in the right.” A smile pulled on his lips, but died as it was born. “I pushed and pushed until we reached the edge, thinking there was never an edge at all. I should have known better. I should have been better. This is between me and your sister, and that’s why it is me who has to go to the Tree of Souls.”

And he’d left, but not before pulling his boys into his chest, cradling the back of their heads against himself, the smell of home repulsing instead of comforting. Prickles on his skin was the comfort he got from being able to hug his children when you were absent. It didn’t feel right.

He missed you dearly, an aching, gaping hole in his very being that only grew larger as he saw what you left behind half-completed or messy like you’d stood up and gone off for a minute to come back to it later —

The unmade pallet from the night of your Iknimaya argument that Jake had shed tears on when he’d seen the state of it, having the signs of someone getting up from it like you would be returning to go back to sleep any second.

The unfinished bark plate you had set aside to eat later and fought Lo’ak not to touch it. a squabble Jake had to break before you started wasting food by throwing it at each other.

The stack of fruits you’d gathered that you never shared except for Neytiri sometimes.

The half-carved cup you were working on because the regular cups weren’t big enough for your water needs and you didn’t like to refill it about three times until you were satisfied.

The incomplete anklet you were making out of rainbow beads for Tuk that was confidential to everyone but Jake, who knew from observing you, of course — you were missing a couple colors that you just couldn’t seem to find, nagging his head off to just let you roam around farther and there was no danger as the sky people couldn’t get in the vortex.

The little animal doodles you scratched at your side of the tent when you couldn’t sleep at nights, waking Jake up in the process every single time to listen until your breathing evened out as sleep retook you in its arms again, because he was bodily programmed to startle awake at one single rustle in his living quarters from his Marine days and fell into old habits after the return of the sky people, he knew you had developed insomnia from being uncomfortable at High Camp, longing for your hammock cocooned in the safety and comfort of the forest.

And the dumb romance novels you had taken from the humans that you, Kiri and Tuk giggled about at girl’s nights reading out loud, Spider invited as an honorary guest at times, just so you could tease Kiri about him and annoy your brothers that they weren’t allowed in, but the human boy was.

All of them had no owner now. Neither of your family members could look at them, your ghost would appear in precious memories beside your belongings if they looked too much. He didn't need to concentrate for a phantom of you to appear, you were everywhere he looked, and even now, as the gently pulsating lavender humming, a song from Eywa herself, right underneath the veinlike, labyrinthine roots was the cool summer rain on Jake’s sizzling skin, all he could see was your first communion with Eywa in his arms while Neytiri formed the tsaheylu, the clan spread all around them in celebration.

“You’ve called, and I’ve answered,” he greeted in positivity. “I think this is the most direct you’ve been with me in a long while.”

He didn’t know if it was Eywa or you he was saying this to. He genuinely didn’t know.

Kneeling, and putting his arms on the mossy, thick root, he looked up to see the woodsprites swaying and floating in the air. He reached for his braid, letting the squirming nerve-endings coil around the white-cored lavender thread closest to him, taking in the presence of Eywa, all around yet nowhere at all, but listening. No sign of you. Was he supposed to talk like this? Just like this? Was he not allowed to see you?

Jake had to admit he had been harboring the tiniest expectation of meeting you somehow, or hearing your voice through the connection like he did with a Tree of Voices when Mo’at had cryptically informed him of his chance. But this was it?

If he failed, this would be it.

“I guess this isn’t all that different,” he said out loud, instead of thinking inwards where the confusion flew. “It’s been like this for a while now, you and I. You talk, I don’t hear you. I talk, you don’t hear me. We throw the same ball at each other only for it to bounce back. Monologuing to a tree is the same thing, except it doesn’t talk back like you do.”

He looked up and around, there was nothing else to do. The air was the same as it always was in here. Always accommodating to what each Na’vi found comforting. “The last time I came here like this was to ask for Eywa’s help in the last stand against sky people. I told her I would fight either way, I knew that’s why she’d chosen me. All my life, all I’ve done was fight. Even when I wasn’t able to, I was fighting lesser battles with the excuse of not having anything to fight for. It’s all I’ve known. All I’ve ever done. It’s what I was best at.” His brow twitched, and Jake tried to keep his composure, not because he didn’t want anybody to see, no, it was to keep his shit together so he didn’t fuck this up. He had to be honest. His pride was the last thing he needed in his way at the moment.

“You were born to a different man. To a changed man. To a father who could let go because he thought his family was safe. You got to meet the man I used to be when my reason for fighting came back from my star. I know you don’t like that person — you can’t — couldn’t get used to him. I know.”

From the discomfort, his fingers dug into the moss first, and found the bark of the root, his fist curling on it next. “But I had to keep fighting.” He softly brought his fist back on the root. “The strong prey on the weak, that’s just how things are. That’s how I had it on my star. And my kids — you, you are weak, and it’s not an insult — it’s not me criticizing, Jesus, you are just children, and there’s a war on your damn heads. That’s what I mean. That’s what I’ve always meant. It’s natural that you are weak, Eywa was kind enough to let you be soft. Not Earth, though, never Earth.”

Jake had to clench his teeth and bite the anger into the inside of his mouth to not be boiled alive — not to let it reach to your side. He let out a soundless snarl. “You would never be ready for the cruelty of Earth, I would never wish that upon any of you. But it was brought to you. Right at your doorstep. I couldn’t protect you from it by hugs and kisses. You wouldn’t be safe from a gun extended to you by extending a branch in return. No.”

He reached and caressed the glowing thread, brows furrowed. “I did what I thought was right to prepare you. Every single one of you. I was making you tough. I had to. To protect you. And of course there would be clashing along the way, it’s what happens between parent and child. We fight. We fight like cats and dogs for dominance. You try me to show strength. I stand my ground to let you know you gotta do better.”

He had fired those sentences with incoherent speed, and when he got to the end of it, Jake got choked up. Stopped for a moment, took a breath. Blinking several times, his tone became vulnerable, he didn’t have anyone in front of him, but he tore away his gaze anyway. “Somewhere along the way, things just… Without me noticing, everything…” He sighed through his nose, his voice nothing but a whisper. “I fought more battles than I fought for my family. I thought I was doing my job as a father when I didn’t even know shit about being a father.”

A couple seconds floated by, and his gaze was stolen by a lone woodsprite descending down until it staggered on the fist he had against the root. The shine of it reflected from the mistiness of his eyes. His lower lip slightly trembled at the thought of it being you. This little woodsprite. You?

“The thing is, I’m lost, sweetheart,” he admitted quietly, small, shaky, not taking his eyes off the woodsprite. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I sit here, I look back, and think why I keep fighting. We could have migrated. Looked for a new Hometree. Another forest. Left the humans alone. Or made peace. A treaty. Something. None of your lives had to be sullied by war. Yet I chose this. I chose to fight, as I ‘ve always done, because now I had something to fight for. And the fighting wasn’t limited to them, I fought Neteyam, I fought Lo’ak, I fought you, my own kids, and I didn’t even know.”

He reached for it with his other hand, tentatively, scared that it would fly away with the slightest contact. But he was able to touch the top of the woodsprite ever so slightly, the little zap making all the hair on his body stand up. Jake swallowed thickly, his whole head on fire. “I don’t know what to do. I just miss you. I miss you so much, sweet girl. I wish you would scream at me. Say you hate me for all I care. Anything. Hate me until the day you die, but do it with all of your family surrounding you in old age, in peace. I would be content knowing you are under the same sky as me. But I’m forgetting your voice already, and I—” He held back a violent sob, hissed to not let it out, and groaned, getting angry at himself for the emotions. He shut his eyes tightly, willing away the tears. “I wish I could say these to your face. I wish I could see you one last time, smiling at me.”

Having everything to lose. Having lost everything. Having nothing to lose. Three different meanings had coiled around each other like snakes to become one singular outcome in linear relation of cause-and-effect through you. It wasn’t a cycle.

Having something to fight for. Having nothing left to fight for. Having nothing to fight for. You were everything. Everything. What could Jake do? How was he supposed to fight when he had no concrete opponent?

“I see you.”

The voice — your voice, albeit much, much younger, almost made him jump. When his eyes shot open, Jake was in a different location. He knew this place. The creek away from the village he and his family often frequented.

The twilight penumbra of the eclipse dimmed the shadows embracing the forest, but the ethereally glowing lights of all colors illuminated and got reflected from the water as if it was a mirror. Above and all around him were lazily dancing fireflies — or, rather, bioluminescent bugs he didn’t know the names of, tiny stars floating in the air like glitter. It was magical.

Jake realized with aching melancholy that this was the first time he’d taken you out on an eclipse to show you the beauty of the forest on a special father-daughter date. The exact memory.

The breath that left him was shaky as he felt the presence sitting right beside him, in the corner of his vision, he saw the ripples on the shining water made by swinging legs.

Jake froze for a second. Unmoving. Not looking at all — because if this was a dream, or a hallucination, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. His breathing got louder, more labored, the log underneath his hands was so realistically textured and damp. If he looked. If he looked, you would disappear. That’s how he felt.

He was supposed to talk. But now, his ribcage was holding the words hostage, burning with the strain of the pile-up.

“But I’m sad you don’t see me,” you said, and he was shaken by hearing your voice yet again, remembering the moment he found himself here, how he’d heard — ‘I see you’. “You don’t even want to look at me.”

So much hurt and vulnerability in that sentence that it left him breathless.

It all happened in a matter of seconds. Him launched into his own turmoil racking his brain about how Quaritch was back as an avatar, ignoring to look at you to protect his composure and just trying to think, think — think, of a plan, of a how, of what to do. You calling after him once Neytiri, you and he arrived at High Camp after dodging Quaritch’s men. Him purposefully walking away because he needed to cool off and not to explode on you right there and there.

That whole time, Jake hadn’t looked at you. If he did, he would have seen you needed help.

He shattered, all of his walls crumbling down, stripped down to bare despair.

“Oh sweetheart.” Before he knew it, he had wrapped his arms around you in a crushing hug, basically snatching you off from where you were sitting and on his lap, and your warmth, your pulse, your tangible existence wrenched a shiver out of him — and he buried his face to the little crook of your neck, taking your scent in, hiding his trembling face and the quiver of his arms by holding you tight. You were here. As your younger self, no older than eight, but he had you. Not bloody and battered in his arms, but alive, so alive. “Oh sweet girl, my sweet girl… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He kissed the side of your head, felt the real tickle of your hair against his face, blessed with the soothe of his child’s smell. “I see you. Of course I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

The snowflake-frail snivel followed by your sobbing sniffle broke his heart into pieces. “You’re a liar.” He shook his head, hugging you tighter. “You’re mean to me. You’re so mean to me.”

“I’m sorry.” That was all he could say. All he could do with his thrashing soul smoldering at the wetness of your tears on his shoulder. “I am mean. I’m sorry… You’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It hurt so much.” You wailed. “It hurt a lot.”

Jake began to caress your head with an awkward, clumsy, panicked hand, disturbed as to if you meant the moment of your death — at him pressing on the wound with all he had to stop the bleeding, or he and your strained relationship in general. “I know, sweetheart,” he said anyway, a stone clogging his throat. He didn’t try to explain, or tell you why, didn’t argue that it wasn’t what he meant to do. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had you in his arms. “I know. I know.”

You wouldn’t get to be younger than this. And maybe, he would never get to see you be older, either. The thought crumpled his face like some piece of paper. Jake just wanted to hold you. And when you wrapped your little arms around him too, freely crying in his arms, a couple tears escaped his eyes as well, he didn’t know what kind of face he was making, perhaps it was better that you didn’t see him crumble.

In the middle of it somewhere, he realized that you were younger because it was your inner child that needed this, she was more honest — more open with Jake. It caused him to sway with you back and forth, ribcage hurting with each breath. And you let it all out, clinging to him.

“I love you, always,” he whispered, watching the bioluminescent bugs, when you were calmer and had fallen silent on his chest, not wanting to let him go and just listening to his heartbeat. “Even if I don’t show it — especially when I don’t show it. You are loved, my sweet girl, more than you know. More than you’ll ever know. More than I can show.” He looked down at the top of your head, agonized. “But I want to try. I want to show you more, moving forward.”

Knowing what he was insinuating, “But it’s nice here,” you said, voice thick and coarse from crying. You still didn’t pull back to look at him. Both of you, from the start of this, never looked at one another. Not once. Embarrassed and shameful to be honest, Jake thought. That pride you two shared. “You’re not mean to me here.”

But he needed to see you. You needed to be seen. So, as gently as he could, he unwrapped your arms around him, and took your baby cheeks in his hands, and looked you in the eyes. Another tear slipped from him. “You been listenin’ to me, right sweetheart? From the start?” You nodded adorably. You wouldn’t have said oel ngati kameie and accepted to let him see you if you hadn’t felt his true intentions and heart through him pouring it all out at the Tree of Souls. “I’m hiding a lot of things. But I want to be open with you. You wanna know the secret why I’m… mean?” You nodded again, more reluctant this time. “It’s because I’m scared.”

You gasped, genuinely lost and shocked, and he tried not to smile at the purity, the innocence. “You? You’re scared?”

“All the damn time,” he whispered, landing a kiss on your temple, his opposite thumb tracing a loving line on your other temple. “Every day. Every night.”

“But you’re Toruk Makto. You’re never scared.”

“I’m also a dad,” he said sorrowfully, as if he was giving out a secret. “And it’s precisely why I’m scared. I’m scared for you. For your siblings. Of losing you. It turns into anger. Anger turns into irreparable damage. Things I can’t take back.”

In the blink of an eye, you were back to your real age. For some reason he couldn’t quite grasp, you had shed the exterior of your childhood. But he didn’t mind, didn’t let you off his lap.

“Don’t be scared, I’m here,” you said, putting your own small palm on his cheek, upset by the fact that he was feeling like that in the first place rather than whatever explanation he had. Your response was also childish, but he leaned into your touch anyway, comforted regardless, even if you were already gone — for this moment, he could ignore that no, you weren’t here at all. “If you told us, we would have been more careful not to make you sad.”

Ah, he was being lectured on communication by his kid. It had a certain flavor of humbleness to it. Jake adored it nonetheless. “I know,” he said, “I’m sorry. I won’t be mean anymore.”

“That’s a lie.”

Jake couldn’t stop the laugh, though it was tottering. “Yeah, it is. But I promise you that I’ll never hurt you again.”

“That’s a lie too. Wasn’t it you who said not to make promises you can’t keep?”

“Alright, smartypants, let me rephrase it then,” the little glimpses of your brash self made him happy. “I will never intentionally hurt you, and if I end up doing so, unknowingly, I will always make it up to you. No exceptions.”

You were acting uninterested, but stole intrigued glances at him. “How are you gonna make it up to me?”

“I’ll let you choose, how does that sound?” Jake tapped your nose. “In return, if I don’t know and haven’t taken the first step, you’ll have to tell me outright what I did.”

You deadpanned. “But I always do.”

“No, you don’t.” He raised one of his eyebrows. “You become passive-aggressive when you’re annoyed and pick fights with me.”

“That’s not—”

“Sweetheart.”

“Okay, fine.” You huffed. The normalcy had made him forget just what he was doing here. “But you get angry.”

“What I get angry at is—” He cut himself off with a tongue click. “Not important. I do get angry. But at sincere honesty, us just talking it out, I could never get angry at that. Is the difference clear?”

“I think it is.” You were apprehensive about something, your fingers on his neck flexing as if you wanted to pull them back and break the hug. “But you have to promise.”

“I promise.” And then, Jake remembered, a new fire hardening his face, not in anger, but determination. “And speaking of which. I would never. Ever. Not in a million years would get angry or blame you for getting hurt to that degree — for others, humans, avatars, whoever and whatever the hell they are, hurting you, I could never get mad at you for it. Do you understand me? Your safety is the most important to me. I could never hate you for it.” His voice dropped down to a softer, gentler tone just above a whisper. “There is nothing in this world that’ll make me hate you. Nothing. I will love you through the most heinous crimes and in inexcusable deeds, you will find forgiveness in me even if there’s nobody left, that’s a father’s heart. Forever and always, I am with you.” He touched his forehead, and then yours. “I see you.”

You avoided eye contact.

Ah, yes, the famous emotional awkwardness. He was sort of aware his feelings had reached you, you just didn’t know what to say. Jake hadn’t been like this with you for the longest time. So, he decided to make you more comfortable. “Yes I will get mad at you for breaking curfew, and yes, we might stop talking for a while and beef about the dumbest things if the fight is too intense — but always, always come to me when something is wrong. I will drop everything without hesitation.” He leaned in a bit to catch your wayward stare. “Got it?”

You murmured. “Okay.”

“Are we clear?”

You murmured once more. “Yeah.”

“Repeat it, then.”

There was something between cringing and unwillingness on your face, but at his pointed look, you sighed, giving in. “Always come to you if something’s wrong even if we’re fighting.”

“That’s right,” he affirmed, encouraging to let you know this wasn’t embarrassing. “What else?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Dad will always love you.” He nudged you, noting the flick of your ears in happiness when he’d said it. “Come on, say it.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but your voice was light. “Dad will always love me…”

“Dad will never hate you.”

Sheepishness took over, making Jake smile. “Dad will never hate me.”

“And. Come talk to me about it if I’ve ever hurt you without noticing so I can make it up to you.”

“Always go to you if I’m hurt and you’re unaware of it.”

“That’s right,” in this form as well, he gave your temple another kiss, heart soaring at your beautiful smile he had been dying to see. “Good girl.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power.”

“Nothing my mighty hunter can’t handle.”

The smile on your face died down. It came to Jake right away what had gone wrong. “Sweetheart—” “I didn’t mean that. You know—” But you didn’t know. Jake had to stop trying to make it easier on himself. “I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you. About everything. About the ikran, I’m so goddamn proud. I said it, and I can’t take that back, I was angry and I was trying reverse psychology — you know what, it doesn’t matter. But you are my mighty hunter. Will always be.”

You got confident a bit, but were still testing the waters. “Well I proved I am.”

“Yes, you did,” he rejoiced, no rejection or doubt whatsoever. “Message received, Lima Charlie.”

You giggled freely, joyfully at the recognition, and Jake ached again remembering how much he’d missed that carefree, precious thing, he swore pixie dust was in it. You slipped from his lap to sit crossed-legged beside him, and he instantly missed being able to hold you close. “Wish you were there to see me.”

“Me too, sweet girl.” Your Iknimaya was a disaster. A long-passed, sacred tradition broken wasn’t as important to him as it was to Neytiri — but he knew she longed to see you complete it, by your side, as eagerly as he did. And you had been alone in your pride, when he knew from a very young age, you had been the most excited for it. Everything had been ruined and there was nothing he could do to undo it. “Will you tell me about it?”

The phantom of pensiveness on his face hadn’t quite registered with you yet, getting excited to tell him all about it like nothing had happened the moment you knew Jake wanted to know. As if you weren’t dead. As if nothing was wrong. “Well first of all, I broke Neteyam’s record.”

A mournful smile tugged on his lips. “Did you now?”

“Hell yeah!” You started gesturing with your arms. “It took, like, two minutes? One minute? Too easy.”

“You know easy means the ikran didn’t give you much of a fight, right?”

“Or, or.” One finger was raised up at him to raise another option. “I was too skilled.”

“The ikran might have been meh about you.” Jake teased. “You sure it chose you? Or did you just chase it down and it was stuck with you?”

“That’s so wrong!” He threw his head back to laugh at your outburst. “He was watching me get there the whole time! Like, from the start. His eye was on me, I just know it. You’re just jealous you didn’t get Bob like I got Jack. I was badass.”

That made him pause. “Jack?”

“Yeah, his name’s Jack.”

He couldn’t imagine Neytiri’s reaction to the blandest name imaginable, oh god. “Why?”

“Named him after you.” You tipped your head at him, raising your brows. “It’s healing, you know. He listens to me without questioning. He’s also very sweet. Unlike a certain someone.”

“Oh you little shit—”

“I didn’t say anything.” Raising your hands in defense first, you crossed your arms on your chest next. “Certain someone can mean anyone. It can mean Lo’jack—”

“Lo’jack, really? Really?” Jake half-snorted, half-scoffed. “This a new one after Lovak?”

“Jackiri—”

“Jackiri is pretty sweet, c’mon now,” he gave a blank stare. “Hope you’re not gonna say Jackeyam.”

“Jacktirey?” You asked, undecided. “She’s an anklebiter.”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Could be Jack the Ripper, Bojack Horseman, Jack-in-a-box. Jack-o-lantern.”

“All people, of course.”

“Yeah, all people.” You snapped your fingers in mock-remembrance. “Hit the road Jack.”

“Oh wow, even him?” Jake lowered his voice, leaning towards you, mocking astonishment. “Legendary figure, that guy.”

“Jack of All Trades.”

“Well, that ikran really seems to be one to me.”

“I know, right?” You stopped, and he saw that thought process, and before he could open his mouth, you blurted it out. “Unlike a certain someone I know.”

“You punk.” Jake pushed you lightly by your shoulder. “You’re pushin’ it.”

You smiled with all your teeth at him, with hands on your calves, leaning down to act cute, and Jake could pretend this was normal. That he’d fixed everything. And all was right in the world now that you were laughing with him — he’d made you smile. .

But suddenly you looked scared, looking at something over his shoulder, shrunken pupils focusing on him and whatever it was rapidly. It kicked him awake from his delusion. He tensed, tail jumping upwards, straight as a rod. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Your breath hitched, and the next thing he knew, you had pushed him away, and he was falling towards the water. The last thing he saw was only a blur of you — the bioluminescent bugs became shooting stars with a thread of glow left behind them, the whole world tilted, but he didn’t hit the water, instead, he rolled down the small slope he had to climb to reach the tree.

Disoriented, he saw the root was almost split in half — bullet marks, a cloud of splinters and debris was flying around where he used to be sitting.

A lone avatar just ahead. Having made it all the way to the Tree of Souls. He didn’t know where this man had come from.

Heart picking up and roaring in his ears, all Jake could think about was, One chance.

He hadn’t even spoken to you properly yet, hadn’t said all the things he wanted to, hadn't even gotten your word, and this man — this son of a bitch — humans had taken you once again.

Once again.

You will only have one chance.

“Lucky asshole,” the man looked at him behind the barrel of the long assault rifle. “Gonna make you pay for what you pulled yesterday.”

Your ethereal smile going up in smokes at the back of his head, Jake saw red.

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily@n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

@thotd-f1 @httpjiikook @nipoxe @fussel9913 @gloryekaterina @nxptury @thesheelfsworld @heyyitsmaiaa @anyasullyyy @rey26 @in-luvais @em-100 @n7cje @kpopslur @holysaladapricothero @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @maviee @grxcisxhy-wp @me-marilm @n39ro-chann

#dad!jake x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x daughter!reader #dad!jake sully x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #mom!neytiri x reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neytiri x daughter!reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #kiri x sister!reader

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andy-15-07 · 1 month

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Are your requests open??

I would love to see you where the reader/OFC is a concubine of Paul Atreides. She doesn’t get much attention from him but when she goes in to labor there is a complication and she becomes scared. Paul as the Emperor shows up to help her through the labor and starts developing a positive relationship with her and his child postpartum.

Thank you!! Please keep writing things you have passion for!! ❤️

Bonds Beyond Blood

masterlist ! pairing: Paul Atreides x reader

Dune Masterlist

Y/n lay on the ornate bed, her hand clutching the bedsheets tightly as pain wracked through her body. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her breathing shallow and labored. The midwives moved around her with practiced efficiency, but their words seemed distant, muffled by the intensity of her fear.

Paul Atreides, the Emperor, stood by the doorway, his expression a mask of concern. He had never been one to show much interest in Y/n, his concubine, beyond the duties of his station. But now, as he watched her struggle, something stirred within him.

"Is she going to be alright?" Paul asked the head midwife, his voice betraying a hint of anxiety.

The midwife glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to Y/n. "We are doing everything we can, Your Majesty. But there are complications. The baby's position is not ideal, and Y/n is exhausted."

Paul nodded, his jaw clenched. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that washed over him. This was one situation he couldn't control with his political power or military might.

Y/n's cries filled the room, echoing off the walls of the chamber. Paul felt a pang of guilt deep within him. He had neglected her, taken her presence for granted. But now, seeing her in such agony, he couldn't ignore the bond they shared, however distant it had been.

Without a word, Paul crossed the room and took Y/n's hand in his own. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fear and pain.

"Paul..." she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

"I'm here, Y/n," Paul said softly, his tone soothing. "I won't leave your side."

Y/n squeezed his hand tightly, drawing strength from his presence. Despite their past indifference, she found solace in his touch, in the warmth of his hand against hers.

Minutes stretched into hours as Y/n endured the agonizing pain of labor. Paul remained by her side, offering words of encouragement and support. With each contraction, he whispered words of reassurance, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of her fear.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears of relief streamed down Y/n's cheeks as she held her newborn child in her arms.

Paul watched, his heart swelling with emotion, as Y/n cradled their child against her chest. In that moment, he felt a connection unlike any he had ever known before. It wasn't just the bond of blood that tied him to this child, but something deeper, something more profound.

"I never knew..." Paul began, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears. "Neither did I," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the soft cries of their child.

In the days that followed, Paul remained by Y/n's side, helping her adjust to motherhood and caring for their newborn child. With each passing day, their bond grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity and nurtured by the love they shared for their child.

As they sat together in the quiet moments of the night, watching over their sleeping infant, Paul found himself opening up to Y/n in a way he never thought possible. He shared his fears, his hopes, his dreams for the future, laying bare his soul before her.

And in turn, Y/n shared her own hopes and dreams, her fears and insecurities, trusting Paul with her most intimate thoughts and feelings.

In the weeks and months that followed, Paul and Y/n's relationship blossomed into something beautiful and profound. They may have started as mere strangers, bound together by duty and circumstance, but now they were so much more than that.

They were partners, allies, confidants. And as they watched their child grow and thrive, they knew that no matter what the future held, they would face it together, united in love and devotion.

For in the end, it wasn't power or prestige that defined them, but the simple yet profound bond of family. And in that bond, they found the true meaning of happiness and fulfillment.

#paul atreides imagines #paul atreides x reader #paul atreides x female reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides #paul atreides imagine #dune x you #dune x reader #dune imagines #dune imagine #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet imagines #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #timothee chalamet x reader

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toji-girl · 2 months

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i actually think i have a problem - i have a serious lactation kink like idk why 😭 i was wondering if you could possibly write a toji x reader w lactation kink and literally anything else you’d like to add 🥹

- 🩰

toji and lactation kink go hand in hand so ofc! I gotcha also the idea of letting him do that is so sensual and intimate and just skhnsjkhsr!! I want him so bad.

tags: 18+ only content - mdni + fem reader + lactation kink + you're mamaguro + Megumi is a newborn + this has no smut in it actually lmao but I enjoyed writing this either way - if you want smut just lmk for sure 😏😏

Any time you heard any baby, and not just your son wail at the top of their new lungs your shirt would become a soaking mess, the high-pitched cries were enough to have you flustered and embarrassed.

It couldn't be helped though.

Breastfeeding a very hungry baby is a full-time job.

Also, having a husband who was curious about it as well seemed to be a part-time job, he'd watch Megumi suckle from your breast until he fell asleep completely milk-drunk. "Is it sweet?" He questioned from the other side of the room wanting to know what it tasted like.

At first, it was just a curiosity thing then it slowly turned into a burning need that he couldn't get out of his head, and a few times he's helped massage your breast to help with a clogged duct.

"Ya know I love how much bigger these have gotten," Toji murmured one evening when the both of you had some downtime while Megumi slept in his room down the hallway, large palms cupping your breasts feeling the milk start to bead on your nipples, and through the shirt soaking the fabric.

You narrowed your eyes at him and rolled them playfully. "I thought you liked them before?" You asked feeling a little self-conscious after giving birth which was something your husband knew about.

"I love every inch of you doll, you just gave birth to our son, you're badass." He murmured moving in closer to you, his words were an attempt to soothe any worries you have and it helped a little.

He nudged at your side almost like a dog before slipping his hands up your shirt. "Megumi won't be awake for a while, if you keep doing that I'm going to have to pump." You whined softly when he used the advantage of how huge his shirt was on you to poke his head underneath it and kiss your stomach slowly.

"Let me help then," Toji murmured causing you to pull the neck away to look at him still hidden under the shirt, his hot breath fanned over your breast that he inched closer to, the milk dripping down your sides making you wet and sticky. He watched as you nodded slowly.

You knew it would help so you let him latch onto your nipple drawing the bud into his mouth gently making you hiss with relief when he began to suck drawing the milk out. "Gentle! They feel like chew toys for our son." You hummed and rubbed his back groaning softly.

It didn't take him long for him to switch to your other breast, his bulge becoming prominent as he slid one arm under your back to tug you closer to him. "Feel any better?" Toji asked when he pulled away licking his lips and pulling his head out from under your shirt.

"A lot....thank you." You looked at him a little shy making him chuckle and wipe his mouth before he kissed you and let you curl into his side ready to fall into a deep sleep after being awake for so long.

#💌incoming #tw: lactation kink #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #toji x you #I wanted something kinda soft and domestic #🩰anon

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fluloa · 1 year

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BABY DADDY JAKE AND LIKE THEY HAVENT EVEN OFFICIALLY MATED FOR LIFE YET BUT HAVE A WHOLE ASS NEWBORN

why is this idea so cute to me??? i have no idea why but slay

You and Jake weren’t really a couple at the start. Sure, you had your moments. Like sometimes, he’d bring you a cute little bundle of flowers, or a new anklet and shit like that. But it was never serious, never really a relationship.

The first time he met you was during a hunting festival, with crystal beads in your hair and a mischievous glimmer in your eyes that he couldn’t help but be drawn to. He had a bit too much to drink, and it seemed as if you did too.

He walked up to you, trying to hide the intense nerve that shock his system because you were really fucking pretty. You were dancing carelessly, arms flowing out and he taps one of them, immediately cringing at the unplanned move.

You turn, the beads in your hair rattling against the base of your neck as you look up at him with curiosity.

“Hey,” he mumbles, crackling a tiny smirk that covers the immense panic he feels.

You blink, smiling a little as you look him up and down. “Hello.”

“You, uh,” Jake clears his throat. “You’re really pretty, and uh… would you wanna dance?”

God, he seems like a complete douchebag. But you like it, or seem to at least by the way your smile widens. You simply nod, turning yourself completely to him and placing the palms of your hands on his shoulders, and he watches you do it with wide eyes. He notices the way your head gently tilts, before you grab one of his hands, directing it to your hip. “You place here.”

He nods, flicking his gaze quickly to the other dancing pairs to see what they’re doing as he attempts to copy. You find it cute.

“I feel how tense your fingers are.” You comment, and his gaze snaps right back to you. His ears twitch down, airplane mode for a millisecond before they’re back up laying against his black hair.

“You can?”

“Mm,” you hum. “Relax.”

He tries to do what you say, breathing in through his chest and relaxing his hand sat against your hip but it’s hard, because he can’t help but feel the way the perky bone of your hip sticks out to his fingers and how smooth your skin is.

“Relax,” you repeat, letting a breathy giggle fall from your lips at his obvious lack of ability to do such a simple action. When his fingers finally slow and rest lazily on your skin, you smile. “For Toruk Makto, you are quite humble.”

You know completely what to do through the music, starting your hands at the base of his stomach before dragging them up to his neck and making your palms meet. “Take your hand off my hip,” you mumble. You spread your hands out across his chest, following out the length of his arms before finally meeting his hands, threading your fingers through his fingers and bringing them up and above both your heads.

You’re looking at your conjoined hands, but he’s looking at you. When you bring them down, you catch his gaze, and you’re taken slightly aback by the intensity caught in it. You slow your hands, staring at him as your mouth gently agapes.

Sprawled out on the green grass, Jake leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck as he enters you with drunken feverishly motions, groans slipping from his throat. Your legs curl around his torso, encouraging him to strive deeper into your cunt and kiss deeper at your skin. Your hands sprawl out across the map of his toned back, blunt nails catching onto his blue skin and creating tiny dinted scratches.

“Oh, my girl,” he breathes out. “Nice and warm. So— holy, so nice and warm.”

You mewl, digging your heels into the lower pinch of his back, “Jake, oh, Jake.” Your voice cracks into a edgy whine when he strengthens the pace of his cock, driving in and out of you fluently.

Breathing ragged and uneasy as you slump together, tangling in each other as you bask in the after moments of sex. Your tails curl together, wrap around each other and you sigh. Jake presses a gentle kiss at your forehead, rubbing his thumb on the fat of your thigh.

It was like that for a long time. Constant banter and flirting until you both gave in and ravaged each other, banging it out like there was no tomorrow. But you weren’t a couple, hadn’t taken it to the next step to connect your tsaheylos because why rush when you both can just be comfortable in an fun, open sex friends-with-benefits sort of deal? You were both fine with it, and there wasn’t anything that could change that.

But then came the random little pains and spikes in your belly, the nausea that sometimes grew when you ate, the increasing aching tender of your breasts.

You chew on your lip hard, praying to Eywa herself that it isn’t what you think it was.

The Tsahik tells you otherwise, and within seconds of her fingers grazing the skin over your belly, she nods. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” you rush.

“Silence, child. If you let me speak, I shall tell you.” Mo’at snaps. You nod violently, lips sealed close as you wait anxiously for her next sentence. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift,” she flats her palm on your stomach, unable to hide the gentle smile that stretches on her wrinkled face. “You are with child.”

You gulp, a mix of emotions running through you all at once. You slide your hand next to hers, feathering at your belly and feeling the soft skin there that’ll probably be decorated with stretch marks.

It’s nerv-wracking when you see Jake next, and he’s already got that giddy grin on his face as he strides to you. “Hey,” he murmurs, scooping an arm around your waist and pulling you into the warmth of his torso. He lands a sly kiss to your jawline, and you’ve got the feeling he wants to get straight into it today.

“Jake,” you say.

“Hm?” he mutters, gliding the hot of his tongue on the area just below your jawline. His fingers snake to your loincloth, toying with the lace that holds it together.

“Jake,” you repeat, voice sterner this time and that’s when he knows to back off, brow twitching up.

“What?”

“I have to tell you something,” you utter. He blinks blindly at you. “It’s serious.”

“Okay,” he returns, not without confusion wrapped in his tone. You breathe in, attempting to calm your nerves before you’re blurting it out all in one go.

“I’m pregnant, Jake. I have your baby,” you blurt. He stares at you, face unreadable and you take it as a sign to keep on rambling, but then he places a palm on your belly with his eyes set on the movement.

He lets a breathy chuckle leave his mouth, lets a grin stretch out onto his wide lips. “You do?”

You’re surprised to say the least to his reaction. “Yes—“ your sentence halts to a stop when Jake kisses you, palming a hand on your warm cheek and you sigh onto his lips.

“That’s…” he laughs again, “That’s amazing.” He looks up at you, pupils dilating. “You’re amazing.”

He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you again, this time harder. You’re being smushed from his grip and you giggle at his hyper, letting yourself melt into his warmth.

The more your belly grew, the more your actual relationship with Jake grew. It just happened. Naturally. The man’s protectiveness grew as well, even though you could never really get him to fully admit it.

Placing a hand on your belly, leaning his head to you as he tsks. “My girl, stay in rest.”

“Jake, just because I am with child does not mean I am helpless. I am still apart of this clan, and I am still able to serve it,” you fight against him, brushing his hand off of your body and reaching for your bow. He snatches the bow just as your fingers gaze the handle, and he hangs it above his head. You try swooping it out from him but he raises it higher, smirking as you huff in frustration.

“Pretty helpless right now.” He quips, unable to fight his shit-eating grin as he watches you try to reach your bow with your waving arm. You end up huffing and puffing, placing a hand on your stomach as you give up. You suddenly groan in pain, and Jake’s smug expression drops, immediately dropping his arm to place a concerned hand on your shoulder.

You snatch the bow from his now lowered arm, rushing it to hide behind you and press at your back as you laugh mischievously. Jake snaps his head to your face, frowning until he can’t help but let a small smirk break past his facade. “Not dumb, though.”

When you’re at the final trimester, you’re big, and heavy. Your feet are puffed up and your back twitches in pain every single time you move a muscle. It’s torture. And to add onto it, your self esteem is at your lowest.

Crying on Jake’s shoulder as he rubs your back with his big fingers, nose sniffly as you weep. “Ijustdon’tunderstandwhyyyy— huAp,” a loud hiccup slips from you. “IfeelsosoarallofthetiiiiiimemybreastshurtconstantlyweirdstuffcomesoutofmewhydoesEywahatemesooo…”

He gives reassuring kisses to your forehead, eyes closed with a faint, tired smile tugged on his lips as he coos, “It’s alright, my yuey.”

You certainly do not feel beautiful.

“Got that babymama glow.” Jake adds, mumbling as he gives another smooch to your forehead. He receives a defeated whimper in response, your body curling in his form as his arm wrapped around your form tightens around you.

When the baby comes, it fucking comes. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs as you clench at Jake’s hand with a bone-crushing grip. Healers swarm around you like bees, holding your legs, stomach, and every patch of your body except for your head, which Jake holds with his second hand.

Jake licks at his lips. “You’re doing great, sweetie—”

“Shut the fuck up, Jake!”

“Yep, ok.”

With one final push, the baby’s out. One of the healer’s holds the baby in her arms, a hint of a smile on her face as she hands your child into your arms. Warm tears rim around your eyes as you hold your new born baby, leaning against Jake’s body as he rubs at your back. You’re able to feel his chest tremble, and when you look up to him, there’s a tear striding down his cheek. With what energy you have, you scoop your arm around his neck, bringing his head down with your head as you give him a kiss to the cheek.

He returns it with a kiss to your forehead, yet unable to take his eyes off of his baby in your arms. “My Syaté,” you whisper lovingly. Syay meaning fate, a definition tied faintly in with blessing. Her nose sniffles and twitches, tiny eyebrows crinkling before she begins to cry. Jake can’t even seem to get care, as he holds the chubby cheek of his new babygirl and he can’t help but feel a new spring of fresh tears corrupt his face.

Jake barely leaves you and the baby. He says that he must protect his family, that it’s a bigger priority than doing anything else. But you’re not sure if that’s just a big fat excuse for him to hold her for hours. Laying in his lap, as he swipes a hand over her little head and feeling the thin, small fuzz of hair on it. With you at his side, singing to her as you stroke her cheek with a soft thumb.

The fire in front of you crackles, as the night’s cool air breezes on your backs. She coos out a gurgled giggle in reply.

Sometimes, Jake’ll just have Syaté in his arms as you fall in a much needed sleep, just staring at her face because he’s still stunned at the fact that in his arms, this is his child. It boggles him. He didn’t even think he’d ever find someone to love him, let alone carry his baby. But here you are, sleeping beside his leg peacefully and your face just looks so pretty and calm that it makes him want to cry.

Holding up his baby as the people surround him in circles, swaying side to side as you watch in awe. The new child of the people’s Olo’eyktan. Jake gently holds her up, the light from the sky shining on her small body and her legs squirming a little. “Syaté!”

“Syaté,” they repeat, echoing amongst the forest and you smile, teeth shining through your lips.

Connecting her tsaheylu to the many branches of the Tree Of Souls, connecting her to Eywa. Jake can see the way her eyes light up, can see the way her lips widen in a giggly manner.

The first time taking Syaté to have a bath in the river. Jake insists that he holds her on the way, and you grin, dashing through the forest because it’s the most freedom you’ve had in a long time.

Once getting there, you both gently get into the river, as Jake cradles Syaté in his arms. He holds her above the water until you give him the signal to lower her. The water swims at her feet, goes in between her little toes and she makes a noise at the feeling of it. He shifts his hand in a cup-like form, ripping it over his baby’s head gently. Slowly, he lowers her down into the river. You laugh gently at the way she screws up her face. “I know, babygirl. It’s a bit cold,” Jake chuckles.

She awkwardly blinks away the water that drops into her eyes, dripping at her black eyelashes and Jake wipes it away with his thumb before she could whine about it. Jake then shifts his eyes to you whisking through the stream, hair wet and following you as it flows weightless amongst the water. You end your swim in front of him, sneakily dipping your head over and blowing raspberries on Syaté’s chubby belly. She giggles immediately, the sound pure music to Jake’s ears.

Jake goes to give a million kisses to her cheek, nuzzling his nose in her skin as she ropes out rounds of uncontainable laughter. You start to laugh as well, and Jake can’t help but laugh, too.

Once back from the river, you sit in the open gap between Jake’s legs, Syaté a sleepy mess in warm your arms. She sucks at your breast with a new born baby hunger, even going as far to push a tiny hand on it to give her more. You rub at her tummy with the soft of your palm, mumbling your songcord. The fire in front of you is warm and orange, illuminating against the blue of your skin and creating a glowy atmosphere. Jake sighs through his nose, sliding a hand up and down your thigh as his legs fold under yours.

The heart beating in his chest is full, and he can’t name anywhere he would rather be. He rakes a few fingers through your hair, landing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck as contentment fills in his body, his mind brewing with the sense to protect. To protect his new-found family.

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tojivu · 2 months

Note

Hey love, can i request the jjk men (or just Gojo tbh) taking care of their SO after giving birth? That would be suuuper sweet and thank you💙💙

father and husband ⋆ gojo satoru

gojo takes care of you after giving birth + other hcs

an. i'm not done with the long ass gojo fic so i'm finishing this draft first. sorry i do not know much about birth i am a teenager writing fanfiction after all...... my google search history might make my parents think i'm pregnant

cw. sfw, f!reader, not proofread, mentions of female anatomy, suggestive jokes at the end

playing. 17 by pink sweat$, ft. joshua and dk of seventeen.

"this is so unfair, 'toru."

the thick sheets the private hospital provided you with restrained you from sitting up. sunlight pours into the room through the spaces in the blinds — the ward is awfully quiet, much unlike your expectations.

"huh?"

you turn your head towards the leather chair situated next to your bed. it's a pale beige, clashing with the various blues this hospital decorates itself with — and with the white hair of the man you call your husband.

his hair falls messily onto the material. you furrow your eyebrows and wonder what has gotten into him; he's been much quieter than usual. this was not typical satoru behaviour.

your newborn baby was getting examined and you were told it would take a bit. your family wouldn't be coming down till tomorrow morning — something you didn't mind because you were so sure satoru, your loving husband, was just as prepared as you are for the birth.

"he's got your eyes," you mutter. the anxiety was really starting to kick in now; satoru was never this quiet. ever. your attempts at making conversation echo, and it's eerie how you could forget satoru was even here if you just closed your eyes. "satoru?"

you swear you see a thick bead of sweat roll down his temple. he sits cautiously, as if he is ready to spring up into action any moment now.

"i'm so scared, [name]." gojo's voice trembles and it bounces off the walls; you feel your heart skip a beat, only to pound harder the next.

SATORU starts bawling when he gets to hold his baby after the discharge. tears run down his face like two waterfalls, staining his sweatshirt. your baby looks at him with the most curious eyes, before shutting them and returning to a deep sleep.

he holds your son as if he's fragile glass, grip firm and careful not to slip — your fingers wipe the tears pooling at his waterline and gojo can't help but look at you with absolute adoration.

"please stop crying, 'toru," you smile up at the crybaby you call your husband. "you can't drive with tears in your eyes."

he tries to speak but nothing comes out. gojo's voice cracks before saying anything and he only manages to nod, handing the baby back to you.

SATORU who makes sure to help you with whatever you need, you just need to order him around. he's just as new to this parenting thing as you are, given you are the only woman he's ever loved — patience is needed with him as much as it's needed with you.

for example: satoru would never complain about waking up early in the morning to feed your son. he'd spring out of bed, nervous yet oddly confident. he was afraid of not being fatherly enough — so, this was a wonderful start. he was extremely elated when you asked him to do such a duty the night prior.

he slips out of the sheets and sees your peaceful face, lips parted and letting out small snores; gojo knew you needed the rest after all the sleepless nights.

"good morning," satoru's softly cooing at your son, careful arms scooping him up into his chest and out of the baby blue crib (that coincidentally matches both their eyes). your son only cries in response, much to satoru's displeasure.

your husband can't help but smile down at his child, before glancing over at you a few feet away; comfortably wrapped in your shared blanket.

"mama's asleep, so you're stuck with me." he mimics a pout, but words could not describe how happy he was. your son could only stare blankly at him, giggling when he presses a gentle kiss on his forehead. "sorry, not sorry."

although the baby doesn't bond with your husband that well (yet), his determination is unwavering. he makes sure to be nearby the bedroom — but not too far away, in case something goes wrong — so his cries don't wake you.

all goes well until gojo changes your son's diaper an hour later and gets pee all over his hands, that he rushes into your bedroom for help.

"[name], baby," he bites his lip out of worry, opening the door with his dry hand and calling for you. "he peed on me—"

you give him a thank you kiss for trying anyway.

SATORU who rubs your shoulders for you, or really any other body part ever — he's a weirdly good masseuse. you often find yourself falling asleep on the couch as he kneads your pains away.

"baby," he whispers.

you three were on the couch, watching a movie in the late evening. your groans don't go unnoticed, and he knows you've been holding your baby for quite some time in hopes of calming him down.

"psst, baby." satoru repeats, the arm around your shoulder tapping the flesh of yours. "aren't you tired?"

"a little," you sigh. "he might wake up if i put him down."

"nah," satoru caresses your shoulder gently. "put him down for a minute. i'll help."

"help?"

"did you know i give really good massages?" satoru smirks, "your husband's crazy talented, i know."

you raise an eyebrow. you've never heard of gojo satoru massaging people — you're a little skeptical, but put down your son in the bassinet next to the couch nonetheless.

the ache in your shoulder and back were a little too intense to bear, now. satoru could tell with the way you were shifting around in your position every 5 minutes.

well, all your doubt washes away almost as fast as it came — you find yourself knocked out on the couch for the next hour, your head against satoru's shoulder.

SATORU who makes sure to give you extra kisses and extra hugs during this period of change.

he understands how difficult it must be for you — although maybe not to the full extent, considering he doesn't have a uterus — but he wants to try, and try he does.

whenever you have baby blues, he's always there. he kisses the tears off your cheeks, wiping them away with his thumb and whispering soft praises in your ears.

satoru couldn't express how grateful he is to you for giving him a son to love, to raise with you. he can only attempt to say it in words and through kisses, although he feels that may never be enough.

"i-i'm sorry for waking you, 'toru," you sniffle, even if your body language screams the opposite — your head is buried in satoru's chest and he has his hands running through your hair.

"shh, it's okay baby — don't be sorry," he holds your body close to him with his other hand, tracing circles onto the thin fabric of your clothes. "i'm here."

other times, you break down while trying to take care of your son — sometimes the cries get too loud and overwhelming, and everything you do just seems to make it worse.

satoru hears your crying and he immediately rushes over (if he wasn't already in the room with you), taking your son from your hands and trying to calm him down himself. he'll press a kiss onto your forehead, using his free hand to wipe your tears away — and he'll tell you to let him take over.

"shit," he swears under his breath, rushing into the room and seeing your tear-stained face; satoru instinctively reaches for the baby and you hand him over. "let me do it, okay?"

you nod, desperately wiping your face with the sleeves of your hoodie — before satoru uses his right hand to wipe them for you, his lips planted on your forehead.

"i'm s-sorry," you mutter, feeling a little better when you feel the skin of your husband on yours. "i don't know what to do—"

"it's okay, baby," he smiles, tucking stray hairs behind your ears as you continue to calm yourself down; your baby is still crying, and satoru looks oddly calm as opposed to you. "let me take over for a bit."

sure, he gets overwhelmed sometimes; but he needs to be your glue in case you can't pull yourself together. even if he's clueless too, he has to be strong for you — he can imagine the chaos that would ensue if he wasn't.

when he puts the baby to sleep half an hour later, he returns to the bedroom to find you in bed: wrapped in a blanket with tissues in your hands.

satoru feels his heart break at the sight.

he climbs into bed with you and his arms find purchase on your waist, pulling you closer to him; his warmth feels like the medicine you've been needing this entire time, and it's almost as if all your anxiety dissipates.

"you did good today," his cold breath tickles the back of your neck, and you feel his nose bump at your nape. "i'm proud of you."

"it was all you this time," you reply in a hushed voice, throat hurting at the tears you were trying to keep in. "i don't know what i'd do—"

"no," satoru interrupts you. "i couldn't feed the baby this morning, and you did it instead — remember?"

"i remember. you knocked over the formula."

"mhm," satoru hums, his fingers intertwining with yours. "and you did it in only 2 minutes. you're too good at this baby thing, [name]."

"you don't seem so scared anymore, satoru."

you hear a laugh escape from your husband's lips. "thanks to you," and he's pressing kisses along the outline of your shoulder and neck. "i'm the strongest, after all — what can i not do?"

"you're the cockiest, too," you snicker, and you only earn a dramatic gasp from the man behind you.

"don't talk about cock with me right now."

your jaw drops slightly, before you flip your body over to face satoru's direction: he has an annoying smirk painted on his face. "you are so disgusting, satoru."

"you know you love me—" and just as satoru's leaning in for a kiss on the lips, cries from the nursery room erupt.

"man."

writers block is real i think

#tojivu ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo satoru

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peacelovepandora · 10 months

Text

Exceeding It All

Jake Sully x Daughter!Reader

@missdreamofendless : "I’ve always wanted to see something with Jake and his newborn daughter, I just think it would be adorable"

^ thanks for the idea love !

enjoyyyyyy <3

. *. ⋆

Within the confines of the elders' quarters, Neytiri was in the process of giving life to you. Pacing frantically, Jake struggled to check his emotions as he awaited the birth of his third child. His two sons, Neteyam and Lo'ak, were being watched by other members of the clan. Though it was the middle of the night, far into the hours of eclipse, adrenaline kept Jake wide awake.

Neteyam and Lo'ak had both been quick births. However, tonight, Jake's mind raced as he noted how much longer you were taking.

Was everything okay? Was there a complication? Was Neytiri alright?

It took all of his strength not to burst into the tent. He'd already interrupted the elders four previous times. He knew that--should he make it a fifth--that they would be far from pleased with him.

As he tried to control his breathing, he looked down at his hands, dusting them at his sides.

Were his hands clean enough to hold you? What if he infected you with something and got you sick?

Frowning, Jake shook his head. He'd already done this twice before. Why was he so nervous with this one? What was different? Searching his mind for an explanation, he couldn't help falling into a cycle of affectionate thoughts.

What would you be like? Would he have another son to accompany his two others?

Relaxing a bit, Jake chuckled to himself as he envisioned three rowdy boys padding through the forest. Then, looking down at his hands, he finally made up his mind.

"Yeah, I should go wash up," he whispered to himself.

As he prepared to leave, a faint jakesully caused him to halt his movements. Turning around, he was met with the sight of Mo'at, holding the entrance beads back with one hand.

After a moment's silence, Jake finally spoke. "Mo'at?" Jake asked breathlessly.

"It is time," she replied, before nodding towards the inside of the tent, "Come."

For a moment, Jake stared at her, mouth agape and eyes wide. Then, swallowing thickly, he brushed his hands over his torso before sucking in a breath. With a small smile, Mo'at waited for Jake to approach the entrance before turning around and walking inside.

As Jake's heart pounded in his ears, he pulled the beads aside before stepping into the fire-lit quarters. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust--for he'd been relying on the bioluminescent lighting of the forest outside. Once they did, he spotted Neytiri's limp figure. Eyes closed, she was taking deep breaths as exhaustion crossed her expression. Moving quickly, Jake kneeled by her side, cupping her face in the process.

"Baby?" he whispered, rubbing a thumb over her cheek.

"Let her rest, Jakesully," Mo'at instructed, "She has just been relieved of the burden of birthing your daughter."

"I kno--" Jake spun around, eyebrows creased as his mouth fell agape. "Daughter?"

Mo'at raised her eyebrows. "Yes," she answered, "Eywa has blessed you with a daughter."

Sticking her hand out, Mo'at gestured towards two other elders. They were two women, both sitting on the floor, backs to him. After standing up, moving at a careful pace, Jake stepped towards the women. Feeling his presence behind them, one of them glanced back, meeting his gaze before scooting to the side. As she did so, he was finally given a view of you, his daughter.

Your small body was lying on a weaved blanket. Small, nearly inconceivable, noises were coming from your tiny lips. Instantly, Jake was taken back to the births of his two sons. Both boys had been loud babies, crying as soon as they'd reached the world.

But you, you were quiet. Your coos grew softer as your legs kicked out. Then, reaching out, your small hands grew agitated--reaching out for a purpose that was unknown to you.

Jake, however, was fully aware of that purpose. An aching paternal instinct fueled his heart with a fierce protectiveness that had never been so strong before.

Your eyes were closed. You had entered the world only minutes before. And yet, your newborn instincts could already recognize someone of your own blood. The small fibers in your body felt his presence and knew to reach out for him.

"Oh my," he breathed.

Gingerly, the woman sitting closest to him scooped you up. Jake had little time to register the moment before you were being handed to him. Sucking in a breath, Jake reached his hands out, cupping your back and head.

Quickly realizing this was an awkward grip, he readjusted himself to cradle you. Leaning back slightly, he released his breath as he tucked your head into the crook of his arm. Though he was capable of supporting you with one arm--given that you were just that small--he tucked his other arm beneath you for extra security.

Daughter, his mind echoed.

For a long moment, he remained silent as he gazed down at you. He hadn't realized that his mouth had fallen agape until his throat grew dry. Closing his mouth, he forced a swallow before nearly panicking as your eyes popped open.

Jake blinked, feeling his heart race as he held your gaze for the very first time. However, as your fresh gaze morphed from sudden-alertness to curiosity, Jake's demeanor softened, as well.

After releasing a long exhale, he finally broke the silence. "Wow," he spoke breathlessly, feeling a small smile tug at his lips, "Hey, baby girl. There you are."

"Were you expecting another son?" Mo'at asked, raising an eyebrow as a smile tugged at her lips.

"I don't know what I was expecting," Jake answered distractedly, never ripping his gaze from you, "but this . . . God, this exceeds everything. Every expectation I ever had. She exceeds everything."

As a small whimper escaped your lips, Jake frowned, instinctively searching your body.

"She's uncomfortable," Mo'at explained as Jake gently bounced you, "Fresh out of the womb, her body temperature is still warm. We must bathe her now."

"Let me," Jake spoke up, a little too harshly.

The women grew silent, staring at him. Jake's gaze shifted between the three of them before correcting himself.

"I mean . . . I never got to bathe my sons. It would be greatly appreciated if you would do me the honor of allowing me to bathe my firstborn daughter."

The two women looked to Mo'at. Lips pressed together, Mo'at scrutinized Jake's possessive grip on your small frame. After a few more moments of silence, she released a sigh before nodding once.

"Very well," she agreed, "but I will instruct you on how to conduct this properly first."

. *. ⋆

"Okay," Jake breathed, gently lying your body against the carefully-arranged leaves, "Alright."

Releasing his grip from behind your head, Jake began arranging the bathing supplies. In a militant manner, he repeated Mo'at's steps within his mind.

However, after a few minutes of feeling the absence of his hands from your body, a small whimper escaped your lips. Immediately, Jake turned his attention from the soap and ointment, focusing his sharp gaze on you.

"Hm?" he hummed, reaching out to take your small hands between his pointer and thumb fingers, "Hey . . . hey, baby. Easy, sweetheart, I'm here. I have you."

Upon feeling his touch, your whimpers dissolved. A smile tugged at Jake's lips as he caught on to your desire to remain close to him.

"Yeah," he whispered, nodding slightly, "I've got you."

Leaning down, he placed a light kiss on your forehead. Then, turning his attention back to the soap and ointment, he continued to organize them, keeping a loose grip on one of your hands as he did so.

When he was satisfied, he released a breath before giving you his full attention, once again. Turning to face you, he returned his grip to both of your hands. He rubbed his thumbs over your skin as he spoke in a hushed tone.

"Okay, baby girl," he began, "you wanna do me a favor and make this easy for me? It'll be better for the both of us in the long run."

Cooing softly, you held his gaze before tugging your hands from his grip. Hands outward, you reached for his face.

A tender smile pulled at his lips as a fond expression crossed his face. Leaning down, he allowed your hands to hover over his cheekbones. Then, closing the distance, he gently pressed his forehead against yours.

A delighted coo left your lips, before a giggle followed it. Jake, who had temporarily closed his eyes, snapped them open. Leaning back, he gave himself a full view of your tiny face. A smile danced on your lips as you giggled up at him.

Shaking his head, he placed two kisses on your forehead. He followed them with two kisses on your cheek.

"You're so beautiful. You're such a--"

He interrupted himself, placing two kisses on your stomach, eliciting giggles from you. "Such a pretty girl," he finished.

As you quieted, he kept his gaze trained on you. "Alright," he rasped, gently wrapping his hands around you, "Let's do this."

Carefully lifting you, he positioned you over a carefully carved bathtub, which was filled with soft shrubs and lukewarm water. A soft pillow, which had been folded together from a leaf, laid at the edge of the tub---giving cushion for your head to rest on above the water. Gingerly, he lowered you into the water, holding his breath as he awaited your reaction. To his relief, the slight change in environment didn't seem to disturb you.

Puffing his cheeks out, he released a breath. "Okay . . ." he whispered, trying to bury his apprehension.

He knew from experience that his babies could sense his emotions, and the last thing he wanted to do was make you nervous. After releasing you, allowing you to grow accustomed to the water, he grabbed a cloth and the first soap.

Your curious eyes watched his movements, as he dipped the cloth into the water before soaking it with soap. After placing the soap down, he turned his attention back to you. Meeting your eyes, a small smile tugged at his lips.

Tilting his head slightly, he spoke up. "Alright," he whispered, lowering the cloth to your skin, "let's start with this little belly, shall we?"

With a feather-light touch, he moved the cloth in circular motions against your skin. The combination of his motions, and the water, relieved your overheated body. A small smile tugged at your little lips as you cooed up at him, enjoying the sensation.

He smiled, a playful glint evident in his gaze. "There's that smile," he said softly, "Is this what you needed, baby? Feels nice, doesn't it?"

Your legs kicked briefly in response. As he began to move to your arms, gently grabbing your little limbs and washing them, he continued to talk to you.

"Guess it makes sense that you'd be pretty warm and uncomfortable after being in the womb for so long," he whispered, before meeting your eyes, once again, "but you're here now, aren't you? As beautiful as ever."

He moved to your legs, gently running the cloth over your soft skin. “I gotta tell ya, you were quite the little surprise,” he continued, “but that isn’t your doing. That was all on me. It’s like I forgot there was a possibility that I could have a little girl.”

When you eyed him curiously, he chuckled. “Aw, cut your daddy a little slack. After having two sons, it’s easy to just expect another one.”

Finally, he slowly poured water over you, washing the soap off. “But I’m so glad that I got you, baby girl," he finished, a small smile tugging at his lips, "You were the last thing I ever expected and the best thing I could've had."

He remained attentive to your every move as he finished washing you. Then, gripping you carefully, he lifted you from the water and placed you on a large, warm cloth. His eyes grew distant as he spoke.

"Never really thought about having a daughter, but now that I have you, I think I subconsciously wanted one all along."

He releases a breath through his nose before locking eyes with you. A content expression crossed your face as you squirmed slightly.

"Ah!" you said, responding to his string of sentences that you had yet to understand.

He chuckled, nodding his head. "That's right, baby," he replied, leaning closer to you, "I'm talking about you."

Gripping the sides of the towel, he dried your damp body with gentle pats. Then, shifting his gaze for a moment, he grabbed the ointment before placing it next to your little body.

"Okay," he breathed, "The hard part is over. Now, we just gotta lotion you up."

Dipping his fingers into the cup of ointment, he scooped up a generous amount before rubbing it together in his palms.

Watching his movements---with fresh eyes that marveled at everything---you found humor in his actions. A giggle escaped your lips as your eyes zeroed in on his hands, observing him rubbing them together.

Jake paused his actions, glancing down at you. He raised an eyebrow before briefly rubbing his hands together for a moment, testing your reaction. When he paused his actions, another giggle escaped your lips.

He let out a brief chuckle, furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity and slight confusion. Then, he rubbed his hands together again, before pulling them apart and showing you the ointment on his palms, wiggling his fingers to flaunt the liquid texture.

His actions elicited a fresh wave of giggles on your part. Chuckling softly, he glanced at his hands before looking back at you.

"Is that funny, baby girl?" Jake asked, affection seeping through his tone, "Do you like seeing Daddy struggle with pampering you?"

You cooed in response, a small smile still dancing on your lips. He shook his head, smiling softly as he lowered his hands to your body. With a tender touch, his fingers moved in circular motions over your smooth skin, massaging in the moisturizing liquid.

When he went to get another scoop of liquid, he made a show out of his hand movements, exaggerating each rub and wiggling his fingers in the air. To his delight, this sent you into a fit of laughter.

He tilted his head back in laughter before tilting his head. "This is really gettin' you goin', isn't it?" he asked, "I can't help wondering what you find so amusing about this . . . but I guess it doesn't really matter. If it makes you laugh, I'll do it all night."

Once he finished moisturizing you, he swaddled you in a light blanket, making sure you wouldn't grow too warm. Finally content, he lifted you into his hands and cradled you in his arms.

"There we go," he whispered, adjusting you slightly, "How's that, sweet girl?"

Your eyelids grew heavy as you blinked up at him. Still awestruck by your existence, he leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead before leaning back to take you in. Once he began rocking you, it didn't take long for you to nod off in his arms.

"A daughter," he whispered, shaking his head in disbelief, "A daughter that's all mine."

As he held you, he reflected on what having a little girl would entail---the journey that was ahead. Though Neteyam and Lo'ak were still young, he never had a second thought about who their future partners would be. His mind had never lingered on what teenage girls might find them intriguing during their adolescent years. And yet, as he stared down at you, his little girl, he was overwhelmed with a strong wave of possessiveness as he pictured your adolescent years.

No boy would come near you. No boy would touch you. He would make sure of it.

Jake's mind grew still as he caught himself in the midst of these racing thoughts. This was new territory for him.

You were his little girl. As he thought about how he would go about raising you, his instincts veered from what he'd done with his sons. Of course, he wanted you to be strong, and to know how to defend yourself, but that instinct wasn't at the forefront of his mind---like it was for his sons.

Instead, more than anything, he wanted to . . . shield you. He wanted to hold you close and keep you away from harm. He wanted to see you blissfully pad through the forest and marvel at Eywa's creations, just like your mother. He didn't want to see you fight---not if you didn't have to.

Jake made a vow to himself. He promised to not only protect you, but to remain in tune with your emotional state. He knew that raising his tender baby girl would require different approach---compared to how he was raising his two rowdy boys.

"I'm here for you, baby girl," Jake whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek, "Always."

. *. ⋆

omgggg I finally put this out! thank you so so much for your patience, and a special thank you to all of you that have remained loyal, continued to check in, and/or simply stuck around for me! I cherish you all and I hope you are all doing well and having a great summer!

as usual, let me know what your thought are about this! it's been awhile since I've delved into this universe, so if anything comes off a little rusty, I apologize!

anyways, all my love!

hugs and kisses x.

Taglist : @eywas-daughter @pturnersblog @bombshe77 @faatxma @scryarchives @gamorxa @222krn @ellabellabus07 @perfectprofessorloverapricot @raefoxiegirl @vampxra @itssiaaax @tinkerbelle05 @brittclass-18 @missroro @aisylazzy @leomatsuzaki @joey-hoey @eternallyvenus @mae-is-crazy @nyotamalfoy @mashiromochi @theghostofshadows @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @cmfouatslota77 @laylasbunbunny @fanboyluvr @phxntomx11 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @ellabellabus07 @abbersreads @23victoria @sully-stick-together @uselessbutinteresting @fleursbending @missdreamofendless @prty-poisxn

#jake sully x daughter!reader #jake sully daughter #jake sully #jake sully x reader #jake sully x you #avatar way of water #Jake Sully fluff #Jake Sully x y/n #soft #protective Jake sully #Jake sully 2009

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the-offside-rule · 3 months

Text

Charles Leclerc (Scuderia Ferrari) - Mon Ange

Requested: yes

Prompt: literally just Charles becoming a girl dad

Warnings: dad!Charles

Charles anxiously paced the hospital corridor, his mind filled with the rhythmic roar of the engines he'd left behind at the race track. The sweet anticipation of becoming a father clashed with the lingering scent of gasoline that clung to him. "Charles, sit down. It's fine." Lorenzo said. "Mama is in with her, she'll be fine." Arthur chimed in. "I know but I can't help but be nervous." Charles mumbled. "What if I'm not good at this?" I'm always away racing. I don't want my daughter to always have to change where she is growing ip just to come and see me race. I could never-" The door opened and out walked Pascale with a beaming smile on her face. Charles stepped forward to his mother with his two brothers pouncing off their seats in anticipation. "Is she alright? Y/n I mean. Maybe my baby too. Are they alright?" Charles asked frantically. "She's fine. Y/n just didn't know if you were back from the race yet." Pascale assured him. "She hasn't had the baby yet. She's waiting for you." Charles moved past his mother and raced to Y/n's side.

Y/n's head had fallen back in exhaustion. She was far too tired to do this and she would be damned if she would do this without her daughter's dad. She flinched as she felt a familiar set of hands grab hers by her bedside. She turned to see Charles kissing her skin. "You're doing great, Mon cœur." he reassured, holding her hand tightly. "Oh thank God you're back." Y/n nearly sobbed. "They wanted me to have her without you." He smiled gently. "It's alright. I'm back now. Let's just breath. Remember how your nurse told you?" Y/n smiled through the pain, and breathed with her boyfriend. "Thank you, Charles. I'm so glad you're here with me." He chuckled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." Leaning in, he whispered. "Our little princess is on the way."

As the contractions intensified, Y/n gripped Charles' hand tightly. "This is intense." she gasped. Charles nodded, "I can only imagine. But we're in this together." He reached for her forehead, wiping away beads of sweat. "You're incredible, love." Charles laughed weakly. "Easy for you to say." She groaned.

The midwife smiled as she looked up to the couple. "Get ready to meet your baby after this push." Y/n's grip tightened on Charles' hand. "Im so scared." She whispered. "So am I. Just hold my hand as tight as you want." He said, moving her hand back behind her head and placing a kiss on her forehead. "One last push and we have it mon cœur." Y/n took a few deep breaths before she began her final push. With one roar of pain, another's first breath was taken. The pair looked down as they lifted the baby to Y/n's chest. She lifted her hands away from Charles and held her baby closely. Charles couldn't hold back tears of joy. "We did it, Y/n. Look at our beautiful baby." He gently cradled the newborn in his. Y/n smiled, exhausted but radiant. "Our little champion." Charles kissed her forehead. "Look at her." The nurses took the baby to get her all cleaned up while Charles sat right next to Y/n caressing her face.

"Mr Leclerc?" The couple turned to face the nurse. "Would you like to cut the Umbilical cord?" Charles looked surprised. "Am I allowed?" The nurse nodded. "Father's generally do while the mother's rest a little." Charles took a deep breath, stepping forward to gaze at the delicate face of his daughter who was already squirming around. He smiled and ran a finger down her face. "Camille." He whispered, the name rolling off his tongue like a cherished melody. "You just need to snip here between the two clips and that's it." The nurse whispered. "Will it hurt her?" He asked. "Unfortunately, but only for a minute." He took a deep breath, and with one snip, the tears erupted again. "Je suis désolé mon ange, je ne voudrais jamais te faire du mal." He cooed. He sat observing the nurses carefully, already being quite protective of her and finally, he got to hold her.

Charles walked back carefully cradling the small bundle in his arms, not daring to look away. "She's beautiful." He said, sitting down on Y/n's bed. His girlfriend, beaming with exhaustion, looked at him with teary eyes. "She's perfect, Charles." As he held Camille for the first time, the weight of responsibility and love settled on his shoulders. "Hey there, little one," he cooed, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I'm your Daddy." He smiled. "Pascale is going to love her." Y/n whispered. "Are we still going with Camille." She asked. "Of course. We have this name picked out for months." He replied. Charles marveled at the tiny fingers that curled around his own.

That, as Monaco's golden sunset bathed the hospit in warm hues, Charles cradled Camille in his arms as Y/n slept soundly. "You know, sweetheart," he began, his voice tender, "I may race for a living, but you-" He paused. "You're my greatest victory." Camille, still too young to comprehend words, gurgled happily in response. Charles chuckled, a mixture of exhaustion and elation in his eyes. "Chaque course, c'est pour toi et maman. À chacun, je vous promets que mon ange."

Weeks later, Charles returned home from another race weekend, the scent of motor oil now replaced by the sweet aroma of baby powder. He opened the door, and there she was – his girlfriend, weary but smiling, holding Camille in her arms, while Charles held his newest P1 trophy for his family.

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #f1 oneshot #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc oneshot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #dad!charles leclerc

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loaksbitch · 1 year

Text

“need to ruin you for me” — neteyam sully (⨳)

imagine being newly parent and neteyam missing your body so much, so he asks you to see him in the hut you to share to end up fucking his pent up frustration in you? that’s right. — i’m back at it ᐢ..ᐢ

pairing : baby daddy!neteyam x fem!reader

warnings : dad!neteyam needs his own warning, frustration-fucking, orgasm denial, teasing, one mention of spanking if you squint, quickie but it’s not (?), just neteyam starving and missing being close with you. ( wc – 1.7k)

“what are you doing?” impatient neteyam stood behind you, looking over the bead you’re knotting.

you peeled behind your shoulder, holding one bead to your finger and sliding it down the thin rope for your newborn. the urge in your mate’s voice didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“songcord for our baby.” you shrugged.

“oh, songcord?” neteyam nodded, heading to your direction. “but he’s asleep right now.”

“i know baby, i just wan–“

“uh-huh, that’s so nice,” he was quick to interrupt, “can i see you in our hut in a minute?” neteyam didn’t wait for your answer and you giggled hearing his steps fade away.

you put the almost complete beads carefully down and stride behind him, nearly stumbling against your own feet. excitement was starting to course inside you, gut twisting with adrenaline.

and the moment you both were inside your hut, neteyam pushed you into your bedroom and slid the curtain of the hut fully which only caused your skin to prickle with goosebumps at his serious face.

neteyam was craving for you just like you were, especially with you both not being around each other after you welcomed your baby to pandora because you were just simply supposed to heal fully.

and as if he was reading your mind, both of your bodies collided with equal force, the kiss becoming sloppy and messy real quick. neteyam’s eager moans and laboured breathing filled the room.

he was groping on what he was able to, missing how your skin felt against his. “fuck.” he hissed between the kiss.

“you infuriate me, y’know.” he was pulling on your loincloth roughly, tugging it out from your chest and exposing the swell of your tits. “why? what did i do?’” you purposely keened, hand sought to his braids.

neteyam groaned when you slightly pulled on his hair, his cock twitching under his fabric. “you’ve been prancing back and forth in front of me for six weeks when you know i can’t do anything i want to you?”

you love how he’s so desperate and in need of you.

“and you dare to pull that fucking stunt saying you’re beading our son’s songcord– fuck.” he spun you around and the sound of him pulling you to his chest and pressing your back firm to his almost making you fall apart.

“i was tryin…” neteyam had no desire in hearing your excuses. “get up there.” he motions and you noise out eagerly.

thrills ran up and down the length of your spine when a sting was felt upon your perked ass. “moving too slow, princess.” your mate roars at you with a grin on his face. “i’m starting to think you’re doing that on purpose, hm?”

you begin to inch back to the hammock, breath chopped when the bed sinks as neteyam joins you and moves closer towards you.

“no i don’t.” you try to fight back, a knowing coy smile tinted on your soft lips. “you don’t?” neteyam’s tone told you believed not a flying fuck that’s coming out of your mouth.

you open your mouth to speak but large hands pulling you under him by your ankle made you gasp loud. neteyam grasped on your thighs, pulling you to him and spreading your legs wider to get comfortable between them.

your blue skin was slightly darker, blood rushing to them. neteyam’s hand smoothed down your heat, lightly pressing on your soaked loincloth. you whimper when he rubs on the aching spot, rough skin of his fingers grinding over your covered clit.

the urge to vanish under his touch felt extremely intense, yet gradually you felt nearing your edge just with the slight friction he was giving you.

you really missed having him.

neteyam knew you like the back of his hand and your thighs starting to close against his body told him you’re just close and being brought to your limit. he watches you attentively on how your back arches, hand trailing down to wrap on his wrist.

“‘teyam.” you pant, throat closing with a moan— until your mate suddenly stopped.

your eyes, which you don’t remember closing, shoot wide open. and on neteyam’s face there was a knowing grin spread that makes you whine. “how does it feel to be frustrated?” he asks. your pussy pulsed around nothing and it pissed you off.

“neteyam.” you warningly whine.

“you don't like having to wait, do you?” you were quick to shake your head causing him to click his tongue. “this is how i felt for eight fucking weeks.” he grunts, the restrain against his tent making it hard to stay covered anymore.

“i was stopping myself from destroying you inside out.” he says and your breath catches in your throat.

“nete’ please?” you only plead, wanting him inside you, filling you up to the brim. “please what, baby?” neteyam was leaning to you, hovering over your body which makes you whimper excitedly.

you brought your hands to his neck, pulling him for a kiss and caressing his cheek softly, making sure you got his attention before whispering softly: “i want to feel you inside me.”

you bite your lips when neteyam’s lips parted, his amber eyes blown wide with your words and nose flaring to your unexpected admission. neteyam swore he almost came right there, throbbing under the so-tight loincloth.

your mate was fast to abandon his teasing, hurriedly submitting to your ask. barriers got discarded in a speed of light, neteyam pulling off everything cloth that was covering you away from him before he did the same for himself.

right the moment he had you comfortable and made sure it’s all good to go, neteyam moaned as he worked every inch of himself inside you. “i missed you.” he breathes against your lips, “so fucking much.” your skin shivered.

“missed you too, nete’” you gasp onto his mouth.

once he was fully bottomed out in you, he made sure his chest was pressed against your tits. feeling your heartbeat and wanting to be closer than that. you feel his left hand glide up to you right and lace your fingers with his before pinning it to the side of your head.

and the other went to your hips, stopping you from squirming at the heavy feeling between your thighs.

neteyam retracted his hips back only to thrust roughly, knocking your breath out. “mhm,” he breathed, eyes closed and smiling foolishly when your free hand brushed on his cheek.

both of your grunts and mewls mixed, filling the room with the warmth of your love making. neteyam took advantage of two of you being alone, no babies or family members interrupting you.

“c’mon, let me hear you.” he wanted to hear your soft moans when he fucked you slow, he wanted to hear the voice he missed, he wanted you to scratch his back and let him know how he was making you feel good.

“feels so g-good,” you stutter every time he worked himself in you.

neteyam grazed on his lips, then his hand that was pinning your hips down trailing to your breast and fondle with your nipple. “you feel so good.” he tells you.

your eyes were barely open but you managed to see neteyam, leaning and pressing his forehead to yours. the finger that was lacing with yours tightened its hold and he picked his pace up, fucking you to the mattress.

you knew he was trying to make you finish before him, and neteyam was losing his rhythm with his hips. the thrust getting sloppier and messier with very hits. “i’m so close.” he whines, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath.

you have lost the ability to speak the moment he got himself inside you, brain shutdown when he filled your gummy walls with his girth.

“i love you.” you hear him whisper to your ear.

you coming undone under him was what always made him fall in love all over again. “love…too, i love– too you.” your words are broken, tongue tied with pleasure. neteyam chuckled and gave your wet lips a soft peck. his forehead resting against yours for the second time.

“look at me.” he says and you oblige immediately.

neteyam stares into your eyes deeply, knowing he’s there, he starts to pound into you and chases his release. “let go for me.” your voice was enough to push him to the edge and his movements slowed down.

neteyam’s breathing stopped as he drove into you, pelvis pressing against each other. you moaned when he unintentionally grind against your sensitive bud.

you felt his swollen tip kissing the opening to your cervix before the man above you was grunting and choking on his own moan that came from his chest. you just allow him to finish inside you, biting your lips when he keeps whimpering and whining before covering himself by the crook of your neck.

it doesn’t take long for neteyam to get to his senses, blinking and bringing himself back to pandora.

“hey,” you tease and giggle for neteyam to follow. “hi, pretty.” he says and places a soft kiss between your brows. “i missed you so much.” he says again, wanting you to know he means what he was wording out, smiling at while he watched you bite on your lips, “i did too, really.”

you’re about to tap on his shoulder for him to move but neteyam has other plans. he draws himself that he slips out of you almost but thrusts back. “neteyam,” you start but your husband nudges you back to the bed.

“what are you—“ you shriek when you’re rolled over and neteyam is under you. the position only makes him sink into you deeper and you curse slightly silently.

“one more,” he traces the stripes of your skin on your hip. “give me one more and i’ll let you go.” he jerks his hips upward.

“teyam!” the only choice you’re left with was to gasp.

just rose from the dead and came back with another neteyam smut for now, i missed all of you!

like + reblog & feedback are very appreciated — i love each and every one of you sm! mwah **

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madeintheniamh · 8 months

Text

baby, you're the end of june

stmf one shot #22

a/n: newborn baby daddy harry is back <3 the sleepy morning fic won my poll so this is the result of it hehe.

warnings: fluff, lovey dovey morning smut

You and Harry had been snuggled up together on top of the sheets, the warmth of his body and the late June sun being enough to keep you warm. Your newborn daughter had woken up at 5 o’clock for her first feed, like she always did, and Harry had obliged, but you still hadn’t managed to fall back asleep, the quiet hum of the aircon keeping you awake. He shuffled around on top of the mattress, his tattooed arm now resting on the side of your face. His eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Sleep,” he muttered, his lips struggling to form the words. “You need to sleep, my love,”

“Shhhh,” You pressed your lips into his to silence him.

It had been nearly a month since you had given birth to Tilly, but looking over at him every morning in bed- you couldn’t stand it. The way his new Daddy stubble was spread across his jawline, because he was still too tired to shave. The way his hair was ruffled and a loose strand of it would always rest on top of his forehead. The slow rise and fall of his chest, which made his butterfly look like it too was breathing with him. His eyes had now opened fully, and the green of them shone brightly in the early morning sun. You had tried so hard to stop yourself. Your midwife had even laughed when you brought up how you felt about it last week. All you could think about was him, and how you missed the feeling of being full with his love. She just laughed and told you that she would probably feel the same if she was married to Harry Styles.

“I know how you feel, mumma,” She sighed. “Believe me, I can imagine. But the last thing we want is for you to tear your stitches. Just a few more weeks, and you can have all the loving time you deserve,”

You could feel the sheets beginning to become slightly damp underneath you, and were now trying to avoid Harry’s piercing gaze as he was now holding baby Tilly on his chest, humming to her slightly.

“What’s that face, lovebug,” He sighed.

You couldn’t stand it. The way his biceps flexed every-time he held her in his arms. The way his lips always lifted in the corners as he looked at her. You knew being a Dad would look good on him- but you didn’t realise it would look this good.

“Need you, Harry,” You stammered, as you looked back up at him. “Need all of you, can’t wait anymore,”

Harry giggled slightly, beginning to place Tilly back in her moses basket before clasping onto your hands, tracing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“You do?” His eyes lit up as you nodded. “I do too, baby, but remember what the midwife s-”

“But Harry, I need you,” You pleaded, watching his cheeks turn to a shade of crimson as a sharp outline appeared underneath his briefs. “Need you,”

He tilted your chin up with his finger and sighed. “You’re going to drive me crazy, you know that,”

“Please,” You begged.

“Fine, but we’re going slow,” He moaned, allowing you to roll down the waistband of his Calvins. “Nice and gentle,”

You moaned slightly. “But H,”

“You just had a baby, my love,” He scolded. “We can have sex anytime, there’s no rush,”

“I want you,” You exhaled.

“I know, I know,” Harry smiled, as you flinched when you felt him enter you. “So you’re going to have me, sunflower,”

You felt him fill you up, albeit gently. He was right, there really was no rush, and you secretly were holding back your winces as you were still sore from where your stitches were. He groaned as he thrusted backwards and forwards, filling you up with his love. A tiny bead of sweat coated his forehead, as his eyes fluttered closed with exertion.

“You let me know how you feel, baby,” He grunted. “I want you to feel good,”

“Good,” You moaned, a slight roar erupting from your mouth. “So good,”

You felt yourself coating him as he glided back and forth on top of you, as your arms braced his strong shoulders. He cupped your face in his hands.

“Let me take care of you,” He whispered, pressing his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin slightly. “You’ve been too good to me,”

“You’re good,” You gasped, feeling your eyes suddenly roll back, as you cried out, allowing him to fill you up fully again. “I love y-”

You were interrupted by the cry of your newborn daughter, who you had completely forgotten had been lying fast asleep in her moses basket next to the bed. Harry grunted slightly, beckoning himself to pull away. You grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him in closer.

“More, please,” You pleaded. “Stay with me,”

He smirked, letting himself fall flat on top of you, still filling you up slightly. This was exactly what you had been missing. He chuckled slightly, before collapsing onto the pillow next to you, as your fingers traced the butterfly on his chest. You both turned suddenly, as the crying became louder.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he sighed, as you allowed him to exit fully. He reached out to grab Tilly from her basket again, beginning to rock her in his arms. “Looks like you’ll have to share me,”

“Fine,” You groaned. “But we can’t have another one, the bags under my eyes are already dark enough,”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Harry chuckled, surveying his newborn daughter who had been soothed to sleep by the warmth of his chest, before gazing back up at you. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,”

-------

sjdejdewodpokwowkdmkmwndkjqwns

i may have written this myself but i am obsessed.

ik i haven't been very active the past few weeks :/ i missed you all so much. work has sadly gotten in the way and i haven't really been feeling myself. but i am trying to make myself feel myself again and this exercise deffo helped. please send ur fic suggestions (i am feeling baby daddy harry recently) - my inbox is always open. love you all <3

this makes chapter 22 of my one shot dadrry series, slipping through my fingers! i have linked the masterlist here if you did enjoy <3

have a beautiful week my loves take care and look after yourselves <3

#harry styles #dadrry #harry styles dad #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #stmf #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut

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heartfullofleeches · 4 months

Text

Crybaby

[Yan + Monster Reader blurb]

[tw: past self harm, thoughts of suicide. They/it pronouns used for Reader]

"ow...."

One day...That's all they ask. The human found themselves preparing a nice dinner for their love, yet they couldn't even one thing for someone without making a mistake. Fresh blood beads from their forefinger onto the cutting board. They swore they only looked away for a second. The wound was shallow - no deeper than ones they'd given themselves in the past, but it hurts...so much more when the cut is not intentional. When there's no time to brace for the pain. When there's no comfort to gain from it. They stare at their hand wondering why - why did the pain feel like home in those times, and such a stranger in others.

It didn't matter. They had to act quick. They had to clean up the blood before-

Hic....hic....

Soft whimpers emanate from the darkness of the hallway, a raspy click following every swallow of air between sobs. Tear eyes peer from the shadows, dipping lower as a body drags itself from the abyss into the light. The creature stumbles into the kitchen, the joints of their knees buckled like the legs of a newborn calf. Their body lacked the bone structure to properly walk upright, though it attempted to do so to feel closer to its human counterpart. Thin claws latch onto the walls, the table - using whatever surface within range to drag itself closer to the human. The smaller figure mets them halfway, barely bating an eye as the creature's breath heated fans their cheek. They reach out to touch its face as fat tears leak from the monster's eyes. Palm pressed to its cheek, the scent of warm blood fills its nose. More tears spill.

"It wasn't on purpose this time... I promise..."

Their gentle comforts does little to stop the creature's tears. Its heavy tongue falls against their skin - licking at the wound and coating it in another layer of saliva till the bleeding stops almost entirely. The creature's tongue moves further down their arm, rolling over the fade lines across the human's wrists it gave a similar all those years ago. Its cries outside their bedroom still ring clear as day. The human always thought the worst of this beast. They willed themselves to believe that its sorrowful whines were out of impatience towards its food teasing the waters and never taking the full plunge. They wish it had broken into their house sooner. Saves them sooner. The look that the beast gave them on that night was not one of hunger, but one of pain felt for another living being.

"I'm not going to do that to you again. I told you I wouldn't, didn't I? You're such a crybaby...."

The human was glad they were. It cried for them when no one else would. It cried for them when they didn't know how. Even now, the human need it to cry for them to feel worth something. The human would love for this creature - so long as they shed a tear for them.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere drabble #monster reader #yandere angst

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crisiscutie · 2 months

Note

Hi!! I love your work. I was wondering if you could write anything for Domestic Sephy where Darling actually gives birth to their children and it’s just a really sweet and tender moment? ❤️❤️🍼

-Anon

No problem~! Distant sequel to this fic/scenario..

Pairing: 🐈Fluffy Sephiroth/Domestic Darling🍳

Content Warning: None, besides focus on pregnancy/birth (not graphic)

Beads of sweat dripped down your forehead while your chest rose and fell, your breaths growing heavy by the moment. Sephiroth held you in a protective embrace, giving you a sweet kiss on your neck as you entered labor.

"I-I won't let you go..." His slit eyes were shut tight, as a singular tear trailed down his face. You forced a smile, attempting to reassure him as much as you were trying to reassure yourself. This wasn't your first time going through this, having experienced it four times already, but the discomfort and pain became no easier. Unlike the last times you two went to the clinic in the village, you and Sephiroth had chosen a home birth for the final part of your ten-year vow renewal.

"If this isn't a girl like you promised, you owe me big time," you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm certain of it," Sephiroth replied, attempting to force his own chuckle. While he appreciated your attempt to comfort him, his sole concern was your wellbeing. He had never enjoyed this part of your pregnancies, even with the assurance that nothing would go wrong. In his mind, something always could. When your whimpering started, he tightened his grip on you, hating to see and hear you in pain. Your midwife urged you to push more, prepared to catch your baby.

Your eldest children, especially Angelica, were watching your labor process closely and quietly. Sharing her father's love for science, Angelica in particular, was excited to witness this special moment and gain more knowledge. You gave her and the boys the opportunity to witness this moment, as long as they felt they could handle it. And thankfully, things had been going well mostly so far.

"Don't you want to see this part, Loz?" Angealica said, placing a soothing hand on her brother's shoulder. Loz had his hands covering his eyes, desperately trying to stay calm. He wanted to be supportive, like his siblings, but it seems even the star player of his school sports team had his limits.

"I can't look! You can just tell me what it looks like!" He croaked.

"...You ever seen a chocobo blink its eye?" Yazoo said to him. A piercing scream suddenly escaped your lips as you got closer to getting your child out. Even more tears trailed down Sephiroth's cheeks as he nuzzled into your neck. Oh, how much he wanted to relieve your burden of pain, or at least bear it alongside you. It's only right for him to do so as your soulmate. You screamed for so long, you lost track of time, silently praying for this agony to be over.

"Mother, Father. It's all over now!" Kadaj said, excited to see his newborn sibling now brought into the world, cradled in the midwife's arms. Both you and Sephiroth opened your eyes, beholding the crying baby before you. Once the baby was carefully attended to, the midwife swathed her in a gentle blanket and placed her into your trembling arms. Sephiroth's arms supported yours, allowing you to continue holding your pride and joy.

"Baby Lucrecia..." You whispered, holding her close to your chest for skin-to-skin. Sephiroth's hands caressed yours gently, as he rested his head on top of yours. "You were right, Sephiroth..." You murmured. A mixture of a heartfelt chuckle and a cry escaped him in response.

"I'm only glad that you're both here, my love..." He said. As you two took a moment to recover from the intense moment, Loz finally removed his hands and opened his eyes. Tears of joy streamed down his face as he saw on his newborn sibling for the first time. Meanwhile, the other three engaged in a lively debate over the perfect nickname for their little sister.

"Lulu should be her nickname," Angealica declared confidently. "because I'm the eldest and that's my decree."

"You may be our big sister, but I'm the one who leads us!" Kadaj retorted at her.

"Lucy sounds better. Much more dignified." Yazoo remarked in his usual monotonous voice.

You quickly shushed your eldest children while Sephiroth gave them a wary glance, conveying the same message to them. You two were in no rush for this beautiful moment to end so quickly...

Definitely didn't steal some of the dialogue from this clip, xD

#sephiroth #ff7 sephiroth #final fantasy 7 #ff7 #crisis cutie #sephiroth x reader #fluffy sephiroth #final fantasy x reader #reader insert #pregnant reader #female reader #x reader #fluffy angst #reader #remnants of sephiroth #kadaj ff7 #ffvii #tw: pregnancy

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cherubify · 1 month

Text

the lack of hired hands meant you had to help out at your family's restaurant. waitering and cashiering were delegated while your parents held down the fort in the kitchen. loyal customers came for your parent's homemade delicacies and stayed for you, their young, naive and beautiful daughter. and among these regulars was a man named leon kennedy, a man in his late twenties with a sharp glint in his eyes.

he was bad news, your family had warned you. this customer was amicable, sure, but his eyes indiscreetly trailed your every movement, like a hawk stalking its prey. you refused to listen to your parents– they were always an overprotective bunch, you justified their actions as excuses to stop you from knowing him. anyway, it's not like they could do much to stop you when you were the only staff available on the floor, leaving your parents in the back, out of sight and out of mind.

each time, he would draw your attention by clicking his lighter when he was about to order. and just like clockwork, you would rush over to remind him that this was a smoke-free eatery. then he'd adorn that same old smirk, feigning ignorance and pointing out how his age was finally catching up to him. which elicited chuckles as you reminded him that he was not much older than you.

but you gave him the benefit of the doubt, i mean, how could you not when he was so gentle and kind? little did you know, the cause of your long term employment in the shop was due to his selfishness. the posters that you put up in the neighbourhood for part-timers were swiftly confiscated and ripped to shreds than none other than him.

monopolising his favourite waitress was easier than he thought. all it took was a little push and you caved. the push being a photo of you naked, standing in the shower, your skin flushed against hot water streaming from the shower. your facade crumbled easily with just one push. and now you were his for the taking, and his to train.

you clutched the outline of the ceramic sink, chest heaving and back arching. the girl staring back at you in the mirror had her lips parted in an 'o' as sweat clung to her dishevelled fringe. your apron was tied around your waist, jeans pooled around your ankles as wet sounds resonated in the tiny toilet.

his large hand squeezed your hips, ripping you away from your reflection with a moan. you peered over your shoulder, where your customer, knelt, his face burried between between your ass. long, golden blonde hair tickled your rear as his nose bumped against the crack between your plump mounds. his tongue lapped shamelessly against your wrinkled entrance, and each lick racked your spine with shivers. your knees shook like a newborn lamb.

his arm wrapped around your thigh, and the blonde's padded thumb drew lazy figure eights on your twitching clit. you whimpered, standing on your tippy toes as you leaned against the sink. gripping it for dear life, you giddily raised your head and bit your lips. pain blossomed as beads of blood tricked down from your mouth to your jaw. red pitter pattered onto the damp sink, sliding down into the drain as you struggled to focus on the girl in the mirror.

on the other side of the door, the shop bustled with clamouring customers that cheered and drunk like no tomorrow. as for your parents, concern etched across their wrinkled faces whilst they scanned the sales floor for their daughter.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

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saturnville · 5 months

Text

in the dirty south.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: the people have spoken. cowboy!coriolanus is here. definitely called on my grandmother's southern roots for this so be prepared. I don't know who started cowboy!coriolanus, but all respect and credit to the individual who did. please let me know what y'all think of this!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

Outside visiters were not a common occurance the city. The town was small and everybody knew everybody. One would be a fool to think anything that occured in their lives wouldn't be common knowledge to the inhabitants of the town. She wished she had the same type of delusion.

Once every few months, the mayor of the town found it suitable to host a fair. Something to ease the growing tensions between the families and to usher in a type of fun no one had seen since the rebellions took place.

She wouldn't say she didn't enjoy the fairs, but she knew there were other ways to spend her time aside from handing out freshly baked slices of poundcake and a cup of milk, courtesy of her mother and grandmother.

"Delilah! It's time to go, baby." Her mother's voice was rough like gravel yet soothing like silk. Everyone called her comparison foolish, as they didn't understand. But, until they felt the way her words calmed their soul like a newborn being rocked by its mother, they never would.

Delilah hollered back, "Comin', mama!" She stood in front of the mirror--dingy and stained from being passed down from her great-great-grandmother, and so short that she had to stand on her toes to see her full outfit. Her hands swiped over the fabric of her dress. It was new; her grandmother spent 3 weeks making it. A corset dress as bright as the dust that left her shoulders exposed to the kisses of the sun. She smiled at her reflection and pushed her hair away from her face. She shoved her feet into her boots and ran down the stairs.

Delilah questioned if they arrived late or if everyone else arrived early in anticipation. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of black and brown with a smile on her face. Small "pardon mes" and "excuse mes" poured from her lips like water as she attempted not to knock anyone over with her basket.

She followed her mother like a lost puppy to their assigned tent. Right next to Uncle Turner's barbeque restauraunt and the bathroom. Perfect, she said to herself. Lucille dropped the basket against the wood table and began plucking out the tablecloth and napkins.

"Lilah, I'm gon' grab some pitchers of water inside Turner's. I'll be back shortly." Mama's lips turned upward with a soft smile. Delilah nodded and continued her setting up the table.

Beads of sweat gathered at her forehead and her brown skin stung under the gaze of a burning sun. God, she hoped they wouldn't be outside for 10 hours like they were the last time. She couldn't sworn she melted like an ice cream cone within an hour.

Delilah hummed a church hymn to herself and tossed the basket behind her. She plopped down on the ragged bench and crossed her legs just as her mother taught her years ago, folded her hands over her lap, and watched as people walked passed.

People watching was one of her favorite pasttimes. To her left was a young girl riding on her wooden rocking horse, squealing with glee. To her right was a group of young boys tackling each other to the ground as their mother hollered for them to quit roughhousing. Delilah giggled.

She raised her eyes and jerked backward when she saw a group of men walking past. Four of them to be exact. Three were familiar faces: Elijah, Malachi, and Ezra. The boys whom she grew up with. They used to sleep in the same bed together when their mothers worked at the restaurant late at night. But, there was another one she'd never seen before.

He was unfamiliar. There were a few white boys sprinkled here and there, but in her town, it wasn't a frequent occurance. He seemed comfortable, too, with a boyish smirk on his face as he made the boys' head fly back with glee.

She could tell his hands were strong by the way they latched around the harness that allowed him to control the beautiful horse he rode upon. She looked around and saw other women eyeing the stranger. Who was he?

The man slid off the horse and tied the harness against a stake, and followed the men as they approached her mother's tent. His eyes were curious as they examined his surroundings. Delilah brushed the loose curls away from her face and smiled. "Hi, boys."

A series of disgruntled greetings came from them as they padded around the bench to engulf Delilah in a hug. The stranger stayed in front of her, eyes narrow.

"Where's Mama?" Elijah asked. His green eyes searched for the middle-aged woman.

"She's in Turner's getting some water. Might as well help her while you're lookin' for her," Delilah suggested with a shrug. She could feel icy eyes on her. "She'll mess around and drop them tryin' to do the most. Go catch up to her."

"Delilah," said Malachi. "This is Coriolanus. We, uh, we go back. Old friends. We're gon' help, Mama, but Lilah, don't scare him off." Delilah met his eyes. "I won't."

The boys shuffled off to the restaurant to find her mother, which left Delilah in the presence of Coriolanus. It was unique. She'd never heard anything like it. It sounded prestigious, elite.

He was handsome. Messy curls underneath his hat. Strong stature covered by a thick long-sleeve shirt and vest. Her gaze dropped to his belt. Brown with a holster that held, what she assumed was, a fully loaded pistol. And his boots, worn, dirty, and scuffed, just like hers. A country boy.

"Delilah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Coriolanus." Delilah extended her hand slowly. Coriolanus turned his head to the side. Her hands were slender and her nailbeds were painted a blood red. His tongue danced over his tooth.

"No need for that, darling. Nice to meet you," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His hand was much bigger in hers. Calloused like he wrestled animals in the wilderness. Strong like they'd hold her body upright with ease. His eye contact was strong and he could feel it melting her chocolate orbs away.

When he spoke, she noticed that his accent was nowhere as thick as her own, but a southern twang was laced in his words. Almost like he'd been taught. "Where are you from?" To keep herself from getting weak in the knees, she decided to start setting out the serving ware for the cake. Coriolanus' eyes followed her every action.

"Up north," he replied shortly. "Got in a bit of a mess. Decided to come down south for a while."

Delilah hummed and pulled the lid off the poundcake. Its glaze glistened underneath the sun. Just like her. Coriolanus chuckled to himself. "Do you like it?" She looked up at him through her eyelids.

She was so beautiful. He'd seen his fair share of pretty women since being placed in a new District. But she, Lord, this Delilah was something different. She was short in stature with strong shoulders and hips that were not well hidden beneath her dress. She had a cute smile that was covered by full, cherry colored lips. And her hair, so coily and full in a bun upon her head.

Coriolanus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I like it a lot."

Delilah detected the tone of his voice and fought the urge to smile. "I'm glad that's the case."

It was difficult for Delilah to keep her eyes off Coriolanus. Where he moved, her eyes followed. When he spoke to another woman and charmed her with his smile and bright eyes, she felt a twing of jealousy hit. Then, she'd call herself foolish for even being the slightest bit possessive over a man she'd only known for five hours.

She did her best to keep herself preoccupied with the poundcake in front of her. It worked for the most part, until the bench wobbled by the weight of another. Delilah turned to her left and found Coriolanus leaned against the side. "Can I join you, pretty?"

Pretty. Delilah's body warmed as she nodded. Coriolanus swung his leg over the side of the bench and took a seat. His clothed thigh brushed against her exposed once, causing her leg to jump slightly. He noticed, but chose not to say anything.

"You enjoying the fair?" Coriolanus asked.

"Yeah. It's always a fun time. Plus the food is great, too." She raised her fork that held a piece of cake on it. "Have you tried the poundcake? My mama makes the best ever."

Coriolanus shook his head. Delilah gathered a piece on the fork and held it out with the intention for him to pluck it off, but she was shocked when his full lips wrapped around the edge of the fork. His eyes were trained on hers. A gasp fell from her lips.

He hummed softly. "Delicious." He prepared to spur her on further, finding amusement in her disheveled state, but was called back by Elijah. "I'm comin'!. Save some for me later, darlin'. I'll see you later, alright?"

Delilah nodded and bit her lip. "Alright."

He threw her a wink and walked away. He was far from done with her.

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sturnioloshacker · 5 months

Text

in labour - a vinnie hacker short

a/n: requested by anon; lowercase intended. i have no idea what it’s like to be pregnant or how labour works but i hope this is something along the lines of it!

summary: he may be stressed, but vinnie comforts you while you’re pushing out your little miracle

the air thickened with anticipation as nurses and midwifes surrounded you as the time came closer to pushing out your little miracle. vinnie stood by your side, tightly holding your hand as you cried in agony, the pain of the contractions suddenly getting all too much for you to handle. little beads of sweat lined vinnie’s forehead, the tense moment becoming real. with each push, your face contorted in pain and your lips contorted into all different shapes to scream and cry. vinnie was determined to be a pillar of strength, even though he himself is stressing out of his mind.

“you’re doing great, sweetheart. you’ve got this. i love you so much.”

“keep going, you’re so close. just a bit more and we’ll finally meet our sweet angel.”

you grabbed his hand even tighter as your breathing became ragged. vinnie fought the urge to look away, his own anxiety taking over. the beads of sweat slowly started falling down his forehead, the tension in the room getting heavier with every passing second. as the pushing became harder and more painful, vinnie took a deep breath and locked eyes with you, trying to channel all of his love and support.

“you’re doing so well, love. you’re so brave. i know it hurts but it will be over before you know it. i know that it’s also scary that we’re going to be with child soon but we’re in this together. We’ve got each other. i love you and i can’t wait to raise our little girl together.”

you managed a weak smile between pushes, finding peace in his words. the room echoed with the rhythmic beeping of the monitors, punctuated by her determined efforts. vinnie, though feeling the weight of the moment, kept his focus on her.

“you're almost there, just a few more pushes." his voice cracked with emotion, but he maintained his composure.

in the final moments, the screams became whimpers as the newborn’s cries filled the room. vinnie’s legs wobbled as he made his way to the nearest chair. falling and sinking into it, he put his hands over his face, the emotions getting the better of him. the nurse placed your baby into your arms, your whimpers soon turning into tears of joy and happiness as you softly graze your fingertips over your little girl’s face. vinnie brings his wobbly self to you as he watches over his two beautiful girls, marvelling at the new chapter you both have just begun.

“just so you know, we’re sharing her. she’s my mummy too, don’t you forget it.”

#vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker fanfic #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker fluff #vinnie hacker x reader

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bonny-kookoo · 10 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐄𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Pull Me Closer

Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Jungkook, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, human?Reader, Fluff, Courting, MC kinda wary of kook at first, but he's cute give him a chance pls

Additional Chapter Warnings: tensioooon, the hunt is near, some steamy action that made me hit my desk

Length: short, tumblr hates long evocation updates for some reason

A/N: There is no taglist. I continue to force you to eat the dragon!kook meal, so you better finish your plate or there wont be any dessert. Also there is no taglist.

-> Masterlist

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It's hot this year.

You're usually not this bold with your choice of clothing, but the heat pretty much forces you to dress a bit more revealing as to not overheat- simply summer dress and underwear already feeling as if it's too much under the blazing sun. It makes most dragonkins laze around and bathe in the warmth of the giant star up in the sky, soaking up the sunlight as if they're some cold-blooded lizard recharging their energy and upping their body temperature.

It's funny how some instincts never leave, even if your body isn't the same anymore.

According to legends and some research, dragonkin had been, at some point, actual dragons- their blood slowly becoming less and less pure as they began to fall in love with the human kind. Their bodies changed, becoming less distinguishable from one another, as nowadays, only little hints remain in their visual appearance. It's honestly best seen in Jungkook, as you watch him push his hair back out of his eyes, beads of sweat rolling down the side of his face. He's tall, muscular but not too much so, with sharp eyes and traditional ink underneath the skin of his arm. It's not too different from a regular human- it's more so the way he carries himself, the way his instincts seem to lead him.

And yes- he's also got that very distinctive spot on the back of his neck- similar to you, and all of the other dragonkin around.

It's called a dragon's burn- a story as old as time saying that it's the soul of the last living dragon-mother burning her mark into the skin of a newborn, so she can still find her children amongst the humans. And while there's no actual proof or rather explanation from science as to why this mark appears or how it forms, its also said to determine one's personality and future, depending on it's shape, size, and position.

You've got your eyes closed as you soak up the sun as well now- dragonkin practically immune to sunburns, which is another thing that's still being researched. You're softly swinging from side to side in the hammock, one leg dangling out when you notice steps coming closer. By now, you're not worried about it anymore- it can really only be one person seeking you out.

He's not talked to you since you'd offered him the bracelet- you wonder if he still wears it.

There's a hand around your ankle, and your eyes open at that as you watch him, his gaze on you. He's looking at you a little differently today- not so bold anymore, not as fierce as usual. There's a certain softness to his eyes that you've not seen before- but you feel oddly comforted by it, as his fingers run over the soft skin of your leg. It's now that you notice the bracelet still hanging around his wrist, securely tied as if he didn't even think about how to open that knot ever again.

Maybe because he really doesn't intend to do so.

"You make me want to join you." He chuckles, watching as you stretch your arms above your head before relaxing again.

"I doubt the hammock can hold both of our weights." You respond, and he grins.

"If Yoongi and his mate can have sex on this thing, I'm sure it can handle us both simply cuddling on it." he comments, and at that you shoot upright into a sitting position.

"On this thing?!" you ask, scandalized, and he can't help but laugh openly about your face full of shock. It's a nice laugh- it's free, open, honest. You like it.

"I don't think it was this specific one." He reassures. "Or maybe. They probably cleaned it though, don't worry." He says, before he holds onto it, making you lean back as to not be forced too close to him.

"I- did not agree to the cuddling part though.." You stammer as he climbs in without really asking any further, moving around and boldly using his strength to push and move you into a comfortable position in his arms- and despite your vocal protest, you can't help but scoot a little bit closer than he'd placed you, leaning halfway on his body as he chuckles.

"Well it sure doesn't feel like you're too upset over it though." He offers, and you're quiet- because you're not sure what to say. It takes a moment or two before you point towards the bracelet around his wrist- his hand on his chest close to you as you tap one of the wooden beads.

"M' sorry about that one, by the way." You mumble disappointed.

"Why?" He asks, genuine surprise in his voice. "Did you not want to give it to me?" He worries, but you shake your head.

"No, I wanted to.. you know, give you something." You shrug. "But this thing sucks. It looks awful." You say, and his hand instead reaches out to hold yours now, thumb running over the back of your palm.

"It's made by you." He offers. "You've put effort into it, and I appreciate that." He tells you, and you shrug.

"You can be honest." You say. "It looks-"

"Like a gift given to me by my future mate." He says, and at that you freeze. It's the first time he openly calls you a future mate- even though he's not given you anything in return yet. "Let's not dwell on it for now, okay?" He asks, and you shrug. "Let's just exist for a moment. I just want to hold you." He says, and at that, you nod, before you lean in closer.

Soaking up both the sun- and the warmth of his skin and body next to yours.

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The first preparations for the festivities are in full force, but tonight, things are still calm and easy.

Some are still hammering together the stages and booths, nails hit into wood in a steady rhythm, while others have gone to bed early. You yourself are still sitting outside- air cool now, refreshing as some insects chirp somewhere in the distance.

In a way, you dread the next two days. Because it'll be the last, and then you'll be back in the loud, bustling city full of noise and stress.

Someone sits next to you on the edge of the stage, a sigh escaping him as he looks at what you're watching. "It's nice like this." He comments, nodding to himself. You nod as well.

"I don't want to go home yet." You mumble almost more to yourself than anyone else- but he still hears you.

"You don't have to- not yet." He tries to lift your mood. It works only a little. "Dont let the thoughts of what's to come ruin what you've got right now. That's what my mom always says." He playfully shoves his shoulder against yours. "But- that's not actually why I wanted to see you." He suddenly says, jumping down from the edge of the stage, pulling something from the pocket of his pants. It jungles distinctively- a high sound indicating a small bell of some sorts, and his hands are almost hesitant as his fingers wrap around your bare ankle.

"Dont think I've forgotten.." he starts, and you can't help the goosebumps that erupt from the way his hands pull you closer by your leg. "...or that I have chosen someone else.." he tells you, gaze sharp and fierce again as he watches your every reaction from his position. He reveals the delicate, silver anklet that he's got, wrapping it around before he uses a small pair of pliers to bend close one of the chain links.

There's no way for you to take it off now without breaking it. A silent offering that also showes his urge to make sure you know that his decisions are final. That he stands by this gesture, by his words, his choice.

And he's choosing you.

"Thats cheating." You tease. "You're making the hunt easy on yourself." You jab at him jokingly. "Scared you won't catch me without the help or a bell around my leg?" You ask, tilting your head innocently while he leans down to kiss the side of your knee- and action that makes your breath hitch a little, something that doesn't go unnoticed as the corners of his lips lift.

"Oh, that bell isn't for me." He chuckles, hands at the very edge of the hem of your dress, never daring to go any higher. "Its so everyone else knows to stay away from you, because you'll be mine." He says.

"Bold." You just tell him, as he helps you down from the edge of the stage and into his arms, before he cages you in with your back against the wooden front of the structure, arms on either side of you.

"How could I not be?" He wonders, looking down at you, eyes jumping from your lips to your eyes. "I've got to be, considering all the others who lick their lips after you."

You scoff. He tilts his head for a second in confusion.

"You don't believe me?" He asks, and you shrug, looking away- but he doesn't have it, pulls your face back with his hand on your chin- before said hand moves to hold your cheek instead, an awfully tender gesture from the otherwise rather rough dragonkin. "You've got no idea how much you're desired."

"I'm not, really." You deny, but he instead leans in to nose at your neck, breathing in your scent. "Except, maybe by you." You try and joke, but you can instead feel his grin against your neck as he places an almost teasing kiss close to your dragon's-burn on the back of your neck.

"That you are." He affirms. "I desire you a lot. Not just.. physically though." He explains.

"Huh?" You stupidly sigh, unable to think straight under his ministrations.

"I desire all of you." He tries to explain. "I want to hear what worries you, what you think of, what you believe you can't tell anyone else. I want to know what makes you happy, what gets you excited, what makes you sad." He rambles, leaning his head on your shoulder now, lips tenderly kissing the tip of it. "I don't just want your body." He says. "I want you."

"Jungkook-" you sigh, and he can't help but laugh boyishly to himself.

"I love the way you say my name." He chuckles. "I love that you say my name." He clarifies, and you can't help but smile as well now, butterflies no longer being ignored now as they flutter in your heart at his clear display of affection.

You've never been desired like that. Wanted. Almost needed, in a way.

"Tomorrow." He reminds you, leaning away from you again. "Tomorrow, you'll be mine." He tells you.

"I won't make it easy." You threaten playfully, and he grins.

"And I wouldn't want you to, either." He responds before you both part ways-

Barely sleeping as the excitement sets in.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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