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ballimeracy · 4 months
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Choso drabble!
Choso busting in his boxers thinking about you!
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Choso had always been obsessed with you one way or another. He always admired you from a safe distance, hearts practically in his eyes whenever you were around him. This sort of obsession only grew when Yuji had gotten Choso a phone and helped set up some social media accounts for Choso to keep in contact with various people, including you. He would spend literal hours just sitting in his bed late at night admiring your photos you've posted of yourself and your friends. He always thought you were gorgeous, down from your hair to your soft dewy skin. 
It was one of those nights. Choso had just got done hanging out with you, Yuji, and a few of your other mutual friends. He thought you looked absolutely gorgeous today, with an outfit that showed off your curves.Seeing so much of your skin sparked something inside of him. Whenever you were close enough to nudge his arm, or whenever he got a strong whiff of your perfume, he felt this intense warmth in his tummy and a warmth in his face. 
He was absolutely absorbed in your photos, eyes glued to his phone screen as he admired the photos you took tonight. There was one that had his breath catching in his throat, that familiar warmth dropping down into his tummy once again. It was a photo of you with a big smile, leaning forward to the camera with a drink in hand with your arm slung over Choso’s shoulder. From the photo, he could get a good view of your tits, full and squeezed tight in your shirt. It brought a heat to his cheeks, feeling his breath stutter slightly.
He remembered when that photo was taken, feeling as if he was going to die with the contact your arm made around his neck. He remembered how soft your skin felt, how good you smelt, and how hypnotic your voice sounded. It was making his brain go a mile a minute, not realizing the intense pressure straining against the front of his boxers. He shifted slightly as he stared at his phone, flinching slightly when he felt his cock being rubbed slightly thanks to the friction of his boxers. 
As he continued to stare, admiring the various photos you had taken of the outing, his hand slowly slipped down to his pelvis, letting out a shaky breath when he felt the warmth of his hand cup over the hot and heavy bulge in his underwear. It made him whimper, biting his lips as his hips bucked up slightly. His mind couldn’t help but wander to what it would be like if you were the one cupping him instead of himself.
He could imagine your sweet voice, encouraging him and whispering loving words in his ear about how good of a boy he was and how well he was doing. The tips of his ears were burning, breathing becoming labored as he mindlessly palmed at himself. He imagined your glossy lips and your beautiful smile, how amazing you would look with your lips wrapped around his dick. A whimper escaped his throat as he imagined forcing his length into your throat, how tears would well in your eyes and how you would grip the meat of his thighs. 
He could hear his heart in his ears as he scrolled through your social media, hand speeding up as he continued to palm himself gingerly and flinching with sensitivity. His mind then drifted to those skirts you would wear that would show the curve of your ass perfectly and when you would bend down he could catch a glimpse of the fat lips of your clothed cunt. He’s never seen one before, but he imagined yours would look just as beautiful as you. From research he has done about sex, he thought about how pretty you would look being on top of him and how tight and warm your insides would be. You would definitely make the cutest noises and would praise him to high heaven. A subtle groan escaped from him, his eyes fluttering closed as he got lost in his fantasy.
He imagined what you would look like when you came, all high and whiney, telling Choso he did a good job. He could hear you now, begging for him to come inside. His face exploded with warmth, breath hitching as he felt his hips buck up into his hand. He felt a coil in his belly, whimpering and biting his lip as a warm sticky substance bloomed underneath his hand and in his boxers. It made his hips twitch and buck up, making him whine at the feeling of his cock pulsing underneath his large hand.
When he finally calmed down, he grimaced a little at the feeling of his cum in his boxers, nose scrunching up as he slowly sat up in bed. He definitely would have to shower. Sparing one last look at your photos, he felt a little tinge of guilt in his stomach causing him to frown. Would you think he was disgusting? He would definitely have to talk to you about these weird feelings he was experiencing. Choso let out a soft huff, standing up and shuffling out of his room to go take a shower.
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Sorry I have been MIA for the past few weeks! College exams are absolutely kicking my butt! (not necessarily exams, just art projects LOL). I have also been oh so stressed due to the work environment I'm in currently, but over the break I have I will be sure to write loads more! I have been obsessing over Choso so be prepared hehe >:3C
Also! My requests are still open if you would like anything written specifically for a character!
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all-or-nothing-baby · 2 years
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sometimes, it dawns on me just how incredibly happy i am that fanfic exists as a medium. like, the amount of experiences had—excitement and thrills and tears and joy, and more, that writers of fic can give to so, so many people—is immeasurable; it's wonderful.
and just... what an amazing thought, you know? in a world where we are all struggling to get by, to recognise this beautiful thing we've created? knowing that we're all sharing in taking some sort of pleasure or lesson or comfort etc from reading and/or writing it?
i think that's really, really special.
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sister-juniper · 6 months
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the Tumblr algorithm be like:
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peetaslefttoe · 1 year
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peeta smut where he's like OBSESSED with the readers boobs? (ur writing is really good btw keep it up 🫶🏽🫶🏽)
warnings: smutty 🤭 slight sub dom dynamic
summary: request above
author’s notes: ahhh thank you smmm you’re so sweet 🫶 i love this idea i hope i did it some justice 🫣
Masterlist pinned xx
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You sat at the dinner table with Haymitch, Peeta and Effie. You ate quietly, listening to Haymitch’s winding stories unfold. You noticed Peeta’s eyes flicking down to your cleavage every so often. You looked at him, making eye contact before smirking when he realized you’d caught on. He grew increasingly restless, shuffling in his seat and adjusting his pants. Finally you pushed back your chair and stood.
“Thank you for dinner, we should probably get some rest,” Haymitch nodded at you before turning back to Effie and continuing his story.
You walked back to your room, Peeta trailing behind. You layed onto your bed and he flopped down beside you with a sigh. You rolled and straddled his laying form.
“Do you like my dress?” you asked, pushing your boobs together slightly. He gasped quietly before running his hands up your waist.
“Y-yes,” he breathed.
“Really? I could see you looking at dinner…” you trailed off, looking down at him. You felt him grow beneath you.
“Please, I need them, I need you,” he whined, pawing at the zipper on your dress.
“That desperate?” you teased, slowly unzipping your gown. He nodded furiously, rutting up into you in search of contact. You lifted your dress over your head and almost immediately Peeta was cupping your exposed boobs. He squeezed them gently, placing kisses along your collarbone. He rolled you onto your back and leant down to suck on your nipples while his hands stroked your soft skin.
“Please, let me fuck you,” he whimpered against your chest, still grinding on you. You smiled down at his puppy eyes and nodded. You lifted your hips as he pulled down your panties freeing his hard cock from his suit trousers. He lined up with your wet entrance.
“Fuckkk just like that,” you moaned throwing your head back as his thick length stretched you.
“Please, needa suck,” Peeta whimpered, barely able to string together a sentence. You ran a hand through his hair pulling his head down to your tits. He whined at your touch and latched onto your nipple. One hand held you firmly as he continued to stroke you deeply, the other squeezed your boob.
“Fuck I love your tits,” he said breathily between sucks. You grew wetter at his words, rutting up to meet his thrusts.
“Peeta, I’m gonna-,” you moaned, tension building in your stomach. He rammed into your harder, nibbling at your nipple softly. His biting drove you crazy, you shook under his weight, his dick thrusting into your wet, sore hole. Your walls fluttered around his cock, he brought his other hand up and pushed your tits together, shoving his face between them and letting out a whine. He emptied his seed deep into you, wildly thrusting as he tried to steady himself.
You lay beside Peeta in the darkness, the blanket soft and warm around you both. He held your waist tightly, your boobs covered in lovebites. You ran your fingers through his blonde hair, kissing him softly.
“Goodnight Peeta,” you whispered into the night.
“Goodnight beautiful girl,” he said softly, planting a passionate kiss to your collar and then lower.
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shortcake!
Genre/Tropes: Height differences (short reader.)
Summary: for this short, i think it'd be funny if the reader needed to get something from a high shelf and climbed up to get it. his reaction to that can be whatever, it'd be funny if he scolded the reader for not going to him cause he's such a big, tall eel and more safe than stacked stools
Author's Comments: Floyd has definitely balanced on at least ten stools for fun. His record is ten. He's tried to add more and has fallen over.
~~~~~
Floyd was used to doing things other people disapproved of. He was used to being on the receiving end of scolding and accusatory expressions that he found rather boring. You seemed to be his only refuge, his tiny little Shrimpy that understood how he operated. You were funny and adorable, but sometimes you even gave Floyd a run for his chaotically earned money.
“Shrimpyyy, what are you doing on the counter?” he huffed, wrapping his hands around your waist and taking you down with ease, “It’s dangerous up there. You wouldn’t want to slip and hit your head, now would you?”
“Floyd, I was trying to get something! Jade said he needed flour for his cream of mushroom soup so I went to get it for him.” you squirmed, pouting up at him when he didn’t set you on the ground.
He looked up at the cabinets as you dangled in the air, humming thoughtfully.
“Sneaky Jade.” he giggled, pulling you into his chest with too little effort, “Shrimpy, come get me next time, okay? Jade must have put the flour up high to mess with you.”
“Of course he did.” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your legs around his waist, “And here I was looking forward to the octopus dish he promised me.”
“Aww, a little Shrimpy like you wants to eat an octopus?” he laughed, easily grabbing the flour for you, “You’re so devious for such a tiny little thing!”
“I wasn’t gonna eat it in front of Azul! I’m not like you guys!” you huffed, jabbing him in the ribs, “But thank you for grabbing me the flour. I appreciate it.”
“Next time you need something, come get me. I’ll get it for you! You have a big strong eel right here, Shrimpy.” Floyd smiled, revealing his menacing sharp teeth.
“Uh huh. I don’t get to climb stools but you do.” you faked a dramatic sigh before pressing a grateful kiss to his cheek, “Because that’s fair.”
“Shrimpyyyy, you don’t understand. You can climb on me.” he giggled, setting you on the counter so he could pinch your cheeks, “I’m wayyyy more fun than some stools! I can sway and jump and swing you around!”
“Floyd...how is that any more safe than stacking stools on top of one another?” you laughed, staring up at your delighted boyfriend lovingly.
“It’s safe because it’s me. Duh.” he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’d never let you fall. Ya think wood is gonna hold you better than me?”
“No, of course not.” you sighed, wrapping your arms around his middle, “I should really get back to Jade now, though.”
“Awww, you’re gonna leave?” he huffed, throwing his arms around you and nuzzling the top of your head affectionately, “But I don’t want you to.”
“Floyd, I pinky promise I’ll hang out with you after I give Jade this flour.” you said, holding out your pinky as you pulled away.
“Fine.” he grumbled, hooking his pinky with yours.
You cupped his cheeks and pulled him forward, giving him a gentle forehead kiss before you hopped off the counter.
“I’ll be right back.” you smiled up at him, clutching the flour to your chest.
“You better be.” Floyd pouted, waving his pinky in the air, “You promised.”
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angelteyam · 1 year
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Water Girl (n.s.)
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(gif not mine)
Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Metkayina!Reader
Word Count: 10,612
Summary: You were...“different”. You had always been different. Yet something shifts when the Sully family arrives, literally crash landing into your village. No one had ever noticed you, and yet, for whatever reason, the eldest Sully boy suddenly can’t seem to get you out of his mind. 
Warnings: major character deaded, floof, angst, moar floof, some kissy and touchy (nothin weird)
A/N: this is….a beast. also do not judge me for briefly mentioning neteyam’s unalivement, I literally do not have it in me to actually write it out. 
- -
“Hush, payíva. Listen to the ocean.”
Payíva. Drop of water.
The first of many names your mother gave you. Granted, she had many names of her own that you’d bestowed upon her too when you learned to speak: mama, sa’nu, mom, mommy. It seemed only natural for her to give you a few of your own, but a couple stuck out as your favorites. 
Payíva, for when you were young, and inconsolable from having skipped a sleep, and refusing to nurse due to the pain of your budding canines piercing through gum. 
Stubborn. As always.
Kxali was overtired too, and having failed every attempt she knew to mother you, and Ronal’s treatments falling on deaf ears, your mother wrapped you tightly against her bosom using one of your father’s shawls, and walked with you along the shoreline. 
Eywa, you were your father’s child. 
Elpawe was with Tonowari on a warrior’s hunt past the reef. The trip was supposed to last a week, but by day three, you had dissolved from your father’s absence. And though neither you nor your mother knew this, Elpawe felt the distance between you was as wide as the chasm of Eywa’s great ocean. 
You were too young to understand that your father, Tonowari’s right hand, would always come back. He had to come back - not just for his mate, but for you. From the day you were born you had him wrapped around your tiny fingers, and as much as your mother’s presence could comfort you, his aura was your salve.
So Kxali did what she could as a final plea, and used a leather belt to secure a warm, deep blue shawl around her hips, before tying it around her shoulders and tucking you into the fabric. Even she could scent your father in the fabric’s weave, and as she tucked you in against her chest, your knees and arms against her as if still in the womb, your howling cries that had lasted for days on end slowed to a dull whimper. 
This whimper continued still, as Kxali scaled a small boulder at the water’s edge to rest with you, her toes dipping into the waves that swirled and tangled around the rock as they made their way to the sandy beach nearby. She settled back against the rock, one hand beneath you for support, and the other came to rest against your head in soothing, graceful strokes. 
Another dull whimper from your small, plump lips. 
“Hush, payíva. Listen to the ocean.”
Kxali let herself breathe as if she was beneath the water. Belly full of air, and heart beating in a rhythm that matched the waves lapping against the shore. A large wave crashed against the rock beneath you, and you whimpered again. 
“Hush, my droplet. The waves are talking to you. The water is with you, just like mama.”
Another wave lapped against the rock, and as if it had heard your mother, it rolled against the shore in a smooth, slow motion, whisking away and leaving a smattering of beautiful shells behind. 
Hush, small one. 
The ocean seemed to speak, and as another wave came passing by, a few droplets of salty water landed against your forehead and trickled down to rest on the perfectly round tip of your nose. 
And just like that, the wrinkles in your forehead disappeared, the tension melted from your eyelids, and your lips parted. A barely audible sigh escaped you, and your mother smiled above you as you began to softly snore.
Your father’s child, indeed. 
As you grew older, the names your mother used for you did too. Most of the time you and your father shared the same one. 
Skxawng.
Although reserved for you when you were behaving particularly like him - meaning, particularly stubborn - for your father, this meant he had missed something important. 
Sometimes he had missed your orbits for hunting trips. This you could understand, for when Tonowari called, your father answered. He had to answer. Your mother wasn’t always so understanding, but these happenings could be forgiven for duty. 
Most of the time however, and as most Na’vi males do, your father would blow right past something even though it was staring him right between the eyes. He couldn’t see a tulkun even if it smacked him across the face with a fin some days. 
A forgotten chore, or a broken spear. Or, as was usually the case, returning from a tussle with another group of males, laughing and bantering as though it had never happened, and completely covered in scrapes and bruises. 
Kxali would patch him up, of course, but if there was one thing your little mind knew, it was that you did not like to see your father hurt. Even the smallest scrape on his cheek would send you into a fit, and you’d worm your way into your mother’s grasp, dipping your hands into the healing sap so you could help your sempu feel better. 
Through eyes full of tears, you’d rub your tiny fingers on the offending mark on your father’s skin - not fully grasping that rubbing the sap in harder would not in fact make the injury disappear. Elpawe would smile down at you, even through gritted teeth, and once done, you’d pull away to assess your work.
“Ma sempu all better?” You’d squeak, and he’d smile. 
“All better, little one.” He’d sigh, and he’d pull you in tightly to his chest, grinning at your mother behind you. 
And every time, Kxali would lightly smack him on the head. 
“You skxawng. You know how she gets.”
And as you grew older still, your mother and father took to calling you the same thing.
Paysmung. Water carrier. 
You may have been Metkayina, but something about your natural abilities in the water and with the ocean’s many creatures had even Ronal scratching her head. Your mother barely had to teach you a basic breath hold before you were swimming off like a fish, running your hands along an ilu’s belly as you swam beneath her. 
You were the one who gave Tsireya her first breathing lessons. You were the one who discovered which shells looked the prettiest in bracelets, and which looked the best against the pitch black of hair. You were the one who started testing your breathing ability by fetching shells from the ocean floor. 
Nothing entirely marvelous, true enough, but when you emerged from the ocean with piles of massive shells in your arms that no one had seen before, the waves clinging to your ankles as if they didn’t want to say goodbye, and no ilu in sight for that matter, you had the entire clan stumped. 
Gradually, though, as you approached your rite with no desire to take after your father’s path of warrior or your mother’s path as healer, and as you continued to spend your days beneath the ocean’s blanket of safety with no interest in a mate, the clan and all her people started to forget about you. 
Not Mama and Papa, of course. But neither of them particularly wanted you to follow in their footsteps. You were different. Softer, and quieter as you had grown with age. Sometimes you could fade into the water as if you were made of the ocean itself. And when you emerged, leaving behind small tokens for your parents that now covered every surface of your marui from floor to ceiling, hung across nets and dangling from ropes that made them twinkle like stars, well…neither of your parents was intent on discouraging you. 
Elpawe held sway, too. Some sort of power in convincing Tonowari to let you be. You did not have the warrior’s spirit, or the spirit of a healer like your mother. And one thing your father was very certain of was that he did not want his little payíva to be forced into choosing a fate you would not readily choose on your own. 
He even managed to convince Tonowari that you weren’t entirely useless. He did teach you how to fight, so you could defend yourself if you ever truly needed to. And your mother taught you to heal basic scrapes and mend small cuts, and to tend to the elderly and the sick. Where Ronal went, your mother followed, and you followed behind when you were needed. And when Tonowari watched you emerge from the water with a net full of fish you’d guided in as if you were their commander - well, that was a done deal.
And thus, you were left alone. 
Left alone as your mother and father grew in their duties. Left alone with no siblings to keep you company, and with the village’s children skeptical of you from the beginning, you had no friends besides those who lived beneath the ocean. Left alone to bond with your own spirit sibling, your very own tulkun, who would take you swimming father and deeper into the blue water than you’d ever gone before. 
Left alone with no mate, and no prospects who interested you, either. 
Invisible. 
That is, until the Sully family arrived. 
You were on the outskirts of the village, hopping along a ring of rocks that stuck out from the ocean during low tide, when a group of five ikran flew overhead, circling a sandbar at the village’s edge. They landed in a flurry of sand, hands raised and unarmed. 
And far too blue.  
The clan emerged in droves from their marui, and rode in from the waves at every angle on ilu and skimwings in a rainbow of colors, gathering around the new arrivals like a school of fish. You watched Tonowari and your father approach from the water, dismounting their skimwings and moving towards the strangers. Your mother and Ronal came from the back of the village, winding their way through the crowd. 
You sighed, having a feeling you’d probably be needed, and leapt into the ocean, allowing a swell to carry you towards the shore. You popped up next to Tsireya as she broke the water’s surface on her ilu, allowing yourself to catch your breath.
“What’s going on?” You wondered. 
Tsireya shrugged and rolled into the water, strolling up through the shallows to meet Ao’nung and Roxto. 
You watched as she and the smaller of the two sons met eyes, and as she tilted her head down to giggle. 
Gross. 
Of course Tsireya would immediately peak the newcomer’s interest. Why shouldn’t she? You may have been obtuse at the best of times, but you weren’t blind. Tsireya was one of the more beautiful girls in the village, and from the way the younger Sully looked at her, he wasn’t blind either. 
You rolled your eyes and plopped down to your knees, wiggling them into the wet sand of the shallow water. The water reached your chest, allowing you to tilt your head and watch Jake Sully’s plea for uturu. As Tonowari looked to your father and mother standing behind him. As his eyes met Ronal’s, and they shared a knowing glance, communicating in a way only mates could without words, before granting Jake Sully’s request.
You could see your mother’s eyes scanning the crowd and the water below, before they found you with a knowing smile. 
You smiled in return, and tilted your head in a silent gesture. You were going back out into the water. Your mother nodded, and signed to you. 
Go. Be back before eclipse. 
You nodded and pushed from the sand, legs extended as you floated onto your back, allowing your belly to fill with air before rolling over and diving below the surface, angling back to the spot from whence you came. 
What you hadn’t noticed was the older Sully boy watching you the entire time. 
After he’d shoved Lo’ak gently with his shoulder when the younger boy couldn’t peel his gaze from Tsireya’s, Neteyam’s eyes had scanned the crowd. Half to survey the surroundings and half out of an inherent protectiveness, while the rest of the clan had come to the shore, you had remained in the water, staring at his father with nothing more than blinking curiosity. 
He could barely see you in between the throng of people. But something in the tilt of your head, in the doe-eyed innocence of your gaze, and the way the ocean clung to you like a second skin had him very, very curious. 
When you pushed from the shore and floated on your back, rolling over and swimming away as if you were a fish instead of Na’vi, he had to chuckle. 
You hadn’t even noticed him noticing you. After all, no one except your parents up to this point had out of anything other than animosity, or because you were “different”, and not in a good way. While some - Tonowari and Tsireya, like your father - were accepting of those different from them, much of the clan felt the opposite. And as a result, the clan preferred not to notice you.
But you noticed them. 
You noticed everything. The glow of a new mother’s skin. A breaking fever. A warrior’s wound when it wouldn’t heal. Things you could appreciate in silence, small things more often than not. Secrets you could share with the water. 
You preferred the ocean as your friend anyway. 
But this - these new arrivals, this was a big thing. Several 9-foot tall things. And at first, Jake Sully, or rather Toruk Makto, commanded all of your attention. He mystified you. A walking legend. You knew his story, but seeing him in person was a whole different experience. 
He may have been a legendary war hero, but he and his family knew nothing about the way of water. More than that, the oldest of his children looked to be about your age. 
They were worth watching.
So when you watched their first diving lesson from afar, lounging on a large ocean rock, and when their first breathing lesson went less than spectacular, you too had to press the back of your hand to your lips to keep from laughing. 
You may have been a skxawng, but these children reached a whole new level. 
One of them - the girl, Kiri, seemed a lot like you. 
She explored the same spots you did, ran her fingertips along the bellies of the rays just like you did, and plucked shells from the ocean floor as if she’d been doing it all her life. 
So one afternoon, as you watched her scan the ocean floor, you unearthed an iridescent purple shell from the sand and swam over to her, pressing it to her palm with a smile. She smiled in return, and you nodded, swimming away.
From that moment on, Kiri was a kindred spirit. 
You were never far apart, though you tended to drift away when a particularly colorful fish caught your eye. Call it a short attention span. But usually, you never swam too far, keeping her within your eye line.
You had enough shells as it was already. So if you found any more, you’d gather them for her, leaving her little piles on the beach as she sat in the shallows. Back and forth, almost like a game, if only so you could discover what her favorite color was.  You were never gone more than a few minutes before you’d return to her side and lay in the sand together, letting the sun soak into your skin and warm the chill of the water. 
You didn’t even really need to speak. Kiri understood your facial expressions more than words, particularly in the way you’d roll your eyes, so you’d just sit in comfortable silence together, building small structures out of sand and decorating them with the shells you found. Sometimes, little Tuk would join you, staying strictly to the shallower waters or the beach, allowing you to bring her tokens of appreciation as well. Tuk wasn’t picky - she didn’t have a favorite color.  She liked everything you brought her, big and small. 
It was a strange sort of comfort, having friends who didn’t even really need you to speak. You could just exist, even in silence, and it wasn’t uncomfortable. While the ocean may have been your friend thus far, it was nice to have friends of your own species. 
And the more time you spent with Kiri and little Tuk, the more Neteyam noticed you. 
The more he noticed the ease with which you hopped from boulder to boulder before diving into the water. The more he noticed the little treasures you’d find for Kiri and Tuk displayed in his family’s mauri. He started to wonder where they were coming from, and how they’d found so many. And then he started to notice that wherever Kiri was, you were usually within diving range. He started to notice the piles of treasures you’d leave her and Tuk, either on the shore or on the edge of their marui. Now, they grew to necklaces and bracelets, woven from their favorite treasures you’d found. A new braid that seemed to pop against their dark hair, a vibrant, colorful shell at its end. 
You were never far away from his sisters, and as he was never very far away from them either, Neteyam became the very first to take notice of you. 
To be fair, no female had peaked his interest yet either. He was far too busy staying attached at the hip to his baby brother until now. With Tsireya taking Lo’ak under her wing, Neteyam had the free time he’d never had before to take in the ocean around him. 
And where there was ocean, you were usually swimming within its waters. 
This time was valuable to Neteyam, and usually short lived. Stolen moments like the movement of the waves, there one minute and gone the next. Of course, as the eldest sibling, he still had to keep a reasonable eye on his younger brother and sisters. But with Jake learning the Metkayina’s ways with Tonowari and your father, Lo’ak under regular supervision by someone other than himself, and Kiri and Tuk always within the reef’s circle when they weren’t with Neytiri, Neteyam had the chance to take a breath. 
In the same way Tsireya had caught Lo’ak’s eyes, you had captured Neteyam’s attention. 
He started to learn your ways more than the Metkayina ways he was meant to be studying. He learned the boulders you favored when they appeared during low tide, and those you favored during eclipse. He learned your favorite paths to swim, and which you hadn’t explored yet. 
And boy, it made him laugh when he’d trail you to one of said favorite spots, only for you to dive into the water without even blinking, not realizing he’d been following you. 
Selective hearing, maybe, or pure tunnel vision, you usually only noticed the things you were interested in, or the things that were directly in your eyesight. Neteyam was worth noticing, of course, you just hadn’t laid eyes on him yet up close, and you hadn’t yet realized the irony of the one person you were destined for being the one thing you had failed to notice. 
Like two moons passing. Two arrows firing towards the same target. Now, Neteyam was just holding his breath, waiting for the two of you to collide. 
If you would ever open your skxawng eyes and notice him, for Eywa’s sake. 
It took you a solid week to finally realize he existed. And the only way he managed to accomplish this was waiting for you to take your spot on a boulder during a particularly sunny afternoon. He dove in from the shoreline, scanning the ocean floor for something he knew would peak your interest, and found a smooth, polished sea stone that glistened like crystal. If it wasn’t for you, he would’ve kept it. 
He’d grabbed it from the sand, and rubbed it clean with a few swipes of his fingers. It was the size of his palm and oval shaped, with no imperfections. When he turned it in his hand, it seemed to sparkle, reflecting the colors of the ocean and the whiteness of the sand. When he passed it by his face, he could see the yellow of his eyes reflected on its surface. Special, and perfect, and new, it was strange the way the stone reminded him of you. 
He was positive you hadn’t found something like this yet. 
He pushed from the floor with his feet, aiming straight for the boulder he could see you sitting on, your feet dipped in the water beneath you. Slowly, he eased to the surface and emerged from the water. 
Your eyes flicked to him, narrowing when you noticed who it was. A low hiss left your lips, but Neteyam just…smiled. 
You cocked your head, eyes still narrowed, skeptical of the stranger as he swam towards you. As he approached, he raised his hands, one still closed around something. 
“What is that?” You gestured. “In your hand.”
Neteyam eased up towards the boulder and grabbed your wrist, extending your palm towards him, and placed the smooth stone within your grasp. 
“For you,” he breathed. Still smiling. 
You stared at the stone in your hands, flipping it between your palms and holding it up towards the afternoon light, allowing it to glint in your eyes. Neteyam just grinned, watching your increasing awe in what he’d found. 
When you finally met his gaze, and he was still beaming up at you with a toothy grin like you’d never seen before, you couldn’t help but blush and gaze back at the stone in your hands.
“Thank you,” you murmured. 
Neteyam nodded, pushing off from the rock. He still wore that same bright smile. 
As he floated back towards the shore where Kiri and Tuk were playing in the sand, he touched his forehead and released his palm towards you in a silent gesture. 
I see you. 
You could feel the heat spread across your cheeks. Turning your attention back towards the stone in your hands, you tried your hardest to keep your gaze from flicking back and forth towards Neteyam as he swam for his sisters on the shore. 
Tried, and failed. 
The way his deep blue skin seemed to ripple through the ocean water, instead of blending in like yours. The swing of his arms, and the dance of his braids as they floated behind him. 
You could still feel the cool, smooth surface of the beautiful new treasure he’d brought you as it lay in your palms. And yet, your eyes stayed glued to him as he emerged from the water, stumbling a bit in the sand when he tried to shake the water from his braids. You chuckled, rolling your eyes. 
Definitely a skxawng.
Later that evening, you placed Neteyam’s rock on a shelf in your marui, right in the middle of all of your favorite treasures. Tilting your head, you studied its presence among the rest of your collection, noting the way it reflected the colors of all the shells nearby, brightening their shades and making its own rainbow on the floor of the marui below you, taking the best pieces of each and turning it into something new and brighter. In all the time you’d picked pieces from the sandy ocean floor, you hadn’t found anything quite like this. 
Neteyam had definitely gotten your attention. 
The next day, you returned to the same boulder, sitting in silence as Kiri wandered the shore behind you. The rock was warm beneath you, and as you lay flat against its surface to bask in the sun, you heard a light splashing that was distinctly un-wave-like coming from your right. 
“I know you’re there,” you sighed. 
A chuckle came from the same direction as the splashing, and you felt a presence ease up from the water and climb across the boulder to lay next to you. 
“How’s it going, water girl?” 
Water girl. 
And thus, your most recent nickname. You had to chuckle a little; only a skxawng like Neteyam would come up with a name like “water girl”. But alas, it did have a certain ring to it, and of the many names you’d had over the years, something in the way he said it made your insides flutter in a strange way you’d never known before. 
It wasn’t paysmung, that was for sure. But it would do. 
“Never better, tree boy.”
Another chuckle. 
“Tree boy?”
You finally turned your head and opened your eyes to find him as close as he could possibly get without actually touching. His wide, yellow eyes were mere inches from your own, beads of ocean water still clinging to the tips of his eyelashes, and glistening from his forehead. 
You couldn’t find it in your heart to try and lie to yourself - he was kind of pretty. 
You smiled. “Water girl, tree boy. It fits.”
Neteyam smiled, and up close his smile was even brighter. It was effervescent, glowing like the rock he’d brought you the day before, and you couldn’t help but grin in response. 
“Fair enough,” he shrugged, closing his eyes and turning his face towards the sun overhead, letting the warmth of the midday dry his skin. 
And just like that, a peaceful silence settled in the air.
It wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but as you watched the rise and fall of his chest, and the glisten of his cheeks as the light hit their peak, you swore a school of fish was swimming through your stomach. One of his hands rested gently against his stomach, lifting and sinking as he took slow, deep breaths. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he was asleep. 
His eyes fluttered open, and you snapped your eyes shut, feigning that they’d been that way the entire time, and that you hadn’t been staring at him as if committing his features to memory. You heard him chuckle softly, and when your eyes opened, he too was scanning your features. 
As you watched his eyes flick from the top of your head to the pinnacle of your chest, where your neck dipped and curved into a hollow at its base, you felt your pulse quicken and a small ball of tension seemed to roll through the air around you. The school of fish in your stomach turned into a full swarm, dancing and spinning and tickling your insides. 
No one - quite literally no one - had ever made you feel this strange sort of tension just from existing. 
But in the same way you found him kind of pretty, he too was entirely raptured by your beauty. In the way the darker skin around your shoulders and hairline turned soft and creamy towards the center of your face. In the fullness of your lips, and the way they parted softly as he gazed at you. In the way the color of your eyes matched the blue of the ocean like no one else he’d seen, as if you were part of the water itself.
He turned toward you, resting himself on an elbow, eyes still scanning for any hesitation from you. But you were frozen, still as the rock beneath you, as he brought a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 
He started to smile, and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, there was a commotion from the shore. You both sat up, tilting your heads to watch as Ao’nung approached Kiri as she lay in the shallows, three other boys following him.
Neteyam’s stare instantly hardened. 
“I’ll be back,” he growled. “Stay here.”
You tried to reach for him, but he dove into the water before you could grab his wrist, swimming for the shore just as Lo’ak approached the group from the other end of the beach. 
You watched as he emerged from the water, as he shoved Ao’nung away from Lo’ak, and prodded him with a finger to the chest. Ao’nung raised his hands, and as Neteyam pulled Lo’ak and Kiri away, you allowed a brief release of breath. 
And then Lo’ak punched Ao’nung in the face. 
Three times. 
You were already on your feet when Ao’nung hit the sand, but when Neteyam scratched his head and leapt into the fray, you dove into the water in an instant. 
You had just reached the shore when Lo’ak was being pulled by his tail, grasping the nearest Na’vi by the ear. After all, when Lo’ak was grabbed, he tended to grab right back, and with tenfold force. Even you knew this. 
Kiri was safe, and fine, on the edge of the fight and trying not to laugh. Neteyam had a clear edge over another boy, and had him pinned by the full force of his body weight. And while no one at noticed your arrival yet, when you walked right up to Ao’nung and grabbed him by the queue, jerking him away, everyone stopped moving as Ao’nung let out a particularly girlish squeal. 
Ao’nung’s eyes widened when he realized who had grabbed him.
“That’s…enough,” you growled. “Honestly, behaving like a child.”
You released Ao’nung’s braid, tossing it from your hands. You could feel Neteyam’s eyes boring holes in the back of your skull, Lo’ak’s too. But the way Ao’nung was completely baffled by your intervention, when you had done nothing of the sort for years, had a strange sort of pride swelling in your chest.
You were not one for fighting. Eywa, you weren’t even one for words. Ao’nung only knew of you as the silent freak, who was not even fun to pick on because you simply didn’t respond. 
Suddenly, you’d barged right in, and while Neteyam had managed to get them to back off, you had Ao’nung gaping like a fish. 
“Three of you,” you continued. “Against one. Really upstanding behavior, Ao’nung.”
Ao’nung’s eyes narrowed, and the surprise wore off. 
But still, you kept speaking, tilting your head and matching his squint.
“Shall I fetch your father?”
Ao’nung instantly closed the distance between you, puffing his chest and squaring his jaw with yours. 
“That’s rich,” he leered, “coming from the biggest freak of them all. You’re even worse than Kiri.”
Before you even had a chance to respond, and before the telltale tears could well in your eyes, your gaze was interrupted as Neteyam quite literally forced his way between you. He shoved Ao’nung aside for the second time, with such force that Ao’nung stumbled into the water. 
This time, however, Neteyam kept one arm wrapped securely around your waist, and his tail around your upper thigh. 
You were pressed flush to him, as if you were a second skin, giving you a front row seat to the clench of Neteyam’s jaw. 
“Stop. Leave her alone.” 
Ao’nung studied his surroundings. The three others still hadn’t stood from the sand, where they lay with hands clutching their various injuries. Lo’ak stood between them and Kiri, and despite the slight sway of his stance, his fists were clenched and his brow was hardened in a gaze eerily similar to Neteyam’s own stare. 
And what was worse - from over Neteyam’s broad shoulder, you could faintly make out the silhouettes of Jake, Ronal, and Tonowari approaching from the edge of the village. 
They didn’t look happy. 
Ao’nung turned to his friends, and gave a slight gesture. 
“Let’s go.”
They left, leaving you still pressed to Neteyam, your hand now resting against his bicep. It was warm beneath your fingertips, and you could feel the ripple of his muscle beneath your touch as he let go of you, replacing the smooth skin of his back with a firm grip on your waist as his eyes turned to meet your own. 
“Go,” he murmured, voice lowered as if no one could hear. “Go back to the rock. I’ll meet you soon. I have to talk to my dad.”
You nodded, looking past him as Jake stopped halfway to you, just as Ao’nung passed him with the three others. You had only seconds before he would reach you. 
Your eyes returned to his, dipping below to where a cut had opened in his lower lip. 
“Will you be alright?”
He nodded. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
Reluctantly, you slid from under his grasp, and turned back towards the water. You turned briefly to Kiri and Lo’ak, making sure they too were alright, before you jogged away and leapt into the water, swimming for the same boulder you’d just come from. 
You stopped halfway to catch your breath, and turned your head to where Neteyam was following Jake back towards the village. Jake had a firm grip on Lo’ak’s upper arm, and was tugging him along the sand, wearing the same scowl he’d had moments prior. 
Neteyam’s head was hung low, his fist pressed to his cut lip, braids only barely swinging as he trudged behind his father. 
You sighed. As you turned back to finish the brief swim to your boulder, you sent a silent prayer. Hoping Jake would go easy on them - particularly on Neteyam, who had only stepped in to protect Lo’ak, and who would have succeeded had the odds been more evenly matched. 
When you reached the boulder and climbed out of the water towards the surface, you stood for a moment, watching the now miniature figures of Jake, Lo’ak, and Neteyam disappear into the shadows of village. You sighed again, and having hoped you’d be able to see them from your small vantage point, you sank down onto the rock. 
Feeling perfectly hopeless. 
If anything, you wished you had done more. You wished you had followed Neteyam immediately, or even more that you had managed to grab him. That you had dove into the water together, and approached the group at the right moment. 
You wished, more than anything, that you hadn’t waited. 
It was starting to gnaw at you - that your life seemed like a bottomless pit of waiting. That you had no power other than to stand still at life’s rocky edge, helpess to do anything other than watch as moments passed you by. You were the silent one; the powerless one. The freak, as Ao’nung had put it. And even if you tried, you could quite literally do nothing to help as those around you seemed to suffer. 
Now more than ever, this gnawing deep within started to feel more and more like a heavy weight. It hadn’t bothered you until Neteyam had entered the picture, but the vision of his split lip, and the bruises beneath his right eye, and the scrapes on his chest now made the tears you’d held back come bursting to the surface. 
You had only known him in actuality for no more than a day, and yet the way he’d come bursting to your rescue had you not only confused, and perfectly and completely smitten, but utterly heartbroken that he’d even needed to do so. 
And moreover, entirely positive that you weren’t worth saving. 
Kiri was - there was no question about that. Lo’ak definitely was, especially when he was that outnumbered and still managed to do considerable damage to his assailants. 
And then…there was Neteyam. 
Neteyam, who had successfully stopped the fight with nothing more than his presence. 
Neteyam, who when you arrived had Roxto pinned beneath him, who had Roxto powerless to fight back as he swung punch after punch. Who would have won for the second time if there had been one less to account for. 
Neteyam who, in truth, did not need your help winning. 
You had yourself fully convinced of this by the time you heard a light splashing coming from your left, and growing closer. You felt the lump in your throat swell as Neteyam eased his way onto the boulder, and that same lump grew larger when he grunted at the effort of bringing himself to your side. 
That groan, that all-encapsulating sound of pain, had you nearly shattering as your eyes opened, and you sat up to meet him face to face. 
When his eyes met yours, and you came in full view of the now purple bruise beneath his eye, and the cut in his lip that was seeping blood, and the scratches on his chest that extended the full length of his right pectoral muscle, you made a strange squelching sound, and plopped your head to his left shoulder. 
If you could have only seen the way Neteyam’s eyes widened at your touch, and softened at the feeling of wetness on his skin when he realized you were crying, you would have only broken more completely. 
Neteyam was not used to girls he liked crying on him, that much was certain. In fact, Neteyam didn’t have much time for girls period. So the fact that you seemed to be upset - over him - was entirely perplexing, confusing, and perfectly heartbreaking, all at the same time. 
Sure, he’d wanted you to notice him. Sure, he’d wanted you to return his pathetic attempts at affection, that he hadn’t yet realized you didn’t find pathetic in the least. Sure, he’d wanted to bring the two of you closer, and he’d wanted nothing more than your worlds to finally collide.
But not like this. 
Don’t get him wrong, he didn’t particularly enjoy standing up for Lo’ak day in and day out - but that was his job. Literally, as the oldest brother, it was in his internal code to defend his younger siblings. It was his job to get Lo’ak out of the trouble he somehow managed to always be getting into.
But this - this was new. This was different, and ugly, and soul-wrenching. He loathed the feeling that ate him up inside now, as he brought up a hand to rest against the back of your head. 
He’d seen Jake do this for Neytiri many times. He’d seen Jake comfort Kiri this way, and he’d seen it work. 
What he hadn’t picked up on was the mirroring of pain that Jake felt when he had to comfort those closest to him. Realistically, Jake just hadn’t shown this, especially when his kids were around. It would have been helpful to know how much the sound of you crying - over him - would absolutely obliterate him, but then again, Jake probably would have never discussed it, even if Neteyam asked. It would have been helpful to know that by comforting you, that by taking away your pain, he would only be absorbing it into his own skin. 
So, Neteyam did what he knew how to. 
With the one hand still resting on your head, he brought the other to the small of your back, pulling you in as closely as he could, stroking your skin in soothing, circular motions. Hushing you, whispering in your ear, and trying with all his might to get you to stop crying. To make you stop being sad if he could. 
Because as he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t yet seen you smile. 
Actually smile. 
You’d grinned, of course, and bared your teeth at him in a hiss. You’d smiled with your lips closed, and he’d seen you let out small smiles, only when you were around Kiri or Tuk. And he definitely hadn’t seen you laugh yet. 
The moment he realized this, he decided right then and there that if he had any say in the matter, you wouldn’t ever be sad like this again. That he would never, ever give you a reason to cry over him again. 
And just like it was his duty to protect his siblings, Neteyam made a solemn vow to himself, the ocean, and Eywa - and frankly, anyone who was listening - to add you to that list. 
He would never again stand for a skxawng like Ao’nung, or anyone else, making you feel like you were less than the perfect being you were. And he certainly wouldn’t allow anyone else to ever again make you feel like you were a freak. To Neteyam, you were as perfect as the stone he’d brought you the first time you met, and the moment you were done crying, he was going to make sure you knew it. 
And if Ao’nung wasn’t already bruised into the ground from Lo’ak’s powerful right hook, then Neteyam was going to put him there, chief’s son or not.
Neteyam let loose the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. For the first time since he’d climbed up to meet you on the rock, his focus shifted from where you sat silently, head still resting on his shoulder, tears slowed and breathing returning to an even keel, to the salty water stinging the cut on his lower lip.
You felt him shift, as he brought the hand that had been resting on your lower back up to his lip, and you felt him tense beneath you at the self-inflicted pressure.  A low groan left him, and you finally had to tilt back from your spot against his shoulder to study his face. He was blinking from the pain, his tongue rubbing at the offending cut, smearing a trail of blood across his chin. 
You brought your hand to his, pulling it away from his face to give you full view of where his once perfect lower lip bore a gash the size of your thumb. You winced, and brought your free hand to his cheek, stroking with your thumb the area that had bruised beneath his eye. And without thinking, you leaned in, gently pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth where there was no cut. 
Perhaps you thought it would make him feel better. Perhaps you thought you could take away some of his pain. Perhaps you were hoping for some sort of redemption, after you had behaved quite unlike yourself for the past few hours. After you hand dissolved at the mere sight of him, and had sat there like a skxawng with your head in his shoulder, your salty tears soaking into his skin. 
Still, you had no idea what came over you.  
Now though, as you studied his face, and his still widened eyes from your half-kiss, and ran a gentle finger over the scratches on his chest, you felt your normal steely resolve return somewhere deep within you. 
“You’re hurt,” you murmured.  
Neteyam shrugged. “It’s fine.” 
As he spoke, the blood was beginning to pool, even from such minimal effort. You shook your head and stood from the rock, pulling him up with you by the hand. 
“Come. Let’s get you patched up.” 
You dragged him down the line of boulders, chuckling softly when he nearly missed a jump, stumbling slightly from the rocky surface. As you reached the outskirts of the village, you both slowed from a jog to an easy walk, Neteyam only needing to extend his gait to come level with you, his arm brushing against yours as you made your way to your marui. 
You had to swallow down the slight spark of excitement building in your throat at his touch, and forced your focus to narrow on the injured boy following you. 
This was no easy feat, to be sure. But as you entered your marui, and gestured for Neteyam to sit on your mat, you felt that same steely resolve take over as you gathered your supplies. 
When you turned back towards him, a pile of bowls and dressings in your hand, Neteyam yet again had his hand against the cut, and his tongue running against it’s edge.
“Stop that,” you barked, “You’re making it worse.”
Neteyam’s hand dropped to rest in his lap, and as you knelt before him, organizing your supplies at your side, you could feel him watching you. Studying you.
You chose for the moment to ignore his piercing gaze. Instead, you brought a hand to his ankle, gently pushing it aside where he had been sitting cross-legged, allowing you to scoot your way in between his legs. He allowed his arms to stretch out behind him, resting the majority of his weight on the heels of his hands. 
When he had made himself mostly comfortable, you started with the scratch on his lip. If only just to get him to stop messing with it. 
You cleaned it first, wiping away the smears of blood, and after you’d cleaned and sanitized it, you gently applied pressure with a clean cloth. 
“Hold here,” you whispered, and Neteyam obeyed, bringing one hand to rest upon the cloth. 
This gave you the chance to apply a smooth, buttery healing salve to the bruises beneath his eyes, and those smattering the skin around his neck and chest. Next, you applied the same salve gently to the scrapes on the skin of his chest, and wrapped a bandage from around his shoulder to cover them, and to allow the salve to seep into the cuts so they would heal. The muscles in his chest rippled beneath your touch, and a low hiss left his lips from the slight, momentary sting as you finished your work. 
Finally, you gently pulled his hand away from his lip, removing the cloth with it. 
The bleeding had stopped from the pressure, and the wound was now clotted. You took the same salve on the pad of your forefinger, and eased closer to Neteyam, your face mere inches from his own. Studying the wound, you brought a hand beneath his chin to steady him, and bending forward, you flicked your eyes up to meet his. 
“This will sting again,” you muttered, waiting for him to gently nod.
When he closed his eyes, you went to work, applying the salve as quickly and gently as you could so the sting wouldn’t last. 
You didn’t even notice that as you finished your work, removing the bandage from around his chest where the salve had soaked into his skin, Neteyam could not stop staring at you. You didn’t notice, that is, until you bent back, resting on your heels, and came face to face with him.
This time, Neteyam had closed the distance between you, his knees resting against yours, and has he brought one hand to tangle in your hair, his other hand swept a stray strand behind your ear for the second time that day. 
And just like that, your breath was stolen from you in a small sigh that left your lips. 
For a moment, everything seemed to pause. 
For a moment, it was just you and him, eyes connected. His piercing gaze seemed to search yours, eyes flicking back and forth, scanning for any sign of hesitation from you. One of his hands rested on your cheek, and the other rested against the back of your neck, still tangled in your thick hair. He blinked once, twice, still studying you for any sign of pause, or resistance.
And other than the fact that you had stopped breathing almost entirely, there was none. 
Your heart didn’t even have time to skip a full beat before Neteyam brought his lips to yours. 
For a moment, all you could taste was the tangy bitterness of the salve against your lips. For a moment, it seemed as if your lips hadn’t actually met yet, the salve creating a slippery barrier between you where your lips couldn’t find traction. 
And then Neteyam was pulling away, just for a moment, laughing breathlessly, grabbing the cloth from beside him and wiping away the salve from his lips and yours.
You laughed, really honestly laughed as he palmed the cloth against your lips, muffling the sound only slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut as he brushed the cloth against your lips. 
He was laughing too, and once the salve was gone, the both of you had to pause, catching your breath. 
Of course your first real kiss would be tainted by a skxawng with a cut on his lip, that you had just spent time trying to heal. 
When both of you had caught your breath, Neteyam’s eyes met yours, and he smiled at you. You already thought his smile was blinding, but now, you swore you could see the stars reflected in his wide grin. You couldn’t help but smile in return, a breathy chuckle leaving your lips. 
“You skxawng,” you breathed. “I just fixed that cut.”
Again, Neteyam closed the distance between you, hands gripping beneath your thighs to draw you into his lap, where you wrapped your legs around his waist and draped your arms over his shoulders. As you rested there, safe and warm within his grasp, your gaze meeting his, Neteyam let loose a deep, weighted sigh. And again, his hand came up to rest against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking against your lower lip. 
He shrugged, grinning still. 
“I don’t care.”
And for the second time that evening, with bated breath, Neteyam closed the short distance between you and brought his lips to yours.
This time, you had the upper hand. This time, he angled his head to parallel with your own, allowing the kiss to instantly deepen. This time, his hands gripped and massaged at the skin of your thighs, coaxing a sigh from your lips that met with his own heavy breathing in a tangle of knotted air. 
This time, instead of the bitter salve, all you could taste, all you could feel was him. 
He tasted sweet, and minty, with a salty edge that reminded you of the ocean. And while his lower lip had been marred by a deep cut - which you would be thanking Ao’nung for later - the rest of his lips were plump and soft and perfect against your own. Like molten lead, or a pair of pearls fused together with time, his lips against yours matched like two pieces of the same cloth.
And slowly, a knot began to grow within you, deep within your core, that had you positively certain you couldn’t get enough of him. 
Neteyam couldn’t get enough of you either. When your small, soft hands scratched against his chest, he let out a low moan that he was positive he’d never made before, and he grabbed at you with a force like he was going to sink you into his skin and never let you go, like he couldn’t exist without you.
And maybe, in truth, he could, but as you pushed from his lap and grabbed him by the neck, pushing him against the mat beneath you in a furious tangle of teeth, lips, and limbs, Neteyam was absolutely certain that while he could live without you, he definitely didn’t want to. 
It was there, on the floor of your marui, that you stayed with him until eclipse had long passed. Until your lips had become bone dry, and his cut had come open again. Until all the breath had sucked from your lungs, in a way you’d never felt before in all your years mastering breathing where there was no air. 
It was there that Jake and your father found you both, dead asleep, tangled up together and splayed out on your mat. A blanket covered you, and one arm was wound around Neteyam’s chest, your legs wound between his.
Jake hadn’t seen Neteyam sleep this peacefully in years - not since Lo’ak had started walking. 
His eyes met your father’s, and they shared a knowing grin, before backing out of the marui to meet with Neytiri and Kxali on the edge of the village. Neither of them had the heart to interrupt the two sleeping teenagers, and both of them seemed to have a deep understanding that while the two of you had grown up apart, now, you had found each other. Now, you had found a small slice of peace, and though they didn’t particularly enjoy the thought of the mischief you two would get up to together, it paled in comparison to the thought of forcing you two apart. 
Neither Jake nor Elpawe were going to let that happen. 
Of course, Lo’ak took the mickey out of Neteyam when he returned to his family’s marui the next morning. The Mighty Warrior had spent all night, tangled up with a girl? In Lo’ak’s eyes, Neteyam deserved some teasing. 
Neteyam took it well as always, shoving Lo’ak gently by the chest, playfully grinning as Lo’ak shoved him right back, sending Neteyam stumbling over the marui’s edge and right into you. 
You caught him by his arms, steadying him. 
Seeing Lo’ak behind him grinning like the devil, and surrounded by his family, you tilted your head and gestured towards Neytiri and Jake. 
“I see you,” you spoke, bringing your finger from your forehead towards Neteyam’s parents. 
They nodded, returning the favor, and you did not particularly like the knowing grin on Jake’s face, or the steam that seemed to be coming from Neytiri’s ears at the sight of her oldest son with a stranger from another clan. But when Jake placed a hand on Neytiri’s knee, she softened, and smiled up at Neteyam.
“Go,” she said, “And be back before eclipse this time, please.”
Neteyam nodded, not speaking, his face turning a brilliant shade of red. Chuckles arose from his siblings, and you could hear the entire family dissolve into laughter as Neteyam tugged you by the hand towards the beach. 
When you reached the shoreline, plopping down into the sand, Neteyam sitting next to you, you finally let loose the laughter you’d been holding in. 
Your head tilted back, you let out a loud, barking laugh, shaking your head, and looked to Neteyam.
“I’m sorry,” you breathed, in between a fit of giggles. “I’m so sorry.”
The way he was looking at you, brows quirked, studying you again, made you remember that first day on the rock, when you had studied him the same way as if you were committing his features to memory. You didn’t realize of course, that Neteyam actually was committing your bright smile and the sound of your laugh to memory, somewhere deep in his mind where he would never forget it. 
And then he smiled, and laughed with you, and tackled you into the sand, sending you both into another fit of howling laughter. 
When he pulled back, only for a moment, he smiled down at you, and waited for you to smile in return, before connecting his lips with yours. This kiss was new, and different - passionate, tender, and slow, his lips seemed to dance with yours. Not only that, but he brought one leg between your own, the other pressed firmly into the sand beneath you, and his entire upper body seemed fused with yours in a perfect molding of skin against skin, like roots digging beneath the earth. 
Again, you found peace within each other’s touch. The world around you disappeared until it was just you and Neteyam. Even the sand beneath you faded away, and all you could feel was his chest pressed to yours, and his hands gripping at your waist and your thighs and anywhere he could easily reach. You were certain he was going to leave bruises behind where his fingers dug into your skin, but if you were positive of one thing, it was that you didn’t mind. 
If you could have one wish, if Eywa could grant you one thing, it was that you could stay here forever with him on the warm sand, tangled up in his arms, his braids tickling against your cheeks, his smile mirroring yours when he pulled away, breathless and sighing. 
When he did pull away to breathe, you didn’t let him stay apart from you for very long. 
In the same way he’d grasped at you like you were a lifeline, you wound your arms around his shoulders and pulled him back into you, reconnecting your lips in a flurry of motion, and wound your legs around his hips, giving him access to the soft skin of your thighs. 
And if you were feeling particularly bold, you’d grasp him with your legs and tackle him into the sand, pinning him beneath you in a wild spray of hair and limbs and breathless laughter. 
There you’d stay for as long as you could, hands against his chest and lips fused together like iron, his own palms exploring places they hadn’t before, running up and down your back, and your thighs, and the roundness of your bum, squeezing and grasping at any soft parts of your skin that he could reach. 
You’d let him, sighing breathlessly against his lips. And sometimes, you’d pull him into a sitting position, grabbing at the nape of his neck. The more you started to explore each other, the more you discovered things you liked about his supple skin, and the more marks he left on your own, in the soft spots where your neck met your shoulder. You too left a few marks of your own, in little scratches on his back, or in the equally buttery soft skin of his neck and shoulders. The more marks you left behind, the more beautiful noises you coaxed from his lips, and the more you enjoyed peppering his skin with brands claiming him as yours.
Days, and weeks, and months passed like this, in a beautiful blur of young love. 
Neither of you planned for Neteyam to leave you behind. 
And what was worse, you hadn’t even been there when it happened. You were there for his funeral, off somewhere in the water as Jake and Neytiri laid him to rest with your ancestors. As Lo’ak and Payakan swam by, brother with brother. When Jake and Neytiri went to the Spirit Tree, you followed them, tucking yourself deep into the branches where they couldn’t see you, and connecting your queue to one of the glowing palms.
When Jake found you on the beach a few days later, crying into your hands, he had plopped down in the sand next to you in a manner eerily similar to Neteyam. 
When he’d wrapped an arm around you, bringing you into his chest, he told you - and only you - what he’d seen in the visions the Spirit Tree gave him the night of Neteyam’s funeral. 
Somewhere in the middle of his story, your tears had slowed. Somewhere during his tale, you’d looked up from your hands, wiping away your tears, and leaned into his strong embrace. 
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” Jake uttered in reply, squeezing you a bit tighter. “I’m sorry too. He loved you, you know.”
You nodded, sniffling. 
“I know. I loved him, too.”
Later that evening, as your mother came and kissed you goodnight, wiping away a few stray tears from your eyes, she lay next to you and sang you to sleep with the same song she’d sung during your early years. 
You’d cried in her arms for several minutes, and she’d whispered in your ear just as Neteyam had. It had only made you cry more, how little things were reminding you of him, chipping away at the gaping hole he’d left behind. 
As you finally drifted off, your mother still stroking your hair, she’d whispered to you in the silence, just as she’d done when you were a baby. 
“Hush, paysmung. Listen to the ocean,” she murmured softly. “He is in the water now. He is with you.” 
- -
You padded along the beach, one hand held above your brow to shield you from the sun, toes digging into the sand as you hopped along, jumping over shells the waves were leaving behind. The trees blew in the wind, and the waves were on your left, crashing against the sand and pulling back into the ocean. 
Your hair blew in the breeze behind you, cooling you from the warmth of the sun, and you turned, smiling, to watch as Neteyam came jogging up to meet you. 
Oh, Neteyam. 
He was even more stunning in your dreams, if it were even possible, and his effervescent smile still had the power to make you smile in return. 
He came running up to you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his chest, lifting you off your feet and spinning you in circles. Making you smile, and laugh, your head ducking into his shoulder as your long hair tangled with his braids. 
When he set you back on your feet, the both of you slightly dizzy, you smiled up at him, your arms still wound around his neck. His arms were still tightly around your waist, strong and muscular, pressing you flush against him. 
One of his hands released a braid from where it had stayed tangled in your long, wavy hair, but while one of his arms stayed wrapped around you, his free hand came to rest softly against your cheek. 
“How’s it going, water girl?” He breathed, smiling. 
Suddenly, a great sadness overcame you, and even in your dreams you felt a lump rise up in your throat, constricting you. 
“My Neteyam,” you croaked. “Why did you have to leave?”
“Ah, water girl,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
He closed his eyes, and brought his forehead to yours, your breathing tangling together as a few stray tears escaped down your cheeks. When your eyes finally opened, tears were spilling down his cheeks too, and you brought your thumbs to swipe them away.
You were allowed to cry - Neteyam was not. 
“It’s okay,” you gasped. “I’ll be okay.”
Neteyam smiled sadly at you, brushing your hair from your face. The both of you could tell you didn’t quite believe your own words. 
“I know. I know you’ll be okay, water girl.”
He brought his lips to yours, pressing them together in slow, tender circles. A breeze blew through, sending your hair blowing wildly behind you, the beads of Neteyam’s braids clicking against each other in the wind. And still, you did not break apart for as long as you could bear, only separating from him when the both of you could no longer breathe. 
Once again, he brought his forehead to yours. 
“I can’t stay,” he murmured. “You have to wake up soon.”
Your chest started feeling as if it was going to cave in, and a panic rose up within you like a great wave. 
“No,” you choked out. “I don’t want to, I don’t want you to go.”
“I know.” 
Neteyam ran his thumb across your cheeks, swiping away another wave of tears from your skin. 
“I know, my love.”
A great wave crashed from behind him, splashing up against your calves, tangling you in the water. 
“It’s time,” Neteyam sighed. 
“No,” you protested. “No.”
You grabbed onto him as tightly as you could, digging your face into his shoulder and pulling him into you. 
“Please don’t leave me,” you cried between sobs, “Please. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I know. But it’s time. The ocean is calling,” Neteyam said as he separated from you, holding both of your hands in his. 
Another great wave crashed onto the shore, rising up around you and pulling Neteyam from your grasp. 
“Neteyam, no!”
Neteyam looked out at the ocean, and turned back to you, a bright smile once again adorning his beautiful features. He reached for you, your fingers barely touching his, the ocean rising and pulling the two of you apart. 
“Don’t worry, my love. I’m with you.”
As he swam off into the water, you watched him until he was a small speck on the horizon. It was only then that he turned, and waved at you in a silent goodbye. 
As you waved back, the ocean swelled around you, wrapping you in a tight embrace that smelled distinctly like him.
Don’t worry, water girl. I’m never very far. 
- -
ow this horted
thank you for reading 
xoxo, carrie
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ecstarry · 9 days
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"The Letter" thank you so much for your prompt @plzandspanku 🤍✨
“James, what is this?” He was staring at him, a piece of paper that held James’ heart was between Regulus' fingers. 
“I think you know, love,” the words barely left James’ lips as the weight of what was about to happen settled on his chest. Rejection. There was no strength left to question Regulus about why he was in his room. James avoided Regulus’ desperate gaze, hoping that as long as he didn’t meet his best friend’s eyes they could remain like that for a little longer. 
He closed his eyes as he heard Regulus footsteps exit their room. He’d rather go blind than see him walk away. He knew, when he first saw the curly haired boy crying hysterically in his porch because of a scraped knee, James knew he would forever love Regulus. He took care of him then, and he never stopped since. 
He allowed his body to sink him to the floor. Right as the tears began to fall, the same footsteps he had memorized at twelve years old were coming back to him. 
“This one is mine,” James looked up at Regulus and was met with a crumpled piece of paper being offered to him. It read: To James, my love and best friend.
At eleven years old, as the brown-eyed boy healed his scraped knee, Regulus had also known.
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quartzalynlove · 10 months
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No Kisses
Pairing: hobie brown x fem black reader
Summary: Hobie forgot to kiss you before leaving. You decide to mess with him
A/n: I'm still figuring out how to use British slang so if anyone has tips I'll gladly take them
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Being Spider-Man was a huge responsibility, even for someone as allergic to responsibility and consistency as Hobie. Of course, he was devoted to his city and the cause, but you never knew that devotion could surpass you.
Honestly, you weren't mad that Hobie forgot to kiss you before swinging out of the window, but it would have been fun to act like you were. He left around noon, and it was eleven at night when he returned. In the living room, you laid on the couch snuggled in a blanket and rewatching one of your favorite shows. Hobie knew where to look first when you weren't in the bedroom. Already unmasked, he went to join you on the couch. However, when he greeted you and patted your thighs for you to move your legs, you didn't budge. You kept your eyes straight ahead at the TV screen.
Hobie's brows furrowed in confusion as he waved his hand in front of your face, "baby?" He called.
An annoyed sigh came from you as you moved Hobie's hand from your view. He knew that face. The tight lips, slightly squinted eyes, and a small scrunch of your nose. You were irritated. Normally, Hobie would've thought you looked adorable in your little mood, but it was obvious you were irritated with him.
"I do somethin' wrong, babe?" He asked with a tilt of his head.
Finally, you looked at him, but it was only a quick glance before your attention was redirected at the TV. Your look made Hobie wince as his fist thumped lightly on his forehead.
"Ah, shit, what'd I do?" He mentally recounted his entire day.
After coming up with nothing, Hobie crouched next to you and placed his hand on the free couch space in front of you.
"Look at me, baby?"
Adding a slight pout for good measure, you stood your ground as Hobie tried to get your attention again.
"Babe, please." he called, but you remained a statue.
Unfortunately for you, however, Hobie knew a sure fire way to grab your attention. By this point he had caught on that you were pretending. He's seen you when you were mad at him, and you had a habit of not staying around him until you calmed down. Besides, the two of you normally had very good communication. You gave him no choice; if you wanted to play, the gloves were coming off.
Hobie lowered his voice. "Peng ting."
The statue blinked at that stupid phrase. Hobie didn't just throw that phrase around with you; it only came from the deepest part of his heart. It was like a second name he had given you. You relaxed your face without even noticing, but a smile spread across Hobie's.
"There you are." His voice was honeyed as he tapped a finger underneath your chin, inching closer.
You tried to resist, moving your face as Hobie continued to tickle the underside of your chin.
A quiet laugh came from you as you finally spoke. "Stop."
As a smile stretched across your face, Hobie felt warmth spread throughout his body.
"Nah, I thought you were having a laugh wit’ me, babe; thought you were mad at me?"
"I am!" Taking your hand from under your blanket, you playfully pushed away Hobie's face
Before you could draw it back, Hobie grabbed your hand and ran his thumb across your knuckles. Now on his knees, Hobie leaned in closer to you.
"Right." Hobie went to kiss you, but before your lips could connect you sat up, taking your hand back and folding your arms over your chest.
As you stared down at Hobie, he curiously stared back while resting himself in your lap.
"So, I can't kiss you, is that it?" He asked.
With a small eye roll, you turned away. This was really the performance of your life.
"It's crazy you wanna give me an 'I'm home' kiss but not an 'I'm leaving' one."
Hobie's head tilted, resting on his arm as his eyes searched around in thought. He looked up at you again.
"I didn't kiss you before I left?" He asked
As a reply, you simply glanced at Hobie before leaning fully into the couch with a light sigh. A small laugh came from Hobie as he began to stand before sitting down next to you.
“My bad, baby, I’m sorry,” He leaned into you, his eyes gazing over the features of your face. “But I can make it up, can’t I?”
When you turned back, you were met with a hungry smile on Hobie’s face that caused a small smirk to form on your lips.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged.
Hobie couldn’t stand you playing hard to get like this; he wanted nothing more than to kiss your lips, your cheeks, and nose thousands of times. Why did you have to act so cruel?
“Why you gotta act mad with me, baby?” Hobie started poking at you, but you wouldn’t give in.
You cocked an eyebrow as you glared at him, “Acting,” you turned away again. “Nah, I thought you loved me.”
Suddenly, you felt two of Hobie’s fingers turning your head one last time to meet his gaze, and his face was dead serious.
“Aye, don’t play like that, baby,” He said. “You know I love you.”
A smile spread across your face as you felt his touch on your cheek, “Do I?” you asked.
From your dark eyes to your gorgeous lips, Hobie’s eyes traveled. His entire hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking across your skin.
His voice could barely rise above a whisper, “Yeah,” he said before leaning in to place a deep kiss on your lips. “Yeah, you do.”
769 notes · View notes
This might be controversial but i feel like saying it as a writer myself.
There’s a lot of complaints in the Stranger Things fandom about fanfic. About how people focus too much on Steddie, about how in Steddie fics the other characters take a backseat, about how people don’t like the common portrayal of xyz character. These complaints are valid, but do you wanna know the solution? Because it sure as shit isn’t bitching about it and trying to make fanfic writers write fanfic the way you want it.
It’s writing your own goddamn fanfic.
This kind of talk is extremely discouraging to fanfic authors. It makes them feel like they’re only allowed to write fanfic one specific way, and if they don’t write it that one way they’re a bad person, they’re lesbophobic for writing about Steddie and not Ronance, they’re a bad writer for focusing on what they want to write.
Fanfic authors do this for free. The solution is not bitching to them about the fanfic provided. The solution is writing your own fanfic the way you want it written.
Maybe if more of these people who are complaining wrote their own fanfic instead of complaining, there wouldn’t be much to complain about anymore.
(Sorry if this came off as rude, it was not my intention. I’m just getting fed up as a fanfic writer myself who feels discouraged by seeing the negativity surrounding fanfic in this fandom.)
941 notes · View notes
smolvenger · 5 months
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Loki Fandom utterly in tears and devastated:
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Fic Writers:
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spookychick78 · 5 months
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Wanna Be Yours
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Peepaw Myers X GN!Reader
Word Count: 6,558
⚠️Warnings: NSFW (18+, MDNI), choking, dubious consent, rough sex Michael himself is a warning, proofread but I'm human⚠️
Figured it was time I take on the old man. There's not nearly enough fanfiction out there for Peepaw. Is it over 6k? Yes. Is it self indulgent? Probably. Is it smut? Eventually.(there's some serious plot leading up) Needlessly romantic? Absolutely.
You stretched your arms out while simultaneously releasing yet another yawn. This was night two of staying up far later than planned, but insomnia had an unrelenting hold on you. Finally, it seemed it was losing its battle. Your eyes were heavy, your body the same as your yawns followed one after the other. A glass of water was all you needed, then you'd call it a night. You enjoyed the soft thud your feet made on the wooden floors, the usual pitter pattering muffled by a pair of fluffy socks you'd dawned. However, you were regretting your decision in not throwing on that pair of sweatpants before you came downstairs, it was rigidly cold, even indoors that night. Your oversized hoodie did little to protect you from the chill in the air.
You opened a cabinet, grabbed the first cup your hand landed on and brought it over to the filter in the sink. A sigh escaped you as you watched the little stream take it's sweet time filling it. Your foot had just begun to tap impatiently, it was so close to being filled, when a loud thump on the side door startled you. You dropped the cup, thankful that it landed in the sink, saving you from any mess. From where you stood, you couldn't see any movement out the little window on the door. You briefly regretted your decision not to turn on any lights as you stared, frozen in place waiting for any indication that someone was there. After a few moment's silence, the tightness in your chest dissipated and you let out the breath you'd been holding. Probably just a cat, you thought to yourself before you turned, foregoing your drink to retreat to the comfort of your room sooner rather than later. You hadn't even made it halfway up the stairs when yet another thud stopped you, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Your breath hitched and without thinking, you turned to scurry back downstairs, completely defenseless. In the shadows, you could just barely make out a figure. The only thing that was clearly visible, due to the faint gleam of moonlight, was his masked face. It was white, or it had been at some point and the eyes were two pitch black voids that seemed to be focused on the floor underneath his boots. As your eyes adjusted, you could make out a few more details, some that explained why he simply just stood there; he was injured. His hand, which was missing a couple of fingers and poorly bandaged, rested on his abdomen, clutching a wound that was still bleeding. His other hand seemed to be in just as bad a state, he'd broke the glass window with it to open the door from inside, rendering it bloodied as well. As he shakily lifted his head, those dark voids refocused their attention on you. You drew an uneasy breath, fearful of what he might do now that he'd discovered your presence. It felt like an eternity under his black gaze with only the sound of his uneven and ragged breath to break the dense silence that had settled in your kitchen, but finally something gave. He collapsed, you however stayed put for a moment more, unsure of what exactly you should do. The fact that he had a mask on wasn't entirely strange, it was Halloween after all, but he did break into your house. Perhaps he needed help? You could only hope that was his intention and he hadn't moved a muscle since he'd fallen, so with immense hesitation, you approached him. 'Intimidating' described him perfectly, even as he lay unconscious and face first on the ground. He wasn't a small man, not in the slightest. He must have been well over six feet tall from what you surmised, which meant he wouldn't be easy to move, but if you wanted to inspect his wounds you'd have to find a way. You tentatively placed a hand on his back, because if you were being honest, you weren't quite sure if he was even alive. He was, the soft whistle of breath through that mask of his and the subtle way his back rose and fell which each weak one he took confirmed that much.
"Fuck," you whispered as you contemplated how exactly you were going to turn him over, "you're not gonna make this easy on me, are you?"
You put all your strength into it and, after dropping him a few times, you managed to flip him over, "Sorry," you muttered after he'd landed on his back harder than expected.
You resisted the urge to study the face hidden behind the mask and focused your attention on his injuries, which were worse than you'd previously thought. Blood had turned the blue cloth he wore blacker than the eyes of his mask. You carefully pulled some of the fabric back to discover it was bullets than had torn through him. You winced at the sight, it wasn't something you'd be able to help much with, but you intended to do your best after at least calling for an ambulance. With that thought in mind, you stood to retrieve the first aid kit you never thought you'd have a use for and your cellphone. You wondered if he'd disappear while you had your back turned, half hoping he was simply a figment of your tired imagination, but when you returned he was still there and real as ever. You quickly dialed the emergency line, deciding to leave out the part that painted him as an intruder. You were still intent on not assuming the worst and he needed help, or so you thought. Once you hung up, you knelt down beside him again and carefully unzipped the coveralls he wore. You cursed yourself for blushing at the sight of his bare chest. He was older, the small patch of gray hair made that clear, but he didn't lack for definition despite his age. He was unreasonably built, something you fought to ignore but ultimately failed, hence the heat that had risen to your face. You gently pressed the rag to his wound and heard his breath falter at the sudden pressure, but he remained still as you cleaned him. You couldn't quite tell if he was awake, it didn't seem to matter how intently you studied those black holes, you couldn't see anything behind them to determine consciousness. But he was conscious and beyond disturbed at the predicament he found himself in, so much so that he hadn't a clue of what to do other than observe.
After you set the rag down, that mask had your full attention. The more you studied it, the more intrigued you became. It looked familiar, but you couldn't quite figure out why. You searched silently for a reason to justify what you were about to do as your hand moved closer to its edge. It would be easier for him to breathe without it on, you thought to yourself as your fingers grazed the rubber, but the moment you started to pull on it,  his hand flew up to grab yours. He sat up, but doubled over as soon as he did and his grip on your wrist tightened.
"No- I'm sorry. Don't move, okay? You're hurt," you said, stumbling over your words as he flinched away from your other hand that went to his shoulder to steady him, "I just thought it'd be easier to breathe without it."
Michael's consciousness was an effort to keep, but he was aware enough to have heard what you said and it left him more than confused. The house had been so dark, he assumed it was empty, a safe place for him to rest while he waited for his strength to return. He didn't expect to find you standing there and when he did he had every intention to slaughter you, but the bullets Laurie had put in him had stripped him of that opportunity. His head whipped around for his knife while you watched, assuming he was just confused and unaware of where exactly he'd passed out.
"An ambulance should be here soon. I got you cleaned up, but you're gonna need more help than I can offer," you said, forcing his attention back to you, "you should rest though, until they get here."
Without hesitation, he shot up, entirely ignoring your suggestion and the throbbing pain in his abdomen, "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?"
Your words had little effect on him, which you soon learned as you watched him stride towards the door he'd entered from. You quickly followed behind, baffling him further. Usually, it was him who did the chasing.
"You can wait here, you don't have to-"
Naive, he thought to himself. Naive and completely out of your depth is what he made of you, but perhaps that kindness you'd shown a monster like himself was exactly what had saved your life, for now at least. He had no choice but to leave you, he'd had more than enough run ins with the authorities for one Halloween night and he knew they'd arrive any minute. He found his knife by the door and bent down to retrieve it, which was what stopped any further words from leaving your mouth. Your abrupt silence gave him pause and he turned his head slightly to find the horror of realization painted on your face. Your eyes were focused on the blade in his hand that had been decorated in red. The moonlight allowed its gleam to inform you that it was no prop, it was as real as your own blood that had run cold in your veins. It was your breath that was shaky now.
"Who are you?" You whispered.
He left you without an answer and that was weeks ago. Wondering was exactly what Michael wanted you to do and unbeknownst to you, you played along so nicely. He hadn't gone far, in fact he'd returned several times to catch you immersing yourself in his story. The night he met you, you never slept. You sat in bed with a blanked wrapped tightly around you as you listened to the details of what the man who'd broken into your home had done, of what he was. The answers you received from headlines only raised more confusion within yourself, because your name wasn't on his long list of victims. He spared you and that fact had you torn. Part of you wanted to let it go, be grateful that the shadow of death had so kindly passed over you, but there was another part that desperately wanted to know why. That part of you brought on more questions, but ones about yourself, more specifically, your own self preservation, because you wanted him to return. Sure, maybe it was simply time that was to blame, you'd called the authorities and he was a killer. He had to flee to avoid capture, but they still hadn't gotten him, he was still loose and he hadn't come back to finish you off. From what you'd learned, no one crossed Michael Myers' path and lived to tell the tale, you were alone in that. You were the first he'd left completely unscathed and unattended to, or so you thought. But Michael hadn't left you alone, not at all. He kept quite a close eye on you and with questions of his own, because in leaving you alive to wonder, he'd confused himself. The more he studied you, the worse it got. At first, it was a game, the same one he always played. The kill was always more satisfying when he had a bit of history on the subject at hand, but learning about you had become problematic. He never waited this long to strike, but you had made him hesitate. Somehow, you'd gotten to him and he couldn't seem to rid himself of the memory of you touching him. Perhaps it was because no one had before, not so gently. They'd certainly never apologized for hurting him as you had when you tended to his wounds. You cared about his well-being, it mattered to you that night. Enough so that you went out of your way to save him. He would have survived without your assistance, but it was the thought that counted, you thought about him in a way that no one ever had before. Now, you searched for him, unabashedly. He knew you weren't just gazing out of your window for the sake of it, you wanted to find him. He wondered if you a had a sixth sense, because he was always there, hidden in the shadows your eyes wandered to after the street lights turned on. You'd even begun to leave it open once you'd gone to bed, something that really piqued his curiosity. What would you do if he found his way in, what would you do if he gave you what you wanted and showed himself? Would you run or would he find himself in a situation in which he was the one who was out of his depth? Michael had gone his entire adult life without worrying about such things and he hated that finally, he'd been caught in such a trap. He wanted to hate you for it, but when you appeared in your window again and locked eyes with him in the darkness without even knowing it, he couldn't. He wanted to find one, just one single flaw that he could latch onto, but he couldn't and it ate at him. You were perfect, infuriatingly so. The way you moved haunted him in the most unexpected of ways and you were so young, so full of life that he should have wanted to drain, but death was so far removed from what he wanted to give you. His brow furrowed underneath his tattered mask as he contemplated it, because in truth, he hadn't a clue what exactly it was he wanted from you, he just knew it was you that he wanted and it was driving him to madness, to discomfort he'd never felt in all his life.
You disappeared from his view, retreating into shadows yourself once you decided he wasn't there. That was when he began to move unconsciously towards the door he'd entered through before. His heart pounded within his chest as he drew closer, unsure of what he would do once he was face to face with you again, but he needed to be, there was no question about that any longer. More than that, he needed to know what you would do, if you were different from the rest and if you could give him rest from the turmoil you'd caused within his mind, body and if he had one, soul. The house was dark, just as it had been the first time he arrived, only now, the door was unlocked. An invitation, he thought to himself with further intrigue. You did want him there, you must have, because who in their right mind left their house open for entry with a killer on the loose? He ought to teach you a lesson, but then again, no one was more of a threat than he was and he didn't intend to leave you unattended. If you wanted to leave your doors unlocked, so be it, but he would be your only visitor if he got his way and really, didn't he always?
His hand glided along the kitchen counter as he steadily made his way to the stairs, pausing at the bottom to study the stream of light that bathed the blackened hallway above in an eerie orange glow. His head tilted when it went out, leaving you entrapped in darkness. The sixth sense he suspected you had only became more prominent, he breathed easier without light to touch him and you had turned it off. Further invitation, of course, so he took the first step, then another. The faint creak of the wooden boards didn't seem to alert you to his presence, the light stayed absent and he appeared in your doorway to find you settled in bed. Sleep hadn't found you yet, but he had and you stirred when you felt the unease brought about by an unknown gaze lingering on your body. At first, the shadows all but consumed him, then his figure became clearly visible. Just an outline, tall and broad, but you recognized him.
Slowly, you propped yourself up with eyes that were wide open. You wanted this, but now he was here and you hadn't a clue of what to do, or what he would do. Words escaped you, but you didn't fear his silence this time nor the deafening hum that sat heavily between the two of you. It was energy, an unspoken desire to be near to each other was what it was, you knew that now without a doubt in your mind. He'd come back, just as you hoped he would, but for what purpose and why was it you had wanted him to?
Your legs slid off the side of the bed until your bare toes met the cold wooden floor below. He'd yet to move, so you tested the limits of what he would allow. His eyes, unseen, studied those carefully made movements closely. There was no distance to dull your actions anymore and he soaked each one in as he watched you stand, fascinated. He didn't have to hear it to know your heart was racing within your much smaller frame, you were prey approaching a predator, but it wasn't fear he found in your curious eyes, it was awe. As if he was just as unreal to you as you were him. His head lowered with his gaze, because now you truly were face to face. Your neck in turn craned up as you listened to that familiar whistle of breath through his mask.
"Michael," you whispered up at him.
He rushed forward so abruptly you didn't even have time to scream. He backed you against the wall, but didn't touch you, not right away. He simply stood there, shoulders heaving, head down in front of you. His breath was uneven and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides as if it was an arduous struggle to withhold himself.
But from what? You thought as you stood there silently searching for the answer you'd clearly die to retrieve. He didn't have his knife, at least not within his grasp or reach. His hands were his only weapons and he hadn't even used those on you, not in the way you had expected. Your hands remained at your side, unmoving and his gaze dipped to one. His breath evened as he studied it contemplatively, his shoulders stilled and he seemed puzzled, or so you assumed. Hesitantly, he reached for one. His fingers grazed your skin, slowly grappling for more purchase. Finally, he hooked one of them with yours and brought it to the other. He brought it up and you watched, confused as he traced the lines on your palm that were visible to him in the moonlight. The cool glow even allowed you to catch a glimpse of those eyes you'd searched for the last time he was in your home. One was an eerie, milky white, left without sight from one of the many wounds he'd gathered throughout the years. The other was the lightest of blue, icy in color, but there was warmth hidden somewhere inside that fought through as he allowed himself to fall prey to your touch once more. It was his choice this time, he was very aware as he pressed his palm to yours. Delicate and dangerous were the only two words that came to Michael's mind, because though you couldn't overpower him physically, he felt weakened in ways more damning than bodily wounds.
"Why are you here?"
Your whispered words did little to distract him from the dilemma he held in his hands. If anything, he should have been asking you that question. Why were you stillhere, allowing him to dive further into obsession, destroying everything he knew to be true about himself with just the tips of your fingers? It was cruel and unjust that someone like yourself, someone so small and seemingly insignificant held such power over him. It was infuriating, maddening and he wondered if you knew as his eyes met yours only to melt further. You didn't look away, no, instead you matched his intensity with brows that were furrowed in curiosity. That uncomfortable pounding in his chest returned and what he could only assume was rage forced his breath to quicken again, but then you intertwined your fingers with his, which made everything stop all at once.
"Are you going to kill me?"
The answer to that question was what frightened him most. Without warning, he ripped his hand from yours along with his gaze and turned to disappear down the hallway. It was an unforgivable mistake on his part to return to you, that much was certain, because no, he wasn't going to kill you. In fact, the encounter hadn't given him a single answer as to what he wanted with you, it only worsened his confusion and brought about doubt of himself. Perhaps he did have a weakness, a living, breathing one. He needed to escape it, kill whatever it was inside of him that betrayed him so wickedly. Your footsteps behind him made him grit his teeth as he strode through the door he'd left open to leave you to the night, but your hand found his wrist before he could vanish.
"Wait," you demanded.
The sudden and unwelcome contact forced his instinct back to the surface and before you could blink, you were forced back into your kitchen with a hand around your neck. The wind was knocked out of you when your back hit the counter and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid that perhaps you'd finally crossed that thin line you'd been treading on since the moment you met him, but his grip didn't tighten. He watched you brace yourself and in turn, crumbled at the sight. Prey, he thought to himself, you were supposed to look just as you were with his hand around your throat. You were supposed to be frightened, you were supposed to beg for your life and yet, when your trembling hands met his wrist, it was the last thing he wanted you to do. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear you beg, he did, but he wasn't quite sure what for as he had you pinned with his own body pressed against you. He'd seen this dance before, but it wasn't one he ever bothered to learn. Human touch such as this for Michael only ended death, he'd never been forced to consider any other use for his hands. He thought back to his own worries earlier that night and realized he was indeed out of his depth, just as he was afraid he would be. He had you exactly where he wanted you, but what now? His head canted to the side as he watched your chest rise and fall in quick succession. Your eyes were still glued shut, anticipating death, but death had a different idea. The safety of darkness still surrounded the two of you and with your eyes refusing to open, Michael lifted his mask up. You felt his fingers brush your jaw and inch their way into your hair to hold the back of you head, then you felt something else. A kiss was what he gave you, gentle and inexperienced, but in his softness you received the answer you'd searched so diligently for. He lingered there for a moment, stunned by his own actions and more so when you returned them. You kept your hands on his wrist and kept them still, aware that this was his limit, this was all he could handle for the time being, but you guided him in your wordless response. Your lips pressed firmer against him, you moved slowly, but deepened it with each press. His hand began to tangle in your locks, clenching as his mind screamed for release, for violence. It was an effort to fight off those instincts, but he did so valiantly just for a few more moments of this, of softness, of you. You carefully lifted your hand to place it over his, which still rested at the back of your head, fingers knitted tightly in your hair. He relented, just slightly, but when you let out that soft sigh, it was too much. It was too intimate and just like that, his lips left you as did his hand. When you opened your eyes you were alone, as if his touch had simply been a dream all along. The only evidence of reality was the door, which he'd left ajar to leave you with nothing but the sound of wind to fill his absence.
Questions were what he'd left the first time, but now, it was frustration that consumed you in his wake. You'd gotten an answer, in a sense. He didn't want to kill you, he wanted you and you kept it safely hidden within the walls of your pericardium that he wasn't alone in his desire. He left you wanting, wishing and waiting for a killer to return and finish what he'd started, for him to claim you as his own. The mere thought had you unraveling, because what on earth was wrong with you? Why had you allowed such a thing to happen in the first place? Why did you kiss him? More importantly, why did you love every second of it? His lack of experience hadn't dulled the sensations he forced upon you, if anything it enhanced them. Haddonfield's reaper had chosen you and spared you the scythe for a kiss, one you couldn't seem to stop from popping into your mind at the most inconvenient times. It haunted you and it stripped you of each and every one of the morals you thought you'd had, based on one simple fact; you wanted more. However, this time months passed and you were forced to find ways to pluck him from your mind, which meant when a coworker called you up to ask if you'd like to go to dinner, you said yes. Of course, putting an end to the fantasy of Michael wasn't quite as simple as it sounded. Dinner was spent with your head on a swivel, half paranoid he'd find you and be less than pleased, half hoping he would and save you from the drab conversation you'd allowed yourself to endure for the sake of distraction. You were right to think he'd be watching and safe to say 'less than pleased' was an understatement. Jealousy was something Michael wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. In fact, he was convinced he really was starting to hate you for bringing so many emotions he didn't understand to the surface. Torture was clearly what you intended to put him through, but that was something he was well versed in and as he watched you kiss your date goodnight, he made a decision. You were indeed going to learn your lesson and if it ended in death, well, that would be your price for causing him such agony, because he didn't expect to behave gently after watching someone else's hands, someone else's lips touch what was his.
You kept your smile in place as you politely waved goodbye, but once the taillights disappeared you allowed it to fall with a groan and quickly wiped your mouth. Your date's enthusiasm for you was beyond unreciprocated, but you'd play the part well, perhaps too well. Hopefully he wouldn't call, you thought to yourself as you strolled up the walkway to your front door. You let out a sigh when you realized you'd forgotten to leave the porch light on and you had about a million keys to sift through in total darkness, of course. To make an already annoying night worse, you tripped. You managed to catch yourself, but the keys hadn't been so lucky. You bent down to retrieve them, cursing under your breath as you stood back up. You fumbled with them a moment more before finally pushing the key into the lock, but that was about as far as you got. You hadn't even heard footsteps to alert you to his presence, but suddenly, you found yourself pushed face first against the door and before you could let out a scream, a hand covered your mouth. It was familiar, the missing fingers were a dead give away. His other went to yours and forced you to turn the key. Why he'd even bothered unlocking it was a mystery, because he promptly turned you around and threw you over his shoulder before he broke the door open with brute force. Struggling was no use, he had a vice grip on your hips as he strode through the threshold with purposeful steps only to drop you on the counter.
"What the hell is your deal with me?" You spat out before you could stop yourself.
But before you even had time to regret your choice in tone, his hand was around your neck. That gentle grip he once had was lost and replaced with a menacing one that took your breath away. Your hands wrapped around his wrist with rage of your own at this cat and mouse game he was playing with you.
"M-Michael," you stuttered out with a pained expression, "whatever you're gonna do, just do it already."
You worried you'd come to regret that statement when he pushed you back on the cool marble with such force it made your head spin. His hand momentarily abandoned it's hold on you and you pushed yourself up just slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. The blue you'd once seen in his left one had turned dark, his pupil was overblown to erase any color, but it wasn't death you saw in that eerie gleam. Far from it. A different instinct had taken over and he knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He quickly reached behind you and brandished a knife from the block on your counter. His movement's were hurried, frantic even as he tugged you forward by your hips so his waist rested between your legs. Then, he raised the knife up and you braced yourself. You must have mistaken that darkness in his eyes, it must have been bloodlust, you thought to yourself, but when he plunged it down it wasn't your flesh that tore. He'd taken it to your jeans, cutting them just enough so that when he tossed the knife behind you and grabbed each side of the fabric with his hands, he was able to rip them clean off of you. He didn't need the blade to remove the rest and now you were almost entirely exposed to him, save the top you silently resented him for destroying next. It looked expensive, Michael thought with a smirk behind his mask, but it looked much better torn to pieces. He was almost as unkind to his own clothes, he tugged the zipper of his coveralls down with such force the metal came loose and fell to the floor, leaving him free of any further confinement. You didn't even have time to glance down before he tossed on of your legs over his shoulder, pushed the other one to the side and plunged into you so deeply you feared you'd be ripped in two, just like your jeans. He allowed you no time to adjust, or catch your breath before he set an inhuman pace, one arm wrapped tightly around the leg over his shoulder and the other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to draw blood with his fingernails. He was silent, frighteningly so, while you failed to do the same. In fact, it seemed he was hell bent on making you scream, because once he found one particular spot that made your eyes roll back and your mouth hang open, he never left it. He managed to hit it each and every time he pushed into you and he relished in those gasps that quickly turned to wanton cries. Pain mingled with pleasure in a dizzying manner and you tried desperately to reach for him, to find anything to steady yourself on, but it was useless. He wanted to see you struggle and you were doing it perfectly, but if you wanted stability, he'd allow some. He stopped abruptly, bottoming out and drawing a pitiful whine from your open mouth so he could hook his fingers over your bottom teeth. With his thumb under your chin and his index and middle lodged in your mouth, he pulled you up by your jaw, the pain dulled by the overwhelming pleasure he'd pummeled your nearly limp body with. He brought you close, your half lidded eyes struggled to stay open as he lifted the bottom half of his mask up with his other hand and pressed his lips to your ear.
"Mine," he growled, low and harshly.
His breath fell hot over your bare neck, causing the ache between your legs to peak, begging for him to continue, but instead of giving you what you wanted right away, he pulled back and left you empty to readjust his mask. You whined, reaching for him before he grabbed your shoulders and turned you. He bent you over the counter and forced himself back inside of you while his hand snaked around your throat. He lifted you back up so that your back was pressed hard against his chest and the mouth of his mask was back at your ear.
"Say it," he breathed as he thrusted forward, slow but forceful.
You'd barely registered that he'd spoken the first time and now, with him buried so deeply inside of you, your cognizance was long gone. Each time he moved he seemed to go deeper, fully aware of the torture he was delivering in forcing you to hang on the edge of your orgasm. He could feel your body tensing around him, he knew you were dangerously close. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you struggled to form the response he desired.
"Yours," you whispered, but that didn't seem to satisfy him.
He thrusted harder, driving your body upwards. When your hand went to steady yourself on the counter, he grabbed it and held it tightly behind your back while the other squeezed your neck until you felt light as air. He grit his teeth, fighting off his own orgasm for the sake of punishing you further.
"Say it," he repeated with malice.
You were right there, so close to release that your mouth simply couldn't stay shut, but it wasn't breath you were so desperate for. You held it, brows furrowed in a mix of pain and pleasure so brutal you weren't entirely sure you'd survive another thrust. You felt his teeth at your neck, biting down as he let out a groan. It appeared he was in torment too, desperate in his own right to find release inside of you. His voice had driven you to madness, but those breathy moans he couldn't seem to hold in any longer were what sent you over the edge and that only made his struggle to maintain control harder. Your body pulsed so deliciously around him. You were tight enough to begin with, but now? It was too much and his head dipped lower in the crook of your neck to nip at your shoulder as his hips began to tremble from the exerted effort to keep his pace controlled. Not yet, not until he heard you say it.
"Michael," you gasped with your eyes wide open, though between the lack of oxygen and the intensity of pleasure, all you saw was white, "I'm yours, all yours. I'm yours."
Your whispered promises never stopped, they fell from your lips like little prayers and they had him spiraling. His ragged breath and the way each of his hands gripped you tighter and tighter should have broken you, but you clung to what little air he allowed for more of him. He'd long abandoned that slow, meticulous pace to chase his own high with a vengeance. His hand left your wrist and he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flush against him when he found release. He bent forward, panting underneath his mask as he pressed you against the marble countertop.
"Yours," he heard you continue whispering and he loosened his grip on your neck.
He stayed like that for awhile, still buried deep within you and baffled by the entire ordeal, but you were so warm. No part of him wanted to separate from you or leave those little whispers behind. You felt his thumb absentmindedly brushing circles over your jaw and you supposed that must have been what brought you back to total consciousness, but you stayed still, afraid that if you moved he'd leave. His sudden softness was unexpected given the brutality he'd just displayed, but you found yourself melting into it. Between the exhaustion that had settled into your bones and the delirium that filled your head, those rough, calloused hands of his were exactly what you needed to bring you back down to earth with grace. He too was warm and you couldn't help but press your cheek into his palm, which caused his brow to furrow behind his mask. When his head withdrew from the crook of your neck, you let out a weak moan in protest, but he continued his departure from you in silence.
"Michael," he heard you mutter softly as he struggled through his own haze to gather himself.
He paused to observe your wrecked state. You still hadn't moved a muscle and he wasn't entirely sure you could even if you wanted to. He'd annihilated you, had you for his own and he should leave now. Right?
"Please don't leave me," you whispered.
You didn't expect him to oblige your simple request, you knew he'd already far surpassed his limits. You were killing him, he thought to himself and in such a strange way. It was instinct you'd stolen along with something else he supposed he did have after all, because as he watched you try and fail to push yourself up, it skipped a beat. He was aware he could blame it on age or his usual pent up fury, but he knew that would be a lie. It was you. You were both a curse and a cure to the quietus that possessed him, a plague upon the heart he once thought had lost it's rhythm to violence. It was mercy you'd infected him with when you touched him, when you healed him and mercy was something so foreign to Michael, but for you, he supposed he could try to give you his own version. You hadn't the energy to even feel surprise when he took you into his arms, but you had just enough left to smile as you rested your cheek against his chest. Perhaps he'd be gone when you woke or maybe he'd stay. Either way, you were Michael's. Or was it the other way around?
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steddie making out for the first time and it’s just so wet and slow and sloppy.
they whimper and whine into each others mouths and drink it all down like summer sunshine and spun sugar.
time stands still. steve licks around the edges of eddie’s mouth. it’s messy and barely lucid. would be totally gross if he was kissing the wrong person.
but he’s not.
he’s kissing eddie who was born of the same stardust and matter and gruesome things that he was.
matching scars traced by gentle fingertips like maps to a forbidden place. they have fought the same wars. bled the same awful shades of violent red.
eddie chases him in this fun and dangerous way.
finds steve’s ruddy lips in the dark and shines soft light into him as he tangles a hand into his hair and cradles him like something precious.
it could be hours or days or months or entire millennia before they break apart to stare at the mess they’ve made.
the spit slicking their chins. the hickeys pressed like vintage stamps to their throats. the rumpled t-shirts discarded in a pile.
‘i love you,’ eddie whispers without thinking and spits into steve’s mouth in deep adoration, ‘i’m sorry if that’s the wrong thing to say.’
steve swallows. tastes ambrosia and old smoke. he smiles softly. upturned gaze landing on eddie’s eyes.
‘kiss me like that forever and i’ll promise to love you too.’
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midnights-dragon · 6 months
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I think Crowley would accidentally fall asleep on Aziraphale sometimes and I think that Aziraphale trying to get up and move for whatever reason would go something like this:
“Nnrgh,” Crowley protested in a low mumble as Aziraphale shifted, his grip tightening weakly around Aziraphale’s middle. “Don’ go,” he ordered bossily, his words slurred. “Warm.”
Aziraphale chucked a little despite himself, settling back down, his cheeks glowing. “I’m warm, hm?”
“Mhrm,” Crowley agreed.
“You are silly,” Aziraphale responded fondly, beginning to stroke a hand absentmindedly through Crowley’s hair without even fully registering what he was doing. The demon, still half-asleep, pressed against his touch, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest.
“Not,” came his muffled protest. “Not ssssilly.” Crowley’s hiss was pronounced, a sign of his tiredness. “I’m evil. Very evil, me.”
“Yes, dear,” Aziraphale resigned. He carded his fingers through Crowley’s hair, still smiling, surrendering himself to his fate of being a heating pad for his lovely serpent. “Very scary demon, you are.”
“Mhm,” Crowley mumbled, before curling around Aziraphale and promptly falling back to sleep, one hand hooked around the angel’s middle, his face pressed into his chest. Aziraphale looked down at him, his heart seizing, and gently hugged him close.
“You are silly,” he whispered, sparing a single kiss to the demon’s smoothed forehead. “And I love you.”
And even in his sleep, Crowley smiled as he felt the warmth of the angel’s love wrapping around him like the softest blanket, casting over him like the warmest strike of sun through clouds.
Love you too, angel.
Note: this is a full fic now!
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peetaslefttoe · 11 months
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i NEED🫵🏽 you to write about peeta using a vibrator on female reader ASAP😭 hes just watching the reader beg for him and then he finally touches her and its SOOOOOOO🙏🏽☹️ i want him so bad man🥲💔
warnings: vibrator alert 🤭 p in v smut
summary: request above
author’s note: arghhh i love this idea, i want him so bad 😭😔
Masterlist pinned xx
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You lay on your bed, legs spread, vibrator buzzing between you legs as you whimpered. Suddenly the door was flung open and Peeta walked in.
“I thought I heard your sweet whimpers, couldn’t wait for me to get home could ya?” he asked smugly and he walked towards the bed.
“I-uh,” you muttered.
“Shh let me help you baby,” he whispered, sliding the vibrator from your grasp. He moved between you legs spreading your folds with his free hand.
“You’re fucking soaked, you that needy for me?” he smirked down at you.
“Please Peeta please I need you,” he pressed the vibrator firmly to your swollen clit, you shook with pleasure at the sudden sensation, gripping onto his strong forearms.
“Peeettaaa, please I need you inside me,”
“Awww is my poor baby gonna beg for this cock?” he looked down at you with puppy eyes, mocking you as you thrashed on the bed.
“Yes yes yes, please Peeta I’m begging you, please,” you whined, bucking up against the vibrator.
“Ah ah, need you to tell me what you need sweet girl,” he held the vibrator firmly despite your squirming
“Please Peeta, please fuck me,” you whimpered, gasping for breath.
“That’s my girl, so desperate for me,” he unbuttoned his pants with his free hand, still holding you down with the toy. He pulled out his thick, throbbing dick, pumping it a few times with a groan.
“Tell me how it feels while I fuck you,” he growled, spreading your dripping lips and sliding the tip into your tight hole.
“Oh god! Yes!” you nearly screamed, grasping onto him as his filled you slowly. The mix of the vibrator buzzing against your needy clit with his cock soaked in your juices and buried deep inside you made your eyes roll back.
“Eyes on me sweetheart,” Peeta said, lifting your chin and looking into your eyes as he rammed into you.
“You feel so good, so good- filling me up, want you to fuck me harder,” you moaned out, the sound of your wet pussy filled the room.
“There she is,” he smiled at you before forcefully pulling your hips into his and bucking wildly into you. You were a moaning mess, grabbing his hair and running your hands up and down his muscled back. Your pleasure rushed over you suddenly, the vibrators rolling over your sweet spot as Peeta drilled into you. You screamed his name as you came, your slick running down his cock as he fucked you through it.
“That’s my girl, so good for me,” he grunted as he came deep in your throbbing cunt. He kissed your gently, stroking your hair and bringing you both down from your highs.
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cynosfunnyjokes · 6 months
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kinktober day 2
characters: kaveh, reader
relationship: kaveh x reader
theme: bathroom sex
notes: i don’t have much to say about this one tbh. i reaaaaaally need to stop procrastinating lmao. no pronouns used for reader, but reader is afab! MINORS DNI. 18+ CONTENT.
word count: 1723
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after a long day of commissions from the adventurer’s guild, the only thing on your mind was going home to your loving boyfriend and showering. the second sounded absolutely amazing considering the dirt and grime caked onto your body and clothes.
the front door was already unlocked, signaling that he was home- a surprise that was more than welcome. usually, you were home first- were you that late?
locking the door after shuffling inside, you kicked off your dirtied shoes and dropped the heavy bag from your shoulder to the floor with a small ‘thump’, the sound echoing through the house.
“love?” kaveh’s voice called out and not even a moment later, his blond head poked out from the living room to peer into the kitchen. his red eyes lit up upon seeing you and he smiled, walking over to wrap you into a tight embrace, “you’re late..” he murmured, looking down at you.
giving a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh, you wrapped your arms around his waist, “sorry, kav. picked up some extra commissions that katherine had.”
he smiled, “you’re always too selfless-“ his hand raised, thumb rubbing along the scabbed over cut on your cheek, blood and mud caking it, “i just wanna put you in a bubble most of the time.”
“i’d still find a way to cause a ruckus or injure myself.” you laughed, blinking up at the blond, “now, i reaaaaally want to shower.”
“i can tell.” kaveh said with a teasing tone, thumb still stroking your cheek as his other hand held your waist, “mind if i join?”
a common request that you never usually turn down.
“if you want to.” you shrugged with a smile before slipping from his arms to grab his hand, fingers lacing together.
getting into the bathroom, you started to strip after turning on the water, steam filling the room.
kaveh let out a teasing whistle, shamelessly watching the little show in front of him, “i feel like i fall more and more in love with you every day.”
“even when i’m covered in mud and look like a mess?” you asked with a small laugh, raising an eyebrow.
“especially then.” he confirmed without missing a beat.
after stripping fully, you hopped into the shower and allowed the hot water to run along your sore muscles, the water turning a dark color from the dirt and sweat as it ran down the drain.
it didn’t take kaveh long before he followed suit, taking his place behind you. with delicate hands that fit an architect, he helped wash your hair and the mud from your body, and in return, you did the same for him.
resting his hands on your waist, he smiled down at you, “i missed you.” he murmured, placing a soft kiss on your lips, “it was boring being home before you.”
“i’m flattered.” you laughed teasingly, arms wrapping around kaveh’s neck, “i missed you as well.”
a comfortable silence fell between the two of you, the water hitting your back and dripping to the floor of the bathtub. turning to face the stream, your back now faced kaveh.
not wasting a second, he hugged you from behind, arms curling almost possessively around your waist, “you look cute..” he murmured, placing soft kisses to the base of your neck. one of his hands snaked down to between your legs, teasingly rubbing at your bundle of nerves.
“kaveh-“ you gasped out, hands gripping at his wrists yet not stopping him. the stimulation was making your legs tremble as he teasingly slid his fingers along your wet folds, collecting the juices to swirl around your clit.
“yes?” he asked, feigning innocence. his achingly hard cock pressed to the curve of your ass, drawing a soft noise from his throat when you ground back slightly.
your soft noises only egged him to continue his movements, slowly moving to dip his finger into your weeping cunt. first one, then two and three- when he added the fourth, you were nothing but a quivering mess in front of him. if it wasn’t for his sturdy hold around your waist, you surely would’ve collapsed from your trembling legs.
“kaveh-“ you moaned out, rolling your hips unconsciously against his hand as he fingered you with fervor, drawing you closer and closer to an orgasm, “‘m c-close-“
placing a soft kiss on the base of your neck, kaveh hummed, “go ahead and let go for me, love.” he whispered, fingers speeding up while his thumb started to rub at your puffy clit again.
with a pleasured cry, you came hard on his fingers, body growing tense. he continued to finger you, but slower to help you down from your high- only stopping to pull them out and replace them with his aching cock.
“are you ready?” he asked, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. his hands held you in place, your upper half-pressed to the tile of the wall in the bathtub.
“yes-“ came your shaky response followed by a nod, “please, kav-“ eyes wide and pleading, you peeked at the blond over your shoulder.
without wasting a moment longer, he sheathed his hard length inside you in one swift move, drawing a moan from your throat. he groaned softly, teeth nipping at the skin of your neck.
the sound of slapping skin and running water filled the room, kaveh’s pace immediately picking up and becoming brutal. one of his hands grasped at your thigh, pulling it slightly for a better angle to drive his cock into your weeping cunt, drawing even more noises from your pretty lips.
the delicious feeling of his hard length drawing along your gummy walls had you clenching around him, breathy moans leaving you, “k-kav-“ you gasped out, forehead pressing to the tile of the wall, “i-i’m-“
any other words were cut off as you came again, legs growing weak from the intense pleasure that only seemed to increase as he fucked you through your orgasm, hips snapping even faster.
“so.. tight-“ kaveh grunted as he felt your tight walls clench around his cock.
a small whine left your lips when he suddenly pulled out but any protest died off when he turned you around to face him, your back now pressed against the wall.
attaching his lips to yours in a deep kiss, he repositioned his hard length at your drooling cunt, teasingly rubbing it along your folds before dipping in again to return to the same pace as before.
kaveh’s hands found their homes at the back of your thighs as he lifted you slightly to get a better angle, his thrusts becoming deep and fast.
“kaveh!” you moaned out, arms wrapped around the blond’s neck. shallow crescent-shaped indents formed on his back from your nails as they dug into his skin, but he ignored the sting in favor of the feeling of your walls clenching perfectly around him.
“‘s too much-“ you whined out, overstimulation zapping at your body. he softly shushed you, placing tender kisses against your lips, cheeks, neck- anything to distract you.
“it’s okay, love.” he managed out around a few breathy moans of his own, “jus’ one more. can you do that for me?” his words were slightly slurred as he panted, lips attaching to your neck again.
nodding slightly, you clenched around him again, small moans leaving you as he continued to pound into your abused and puffy hole. a white ring was forming around the base of his cock, the sight only managing to turn him on even more as his hips moved faster than ever.
“close, ‘m c-close-“ you whined out, nails digging into kaveh’s back, “too much- ‘s too much-“ any other words became incoherent, but he could swear he heard the soft call of his name.
“shhh, shhh..” he cooed softly, hands digging into the soft skin of your thighs as he held you up, “just let go, mmkay? let go for me..”
a few more thrusts from him had you cumming again on his cock, a loud moan leaving you as your head tipped back, mouth falling open.
the sight of you squirting had kaveh moaning softly, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he slammed into you a few more times before burying his cock as deep as he could. not even a moment later, thick white ropes of his cum filled your drooling cunt and he groaned, forehead resting against your chest as you both tried to catch your breaths.
“are you okay?” kaveh asked a few moments later, gently pulling out to inspect for any damage or issues- he was always so caring afterward.
giving a small nod, your arms still wrapped around his neck. seeing as your boyfriend was the only thing keeping you standing, there was no point in letting go.
he smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before cleaning up the new mess that coated your lower bodies. globs of his cum dripped out of your puffy hole and he bit his bottom lip at the sight, eyes flickering back up to your face.
if it wasn’t for the exhausted look, he would’ve gone for a few more rounds. but he could tell just how tired you were, so he swallowed his thoughts and helped clean you up before assisting you out of the shower.
his hands gently worked the towel through your wet hair and down your overexerted body to collect any water before slipping one of his shirts and a pair of panties and shorts onto you.
he dried himself off and slipped his own clothes on before helping you to the bedroom, being gentle the entire time. kaveh mindlessly chatted the entire time, whispering small words of praise or sweet nothings.
settling you onto the bed, he joined immediately and cuddled you close under the blankets.
“g’night, kav..” you murmured with a yawn, burying your face against his chest. he smiled and ran a hand through your damp hair before pressing a kiss to your forehead, “love you…”
his heart fluttered at your words and sleepy voice, a smile forming on his lips as he pulled you closer, “i love you too. get some rest.”
the room soon filled with comfortable silence and the soft sound of breathing as you both fell asleep, embraced in each other's arms.
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smninthisworldd · 8 months
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- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ Babysitter next door ; König x fem!OC ❜┊˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
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okay so i know this is short af, but i just needed this chapter to be kind of a prologue, explaining what would happen, and i needed to build up the relationships between characters. i promise it’ll get SO much better (trust me pls)
❝SUMMARY: König is a busy man, always working… but he must provide for his little daughter, his precious Ella. He cares deeply for her, she’s the most important person in his life. König decides to hire, as a babysitter, the only person he can trust in his neighborhood: Jasmine. He knows she’s busy with college, but he also knows that she won’t let him down, and will take great care of his Ella.❞
❝PAIRINGS AND WARNINGS: König x fem!OC, slow burn kinda, age gap (König is older than the OC), little bit of angst & fluff, friends to ?, growing feelings for each other. LATER ON: NSFW. I’ll put more details on the NSFW chapter.❞
w.c: 1720 ; part 1/?
MASTERLIST NEXT CHAPTER
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A knock on the door at 10pm wasn’t really usual for Jasmine. She lived alone in a small apartment, the only one she could afford due to her poor job at the cafe down the street. She needed it, though, to afford college.
She moved in her apartment two months ago, and immediately made it hers: it was Jasmine’s now, a cozy and welcoming place, just like her warm and kind personality.
And, two months ago, she met her closest neighbors: König and his daughter, Ella. Jasmine bonded quite immediately with them, and Ella seemed to like her a lot.
Jasmine was studying when she had to stand up from the table and reach the door. She had her hair tied up in a messy bun, her glasses on the bridge of her nose, and wore an old oversized t-shirt. She opened the door, and to her surprise…
«König!» she smiled, quite surprised to see him. Jasmine could tell he just got home from work: he was still wearing his military camo pants and a tight black t-shirt. He probably had time just to take off his vest and his mask, and his hair looked a bit messy, while his face and arms were slightly covered in dirt. «How are you?»
The corners of König’s lips curled into a slight and soft smile, given Jasmine’s kindness. «I’m okay, Jasmine. Can i come in?» he asked, his voice calm and deep as his gaze fell on her body. He looked at her up and down, taking in her pretty appearance, though messy and drained from all her studying.
Jasmine nodded, moving to the side to let König in. His boots made some loud thuds at every step he took, while Jasmine closed the door and turned to him. «Sorry for the mess…» she chuckled lightly, referring to her laptop and her books all over the table.
«You were studying, I see.» König smiled reassuringly. «Don’t worry.»
He kept looking at her for a bit, admiring her messy hair and noticing how her glasses complimented her eyes.
Jasmine looked at him curiously, taking notice that he wasn’t with his daughter. «Where’s Ella?» she asked softly.
«She’s… with her mom.» König answered, a bit hesitantly, his smile dropping and his voice turning a bit more serious. «I’ll pick her up tomorrow.»
Jasmine knew that Ella’s parents weren’t together anymore, but she never asked what happened, or why. She respected their privacy. «Oh, I understand.»
«Speaking of Ella, I wanted to ask you a favor…»
König’s words took Jas by surprise, not expecting that. «Sure. What is it?»
«You know I’m busy with work… and I have a very important mission this weekend.» König explained. «I know you’re very busy, too… but I was wondering if you could babysit her this weekend?» he asked. «I will obviously return the favor.»
«Oh, no need for that!» Jasmine interrupted him. «I will gladly stay with Ella.»
König sighed of relief, smiling at the young girl in front of him. «Thanks, Jas. It means a lot to me.»
Jasmine smiled warmly at him, and listened as König spoke to her: «Since I’ll be out for two days, you can sleep at my place. I’d feel better if you did, so Ella won’t be alone. You can sleep in my room.»
As he mentioned his room, Jasmine raised her brows in surprise. Yes, they knew each other, they were neighbors and friends… but it took Jas by surprise that he was giving her permission to sleep in his room. In his bed.
«Ella usually goes to sleep around 9:30 pm, you shouldn’t have problems with that.» he added. «She likes Disney movies, playing dolls, her favorite color is purple… but i think you know how to deal with it.» he joked.
Jasmine chuckled, «She’ll be in good hands, I promise.»
«I know that.» König smiled. «I’ll text you tomorrow when I’ll bring her here, so you can come see her and I’ll leave for work. Is that okay to you?»
She nodded, smiling warmly.
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The next day, Jasmine woke up to a text from König. “Good morning, Jas. Ella’s home, we’ll eat lunch together. Wanna join?”
She gulped in surprise, she wasn’t expecting it. But she obviously accepted.
The outfit she decided to wear consisted of a pretty purple skirt - Ella’s favorite color - and a simple white top. It was quite a hot day of summer, so that outfit was just perfect.
After Jas got dressed, she knocked on König’s door and was welcomed by him wearing some of Ella’s purple hair clips, with flowers and stars adorning his hair.
«Ella wanted me to look pretty because you were joining.» he quickly explained with a straight face.
Jasmine chuckled at the sight of the 39 years old soldier wearing his daughter’s hair clips. How adorable. «You do look pretty.» she joked.
König laughed with her, welcoming Jas in. «I know.» he said, as Jasmine walked in and he couldn’t help but look down toward her skirt, and notice how it exposed those pretty legs of hers.
As soon as Ella saw her, the little girl gasped and ran toward her, hugging her waist tightly. «Hi Jasmine!» she squealed with enthusiasm.
«Hello, princess.» she greeted Ella caressing her hair. Jas then turned to look at König, before looking around to notice the mess in the kitchen. «What were you cooking?»
«Wiener schnitzels. Ella loves them.» he answered, returning to fry the cutlets on the pan. Jasmine knew this type of schnitzel was a traditional Austrian dish, but she’s never ate it. So she was excited to try.
She watched as König cooked the veal cutlets, chatting with his 9 years old girl in the meantime.
But Jas was too focused on looking at him, how the sunlight hit his sharp jawline and cheekbone, his forehead glistening a bit from the sweat of that hot day, despite the air conditioning was on. She watched his expert hands handling the pan and the utensils, the vein on his hands and arms visible and evident.
Jas took a deep breath, shaking those thoughts off her mind, refocusing on her chat with Ella: «…and so I chose to wear the glittery purple dress for my birthday.»
«That’s great, Ella. I’m sure you’ll look like a princess!»
«That’s the theme of the party! Did you forget already?» Ella giggled, thinking Jasmine didn’t hear it or something.
Ella told her already, but Jas was too focused on those thoughts about her dad. She felt guilty in that moment, of her attraction to König. «Right! I’m sorry, Ella, I didn’t hear that.» she chuckled, hiding the truth.
«Lunch’s ready!» König then announced, giving the schnitzel to Ella first, and then to Jasmine.
«Finally!» Ella exclaimed, grabbing fork and knife to cut the schnitzel and eat it. She hummed and closed her eyes when she tasted it, her favorite dish. «Es ist erstaunlich, daddy (it’s amazing, daddy)!»
When Ella spoke German, Jas turned to look at her in surprise, a smile on her face. Given her father’s origins, it was obvious she knew some German. But hearing it was a whole different story!
Jas decided to finally eat her schnitzel, too, and when she did, she had to compliment König as well. It was perfectly cooked, and the veal was delicious. «It’s so good! I’ve never eaten it before!»
König smiled at both of the girls in front of him, feeling proud of himself. «Danke, Mädels (thanks, girls). I’m glad you like it.»
The three of them had a great time having lunch together, chatting and laughing the whole time. Ella’s feisty energy was contagious, and König loved that of his daughter. She was such a happy and sweet girl, and everyone around her felt affected from her positive energy.
As they all ate their meals, it was time for König to go to work. He sighed as he stood up from the table, cleaning up before Jas interrupted him. «Leave it to me.» she smiled, allowing him to properly greet his precious girl.
«Thank you, Jas.» he smiled before walking past her and toward his daughter. He picked her up and she hugged him tightly when she realized he was leaving, closing her eyes.
«Promise you’ll be home soon, Papa?» she whispered, but it was still audible for Jas as well, even though she tried giving them as much privacy as they needed.
«I promise I’ll be back before you know it, Ella.» he reassured her, kissing the top of her head. «Be good for Jasmine, okay?»
His little girl nodded with a soft “Mhm!” added to it. Jasmine smiled hearing that conversation, feeling her heart melt for how sweet König was with Ella, and viceversa.
König then placed a hand on Jasmine’s shoulder, and she turned to look up in his eyes, Ella still in his arms. «Thanks again, Jas. For everything.» he smiled warmly at her. «If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me.»
Jasmine smiled back at him, nodding at his words and followed him toward the door. He bent to let Ella down, and as he grabbed the keys, she hugged his leg - since he was extremely tall for her - and said: «Ich liebe dich, Papa (i love you, dad).»
«Ich liebe dich auch, Ella (i love you too, Ella).» he replied, caressing her hair and crouching down to kiss her forehead.
Jasmine looked at them with a heartfelt smile, her heart melting for Ella. It must be so difficult for her, she thought, having her dad working as a soldier… But she could tell Ella loved König deeply, and admired him a lot.
As König left, Ella let out a sigh and turned to Jasmine. She grabbed her hand and smiled, looking up in her eyes. After a moment of silence, Ella spoke: «Can we watch Tangled, Jas?» she widened her eyes at the babysitter. «Please?»
Jasmine was taken aback from the sudden change in her demeanor, but it was understandable that she searched for a distraction now. A way to let the time fly, not to think of her dad being away from home.
«Of course.» Jasmine replied with a warm smile, while the two of them walked toward the couch and searched for Disney’s Tangled.
~ smninthisworldd ; please do not copy.
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