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themidnightcrimson · 2 months

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good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.

words: 3.9k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.

Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.

The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.

Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.

The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.

It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.

Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.

And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.

And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.

But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.

Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.

Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.

You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.

It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.

It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.

So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.

The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.

Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.

Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.

Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.

There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.

Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.

She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.

Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.

Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.

Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.

As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.

It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.

There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.

“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.

Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.

The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.

A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.

Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.

Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.

You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.

Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.

“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.

You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.

“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.

Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.

You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.

“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.

“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”

Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.

“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”

Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”

“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”

Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.

The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.

After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.

“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.

Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”

Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #marvel #lgbt #lesbian #top!wanda #power bottom #subby top wanda #sub top wanda #elizabeth olsen #lizzie olsen #wanda maximoff x f!reader

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florencemtrash · 1 month

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Eighteen

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Nothing super specific, but things get pretty dark (at least in my opinion). Mentions of torture.

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Azriel grabbed Rhys by the front of his jacket, hands shaking horribly despite all his efforts to stop. It had started this morning, when another disastrous attempt to talk to Andrian had left Azriel with his mind in shambles, knife pressed against his own throat. It had been going on for weeks now. Someway, somehow, Andrian would find a way to break through Azriel’s defenses and force him to relieve his worst memories. Sometimes he dreamt of his burning hands. Mostly he thought of you, and the day he’d nearly killed you.

“Tell me you didn’t,” Azriel growled desperately. “Tell me!”

It was too easy for him to pick out when his brother was speaking with Feyre, and something about the way Rhysand had been looking at him— like he was a fraction of a second away from splintering into a million pieces — told Azriel enough about who had been sent for. You were the only one who could calm him. The only one who could do what he and Rhys had failed to do.

Violet eyes shone from a perfectly handsome face. A face he knew too well. A face that he wanted to punch right now.

“I’m afraid I can’t, brother,” Rhysand responded gravely.

Azriel slammed his fist against the wall instead, taking out a chunk of granite that spit grey dust into the air. He swore beneath his breath, pacing the hallway and trying to steady his racing heart. He’d never wanted you to see this place. He’d never even wanted you to step foot on the island above, its rolling peaks a stark contrast to the tunnels below where Azriel conducted his business. Business that stained his hands a thousand shades of red.

“You’ve been working yourself ragged, Az, and Andrian still hasn’t said anything. Not to you. Not to me. We need to know all we can about Koschei. Vassa’s on the brink of madness. Henna’s dead. I can’t even get past Andrian’s mental wards. What the fuck are we meant to do?”

“So you thought to go behind my back and bring Y/n into this?! She’s not something for you to use, Rhys.”

“She’s already in this mess.” Rhys reminded him, as he often did. His eyes softened as he looked to the locked door at the end of the hall with its small, rectangular window. Bars breaking up the lamplight glowing from within. “And you know she’d agree this is the best course of action. She’ll be able to do it.”

Azriel’s hands shook. “Give me another week and I’ll get us the information we need. Tell Feyre to turn around. Don’t bring Y/n here.” Don’t let her see this part of me.

“The boy doesn’t have another week. He doesn’t even have a day.”

The shaking traveled throughout Azriel’s entire body. His eyes darkened and he began the process of hiding his heart away within the void that curled inside of him. That wicked beast that was always on the verge of swallowing him whole.

Feyre winnowed you both to the outskirts of the northern territories and you went from sweating in your fur-lined leathers to shivering in the knee deep snow. The Illyrian Mountains rose behind you like predatorial rows of shark teeth and the endless sea stretched in front, slate grey and empty except for lonely ripples of sea foam. Through the frosty haze you could make out a smattering of islands, each with their own tooth-like tips capped with snow and ice. Feyre looked at you, her eyes leaning more towards blue now that she’d tapped into the Winter Court’s power to stave off the cold.

The Warren was protected by wards that made winnowing impossible, so you let Feyre scoop you up in her powerful arms, wings growing from her back like unfurling shadows before the ground dropped away from her feet and she took off into the sky.

You clung to her shoulders, eyes slamming shut so you wouldn’t have to look down at the churning black waters and the rocks they crashed against. If you were to fall now, you could only hope you drown before the waves ripped your body to pieces against the rocks like meat torn between a pair of canines.

You stayed frozen and tight as a coil until the rush of wind stopped and you no longer felt your stomach creeping up into your throat. You could have dropped to your knees and kissed the ground if you weren’t sure your lips would freeze there. You did shove your hands into the gritty sand though, breathing slowly through your nose until you finally had the strength to stand.

Feyre led you down the long stretch of beach, waves whistling in the wind — a haunting, beautiful melody, like a woman crying.

Azriel had discovered The Warren centuries ago. After a particularly brutal brawl that had left him with a broken arm and cracked ribs, he’d taken to the skies, desperate to escape the hard packed floors and burning scent of sex mixed with alcohol that seemed to invade every corner of the Windhaven barracks. He’d been fighting over a woman, a woman that had been dragged into the rowdy common room trembling with the telltale sign of a whisky haze over her burnt umber eyes, dress ripped and muddy.

Did it even matter that he’d brought her back untouched to that leaning house with its wooden slabs frosted over and the chimney coughing up black smoke like a diseased lung? Azriel had wondered as he flew without a destination in mind. And when he’d finally collapsed on the island, frozen ground beneath his hands and knees and spitting out blood from his cut up gums, his shadows had tugged him towards the gaping mouth of The Warren, urging him to explore a darkness that was his and his alone. It had been his escape. A safe place in the world that had so few. But when Rhysand became High Lord and he the Spymaster, Azriel hadn’t hesitated to give up The Warren in the service of the Night Court, adding it to the long list of sacrifices he made so that he might actually start to feel like he deserved his place with his family.

You stilled in front of The Warren’s entrance, black walls glittering and damp from sea spray. Jagged, cracked bone rocks hovered overhead like axes ready to fall, jutting out of a cliffside and curling over the beach in the shape of a hunched back or an unhinged jaw. Wind whistled from within like asthma — high-pitched and keening.

“This is where you keep all your prisoners.” You weren’t asking a question, merely stating a fact.

Feyre had had little time for explanations back at the House. She’d focused on defending your body against the frigid cold to come, her mind split between you and Rhysand as he worried over Azriel from miles away.

“Not all of them. Only the ones Azriel finds useful.”

“The ones he plans to torture for information.”

From somewhere deep within the earth you swore you heard the clanging of chains, a growl, and a desperate groan that had the hair on your neck rising.

Feyre’s usual warmth was gone, replaced by something with more tact and less care. “This isn’t a place for the faint of heart, Y/n. And neither is Azriel. He’s tried to hide this from you, but it’s as much a part of him as anything else and if you care for him as much as I believe you do, you’re going to need to get used to this.”

There was the faintest flicker of doubt in your heart. “Andrian… he’s just a boy… you haven’t—Az hasn’t—”

“No,” Feyre said quickly. Horrified. “Azriel found him weeks ago trying to slip back into Day Court. We brought him here because it’s the most heavily warded place in Prythian and because the world needs to be protected from him as much as he needs to be protected from the world.” She grabbed your hands. They felt cold as ice. “Y/n. I swear to you, we haven’t hurt that boy. We won’t hurt him.”

“I know. I just… I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking.” Already you felt sick to your stomach just for asking. Azriel was many things — dangerous, cruel to those he felt were deserving of it, maybe even murderous at times — but he was still Az… and you weren’t afraid. Not even as you let Feyre lead you into The Warren, and you were swallowed whole.

The mouth of the cave quickly narrowed into a tunnel before turning at a severe angle and twisting like a corkscrew downward. If it weren’t for you and Feyre’s glowing bodies, you might have missed one of The Warren’s slick steps and tumbled down forever.

You passed by two offshoots, each branching out into their own secret tunnels that whispered and echoed and smelled faintly of blood. Coppery and sour.

One of the rooms you walked through smelled like metal and limestone. The rust-colored ground and drain in the center of the floor told you all you needed to know about its purpose and before you could stop yourself, before you could even think about whether this was truly a good idea, you found yourself pressing a hand against one of the chains hanging from the ceiling.

If Feyre was right and this was truly a part of Azriel — something horrible that needed to come with all of the good that he was — then you wanted to know. You felt that you had some right to know, and if it was the power the Mother had granted you, then you would use it when you saw fit.

Feyre froze when your power flooded the room without warning, feeling the energy and fury radiating off your skin without even turning to look at you. You kept the memories a safe distance away, but drank in the knowledge of every horrible hand that had hung from that ceiling like you were reading a list of names from a book. You read their crimes. You read every drop of blood that Azriel had spilled on the ground.

“Y/n?” Feyre asked tentatively, fearfully, when you blinked and released the chain.

She had every hope the bond would snap in place for you soon and that you’d help end Azriel’s centuries of loneliness. That you might be the one to finally show him he was deserving of kindness. But to love Azriel as he was, with all his rough edges and the pain he could inflict as much as he carried… it was not for the faint of heart.

“I understand why Azriel wanted to hide this place from me. This part of him,” you said quietly and to no one in particular. Not even to Feyre. “But he shouldn’t have.” Your eyes turned harder than stone. “They deserved it. Each and every one of them.”

Feyre stood, shocked into silence, and it wasn’t until you gripped her arm and nudged her into the next room that she found she was able to walk again.

You passed by more hallways and more rooms, some disturbingly clean and empty, others with chains hanging from the ceiling or littered on the floor. But the strangest part was, you could smell Azriel within these cramped walls, and that alone made you quicken your steps.

You chased that familiar scent, walking confidently through the dark and passing Feyre until you were spit out in a long, neat tunnel with one metal door at the end. Tendrils of shadow flickered from around the corner.

“Azriel?”

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw him leaning against the wall, hands folded behind his back. Rhys’s eyes flickered to you, then to his mate as she followed closely behind. Azriel stiffened, his eyes locked and heavy. Shadows tugged at his eyes and accentuated the sharpness of his cheeks. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the day he left you… which wasn’t so far from the truth. Because the whole time he’d been here, he’d been thinking of you, and the ways you might hate him for what he did and the sick corners of his soul. For—

You sailed into his arms, wrapping yourself around his torso and pressing your face into the hollow of his neck. Part of your mind chastised you, calling you silly and desperate as it reminded you it had only been ten days since you’d last seen him. But you didn’t care. It felt far longer than that. Too long.

You needed this almost as much as he did.

You disappeared behind his wings, cocooned safely in membranous folds and shadows that kissed your skin. Azriel himself buried his face in your hair, feeling some of his worst worries dissipate. You hadn’t run away. You hadn’t been so disgusted as to leave just yet.

“Y/n,” he murmured your name before kissing your temple. “Gods, I missed you.”

“I would hope so.” You murmured into the curve of his jaw, “I might be a boring bookworm but I’m better company than this place.”

Azriel winced. “You have no idea.”

You missed the pointed look that Rhys and Feyre threw your way, but Azriel didn’t. He was tall enough to see over your head as Feyre pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, eyes glistening. They had come here for a purpose, and the sooner it was over with, the sooner they could all go home.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “I didn’t want you to come here. I didn’t want… I didn’t want you to see the things I do.”

“I know.” You traced the curve of his jaw, thumb smoothing over his cheek. “But I’m not afraid, Azriel.”

His eyes flickered from fear to relief to love, like one of those picture books you had to flip through to see the scene play out.

“You’re not?”

You shook your head no. Then you kissed him on the lips and whispered the words for him and him alone. “I trust you. You’re the most terrifying thing here anyway, and you’re mine.”

Yours.

Azriel quitel liked the sound of that.

Even here in the dungeons burrowed beneath empty frozen lands, Azriel found it within him to hope. Horrid creatures might be hidden elsewhere, creeping like slugs under the earth that he’d have to crush beneath his boot or tear treasured secrets from, but for now you were still by his side. For now you were still his and he would always be yours.

You looped your arm through his and moved towards that door at the end of the hallway, steeling yourself for what you already knew was behind it.

The light from the barred window flashed warm and cool then warm again. Light warped and pranced. The scent of rot hung in the air, humid and choking. You touched the door handle, feeling the magic fall away like it recognized you and opened up into a makeshift, but quaint bedroom. There were no windows here for there was nothing to see below ground, but some of Feyre’s landscape paintings hung on the wall. Faelights bloomed overhead, throwing light and heat on a child’s bed with green sheets, a table, and a bookcase overflowing with an assortment of puzzles and novels and toys. You felt your blood turn cold. They’d once belonged to Nyx before being repurposed for the little boy trembling on the floor.

You stared at him in horror.

The little boy who’d been so violently bright that morning in the marketplace was dull. Although he was wearing fresh clothes, his skin had turned a stone gray, black marks dotting his once silken, silver skin like a disease. He was aware of his condition, weeping on the plush rug cut in the shape of a flower as he batted at his arms, willing them to turn healthy again.

“No no no no no no,” he sobbed. He grabbed at his pillowy hair in frustration and tugged. A cloud of fragile strands came away and he cried harder, trying to stick them back to his scalp.

Rhysand’s face was broken and pale. He tried not to look at Andrian. He was too young. Reminded him too much of his own son.

“You were right.” Rhysand’s voice was hollow, laced with a pain that grabbed your throat and squeezed. “Koschei did kill him. He’s been dead this whole time.”

“NO!” Andrian screamed. “HE DIDN’T! HE PROTECTED ME!”

Fat tears rolled out of filmy eyes, dusty and brown as pond water. Rage filled him with new energy and he tried to attack your mind as he’d already done with Azriel. But there was something altogether different about your magic, something flexible that morphed and rearranged your mental walls until it felt like he was trying to attack himself.

He gave up when your walls didn’t fall, and chose the physical route instead. You recoiled as he took a swipe, bony arms reaching out in an awkward lunge. But his legs were too weak and crumpled beneath him. He looked like a fish laid out to rot on a summer day — bloated and slick.

“Koschei brought him back to life for his powers—”

“HE LOVES ME! PAPA LOVES ME!”

“To use as he saw fit when the time was right.”

“But he can’t survive being separated for so long from Koschei’s power, can he?”

Just like Vassa. Left on their own without their maker they couldn’t handle the curses that had been placed on them. They’d bend until they broke… unless they found another way…

“The killings,” You murmured as the pieces slowly fell into place, “He killed those Librarians and the tailor and the florist…” You didn’t want to be right about this. You prayed to the Mother that you were wrong.

But Azriel read the thoughts in your eyes and nodded. Feyre could only stand still and Rhysand couldn’t do more than speak out in that dead voice of his.

Andrian had killed those fae, not just to send a message, but because that was the price for going against nature, for being brought back from the dead. Power demanded balance. To stay alive, Andrian had needed others to take his place. Those Librarians and the Velarians hadn’t been murdered. They’d been sacrificed.

What Koschei had done to this boy — what he’d turned him into — made you want to crawl into a dark corner and stay there forever.

Andrian’s sobs died out. A crack of lightning followed by unnerving silence that had Azriel’s blood freezing in his veins. Andrian wasn’t much older than he’d been when he’d first been tossed into that dark cellar. When his brothers had set his hands aflame.

“He loves me,” he declared, as if saying it would make it true. He stayed curled up in a ball on the floor, rocking back and forth on his heels. “He stayed when Henna left me. He wasn’t afraid of me like the others. He took care of me.”

But Koschei hadn’t taken care of him. He’d taught Andrian to love him. To worship him, because that’s what he craved above all else. He’d helped the boy control his powers and had allowed him to live so he could send him off to die when it was most convenient. You’d thought Henna was Koschei’s perfect soldier, but you were wrong. Andrian was. He’d been broken and molded into something that should never have existed. He’d been sent to Prythian after his sister’s death to take her place. A boy who would have no choice but to return to the lake or die trying.

And he was dying. You could see it clear as day. Two teeth clinked onto the floor and Andrian’s hands flew up to his mouth. He whimpered, eyes locking on you like you might be able to fix this.

You wanted to beg Rhys and Feyre to do something, to fix him, but it was a useless endeavor. They wouldn’t have brought you here if they could just reach into Andrian’s mind and end it all peacefully. Andrian was too powerful for that. But you could use another way.

You approached him like a wild, injured animal, grimacing when he tried to run at you only for his ankle to twist and then snap. He fell to the floor in a pathetic sprawl.

“Hey there, little feather.”

Andrian paused at that familiar nickname, watery eyes looking up. You said it just like Henna had once upon a time. The same inflection in a differently pitched voice. His lips trembled.

“She left me.”

You shook your head before kneeling on the ground in front of him. He smelled of death. It clung to his linen shirt and trousers. It clung to the few strands of hair still woven into his scalp, skin so thin you could make out his skull.

“She didn’t leave you, Andrian.” You poured your voice out over him, as soothing as you could make it, forcing the tears down. “She thought you’d died and that you’d stayed dead. She had a little ceremony for you out near the willow tree and buried your favorite toy beneath it with a handful of water lilies. Do you remember it? The little wooden doll you dressed up like a soldier with the red cap and the silver shoes?”

He clamped his hands over his ears, shaking his head while his weak neck teetered dangerously atop his shoulders.

“Andrian—” You pulled his hands away and in a bold, dangerous move brought them to your temple and slowly lowered your mental wards. You didn’t give him free reign, but rather guided him through snippets of memories you’d taken from Henna before her death. They all revolved around him. Before, and even after Koschei had poisoned their minds, Andrian had remained her true priority.

The boy’s eyes flashed from anger to confusion then, finally, to despair.

“She didn’t leave you.”

Andrian waited a few moments that had your heart seizing, then rushed into your arms, tightening them like a vice around your shoulders and burying his face in your hair. You held your breath, but tightened your grip. You weren’t his sister, but you were the closest thing he had.

Slowly, like sand falling through an hourglass, you felt his arms weaken and fall from your shoulders. He stared at you, wide and terrified as his hand snapped off at the wrist and fell to your side in a grey heap.

“Make it stop. Please make it stop.”

You smoothed back his hair, shoving down the tears that threatened to fall. His eyes were white now and unseeing. “It’s ok, little feather. It’s ok.”

“I don’t—” Even his voice was crumbling apart. Raspy and broken like cracked glass. He had little time left. The fight in him gone. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to go to that dark place. Please don’t make me go.”

Azriel had been watching the entire time, trying not to picture the little boy with dark hair, weak wings, and bandaged hands. He went so, so still.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok. It’s going to be ok.” You promised. You forced your trembling lips into a smile.

He took in a rasping breath. “Will you go with me this time, Henna? Please.”

You gritted your teeth, brows furrowed in an effort to stay here instead of turning and sprinting back to the surface.

“I will. That’s why I came” You brushed his hair away from his forehead, saying nothing when the wispy white strands were torn away from his scalp like silk… just like the memories of Koschei’s lake you plucked from his mind without him knowing. You swallowed the pain of what you knew was coming. “I won’t let you be alone.”

He went quiet after that. Maybe his voice had deteriorated beyond saving, maybe he finally felt at peace. All you knew is that you needed to keep brushing his hair and holding onto his hand when he laid down and placed his head in your lap. He was like a little windup doll that had run out of string. He kept breathing until he finally stopped.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

So... this was a rather sad one, bit of a tonal shift if you ask me, but I wanted to wrap up the stuff with Henna and Andrian before we continue on to other things.

BUT, you have to appreciate when Y/n walks into what's effectively a torture chamber and goes "yeah, nope, still in love with Azriel." It's just one of those things that gets brushed under the rug but like... this guy's WHOLE JOB is inflicting pain upon people.... and you know what, it's a fantasy book, so who the hell cares. We stan Y/n being supportive of Azriel's career lol

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel shadowsinger

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brewed-pangolin · 4 months

Text

Soap Cuddling Headcanons

This was an ask I received forever ago, then tumblr decided to eat it because I don't know. Apologies for this taking soooo long.

18+ MDNI Sexual Themes

SFW and NFSW below the cut because why the hell not.

Soap loves to cuddle for one reason and one reason only: touch

He's touch starved. He craves it. Begs for it. Yearns for it when he's half a world away with you always creeping around in the back of his mind

And when he's home, he can barely think of letting you out of arms reach

It was a bit overwhelming st first, to have him always so close and needing so much physical affection

You didn't push him away, but you did have to maintain some personal space at the beginnings of your relationship

But that all changed after his first lengthy deployment

On those long, lonely nights. Reaching out to him and feeling nothing but cold emptiness beside you in the bed

That's where you fell into his spell and began to yearn and ache for his touch just as desperately as he did

SFW

It doesn't matter what you're doing, if you're within arms reach, your going to be wrapped up by him

Cooking? Yup. He'll have his hands on your hips while comfortably resting his chin on your shoulder

He'll whisper soft, culinary praises into your ear while he watches intently, following your fingers as they diligently move across the cutting board

"Smellin' good, hen. Be a shame if ya had t'waste any, yeah?" And you fell for it. Every single time

Don't be surprised if those hands on your hips begin to wander. It's nearly impossible for them to stay in one place for too long

Loves to wrap his arms around you during the weekend late movie nights

Will intentionally put on horror or suspense movies just so you'll scoot closer, and he can hold you tightly against him while you tremble in his arms

But where this cuddle monster truly shines is in bed (and not just after a romp)

He'll cling to you in the morning, arms wrapped around your torso and his face nestled unto the curve of your shoulders

Big spoon. Little spoon. He doesn't care. As long as his skin is touching yours, he's happy

Will prolong mornings the first few days back home, willing to push aside responsibilities and spend the entire day in bed

Netflix and Chill Extraordinaire

But Cuddling isn't only sanctioned for the bedroom

Soap is a romantic at heart, and he'll whisk you away to his favorite outlook up in the mountains in his 4Runner

Just to build a fort of blankets and pillows in the back and watch the sunset like a true Casanova

And movie nights are best under the stars at your local drive-in

Nestled deep within in his arms as you leave the world behind to enjoy each other's comforting embrace (and loads of overly butterd popcorn)

NSFW

Soap MacTavish is the absolute KING of aftercare, especially after your more vigorous and enthusiastic sessions

He'll keep you close, wrapped within his muscular arms, and pressed against his sweat drenched torso as you ride out the last waves of your climax

"So good f'me, lass. Ya did so good." He'll whisper, voice muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck

He's in no rush after a lengthy romp. You need 15 minutes? 30 minutes? Two hours? Soap's not going anywhere

Except to get the towels. He knows he makes a mess, and your legs are currently jelly after your umpteenth orgasm

But if you already planned on having an earth-shattering sexcapade, the towels are already on the nightstand because...

Cockwarming

Soap can't help it. He loves being buried to the hilt deep inside you

Especially when he softens and your walls continually pulse and milk every last drop of him

And you pull the most beautifully pornographic whimpers from his lips

"Fuckin' hell, bonnie. You an' that greedy lil cunt a'yers.."

And as previously stated, he's in no rush to pull out.

In fact, he may just fall asleep.

His arms caging you tightly against him as he drifts into a restful slumber with his cock sheathed snuggly within your silkened heat

@deadbranch @sofasoap @d3athtr4psworld @punishmepunisher @homicidal-slvt @glitterypirateduck @obligatoryghoststare @jynxmirage @mykneeshurt @shotmrmiller @astraluminaaa @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @kkaaaagt @designateddeadend

#super soap sunday #Soap Squad™️#soap cuddling headcanons #Soft!Soap™️#johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #cod soap #call of duty #cod

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forever--darling · 1 year

Text

na’viyä hapxì — one of the people | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: you have your ceremony to become apart of the clan after finally telling kiri everything that's been going on. neteyam is forced to deal with his feelings as he realizes he might be losing you to someone else.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 11.9k (I have no self-control at this point. seriously I still have a part or two left to write)

warnings/notes: i am so sorry, slow burn continues, swearing, major angst, fighting, mention of blood, mention of sky people, forest destruction, confrontation of feelings, a smidge of fluff but not much, one step closer to the end

series masterlist | one of us: part five | requests are currently open for now

This was supposed to be the start of your new life but all you could think about at that second was how Lo’ak was gripping your face and saying all of the things that somehow left the opposite feeling in your stomach than it should have. Maybe because it was Lo’ak saying it or maybe it was the fact that he was admitting that he would settle for you. It made you cringe, the wording, the confession that he would rather settle for you than anyone else. It made you want to completely claw at the insides of your brain, hoping that if desperate enough and boiling with an unmistakable rage, you could rip the memory free from your mind.

No one should ever want to settle for anyone and it left you trying to swallow the knot inside your throat. Even if it had come from a good place with the intention to give two lonely people the possibility of a future, the delivery was cruel. To top it off, you were late, the sun had completely set over the mountain, leaving the sky in total darkness. The freckles upon Lo’ak’s nose and forehead were glowing, taking your attention, appearing similar to the stars above as his once sun-kissed eyes lazily trace your face.

That’s all you could think about as your Ikran landed in the base of the village, his landing next to yours a second later. His eyes were too much like his brother's and it was grueling. If you focused on them long enough, it was like it was Neteyam there instead of Lo'ak. But then you were reminded of the look in them, something unmatched and desolate. There was a certain glint within his olive-green irises that was missing as if when he stared down at you there was an emptiness deep within the confines and walls of his chest.

As soon as your feet landed on the ground, you were desperate to escape, an appalling pull in your stomach as you took off towards the center of the village. You felt the pounding in your head ultimately increase as all air was pulled from your lungs at the sight of the village. So many people. The whole clan in fact gathered, waiting. Waiting for you. Deep breath in. Then out.

It was nauseating how many people were there and almost annoying how close you could feel Lo'ak walking behind you. As if his presence was trying to remind you of his words all over again. His words felt like they were squeezing your heart in its palm sickeningly watching as the organ withered in its grip.

Approaching the large old tree that hovered over the village almost like Home Tree once did, your steps faltered as you found Kiri standing outside, her arms crossed over her chest and toe-tapping against the dirt. Your steps increased, desperation forming for her to see her brother lurching on your back and your sanity and remove him instantly.

When her eyes met yours, she was pushing herself up off the side of the tree and hurried towards you in slight disbelief but then when she found Lo’ak behind you, she could only roll her eyes, “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hi, Kiri,” Lo’ak replied sweetly, waving his hand with a chester-like grin on his face.

“Oh shut it, I should have known she wouldn’t have been late to her own ceremony unless someone else was involved,” she shot daggers at her brother and wondered how much it would take for him to collapse overcome by his sister's indisputable irritation.

Kiri's hand tightly took a hold of your arm beginning to lead you into the hollowed-out tree, the fragrance of oak and amber brought a tickle to the base of your nose, “And you, we have to start getting you ready.”

“Oh relax, we made it didn’t we?"

Lo'ak's tone sliced through the air and you felt the disbelief warp around your insides and tighten. They felt as if they were boiling, hot from his obliviousness to the situation. Because even if he was trying to do something sweet, his reasoning behind it all was so wrong. You decided to ignore him and his sister seemed to do the same as she began to fiddle with the ends of your hair. His stare was just as empty as it had been the hour before

You looked away, instead hoping to find solace or an ounce of reassurance in your surroundings, within the tree filled with candles, tapestries, beads, everything that could be certified as sacred. You had never been inside before and you found yourself admiring it rather than his blank stare.

Hearing the way his mouth parted like a gaping fish in water, you felt your shoulders stiffen. Out of fear that he was about to spill the soul-wrenching words you had yet to even process yourself. The last thing you could deal with was him spouting them out proudly like an idiot to someone else as if he had already claimed you.

Luckily, before he could say anything or reveal the sour secrets of your life, his voice shrunk back into his throat and his ears flattened softly at something else entirely. A chuckle verberated from your lips as you peered over to find the exact cause of Lo'ak's silence.

His father. Jake Sully stood near the doorway, his hands balanced on his hips, dressed as if displaying power was his only goal on this planet. A look filled his eye that you had come to know extremely well as if he was forcefully trying to draw everyone's attention and completely intimidate his youngest son.

“Hey Dad,” Lo’ak waved timidly, gulping as Jake approached him and firmly took a hold of his shoulder.

“Outside, now,” Jake commanded, voice cutting through the room, leaving a silence that was deafening. He couldn't look away from Lo'ak with an undermined idea that the teenager would have vanished from his sight if he did. Not sparing anyone a glance, he dragged Lo'ak out of the room.

Kiri acting as if it hadn't happened began to undo the braids in your hair. With the two of you left alone, you had a feeling her silence was only temporary. With her fingers loosening around the third one, you felt her grip disappear. You sighed, somehow guilt of your own crawling up out of your throat even though you weren’t entirely sure what you were guilty of.

The possibilities could have been endless at that point. Guilt had formed because of too many far-fetched reasons that were tightly wound up in your head. Could it have appeared, because you were spending more time with your best friend's brothers rather than giving her a second of your time? Or was it because of the unmistakable fear of the reality outside of your Pandora bubble — the ignored sickness of your human body? Or worst of all could this guilt eating away at you be from the less-than-innocent desire that had taken over you for her older brother — the one man you knew you could never have?

“Kiri, whatever it is just ask?” you said suddenly, taking in a deep breath, “Please.”

She continued with your hair but this time let her thoughts fall freely off her tongue, “What was that all about? Showing up late to your own ceremony? And with Lo’ak. Really?”

You sighed, the frustration was evident in your voice, and somehow you found yourself nervous to tell her of the conversation that you had had with him, “It was nothing out of the ordinary.”

“So, he was just trying to flirt with you. That’s all it was?” she asked, cautiously, her fingers carding through your hair gently unable to look away from the way your thumbs were fiddling with one another in your lap, “I thought you were immune to his advances. You haven’t fallen for it have you?”

Your answer was without hesitation, “Of course not.”

“Then what is going on?” Kiri’s hands suddenly dropped from your hair and turned you around to face her. It was as if she could hear through Eywa that something was plaguing your heart. Like something had been affecting you for a while and she just hadn’t seen any of the signs. “Look, I know my brothers have been occupying all of your time lately, but that doesn’t mean I still don’t care about you. And if something is bothering you, I want to be able to help.”

Taking in a deep breath, you exhaled, gold eyes suddenly meeting hers with a certain unsureness laced within yours. Your hands were almost shaking as every anxiety you thought you had shoved far away seemed to resurface.

She suddenly took both of your hands in hers, eyes wide and lips curled softly into a small smile, her expression reflecting comfort back at you, “Y/N, just tell me.”

“Tonight,” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat as everything came racing back to you, “After we had been flying, we stopped on this mountain and… Lo’ak, he asked me if I wanted to be his mate.”

Her mouth parted in shock, a small noise of disapproval seemed to fall from them as her eyes widened even further, “He what?”

“He asked me to—”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” she cut you off, her mouth closing and then dropping open again, “But he is too young to even be…”

As her voice trailed off, you nodded agreeing with her words. Lo’ak was only seventeen and Neytiri and Jake had made it perfectly clear to their children that they advised them to wait until they were eighteen before making plans. Wait until they decided on a mate, plus in Lo’ak’s case, he wasn’t sure if the decision was even his. If Neteyam didn’t have the choice, why would he? Sure, for his older brother Olo’eyktan was at stake but their parents’ decision was safer in their eyes than letting their young adult sons make the choice for themselves. He had automatically assumed that if Neteyam wouldn’t have the option neither would he.

“And tonight he asked you to…”

All breath left her again and her shock was smacked across her face displaying perfectly how you had felt too when it had happened. You nodded again, “Yes.”

“But wait,” she squeezed your hands, “He knows better. We all know that our mother has clearly stated that it isn’t allowed, at least not while you are still a dream walker. Why would he even… Y/N?”

You watched slowly as the confusion had overtaken her face and just as quickly left as she spoke out loud, trying to wrap her head around this occurrence. Within a matter of seconds, she realized that Lo’ak would not have openly asked you this unless there was a way this would be allowed. She knew her brother and despite him having broken many rules in the past, she also knew that for something this serious he would be more considerate. In fact something as serious as mates, he would not decide rationally.

“What would lead Lo’ak to ask this?”

“Maybe the fact that,” your voice was unsteady, pausing just as the truth was tiptoeing across your tongue, “He knew I went and visited Mo’at. And that I asked her about the consciousness transfer.”

“You did what?” her voice had hardened, turning cold as her hands had seemed to slip out of yours possibly out of shock, disappointment, or both. The exact reaction you were expecting. “Y/N!”

She shook her head, the fear of one of two outcomes appearing in her mind. You do the ritual and somehow pass through Eywa's eyes and be reborn or you do the ritual and have your presence accepted to be with The Great Mother forever. It was the latter that filled Kiri with the worst possible fear. However, this wasn't the first time this situation had crossed her mind — you admitting that you wanted to do the consciousness transfer to become one of them.

It was a possibility that had been living in her mind far longer than anyone could realize. Since the moment she had first seen you in your avatar body. It was the glimmer in your eye, this type of glow that seemed to surround you that none of them had ever seen before. It was there that very first night; in your smile, your clumsy steps, eyes constantly searching to absorb every part of the forest you saw. As you spent more time in the forest, in the village, with her people, with Neteyam, Kiri realized that the glow around your head only seemed to increase. She was afraid that this could happen, but she never thought it would. Almost as if she relied on your intelligence and common sense to distract you from the alluring double life you were currently living.

“What were you thinking?” Kiri found her voice, and the betrayal and pain heard in it seemed to crack not only your spirits but a part of your soul, “Y/N, you know how dangerous the transfer is and how rarely it even is successful. Eywa is very careful when it comes to requests and she is far more complex than you realize.”

“I know Kiri,” you admitted, bowing your head as if you were a child being scolded.

“Really? Because I think if you truly understood that. If Neteyam had made any of it perfectly clear to you, or if you had listened to anything we’ve been telling you for the last seven years you wouldn’t have put in that request to Mo’at.”

“No, Kiri, you don’t understand. It didn’t matter what you or anyone else said to me, I still would have gone to Mo’at and requested the transfer ritual.”

“Why?” her brows knitted together, the word sounded so spiteful on her tongue and it was foreign in her own ears.

She had never talked this way to anyone, let alone you, her best friend all throughout childhood. Somehow though she knew kindness was sometimes for the weak of heart and her feelings in that moment were completely justified. Led by the thought of possibly losing you had activated every nerve in her body to act out in a fight or flight response and with that came anger and the need to be vitriolic to you.

You sighed, taking a step back from her as your own arms found a place wrapped around your waist, a conditioned action from your childhood that had transferred even into your avatar body. You felt the tears begin to cloud your eyes, and you silently cursed yourself for letting this get to you during a time that was supposed to be celebratory.

Finally, meeting her eyes again, you broke down your walls and let the feelings you had been trying to make sense of for far too long go, “I can’t go on like this forever. Can’t you see? How one of these days when either the technology fails or our resources finally diminish themselves, I won’t be able to keep doing this. My life will alter completely.”

As you paused, behind your eyes it was like you had bonded back to your human body. A pale body being pumped full of liquid solutions with dullness to its eyes. All you could feel was weakness — the only thing that was left within it. “Not to mention the stress from the link pod would become too much for my body. I would have to give up one, and I prefer that it wouldn’t be this one.”

Her hands reached out and took a hold of your elbows, reasoning the only thing she could think to do to calm you down or to better change your mind. She smiled softly but it was laced with a kind of grief you hadn’t seen before. “Y/N, when and if that day comes, we can get you readjusted. We can teach you the ways to handle the forest in your human body and get enough oxygen supply for you. Spider can help—”

“I don’t want Spider’s help,” you snapped, fangs barring for a moment before you recoiled into yourself all emotions dropping from your face, “You don’t get it, Kiri. What I have outside of this village, outside of this body is not a life. I sit around day after day looking out of a glass box at a world that is right in front of me. A world I will never be able to have, not like this, not like I have now. That isn’t living and I am running out of time. Please, try to understand. There isn’t enough time to try and make up for it with my human body.”

“Y/N,” Kiri’s grip on your elbows tightened, her eyes dancing across your face trying to decipher the meaning of your words as all that she could hear ringing in her ears was that you didn’t have the time.

Before she could spend too long on it though, you were speaking again with a deflated look appearing on your face, “But you don’t have to worry because clearly, Eywa does not see me as one that is worthy. Mo’at turned down the request. And you won’t have to worry about me and Lo’ak either because you and I both know I could never go through with it.”

Though relief flooded her system, the brokenness of your expression brought out other feelings in her. Mostly of sadness as she watched how quickly that glow you had was diminishing into nothing but a dull perspective on life. That rare magic that seemed to fill you, that most people couldn’t even acknowledge as being real or possible, was slowly being ripped out of you.

She took a deep breath, feeling your disappointment reverberating off of your very being. Somehow as she processed your words, she couldn’t help but think that it wasn't entirely true. Eywa’s heart beats loudly in her ears and often it’s like her soul can hear the Great Mother’s voice. Kiri had quickly learned what it meant for Eywa to not accept something or to not agree with something — it didn’t feel like this.

“You could never go through with it because of the request being denied?” Kiri finally asked, deterring the conversation to Lo’ak and what he had asked you. The very thing he should have never asked you in the first place.

As she asked it though, you became silent, your hands gaining your attention rather quickly. Within that moment, where you stared down at your ten fingers that matched the two Sully children's, you realized that even if the transfer request had been accepted by Eywa and approved by Mo’at, that wasn’t why you couldn’t go through it. Even if you became fully Na’vi, you knew fully in your heart that you couldn’t accept Lo’ak’s offer to settle. It was never about the transfer ritual at all, but rather about someone.

“Or you could never go through with it because of Neteyam?” Kiri asked, and your eyes flickered up as if she had read your mind or, better, your silence.

Brows furrowing together in confusion, your eyes widened slightly in surprise, “How did you—”

“You really think no one has noticed, Y/N?” she smiled, a small laugh escaping as her hand reached up to brush the braids in your face, which she still had to undo, behind your ear, “It’s like the whole world has tilted on its axis and you act as if it hasn’t. It’s all there in front of us; the stolen glances, how his previous frustration has changed into protectiveness, him sneaking out every night to see you even when he spent most of the day with you, the light touches here and there that happen so quick like a blink of an eye, the way you look at him. I can keep going, there’s plenty more.”

Your head tilted down, face flushing completely to a dark hue and it was all the confirmation she needed. Meeting her soft smile, you reached up to take her hand in yours, remorse the only way to describe you, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Of course not,” Kiri chuckled, her hand squeezing yours, “No one ever does. It’s cute though, you and Neteyam.”

You shook your head then denying her words, her acknowledgment of your feelings, “No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

She watched as the glow seemed to dull even further as your broken expression met hers, voice soft as you spoke, “There can never be a me and Neteyam. You know that, Kiri. He is the future Olo’eyktan and there is a plan for his life. One where his mate will be chosen for him. It’s a life that I can’t be a part of.”

Her expression dropped, a smile falling from her lips as her hand cradled your face softly fully preparing herself to wipe the tears from your face. Her mouth parted as if she was about to say something, comfort you maybe, deny your claim, or worse accept that it was the truth and what would inevitably happen. You would never know though as her eyes flickered up behind you, something catching her eye. Her hands fell from your frame and her soft smile returned.

Confused, you watched as she nodded in the direction behind you, your name falling off her tongue as if it was a sweet melody, “Y/N.”

Cautiously, you turned around, worried that someone had somehow and someway heard what you had said, all of it including the confession about the future Olo’eyktan. You felt your anxiety slip away into the night as you found the man himself entering the tree, his eyes only set on you.

Then a new kind of anxiety formed, and your heart rate sped up, as you took him in. He was already dressed for the ceremony with the most extravagant necklaces, arm bands, and clothing just as his father had been. Hair freshly braided, it swung from side to side as he stalked forward, a look in his eye you couldn’t entirely unravel. He was slightly out of breath as if he had been running, a thin layer of sweat gathering across his shoulders and the side of his face.

Kiri took a small step back as Neteyam stopped in front of you, his hands instantly reaching out to take your arms. His palms were rough against your skin as he began to scan you from head to head, a tight frown stitched onto his face paired with his eyebrows knitted together.

His gold eyes could even be described as scary and you wondered if you had gotten a sliver of the past. If the old Neteyam was standing in front of you and was about to lecture you for being late to your own ceremony. Instead, when his golden gaze found yours again, they softened for a millisecond and the look was gone again just as quickly.

“I am going to kill him,” Neteyam growled under his breath, voice deep enough to reach inside of you and hollow out your entire body of any other feelings that once resided there. Suddenly, all you could think about was him and the way he was holding you.

An arm's length away, he continued to scan your body for any markings or injuries that hadn’t been there before. You realized then that this look on his face, this intensity and anger wasn’t towards you for being late, but towards his younger brother, who was supposed to be responsible for you. Lo’ak was the reason behind this reaction and clearly, the sight of his younger brother being scolded by his father near their tent had sent him into a rage. “Are you okay?”

Your insides fluttered at the way his tone had shifted completely in a matter of seconds. This was a side of him you felt you had never seen before, and it was like that paired with the way you were staring up at him like a lovesick puppy had been enough to prove to Kiri that everything she had said was completely true.

“Yes, I am fine.”

Your words had broken his spell and his stare hardened again, his anger towards his brother returning full-fledge, “How could he be so stupid? He knew what time the ceremony was and he kept you out there until dark anyway. It was completely selfish. And if something happened…”

His voice had trailed off as if he couldn’t even think about it, let alone say it. He was playing a dangerous game with your heart, evident in the way the strings seemed to be getting pulled with everything he did or say. You reached out, your hands connecting with his chest, and he felt all air get pushed out from the sudden contraction of his diaphragm due to the warm touch.

“Neteyam, I am fine, okay? And Lo'ak didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Yeah, just having fun right? Uh, I shouldn’t have let him go. It should have been me up there with you. I know better than letting him go off without someone who is responsible. It’s like he doesn’t have a conscious when he flies and he's seventeen for fucks sake."

“Stop. Okay, this is not your fault, Lo’ak is his own person who makes his own decisions. There is nothing to even stress about because we’re fine. We are both fine,” you said, thinking carefully about your next words, “You know how it is. You get up there, and suddenly you’re flying for hours—”

“And never want to come down, I know,” he finished your thought.

“You know, you can be too hard on him sometimes,” you said, and at your words, you felt him pull back, not only from you defending Lo'ak but at the way you had sounded so much like his mother talking to his father.

He couldn't respond but instead, let his worry fade slightly. However, you watched as the previous panicked look still remained in his eyes and you realized then that this was more than just a reaction to you being out later than expected. There was more to his response and anger towards his younger brother than just making him late for your ceremony. The way he was still gripping you in his hands was all the confirmation you needed.

“What is it?”

His ears perked up at your question, watching as your hands fell from his chest. The concern soon filled your eyes too. Cautiously, you asked again, “What’s going on?”

He then glanced around you at his sister, who was staring at him expectantly. Kiri stepped forward and raised a brow in his direction, “Neteyam?”

With your head tilted up at him, you pushed every flutter, every thrilling feeling he stirred in you away. That's how scared you got when you looked at the expression on his face and the paling of his skin. You watched as his expression set in and let his guard down — that facade of being the perfect little soldier disappeared and all you had staring back at you was a worried young man.

Before he could respond, footsteps caught all of your attention. Neytiri appeared just as furious as Neteyam had moments ago. Behind her, Tuk followed oblivious to all the feelings that were being thrown around the room. At the sight of them, his hands dropped from your arms and he took a step back putting distance between the two of you. You ignored how the simple action played with your feelings because you knew you would have to get used to it — the lack of his physical touch. You were brought back out of your daze, your eyes finally leaving the side of Neteyam’s face as you felt a more petite body collide with yours.

Tuk was hugging you and hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around her. It was the only warm feeling left you could actively acknowledge. Neytiri let out a breath of relief at the sight of you, “Oh Great Mother, you’re here, finally.”

She walked straight by her son who now found the ground much more interesting to look at than you. His walls were back up just like that as the strong soldier he was supposed to be and you all were forced to revert your attention to the importance at hand; your ceremony. His silence was so loud though, it was the only thing that could hold your attention.

“I am sorry Neytiri to have kept you all waiting.”

“Shush,” she stepped forward, hand brushing across your shoulder. She hissed then underneath her breath, her ears flattening slightly, “I pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son.”

The mention of Lo’ak had your shoulders dropping, the guilt beginning to swallow you that they once again put all the blame on him. As if you were nothing but an innocent child who didn’t know any better, they looked to him expectantly — all of their protectiveness of you overshadowing the poor treatment they were giving him. Even if he had kept you out far later than he should have, he was unworthy of the treatment they were giving him, Toruk Makto’s son or not.

“We need to start getting you ready,” she said then, moving to continue what Kiri had already started with your hair. Her fingers quickly but gently began to undo the remaining braids. Her eyes then flickered up to her oldest son who stood nearby stealing glances at you.

She raised her eyebrow expectantly at him and as if he was about to leave, her husband came barreling into the room but with no Lo’ak following after him. Instead, the younger boy stood outside, leaning against the opening, arms crossed over his chest, and face pulled into a scowl. Jake hesitated from addressing Neteyam as he saw you standing before his wife, luckily unharmed.

Stepping forward, his large palm ghosted over your cheek, that Olo’eyktan look about him faltering slightly, “You okay?”

Your eyes narrowed and you found yourself glancing from him back to his son. Neteyam was already looking at you, his soft gaze completely hidden in front of his parents. You glanced between the two of them and somehow you just knew. They were all keeping it from you and based on their reactions, whatever it was it couldn’t have been good in the slightest.

“Yes, I am fine,” you said, voice wavering slightly as Jake’s hand dropped from you.

Neytiri continued with your hair and all of the women watched as Jake took Neteyam by the shoulder and guided him a few feet away. They both had lowered their voices but even with his efforts, you all were able to hear every word, “Immediately after the ceremony we go, do you hear me, boy? We can’t waste any more time so as soon as it’s over, we call the Ikrans.”

“Yes, sir,” Neteyam nodded, and you felt your heart spike in your chest.

It seemed Neytiri wasn’t entirely aware of the situation either as her movements slowed down and she looked up at her husband questioningly about what exactly he was ordering their son to do. Her eyes narrowed, and the motherly protectiveness built into her DNA showed. She called out to her husband and the two men became tense at her voice. Slowly they both looked up, hesitant about what they should and shouldn’t say. She only saw this seriousness when Jake began to channel his marine side and she felt her stomach prick nervously at how he stepped forward as if he was going to prepare her.

“What’s going on?”

He sighed, “We’ve gotten word that there are sky people close to the border. Far closer than ever before.”

Neteyam glanced over at you trying to gauge your reaction and you felt your whole body stiffen — out of dread, fear of a reality where maybe this would be the end of your avatar form. If another war was going to break out, there would be no room and no safety for you to keep entering the link pod every day. It would all be over and with you still being very much one of them, one of the sky people, you could get shunned from the village.

Jake stepped forward though and tried to ease her worries, “I’ve gotten word that it’s only a few. There is nothing to worry about yet, okay? After the ceremony, Neteyam and I will gather the Ikrans and go see what’s going on. We will be spotting, nothing else.”

Your mouth parted, unable to stop how you instantly looked at Neteyam. When he caught your eye and your expression, he couldn’t help but look away — away from the fear slapped across your face. Neytiri nodded but a part of her still couldn’t let it go, “If it is only a few can’t you order someone else to do it?”

Jake shook his head, “I need to see this for myself to better assess the situation. It’ll be fine, I promise you.”

“And Lo’ak?” Neytiri asked.

“I talked to him, he knows what he needs to know about the situation. Keep an eye on him though when we leave, I can’t have that boy doing anything else stupid.”

Tuk was still wrapped around your body and you felt the way she turned her head into your stomach, trying so hard to understand everything her parents were saying. Jake glanced down at his youngest daughter and knew he probably shouldn’t have said anything in front of her but it couldn’t wait. To avoid Neytiri worrying about it later or feeling blindsided, he needed to say it and somehow the children being present was just unexpected collateral damage. You hugged her tighter to your form, hands rubbing her back softly.

“It’s getting late,” Jake acknowledged, glancing at Neteyam and then back to his wife.

Neytiri nodded, knowing that with time now more important, she had to turn off everything that worried her — every fear or possibility of the worst occurring. Instead, she pushed it all down away with the pain and the grief where she built her strength. As if it hadn’t been the most terrifying news she had heard in years, she pushed it all down and focused on the moment right in front of them. You and your ceremony. Before anything else, that must be completed first and have all of their attention.

She clicked her tongue in the direction of the exit nodding to the two men and accepting her wish, they turned to leave. Neteyam was hesitant for a moment, his eyes scanning over you one more time before he followed after his father. A look you all had noticed. Neytiri glanced from him to you, brows furrowed for a brief moment. She let it go though, deciding not to think about what it meant. Instead, she released your hair from the last braid and ran her fingers through the soft waves.

Kiri went to gather the newly beaded top she had made for you and Tuk released you to follow after her sister. Neytiri smoothing out your hair moved to face you. As she looked down at you, you couldn’t help but notice that her eyes appeared far more gentle than you would have ever thought they would be when looking at you. As much as you had changed, matured, and begun to see the world differently, so did she.

She had learned to accept you as everyone else had and slowly realized how right her husband had been about everything — you, your past, and the hold you seemed to have on her children after all these years. Your heart was kind and strong and belonged among them more than she had ever realized.

She smiled, “How are you feeling? Ready?”

“Yes,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper as you stared over at the beautiful woman who wasn’t that much taller than you.

It was then that Neytiri realized how grown up you were, almost nineteen with an entire life ahead of you within the village. She took notice of how more and more every day you began to appear less like a girl and more like a woman. Even with you only having the avatar for less than a year, she could see how evident the changes were before you. And it all started and ended with how you saw her and everyone around you, with such clarity and endless love.

“I am nervous,” you whispered then and her smile suddenly widened.

“You have nothing to worry about. Eywa has accepted you among the people and understands your heart more than anyone. She sees you and now you will be one of us for the rest of time. Na’viyä hapxì (one of the people).”

You thought you had known what it would be like, what it would feel like. It was a moment you had been thinking about nonstop from the moment Neytiri had granted you permission to learn the Na’vi ways from her son. You thought you had gone through all the possibilities of how it would play out, what would be said, what you would be wearing, and ultimately how you would feel. None of it could have prepared you. Not in the slightest as no one can really understand what being born twice feels like. Or what that level of acceptance feels like. No one can possibly know until it happens to them.

That is what you realized when you walked out a mere half hour later, your head in the stars and body completely lit with the possibilities of life laid out before you. Dressed in the most carefully crafted purple beaded top, you felt the eyes follow you, taking in the new woven necklaces and the sudden way your hair fell so differently. Instead of tightly pulled together in small braids, it fell softly and in natural waves with the top half pulled back out of your face, a large flower laced into it.

White paint decorated every inch of your skin, done by Neytiri, across your entire face, and down your torso. It brought out the gold in your eyes and drew attention to the gentle curve of your lips. A songchord hung from a thin band tightly wrapped around your waist and everyone glanced curiously at the Waytelem and how proudly you wore it. It held very few beads, but the newest sage green hollowed-out bead was the most noticeable.

The clan clumped together in a crowd watching on as the young woman slowly approached the Sully family that stood proudly in front of everyone, all beside Jake Sully the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. They and everyone else couldn’t deny the beauty that was brought out of a person walking with their own heart clasped openly in their hands. At that moment you were no longer an alien to ogle at. The extra finger on both hands didn’t hold any other significance, and you were no longer a sky person to them. Instead, you were just a young woman, a young Na’vi looking to be given a place among the people.

The people began to collapse around you, quiet prayers falling from their lips as Jake stepped towards you, dressed as the king he was destined to be. The Sully family followed, surrounding you; Neteyam on one side and Neytiri on the other. Beside her, Mo’at with Kiri, Tuk, and Lo’ak standing behind you. Your eyes flickered to the side to find Neteyam, his eyes already staring straight at you, shining proudly.

Jake raised his hands up in the air, all attention on him. A smile spread widely across your face as for a moment he was brought back to his ceremony, his own rebirth before the Omatikaya. He knew how you felt, he knew how overwhelming and wonderful it was to be seen differently than the five-fingered alien that stumbled across the village.

He peered into your eyes and fully understood every emotion that flickered within your eyes, “Ngenga ‘ite Omatikayaä luyu set. Na’viyä luyu hapxì (You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of The People).”

His hands then fell to your shoulders. Then slowly, following their Olo’eyktan you felt hands appear across your side and along your back — all starting with the feeling of Neteyam’s pressing along your chest, right where your heart was. He felt the way it picked up in your chest and as you glanced up at him, you found him smiling.

Neytiri and Mo’at’s hands were felt across your side and Lo’ak and Kiri’s palms were pressed firmly along your back with Tuk claiming your stomach. From there the rest of the clan followed. People of the village grabbed onto the shoulders of whoever was standing in front of them and just as Kiri had described, a circle had formed, of intertwined arms all connected before Eywa with you at the center — the center of the Great Mother’s heart. Closing your eyes, it was like your life had become complete, like every moment spent in your human form had been a sacrifice that would one day lead you to this.

As you opened your eyes, a single tear falling, you met the gaze of Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, Olo’eyktan, past dream walker and you knew then without a doubt, no matter what happened your life was complete.

As soon as the ceremony was over, you were pulled into hugs, arms clasping around your form, laughter and encouraging words whispered in your ears. The second the circle had started to diminish, you felt Kiri practically leap onto your back, her arms winding under your shoulders to pull you back against her chest. You laughed as her head leaned against yours, her joy painting your skin in the form of tears. You felt another frame sneak around her sister, appearing at your side and swiftly wrapping her smaller arms around your torso, not even caring that the white paint was transferring onto her skin. Tuk.

Neytiri remained in the same spot she had been during the ceremony, the corners of her lips lifted up softly as her eyes glossed over, unable to look away from the sight of her children winding themselves around you. She could see then how wrong she had been. How wrong she had been about it all, evident in the way the children cried for you, their hearts so full of love in that moment You had their hearts and in return gave yours back to them.

As the two sisters finally released you from their grasp, you felt a small tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Lo’ak bashfully staring at you with a small smile, his eyes hesitantly looking over you. His proposal flashed in your head but seeing the boyish expression on his face, your eyes softened and you reached out to him. His whole body flushed with relief as you stepped closer to him. His arms wrapped around your upper back and pulled you tightly against him. He couldn’t help the happiness he felt at the feeling of your nose pressed along his cheek and you returning his embrace just as firmly.

Even with all of the waves of emotions that were drowning you in every positive feeling you could think of, a hole appeared in your chest. One that suddenly caught your attention over the chatter of voices within your ears. It was like you could still feel where his hands were moments before. His absence was prominent and you couldn’t help but look around frantically, spinning around in the hopes you would find his braided hair or brightly beaded chest guard. It was as if Eywa had whispered in your ear to look for him and everything else that had mattered in the forefront of your mind was gone. No, all you could hear pulsing loudly in your ears was... Neteyam.

Neteyam. Neteyam. Neteyam.

The boy who now could be considered a man had done this for you; had helped you get to this point, had spent countless hours with you telling you every little secret he had within his back pocket about the forest, about the Na’vi, and about Eywa herself. The man who had swept you away without you even realizing it and had captured you with his attractiveness and attentiveness. The future Olo’eyktan who you knew you could never have left an ache in you, one that had altered your very being as dramatic as it sounded. During that time full of celebration and success, all you wished for was to get a glimpse of him.

Your shoulders deflated though as in the swarm of blue, his taller frame was nowhere to be seen. As if he wasn’t even there at all but a figment of your imagination. Glancing around, you realized that Jake Sully was also missing and you knew then that there hadn’t been a moment to waste.

In fact, as soon as you were being pulled into Lo’ak’s embrace, Neteyam was already on top of his Ikran flying off into the night sky beside his father. The only thing occupying his mind was the look on your face when he placed his hands on you during the ceremony.

Just as Jake had stated, the sky people were chipping away at the territory line drawn, marching through in large metal suits carrying guns in their hands. Those who walked bravely on their feet were alive from the oxygen masks pulled tightly across their faces. Others that weren’t holding guns were scanning the area with things Neteyam couldn’t name. But he watched as the machines and glass screens scanned the plants, the ground, and the foliage, all of it searching for traces of either Unobtainium or traces of Na’vi DNA. Either they were fine with. If they didn’t find any, Neteyam watched in horror as they burned whatever was in front of them like it was useless. To them though it was.

Neteyam had witnessed their destructive behavior many times, while he and his brother acted as spotters with their father leading the raids and stealing equipment. There was no empathy, no fairness in the affairs of men, and definitely not in a war. As the strong older brother, he was forced to keep it together for his younger siblings and the people of the clan — that was his burden along with taking on this impossible role. He felt as if Eywa was on their side when the sky people began to retreat the last few years like they were respecting the boundaries. He knew though that they didn’t operate like that and they never had. Their pullback and minor activity allowed the clan to stay in the forest and the village, living as they always wanted. He could see now that they hadn’t pulled back or they had been hiding at all, but rather taking the time to prepare.

Preparing to someday have the technology and the equipment to strike again and have it worth something. It seemed their days of preparing had come to an end and they were ready. Neteyam’s mouth was pulled into a tight line and for a moment his father’s voice droned off — all of the military talk, the orders of strategies, or the terminology that was trying to be passed down from one leader to another didn’t matter anymore. Because from above, for the first time, Neteyam watched his entire world begin to burn before his eyes, and the only sound he could make out was the cries from Eywa herself.

He had gotten back to the village late and it was even later when his father released him from the confines of a long conversation — a conversation he didn’t wish to be a part of. He wasn’t Olo’eyktan yet and even though he had just turned nineteen, no one seemed to see that the warrior before them was still so young. He had duties, and expectations, and just like he had admitted to you all those months ago, he was the protector. The burden installed on a firstborn son as his future was hung up in the stars. He didn’t have time to fall apart.

With that thought, he knew what he did have time for even with the world burning around him — you. Your ceremony, which had seemed so far away for months, had appeared in the blink of an eye. Somehow all of your nights together were behind him. The nights of confessing things he had never thought he could say to another person. Nights where you guys swam in the cool water, soaking in how alive it made you feel. Nights where he had wanted to reach over and hold your hand in his or possibly do something more. All of those suddenly were a part of the past; now that he knew what he knew, he wanted one more.

He saw the lights that were still glowing from the old tree. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe you were there — had decided to wait for him. Left the candles, sat down on a hand-stitched tapestry, and were waiting for him to walk in any moment. He thought about you sitting, bare legs crossed out in front of you, still wearing the hand-crafted beaded top you had been wearing earlier, your soft hair flowing down your back. He thought about your soft lips that would be parted softly in shock when he finally arrived and then instantly lift into a soft smile.

Neteyam wondered what they felt like, how they would fit against his — how they would taste. He wondered how you would taste. Guilt appeared then because this was not the first time he had thought about you this way. In all honesty, it had been going on for months starting at night when he lay awake staring at the ceiling. Then, his thoughts of you changed, starting with your lips, to something less than innocent. He would never admit it to anyone though, not when you were the one on his mind when his hands ended up between his thighs at night.

Somehow it had become normal to him, his hidden affection for you. As well as the desire that filled his body when he thought about you, especially when you looked at him with that pinched expression you usually acquired whenever he was being a jackass. It was wrong of him to do that. It always had been because you were never his and he knew that you never would be. However, it wouldn’t stop him from thinking about it for one last night.

As he stepped into the opening of the tree, he realized that you weren't there at all but it was his two siblings. They were standing close to one another talking under their breaths as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear. Kiri was practically yelling at Lo’ak even with her attempt to whisper, and the tone of her voice felt like a hot knife running across both the boys' skin.

Neteyam approached curiously, not drawing either of their attention. Lo’ak’s arms were crossed over his chest and based on the look in his eye, he was being defensive. That usually meant he had done something he clearly shouldn’t have.

“How could you do this Lo’ak? How could you do this to Y/N?” Kiri snapped for the hundredth time at her brother, a protectiveness over you and a seriousness that she thought he would have understood. A type of feeling she thought they all had for you but clearly, she was wrong because if Lo’ak felt the same, then he wouldn’t have done this. She never sounded this way, this upset.

Neteyam now a few feet from them, watched as Lo’ak raised his hands in the air and let them fall to his sides in annoyance. “To her? Kiri, I am doing this for her."

"Really, are you sure she feels that way?" Kiri sent back.

"It is not that big of a deal. You’re acting as if I did something wrong.”

Her eyes widened and she swore under her breath as her hands tightened at her sides with a sudden inclination to smack her brother across the face. Lo’ak stared at her, waiting for an outburst, or for her to curse him out or worse tell their parents. He waited and tapped his foot obnoxiously.

“Not that big of a deal?” she said then, incredulously, eyes narrowing further, “Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate.”

A second.

The prolonging silence, accompanied by a sweep of denial was the first thing he could feel as the disarming words repeated back in his mind.

Lo’ak you asked her to be your mate. The words felt like an endless pit as they filled Neteyam’s ears, unable to fully register if what he heard was true. All breath had been stolen from his lungs out of disbelief. A disbelief that left him feeling suffocated as his frantic eyes flickered back and forth between his brother and sister.

His hands clenched and unclenched with every second that passed, each becoming more agonizing than the last. The silence was palpable, completely torturous as the words he had never even pondered a day in his life suddenly ripped holes into his body. The shock had taken over his system and like an endless cycle he kept repeating the tormentful sentence in his head and by the third time, he felt the images start to distort before him.

As if he could feel his own cold blood under his touch staining his palms at the sight of you and his younger brother filling his mind. The destruction to his very being. Lo’ak held your hands as he asked you the question that would lead to Neteyam's demise. Lo’ak wrapping his arms around you. Lo’ak kissing you. Lo’ak getting to explore every part of your body that Neteyam had craved for himself like a moth to a flame. Lo’ak mating you. A thought that could only encourage the bullets in his chest to tear and taint what was left of his sanity. You asked her to be your mate.

After the sixth time, the shock seemed to settle in his bones and effortlessly turned to grief. As if the mercy he had begged for was not spared and instead led to his morbid end. Then with a much-delayed reaction, it felt like a kiss of life was bestowed on him. It traveled to his heart in the form of icy water, sending a thousand bolts of electricity through him, telling him to wake up from the bitter daydream.

He was again rewarded with reality perpetuating his mind and brought him back to the sight before him. His sister angrily glared at Lo'ak, who refused to fall honorably under her will and admit that his actions were wrong. It was no longer Neteyam that was in denial but his younger brother.

Then the icy water replaced all of the blood in his body, and a new feeling formed. His eyes twitched, head spiraling with rage, sending his senses into chaos. Unlike all of the times before when he had felt the green monster create feelings of irritation or insecurity, he knew this was something else. No, this was so much more than that.

It was a rage that was felt with every fiber of his being, every nerve of his entire self. That’s how undeniably pissed Neteyam was; like his entire world had crumbled before him and the lone destructor was his brother. His own brother he had spent his whole life being told to protect, taking the blame for because it meant he was doing what was asked of him. All of his life was spent putting up with Lo’ak and sacrificing everything for him. Now, all that was left in Neteyam’s chest was the feeling of complete and utter betrayal. In itself that was the worst rage to have.

“You did what!”

Breaths were stolen as his voice cut through the night's air. His voice sounded so foreign even to himself, so cold, and so desolate of any emotion. With a sharp intake, both siblings turned around.

Kiri stood still as she realized her anger was nothing compared to the future clan leader. To her, it was like a dark shadow had fallen over her brother’s features. He stood, tall, hands tightly bound into fists. She flinched lightly, merely watching as he tilted his head towards Lo’ak. She had never seen Neteyam this angry and she knew that it had been her words that had been the cause of it.

Lo’ak could feel the rage pulsating from his brother’s body, the brother who hadn't thrown a punch at him since they were no older than eight and six years old. His older brother who had always protected him and taken his side no matter what, somehow was no longer there. That Neteyam wasn't there anymore and Lo'ak knew exactly why.

It was you and he knew it because Neteyam wouldn't act like this for just anything or anyone. Lo'ak had known far too well the feelings his older brother harbored for you, secretly of course, because Neteyam could never admit it out loud. It was almost as if you were some secret to keep locked away until nighttime fell. Lo’ak finally knew that the one thing Neteyam suddenly truly wanted, away from everything else he had been given was you. However, the world wasn't set up for people to get what they wanted and Lo'ak couldn't care about Neteyam's feelings.

Because where Neteyam could never have you, he got everything else; the pride from his parents, the praise from the clan, the admiration of all the women in the village, the title of Olo’eyktan, and being described as the headstrong warrior. The older Sully sibling had it all and somehow Lo’ak couldn’t feel bad for what he had done, not when it came to you.

“Oh, look the perfect little soldier has returned,” he said, provokingly, ignoring the way Kiri’s eyes widened at his choice of words.

Neteyam growled under his breath and stepped forward, the anger in his eyes only igniting further, “Really, that’s how you want to go about this right now? Perfect little soldier! Really, Lo'ak?”

Lo’ak’s face twisted, jaw clenching to match his brother’s, “Yes, I think I do.”

Neteyam sighed, one that sounded more dejected than it did angry, “Please don’t tell me that what Kiri says is true. You wouldn’t do this.”

“Except that I did, brother. I asked Y/N to be my mate.”

“Lo’ak,” Kiri warned but he sent a glare her way and suddenly she found herself no longer wanting to intervene.

She shook her head unable to understand what Lo’ak was doing or how he could be saying any of those things — as if his resentment had taken over and his initial awareness of everything else was nowhere to be seen.

Neteyam’s tail swished angrily, aiding in how he kept clenching his fists. His voice was low, scary even, “How could you?”

“How could I? Are you fucking kidding me?” Lo’ak cursed, sarcasm dripping from his voice as you flickered through his mind.

You, Y/N Y/L/N were sweet, strong, and absolutely stunning. You were everything that any man could want and somehow you had gotten yourself all tangled up in a fish line — a fish line that belonged to his brother. A fish line that would never be pulled in. You were falling for Neteyam and Lo'ak couldn’t bare to see it someday destroy you.

Everyone knew about the plan, about Mrs. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, the soon-to-be Tsahik and he wasn’t about to watch one of his closest friends waste her time pining over someone she could never have. He wasn’t going to let that happen to you, especially if Mo’at reconsidered your transfer request. He wasn’t about to watch you spend the rest of your life alone, hoping his brother would one day come to his senses. Neteyam was full of too much pride for that and he followed the rules far too close to ever go against what is asked of him.

“Neteyam, you will never be able to be with her, do you realize that?”

His body stiffened at Lo’ak’s claim. How he had been called out so effortlessly after months, after half of a year hiding how he felt about you. After spending so much time hiding it because he knew better than anyone how true Lo'ak's words were. In fact, he was reminded of it every day. Future Olo'eyktan, that's all he had ever been and all he would ever be seen as for the rest of his life. Everyone's expectations of him weren't suddenly known to him.

Lo’ak inhaled, voice lowering slightly, “You can't be with her, and I didn’t do this to hurt you, Neteyam. I did this for her. I don’t want her to be alone. I asked her to be my mate because she deserves someone who wants to be with her. Someone who won’t put everything else before her, especially their duties.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Neteyam hissed, voice laced with despair.

“And she at least deserves someone who can admit their feelings for her out loud.”

Even if what Lo'ak said was completely true, Neteyam couldn't listen to him anymore. Instead, he took the time to wonder how Lo’ak had even gotten to the point to ask you this. You were a dream walker. A sky person at night and their mother had firmly set a line, boundaries that clearly stated you shouldn’t be mating with anyone unless you were to become a full Na’vi. His eyes widened then, his thoughts stopping short as he realized.

A full Na’vi.

His face, once twisted in blistering sorrow, now was coiled with anger. Eyes narrowing, they never left Lo’ak's frame, as the question left his mouth like an irrefutable fact. “Why did you ask her now?”

“What do you mean?”

Neteyam took a step closer to his brother, rage the epitome of his being, his protectiveness of you taking priority over everything else, “Mother clearly said that Y/N wasn’t allowed to mate with anyone as long as she was still a dream walker. So tell me, brother, why did you ask her now?”

Lo’ak's eyes fell for a moment, finding interest in the ground, realizing then that the worst was yet to come. As it was the same reason Kiri had been angry with Lo’ak in the first place — it wasn’t because he had asked you to be his mate, it was why he asked you to be his mate. The transfer ritual. The ritual that had the ability to take your life.

“Lo’ak, ‘eyng! (Answer),” Neteyam demanded, already having a suspicion about the answer that would come out of his brother’s mouth. A suspicion of the reasoning behind all of it.

Slowly, Lo’ak lifted his head to look at Neteyam who was full of so much fear it was being expressed as aggression. He shook his head, finally finding the strength to admit it out loud, “Since she went to see Mo’at about a consciousness transfer.”

A second.

Then it was like a bomb went off in Neteyam’s head, a blaring warning of the inevitable end that was soon to come. His ears were ringing and his sight had blurred and at that moment he hadn’t comprehended what he was doing until he had already done it.

The punch had sent Lo’ak barreling back, shock appearing on his face along with a fresh trail of blood falling from his cheek, where the skin had been ripped open. He reached up and let his fingers brush along the cut, hissing out in pain as his older brother stared at him with the coldest look he had ever seen.

Kiri had gasped, “Neteyam!”

“You fucker!” Neteyam mumbled out, hand still tightly clenched together his brother’s blood now smeared across his fist, “You motherfucker. How could you be so selfish?”

“Selfish?” Lo’ak chuckled now just in mere disbelief, “Seriously?”

“You just don’t say anything! You let her request a transfer and you don’t say anything! What the fuck is wrong with you Lo’ak?”

“Neteyam, stop,” Kiri spoke again, her voice firm

Instead, he stepped forward, the furrow in his brow still evident, and fist raising slightly in the air. Lo’ak shook his head and let out a laugh as he glanced down at the drops of blood on his chest “You know what? Fuck this.”

Lo'ak lunged forward then, his hand clasped tightly into a fist, punching Neteyam square in the side of the head. Knuckles broke skin, right above the warrior's left eyebrow. Kiri hissed under her breath, somehow beginning to feel like her mother did when she once had to deal with stupid men and their need to solve problems with their fists, “Ftang! (stop) Both of you.”

Neteyam stumbled back but only for a moment as he regained his strength immediately. He smirked slightly, not even bothering to check the damage as he bound forward again. Getting a hold of Lo’ak, they both fell to the ground and suddenly it had become a conversation turned to punches being thrown back and forth. Neteyam had managed to get multiple in, not even holding back on his strength, until Lo’ak managed to get a leg up in between them, kneeing his older brother straight in the side.

“Ftang (stop)!”

Neteyam’s abdomen clenched and the sudden impact knocked the wind out of him, giving Lo’ak the opportunity to roll over on top of him. Lo’ak with the upper hand began to throw punches into his brother’s sides rather than his face. Hissing out, Neteyam felt his body recoil at every harsh throw to his torso and it was like there was nothing left. Nothing left in him to bargain for or intangibly fix. The pain was all-consuming at that point, his brain unable to wash away the deception he felt.

Letting out a yell, Neteyam sent a barreling hook into Lo’ak’s chin knocking him off balance. With the opportunity, he shoved his younger brother back and off of him. Lo’ak hit the ground hard, his back sliding across the dirt, creating more cuts.

Scrambling up on his feet, Neteyam wiped the blood from his face and stepped towards his brother’s frame, suddenly defenseless. He struggled to breathe but gathered all the strength he could and as he towered over his younger brother, he felt his respect for Lo’ak disappear completely. Staring down, he took notice of the blood sliding down across the side of Lo’ak’s face as well as the deep cut that was made across his upper lip. A bruise was already forming around his eyes, and his hands were splattered with Neteyam’s blood.

As he looked down at him, a flicker of the past appeared in front of his eyes. A smaller Lo’ak, an innocent helpless child who followed him around, asking him to teach him to hunt. A child who paraded around the village on Neteyam's tail trying to get him to play with him. For a moment as he stared down at Lo'ak, all he saw was his younger troublesome brother who was almost two years younger than him. Then in an instant, that old version was gone, like it was nothing but a ghost of the past, and in its place remained the Lo’ak he had been dealing with for years. The one he felt had hurt him in the worst way possible.

Kiri was staring at her brothers in disbelief and watched with fear as Neteyam stood huffing over Lo’ak, still full of so much anger. A look and feeling none of them thought he was capable of directing at someone in his family, let alone his younger brother. Luckily, before anything else could happen, all three siblings felt their attention be ripped away by the sound of heavy footsteps soon accompanied by a bellowing voice. One that was far scarier than even Neteyam’s.

Jake had heard from a rider of the clan that they had spotted his two sons yelling at one another in the old tree. He sighed, already annoyed about having to deliver a long lecture as well as a kick in the ass to both of his sons. A parenting moment that he didn’t have time for. Having heard the rider’s words, Neytiri looked over at her husband in slight disbelief. With Tuk tucked away in bed, both parents began to make their way to the old sacred tree.

What had been described as a mere argument seemed to be so much more as they heard their daughter yelling inside at her two brothers, accompanied by the sounds of colliding fists and painful grunts. They broke out into a run then and as Jake sprinted to the tree, he felt his stomach drop at the sight of his two sons tangled on the ground punches flying at one another.

As he stepped foot inside, he found Neteyam towering over Lo’ak both of them covered in blood and bruises. Kiri stood by, arms wrapped around herself with tears filling her eyes. He surveyed the scene and felt all reason leave his body. His stare hardened and his entire body tensed up at a sight he never expected to see.

“Hey! What the fuck do you two think you are doing?”

As they got closer, Neytiri gasped at the appearance of her two sons, battered and bruised far worse than she had ever seen before. Approaching Kiri, she took her hand in hers while her own expression seethed fire, “Kehe (no)! What happened?”

Jake took a hold of Lo’ak and pulled him up and off the ground, his expression was sharp as knives as his hand firmly gripped his youngest son’s arm.

“It was one thing to hear a rider tell me that he can hear both of my sons screaming and at each other’s throats about something but it was another to come and find you two idiots trying to beat each other to a pulp!”

Neteyam wasn’t even looking at his father, instead deathly still with a distraught look pained across his face. His brother's glare twists in his chest and at the hollow feeling in his throat, he couldn't help but look down at his hands and his body. Blood coating his skin like heavy rain, resembled the only feeling still piercing his chest.

“What the fuck has gotten into the two of you?” Jake demanded.

He was met with a deafening silence. Neytiri hissed at her two sons, the disbelief that such anger could be taken out on each other evident on her face. “Answer your father!”

Feeling the tightness of his father’s grip, Lo’ak's mouth parted like he was going to answer, but before he could say anything Neteyam beat him to it, his voice raw and empty, “Nothing.”

“Nothing, really?” Jake chuckled, angrily, “Why don’t you take a look at your brother’s face and tell me if that does something to jog your memory.”

Neteyam's lips sealed shut, eyes refusing to look away from his blood-covered knuckles. At his silence, Jake huffed so loudly it drew a shaky breath out of Kiri as he directed his glare away from Neteyam to Lo'ak. Except Lo’ak wouldn't dare break first.

Jaked growled, reaching out to grab Neteyma’s forearm to try and get his attention. His glaring eyes could not stop looking between his two sons, ablazed. His sight turned red and his expression was rigid as his teeth gritted together.

“You both better come up with an answer real quick or you’re going to get knots in your tails. You read me?”

His grip had loosened slightly however as he looked back over at Neteyam. The tightness of his jaw and the quiver of his bleeding lips took Jake by surprise. It was a look he had never seen on his son before. Tears welled up in the young soldier's eyes and he fought to keep them from escaping in front of his father. Warriors don't cry and they sure as hell don't cave in. They don't get crushed under the weight of a broken heart because there are others to be concerned about.

With his ears pulled back, he felt the tightness in his chest worsen. Jake shared a look with Neytiri and it was like they both could identify the exact feeling laced across their son's face. Defeat.

Jake's mouth parted in shock as Neteyam suddenly ripped his arm free and turned swiftly on his heels, heading straight for the exit.

“Neteyam!”

#avatar #avatarimagine #avatar way of water #neteyam x reader #writing #fanfiction #neteyam imagine #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak fanfiction #neteyam fanfiction

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wlntrsldler · 6 days

Text

THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

I guess a lesser woman would've lost hope. A greater woman wouldn't beg but I looked to the sky and said "Please."

The first time you burned offerings, you had hope that your father would acknowledge you. It was the day after you got to Camp Half-Blood. You burned your entire plate of food, choosing to starve for the night, in hopes that your father would offer his condolences. Perhaps, he'd empathize with you. You both lost someone, after all, you a sister and he a child.

But nothing happened. You thought you did it wrong, that your father just didn’t hear your prayers– he wasn’t ignoring you, of course not, what parent would ignore their grieving child? You stayed up the entire night reading ancient texts, knocking on the doors of cabins to speak to head counselors for guidance. You were too naive about this life to notice the pity in their eyes then. None of them had the heart to tell you that your father wouldn't show mercy, at least not in the way you wanted him to. They never did.

You tried again the next day, only to be met with the same fate. But Luke, who had heard of your attempts, saved half of the food he was given and knocked on the door of the lonely Zeus cabin to share it with you. He'd gotten in trouble for not burning an offering that day, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to let you go to bed hungry two nights in a row.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, then years, your offerings began to get smaller and smaller, until finally, prayers became more of a chore, a thing to check off on your to-do list. It stopped meaning something. It was three years of unanswered, half-hearted, prayers.

Luke stumbled into Camp Half-Blood midday. A large gash was across his face, blood staining his skin. He was clutching his side, shirt nearly ripped to shreds, similar to how his skin was raw and frayed under his clothes. He'd used all his strength to carry himself into camp before falling to his knees when his eyes finally found you in the chaos of it all.

He said your name once, voice hoarse and scratchy like Ladon clawed his way inside Luke, ripping out his vocal cords, not sparing a part of him from destruction. When he finally collapsed, you ran to him, smearing the red of his blood all over your own clothes, as the Apollo kids pried you away from him.

For the first time in three years, you were going to bed hungry again. The charred remnants of what would've been your dinner created a foul scent in the air. Luke’s blood was still lodged beneath your fingertips, staining your hands even after you’ve rubbed them raw. It made you sick.

"Dad," You pleaded, watching the smoke fade into the night sky. Your tears were flowing down your face, chest heaving as you ignored the distant sounds of the campers you were meant to be looking after. "I haven't asked you for anything in years, but now I'm asking you this. They can't take him. Please, not Luke."

For a moment the world seemed to still. The clouds in the sky disappeared, specks of white faded into the midnight blue. You turned around, looking for a sign of life somewhere, anywhere. There was nothing but silence, no sounds of owls hooting in conversation, no whistles of the air, no chatter of the few kids who stayed at camp.

When the flame in front of you extinguished with a whoosh, the darkness engulfed you, leaving nothing but the thin light illuminated by the moon. Black smoke rose from the pit as you looked up to the sky, "Please."

A flash of light vanished as quickly as it came. There appeared a ragged line perfectly between the peaks of the mountains, bright white, leaving a haze of silver in your vision. Then a rumble of the earth, shaking the ground your knees were glued to. Lighting and thunder. A sign that Zeus had heard you.

A high-pitched noise rang across the world, different frequencies like it was caused by more than just one thing. The noise made you cover your ears with your open palms, groaning as you fell over by the sheer power of it. Then the world resumed, like what you just witnessed, what you just experienced, was a glitch in the fabric of time.

Your offerings were nothing but ashes now and the clouds returned to the sky, this time carrying the weight of water as droplets fell on your bare skin. You stood up, rushing to the infirmary, barely beating the relentless storm that was brewing.

Lee Fletcher turned around at the sudden intrusion, eyes wide in shock for the second time that night. You stood at the door, trying to catch your breath. He smiled at you, as he took two steps to the left, then disappeared in the other room. Luke was propped on his bed, shoulders hunched over as he touched the bandages on his face. As if he felt your presence, he turned his head, wincing at the pain that shot up his spine when he overextended. Even with one eye taped shut, you saw his gaze soften.

His voice came out as a whisper, barely audible, but you still heard it. "Hey, you."

Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. If it wasn't for the sounds of your footsteps pounding against the wooden floors, if it wasn't for your hands reaching over to touch Luke's face, warmth spreading against your skin to anchor you, to show you that he's really there in front of you, you wouldn't have believed that this was real.

The gods were cruel sometimes. They messed with your head until you were questioning your own sanity. At first, you thought this was one of their games, one of the things they did to toy with mortals for their own entertainment. Perhaps, Luke wasn’t really here; But then you felt it– his heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Home. This was real.

"You're okay," You cried, hands grazing over every part of his body. You tried to ignore the raised flesh under the bandages, running across large expanses of his skin. The scars were still fresh, blotches of red marking the white cloth. "You're okay."

"I'm okay," He repeated, a side smile appearing on his face. His hands gripped your waist, needing to feel you just as much as you needed to feel him. Luke wanted to tell you that all he thought of was you the whole time. Even when the sides of his vision darkened, and all he could do was drag himself through the familiar neck of the Montauk woods, it was the image of you that he kept chasing.

You, waiting for him under the shade of Thalia’s tree. You, shaking him awake in the Hermes cabin to start your rounds around camp. You, smiling at him like there was something worth living for in this life. You.

Luke wanted to tell you that it was the promise of spending life with you, even if he was nothing more than your best friend to you, that kept him hanging onto the thread of life. If he survived this, he swore to himself that he'd tell you how he truly felt about you. He couldn't die without you knowing.

"I shouldn't have lied to you," You said, "I should've told you to stay like I wanted to."

Luke shook his head, "This isn't on you. I wasn't fit to go on this quest. I failed."

"You're the strongest person I know, Luke."

"This wasn't a test of strength," He snarled. Luke always got like this when he talked about things related to his father and the gods. Resentment dripped from his voice like honey. It wasn't a tone you were too familiar with because he never spoke to you like this. "I was right. This was a test of something else. He sent me on this quest to fail... and I fell for it."

Luke did things with conviction. He was born to be a leader and it showed. He never cowered from a challenge. He held his head high, even when things didn't go his way. He learned from his mistakes and he made sure it would never happen again.

But sometimes, in the rare moments where the pain of failure pierces his heart, he turns into the little boy you once met. The same one who did things for the approval of his father. The same one who defied the odds and fell into the traps of the insincerity of the gods. The same one who blamed himself for not being good enough– not good enough to save his mother from the Oracle, not good enough to save his friend, not good enough to warrant more than two sentences from his father.

You always said that you and Luke were two sides of the same coin, both burdened by the feeling of knowing you should’ve done more, but differed in the way you went about life. Luke welcomed his responsibilities, fueled by his search for glory, while you shied away from this life as much as you could.

Your mouth felt dry as the heavy raindrops trickled against the window pane, "I'm glad you're still here."

"I couldn't leave you here on your own," He replied, voice dropping to a whisper. His hands tugged you closer to him. You let him wrap his arms around you, feeling his heart against your chest. "Can I tell you something?"

"Always."

"I–" This was it. He couldn't wait anymore, not when he faced death and all he could think of was how his heart would ache, longing for you, until your time came to join him in the afterlife. Even on the brink of his demise, all he could think of was you. He wasn’t afraid of dying, he was afraid of being in Elysium without you. Would it even be a paradise if you weren’t there?

Luke's words got caught in his throat. His confidence was at an all-time low. If you rejected him now, he doesn't think he'd be able to bear it. He didn't think he could handle the thought of facing the repercussions of this failed quest without you by his side. He cleared his throat, "I-I'm tired. Will you stay here tonight?"

You nodded, running your hands through his hair as you gently laid him down on the bed, careful not to put pressure on his wounds. You kept your distance, afraid to cause more harm than good, but Luke was not having any of it. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his weak body. He couldn’t move much in fear that he’d tear his skin even more with any slight movement, but that was the least of his worries. In fact, he had no worries now.

He made it to Camp Half-Blood, alive, albeit a failure, but he was with you. There were no worries in the world anymore.

“Luke?” You whispered. You turned to face him, recognizing the face you’ve grown to love even in the darkness of the cabin. The flashes of lightning illuminated his face every so often. Despite all of this, he still looked beautiful. Your Luke always did.

“Hm?” He hummed, eye fluttering open at the sound of your voice. The noise of the storm was drowned out by your soft breaths against his cheek, warm and comforting. “What is it?”

“You know I love you, right?” You professed, reaching up to touch the uncovered side of his face. He melted into your touch, feeling safe and seen in such a small action. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t make it.”

“You should know by now that I’ll never leave you,” He chuckled, nudging your nose with his. “I’ll be kicking and screaming if they ever try to keep me away from you. They’ll have to send more than one dragon to keep me from you.”

You laughed, “You’re insane, you know that?.”

“I know,” He looked down at your lips. You’d both been in situations like this before, caught in the magnetic pull of each other, but had enough strength to pull away before either of you could do anything that would lead to regret. “For the record, I love you, too.”

“Do you?” You breathed out, wondering if he understood your question. You said it to each other often. You both let it linger in the air, subtext and unsaid words on the tips of your tongues. “Do you love me?”

The way you were looking at him made his heart race. Is it the right time to tell you everything? Is it too soon? Will you think that he was just saying these things because of what happened? Would you trust him if he told you that he loved you in every way that a person could ever love another?

If he asked you if you trusted him with your life, you’d say yes with no hesitation. You’d trusted him with your life since you first met him. All his life, Luke had been taught to be wary of the people he met, but not when he met you. It was like you saw right through him. You understood him like nobody he’d ever met.

“I love you,” He said, hoping that it was enough to show you. If he had his way, he would let you peek into his mind, his soul, and his heart, just so you’d see that all of him yearned for you.

“Do you–” You paused, tilting your head to brush your lips against his. The storm began to calm outside. “Do you love me like this?”

Luke’s grip on your waist tightened, hands burning against the exposed flesh on your lower back, “Yes. Always.”

You sighed, placing your lips on his. You felt Luke shiver at the feeling. His lips moved against your own in a gentle kiss, innocent and kind. The rain ceased. You pulled away from him, continuing to trace patterns on his skin. Luke’s face relaxed as he held you in his arms, letting the tiredness in his bones win.

When the both of you woke the next morning, the sun was shining brightly through the curtains, with no traces of last night’s storm to be seen.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #LUKE #luke castellan fanfic #luke fic #luke pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #PJO #pjo fanfic #pjo series #percy jackson fanfic #the prophecy

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smuthospital · 7 months

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⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #degrees of lewdity #kylar the loner

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pansear-doodles · 4 months

Text

My new iterator OC, Messages From the Stars

Messages was built on a high peak mountain for better use of their primary function: to signal boost and communicate to all in the local group, even outside of it, stretching miles and miles from their area.

They had various radio towers and their city houses communication arrays rather than cities, as it was too harsh for their citizens to live there. There were cave systems that were used as temporary homes during their construction- once construction finished, only very few citizens remained for maintenance, before eventually they left too.

Messages is able to prevent slag buildup thanks to the mountain's natural spring waters, which were the cause of the cave systems. Overtime, the cave systems expanded, allowing flora and fauna to reside, sheltered from the harsh climate. Many creatures adapted to the dark cold environment- primarily lantern mice and a distant cousin of the scavengers called yetis, larger in size and denser fur, they were one of the many predators of lantern mice and other smaller creatures.

One day, Messages received a signal that caused their entire superstructure to rumble violently, creating a landslide that decimated all of their remaining communication arrays. Their can is engulfed in a mixture of earth and snow, but the heat of the structure was enough to create a small crevice on one side of the can. Unable to communicate to the others, Messages started to modify nearby fauna. They managed to figure out that Lantern Mice are the only reliable subjects, thus has trained and created a new subspecies of lantern mice called star mice. They had larger ears, a pouch to carry pearls and a star shaped tail to indicate Messages's ownership of them.

The star mice gained a sapience similar to slugcats, creating their own communities and self awareness of the steel god. They were loyal to Messages and were their only sense of company, being isolated from the rest of the local group. The only iterator that they're able to communicate well with still is Nine Linen Lanes, who is nearby. They became reliant on sending them information and gaining some back, eventually becoming close friends. Lanes would occasionally send back the star mice with gifts such as knitted clothes and heat sources to keep Messages and the mice warm.

Messages is lonely and since their isolation, has grown cold and standoffish. Their way of speaking became less friendly, although those who know them well such as Lanes and the mice can see past that, and know that deep inside, they're actually quite kind. They oftentimes find distractions in creating poems, embedded on the endless amount of pearls they have. Sometimes the mice would accidentally bring these alongside the intended packages. These poems are described as dainty at best.

#rain world #rainworld #oc #my art

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moonit3 · 5 months

Note

Can I get a uhhhhh dragon yandere (it's ok if u don't btw!! I just love getting presents and the unusual)

yes, you can get a yandere dragon, anon.

WARMTHLESS

➥ warnings/notices: yandere male, obsession, manipulation, kidnapping, forced relationship, age gab (like the dragon is imortal and reader is a young adult), there is a child here, gn! reader, readers uses a cane later in the story, implied violence, implied death.

➥ yandere! dragon x gn! reader

➥ synopsis: the great dragon of the south never expected to become a caretaker of a human child, but luckily he has someone to help him with the task.

➥ a/n: did I love writing this one? yes. however, be warned that it takes a while to the yandere show up his tendencies as I try to make this one feel more ‘realistic’, to make the dragon slowly fall in love with reader with everything going on with their lifes. also, be aware this is quite long.

the great dragon of the south always lived by himself since the beginning of humanity. staying by his own lair on the coldest mountains, he spend most of his cleaning his treasures and watching the humans from a village nearby the mountains.

it’s a lonely life, but that was dragon made for, to live by themself til one day their bodies stop working and then to ascend to the afterlife. that’s what oberon’s ancestors told him, he is destined to be a lonely dragon til his last breath on earth, but that changed after a day.

during the coldest winter that passed in earth, oberon was waking throughout the abandoned path once used by merchants and to his surprise, he finds a human shelter. it’s destroyed, corpses are everywhere and so is blood. what did happened here? it couldn’t be simply raiders who attacked, the marks on the now dead bodies shows sharp claws and the scene is too messy to be made by humans.

his eyes notice one the tents moving, so he steps closer to see what is inside and he made a great discovery. a baby.

“oh, a tiny human.” shaping into his human form, oberon hold the children into his arms as gently as possible and analyze the little one. few drops of blood in their face and despite everything, they aren’t crying like he thought they would. “a brave one, i see…”

the first thing that came to his head was going to village nearby and hand the child to the people there, hoping to find a living relative to raise them. however, there is too much snow for him to travel and using his dragon form is out of question, it would only scary the villagers. so another idea came to his mind, he would take care of the child in meanwhile until the weather changes for good.

inside his lair, the great dragon managed to make a makeshift bed for the tiny human made of old vests and fur of ancient animals he once hunted for fun. despite not being the most appropriate place to a baby rest, the little one probably found to be comfortable as their eyes closed in seconds, leaving oberon alone with his thoughts.

why would an expedition bring a baby with them? any human should know how the cold mountains aren’t a suitable place for a newborn, but he can’t ask it as the child’s probably parents are dead, meaning that he will have to go the humans’ village soon.

the next morning, before the sun raise on the sky, oberon put the heaviest coat to cover his human form and the little one who rest on a handmade baby sling on his chest. with that, he began walking down the mountain and sing a sweet melody to the child stay calm during the trip, it’s working as the two made their way to the village.

step by the step and a three hours late, oberon arrived at the small village after a snowstorm had calm a little, luckily no house or building seems to be torn apart. and pulling the hood down, the baby awake by the soft light of the sun and their giggles made the dragon smile as both approach the closest house.

he knocks at the door and someone opens it quickly, “oh my! what are you doing in a weather like this? please, come in.” oberon enters the tiny house and takes off the hoodie when the door closed behind him. “take a cup of tea, dear traveler.”

the dragon observes how small is the house. the bed serves the same purpose of a couch to watch the fireplace and the only walls inside are the one to separe the bathroom from the rest of the home. it’s so small, but it’s fit a human to live in comfort on their own.

“thank you for let us in.” oberon sit on the edge of the bed, carefully holding the baby and put them to rest on the warm blankets. with his hands now free, he removes his heavy coat and grab a cup of tea to take a sip from it. “may I ask if you have anything to feed a child? if that isn’t too much to ask, my fruits are long gone to the child’s belly.”

“I do have some berries,” the gentle voice of the human make oberon smile, this person simply didn’t notice the horns on his head or they just don’t care at all? “and I think that I might have some strawberries that I brought some days ago…”

as you search for the fruits, oberon analysis the interior of the house. there are a few portraits on the walls, photos that include you with other people he believes to be your family. it’s something that oberon envy from most humans, they can have family and relationships without worrying about immortality, as they live together til the end. while dragons get to live forever with one at their side.

“here I found some, mr…”

“oberon, just oberon.”

a small basket of fruits is now at his side, waiting to be eaten by the time when the child wakes up later. for now, the two share true same roof til the snowstorm ends and for what it’s look, they will have to be together for a while.

“so, why did you came to the village? the snowstorm won’t stop anytime soon and bringing a child so young isn’t the best idea.” the human pour another cup of tea to the dragon before taking a seat on a close chair to take a better look at the baby. “this child isn’t your, am i right?”

“indeed. i found them at destroyed campsite at the mountains, their parents are long gone.” the smile on the human’s face vanish by his words, sad about the true reality of the baby’s parents. “i would take care of the child on my own, but i lack the ability to raise them as I don’t know to take care of another living being.”

oberon felt guilty for what he is going to say next, but he has too. “could you help me raise them? just for a brief amount of time and then i can leave afterwards.”

the humans stay quiet, taking about the proposal gave by the dragon, unaware of his true intentions, “well, it’s sound a good deal.” a smile grown on their lips, a tint red on their cheeks of the idea of getting close to the mysterious man.

“then it’s a deal, mx…?”

“call me [name] and you are?”

“oberon, just oberon.”

times goes on as oberon began to raise the little girl at your side, feeling happy knowing that you let stay at your home without expecting anything in return. it’s a generous act and the dragon knows that not many people would be as nice as you, so he makes sure to keep his value at your small house.

you continue doing the hard work such as cutting the wood for the fireplace to keep the house warm, fishing at the frozen river, going for the market to exchange your products to supplies for the cold winter, that’s your role in the house. while oberon become the main caregiver for the young girl, learning how to take of a baby who always need his attention, changing diapers and teaching her the old tales of mythological creatures he once meet in his dragon form.

life is going smooth, oberon can’t deny that. having someone to help him raise a human kid in an environment with other children sounds better than raising it at his lair, where no one would know their presence. but this life isn’t going too good for you, he can see the dark circles growing under your eyes for working long hours and he notice how sometimes the money wasn’t enough to cover the food, so you would just starve yourself to let him and the child eat. an generous, but foolish act as he doesn’t need to eat as much human does.

“you should eat more, oberon.” that you always say to him every time you give your barely touched plate of food to him. “taking care of a child on your own requires more energy than fishing.”

he tries to talk about it with you, but Oberon always lose the discussion as you give that sweet smile to him. the same smile you have when playing with the child after a long day of working, the very same smile that he has seeing for the last two years. you have endure so much because of him and the kid, oberon feels guilty about it. he sees himself as a failure for not giving or making your life easier, maybe things will change for good when the three of you start living at his lair back at the mountains.

it was another day of work for you and definitely it was exhausting as there war almost nothing that you fished today. the villagers didn’t brought any the tiny fishes you offered, but they felt compassion knowing that you are the sole provider of the house, so they handed you the food they didn’t sell. it was a great gift as you won’t ever forget about it.

going back to your home, you’ve expected to be welcome by the child’s hugs and oberon’s sweet words, asking about your work. however, that didn’t happened. walls empty of the many family’s portraits, the clothes oberon sewed missing, food is gone and the worse, none of them are here. almost like they were nothing, but hallucinations.

you yelled their name, searching the surrounding area of the cabin as the snow gets heavier and the wind colder. there are no footprints of them, no trace of they could’ve been, perhaps your mind is playing tricks. if so, how can you stop it and how can you find the two most important people of your life?

the idea of them simply vanish made you uncomfortable, made you cry in the middle of the snow and scream of frustration. things got worse and you have no idea of to fix it. but a thought came to mind, maybe they went to the village to buy firewood when you were out.

the small chance of seeing them made you get up from the cold snow and clean the tears away from face, ready to go back to the village and ask the others.

unfortunately that never happened.

claws met your shoulder and in a blink of eyes, a dragon began to fly away from your cabin. his wing flapping and creating strong winds as you desperately try to get away from it. you try to yell for help, but the dragon was too high in the sky to anyone hear you scream and no one would be a fool to help you in this situation. so you had no other option than just stay still and hope for the creature don’t drop you. the high ground made you dizzy and without option, your eyes closed by the moment you saw the clouds.

above the clouds and hide from danger, there is a lair of the great dragon do the south. he lives there’s along with two another people and those are his most important treasures, ones that he will never let it go.

the travelers brave enough to climb up there to exchange good with oberon, report the two people living with him are completely opposite.

the oldest, the spouse, always wearing the same expression in the face of tiredness. they use a cane to walk around the lair (now transformed into a cozy home) and some more aware travelers could see the scar on the spouse’s leg. it’s huge, definitely the reason why they need to use a cane to move.

some ask how them how was the accident, curious about the reason behind it. the spouse always replied there was a slippery ice that resulted in them becoming this way, yet some travelers doubt that by seeing fear in their eyes when answering it the dragon is always watching them talking with outsiders, but none pushed forward to know the truth.

and the second treasure is his daughter. an energetic and intelligent girl who is always reading about the world outside, dreaming to go out and explore the many places from the books she have read. her eyes sparkle whatever a traveler tell about the magnificent places she could visit when getting older and she is always writing in her journals about it.

and that’s what she did. finally of age, the little girl now grown as a smart and kind lady left the lair to adventure herself into the unknown. she doesn’t forget about to send magic letters (that literally just spawn at the lair) to her parents, telling about the world and the numerous cultures she has learned.

it’s great to know their daughter is doing okay, but for the great dragon, something is missing of the lair. it’s the silence that irritates him, the lack of a reason behind those make his spouse act happy and joyful with him and the fact they are begging to see the outside world again. it’s been years since the dragon let them walk at the mountain’s feet and the last time they did, the human tried something idiot and got to use the cane for their rest of their life.

they began to make him angry, always asking to be outside for just a little and they won’t stop talking about it! the dragon wanted to keep them occupied to ever think about it and so he found a way to chain them inside the lair once again.

one day, returning to the lair after flying around the southern region, the dragon brought someone else in his arms, a baby. the view of a small figure in the arms of their husband made the human just stare at it, fully scared to ask why there is blood on the child’s face, but brave enough to ask why he brought a kid to the lair.

“it’s our second born, my dear.” what? “you looked so sad after our daughter left, so I believe that being parents once again will make us happier, closer and of course, you will stop nagging about brainless things of going outside. now, you should give our baby a bath, right? I will make dinner for the three of us.”

@moonit3 writings

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feeder86 · 6 months

Text

The Wolf and the Pig

Gray had tried to warn them. He’d said, quite plainly, that he could manage the station by himself and that didn’t need anyone else here with him. For the most part, they’d listened. He’d had five years with hardly any interference and he had managed his vast, remote area of the national park without a single incident to mark his record. Perhaps that was why they’d sent Callum here: to learn from the best.

It had been the night of the full moon when Gray had found out about the new recruit and he’d descended into a rage unlike any other; ending in his decimation of the local wildlife in a way that would take the ecosystem many months to recover from.

Being alone was the best way for Gray to manage his curse. He was the lone wolf, living in an environment that best suited the nature of his true self. It had been fifteen years since he had been bitten, as a young recruit for the National Park Rangers. In that time, and with each passing full moon, he’d come more and more to resemble the creature of the night. He’d grown hairy, strong and lean; his handsome features darkening and his stature increasingly intimidating. On the rare occasions that he came across people in his job, they never even considered questioning his authority or status.

Keeping people away from Gray wasn’t about protecting them. It was about territory. He knew that if someone else was posted here, they’d eventually get in his way on the full moon and he’d end up biting them. If the curse was able to manifest within them, there’d be two of them here, hunting in the same patch. And that would never do.

From the first email, Gray was hostile with Callum. He got a sense of the young guy quite quickly: eager, knowledgeable and passionate about conservation. He was going to be a nightmare, getting in his face and asking inane questions over the many months of his placement. Gray had tried to fight it, to not cooperate, but it had all come to nothing. Callum was already on his way.

The harshest of winters was over and the Spring was well underway as Gray drove the many miles out west to the location that Callum needed picking up from. They’d put him up in a motel for the night, which, despite its basic appearance, would probably be a lot more comfortable than the reserve station he’d be sharing with Gray from now on. As Gray drove into the parking lot, the guy was already there, dressed in his new uniform and carrying a massive backpack, ready to leave. He smiled keenly and reached out his hand to shake Gray’s, as if he had genuinely been excited for this moment for the last few weeks.

Gray pretended not to notice, shuffling to the back of the vehicle to secure something that had come loose on the journey down from the mountains. He was late arriving, deliberately so, having spent the last hour picking up supplies at a sluggish pace, knowing that Callum was waiting. However, Gray looked back as a slightly deflated Callum pulled off his backpack and slung it inside the truck. He was a tall, surprisingly pretty-looking thing, with an incredibly lean frame and tiny butt. He was no doubt toned underneath all those clothes, but Gray smirked to himself, already feeling a sense of superiority based upon the massive amount of muscle he had in comparison.

The first hour in the truck was painfully tense, as an awkward Callum tried to make small talk. Then, as the roads became more inclined and dangerous, the twenty-two year old simply sat, silently glued into his seat, clutching anything he could as Gray threw the vehicle about at speed, knowing these challenging roads better than anyone else in the entire world. Gray could hear the boy’s heart beating wildly and smelt the emerging scent of him as the sweat began to pump out of his body. Over the years, he’d developed an odd sense for judging humans and he smirked, seeming to intuitively know that Callum was never going to be the alpha male type.

“You’re on your own tonight. I’m off to check out some reports of poaching east of the river. I’ll have to camp there this evening,” Gray explained a couple of weeks’ later, knowing that the full moon would soon be upon them.

“What reports?” Callum asked, already across everything at the station, like the overly keen nerd he’d turned out to be. “I’ve not come across anything.”

“I’ve been here for ten years. I’ve got my own contacts who let me know what’s going on out there,” Gray shot back; shutting Callum down as soon as the guy tried to scold him for not logging it officially. But still the young guy looked at him with suspicion. He’d already come to learn that Gray didn’t always do things by the book; that he was overly aggressive and intimidating when dealing with potentisl conflicts in the park, as well as an almost unnecessarily private person.

Gray didn’t remember all of it. He never could. He’d done as he’d promissed and camped many miles away from the station. But there had been a chase of some kind whilst in his wolf form that night. He’d drifted towards the south and west. Perhaps he had caused a stir in the forests that had aroused Callum’s suspicions, given that Gray had accidentally seeded the idea of poachers, but he remembered coming across a human beside a vehicle, carrying a flashlight. There’d been an altercation; the taste of blood and Gray had then continued his hunt, waking far from his camp and needing to hike back, barefoot and naked, as soon as the sun rose.

It wasn’t until the evening that Gray returned, having slept for several hours in the tent afterwards, trying to recover his strength. He saw Callum sitting with his back to him, looking at the computer screen. He would have seen Gray pulling in on the monitor, but he hadn’t got up to welcome him, having realised that his friendliness towards Gray would never be reciprocated.

That was when Gray saw it: the bandaged forearm on Callum’s left arm; not broken, but still with blood leaking through in patches. The sight of it made the vague recollections of the night before cement themselves properly in Gray’s mind.

“What happened to you?” Gray asked, knowing the answer but determined to make one last vain attempt at denying the truth.

Callum turned, looking sweaty and vague. “I came across a wolf last night,” he explained, lifting his arm up with his other hand to demonstrate how sore it was. “The biggest I’ve ever seen in my life. I got lucky that he was hunting something else, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.” He bristled and looked accusingly at Gray. “And, since I was on my own here last night, I had to drive myself one-handed, all the way to the local hospital for a tetanus shot. I’ve only just got back.”

Gray rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, though not quite for the reasons Callum might have assumed. “Well, that’s what it’s like out here. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

With his usual bravado, Gray marched across the space and into the shower room, closing the door behind him. It had been so long since he had bitten someone, he had almost forgotten what it was like. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing that his skin was still grimy, despite washing in the river that morning. Then a smirk spread across his face. He’d known Callum for a couple of weeks by this point, knew his scent and character. His body would fight the curse and most likely be successful. But in doing so, it would provide Gray with more entertainment than he had had in many years. It was exactly what the pretty little upstart deserved. This was going to be interesting…

Callum’s wound healed with surprising speed and the boy was soon back to normal, irritating the life out of Gray. His body was enjoying the reprieve, not necessarily realising that the building moon of the next month would be launching an attack on his body that he would never see coming. He began to look feverish the night before the full moon and slept the entirety of the next day, fighting the infection. Pleased that he no longer needed to hide, Gray simply stripped off that night under the moonlight and embraced his transformation.

Callum’s fever broke two days later and the young man seemed surprised to see Gray standing over him with a cool towel and reaching for a glass of water.

“How’re you feeling?” Gray asked, managing to make himself sound genuinely sympathetic. He looked down at Callum’s body; even skinnier than usual, dehydrated and weak. Nonetheless, it had been victorious. After all, Callum had not transformed into a wolf. For Gray, it had been a very different story, all those years ago. His body had put up no fight at all, and he had become a wolf with each moon since he was twenty years old.

“Like I’ve been run over by a bus…” Callum sighed, lifting a limp hand to help Gray feed him the glass of water.

“You’ll be okay now. I’ve seen this a lot out here. Give it another day and you’ll be up on your feet like nothing’s happened.”

Callum put his head down again and sighed with disbelief. Nevertheless, he recovered just as quickly as Gray had predicted, scrambling around in the kitchen area, even after Gray had made him a hearty meal. Gray watched the boy with a secret glee. Whilst Callum’s conscious self might have been oblivious, his body certainly knew that there was a war going on. He’d survived this month, but he’d need to be stronger for the next full moon if it was going to overcome the curse. And so, Gray sat back and smirked, seeing the slender pretty-boy suddenly develop the most ravenous of appetites.

Gray didn’t often head out for supplies, given how far from civilization the station actually was. However, in the larder, there were vast supplies of everything needed out here, including mountains of prepackaged energy snacks, required for days out on hikes in the wilderness. Within three weeks, an overcome Callum had decimated every last bit of it. Each day since the full moon, his body had taken in masses and masses of food; a consistent gigant overdose of calories that had quickly started to make its mark on his body. Like a tank, being loaded with fuel, Callum’s body had deposited those calories within fresh fat that quickly formed a plushiness under his skin. Budding lovehandles had started to push their way out of his sides and there was general, lethargic, heavy plod to his steps as he lazily went from the computer screen, to the truck, and back again. Callum was sleeping a lot more than usual, as if his body was conserving energy for something else, and the boy’s mind was less active and sharp.

“Are you not chatting with your girlfriend tonight?” Gray asked, half mockingly as he saw Callum drifting off to sleep in the chair with a half eaten oat cookie still in his hand.

Callum shook with a start from the sound of Gray’s voice and he glanced sleepily at the time. “I’ll call her tomorrow instead,” he mumbled, nibbling once more on the snack and reaching for another, before falling back to sleep.

Gray smirked. He hated listening to Callum on a video call with his girlfriend from back home. Callum was exactly the type of ‘nice’ boy to have the same girlfriend from the beginning of high school, and overhearing them going on endlessly about how much they missed each other had made Gray vacate the station on more than one occasion. Now, however, the conversations had started to become a lot more interesting. Callum’s girlfriend had noted with concern how his face was starting to look rather puffy. There was a fullness to his cheeks and a gentle softening of his jawline that she didn’t mind pointing out. Callum had denied this entirely, blaming the camera and the lighting in the station. Then, with a seeming lack of control over himself, he had continued to nibble on multiple snacks well into the night afterwards.

Gray set off to pick up more supplies and he hunted where he could for great stacks of meat that the other national park rangers would never find out about. In doing so, Callum never went without food, despite never ridding himself of a constant hunger. He slipped into a feverish state once more in the afternoon of the full moon and awoke the next morning, feeling like he was hungover, dehydrated and extremely hungry.

It was sometime within that second month when Callum’s pathitically tiny pants stopped fitting. Gray had noticed them pinching him for some days, further emphasising the fat that was spreading across the boy’s waist and into his pert little buttocks. Now, however, Gray saw the splay of the broken top button, inadequately concealed beneath a belt that Callum had clearly taken from Gray’s stash. For the first time in his life, Gray simply laughed at this; pulling himself back from the mild irritation that initially came to him whenever he was around Callum. Furthermore, Callum’s shirts were fitting in the most unflattering way imaginable, clinging to the little round, bloated stomach that had formed beneath his slender chest and making it seem even bigger than it currently was. In under two month’s the boy’s body had undergone a period of rapid, ferocious fattening that had left the pathetic creature in a state of bewilderment and embarrassment.

For the most part, Gray and Callum mostly ignored the changes that had taken place, or at least politely failed to mention them. Callum quietly sourced new pants and shirts to wear and he kept himself covered up most of the time. In his clothes, Callum arguably looked better than usual, with a fuller, more maculine build than he’d had before. But as the fat continued to build, Callum started to look genuinely chubby and even out of shape. As the summer heat kicked in hard, Gray walked around without a shirt on most days; showing off an impressive, muscular build that was now in such contrast with the increasingly bloated form of Callum. It seemed that the guy was particularly susceptible to belly fat, amasssing quite a little paunch in no time at all. It was now obvious that his once flat chest was swelling up with larger nipples and, by the end of July, Gray found it difficult to keep a straight face as he watched them flutter and bounce a little as Callum walked about. The immune response really was an amazing thing. With all this fresh fat on his body, Callum appeared more than capable of fighting the successive full moons; yet he was still eating and gorging and piling on more and more pounds. His immune response, much like when it dealt with many allergies, had kicked into overdrive.

It was after Callum’s fourth full moon that Gray began to pick up on the strange scent that the twenty-two year old was giving off. Whilst the boy’s body was doing a good job of preventing the physical wolf transformation, there was no denying that, in having been bitten by Gray, Callum was now part of Gray’s pack; whether he knew it or not. A bond formed each time this happened, and developed over time. Already, the chubby boy was starting to give off a strange cocktail of pheromones in Gray’s company. He seemed to grow coy in his older colleague’s company, lost his interest in messaging his girlfriend and became surprisingly awkward whenever Gray walked around without a shirt on.

Despite knowing that this was coming, Gray had had no intention of going there with Callum. He’d expected the boy to have blamed his new form on the job and quit long before this even became an issue. But things were moving a lot faster than Gray had anticipated. Gray had witnessed this type of fattening before in those that fought off the wolf curse, but he had never seen it happen so quickly, or so extremely. But now it seemed that the same was true of the pheromones Callum was producing. They were potent, strong, extreme and altogether impossible to ignore.

“Here, I made you some coffee,” Callum declared, handing over a warm mug to Gray, sitting with his binoculars on the porch area, overlooking the forest below.

“Thanks,” Gray mumbled back. Even outside, the flood of pheromones as Callum came out here was almost unbearable. The chubby boy absolutely stank of them and it was hard not to be distracted by it all.

“We’re running low on supplies again,” Callum began explaining.

Gray suppressed a sigh. Whilst incredibly amusing, Callum’s ravenous appetite was becoming quite a drain on his time. “Okay. I’ll see if I can head out later,” he grumbled.

Callum sat down, flooding the space with even more of his scent and Gray began to twitch awkwardly, feeling blood beginning to pump into his groin.

“In fact, I’ll head off now,” Gray declared, suddenly desperate to remove himself from the situation as he felt his erection swelling. He stood, hiding his groin with the binoculars and grabbed the keys to the truck. For the first time ever, as he drove away, he started to wonder whether he should just keep on going and never come back. Otherwise, it’d be hard to know what would happen next.

Gray returned much later, deciding to purchase the most calorific foods he could, in the hope of fattening Callum up even faster and sending him packing; concerned that the lifestyle of a National Park Ranger was not good for his health. He arrived late in the evening to find an exhausted-looking Callum asleep on the couch with the last remaining food items destroyed and decorated around his greedy face. A sliver of fleshy skin was uncovered as the boy’s shirt failed to hide the entirety of his torso and Gray stood, transfixed by what he was seeing; inexplicably aroused by the toxic fumes emanating from the pot-bellied boy on the couch. His erection immediately sprang to life and he tugged at his pants in the hope of hiding it better. He needed to check in with the rest of the crew online and tried to distract himself with menial tasks, despite the blood pumping wildly into his crotch.

Not long afterwards, Callum awoke and began eating once more, making a sizable dent in some of the items Gray had just brought back with him. “Don’t you ever stop eating?” Gray asked loudly, confused by the strange swirling emotions he was feeling and needing some sort of outlet for his frustration. “It’s disgusting! I’ve never seen anything like it! What the hell is your girlfriend going to think when you next get time off?”

“Actually,” Callum began, briefly stunned by Gray’s outburst that he actually stopped eating, “we, sort of, broke up this afternoon.”

Perhaps it was the pheromones making Gray care, but Callum’s words really did make him stop for a moment and wonder what he should say next. He stood, almost moving to approach Callum and offer his sympathies. Words poised themselves on the tip of his tongue. Then he breathed and fought once more to retain his composure; turning away and heading straight to his bed.

With sensitive hearing, Gray had found it harder to sleep ever since Callum had arrived. That night, however, the sounds of nibbling and chewing were drilling into his skull. Compelled by an insane hunger, Callum was up in the middle of the night and making his way through many of the calorie dense things Gray had supplied. On occasion, he heard the boy whimper, as if his tummy was too tight to continue, followed by more biting, chewing and swallowing.

Having lost his patience, Gray ripped himself from his bed and strutted into the shared space, ready to shout at the top of his lungs. “Why are you fucking eating at this time of night?” he roared, throwing his door open and receiving a full blast of pheromones as he did so. The reason for this was simple. Standing in the space, croched over the counter and stuffing his face was an almost naked Callum, dressed in nothing but a pair of overly tight boxers, trying to hold back a swollen rear and mercilessly cutting into meaty, well developed love handles. It was the first time Gray had seen Callum’s naked torso since the fattening had started, and even without the masses of bare skin oozing uninhibited pheromones, it was enough to make him stop in his tracks.

Callum jumped and his quivering hands tried to conceal the masses of wrappers he had made his way through. He swept them quickly into the sink and out of view. Then he glanced back quickly but did not turn around to face Gray, deeply embarrassed and evidently not wanting Gray to see the very obviously rounded belly he had grown; grossly swollen by the midnight feasting. “I’m going to bed now!” he cried out, like a kid caught out, talking to the wall in front of him instead of Gray himself.

But Gray was gone. He’d slept naked ever since he was a teenager and the pulsing erection he grew now came to him faster than any other in his life. It was undoubtedly the scent Callum was giving off, but there was also something so arousing about the soft curvaceousness of Callum’s new form: like Gray was the wolf, and Callum was his own blubbery little pig. Fighting this wasn’t an option anymore. They were both animals after all, driven by their instincts and desires. He marched forwards with purpose, observing the vibrations from his heavy footsteps quivering the soft fleshy fat that swelled around Callum’s sides.

No words were needed now. With Gray’s strong arms, he turned Callum around to face him, immediately spotting the erection that bounced forth from the chubby’s boy groin. Then, holding the chub’s face in both hands, Gray kissed him with more passion than he had ever thought himself capable of. Callum returned it, and within no time at all, both men were stroking each others’ hardness, moaning like they were already ready to explode.

Even amongst all that, Callum reached into the sink and grabbed the leftovers of the energy bar he’d been eating when Gray came in, swallowing quickly before returning to kissing straight afterwards. Gray’s hand explored the soft flesh that had blossomed around Callum’s waist and couldn’t help noticing how thick and juicy his glutes felt as he curiously bounced them. However, after only another minute, Callum paused his kissing once again and looked longing across to the other side of the kitchen area.

“Are you actually still hungry?” Gray asked, noticing that Callum was fixated by the large open box of oat bars. He walked across the room and pulled one out of the box, unwrapped it and seductively pushed it towards Callum’s mouth in order to maintain the erotic vibe.

Suddenly, Gray detected a great plume of pheromones leaching from Callum’s skin. It made Gray’s erection, which was already impossibly hard, immediately stiffen to an even greater extent; like a muscle trained to its absolute limits. Callum’s moan didn’t help either. Gray already knew his gut was packed tight and yet he nibbled from Gray’s hand with a greed that felt so submissive and deeply sexual. The feeling was not unlike the thrill he had each full moon, tracking down his prey. He pushed the food in deeper, alternating between stroking his and Callum’s hardness as he did so. The sense of power and control he felt was sending him over the edge with lust. He knew he could never be with someone like himself. Wolves were aggressive and status-driven. It was a constant battle to be the alpha. But here was Callum: doughy and soft, eating from his hand and gazing at him with pure submissive affection. This was going to work out. After all, who else was better suited to a wolf, than a greedy little pig?

Over the next few days, Callum and Gray tried to talk through the strange bond that was forming between them. Gray had been alone for so long that he found it harder to put what he felt into words. The pack mentality had meant his lust for the chubby boy had very quickly evolved into feelings of love.

Callum, on the other hand, had had no problem in opening up, explaining how drawn he’d become to Gray for quite some time. But he was also struggling. He didn’t understand the extreme hunger he’d had for the last few months, and he felt confused by how rapidly his body had been altering as a result. Gray listened to him with feelings of guilt, knowing the answers to all of the boy’s questions and yet not quite feeling ready to share them. But, with the full moon soon approaching once more, Gray felt a sense of duty to help protect his new lover from its effects; satisfying the glutton’s ever last hungry desire and swelling that increasing layer of insulating fat across his body. For now, it was the only love language he knew.

The fat was increasing its territory once more, spreading itself across Callum’s neck and bloating his chest. The athletic form he had once had was now being masked by it all; overcome by how obviously the new weight sat on his body as pure fat, jiggling and soft. It was depositing itself everywhere, stretching and widening the boy’s glutes and creating love handles like storage tanks of lard. Gray was loving every second of it, adamant that he had at last found his perfect opposite to love and cherish.

As the weeks wore on and Callum returned from a brief late summer break at home, his body looked increasingly awkward to behold. His stomach began to look like a great balloon was inflating inside it, and his soft, swelling chest seemed out of place alongside his still skinny arms. His butt had packed on vast amounts of softness, widening it just a little less than the outpouring of love handles above, yet his long legs and comparatively small thighs looked as if they were struggling to keep up with the pace of expansion.

At some point, it seemed as if Callum had let go. The humid, late summer heat had thoroughly defeated him and he began walking around without a shirt for most of the day, as Gray had been doing since the middle of April. He made less of an effort to hide his overeating and allowed Gray to do more for him out of the station. Given the frequency with which they had sex, he’d become acustomed to having his fatty flesh touched and didn’t seem as shocked by the way his body jiggled as Gray took him from behind. He’d had a falling out with his family during the break and had returned with an increased sense of independence, seeming to rid himself of all of the healthy eating values he had once insisted upon.

By the time the first snow hit the ground, Gray could hardly get over how much Callum had grown out. Now, when the full moon appeared, he didn’t even need to sleep through it, despite acquiring an even more ravenous appetite than usual; beginning roughly three days before. On these days, Callum felt compelled to eat so much that he could barely get himself off the couch; with Gray catering for most of his needs out of a profound sense of guilt and lust.

“Listen, Gray. We’re not so happy with how things are working out with Callum,” explained Gina, the overall manager for the park rangers. “I’m not sure he’s quite suited to being deployed in such a remote station.”

“He’s doing great!” Gray immediately shot back down the phone in his lover’s defense. “He loves it out here!”

“He’s not very productive though, is he?” Gina countered. “I can see by your location that you’re the one out collecting his research data for him.

Gray hated how easily the higher-ups could check up on them both. It was easy to believe that you were completely free out here, yet the subtle reminders that there was a careful eye watching over them was sometimes almost too much to bear. “What are you trying to say?” Gray asked, deciding that he was done beating around the bush.

“We need to make cost cuts and Callum is reaching the end of his probationary period,” Gail stated without a hint of remorse. “We’ve decided that we won’t be renewing his contract.”

Gray’s nostrils flared. “If you fire him, I’m walking,” he declared, feeling pumped and ready for a fight. He never could have imagined himself putting his livelihood on the line like this for anyone else before now. Yet, there it was; his ultimatum delivered to his boss who, unfortunately for him, didn’t seem to believe a single word he said.

Driving back, Gray wondered how long it would be until Callum was told he was being fired. In his mind, he imagined all the different ways that Gail would do it; cutting Callum off from the career he had longed for ever since he was a kid. Perhaps that was why Gray didn’t detect the signs of an intruder until he came right up to the mountain station and saw the truck parked up across the front in the most arrogant of fashions.

His heart racing, but with a determination to remain cool, Gray tried hard to take his time and casually make his way up the stairs. Through the window, he saw the sickening, grinning, tormenting face of Ash, a werewolf from across the border of Gray’s defined territory. It’d been ten years since their fight in wolf form. Gray had lost huge areas of the land he had once roamed upon a full moon and Ash would always show up every couple of years or so, crossing their boundary as only he was permitted to do.

If posible, Ash’s smug face was even more sickening than usual. Clearly invited inside by a swollen Callum, Ash appeared bemused, watching the fat boy trotting around, getting him one of Gray’s beers. He looked across at Gray, knowing exactly what was going on between them. He would have picked up the scent of Gray all over Callum’s blubbery physique.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally showed up,” Ash smirked as Gray came through the door.

“Callum, go take the truck out to fix the fencing by the cliffs,” Gray ordered, deciding to be deliberately gruff with his lover in a futile attempt to conceal their relationship. In reality, he needed Callum out of there as soon as possible.

“You’re fucking that fatty?” Ash laughed a few minutes later, as soon as Callum was gone. “I know you tried to turn him into a wolf. You know my rule: if they can’t take the curse, we rip out their throats under the light of the full moon.”

Gray growled, letting his animalistic side show through. His stance changed and he was ready for a fight, should Ash initiate one. “I won’t let you do that,” he declared aggressively.

Ash simply smirked and took a large swig from the beer Callum had got for him before he left; Gray’s beer. “Try and stop me,” he smiled. “I dare you!” Then he laughed, knowing that Gray would not risk their decade-long pact. At least, not yet.

Ash had decided to stick around in order to declare his dominance before the full moon on Saturday. He camped out a little lower down the stream and returned each day to chat with Callum whenever Gray had to go off and do errands. The purpose of those visits were purely for the joy of seeing Gray’s face once he returned and saw him sipping yet another beer on his couch; then having to stifle the anger that he felt so that Callum didn’t ask too many questions.

“So what are your plans for Sunday?” Ash asked the chubby Callum, as he stuffed his face in the kitchen. Then that intruding wolf turned and smirked across at Gray, making the man’s anger boil his blood. Ash’s meaning had been clear to him: Callum would be dead as soon as the sun set and the full moon rose in the sky on Saturday night.

Even in his human form, Gray wasn’t strong enough to take Ash on. Considerably older and more powerful, despite his fresh-faced appearance. Last time, Ash had nearly killed him without taking on as much as a scratch himself. Even so, as soon as they transformed on Saturday night, Gray knew he was going to have to try. He couldn’t let Callum be taken away from him. Not now.

“Are you okay?” Callum suddenly asked Ash, looking across with concern.

Gray stood to attention, wondering what game the wolf was playing now, as the pot bellied Callum took a step closer, attempting to steady Ash on his feet. “I’m fine!” Ash growled violently, letting his true self slip, just for a moment in front of Callum.

“You looked like you were about to faint,” Callum stated, studying Ash’s appearance even more and noticing the sweat on his forehead. They had all done the first aid training. They all knew the signs.

“No I didn’t!” Ash rumbled back, although with slightly more composure now. He glanced across at Gray for a split second, hoping that the other wolf had not seen his momentary weakness. Wolves didn’t get sick. Not ever. “I’ve got things to do,” he complained, storming off in what appeared to be a foul mood.

Ash did not arrive to torment them the next day and Gray’s keen ears had heard very little movement from him further down the stream. Innocent Callum had wanted to go and check on him, without even appreciating the danger he was in. By the Friday, even Gray’s curiosity had gotten the better of him, sneaking over to find the wolf’s camp completely silent. With a pounding heart, he gently brushed away some of the snow from the night before and unzipped the tent to get a look inside. He needn’t have worried, Ash was indeed inside, but he was fast asleep, seemingly trapped within a great fever that made his face glisten with sweat. Even then, Gray allowed himself to imagine the possibilities of what this could mean, but he did not dare to believe it to be true.

As he transformed the following evening, Gray stood guard over Ash’s camp, waiting. The moon was strong, flooding into the small, cold tent as the muscular man lay asleep within. For the first time in nearly fifty years, Ash’s body had remained in its human form under the full moon.

“What’s got you looking so pleased with yourself?” Callum asked as he loaded his plate with several rounds of fresh buttery toast that Sunday morning.

“Oh, you know…” Gray smirked, throwing himself down on the couch. “I’m just sitting here, admiring my beautiful boy as he gets ready for his day,” Gray sang in a tone that would have been completely alien to him before he met Callum.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is happy,” Callum sighed in reply. “I had an email whilst you were out last night, explaining that my contract will not be renewed next Spring.”

“Good,” Gray smiled back, seeing that his response had caught Callum a little off-guard. He stood. “We need a change, you and me. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to try something new.” He embraced the fat boy side on, sliding a hand under his bulging stomach and wrapping his big arm around his shoulders as the boy continued to eat from his plate. “You deserve a better life than I can give you out here. You deserve the best.” He kissed Callum’s buttery lips. “Imagine it. Real restaurants. Real fast food joints, and proper beers!”

“I thought you never wanted to leave this place?” Callum asked inquisitively.

“Well, things change,” Gray smiled. He sat again and laughed, imagining Ash’s reaction upon waking up and realising that whatever cocktail of pheremones and antibodies coursed through Callum’s body, his time spent alone with Callum that week had allowed his own body to acquire the same resistance to the wolf curse. Unlike Gray, his time as a wolf was now over. In a single night, Gray’s territory had more than doubled simply because Callum was part of his pack, leaving his body unchanged by the influence he clealy had upon others. He could survey the entirity of these many snow-covered mountains, the ravines and forests, seeing no end to his lands. And he could do that again, and again; werewolf after werewolf, leaving behind an ever fattening trail of fresh immunity. A world without end or borders.

“You’d really do that for me?” Callum smiled, touched and smitten with love as he stood, looking down on his lover and feeding himself with glistening, butter-drenched toast.

Gray smiled back, rubbing his doughy lover’s glutes with glee from his position on the couch. They felt larger than ever that morning. How perfect. How big and fat and round he could make Callum now. His body was the perfect lardy production house for all of those antibodies that would grant Gray everything he had ever wanted.

“For you, anything," Gray grinned, realising that his fat little piggy had just become the best meal ticket a wolf could ever imagine.

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainerstory

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todoriin · 3 months

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lose something, babe | rin can't leave you if you do it first.

cw: toxic relationship, avoidant gn!reader, angst w comfort, ambiguous ending, unhealthy portrayals of love, read with caution.

The rain hits your windshield like bullets.

Even with your wipers cranked up to the most powerful option, you still can’t see too clearly admist the chaos, streetlights and passing cars becoming nothing but droplets of light in the dark. It’s exceptionally lonely in your car, and cold, too.

Bringing your sweater-covered hands to your mouth, you breathe warmth into them, reaching for your phone.

No messages from Rin, or any notifications, for that matter. You don’t know whether to be relieved or saddened that he didn’t care to reach out in this weather, not that it surprised you. The only thing Rin will have with him when he crawls over mountains and swims across seas is his pride, and it’s the one thing he vehemently defends, even if it’s against you.

He makes you feel so small in comparison to him, and in a way, you are. Your name isn’t on billboards, you don’t have millions of followers on social media, and you don’t have the ego of a thousand suns behind you. At any moment, he could leave, and you know that, so you'll do it first.

Even if it means getting trapped in a thunderstorm; your least favourite weather to be stuck outside in.

Your phone rings with the sounds of a call, phone speaker turned up to max volume to break through the thunderous storm.

“Isagi?” You greet.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He answers from the other end.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, you can talk.”

“Can I crash at yours for a little? I’m… a bit far from home and you’re closer to my location.”

“You’re outside? In this weather? Does Rin know?”

“Don’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

You’re silent, pondering whether to lie or not. However, your lack of an answer gave Isagi one regardless.

“It’s none of my business, I shouldn’t have pried. Come over, you shouldn’t be alone in a storm like this.”

“Thank you, it means a lot.”

“No problem. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

It feels a little warmer when Isagi hangs up, his friendliness contrasting the ice that Rin likes to weaponise and throw against you.

The drive to his takes no longer than five minutes, and when you arrive, Isagi is already waiting for you, bundled in a warm hoodie and track pants.

Comfort is standing under the light and warmth of his front entrance, gratitude is being thankful to have a roof over your head.

“Come in,” the athlete ushers you inside.

“I’m sorry to barge in like this,” you murmur guiltily, quietly removing your shoes because to make sound was to exist, and you don’t want your presence to be a burden to him. You know that you're out of place here, and that his hospitality was one you don't deserve.

“No, please don’t apologise. It’s what friends do for each other.”

It’s peaceful at his place. There’s a 90s romance playing on his widescreen TV, an opened bag of chips on his coffee table paired with a no sugar fizzy drink. He ushers around the attached kitchen to pour you a cup of water.

You don’t recognise the show, and you won’t pretend like you do. To make conversation, you ask him what he’s watching, and whether or not it’s good since you’re on the lookout for good shows to watch. It’s only when Isagi’s done with his explanation that your phone buzzes with a message, the notification even reaching his ears.

“Is that Rin?” The dark-haired questions.

“Yeah.”

rin: The storm just reached here, are you safe?

y/n: yeah

Three bubbles appear, and then disappear, and then reappear. “Did something happen between you two?” Isagi asks, sincere and careful with his words.

“A small argument.”

“Are you sure? I don't know if it was... small.”

The evidence is plastered all over your face. Puffy eyes, dry tear marks, a red nose- all traces of the breakdown you had in the car that you tried to wipe away, but the most observant of people in the world see what others don’t want you to. Isagi’s good at that exactly.

"Small arguments don't cause people to drive so far from home."

You might cry again if he keeps looking at you so pitifully. You’re not miserable, you want to tell him, that you’re happy in your relationship with Rin even though sometimes his thorns pierce your most guarded of layers. There are more ups than downs with Rin, and you work through them together, you just need some time to breathe without him first because it’s easier to do so without him, that’s just how love and relationships should work, and when will this nightmare end?

“It was a small argument,” you pinch your nose bridge, eyes stinging with tears that threaten to fall.

Isagi hums in sympathy, not believing your words. That’s when your phone buzzes with another message.

rin: Where are you?

you: safe im turning notifications off

Isagi invites you to talk, that if you need the space, he’s offering it to you. What starts off as a small rant blows up into something you can’t control, only spaced out by sighs and noises of exasperation as you go over the fucked up things you both said to each other tonight.

By the time you’re done, there’s a series of loud bashes on Isagi’s door. Rin’s voice comes from the other side, fighting the downpour outside that still drums down, neither of them relenting.

“Don’t open it,” Isagi tells you, and you remain frozen in your spot. It’s hard to get up, hard to breathe, hard to think as he easily gets up and walks over to the entrance.

Is Rin angry at you for coming here? Has he come to drag you back home? To continue the argument from before you stormed out?

An infinity stretches between now and Isagi opening the door, but time comes crashing down when you hear the abrasiveness of Rin’s voice. He’s demanding for you, asking if Isagi did anything to harm you as if he isn’t the sole reason for your tears and sorrow tonight. As if he isn’t the one who hurt you the most, and here he is, making a ruckus in the home of a man who let you under his roof when you couldn’t go home.

“Rin, leave Isagi alone,” you call out, finally finding the courage to stand.

It’s silent, but the footsteps come barrelling towards you and Rin turns the corner with a frantic look in his eyes.

“Fuck, baby, are you okay?”

You were until he showed up. “I’m fine. How did you know I was here?”

“Your location, you’re always sharing it with me.”

“I- then what gave you the right to show up?” You almost choke on your anger, “I don’t want to see you, Rin.”

His grip on the wall tightens, as if the floor beneath him would give out from any second and he’d be sent tumbling into the abyss of emotions he can’t recognise and refuses to recognise. Despite it all, he can’t stop looking at you, as if tearing his eyes away would cause you to vanish, and he’d be tripping after traces.

“I needed to know if you were safe,” your boyfriend breathes shakily, pushing himself off the wall and towards you. You back away and only stop when your feet hit the couch, and Rin cages you in easily, large hands wrapping around your wrists like chains. “Come home, babe.”

“I want space, Rin.”

“I’ll give you space, I’ll give you everything you need, just- come home,” he begs, leaning in to rest his foreheads against yours with closed eyes.

It’s airy and desperate, the way he speaks. It is a siren’s song, and you shouldn’t listen, but oh, he is speaking so softly and kindly that it lures you in to a false sense of security. You almost close your eyes- almost, but in the moment it matters most, you push him away, allowing him to see your sorrowful state for the first time since he caused it.

Is love supposed to be as cruel as Itoshi Rin? Is it supposed to make you cry, fight, and thrash?

“Let go,” you try to tear your hands out of his, but he only retaliates by kissing your complaints away, swallowing them with his mouth so that your venom will settle in his stomach instead of his heart.

He’s insistent and everywhere. One of his legs are slotted between yours, his hands are warm on your cheeks, and the clash of his nose and teeth against yours feel so raw and human that it drains all of your fight out of you. How do you run away from this?

Persistently and blindly, he places kisses along your face, never straying too far from your lips.

No matter how much you want to pull away, you fight for what you love, not against it, so you sink into him instead and let Rin run his course, helpless to his onslaught of affection.

You try not to cower away too much.

“I’m sorry,” Rin whispers. “Don’t be mad anymore, I’m sorry for being a dick, come home, I'll leave, I just need to know that you're safe.”

He coaxes you into coming home with him, that you can come pick up your car tomorrow because he knows you hate driving in heavy rain. That he’ll pay for whatever parking fees you have accumulated. That you can talk- really talk it out, together at home.

The look Rin gives Isagi is less than friendly when you bid your farewells. You deem it compulsory to go out tomorrow to buy a gift for the poor soccer player, who has been an involuntary witness to the mess that is tonight.

There is concern in Isagi’s eyes when you turn around to wave goodbye.

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #cw toxic relationship #todoriin

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Grumpy Lumberjack and his Baby Bun

pairing: Lumberjack!Henry × Wife!Pregnant!Reader

summary: Compilation of all the dirty things Henry as done to his baby bun, especially when she's pregnant (lactation, spit, dumbification, toys)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

Lumberjack Masterlist, Henry Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Lumberjack!Henry gives Shy!Reader a collar:

“Baby bun av’ got ya a little somethin’” Henry called out into the warm cabin, his nose already sniffing out for her strawberry scented shampoo, his smirk growing once he watched her waddle into the room. His dried cum still plastered on her thighs, “Turn around for me sugar, need to see if ya followed me rules” He whistled seeing the pink ruby butt plug still deep inside her asshole, something he had set in an hour or two ago.

Truthfully he didn’t know, the entire sexathon leaving them both dazed and blissed out. “W-what is it?” She giggled climbing onto his lap once he sat down, her lower half completely bare, wearing only a tank top that Henry wore to work out. “S’ a pretty necklace jus’ for my baby” He smiled booping her nose, babying her just as she liked, her giggles once again filling his ears as she leant forward eagerly.

Pulling a jewelled choker from a fancy looking bag he presented the beautiful diamond thing, with the centre containing a rather large charm, the letter ‘H’ “W-woah so pretty, i-is it all mine?” She gawked seeing the piece of jewellery being clipped around the back of her neck, her hips wiggling happily as Henry leant forward to kiss her pouty lips eagerly. His fingers pinching her jaw to open her mouth, letting him spit into it filthily, using his two fingers to lather his saliva all over her tongue before he told her to swallow.

“Good baby” He cooed as she gulped down awaiting praise from him, having only been engaged a few days, they had definitely ramped their relationship up to the next level. “Take my shirt off sugar cube, wanna see my babygirl’s pretty tits with her diamond neck” Tugging on the hem of the vest she wore, it only took a mere few seconds before it was thrown somewhere out there. His hands immediately coming up to grope and knead at the two globes of flesh, his mouth spitting into the valley between them, rubbing the tits together to get them all wet and shiny with his mouth.

“I feel beautiful!” She squealed feeling him tweak and pinch at her perked up nipples, if there was anything Henry knew how to do, it was to make his sugar pie feel loved, wanted and beautiful. He was doing a darn good job at doing it too. “Cause you are beautiful, too beautiful it kills me” He growled his eyes trained on her whole upper body as if it was a magnet; God he couldn’t wait to plant the idea of babies into her clouded little mind. The picture of her all swollen and big with his baby made him feral just by the thought, and imagine her toddling around town pregnant with the jackpot of a collar around her neck. There’d be no doubt that she belonged to the lonely (no longer lonely) grumpy lumberjack that occupied the luxurious cabin in the mountains, Henry Cavill.

Shaking his head out of his own thoughts Henry watched as she poked and traced over each diamond delicately, her pretty eyes wide and sparkly just how he liked them. As if there was some spectacle to look at. Sneaking his phone out of his pocket he cursed himself when he snapped a photo of his fiancé, her tits exposed to the camera along with her face, her smile big; that was until the camera shutter went off and a grump formed on her face.

“Y-you can’t just take photos o-of me like that” She snarked slapping his shoulder gently as he pouted along with her and kissed her lips tenderly muttering a small sorry which he didn’t really mean. That photo was fucking golden. “Ya gotta l-let me get ready first H-hen”

She immediately smiled towards the camera, showing off the diamonds as she held onto the choker, her pearly whites showing as she squinted her eyes to let her smile grow larger. A smile which pulled at Henry’s heartstrings at how happy she looked, “So pretty baby, my pretty girl” He crooned looking back on the two pics so far, his eyes widening when she posed again, this time pushing her tits together to hug the ‘H’ pendant hanging off the choker. His baby bun was filthy and he fuckin’ knew it, he had corrupted her well and truly.

Picture after picture was taken until she finally took the phone out of his hand, angling it at a higher angle to get both their smiling faces in the shot, his hands grabbing onto each breast greedily. One would even say there was a photo of her tit greedily sucked into his mouth, her face still having that same wide smile, as if her husband wasn’t trying to milk her breasts.

Shy!Reader afraid of giving birth:

Henry’s heart started hammering when his hand went to the other side of the bed, his wife’s side was empty, and holy fuck she was pregnant too. Throwing the covers off, “Y/n?! Where are ya baby bun?!” He shouted using her actual name, something he didn’t do unless he was REALLY mad or worried about something.

“M-m’ here daddy” He heard her voice whimper out, his cock stirring from the choice of nickname. Ever since he had brought the name up during sex, she had started using it whenever she needed extra comfort from her beast of a man, after-all he was literally about to be the father of her babies.

Turning the corner to the kitchen he found her munching away on her chocolate chips, her newfound obsession during pregnancy. “I-I need a hug” She whispered looking at him from the bar stool, her eyes glossy with her arms out waiting for him, a tiny humph leaving her as Henry picked her up and sat her onto his lap. “I’ll give you all the hugs in the world sugar, anytime you need one ya let me know, but no more runnin’ off outta bed alright?” He whispered against the shell of her ear, his hand coming down to cup the front of her protruding belly, it was now evident that she was carrying twins, his miracles. “sorry, I-I wanted to t-think but then I got h-hungry” She sniffled pointing at the near empty packet of biscuits, her body curling itself as best as possible into Henry’s warm one. “What’s goin on in that pretty head a’ yours, what’s botherin’ my sugar, my baby momma”

“I-I. I’m scared. I-I know it’s going to hurt but i’m scared, n-n anxious, a c-section is s-scary, they gotta cut open my stomach and they’ll see my guts and-“

“Hey hey hey, stop rushin’ the thoughts baby, it’s totally normal to feel scared; heck i’m so proud of you baby, my strong baby bun” He whispered peppering kisses to her neck until he felt her start to laugh and wiggle on his lap. “I’ll be right beside you Y/n, every step of the bloody thing, I’ll be there when they place the tiny tots on your chest.”

“Holding my hand?”

“Holding your hand”

Vibrator in the panties:

Henry practically cackled watching his wife try to go about her daily habits, a wobble in her step as she tried to soothe the hard vibrations erupting in the panties. She knew something was up when Henry said she could wear panties at home today, she should have know he would do something like this. A built in vibrator placed right against her swollen clit, and she knew she couldn’t touch herself either, not with Henry’s rules, so she really was left on her own here.

Giving up on even trying to play with Marly her kitten, she huffed grabbing onto her weighted blanket Henry got her, if she had to suffer then he would too.

Straddling Henry’s lap she let the vibrator hit right against his cock whilst also hitting her pussy, Henry’s cock jerking with each rhythm of vibrations, his hands gripping onto her silk covered ass cheeks as he groaned and growled from the sensation. Guess he should have seen this coming too. “S-see Henry, I-I can be bold too” She whimpered slowly rolling her hips against his, her hands clenched around his shoulders as he bit his lip at the sight of her all blissed out. She had cum three times already in the space of an hour, her pussy raw and swollen and sticky with her own juices; that was until Henry decided to give her a squeaky clean shower with the shower head right on her pussy, before sticking a new pair of the same panties on her freshly washed pussy.

“Oh yeah bold” He grumbled slightly hating himself for even making the purchase now, his cock aching feeling the lips of her wet pussy clinging to his cock through the fabric, yet he couldn’t feel her. And he promised her he could keep the panties on all day, fucks sake.

When Shy!reader’s milk comes in:

“H-Hen? Come in here p-please?!” Y/n shouted from the bedroom where she had basically been nesting for the past few weeks now that she was getting closer to her due date, Henry was now on the go to getting prepared for the new arrivals, painting the nursery and getting the furniture (asking Y/n for colour schemes of course)

“Yes baby bun” Henry smirked standing by the doorway seeing her perched naked on her pregnancy pillow, it was getting to warm for her to be wearing clothes, hence Henry was now getting a free show 24/7 and he didn’t mind. With his wife’s sex drive being through the roof, it was practically easy access for him to slip in behind her in bed and fuck her senseless, or bend her over the kitchen counter as he pleases. Although that position was now getting harder with how swollen her ankles were getting.

“M-m leakin’” She pouted sitting up against the headboard, squeezing her swollen tits to show Henry that tiny beads of white milk where erupting from her rosebud.

Henry was waiting for this since the day he fucking met her, breeding her so hard that he’d be able to milk her tits into his waiting mouth before his babies arrived. “Oh baby they’re ready, so gorgeous n’ full” He gaped sitting beside her on the bed, her body facing his as he let his hands cup her massive jugs, expanded full with milk that she had produced. He took notice of how she winced clearly feeling tense, he let his hands softly bounce them in the palm of his hand, his fingers tugging lightly on her larger nipples surrounded by a now darker areola.

“Want daddy to make ya feel better sugar pie? I know how to make the soreness go away” He cooed rubbing his thumb over the too of her breasts soothingly, her lips pouted as she nodded desperately, eager to get rid of the extra weight on her chest that had a arrived a tad bit early. “Alright sit back against the headboard for me honey, daddy’s jus’ gonna suck the sweet milk right outta your tits”

“B-but isn’t that just for babies?” She asked confused, cocking her head to the side like an innocent puppy. “Don’t Ya know the daddy’s gotta test the milk for the babies?” He raised a brow, questioning her as if what he said was just common knowledge, “O-oh okay” She smiled leaning back against her pregnancy pillow, watching on as her husband’s full lips wrapped around one nipple, small whimpers and groans leaving her lips as she suckled softly consistently; small groans and hums leaving his lips every time he detached from her nipples to give it a passionate tongue kiss as if it was her mouth before resuming his suckling.

He continued to do this for another 15 minutes before switching to the other breast, before this time collecting the milk in his mouth and spitting it right into his wife’s waiting mouth, his tongue scavenging through her mouth roughly as they tasted her sweet breastmilk. “T-tastes good” She admitted shyly, her body feeling flush, “Does taste good doesn’t it baby? S’ useful too”

He groaned sitting up to release his cock out of his briefs, squirting some of her milk right onto his palm before he used it to lube up his cock; just how dirty could he get? “Squirt some more milk on me momma, need it so bad” He groaned smirking as she squeezed at her breasts hard enough that the pressure caused it to squirt right at him, “o-oh crap I don’t knot howta’ aim” She giggled watching the milk drip down his chest and mixing in with the trail of curls that nestled at the base of his cock.

“S’okay baby bun we got time to practice, now I think we should give your puffy pussy a sweet taste too don’t ya think?” Before she could even protest Henry was already attached back onto her nipples, massaging them in circular motions to help get the milk flowing right onto his thick wet tongue. His body burning as he spat right onto her slit, massaging it through her folds, letting his fingers find her wet snug hole. “a-ah daddy” She moaned eagerly wiggling her hips, and Henry gave her exactly what she wanted, pushing in two of his rough fingers in; practically filling her up already. Her breasts squirting a tiny bit of milk each time he thrusted inside her, almost like it was part of her response to his depravity. “Look at those tits go baby, fuckin’ milkin all over the place like a cow” He chuckled watching her whine and whimper at the pressure of her breasts slowly emptying, her clit and hole being played simultaneously and Henry’s stare was just out of this world.

Mixed with love, filth, obsession and lust for the pregnant woman in front of him, his lips coming back onto her nipples once again; Y/n knew instantly that this would become a habit and she knew she loved it

—-///

PSA: Hope this fulfilled some queries about their relationship! Next fic of lumberjack!Henry will be them settling in with their tiny tots, something like that :)

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

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Hope you all enjoy!!

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