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sluttywoozi · 4 months

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Like A Melody | ljh x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~3.9k | Pairing: ljh x f!reader | genre: smut

Jihoon has fucked you in his studio before, but never like this.

Warnings: dom!jihoon, studio sex, biting, hair pulling, grinding, cumming in pants, multiple orgasms, oral f. rec., fingering, recorded sex (just voices), male masturbation, praise kink, piv sex, creampie

Reader Notes: chubby, has breasts and a vagina, subby

Jihoon needs to take a break.

He desperately needs to take a break, and he knows this, so why can’t he do it?

He’s been working on music for hours; his fingers are starting to cramp from plucking guitar strings and pressing down piano keys, his throat is sore from trying lyric after lyric, and his hair is a mess from his fingers running through it every other minute. His eyes are exhausted, the blue light lenses in his glasses only doing so much. Even his back hurts, which rarely happens now that he lifts so heavy.

But he just can’t make himself quit, which is why he breathes a sigh of relief when he hears the knock. It’s soft, just like you, and he calls out a quiet, “Come in,” feeling the smile stretch his lips as soon as your sweet face peeks through the slowly opening door.

“Are you busy?” You ask apprehensively, your eyes darting between his face and his computer.

He can’t take a break for himself but he can for you, so he says, “Not at all, baby,” and pulls his glasses off, minimizing his music production software. Pushing away from his desk, he turns his chair to face you and holds his hand out, waiting for you to come closer and take it. He just holds your hand for a minute, staring up at you with tired eyes and letting them blink closed when you lean down and press your lips to his.

Kissing you is as easy as loving you. It’s one of the few times in his life where he can shut his brain off and just feel, because every movement comes naturally to him. Dancing and singing do too, of course, but he has to count beats and remember words and keep every next move in mind.

With you, Jihoon can just do what feels right. Like taking hold of your knee with his free hand and pulling until you give in and straddle him in his chair. He loves how plush and perfect you feel against him, all of his sharp edges rounded out by your curves, and he loves even more having your weight on him.

He can take it, he can take you, and he likes to remind you at every opportunity.

Sliding lower in the chair, he pulls your hips into his to let you feel his hardening dick, his hand flexing in yours when you grind down. He can feel how hot you are through your little pajama shorts, and if he knows you at all, you’re wet already. He works his fingers free of yours to slide them between your legs, pulling your shorts and panties to the side so he can feel you through his thin athletic pants.

Your arousal soaks the fabric as soon as he thrusts up into you, making him let out a small laugh against your lips. You pout in response and mutter, “Shut up,” still working your hips against his.

“Didn’t say anything, baby,” he teases, smirking up at you and squeezing your lush hips with both hands. You sink yours into his hair and pull, and suddenly, nothing is funny. His hips buck against yours as his cock twitches, precum leaking from the head adding to the wet patch on his lap.

Your hips roll into his and he starts to throb, his dick pulsing in time with his heart. He can’t let you keep going or you’ll make him cum in his pants, or maybe… he could?

Should he?

It makes you feel good to make him feel good, and you always have a little pep in your step after he lets you make him cum first. He’s also desperate to get his mouth on you, and you’ll be more inclined to let him take care of you if he’s already taken care of.

With his mind made up, he pulls you down onto his cock and grinds into you, exhaling a moan against your mouth when you tug on his hair again. You love it this length, you’ve told him, and he’s going to keep it like this for as long as he possibly can. Partially for you, mostly because he fucking adores having you brush it and play with it and braid it.

He gets to be so close to you, and your fingers in his hair feel heavenly, even (especially) when you get a little rough.

His scalp stings with the next pull and it sends a shiver down his spine, ending in a sharp buck of his hips. He stretches his thumbs out to pull your pussy apart so he can grind into your clit, hoping to take you over the edge with him.

He’s getting close already, and you’re so wet, he can feel every inch of your cunt like there’s nothing separating him from you. Soon enough, there will be nothing, and he’ll be able to lick and suck and kiss you as much as he wants.

You bite his lip and drag your nails over his scalp, and that’s it for him.

His brain goes offline and his hips stutter against yours, a low groan leaving his open mouth as his dick twitches and jerks, streaks of cum splattering the inside of his pants. Your hips don’t stop moving until he stops them himself, his harsh grip dimpling your flesh.

“Fuck,” Jihoon sighs, blinking his eyes open to find you beaming at him.

He can only smile wryly at you in response, shaking his head and letting go of your hips to grab you by the waist.

“Up you go,” he pushes, hefting you up to sit on his keyboard, discordant notes filling the studio until he leans forward and presses mute.

“Are you su-”

“I’ve literally dreamed about this,” he tells you, for the first time.

“You have?” You almost sound like you don’t believe him, and Jihoon simply can’t have that.

“Yes. I’ve dreamed about spreading you out on my desk just like this,” he shoulders his way between your legs. “And kissing up these thighs,” he presses his mouth to your soft skin, digging his teeth in only once, though he wants to leave you covered in bite marks.

“And feeling them squeeze my head when I finally get you on my tongue,” he leans in and licks from your cunt to your clit, fighting a smile when your thighs snap closed just like he knew they would.

He wants to talk to you more but he can’t pull himself away from your pussy, can’t make his mouth form words when he’s so busy using it on you. And honestly, his priority is keeping it on you, for as long as he possibly can.

Between work and sleep, he doesn’t get to taste you nearly as often as he wants to, and now that he actually is between work and sleep, he plans on making the most of it. By shoving his tongue inside you over and over, by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking until you cry, by groaning and humming into you both so you can feel the vibrations and to voice his obsession with your pussy.

And Jihoon is obsessed with your pussy, make no mistake. If he didn’t love his job so much, he’d quit and spend all his time worshiping you, taking care of you, loving you. He honestly thinks he’d make a killer house husband, and someday, when he retires, he plans on becoming one.

He can imagine it now, cleaning and working out and sleeping until you come home, then feeding you and fucking you till the sun sets, reading to you and massaging away any soreness before wrapping you up in his arms and falling to sleep together. He can still make music while you’re gone, but he won’t be jetting off or practicing for hours on end anymore.

He’s not ready for that now, but for a distant dream, it’s pretty enticing.

Even more enticing is the paradise between your thighs; the taste of you, the scent of you, the feel of you clouding his mind. He can barely breathe but that doesn’t matter, not when you’re moving with his tongue like this, grinding your hips onto his face as he sucks and sucks and sucks at your swollen little clit.

He wishes he could record the sounds coming out of your mouth, wishes he could play them back to you, watch you squirm and feel you flush at the sheer debauchery of them. It occurs to him that he could, but he’d have to pull away from you enough to ask and he’s unable to do so at the moment.

You’re just too hot and wet and perfect for him to stop for even a second, so he’ll save that idea for another time and focus on making you cum for him now. He can tell you’re getting close, by the way your thighs shudder against his ears, by the keen you let out when he sucks hard enough to hollow his cheeks, by the hand you sink into his hair to hold him to you, as if he’d ever want to leave.

All it takes is a groan and a shake of his head and you’re cumming, your arousal leaking all over his chin and dripping down his throat to soak into the neckline of his t-shirt. He’ll take it off as soon as he gains the will to detach himself from you.

It doesn’t come to him until his eyes travel up your body and catch on the way your tits heave in your sleep tank. He wants to see them, feel them, taste them, bury his face in them.

Finally, he stands and rips off his shirt, leaning over you and waiting for you to raise your arms before tugging your top off and throwing it to the side. He takes a second to appreciate your bare breasts, the shape and weight of them intoxicating, and then shoves his face between them, licking over to one nipple and opening his mouth around it with a groan.

He fucking loves your tits, and he shows you just how much with his lips and his teeth and his tongue, one thigh between yours to hold them open for his searching fingers. They find your clit with practiced ease and start to rub staccato circles, chasing you when your hips buck in sensitivity.

He covers your other breast with his free hand, squeezing and brushing his thumb over your pebbled nipple as he sucks at its twin. You must have already showered, your skin tasting like your honey and cocoa butter lotion, and he can’t get enough, his head filling with clouds and images of you dripping wet and running your hands all over your body.

He’s gotten you messy again, but he’s sure you knew what you were doing when you knocked on his studio door. This is almost always how you end up when you come to check on him, his hunger for you insatiable, incurable.

How could he ever get enough of you when you’re this luscious, this sweet, this perfect? His mouth strays from your breast to your stomach, his lips tracing your rolls and stretch marks and cute little belly button before he sinks back down into his chair. He pushes your legs apart with a firm hand and replaces his fingers with his tongue, gliding it over you and sliding his fingers down to your entrance.

He fills you with them slowly even as your cunt flutters and squeezes, wanting them deeper already. He’ll give you what you want, he always does, but first he’ll tease you a little bit. Not to be mean, or to punish you for something, but because he fucking loves to hear you beg.

It always takes you a little push to lose your shyness, to find your voice, and this time, his push comes in the form of three fingers stretching your entrance open, sinking in only to the first knuckle. Your hips roll into his hand and his free one flies up to hold them still, his arm banding over your lap to hold you down so he can fill you at his pace.

He goes much slower than he knows you would prefer, and he presses his smile into your clit when you finally break down.

“Jihoon, please, I’ve been so good for you,” you whine, and he feels the heat spread from head to toe as he realizes it’s one of those nights. The kind where you need him to take control, to be rough with you, to reward you when you’ve earned it.

And you have earned it, so he lets his fingers fill you, pushing them in all the way and murmuring into your clit, “You have been good, baby. I’ll give you what you need, promise.”

You just whimper, your head tilting back on your neck when he scissors his fingers apart and your walls clinging to them as he pulls them out to the tip. “Eyes on me, baby.”

He waits for you to return your gaze to his before pushing his fingers back inside of you and beginning to fuck you with them, his lips pursing around your clit and sucking with every thrust. Your pussy is so fucking hot and wet around his fingers, it makes him moan into you, just the thought of feeling you wrapped around his cock enough to reawaken it.

It twitches in his damp boxers when a curl of his fingers beckons forth a rush of wetness and a sharp keen, one that echoes in his mind like a looped track.

“Baby, can I record you?”

He asks before he can stop himself, but now that it’s out in the air, he won’t take it back. He rests his cheek against your thigh as he waits, his heart pounding and his dick throbbing.

“Um, sure?” You don’t sound certain, and Jihoon doesn’t want you to regret anything. He can always delete them, but he doesn’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.

“You don’t have to say yes, Y/n. I just think it would be… really fucking hot. Having your voice on file, being able to listen to you whenever I want, using your sounds in songs that will never be heard by anyone but us.”

You squirm under his forearm and clench around his fingers, and he believes you when you say, “Do it, Jihoon. Record me.”

His lips stretch in a broad, genuine smile and he reaches for the computer mouse, opening his recording software and clicking the red button.

He watches little waves form on the baseline, curls his fingers, grinds them into the rough patch inside of you, and arches an eyebrow. You gasp weakly, seemingly shy now that your noises are being picked up by something other than his ears.

Jihoon can be patient though, knows that soon enough, he’ll make you forget all about it.

You’re still being good, holding eye contact and keeping your thighs spread for him, so he rewards you with his mouth around your clit, a heavy suck startling a moan from your parted lips. He fights a smile, his lips pursing and pulling at the swollen bundle of nerves, and starts to hum, knowing you love the vibrations.

He can’t see the software from here but the wave must spike because you let out a sharp cry, your nails scratching at the edge of his desk until he takes your hands and puts them on his head. Your fingers delve into his hair and you pull his face into your pussy, and he knows he’s got you.

He didn’t really consider the mic picking up his own noises but he’s sure it is, his grunts and groans audible even with your thighs pressed to his ears. He can’t stop though, can’t hold them in when you taste so fucking good, when your cunt is searing hot and soaking wet under his mouth, when your nails are scratching at his scalp and sending zaps of electricity down his spine.

They all end in his cock, and he feels it jerk against the waistband of his boxers. He’s tired of them, removes his arm from your hips to shove them and his pants down, groaning loudly when his cock pops out into the open air. It’s sticky with cum and hard enough to hurt, and he can’t resist taking hold of it with his free hand, squeezing hard at the base to ease some of the ache.

His fingers thrust into you as he strokes his dick, the slick sounds loud in his studio, and you crane your neck, your eyes searching until they find his hand at work.

“Fuck, Jihoon, I want you inside of me,” you whine breathlessly, trying to pull him off your cunt by the hair. That just makes him moan into you, makes his cock jump in his grasp, makes him fuck his fingers into you harder.

“Cum for me first,” he demands, determined to get at least two orgasms on this file for mixing purposes. It seems he’s still a producer even when he’s trying to just be a boyfriend.

You pout but listen well, your cries reaching a fever pitch as your pussy flutters around his fingers, arousal spilling out of you and dripping between the keys of his keyboard. He may have to buy a new one, but that’s a problem for future Jihoon, and a problem he would be lucky to have.

“Perfect, baby, that was perfect,” he murmurs in a low tone, wanting your voice to be the focal point.

“Will you fuck me now?” You pant, reaching down to smooth your fingers over the head of his cock, making him shiver and swallow a groan.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll fuck you now,” he whispers, standing from the chair and pulling away from you to tug you off his desk. Your knees shake when you get your feet under you and he smirks, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your lips before taking you by the hips and turning you around.

He squeezes your shoulder and starts pushing you down, letting you bend over the rest of the way by yourself. You fold your arms under your head, resting your cheek on them so you can watch as he guides his dick to your cunt and sinks inside.

You’re stretched out enough to take him easily, your walls forming to his cock and gripping it tightly. You’re such a perfect fucking fit for him, it’s like you were made for one another, like your bodies were designed to match. It blows his mind every single time he has the privilege of being inside of you.

He’s reluctant to leave you and you’re reluctant to let him, but pulling out means he can thrust back in. He keeps one hand on your shoulder and drops the other to your hip, clutching at it like a lifeline as he starts to fuck you in earnest.

His hips smack into your plush ass rhythmically, the sound causing sharp spikes on the waveform graph and acting as the perfect percussion to the moans and whimpers escaping you. The mic is right by your mouth and he knows they’re being picked up beautifully, butterflies gathering in his stomach just at the thought of getting to hear them through his headphones.

“Sound so fuckin’ pretty, baby,” he grunts, angling his hips up to hit your g-spot and smirking when you yelp at the sensation. Your back arches, your stomach pressing into his keyboard and your hips pressing into his, and he just holds you tighter, fucks into you harder.

Your pussy undulates around him as his hand slides from your shoulder to join the other at your hip, both of them gripping your ass and spreading you apart so he can watch his cock enter you again and again. It’s a sight he’ll never get tired of, a feeling he’ll never get used to, a gift he’ll never truly deserve.

It’s what will send him over the edge, just as long as he makes you fall first. He already came before you once and he doesn’t plan on doing so again for a long time, but he needs to get you there soon or he won’t have a choice.

One of his hands slips around your waist to dive between your legs, his fingers finding your sensitive clit and starting to strum it as he fills you over and over. You whimper and tremble against him, your cunt fluttering wildly around his aching cock and your hand flying down to grasp his wrist like you think he’ll pull away.

He doesn’t intend to, honestly wouldn’t mind being attached to you like this for the rest of his life, knows already that he wants to spend it with you.

His fingers get rougher on your clit and his hips move on autopilot as his brain empties, his balls aching to do the same. “Please cum, fuck. Baby, please fucking cum.”

Jihoon should have known he’d be the one begging you at the end of the night.

Thankfully, you like to indulge him, your pussy locking him in place as you cum with a loud cry, followed by gasping sobs of his name when he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s right there, he’s right fucking-

“Jihoon, cum inside me. Fill me up, I want it,” you whimper, pressing your ass into his hips and squeezing your inner muscles around his throbbing cock, and that’s the end for him.

He drops down to cover your body with his as he breaks apart, his own moans and whimpers registering on the graph alongside yours and his cum flooding into you in pulses. His hand leaves your clit so he can wrap his arm around your waist in a hug, his cheek pressed to your back and his other hand finding yours.

He tangles your fingers together and rises up, pulling you with him and sitting heavily in his chair. He’s still hard enough his cock doesn’t slip out, and he leans you to the side so he can cup your cheek and turn your face into his, pressing his lips to yours in an openmouthed kiss.

“Love you, baby,” he whispers into your mouth, waiting for you to say it back before kissing his way to your neck and biting down gently, just enough to leave an indent of his teeth behind.

“Will you come to bed with me?” You whisper in a small voice, and he returns his lips to yours, kissing you deeply and responding, “Of course, baby.”

He reaches a hand out and stops the recording, saving the file to his private hard drive, ideas filling his head already. They can wait until the morning though, you asked him to go to bed with you and go to bed he will.

Jihoon thinks this might be the most productive break he’s ever had.

AN: this one's for all the jihoon stans who have been thirsting with me lately 💖

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sapphic-bats · 2 months

Text

Warlock asks Nanny about it once.

She’s cutting apples for him, just the way he likes, and he’s gazing out of the window at the lush, green gardens that his mother so proudly upholds. Among the waxy leaves and spindly saplings, Brother Francis tends to the flora carefully, though Warlock’s quite sure he’s just taking certain leaves between his finger and his thumb, and studying them closely. But what did Warlock know about gardening?

He notices Nanny looking out those windows, too. Though she always gazes and stares with a deep intent, as if she only cares when she does, and it so happens that she never looks upon the garden empty.

What was that funny thing Nanny and Brother Francis had taught him? The thing that Nanny discouraged, to which Brother Francis promoted quite devoutly?

“Nanny, have you ever been married?”

Warlock knows what marriage is. After all, his parents are married, if you can call it that. They married, once, out of love. But it’s since faded. It’s more traditional, now. Out of convenience and a general apathy to trying again.

Nanny’s quick hand stills, blade edge flat against the cutting board. With her back turned to the young boy, he cannot make out her expression. He never can, what with her poised shades she wears pointedly upon her nose. But she speaks soon again.

“No,” she replies, simply.

Warlock considers this. “Do you ever want to be?”

Nanny, who had taken up the cutting again, pauses once more. She sets the knife against the board and tilts her chin towards Warlock. “Wherever have you learned such personal questions, dear?”

She’s not refusing to answer him. She never has. She just asks in true curiosity, and perhaps a slight avoidance. But Warlock’s eight, now, and he knows how to navigate her tricks.

“Where do you think?”

At that, she pauses, lips pursed with their consistent purple tint. The lipstick she wears, that faintly stains Warlock’s forehead when she kisses him goodnight and tucks him in after a bedtime story: often about a garden, or a bird that chirped too loudly, and was cast down to the ground by the other birds. One who became the kind bird of the grounds, and took in other reject birds that had fallen similarly.

She considers his answer a moment more, satisfied with the obvious influence she’s had on him. She turns back to the apple slices.

“Perhaps,” she answers.

There is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t mind, he’s grown up with Nanny at his side, and has become quite fond of the silence. It is where thoughts are made, she said once.

She finishes cutting the apples, and plates the sweet snack to serve to the boy. “What troubles you, dear? You seem awfully curious, all of the sudden.”

Not that she minds. Nanny never rejects curiosity.

“Nothing’s wrong, Nanny, it’s just—” he pauses, considers his next words and how to place them. “You look at Brother Francis a lot, and—”

Nanny interrupts him after an audible, suspicious gulp. “Who?”

He frowns, eyes boring into the back of her head. “You know Brother Francis.”

She seems quite comically nervous, like she’s pressed a wax-seal act over her true thoughts. “Oh, yes,” she decides, too much breath coming with her words. “The gardener.”

“You like him, Nanny.”

She turns, abruptly. “I most certainly do not!” Her voice comes out a tad shrill, though perhaps it’s just outrage and scandal.

Warlock narrows his eyes, perplexed. “But you look at him all of the time.”

“When has that ever had anything to do with- with love?” She struggles with the word.

The boy shrugs. “Mum and Dad don’t look at each other,” Warlock observes. “But Brother Francis looks for you, too.”

Nanny’s mouth, ready with a retort, or perhaps a counter-argument, flicks towards a different shape. One that might be, he does? Or perhaps Warlock is mistaken. She pauses, lips pursed again, and sets her teeth.

“I’m sure he does, love.”

The plate is set before him, and Warlock soon forgets his questions. He never asks Nanny again.

But he’s reminded of it when her eyes, barely visible in the light, flick towards the window into the dazzling garden.

Years later, Warlock is nearly sixteen, and has since let the thoughts from half his lifetime ago fade. They never die, just sort of… wait. Wait to be plucked again, notes of memory leaping from their tinny strings. Like a harp.

His mother takes him into town. Soho, where he has no interest in seeing, but his mother so desperately needs a new vinyl, a coffee, and though she never says it: a moment to get away from the house, or more specifically, her husband within it.

She agrees to let him wander. She trusts him, for all she hasn’t before. And perhaps, she says, the fresh, un-televised air could do him some good.

He’s only taken two steps out of the coffee shop, where his mother remains to await her tea, before he almost runs smack into two pedestrians, arm in arm. He takes a surprised jump back, tongue set with an angry scolding, when he gets a good look at them from behind.

“Nanny?”

They both freeze in unison, as if they both know the name, and the voice that has conjured it forth once more for the first time in five years. Warlock notices something else.

“Brother Francis?” He prods, shocked. “Izzat you?”

Both of the two now turn, and everything around the three fades into blurring colors and churning noises.

Warlock would be a rotten liar if he had said he hadn’t missed them dearly. He would also be a lousy boy if he didn’t recognize them by the backs of their heads alone, he thinks. Because he would know them anywhere. They’d always done a much better job at raising him than his own parents.

They both look different now. Brother Francis seems to have had dental work done, and has cleaned up quite nicely. Nanny, though, appears to have changed her style completely. Her- his? Their? Who knows. But she still sports a fine pair of shades upon the bridge of her nose.

The pair seem to stutter, splutter with a little awestruck surprise. It’s as if they’d never expected to see him again.

“Oh- Warlock,” Nanny Ashtoreth begins, feigning a cool-headed surprise. “How good to see you.”

She sounds different too. Less of a high strain on her voice, more natural.

But Warlock seems to finally feel a gear shift, and a puzzle piece clicks into place. He glances down to the space between the two, where their arms are linked.

In his dumbfounded state, he feels a smile split the trance.

They both see it at the same time, chins tilting to follow his gaze. When they catch where his eyes are, their stares mingle together in concern. It’s a look that wonders aloud whether or not they should be worried, or blatant.

Warlock looks back up to their faces. “I see now why you two left,” he adds, grinning wider.

He can’t help it. He was right all along.

Warlock remembers something, then. It takes all of his power not to burst out into a triumphant laugh.

“I’m sure he does,” he says, slyly.

Nanny’s eyes, illuminated from behind with daylight, widen. She remembers, too. Of course she does.

And she bites back a twinning smile.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #ineffable idiots #warlock good omens #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #nanny ashtoreth #brother francis #good omens fic #good omens ficlet #fic #ficlet #author #ao3 #good omens fan fiction

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ellieslittlewh0re · 4 months

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I have read your story groupie love and omg did I love it, but i kept thinking about having sex with angry drunk Ellie, and I think you would be amazing at writing this.

Also read some of your other story’s i love them so much your amazing at writing.

I’m so sorry for the delay but yes!! I love this 😩💕

"𝑩𝑰𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹"

₊˚ପ⊹. 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 - 𝖾. 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

₊˚ପ⊹. 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌 - 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 (𝖽𝗎𝗁), 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀

*𝖺/𝗇 - 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 :(

God, the way I can picture this so vividly- her face reading stone cold, and practically had the words "pissed off" written across her forehead, silently sitting beside you in the back of the Uber as you two made your way back to your shared apartment. Her knuckles whitened in a fist that rested on her thigh, and even though she was looking away from you, you could see the prominent, sharp angle of her jaw clenching.

She was drunk- well, the both of you were, but her even more so, but the tension between you two sobered you right up. She however, was still fully ignited, the alcohol proving to feed her anger further as you two made it up to your apartment.

She pushed you inside, and slammed the door behind her, giving you two the privacy she wanted to unleash whatever it is she wanted on you.

Before you could even settle in, take your shoes off, put down your purse, etc... she pushed you against the wall, and placed her hands on either side of your head, caging your body in with hers.

You say her name softly and with such submission, looking for her eyes that were hanging lowly at your chest which started to rise and fall more quickly.

"Ellie-" you said again, this time more serious as fear started to take over.

Ellie's eyes slowly came up, trailing your bare décolletage, and how your collar bones pressed against the thin layer of skin with each deep exhale of your lungs. The usually bight, and lush color of her eyes were much darker, glimmering a speck of something that bordered on sinister.

She chuckled, the whiskey on her breath fanning your lips, and you feel her hand on your side, slowly dragging her fingers up, and over your tit until it was on your jaw. Her thumb and fingers indented the skin of your cheeks as she maneuvered your face side to side like she was examining your expressions more carefully.

"Did you want her to fuck you, huh? Is that it?" She gritted, but at the same time breathed heavily with hostility and desire, hearing her own voice like this turning her on that much more-

"N-no, no, Ellie-" Your denial is cut off with a yelp as her fingers continued to dig into the sides of your face, and your lips forcing a pucker.

"I know you're not fucking stupid. She was all over you, and you-" she scoffed, dropping her hand, "- you let it happen." Her words were slurred, and she almost sounded deranged like the mere topic had refreshened the memory.

You started to defend yourself, spewing your innocence to Ellie about how you were just being friendly, and you had no other intentions besides the fact that you simply enjoyed the conversation, but it fell on deaf ears.

Ellie's lips were on yours. The front of her body flush with your chest, and her hands grabbing you all over. She deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue inside as you parted your lips to let out a small gasp.

She broke away, her eyes glazed with drunken lust, focusing more heavily on your swollen, spit coated lips before quickly closing the space once more.

"Bed." She mumbled against your mouth, pulling you away from the plaster by your waist, and sloppily directing the two of you down the hall to your shared bedroom.

Finally, she had you, behind closed doors, and at her mercy. Any other time, she would've taken her time teasing you, edging you, but she was drunk, mad, and so fucking eager to take care of the mess inside her boxers.

She forcibly kissed you, backing you up into the room until the back of your knees buckle against the bed, causing you to fall back onto it.

She crawled on top, holding your hand down by your wrist, and her lips stinging into the flesh of your neck.

Ellie pulled away breathless, and quickly took notice how your hips were squirming against her calculatedly placed knee between your thighs.

She scoffs a chuckled, "oh yeah?", and skimmed the palm of her hand up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress up until the pink lace of your panties were exposed.

A small wet patch over your center welcomed her feeding eyes.

Ellie practically drooled at the sight, damn near choking on her own spit that overflowed inside her mouth from the mere thought of your taste on her tongue- the flimsy, see through fabric clinging to your puffy lips definitely not helping her desperation.

Ellie sucked the air through her teeth, placing her fingers on the plush of your lower stomach, and moved her thumb down your folds, exhaling an erotic breath as she did so.

Her brows knitted together, almost as if she was physically in pain because holy fuck-

She curled her fingers under the delicately sewn hem, pulling your panties down your legs and tossing it to the side. She mumbled a guttural "fuck" under her breath, spreading your knees apart with haste and a certain impatience that left a lingering sting.

Her lips and chin slowly disappear as she lowered herself down, and made her presence known by fanning warm breaths against your cunt before tempting a taste, but she was tempting herself just as much as she was tempting you. One lick wasn't enough. Hell, it would never be enough unless Ellie was smothered in your slick, dripping down her neck, and struggling to breathe with her nose buried inside you.

She needed more.

"Sit on my face." She more so demanded, positioning herself on the bed, and her hands already on your waist, pulling you on top of her.

"But Ellieuhh~" You wined against her lips until it turned into soft moans inside her mouth, her tongue twirling against your spongy muscle.

You straddled her waist and let her deepen the kiss however she wanted. Her hands began trailing under your dress, over your sides, and tits- palming and kneading the fat between her slender fingers.

Your clit thumped against her crotch- so hard to the point you were embarrassed she would feel it, but if only you knew how badly she ached for the same reason.

Your dress is peeled off your back and over your head- again being tossed somewhere without much thought from Ellie. And your hands were eager to do the same, both of you putting in the effort to take off Ellie's flannel, and Ellie taking it upon herself to discard her t-shirt underneath.

Your lips clash for another round, Ellie's arms cradling in the small of your back to hold your front closer to hers-

She broke away- lips glistening in a mixture of spit, casting a rose hue, and her irises blown wide-

"Fucking sit-" She gritted, her fingers tightening into the mounds of your ass before lightening her grip, "please." Her eyes softened- this time, begging.

What kind of girlfriend would you be to deny such a pretty little thing like herself of such needs? Especially when she asks so nicely.

You nodded shyly, and her arms wrapped around the underside of your thighs as you positioned yourself over her freckled face, your cheeks burning hotter by the second from the vulnerable position.

"What if I'm too heavy- ah-!" You yelped, the force of her hands pulling you down to her mouth catching you off guard, and definitely underprepared.

Your concerns seemed insufficient, and distant- her skilled tongue between your folds- lapping, and suctioning until her cheeks hallowed-

You melted against her tongue, slowly circling your hips and her fingers spreading the skin of your inner thighs so that she could wedge herself deeper into you.

Your hand breaks away from the headboard, coming down to intertwine your fingers in Ellie's hairline, squeezing her auburn locks close to the scalp, and held her in place as you dragged your cunt against her open mouth, using her like a toy.

Not like she was complaining.

"E-el... m'gonna cum-" You babbled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, and rolling your head back, completely captivated in the pleasure that you didn't even notice how one of Ellie's hands was absent from your thigh, and had sunk below her waistband.

Ellie's moans became louder, muffled, but still audibly louder, sending a deep rattle into your core as her hips rolled up into her fingers, fucking herself, but with much more restraint than you'd expect from a drunk person. But the truth is, she didn't want to cum like this.

You release her hair, needing the extra hand to steady yourself.

Your voice pitched as you dragged your hips for the final time across her face, strings of slick still connecting the both of you as you lifted your hips away.

With wobbly legs, you start to carefully lift yourself, but you weren't moving fast enough for her.

Your body bounces against the springs of the mattress from the sheer speed of her attack, pushing you down with her on top of you.

You feel her hand wrapped around your airway, squeezing the sides enough to feel a certain dizziness that had you melting.

She kissed you, immediately giving you a taste of yourself on her tongue.

"Did you think we were done?" Her breath fanned over your ear, intoxicating you all over again, which gave Ellie just the right amount of time to distract you, shoving her pants and boxers down her legs before you could comprehend what was happening.

Ellie lifted herself, her abs flexing with each heave of her lungs, moving one of your legs the outside of hers by your ankle.

The smallest whine leaves your lips once you see her... like really see her, dancing your gaze from her face and down to the prominent 'v' shape of her hips, calculating her every move.

Ellie was eager. And she had absolutely no issue handling you more roughly to suit her needs, whether it be supporting her weight on the back of your thigh, pressing your knee into your chest, or stretching you to new lengths that burned your muscles.

And that's exactly what she did.

She wedged herself between your legs, all of her weight on you as she lowered herself, letting out a relieved sigh and tossing her head back as her cunt made contact with yours.

Her hipbones protruded with each rhythmic motion of her hips, starting slowly at first but quickly getting faster to match her desperation. As sensitive as you were, you wouldn't dare push her away, not when she was this close, and definitely not when she's mad, knowing she could make this so much worse for you.

Her green eyes disappeared behind her paper thin lids, and her head goes back, "You have no idea how- mmhm... how badly I've wanted to do this all night." Her voice was shaky, airy, but still maintained a bitter undertone that reminded you how you got here in the first place.

Ellie's patience was thinning, and the restraint she maintained up until this point had gone out the window.

Your eyes glazed over, watching her with a dumb, fucked out expression, and your jaw loosely hung to let out small, pathetic whines.

Ellie, however, was pussy drunk. There was no other way to explain it. Her brows cinched together at the middle and pushed on your leg, spreading you further apart to ensure full contact before collapsing on top of you, breathing into her neck, "pussy s'good- fuck... you make me feel so good..." Her fingers wrapped around your neck, her lips lazily dragging over your jaw and cheek to plant delicate kisses, which completely contradicted what she was doing below.

Her head drops, and you feel her grip close in around your airway, rutting her hips at a much shorter and jagged pace than before.

You whined her name and sunk your nails into her forearm, your head fuzzy and bordering on unconsciousness.

"Shit...fuck-" She lifted her head from your chest and met your eyes, "-I know, baby. I know." Her voice was soothing, filled with so much sympathy, but it didn't make her any less relentless.

She shushes you with her lips on yours, adding her own moans to the mixture as tears stain your cheeks and seep between the kiss, leaving a salty/sweet tinge on your tongue.

Her hips started to falter before continuing, dragging out a few more long and weary thrusts, her moans ricocheting into the back of your throat until her hips finally stilled.

She softens the kiss, pecking the corner of your mouth before pulling away, and lifts a hand to run the back of her knuckles over your cheek- so sweet and so comforting with the alcohol weakening in her bloodstream, making her realize the anger she felt before was misplaced.

Sweat gleamed across the highs of her cheeks and across her nose, the vibrant hue of her eyes returning and practically begging to be forgiven.

"I love you." She whispers, her voice slightly horse and dry, flickering her eyes to various points of your face.

No, it wasn't the traditional "I'm sorry", but you knew what she meant.

Your hands come up, cupping the sides of her face, and pull her down to your lips.

"Apology accepted."

1K notes · View notes

beebabae · 11 months

Text

lipstick.

lovebirds - fluffy rintarou suna n fem!reader.

warnings - just a bit suggestive.

words - 250.

rintarou suna absolutely adores being covered in your lipstick kiss marks.

there’s just something so intimate and enduring about seeing the newly drawn bruises on his redden neck paired with the cherry pink hue of your favorite lipstick that made his stomach swarm with butterflies.

“rinnie, are you sure you want me kissing you with this lipstick on?” you worried, continuing to fidget absentmindedly with his messy hair while straddling his lap.

rintarou smiled lopsided with a familiar gleam in his yellowish eyes. a gleam you couldn’t deny you loved to see.

“of course, i do, princess.”

rintarou pulled your delicate frame closer to himself, eyes wavering between your plump pouting lips and your soft concerned eyes.

“but, baby, you know it stains.” you noted, shivering slightly at rintarou circling his rough thumb along your plush thigh.

“and that’s what i love about it.” rintarou whispered raspily against your lips, soon breaking the long awaited distance between the both of you.

rintarou’s kisses are careful but rushed. his calloused hands grabbed desperately at your lush hips, then your ass shamelessly.

gently tugging his bottom lip, you parted from the kiss and started sloppily peppering bunches of kisses and bruises along his collarbone and neck.

you departed from his heated skin to appreciate your work on your lover.

“you look so pretty for me, rin.” you cooed, tone sweeter than honey.

lips swollen and red, rintarou smiled lazily with a lovestruck helpless gaze at his beloved sweetheart, “only for you, princess.”

✩ sincerely, b. <3

#hantasbae #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #suna rintaro x reader #rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna x self insert #suna fluff #suna x female reader

4K notes · View notes

lanasblood · 11 months

Text

HOW DO I MAKE YOU LOVE ME | neteyam x reader

pairing: neteyam x f!omatikaya!reader (no mentions of y/n)

summary: you remember all of your attempts to make Neteyam fall in love with you, using various methods, experiencing numerous failures, and you finally come to a conclusion or the five times you failed to win neteyam’s affection and the one time you succeed.

word count: 10k (!!! damn)

warnings: actually none but let’s say hurt/comfort, reader is a simp, 5+1 prompt, confessing, mutual pining, mention of blood, requited/unrequited love, !!adult neteyam!!, flashbacks to childhood and teenager years

note: inspired by the five love languages and the weeknd’s song mentioned in the title.

* gif‘s not mine.

The soft rustling of the teal leaves falling silently to the ground, as light as an ikran feather, is one of the most soothing sounds heard on the still night. The wind touches them gently, as if caressing them, before whirling them up again in a powerful gust, starting the cycle all over again. The moons stand high in the sky, and the stars sparkle like little gems that can beautify anything. The night is quiet, and the soft breeze seems to calm everything down and lull it into a deep sleep. The bright light of the bioluminescent plants lays gently on the moist meadows, illuminating the darkness. It is like a magical tale, perfect and without blemish. Yet, there is one who can't sleep in this harmonic time: you. With your arms and legs stretched out, you lie on your back, feeling like hours have passed since you started staring at the night sky without moving a muscle. You have even decided to sleep outside your hammock to hear and feel the sound of the wind, hoping to finally sink into the dreamland. But, as you know, this has done little to help.

All because of him. You sigh in annoyance.

For as long as you can remember you've had this crush on the eldest son of the Olo'eyktan, you don't know when you developed it, let alone how it really started. You just know that it might have been cute at first – a nice girl from a small clan who has feelings for the older boy next door, but as time went by, it wasn't cute at all; on the contrary, it robs you of precious sleep and will most likely cause you to age prematurely.

Despite not knowing how and when exactly this crush thing has started, you know that it has gotten worse the more time has passed, and the more time passes, the more failed attempts to get his attention you have behind you. However, there's one event you categorize as time zero - the starting point of your attempts - that you remember vividly:

You were a mere child and couldn't take your eyes off Neteyam, who was only slightly older than you. Confidently clutching the stem of the rare flower you had been searching for days, you made your way through the lush forest, searching for Neteyam. As you thought about the plan you had concocted, your heart beat rapidly in your chest. You had heard from a reliable source that Neteyam was a lover of rare flora, and you hoped that this gift would make him see you in a different light.

When you spotted him in the distance, his tall figure was moving gracefully through the trees. Taking a deep breath, you approached him, holding out the flower to him.

"Hey, Neteyam," you said, trying to sound casual. "I found this and I thought you might like it."

Neteyam stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you, his expression unreadable. You held out the flower a bit higher, hoping to see a glimmer of appreciation in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said simply, slowly taking the flower from your outstretched hand. Looking at the flower now in his hand, the corner of his lips turned upward, causing your heart to flutter.

You told him happily, "It's a very rare flower," beaming a bright smile at him.

And the next thing you knew, you were holding your breath as he bent slightly forward to your height and patted your head in praise, "It seems you're already a careful gatherer, baby neighbor. Keep it up!"

You felt your heart sink faster than a prey could run when he turned and continued on his way, leaving you standing there alone in the forest. You had hoped that your gesture would be enough to make him see you in a different light, but it seemed that it had made no difference at all, or even worse for he had called you the worst possible nickname to exist in all na'vihood.

As you made your way back to the village, you couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration settling in you, the deep frown on your face mirroring your inner world. You had tried so hard to get Neteyam to notice you, but it seemed that he was simply not interested.

How do I make you love me?

After a few cycles and many more failed attempts in between, you realized that your little crush was not so little after all. Especially after Neteyam passed his Iknimaya at such a young age, your admiration for him grew every day. The feeling was almost unbearable as you found yourself constantly near him but not receiving the acknowledgment you wished for.

That was until one day, you decided to change that because your hormonal teenager brain had this glorious idea to spend some alone time with Neteyam. You had observed that he enjoyed hunting during his free time when he wasn't bound by his duties as the Olo'eyktan's firstborn. This is why you eagerly joined him on his next hunt, determined to impress him with your own hunting and tracking skills. Looking back, you now realize that your confidence may have been misplaced for your skills were basically non-existent at that time, but back then you were convinced that you were able to hunt.

So, you followed Neteyam deep into the forest, crouching right beside him in the underbrush, watching the herd of talioang grazing in the distance. Their blue and orange skin glinted in the sunlight, and you could hear the low rumble of their voices as they communicated with each other.

"Do you thi—" Neteyam's hand swiftly covered your mouth, halting your words before they escaped, his touch gentle yet firm. It was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. He motioned for you to be quiet and directed your attention towards the herd. As he removed his hand, you couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement in your blood. This was your chance to prove yourself.

Neteyam slowly and silently made his way towards the herd, you right on his track, moving from one piece of cover to another. Your eyes followed every movement of the muscles on his toned back, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, and your palms were slick with sweat. Even though you had never really hunted before, you were determined to succeed but Neteyam's captivating presence proved to be a distraction that made it difficult for you to concentrate on anything else.

As you got closer to the herd, you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Neteyam signaled for you to stop, and you froze, trying to make yourself as small as possible. He reached out and brushed a twig aside at your feet.

"Watch your steps," he whispered close to your ear, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your heart raced as you realized how close he was to you, and you wondered if he could hear it pounding in your chest. Longing to feel his lips against your skin, you couldn't help but turn your head slightly towards him, but you knew you couldn't let your desire distract you from the hunt.

"I do," you whispered back. Trying to calm your racing heart, you focused on the task at hand, scanning the ground for anything else that might make noise. But when you moved, you felt Neteyam's body shift slightly against yours, sending another jolt of electricity through you, and you wondered if he felt it too.

"No, you constantly step on something," he told you, still whispering, but voice stern.

Feeling caught because there was a high possibility that he was right for you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings in the last couple of minutes, too busy doting on him, you couldn't find arguments to defend yourself, "I do not."

Neteyam firmly pressed his finger on his own lips, signaling you to be quiet yet again. Your heart beat faster as you met his intense gaze, and you felt a rush of desire wash over you.

"Too much noise," he mouthed, his voice barely audible, and looked back at the herd. Following his gaze, you saw that the talioang had picked up on something, and they were starting to look nervous. You and Neteyam held your breaths, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Suddenly, Neteyam gave the signal, and sprang into action. You just weren't really ready when he gave the signal, so with the first step you took, you stumbled on something growing on the ground and fell over with a short cry. Neteyam who had darted towards the nearest talioang, already drawing his bow and arrow, stopped right in his track when he heard you fall. You looked up at him when he quickly turned to you and then back at the herd but it was too late, the animals already reared up in surprise, and scattered in all directions. However, you were too shocked by your fatal mistake to pay them any attention. You were frozen in place, lying in the dirt, watching Neteyam looking back at you with a slightly agape mouth. The blood rushed to your head and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

You ruined it.

Neteyam's disappointment was tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he was angry. You would be, too. Struggling to express your remorse, the words got caught in your throat as you attempted to apologize. The weight of disappointment were heavy on your shoulders, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of letting him down.

After a long, awkward silence, Neteyam turned to you with a deep sigh. "You need to be more careful," he said, "When you're hunting, you have to be aware of everything around you. One mistake can ruin the whole hunt."

You nodded, feeling ashamed, you were sure your face was as purple as a yovo fruit. You had wanted to impress Neteyam, but instead you had embarrassed yourself in front of him, had blown any chance to show him that you were capable.

How do I make you fall for me?

Over time, you learned from your previous mistakes. Wanting to impress him proved to be harder than anticipated, but having a conversation with him was easier than expected. You needed to show him how much you appreciated him for who he was. As a result, you began to pay closer attention to the way he interacted with others, especially his younger brother Lo'ak, and you started to incorporate some of those phrases into your conversations with him.

One bright day, you nervously approached Neteyam, hoping to strike up a conversation with him using your newfound knowledge:

"Hey, Neteyam," you greeted tentatively, "Whatcha doin'?"

You left out the bro on purpose, fearing it would be overkill. Even so, the words coming out of your mouth sounded strange to you, and for him apparently too, as he rapidly looked up from his task upon hearing your voice, and his otherwise neutral face looked at you with a slightly frowned forehead and attentive eyes, studying you for a moment before he was quick to collect himself and greeted you with a slight smile.

"Not much. Tuk asked me to repair this old basket for her," he said, motioning with his hands on the basket between his legs, "And I'm trying."

You nodded, trying not to seem too eager, "That's really kind of you. I bet she'll be thrilled once you finish it," you said with a smile.

Neteyam simply hummed in response and went back to his task, his concentration returning.

"I mean, I would, too. Tuk is very lucky, it must be nice to have a brother like you," you complimented him.

"But you do have a brother," Neteyam reminded you matter-of-factly, "We used to attend the same training sessions so many times."

"Yeah," you continued, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment. "But, uh, he is not as skilled as you are." Good save. "And he never did such kind things for me when I was little. The only thing he did was teach me how to fight."

"That's a valuable skill," Neteyam commented.

"Well, what I mean is, he's an ordinary brother, while you are one of a kind, Neteyam. Your siblings are incredibly lucky to have you," you said, emphasizing your point.

Neteyam smiled to himself, his canines slightly showing, as he went back to working on the basket. You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the thought of him noticing your flattery.

"I appreciate that," he said, acknowledging your compliment.

After a few minutes of silence, you took a deep breath and you mustered up the courage to ask him a question, "May I say something?"

He looked up at you again and nodded. "Sure, what's on your mind?"

You decided to take the chance, "I just wanted to say that you always seem to know just what to do and say, and that's very impressive. You're responsible, always respectful, and very patient. Not just with me but with everyone in our clan. And I want you to know that I really appreciate it, Neteyam." I appreciate you.

Neteyam's expression softened as he listened to your words. "You have a kind heart to express that," he replied, a hint of a smile still playing at the corner of his lips.

You took a deep breath and continued, "I know you don't share much about your personal life, but if you ever feel comfortable talking about it I would love to learn more about you."

Neteyam's smile reached his eyes. "Thank you, I will keep that in mind."

You felt a warm glow of happiness in your chest as you realized that your words affected him. You were willing to put in the work to get to know him better.

Encouraged by his response, you asked, "So, do you have any concrete plans after your Uniltaron?"

Neteyam's expression faltered a bit upon hearing you mention his upcoming Dream Hunt, he seemed almost reserved all of a sudden. "I do have a few, but they are personal," he replied, "I prefer to keep them to myself."

You felt a pang of disappointment. "Oh, I understand," you said, trying to hide your dejection, "I'm sorry. It was not my place to ask."

"You don't have to apologize," he responded, "But some things are best kept within the family."

"Yeah, I get it," you smiled weakly, feeling like you had hit a wall, "Thanks for talking with me, Neteyam."

He nodded and went back to his task, leaving you feeling deflated and uncertain about how to get closer to him.

How do I make you want me?

The previous attempts to win Neteyam's attention had proven unsuccessful: The gifts you gave him didn't have the desired effect, your attempts to impress him by spending time with him backfired (you want to forget that memory of the hunt so badly), and the conversations you had with him remained superficial, never delving deeper into meaningful topics. It was clear that you needed a new approach, a fresh idea to capture his interest which brought you back to point zero.

You walked through the forest, scanning the undergrowth for any signs of the flowers you had been studying for quite some time – the kind you gifted Neteyam when you were little. It turns out that the rare flower wasn't that rare after all, it only bloomed a short time a cycle, which is what made it so valuable. However, if they were dried and powdered, very useful medicines could be made. At some point you had started collecting this flower, as well as other herbs and plants for Tsahìk, and in return she had taught you how to make rich creams and pastes from them. And you could also consume this flower in meals if you let it cook over the fire for a long time. Pondering if it would evoke nostalgia within Neteyam, while you plucked them carefully from the ground, you wondered if he ever remembered the day you gave him that flower in the first place.

Gathering a variety of edible flowers, aromatic herbs, and other nourishing ingredients from the village, you spent all morning helping the women in your clan prepare a wholesome and delicious meal for the warriors. In anticipation of Neteyam's training session, you decided to take this thoughtful approach to show your support and care.

As the aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air, you volunteered to bring the full basket of handmade food wraps and lovely cut fruits to the training area.

The warriors were engrossed in their practice, their movements fluid and powerful. You scanned the crowd, searching for Neteyam among them.

Spotting him in the midst of the intense training session, his lean muscles glistening with sweat under the warm sun, you couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration. His movements were powerful and precise, each strike displaying his skill as a warrior. His strength and determination did something to you, feeling a magnetic pull towards him.

Balancing the basket of food in your hands, you approached the outskirts of the training area, careful not to interrupt the warriors' focus. You set up a blanket and arranged the food on it attractively. Your intention was not only to impress Neteyam but to show your support for the entire group.

"I swear, Eywa send you here," you heard someone say next to you, a bit out of breath, while impatient hands reached into the basket and helped you place the food, "I'm starving!"

"Lo'ak, are you allowed to end your training like this?" You questioned, and turned your head in the direction of the warriors — the training was obviously still in full swing, but it was precisely then that you met Neteyam's gaze who was already looking over at you, a mixture of surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes.

"Not really but it smells so good, I'm ready to be skinned for these delici— Oh, I'm taking this one, yeah?" He started unwrapping one of the food wraps and hastily bit into it.

"Hey, wait for the others!" you admonished him, but his wrap was already half eaten.

"Mm, das bom!" you heard him smack loudly, "S'rusly, yur da best."

"I'm glad," you responded, suppressing a laugh. Lo'ak acted like he hadn't eaten in days.

Noticing the spread of food, the warriors collectively ended the training session, and the men started approaching the nourishing dishes, including freshly grilled meats, vibrant vegetables, and flavorful herbs.

Sensing an opportunity, you went towards Neteyam, a food wrap in your hand, and a warm smile gracing your lips. "I thought I would spare you the long way, in case you're starving like your brother," you joked, gesturing with your head towards Lo'ak behind you, who was taking two more food wraps and calling dips on the rawp.

Neteyam's gaze shifted from the feast you had prepared to the food in his hands and then at you. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

"That's thoughtful of you," he replied, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "It's been an intense training session, and this is a welcome surprise."

You stepped back, allowing him to enjoy the meal with his fellow warriors. Observing from a distance, you noticed the camaraderie and laughter that emerged as they gathered around the spread of food, indulging in the flavors that were carefully crafted.

Throughout the meal, you found yourself drawn to Neteyam's presence. The way he spoke with passion about his experiences, the way he listened attentively to others, and the way his eyes sparkled with a hidden depth — all of it only fueled your growing attraction.

As the training session continued, you lingered nearby, engaging in conversations with other warriors, offering encouragement and companionship. While your initial intention was to impress Neteyam, you found joy in connecting with the community as a whole, so much you almost didn't realize that the day's training had come to an end.

"Thank you for the meal and your company," Neteyam said softly as he walked next to you back to the village, carrying the basket for you with a genuine smile gracing his face. "It meant a lot to all of us."

Your cheeks warmed at his words, "I didn't do much, the others—"

"You are here, that alone is more than enough."

You nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over you. "I'm glad I could contribute," your voice was filled with sincerity, "Supporting you and the clan is important to me."

A surge of hope welled up inside you, but as the conversation continued, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. Despite your efforts, the romantic tension you had hoped for seemed to elude you. The conversation remained pleasant yet distant, and it became clear that Neteyam saw you more as a friend than a potential partner. With a heavy heart, you realized that your attempt to catch his interest had once again fallen short.

And make it last eternally?

For quite some time now, you have firmly believed that you have left those days behind you, imprisoned in childhood memories, overlapped by numerous teenage embarrassments. After all, now you are an adult with serious duties and commitments to attend to, and there's neither time nor room for such childish infatuations. Crushing on the future Olo'eyktan. Please. Plus, once you found out how many other girls in your clan, both older and younger than you, adored him, you figured it is best to move on. You were frustrated at times, but you resolved to carry on, cherishing the friendship you shared with Neteyam while silently letting go of your unrequited feelings. At least, that's what you thought...

… until three eclipses ago.

Mere moments before the eclipse, the all-too-familiar soft light danced in the room, casting a golden hue that revealed the tiniest pollen floating around inside Tsahìk's crowded tent. It had been a long time since so many people had been injured at once, yet no one was ready to explain or report what had happened.

As two new figures entered the tent, one of them supporting the other, you heard a familiar voice speaking calmly, "Focus on not getting blood all over grandmother's tent rather than worrying about my wounds."

"Nah, I'm just- Ouch! Careful, bro!"

"Sorry, brother, but you have to cooperate with me here," Neteyam uttered while carefully helping Lo'ak onto the mat made of woven grasses that Kiri had prepared for them with blankets.

"I'm just saying—Ahh," Lo'ak hissed as Neteyam applied pressure to his open wound with his bare hands, while Kiri hastily tied together any available cloths for his wound care. "-it's not very mighty of you, you know."

"What is not very mighty of him?" Kiri wanted to know, now taking over and applying pressure to his wound as well to stop the bleeding. As you shifted to Kiri's side, you handed her more cloths that she could wrap around Lo'ak's leg.

"His wounds, of course," Lo'ak grinned when he saw you and gave his older brother another amused sideways glance, before continuing, "but I'm sure he will be in great hands now. Right, bro?"

Just a quick glance at Lo'ak was enough to see that he was far worse off than Neteyam. While his wounds did not appear to be life-threatening, he was bleeding profusely from his thigh.

Tsahìk had already rushed to the four of you, throwing a disapproving look at Lo'ak, "Oh, my boy, let me have a look." With her expertise, she quickly got the situation under control, ordering Kiri to get more cloths while you stood by her side to assist her.

"My child, attend to his wounds," Tsahìk instructed you, but to your surprise she nodded towards Neteyam instead of Lo'ak as she pushed a bowl of fresh water into your hands. "My granddaughter and I can handle this young clumsy man here." Her stern gaze was once again fixed on Lo'ak, who, in turn, only grinned at her.

"Grandmother," Neteyam began soothingly, ready to protest, "there is no need to—" but her piercing eyes silenced him, causing him to follow you wordlessly to the other side of the tent.

And that's how you found yourself sitting in front of Neteyam, tending to his wounds with the gentle touch of your hands, caring for each cut and bruise.

"You need to be more careful," you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence as you wrung the cloth in the water that had already turned a muddy reddish color.

"I'm content with the present circumstances," he replied, his voice laced with a touch of amusement. You gave him a sarcastic look, which he reciprocated with a warm smile.

"Well, I suppose then you'll be content with this as well." Pressing the damp cloth into his hand, you stood up and leisurely made your way to Tsahìk's supplies to fetch some healing ointments, and you took your time doing so.

Upon your return, Neteyam watched you attentively, his eyes tracing your every movement, and you wondered if he had been watching you the whole time. There was a newfound curiosity in his gaze, a glimmer of something more.

"My words came out wrong," he said when you sat back on the ground in front of him. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and unspoken emotions, a subtle tension hanging between you. "You're right, I should be more careful. I always strive to be. It's just that there's little one can do in the face of an ambush."

"An ambush?" you asked with big eyes, "Oh, Great Mother! That's what everyone's been trying to conceal. And I was wondering the whole time what could've possibly happened to cause so many injuries."

"They probably didn't want to cause an uproar." You listened to his words, sensing the weight they carried. The mention of an ambush brought back memories of past dangers and harrowing encounters. The gravity of their lives was never far from their thoughts, and you understood the weight that rested on Neteyam's shoulders.

"You don't always have to be the strong one, Neteyam," you said softly, voice carrying reassurance, when you continued cleaning the cut on his chest, noticing that he tried not to wince under your touch, "It's alright to lean on others, to let them care for you."

A flicker of emotion danced across his face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he regained his composure. His hand reached out to touch yours resting on his chest above his heart, the contact gentle yet charged with unspoken emotions.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, and in that moment it felt like the boundaries between healer and wounded blurred, "Thank you for being here, for tending to me." His eyes locked with yours, an unspoken promise passing between you, turning your cheeks in a light purply color.

"Now," you cleared your throat with the intention of changing the subject, fervently hoping that he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, "here comes the actual healing part."

Gently, you dipped your fingers into the jar of ointment, scooping out a generous amount. With deliberate movements, you applied the soothing balm to his wounds, careful not to cause any further discomfort. The ointment glided smoothly, creating a soothing sensation that seemed to envelop him in a healing embrace.

"What I meant before is that I am glad that you are the one taking care of me," you smiled upon hearing those words, feeling his gaze on you as you concentrated on his upper body. A gentle warmth radiated from his wounds as your fingertips grazed his skin, mingling with the tender touch of your hands. The ointment possessed a subtle fragrance, hinting at the natural remedies it held within.

As you continued to apply the ointment, your fingers delicately tracing the contours of his chest, exploring the intricate landscape of his injuries, a comfortable silence settled between you. The rhythm of your ministrations became a quiet conversation, a wordless understanding of care and compassion. With every gentle caress, a subtle shiver passed through him, a reaction that spoke of both vulnerability and an underlying trust in your touch. There was a closeness in this shared moment, a connection forged through the tender act of healing.

Neteyam's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes revealing a depth of gratitude and something more profound. It was as if the vulnerability of his wounds had peeled away a layer, exposing a vulnerability of the heart. The strength he embodied as a warrior was softened in this vulnerable space, allowing a snippet into the depths of his mind and soul.

"It never stings when you patch me up, why?" Neteyam asked, his voice laced with wonder, tilting his head slightly.

"The secret is to mix yalnabark with 'omsyul," you replied, your voice gentle yet filled with a hint of playfulness.

"Care to share this secret with my grandmother? And Kiri, too?" Neteyam's request was teasing but also genuine, and you couldn't help but be touched by his thoughtfulness.

"Actually, Kiri is the one who taught me this," you admitted, a fondness in your voice.

Neteyam's forehead furrowed slightly, "Then why does it always burn when she patches me up?"

With a twinkle in your eyes, you playfully suggested, "Sibling love?"

A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Or perhaps your touch is blessed by Eywa?" His words hung in the air, filled with a newfound flirtation that took you by surprise.

"Oh, come on now, exaggerate much, do you?" you responded, attempting to brush off his words with a hint of irony, not fully realizing the impact they had on you.

Undeterred by your sarcastic retort, Neteyam looked deeply into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity and a touch of vulnerability. "The caress of your hand weaves a tapestry of enchantment, casting a spell that captivates my very soul."

His words echoed in your mind, resonating with a blend of tender affection and longing. You wished he had said those words when you were younger and so in love with him, meaning every syllable coming from his kissable lips. What you would have given to hear him say it.

A blush spread across your cheeks as you struggled to find the right words to respond. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, the tension between you both palpable.

"You said I should exaggerate," Neteyam added, a witty glint in his eyes, as if to remind you of your earlier banter.

Your younger self would have etched his previous words into a tree to make them eternal — words you longed to hear from your crush, words that felt like a dream.

"Crush?" he asked with interest, and your eyes widened with the realization that you had spoken your thoughts aloud. "On whom?"

"Um," a jumble of thoughts flooded your mind at once, too late for an excuse, "You?"

Your confession left him momentarily speechless, and your heart pounded in your chest.

It's in the past, so it's okay to admit it, you told yourself, trying to calm down a bit.

"You have a crush on me?"

"Had," you corrected quickly.

"You had a crush on me?" he asked again, as if needing confirmation. It seemed to sweep him off his feet, a revelation he hadn't expected.

"Everyone did, everyone does," you confessed, trying to downplay the significance.

"Everyone except you?"

You shrugged, unsure how to answer, "I guess I'm… over it."

"Why?" he inquired.

"Come on, Neteyam," you sighed, trying to mask the bitterness in your voice, "don't act like you didn't know."

"I swear by Eywa this is news to me… I have never…" he hesitated briefly with his words, "It doesn't even make sense."

Make sense?

"Don't make me regret telling you," you said, your voice tinged with frustration, "It's not about making sense, and it's not a big deal either, don't you agree?"

"Yes, but I try to understand."

"What is there to understand?"

"Why would you even crush on me in the first place?"

Oh.

"You're right," you tightly gripped the cloth, forcing a smile, "why would I."

Even though you reluctantly admitted it, it hurt you and scratched at your ego. You were now more than grateful to have never openly communicated your feelings. As an adult, you could handle it, but you know exactly that this reaction would have devastated your childhood self. You were not accustomed to this insensitivity from Neteyam, considering he always maintained a noble and respectable demeanor. This showed you even more how repulsive the idea of having you by his side was to him.

"Also, I'm sorry," you turned around in a swing, your voice filled with sadness, disappointment, and above all, anger—anger at him for acting like a skxawng and anger at yourself for being a skxawng by confiding in him, "that the thought of me being attracted to you disgusts you so much. It won't happen again, rest your mind."

He seemed lost for words, blinking once, twice, and opening his mouth only to close it again, processing your words. Part of you yearned for him to say something, to prove you wrong, but nothing came. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, altering between your eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm needed elsewhere," you said, your voice tinged with resignation. You prepared to turn away, ready to retreat from the turmoil of the moment. But just as you began to pivot, a sudden, gentle grip on your arm stopped you in your tracks. It was Neteyam, his touch both unexpected and tender.

In that instant, conflicting emotions surged within you, caught between the instinct to push him away and the captivating gaze that held your attention. Without uttering a single word, he drew you closer, wrapping you in a tight embrace that left you completely defenseless, your body momentarily frozen in surprise against his bare skin.

Your initial response was to resist, your mind still reeling from the whirlwind of confusion. Yet, as his arms enveloped you, a scent as enchanting as the forest's vibrant essence and the serenity of sacred woods wafted into your consciousness. It was a harmonious blend that stirred your senses, mingling the fragrant allure of nature with the grounding whispers of sandalwood.

Inhaling deeply, the captivating aroma cast a spell upon you, dissolving the remnants of anger and frustration that had once consumed your thoughts like a distant memory as he held you firmly in his strong arms, the warmth of his body seeping into your very core.

In this suspended moment, time appeared to lose its grip as the only audible sounds were the rhythm of your synchronized breaths and the rhythmic beat of your hearts.

"I'm sorry too," you heard him whisper in your hair as he pulled away from you and left the tent, leaving you confused.

It was in that moment, surrounded by the fading light and the soft whispers of the forest outside the tent, that you realized the painful truth: nothing would be the same between you and Neteyam because

no matter what you did, you would never be able to make him love you.

And exactly this is the reason of your sleepless nights, which is why, in the middle of your melancholic nostalgia, you decided to take a little walk to the lake nearby to pass the time until daybreak which leads you to the lake. You currently sit on a mossy tree stump above the shimmering water allowing your feet to hang freely just above the glistening surface of the lake, instead of sleeping safe and sound like the rest of the village. The purples, greens, and yellows of the bioluminescent flora and fauna smile at you but you fail to smile back. Your heart heavy with a mix of emotions and your mind full of questions, you try not to think of more memories, each one feeling like a dagger, piercing your already fragile heart.

You try to understand, yet it's difficult for you.

After so many failed attempts and moments of acceptance in between, he still manages to confuse you with his mixed signals. The moment, when he hugged you, replays relentlessly in your thoughts as if burned in your mind, a vivid recollection that carries the weight of his proximity, the tempting linger of his scent, and the electric touch that ignited a fierce tension within you. It was an encounter that left an indelible mark, an irresistible dance between desire and restraint, etching itself into the deepest recesses of your longing soul.

You groan into your hands. You want to hate him. So much.

Three eclipses have come and gone since then, way too much time to think between that and the part where you made the decision to distance yourself from Neteyam. This time for real. You wake up earlier than everyone else, dedicating yourself to your work, skipping communal meals and shared gatherings entirely. You complete your tasks and retreat back to your home, like a ghost in the clan, yet living unscathed within your own space, seeking solace in the sanctuary of solitude.

Almost every hour, you find yourself battling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, you long to see him, to be in his presence, and to feel that familiar connection. But on the other hand, you remember his last words and the way he looked at you when he learned about your past feelings. Distance will be best for the both of you. The ache in your heart hasn't subsided, but you know the step is necessary for your own well-being, it's a shield you've built to preserve what little strength remains within you.

Yesterday, your changed behavior was noticed by Tsahik, so she confronted you directly, but she neither questioned you nor expected any form of explanation. Her words still echo in your mind, partly because forgetting the moment will be difficult with the way she looked at you with her kind eyes, as if understanding the depths of your heartache.

"My child," she laid her hand gently on your shoulder, her voice carrying the wisdom of the ages, "Sometimes the tides do not turn in the way we hope but that does not diminish the beauty of the love within your heart. Always remember that Eywa has woven the threads of affection and devotion. Thus, have trust that the stars will align one day, for love, in all its form, is a gift to cherish."

The words resonate deep within your soul, as you sit by the tranquil water, the soft glow of the plants casting an ethereal light around you, a gentle breeze rustles through the verdant foliage. In these moments of isolation, you reflect on the times you've spent with Neteyam, the moments that sparked the flame of attraction within you. You question whether those were genuine or merely figments of your imagination, the doubts swirling in your mind, clouding your judgment and feeding your insecurities.

The stars above seem to mirror the twinkle in your eyes, a bittersweet reminder of the unfulfilled desire for you can't comprehend why your heart continues to long for him despite your mind trying to move on. Your thoughts are deep in contemplation when—

"Can we talk?" The voice startles you, and you flinch sharply, almost letting out a scream. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, the fright taking hold of you. Quickly, you turn around, only to see that out of everyone, Neteyam approaches you, his figure blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," a crooked smile forms on his lips.

You look up, meeting his gaze with a guarded expression, unsure of what to expect from this encounter. His presence catches you off guard, causing your heart to skip another beat. The sight of him stirs a mix of emotions within you—longing, uncertainty, fear, but also a flicker of hope.

"You didn't," you lie, your voice tinged with coldness.

He nods his head towards the space beside you, "May I?"

Neteyam's eyes hold a certain earnestness, a silent plea for understanding. You just shrug your shoulders, and he interprets it as a yes. He takes a seat beside you, his movements graceful and measured, his tail gently swaying in the air, your shoulders and thighs nearly touching.

The silence between you is tense, charged with unspoken words and residual feelings. You let your feet dangle above the water. As you wiggle your toes, you feel a gentle coolness from the air mingling with the refreshing touch of the water below.

He clears his voice, "I've noticed your absence these past few days."

"Oh?" Your ears perk up with curiosity, surprised that he has noticed, "I was busy."

"You were missing from the meal servings as well," he notes, his words carrying a hint of concern.

"Yeah, I haven't had much of an appetite lately," you reply, sounding detached.

You aren't sure if you have misheard, but it seems like Neteyam has whispered softly to himself, "Me neither," although it can also be your mind playing tricks on you.

"You see, I, uh..." he pauses, seemingly struggling to find the right words which is so unusual for him, "Can I speak openly with you?"

"Don't you always?" Your voice still laced with a hint of coldness.

"Indeed," you noticed from the corner of your eye a brief tension in his hands that gradually relaxes, "I just wanted to let you know that there is no need for you to feel obligated to skip communal gatherings because of me."

You can't help but scoff at that, however, he remains undeterred by your reaction.

"It's okay if you don't want to see me — I will keep my distance if that is what you want, but, please, don't avoid the clan in an attempt to avoid me. Don't isolate yourself."

"Funny," you say bitterly, your gaze still on the water, "that you think you have that much power over me."

"That's not what I wanted to say, it's—"

"It's fine, Neteyam," you interrupt him, turning your head to him, your jaw clenched, "I get it. If the future Olo'eyktan says so, I'll comply. See you at the morning meal."

You attempt to get up, but he gently grasps your wrist, halting your movement.

"I can sense that something has changed between us, and it weighs heavily on my heart," his voice carries a hint of vulnerability.

"Things change," you respond as he loosens his grip, but you refrain from attempting to get up again, waiting for the conversation to end, "Is there anything else?"

"Yes," he shifts, causing your thighs to briefly brush against each other, "I've had time to reflect on our last conversation."

"Actually, let's not—" you try to interrupt him, but this time he doesn't let your words stop him.

"Let me say this one thing and after that you don't have to talk to me again."

You meet his gaze, which is filled with honesty and a touch of guilt. You nod and look at him, noticing how he rubs his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath.

"I was caught off guard," he admits, his voice softer now, "When we talked, I mean; and when I learned that you used to feel an affection for me — I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry for the way I reacted and for the pain I may have caused you."

You remain silent for a few seconds remembering the unpleasant conversation from last time, before you speak, "We don't have to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay!" You notice the tension in his muscles. "You see," he takes a deep breath, "I didn't understand why you would crush on me."

"You made that very clear," you remark.

"I regret my poor choice of words, and for any offense it may have caused. I immediately noticed that my words had an impact on you, but I was too overwhelmed to correct myself in the moment," he admits, a hint of regret in his voice, "Please know that the idea of you being attracted to me never has and never will disgust me," his eyes lock with yours as his voice gets quieter when he adds, "It scares me."

Upon hearing that, your features soften slightly, a flicker of empathy crossing your face, and the question leaves your mouth before you can think about it, "Why?"

Now he's the one shrugging, "Everyone has their own doubts and fears."

You're not satisfied with that response, and you want him to open up to you for which you are willing to meet him halfway. So you begin an attempt to make him elaborate on his statement, "I'm scared of many things." you watch him intently as you speak, "Accidentally plucking poisonous plants instead of the usual herbs, falling down the hallelujah mountains, being eaten alive by nantangs." And most of all, rejection. "I can't help but wonder what fears could reside within a mighty warrior like yourself."

His mouth twitches slightly upwards when you say that, but is quickly replaced by a neutral expression. "The possibility of someone seeing through my façade," Neteyam admits sighing, his voice laced with a mix of confusion and self-reflection, "Of someone truly knowing me," he holds your gaze, a certain vulnerability in them, "That terrifies me."

You are left speechless, completely caught off guard by his answer.

"But," you stammer, trying to find the right words to express your thoughts, "you're Neteyam, you're... perfect in everything you do. I never considered the possibility that you might have these thoughts."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "No, definitely not, I am far off from being perfect. That's why I couldn't understand why you would have feelings for me," he confesses, vulnerability shining in his gaze. "Because I never saw myself the way you did. But maybe, just maybe, this is why I've been blind to the possibility of something more between us."

"If you're only here to make me feel better about myself..." you start, your voice trailing off.

"No," he groans in frustration. "That's not it."

"Then what is it?"

He chuckles at your reaction, "I get nervous when you look at me that way."

"What do you mean?" You are the one getting nervous because of his statement for he doesn't look nervous at all, on the contrary, he looks very relaxed and almost overconfident.

"Yeah, can't you tell my hands are all sweaty?" he lets you know with a smirk while he studies your face.

"Neteyam," you blink in confusion, "Are you okay?"

"You're not listening," he sighs, his smile dropping slightly.

"Then talk openly," you urge impatiently.

He takes a deep breath and looks you directly in the eyes. "I've come to realize that you mean more to me than just a friend."

Your features falter and your eyes widen, as the realization dawns upon you that your feelings have not been unrequited after all. "No."

"I have a crush on you, too," he whispers euphorically, confirming your thoughts.

"No, Neteyam, not now," you shake your head quickly, your mind filled with way too many thoughts and too much confusion. Instantly, you stand up as if stung by an insect, trying to maintain your composure.

"It didn't start now, it was always there," he admits, standing up as well, now towering over you and studying your face and your reaction again. "But I fear that I've missed my chance. And now, it seems like it's too late."

Ignoring his words entirely, you fixate your serious gaze on him, "You can't do this to me."

"What?" he blinks, seeming to comprehend your words, "Why?" his gaze momentarily shifts from one eye to the other with a swift glance, reflecting his confusion.

"Because all my life, I did everything to try to make you notice me. I went beyond my comfort zone, I did everything I could. But from you," You look at him, gesturing towards his entire figure as if the reason were obvious, "there was nothing. Not one single acknowledgment from you. I accepted it. I moved on. I made peace with the thought of just knowing you and supporting what is good for you," You find yourself almost breathless, your words tumbling out rapidly, but each one carries sincere meaning. "You can't come now, years later, and pretend that you have a crush on me. I can't go through that again."

He takes a step forward, clearly taken aback by your outburst. "I... I'm not pretending to—"

"And I'm so tired," you interrupt him, your voice faltering, "Now that I've finally let go of you, you can't say things like this."

"Let go?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief, "Of me?"

"Yes, Neteyam," you persist firmly. "Let go of you. I don't want you anymore."

The night air feels heavy with unspoken regrets and unfulfilled desires as the silence underlines the shared acknowledgment of the chasm that has opened between you. Neteyam's expression shifts from disappointment to determination, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "How do I make you love me, then?"

It feels ironic that he's asking you that question, considering you used to be the one who always wondered how you could make him love you whenever you saw him. You groan in frustration, feeling overwhelmed by conflicting emotions.

"I worked so hard to accept things as they are. That is not fair, Neteyam." A mix of sadness and anger can be heard in your voice.

"Please listen," he pleads, reaching out to touch your arm. You close your eyes, turning your head away. "I've been blind to your feelings, consumed by my own worries and obligations, and I didn't see what was right in front of me, hurting you in the process. I'm sorry I caused you pain. If I had known sooner…"

"What then?" you interrupt, your voice filled with bitterness. "Do you think everything would magically change, and we'd be deeply in love with a family of our own by now?"

Neteyam pauses for a moment, processing your words, and a hopeful smile crosses his face. "Yes, that's a possibility."

You groan in exasperation and attempt to push him away, your frustration boiling over. "No, Neteyam. I can't keep living in this cycle of uncertainty."

As you push him away from you, your heart heavy, you walk away with determined steps, wanting to bring as much distance between him and you as possible.

"I love you!" he shouts after you, causing you to freeze in your tracks and turn around in utter shock. "I love you. And if that's not enough, then so be it. But I would rather be damned than let you go now, heading who knows where in the middle of the night. If you don't want me, I won't approach you, I won't come near. But don't run away from me."

Desperation visible in his voice, his words reach deep into your heart; the intensity echoing in the air, leaving a profound impact on both of you.

"I've been waiting for your love for far too long," you respond bitterly.

Taking cautious steps in your direction, trying to close the physical and emotional distance between you, he asks, "Why waste more time?" It feels as if an invisible force draws you together, intertwining your fates in this pivotal moment but you remain stubborn, too exhausted and clouded from the painful burn in your heart.

"I don't want you," you declare, the words slipping out uncertainly, as if trying to convince both him and yourself.

"Then look me in the eyes when you say those words," he challenges, his voice stern, gaze unwavering.

"I don't want you," you repeat, louder this time, trying to emphasize your resolve. However, instead of looking into his eyes, your gaze fixates on his face, tracing the patterns of his glowing freckles that your mind has memorized long ago.

The moonlight bathes the scene in a gentle gleam, and you both stare at each other in complete silence, the space between you filled with suffocating tension.

A knowing smile suddenly forms on his lips. "I don't believe you."

"I don't want you, Neteyam!" you exclaim, raising your voice even more, repeating the words over and over, in a desperate attempt to convince him, "I don't want you, I don't want you, I don't want you!"

He studies you intently for another moment, his eyes filled with hope.

"Your tail gives you away," he says triumphantly, his smile growing. And that's when you finally let go of your suppressed emotions. Your lower lip begins to tremble, and before you know it, you find yourself in his warm embrace, his strong arms pulling you impossibly closer to him.

"I want you," you confessed against his chest, your voice barely audible and filled with so much vulnerability, "After everything, I still want you."

"Shh, you have me," he whispers, his voice soothing and reassuring.

You sob, the weight of your emotions finally breaking free, and he tenderly pats your head, his fingers gliding through your hair. His touch brings a sense of calmness to your racing heart and gently dries your tears.

"I'll make up for all the time lost, I promise," his voice reaches your ear, soft and full of sincerity.

His words continue to soothe you, and at one point, he hums a faint melody that resonates deep within you, gradually bringing an end to your sobs.

"Do you recall the day you asked about my plans after my Dream Hunt, and I hesitated to provide an answer?" He asks after you calm down, his voice carrying an infinite sense of solace.

Your arms still around him, you nod against his chest, every word of that conversation etched into your mind.

"That day," he continues, "I have sworn to myself to admire your eternal beauty from afar, to cherish your body, mind, and soul until the end of my days," he whispers softly in your hair, "with the hope that one day I will hold you close and claim you as my very own."

You take a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed by his words and the emotions swirling within you. Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your teary eyes meeting his with awe.

"I... I never imagined you felt this way," you whisper, your voice hoarse and fragile from your sobs. "To think that you've carried these feelings for me all this time, it's... I don't know what to say."

"Interesting," he comments, eyes with a gleam, lips playful, "You were just as oblivious to my feelings as I was to yours, so I guess that makes us even." A mischievous bunny-like smile plays across his face, transforming him into the youthful version of himself that you have fallen deeply in love with, no longer the mighty warrior following in the footsteps of the great Toruk Makto, but the young man who has captured your heart long ago.

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes again, overwhelmed by the weight of his words and the intensity of your own emotions. With a shaky breath, you reach to your waist, gently intertwining your fingers with his.

In the warmth of his arms, you find solace for your burning heart. His arms hold you tightly, offering a sense of intimate security that you've always wished for. But then, something shifts.

The intensity of your emotions begins to wane, and as you look up at him through tear-filled eyes, you see his gaze fixed upon you with unwavering love, trying to read you as he cups your face with his large hands. His thumb gently brushes away a lingering tear on your cheek, his touch delicate against your skin. A soft, affectionate smile graces his lips as he leans forward and presses a gentle kiss against the place where your tear was mere seconds ago. The sweetness of the gesture stirs your heart, a silent affirmation of his loving nature. He continues to kiss away your tears, each touch a soothing balm to your wounded soul.

A powerful desire burns between you then, as his soft lips linger near yours. His eyes meet yours again, seeking permission, and you respond with a silent nod. Right then and there, the world around you fades into the background, and all that matters is the connection you share. With a surge of passion, his lips meet yours in a fervent kiss, the longing coming to an end, hearts intertwined.

The tender touch of his lips against yours feels like an electric jolt that sends shivers down your spine. You both pull back slowly from the passionate kiss, breathless yet connected. Your eyes meet, gazing into each other with a depth of love that words can never describe.

His eyes hold unwavering sincerity as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. "You've captured my heart in ways I can't fully express," he confesses, his voice filled with affection. "And if you'll allow me, I want to show you every day how deeply I love you."

A deep blue blush tints your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to respond. He doesn't seem to mind as a soft smile spreads across his face. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours, adoring the tranquil moment between two souls.

Enjoying each other's presence and your newfound attraction and happiness, you spend the rest of the night hand in hand wandering around mindlessly, exchanging loving gazes, talking about everything and sweet nothing's at once like two fools in love.

"Do you remember that day?" You hear him ask cheerfully as his free hand wanders to the songcord attached to his loincloth. You follow his movement and your eyes widen as you recognize the dried petals, intricately woven into one of the beads. "It was so unconventional, going against tradition. Who has ever seen a girl giving a flower to a boy? No one. But you didn't care. You were true to yourself, and you gifted me your favorite flower, and it meant so much more than just a little gesture."

Taking aback by his words and the bittersweet memory you can't help but smile widely as you inspect his songcord but confusion grazes your face at the same time.

"Wait—What do you mean? Lo'ak told me it's your favorite flower."

"No, he told me it's your favorite."

"Well, it became my favorite after I learned that it's yours."

A boisterous laugh escapes him as he throws his head back, his chest almost vibrating, and it is so contagious that you can't help but join in, the air filled with heartfelt laughter.

"It's gonna cause quite a scandal, but Lo'ak definitely deserves a good punch when he wakes up." You laughed, knowing that he meant that half-heartedly.

He delicately cradles your hand back in his, your fingers intertwining as he brings them up, his lips softly brushing against your knuckles in a loving kiss. The touch sends a warmth through your body.

"Speaking of scandals," you say sheepishly as you reluctantly let go of his hand, "maybe it's better not to enter our village hand in hand just yet?"

He chuckles at your suggestion.

"Maybe," he agrees, his eyes filled with adoration, his face leaning slightly forward, "Can I have one last kiss before that?"

You look at him challengingly, he mirrors your expression, a playful glint in his eyes, coming closer to your face.

Your lips almost touching for the second time this night, you whisper, "Only if you catch me."

With that, you run off, your heart blooming with excitement, and his laughter follows you through the enchanting forest as the sun rises, casting its warm rays across the sky, and you know that the future holds nothing but love for the both of you.

for anyone asking, neteyam does in fact catch you and gets his kiss(es) <3 thank you for reading, liking, commenting, reblogging 🤍 btw, what is your love language? 💕

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munsonthings86 · 13 days

Text

sunkissed

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: soft morning sex w steve <3

warnings: cursing, fluff, clingy!steve, established relationship, smut, praise, tipsy sex, oral (f receiving), penetration, no protection use

an: today (apr. 14) is the day steve and sunshine met ;) so i wrote something a lil special for them. hope you guys enjoy! *minors dni*

wc: 4.1k

steve and sunshine’s timeline

It couldn't have been later than six a.m. The waking sun shed an amber light that tinted your white sheer curtains, as they gently swayed in the brisk morning breeze. The wind blew harshly at times, prompting the sleepy boy next to you to nuzzle desperately closer to your heated touch. His lush, chocolate hair tickled your cheek as his head rested softly against yours when he abandoned his own pillow.

A freckled arm held you tightly against him as he spooned you, a breath that still smelled of beer and some other alcohol fanning your cheek. Usually, you recoil at the sour stench of liquor on people, but you couldn't help but to find it a bit endearing at the moment.

It was Steve after all. You found countless things about him endearing. Even his smelly little morning alcohol breath.

Sailing curious, feather-like fingers across his tanned skin that shined in the golden light, you stared at him in awe. His neck was still littered with stains of your lipstick from where you kissed him the night before. If you weren't so comfortable where you laid, trapped in this blanket of Steve, you'd rush to sneak a picture on your polaroid.

You knew exactly which one of your purses you'd want to keep the picture in too. It was only fair seeing as he kept his own photo of you in his wallet. And another on the dashboard of his BMW. And another on his bedside table.

It began getting hard to keep track of them all. Steve didn't mind though. When Steve would be having a less than ideal day, a rare but not uncommon occurrence, he couldn't avoid the grim ache of how much he missed you. It was such a treat when he would randomly stumble upon a picture of you somewhere, powerless against the blush and smile that would come.

The brightness of your room was blinding and unforgiving to the headache your hangover brought. Your hazy eyes stung when you tried to ogle the sunrise but you willingly gazed anyway. The sky was a gentle blue, cloudless, and full of melodic birds.

The moon still sat high and mighty, glowing, as it was being kissed by the sun's light.

It was such a breathtaking sight. A needle of guilt pricked you when you realized that you were witnessing it all alone.

Your fingers twitched when you thought about waking Steve, but he just looked too peaceful sleeping like this; lips puffy and dry from all his snoring and sleepy mumbles— hair perfectly untamed. Some rogue strands fell over his eyes, enticing you to gently sweep them behind his ears, careful not to wake him.

He groaned when you were unable to resist scratching at his scalp, eyebrows furrowing as his tired eyes failed to stay open. Not careful enough, apparently. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," you apologized in a hushed tone, apologetic smile to match.

"That's alright," he mumbled through a small grin, exhaustion weighing his voice down. Unfolding his body from the curled position he was in, his body tensed when he full-body stretched. You loved watching Steve wake up. It was like watching a flower bloom in real time. "What time is it?"

"Almost six," you responded after taking a glance at the dainty clock hung above your vanity. Steve's eyes widened as if he was startled. "Jesus, why're you up so early," you think you hear him say through his yawn. He laid his head down on your chest when he settled.

The hair that draped over his face was pushed back by your fingers so you could admire his lengthy eyelashes from this angle. "Maybe because somebody wouldn't stop kicking me in his sleep," you quipped, poking a finger at his side.

He scoffed in return before adjusting his head to stare back at you, "Well, I hope you find the guy who did that because I, personally, do not kick in my sleep."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, tell that to my leg." Steve shrugged as if you insisted on the matter, tossing the duvet over his head before trailing down to your legs. "What're you-"

The question was cut off with a muttered, "I do not kick in my sleep." He prodded at your thigh after each word to accentuate his (false) statement. Giggling at him, you waited for him to return from under the covers but he didn't move. It fell a bit quiet even. "Did ya get lost down there, Harrington?"

"Something like that," soft, sedative kisses to your hip punctuated his reply. It was so easy to be distracted once he had this view of you. Plump thighs that he wanted to sink his teeth into, stomach that he wanted to pepper kisses on, and a tempting honeypot that made his mouth water, on full display for him.

It was a trap that he unintentionally fell into, but was fully delighted to be in, nonetheless. You lifted the duvet from over his head, tittering at the mischievous grin on his face.

Pushing the oversized white shirt that belonged to Steve once upon a time above your belly button, he found comfort between your legs. A knot in the pit of your stomach formed at the tasty mix of curiosity and anticipation manifesting from all that was unfolding.

With booze still lingering in your system, your body was more sensitive than usual. Every little touch Steve gave you sparked electricity along your skin and, greedily, your body chased the sensation each time, clearly unable to stave off its hunger.

His hair tickled you dangerously close to your core and your body seemed to have a mind of its own, hips bucking up on his face involuntarily.

He simply smirked at you, indiscreetly relishing in the way you reacted to him so easily. So needily. Grabbing at your waist, the pads of his fingers pressed hard onto you, and you were sure the two of you would fuse. Your eyebrows pinched themselves together, tighter and tighter, the more impatient you became, mumbled pleas stumbling out of your lips.

Steve reluctantly broke eye contact with you to look down at your heated core that he was certain was desperate for his attention.

Pinning your lower half to the mattress, he left a few taunting pecks to your lacy underwear, loving the way your puffy lips felt against his mouth. A low groan eluded Steve when your nails tugged lightly at his roots after clutching a handful of his hair. The vibration from the sound was like a dull shock to your pulsating cunt.

As if the kisses weren't egging you on enough, the tip of his tongue started flitting about, sweetly licking at your clit and in between your folds. His movements were slow and calculated; giving you just enough but leaving much to be desired, all at once. It was becoming unbearable.

Any discipline you had left in you was long gone.

With one hand gripping Steve’s hair and the other twisting at a stiffened nipple, you tried to keep yourself steady as you grinded yourself against Steve’s face while quiet moans fell from your lips.

His tongue had quit its dance and he wasn’t kissing where you needed him anymore. Instead, he grinned; gawking at you through his eyelashes as you selfishly didn't stop using his face to get what you wanted.

It's almost too much to look at him.

His cock twitched and strained against his boxers, savoring the way you were getting so lost in pleasure. Steve caught how you struggled to maintain eye contact with him whilst you shamelessly flaunted your lack of self restraint.

The pillow by your head fell victim to the squeezing and kneading trap of your hand, helping to keep you grounded. Soft whimpers that poked through the silence of the room were nothing short of music to his ears. Steve always found himself captivated when you got like this. You were so hot.

It’s almost too much to look at you.

"Steve," you fussed. "It's too early to be teasing me like this." Though you were being sincere, you laughed a bit amid your desperation. Steve's carelessness to shave for the past few days left stubble on his jaw and the friction it gave you against your soaked panties was too enthralling.

"Never too early for that," he laughed, tracing a finger along the intricate patterns of your racy bottoms, "but anything for my princess."

He could never say no to you. There were no bounds to what his angel deserved. Your body was hungry and his mouth was thirsty.

Fingers wrapped around the hem of the flimsy material, he unveiled your needy core to his even needier mouth. He drew his own undergarments down with a single hand, the other finding your waist as he settled himself between the sweet temptation of your legs once more.

Steve garnered a mouthful of saliva before slowly spilling it onto your cunt. He watched, mouth agape, as it crept, long, wet and sloppy from the top of your sex to the bottom. It blended in seamlessly with all the arousal pooling around your folds and dripping down your ass.

A reflexive moan slipped from you when he blew cool air onto it, the sensitivity making your body react. He hummed, staring intently at your gorgeous, sopping hole. Any minute now, he was going to be drooling all over himself.

He dotted smooches to your bikini line, addicted to how the sounds you made practically begged him to ease the burden between your legs. Tongue swiping across his lips as if he was starved, he was certain that you were the most appetizing thing he had ever laid eyes on.

His dark, lustful eyes never left yours while he laid his tongue flat against your vagina, a pleased sigh luring itself out at the taste. The sudden contact hoisted your body off the bed.

Steve's eyes flutter shut when you let out the prettiest moan for him. It only drives him to devour you deeper, completely determined to lap up every drop of your nectar. He was already eager to feel you clench and shake against him as you came. The thought alone sent his body to grind his erection against the firm bed.

The satin sheets you dressed your mattress in were smooth and kind of cold on his cock.

Watching Steve like this was so hypnotizing. Him embraced by your thighs, hair wild, eyebrows knitted with threads of lust and focus, chin soaked from making out with your pussy, and fucking himself on your bed from how feral he was; it was all so dirty it left you speechless.

He didn't even have to touch you, really. Just seeing him be so primal was enough to leave you a moaning mess. Brainless for him. Fuck.

Steve's tongue instantly lands on your clit when he goes to tease it, being so familiar with your body and all. He was so hooked on the way you tasted, that he would eat you for hours on end, if you'd let him. He didn't tire. Steve loved the way he could send you into a frenzy with just his tongue. He got so much pleasure from seeing you in pleasure. It was so fucking sexy.

You were already close to your peak considering how aroused and needy you'd been for the past few minutes. Whining when he unlatched from you, he hushed you, running a thumb from your clit down to your entrance.

He didn't warn you before slipping in his long, slender pointer finger and you both let out a satisfied groan. While you moaned at the penetration, Steve moaned at the way your warm, dripping cunt easily dragged him in, gripping his digit. He used his hand to help you reach the high he knew was coming, curling and pumping in and out of you just the way you liked.

His mouth wasn't done with you yet, though.

Steve's tongue was frantic and slippery across your wetness. Your fingers were lost and running amuck in his brunette tresses as you struggled to cling onto reality. Legs trembling and chest heaving as your breathing got rapid, "Steve, Steve, Steve," tore out of you as if it was the only word in your vocabulary.

You didn't have to say anything else. He knew exactly what time it was.

"Mhm," he hums into you. The resonance from his voice tickles your clit perfectly and it's what you need to launch you over the edge. You slipped into a deep pool of euphoria, completely coming undone for him.

Both of your shaky hands held Steve's head firmly against you, giving him nowhere to go but right where you needed him. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me," his muffled voice wavered a little as he coaxed you delicately.

If your hangover wasn't already making you dizzy enough, then Steve definitely was.

"That's it," he insisted, sweeping a comforting hand along your hips, "Just ride it out for me." His thrusts against the bed nearly brought him to an orgasm of his own but he was determined to save it for you. The way your hole pulsated, it was like it was calling for Steve to fill it.

The tight hold you had on his hair loosened as he crept his way up your body, leaving a trail of kisses behind the further he got.

His face was soaked and covered in an elixir of his spit and your juices, and some of it found solace on your own face when he leaned down to kiss you. The lewdness of it all turned you on more if that was even possible. His smile at you was dopey and naughty and it's wildly infectious.

"How're you feelin'?"

"Dizzy," you confessed, tucking some of his hair behind his ear though it doesn't make it look much neater. Concern straightened Steve's face in the blink of an eye, "Good dizzy or bad dizzy?" The pads of his fingers rushed to your temple to sooth you.

"Good dizzy, for sure," you kissed at his flushed, puffy lips in pure bliss. "Such a good dizzy," your hand trailed down from his stomach to his throbbing member. He was so hard it made you gasp. Steve tended to be harder than usual in the mornings, but this was different.

"You're so hard, oh my God," giggling against his lips, you stroked him agonizingly slow and steady.

"Well, duh. Prettiest girl in the world just came all over my face. How could I not be this hard for you?" His words hitched in his throat when your thumb spread his precum across the tip of his cock, groans rushing out of him.

He thrusted into your hand eagerly, but you soon stopped your movements, much to Steve's dismay. "God, you're such a little tease," he dropped his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the flirty perfume that still dwelled on your skin.

From your ear to your collarbone, he showered you in open-mouthed kisses, whimpers and throaty hums pouring out when he grinded himself against your velvety ass like a dog in heat.

You could tell how badly he needed you.

"And you're such a little hypocrite," a smile played at your lips, "but you're lucky. 'Cause I need you just as bad," you purred, stretching your leg behind his waist, bringing Steve to hold up your knee.

He slapped his cock on your entrance a number of times before running it along your folds, coating himself in your dripping mess. A hearty moan from you set off sparks in Steve's chest when he plunged his hard length into you.

Your pussy welcomed him in with open arms, surely not wanting him to leave as it gripped him tightly when he pulled out only to thrust right back into you.

His and your moans harmonized as you both reveled in the fervor. A hand flew to the back of Steve's head and held him there, loving the way he stretched you so perfectly. His cock was just the way you liked it; thick and veiny in such a way that it caressed your walls inexplicably well. It's a sensation so good that it makes your mind happily go blank and numb.

You were completely at Steve's mercy.

Steve caught your lips when they fell ajar, kissing you deeply. His head went fuzzy when you moaned shamelessly into his mouth, tongues colliding. Your racing pulse thumped against his fingers as he held you by your neck. Pulling away from the kiss, he slid his hand down your chest and stopped right where your heart beat, reminding you to breathe.

Still, his cock trucked in and out of you at a pace that was so delicious. It wasn't too fast and was in no way slow. It was exactly what you both needed.

"Shit, you feel so good."

Droning, you were unable to form any words other than fuck, yes, and Steve. Your mind, body, and soul was burning with a desire and yearn for him. Eyelids low and flickering, you put up a fight to keep your eyes from closing so that you could cherish this sight of him.

Sweeping back his hair, his eyes fluttered shut when you rubbed at his ear, knowing that he liked it so much when you did that, especially in moments like these. Steve loved the way you felt around him, of course, but it was the little intimate touches that really drove him over the edge. Steve wanted to stay here forever.

Your t-shirt bunched up around your chest, leaving your bouncing breasts on full display for him. Your face pulled against his, breath fanning his face as you mewled and moaned and begged. Pleading, glimmering eyes never leaving him. God, how scenic. You were so dreamy. Steve almost wasn't sure if he was still asleep or not.

You grinded yourself back against him, husky moans sounding from the boy that was making you feel so fucking good. Every hard thrust he gave, teased that little sensitive spot inside of you, and you swore you were in some sort of heaven. You cried out, back curving in ecstasy.

"There it is, yeah," he grunted, resting his hand on the spot where your back arched. "Right there, baby?"

Nodding your head hurriedly, a plethora of "yeah"s tripped out of your lips. He thrusted into your dripping core relentlessly, feeling you clench around him tightly. Your eyes were screwed shut and your legs were shaking like leaves in wind.

That, coupled with the gratification Steve was giving himself earlier, he already knew he wasn't going to last much longer but he needed to see you cum again one more time. At least.

His hand ran down your sweaty frame to where your bodies met, drawing circles at your clit.

"I love that. I love this," he praised the way you clenched around his shaft whenever he touched your clit while he was inside of you. It was wildly addicting. Steve couldn't put into words how heavenly you truly felt. He couldn't believe that you were his.

The moans you let out were breathy and frequent, a sure sign that you weren't far behind your climax either.

"You sound so pretty, baby," he whimpered, nudging his head so that his ear was pressed to your lips, not wanting to miss a single little noise you made for him. His clumsy fingers worked tirelessly at your clit. You held onto his wrist as you became consumed by bliss.

His and your hips collide when you buck yourself back against him as your cunt choked down on his cock, body writhing. If you carried on like this, soon you'd be seeing stars.

It's a nirvana that your past lovers were never able to take you to. Not the way Steve could. Steve loved watching you cum. He'd do anything to get you to cum.

"F-Fuck, that's so good. You're doing so good, sunshine. You're so fucking pretty like this. It’s unreal. Holy shit," he babbled. If Steve didn't stop now, he'd surely explode.

While riding out your orgasm, you felt him go suddenly absent. "Why'd you pull out," you whined, head falling back onto your pillow in protest. But trust him, it's the last thing that he wanted to do.

"Because I was about to fucking cum," he whined back, laughing a bit as he squeezed the base of his raging cock. "When you cum you get so tight. It feels so fucking good, you have no idea, baby," he cooed, rushing back into you, already missing your warmth.

After your two orgasms, your hole was impossibly wet and hot and Steve's dick was absolutely drowning. It doesn't take Steve much to utterly crumble. He was now at your mercy, all whiny and needy and desperate for you, fucking you faster and deeper than before. His gaze never dared to leave your face. You were so beautiful it made his chest ache.

If there were a textbook solely dedicated to beauty, there was no doubt in Steve's head that you'd be plastered all over it. Just look at you.

"How're you so perfect, huh? Why are you so perfect? It's not fair, baby, I swear," his thrusts were becoming sloppy and offbeat. "You could get away with anything with a face like this." Steve Harrington. The king of praise. If his cock or mouth couldn't make you cum, his words surely could.

"You gonna cum for me, Steve?" His forehead dropped onto yours as he nodded, beads of sweat falling on your face and you can't say that you mind at all.

Steve loved having you under him like this. Loved having his hands laced through yours on either side of your head, your legs wrapped tight around him, keeping him in. Loved being able to lower his head just a few centimeters to have his lips clash with yours. He just wanted to kiss you and love you and fuck you like this all damn the time.

"Oh, baby." His mouth falls open as whimpers and moans and groans spill everywhere, warm cum spurting into you. Goosebumps erupted all over his body. As he came, his greedy, convulsing body pushed further and further into you, chasing down his high incessantly.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close, while you peppered his contorted face in pecks that were gentle, in contrast to the intensity his body was feeling.

The repeated, grating clanks of your metal headboard beating against your wall slowed and soon quieted once Steve collapsed onto you, totally fucked out and sleepy all over again.

"Fuck, that was so good, princess." A smile pulled at your lips in agreement.

His breathing was heavy and you chose to calm him down by playing with the short little hairs that stuck to his skin from all the sweat.

The crook of his neck was in your face and you noticed the lipstick stains you saw earlier still hadn't faded.

"It looks like you have a sky on your neck," you lilted, finger ghosting over the area below his ear. The sentence made Steve's eyebrows scrunch together. Confused, understandably. Still, he was curious to know what you meant. "I have a what now?"

You reached for the compact mirror on your end table, opening it to give Steve a look, "A sky!"

He blushed at your sweet giggle. "These kiss marks kinda look like clouds and your moles are the stars," you traced them as you spoke. "See? It's a sky," you affirmed with a smile.

Steve only stared back at you with the most lovesick grin on his face. He still couldn't believe you were his. He rested his head back down on your shoulder, drawing invisible patterns along your sternum. "I like the way you see things; the way you think about things. It's so adorable and bright. I love your brain. I love you, sunshine."

Your heart undeniably skipped a couple beats at that. Steve always complimented you, but there was something about how sweet and gooey like honey those words were that made you feel like you were going to burst.

"I love you too, Stevie," you took his freckled cheeks in your hands, planting your smiling lips against his own for a kiss, still tasting yourself on his lips. Pulling away, you ogled the way he beamed, completely and utterly glowing in front of you, the same way the moon outside glowed when it was kissed by the sun's light.

The moon only glows when kissed by the sun.

💌 1 new message from jojo: smut isn’t really in my skillset so im a little unsure abt this lol. but i wrote this with a lot of love, nonetheless! feedback is so greatly appreciated!

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x poc!reader

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strwberri-milk · 3 months

Text

a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3

Wrapped in Moonlight

AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words

additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before

The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.

Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.

“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.

You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.

“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”

The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.

He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.

“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”

And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.

Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.

“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.

You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.

“What are you-”

Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.

“Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”

You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.

“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.

“Hate you?”

The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.

“I could never hate you.”

His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.

“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”

You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.

He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.

“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.

Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.

“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.

“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”

He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.

“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”

The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.

“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”

His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.

Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”

He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.

“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.

“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”

He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.

“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.

“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.

He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.

“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”

He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.

“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”

The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.

He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.

You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.

Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”

Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.

“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.

“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.

Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.

His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.

You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.

“Please – Rafayel – I –“

Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.

When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.

“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.

“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.

You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.

“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.

Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.

“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.

For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.

He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.

“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.

You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.

Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.

“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut

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werecreature-addicted · 5 months

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Wolfie bf taking care and providing for you while you live together in a cabin in the woods while you make food for him and make the place more homey ✨ him coming home to a warm meal and kisses and being so happy that he fucks your brains out by the fireplace and then you fall asleep in his arms with the background noise of the rain 🥹

God, literally the dream. Imagine living deep in the lush woods, in a homey cozy cabin you can spruce up however you like. Your werewolf lover likes to see your style reflected in your shared home. He's never really felt "lonely" living alone but the house feels more like a home, he can't imagine life any other way. You're pretty happy too, obviously, who wouldn't be with such a big tough monster to come home to every day?

He loves to sneak up behind you when you're cooking and pull you away from the kitchen or at least up onto the kitchen counter. shhh, dinner can wait he's not that hungry anyway- he wants his welcome home kisses.

it's hard to deny him because you want to kiss him, but you know that he's too greedy to settle for just one kiss. you know that if you give him more than a peck his big hands will slip to your waist, and push down your pants. He's had a long day and just wants to bury his wolf tongue deep inside of you, how can you complain about that?

You convince him to at least take you to the living room to eat you out and keep the counters clean. He always makes a mess when he eats you, not stopping until you're making a mess squirting on his face.

he breathes heavily, licking his lips as he looks down at your throbbing pussy. you can see his hard cock straining, begging for attention. "need to be in you," he whimpers, as he slowly glides his hard cock over your pussy.

"fuck me," you invite, and he does.

The two of you stay curled in each other's arms lying on the rug in front of the fireplace. you feel his knot go down but he doesn't pull away, you don't ask him to either. it's nice like this, wrapped in your werewolf's big arms, comfy in your perfect little home.

#monster fucker #monster #monster boyfriend #teratophillia #monster imagine #werewolf x reader #werewolves #werewolf #werewolf boyfriend

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writing-in-glitter-pen · 6 months

Text

This Garden You've Grown ❀

Wriothesley catches you where you shouldn't be, little did he know, you were just the right person, in just the right place.

wriothesley x fem!reader II fluff, romance

part two ♡ part three ♡

"I'll need you to come with me, miss."

You whirled around, a basket full of perfectly bloomed tulips clutched in your hand. Before you stood a large, burly-figured man, dawning a set of spiky cuffs and a grim expression. You recognized this man as none other than Wriothesley---Duke of the Fortress Meropide. But what did he want with you?

All you had been doing was enjoying your time in your favorite spot outside the city---a small plot in a lush expanse of fields you'd made your own personal garden; growing all sorts of plants, including the pretty pink tulips you'd just been harvesting. You'd found this place a handful of months ago on a stroll outside The Court of Fontaine's grounds---needing a break from city life. It was so easy to get wrapped up in the buzz of the bustling streets and forget the beauty of nature. You'd decided it was a waste to leave a perfectly fertile field unused, so you began your garden.

...that you were now being arrested in.

"Excuse me?", you asked politely, needing clarification as to why he wanted to take you away.

"You heard me, don't make this difficult.", the duke had an irritated look on his face, like he was reprimanding a bratty child that knows better than to do what they did.

...but really you had no clue what you did!

You frantically squabbled to find your words as he descended on you---his strides slow but covering much more distance than your quick, short legs could as you scurried backwards away from him. Once he reached grabbing distance from you, preparing his cuffs as his large hand gripped your squishy bicep, you managed to squeak out, "but what did I do?" as he dragged you to him.

For a moment, he haulted his actions, holding you against him and taking in your genuinely perplexed, even fearful expression. Had you really not known what you were doing?

"You're trespassing on restricted grounds.", he clarified.

Your face paled.

"...I am?", you asked, panic rising to your throat.

He nodded sternly, "These grounds are property of the city, common folk are not allowed to enter without licensed permission,", he leaned over slightly to peer into your basket, "even if it is just to pick tulips.".

Your mouth fell open as you looked between your basket and Wriothesley, whose intimidating attention on you was beginning to make you feel suffocated. All you could manage to come up with in your anxious brain frog was, "Oh...". Your mind was screaming---you couldn't go to Meropide, not over this!

The clear horror and confusion in your eyes, paired with how you'd begun to shake in his grip stilled him. Normally, this is when criminals would start pleading for their freedom, making bribes to circumvent the law, but you just froze like a deer in headlights.

From where he stood, it appeared that you'd been knowingly stealing properly-grown-goods from a city-owned field with the possible intent to sell them; but the innocent expression on your face told him otherwise. If selling your stolen goods was truly was your intent, you wouldn't relinquish them without a price. So he decided to run a little test.

"Maybe, if you offered me those tulips, I could look the other way.".

He braced for your bartering, your indignance or anger...

...what he didn't expect was your forlorn expression; how your eyes became heavy as you looked down at your flowers, your poor lip quivering as you held out your basket for him to take without hesitation.

A criminal wouldn't relinquish their goods so readily, and they definitely wouldn't look so broken hearted over something they'd merely stolen.

No, these flowers were special to you.

In any other case, he wouldn't have hesitated or cared about motives when prosecuting a trespasser...but something about you moved him.

His hand gingerly covered yours and pushed your basket back to your chest.

"I can see these are important to you, and you have no ill-intent, but you're still breaking the law by coming here.", he looked dissapointed---you were a perfectly good person, and you'd looked so happy before he showed up; you didn't deserve this.

You quickly nodded, hope in your eyes as you squeezed your basket tighter, "I'm sorry! I won't come back!".

The duke let out a long sigh, but nodded---satisfied with your answer. He felt guilty for ruining your fun, he hadn't known you'd get so scared over something so minor. He wished he'd handled you more delicately. "Don't go taking anything else from the field...but you can keep the flowers you picked. I won't tell.".

There was hesitation in your eyes as you looked up at him cautiously, "...you're sure?".

"Of course. I couldn't deprive you of something you clearly love so much.". Though his words were kind, his stern expression did not leave his face---maintaining his rough law-man exterior so as not to look soft in the face of crime.

"Thank you..." you said, your voice almost like a whisper as you touched the soft petals of the flowers you'd nurtured to full growth, then looked back at the rest of your field sorrowfully. This was a goodbye to your project---to the little respite you'd made for youself outside the city.

His eyebrows furrowed, you looked like your house had just burnt to the ground before your eyes. There had to be something he was missing.

"...if I may ask, why would you risk trespassing in a restricted area just to pick flowers? Did you think you wouldn't get caught? Or did you just not care about the rules?", you felt the rumble of his gruff voice in your chest---having just realized you were still pressed right up against him.

You looked down bashfully, half from your proximity to the dashing, rugged gentleman, and the other half from the admission you were about to make.

"...I wasn't aware this area was restricted...I'd actually planted this garden quite a while ago. I've been coming back every day to care for it ever since.". You were nervous that the details of your situation that you were disclosing might get you into greater trouble, but you couldn't just leave your garden with no one to care for it---at least if you're honest, the city might hire someone to nurture it in your stead, rather than just leaving it to die.

If you looked closely, you could see a twinkle of realization in the duke's eyes, though he masked it well.

"...I see...", not only did you not intend to tresspass, you weren't actually stealing either. All of this garden, save for the ground it is planted on, belongs to you. "I'm willing to make an exception for you, but in the future, make sure you're aware of the laws and regulations before you enter a restricted area.".

You nodded obidiently, something Wriothesley approved of in criminals, but made his heart twinge with guilt seeing a person with good intentions like you comply out of intimidation.

"I understand, sir. I'll vacate immediately."

You'd begun to step away from him, but he easily pulled you back, drawing your concerned gaze. You wondered if there was something else you had to do to right your mistake; was he going to have you tear up your beloved garden as well? That would truly devastate you.

He was quiet for a moment as he looked on at your lush garden and weighed his decision in his mind. Then, he looked back down into your innocent, breathtakingly adorable eyes and spoke, "...you may continue your gardening as long as you don't expand it. Don't go past the tilled land.", he pointed the boundary out to you, "Understand?".

His eyes widened as he met your gaze once again; he didn't think your eyes could get any prettier, but the way they glittered in excitement had his heart doing summersaults---and your pleased smile filled him with a sense of accomplishment.

You nodded gratefully, it was like he'd just given you the world, "I understand. Thank you so much for letting me keep it."

With that, he nodded curtly, then turned to leave; he didn't want to bother you more than he already had.

But before he could exit the grounds, you piped up, "...would you like to see what else I'm growing?".

You'd caught him by surprise; he slowly turned back to face you, taking a moment to process the question, before nodding, "Sure. Love to.". That sense of accomplishment once again bloomed in his chest as his simple agreement to be given a tour of your project brought the brightest smile to your face.

You quickly ushered him over, looping your arm through his to tote him from destination to destination; pointing out the various plants you'd been growing and telling him about each and every one.

"These are cherry heirloom tomatoes; they're a little more citrussy and sweet than regular tomatoes, and obviously, they're teeny. I like putting them in salads.", you picked one off the vine and held it up for him to try. He inspected it for a moment, before cleaning it on his shirt and popping it into his mouth. His eyes lit up as the taste hit him---these were really good. Better than anything he could buy at the market, that's for sure. You continued on with your little tour, "This is lavender---it smells wonderful.".

He chuckled at your interesting collage of plants, "the tomatoes I can understand, but what's with the lavender?", he didn't find much point in growing anything inedible in a garden.

The sun perfectly illuminated your rosy cheeks and cheerful smile as you beamed up at him, "The smell helps me sleep, and sometimes I like to dry bundles of it and give them away as gifts.".

His expression once again became thoughtful and judicial before he replied, "If you have trouble sleeping, then by all means, grow as much lavender as you want. But you can't go giving them out to the public.". He felt guilty for suddenly imposing all these rules onto your passion project, but it was his job to maintain order. You didn't oppose, only nodded in understanding.

"Ok, I won't give any away...", you reached down and picked a few vibrant purple, fully bloomed sprigs, then sinched them together with a little roll of twine you keep in your gardening basket, "...but would it be ok if I gave you some?". You outstretched you hand to him, head tilted as your eyes almost begged him to take the gift.

You were such a sweetheart.

"...you don't have to, but if you really want to give me some lavender, you can..." he carefully took the bundle from your outstretched hand---his fingers brushing yours in a way that made your cheeks turn pink, "I won't refuse.". Your eyes widened in surprise when he flashed you a wolffish grin, this was the first time his stoic expression broke. You were dazzled.

You found yourselves admiring one another in silence; you were infatuated with his smile, he was infatuated with your kind, gentle expression. For a moment, it felt like both your hearts were beating as one---racing together through your chests...and you two were standing awfully close for strangers.

You'd lost yourself so completely in him, you didn't realize how long you'd been standing like that. Once you came to your senses, you shook your head right and looked away from him shyly as you found your words, "If you put it in a vase beside your bed, it'll help you fall asleep...".

He continued to admire you as his grin became a softer smile. No one had ever offered him lavender as a gift before, and your desire to help him sleep peacefully touched him, even though it wasn't a problem he struggled with.

"Thank you. You really didn't have to do that."

The duke's mind was practically spinning with new emotions. You were pretty, sure, but your sweet nature, your compulsion for compassion, your friendliness to someone who is not only a stranger, but had nearly been an assailant not too long ago, reached deeply into him and practically claimed his heart just as you had claimed this garden.

It was yours now---because of what you cultivated in it.

Your smile really couldn't get more wonderful, but the doting look you gave him made him sigh contentedly.

"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to! You've been so generous with me, I want to be generous with you too..."

Wriothesley, who had never been in love before, wouldn't have guessed that a single meeting with a stranger could make him fall so hard. He had only just met you, but he felt like he'd been searching for you forever, and in a way, that means he's already known you longer than anyone else.

If he could stay in this garden with you forever, he would, but he had important duties that demanded his attention. Regretably, he had to take his leave.

He flashed you one last charming smile before parting with you.

"Thank you...I won't forget this.".

He felt like he had to assure you; like promising he'd keep them was promising he wasn't going to let you go. He cherished the grateful smile you gave him, and with one last wave, he departed.

...he'd have to patrol this area more often.

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin fic #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley fluff #wriothesley x you #genshin wriothesley #genshin impact #genshin x female reader #genshin x f!reader #wriothesley fic #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x fem reader

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navybrat817 · 3 months

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Can lumberjack Bucky keep me warm? 🥺

He'd love to, nonnie.

A Warm Embrace

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky teases you as he keeps you warm. Word Count: Over 600 Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, pet names, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Are you lovelies sick of my fluff? Sorry, but Burly and Bambi are sweet.❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You couldn't sleep. Not with how cold you were. The thick blanket tucked around you should've been more than enough to keep you warm, but it didn't stop your teeth from chattering. The howling wind outside sent another shiver down your spine as you tried to burrow yourself deeper into your bed. Maybe you should've thrown another log on the fire.

Better yet, you should've just camped out in front of the fireplace instead of stubbornly going to the bedroom.

“Stupid cold,” you grumbled to yourself, rubbing your face against the pillow when gentle footsteps approached the bed.

Your eyes flew open when the mattress dipped behind you, a warm weight enveloping your back under the blanket before a heavy arm curled around you. “Can hear your teeth chatting from the other room, Bambi,” a deep voice rumbled.

The tremble that rolled through your body had nothing to do with the cold when Bucky rubbed his soft beard against your neck. “I slipped on the ice one time,” you muttered.

He chuckled before he kissed the back of your neck, tracing the path his beard made as you bit your lip. “Yeah, but you tried so hard to stay upright before gravity took you out. Just like Bambi.”

“I’ll have you know that I fell very gracefully,” you said before he turned your body toward him, your heart racing as you came face-to-face with the lumberjack.

Bucky was the captivating sort of handsome, the type that made people stop in their tracks when they caught a glimpse of him. From his lush brown hair to the depths of his intelligent and striking blue eyes, it was like an angel carved him out specifically for you. But what was beautiful about him came from within and shined through the surface.

Even when he teased you.

“I watched the whole thing, darling, and you were about as graceful as a baby deer,” he said, his azure eyes filled with glee when you narrowed yours. “Again, just like Bambi.”

“You know, you’re lucky you’re cute, Burly. And warm,” you said, tearing your gaze away from his pretty eyes to stare at his broad chest. Of course, he walked around the cabin shirtless while you couldn’t stop shaking. How was he so hot? Body and looks wise?

Was it a rule that lumberjacks were sin incarnate clad in packages of plaid shirts and tight pants with sturdy bodies underneath?

“So, you do think I’m cute,” he teased, your stomach flipping as you smiled at his words. Of course, you did. “Come here.”

You buried your face in his chest as his arm tightened around you, molding your body against his as you sought out more of his warmth. He rested his chin on the top of your head as your shaking eventually stopped, his calloused hand roaming along your back with immense care. All you wanted to do minutes ago was sleep, but now he was holding you and pushing a thick thigh between your legs and all you wanted to do was bask in his attention.

Maybe ride his thigh, too.

“You’re right, you know,” he said.

You tried to lean back as much as you could to get a good look at him, but didn’t want any space between the two of you in case you started shivering again. “Right about what?”

He brought his hand to your cheek as his lips curled in a small smile. “I am lucky,” he whispered, helping you tilt your head so he could kiss you, slow and deep.

And lucky for you, your lumberjack would always be by your side.

Because I need another AU, right? SHH. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sukuslutx · 2 months

Text

Just the two of us. — R. Sukuna

— for just how long could you keep up the tough act?

Feat. true form!Sukuna, fem!reader

CW: minor death (of an npc), blood, rough sex turned soft kinda, you are also a jujutsu sorcer with a cursed technique, breeding,he has two dicks, hair pulling, Sukuna being a tease, angst if you squint – also kinda not proofread

wc ~ 4.9k

Note: My biggest red flag gotta be thinking I could personally be such a bitch to him and still get away with it.

''Sukuna-sama called for you'', you hear the maid say in a lowly tone, barely audible against the backdrop of your contemplative gaze out the window into the lush gardens below. The day held promise in its sun-kissed embrace, yet a subtle disquiet lingered in the air. You grinned at your own reflection in the mirror, pausing your makeup adjustments, acknowledging the maid with a simple nod before she retreated.

You got off the chair and made your way there, a soft melody dancing from your lips as you traversed the halls to Sukuna's chambers. Irritatation and annoyance both suddenly washing over you as you heard the loud sounds coming from inside the room. You supressed a sigh and instead giggled to yourself as you opened the door and entered.

''Sukuna-sama, feels so good'', the woman on his lap babbling, fucked out of her mind already as she was mindlessly bouncing on him. You noticed that he didnt actually give a single care about the woman in front of him when his eyes met yours. He knew you were watching, flashing you an annoying grin. The next thing he felt was blood splashing on his face. The woman's head exploding right in front of him.

''So fucking loud, such a bother'', you said as you approached him. Whatever was left of the body falling backwards and off his lap, you kick it to the side out the way as you stood in front of him.

''Why must you make me do this shit'', your tone annoyed as you pressed your hands onto his chest.

''It's quite entertaining dont you think'', he looks down at you, one pair of his hands coming to grab your hips. You leaned in closer, your lips curling into a smirk as you met Sukuna's gaze with a mixture of amusement and defiance. "Entertaining, perhaps'', your lips brushed over his but just as they were about to connect completely you move your head back, „but I tire of cleaning up after your messes," you retorted, your voice dripping with disdain.

Sukuna chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulled you closer. "Oh, but my dear, you will always do anything for me, would you not?" he remarked, his tone laced with mockery.

You gritted your teeth, suppressing the urge to lash out at him. Instead, you forced a smirk and pushed against his chest, breaking free from his grasp. "I excel at many things, Sukuna," you countered, your voice ice-cold, "but indulging your whims may not be one of them anymore."

Sukuna's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and something else, something darker and more primal. "Is that so?" he murmured, his voice low and husky as he took a step closer to you, his presence overwhelming.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. Despite your best efforts to resist, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you that threatened to consume you whole. It was always like this with him. You hate that he was right, you would do anything for him, hell you would bend over backwards if he demanded without a second thought, but he was the same.

''I still don't get why you need these lowly women, when you know that no one can satisfy you like I do'', you spoke back at him, your voice laced with an icy edge as you came closer to him again pushing him back onto his chair. ''Perhaps so, but it makes the sex better overall when I get you worked up'', he chuckles.

''Stop talking'', you tell him as you move down to your knees in between his spread legs. Two of his dicks towering in front of you as you licked your lips deliciously. Amusement danced in his eyes as you brazenly mirrored his demeanor, your defiance is always such a delightful spectacle. None dared to challenge him, yet you, with your unwavering spirit still did, unafraid of the consequences that might follow. You weren't scared of death, to be honest dying by his hands would probably be the best way to go out, you thought.

You flashed him a smirk as you took one of his dicks in your mouth while lazily stroking the other. ''I'll ruin you'', was all he said as he suddenly jolted feeling your teeth grazing his dick. He quickly yanked you by the hair and up to meet his face. Yet, rather than recoil from his grasp, you met his gaze head-on, a defiant smirk playing upon your lips."Don't threaten me with a good time, big guy," you quipped, your voice laced with lust, daring to challenge the formidable force that held you in his grasp.

Sex between the two of you was never romantic, never soft nor gentle. For that you needed a pure kind of love, and that was something neither of you had. In the tumultuous dance between you and him, love in its conventional form was an elusive phantom. Instead, what bound you together was a volatile concoction of desire and obsession, a toxic essence that ignited flames of passion even as it left scars upon your soul.

''You still got that fitlhy mouth on you little minx, one day ill manage to fuck that behaviour out of you'', he dragged you by the hair and threw you onto the bed. You squirmed up to him quickly ''but you love it, do you not?''.

He just scoffed back in response. ''Thought so'', you pushed him to lay down as you crawled up his chest, tracing it with your tongue. Your hands tracing his inked skin. Gosh you knew and memorized every inch of him. You positioned yourself to sit on his face, untangling the garments you've been covered with. No underwear underneath, after all it was the most convenient. You lowered your soaking wet pussy onto his face. A barely audiable sound escaped your lips, you can't believe that what got you this wet was killing that woman right in front of Sukuna. You suddenly get pulled from your short train of thoughts as you felt Sukuna's mouth attach to your folds in an instant. He inhaled your scent, fuck he could never get tired of it, the way you taste, that was his opium. Two of his hands snaking around your thighs pulling you down onto him, while the other two moved up your body to your breast as he gave them a squeeze. He started his assault onto your aching core, just with his tongue. He knew all of your weak spots so he didn't need much more. You began grinding on his mouth, soft moans already escaping your lips. You could be loud but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction this soon. He was so good at this, after all you did it so many times, how could he not be. The sensation of his tongue inside you was just otherworldly.

His lips lapped on your folds, his tongue proding into your hole, he moved one of his hand up to your lips waiting for you to take a hint and take his fingers in your mouth. You slightly opened your mouth to let him enter, tongue already lapping onto his fingers, coating them with your spit. „Good girl“, he mummbles, almost inaudiable from the squelching noises of your pussy. He moved his hand lower snaking it behind you and to your other hole. You let out a hiss as you felt his fingers proding inside. He started to bully them inside of you, his tongue still assaulting your pussy. Stimulated from both ends you started to feel dizzy. One of the hands that was on your hips now moving down to your clit, he pressed on it and started circling his thumb over it, just enough to drive you crazy. He looked up at you, scanning your features, he took a mental note of your expression, this would truly fuel his ego more than it already has. He was a damn tease though. It could go two ways with him, he will either overstimulate you, giving you one orgasm after another to the point your fingers turn pale white from clenching on anything that you could grab or he would edge you but not giving you the release you needed or until you reached an orgasm so pathetic that only left you needing more. Unfortunately for you, today he felt more like doing the latter. So, just as you were about to reach the point of ecstasy, that faimiliar knot forming in your stomach, hands tangling and gripping his hair, eyes turning back, suddenly it all stopped as he forcefully moved you off of his face.

„I cant believe you got this wet from what? Killing that woman?, you might be sicker than me“, he chuckled, his gaze directed towards you. You were already annoyed, he edged you. Not even giving you that sweet release. Fucking prick you thought.

„Why are you pouting all of a sudden? Wanted to cum?, oh my poor baby“, he laughed, „Ya know how many times I told you if you want something take it for yourself. Now, ride me“

He moved up to the headrest leaning onto it, you crawled up to him once again.

„Just shut up and stay still“, you climbed over his lap your pussy that was just moments ago cleanching over air now is just above his dicks. You never really did foreplay much, nor did he bother. You could take the pain, you relinquished in it. He loved that about you though, you could take anything he gives you with a shit eating grin on your face.

Your hand slipped behind you, coming into contact with his dicks as you positioned them to be at each of your holes. „Fuck, are you just going to push them in like that?“, Sukuna grunted one of his hands grabbing your neck, squeezing it just enough to excite you. You hissed from the stretch and you could only feel the tips of his dicks. ''Ngh- shit.'', you bit down hard on your bottom lip.

''Ho-, does it hurt?'', he cuckled squeezing your throat just a little bit tighter. You looked directly into his eyes with a cold gaze. If he were anyone else you might've made him shiver. „Fuck you“, you spat at him as you bottomed out completely onto his dicks. Fuck, it hurt like a bitch, it was taking everything in you to surpress a loud scream that was threatening to escape your sweet lips. You still manage to amaze him, even after all of these years you still had it in you to do so.

On your end, your thoughts were all over the place, fuck, you did this so many times why was your body feeling strange. You had to agree with the bastard, you were a sick fuck just like him. Both of your holes felt like they were being torn in half, yet riding him just now didn't feel bad at all. Why were you so aroused over a fucked up situation. It's all cus of him, you thought. He brought the worst in you, but was it really that bad when you yourself enjoyed it to the last bit. „Ha- you fucking bastard“, you looked at him nothing but a grin on his face as he was analysing your features. „What the fuck are you grinning at?“, you looked down at his prominent chest your hands moving up his torso. „Wish you could see yourself right now“, his lips smirking while anger bubbles up within you.

„Why you-„ you suddenly got cut off, your breath stuck in your throat as he thrusted himself up forcefully into you, the stretch even more prominent. By reflex you tried to push him down and squirm on his lap, and he does halt his movements seemingly complying, but only to thurst up once again a bit more forcefully. This time you were falling forward onto his muscular chest. Your mouth fell open as you felt the tips of his dicks hitting so deep in both your holes, and Sukuna already reveled in the way you completely started to fall apart on his dicks. You pushed yourself back up, face contorting with pleasure.

„When will your little brain understand,..“, Sukuna spoke as he placed two of his hands on your waist gripping it harshly as he moved you up his dicks, „that you can't ever win“, he grinned so annoyingly while looking at you as he forcefully pulled you down bottoming out once again, filling both your holes just perfectly, „against me“. You screamed out, not being able to hold yourself back any longer. „Ahh- FUCK.“, your back arched deliciously in his hold, both your holes twitching as you felt almost as if you were losing control over your body for a moment there. The sweet pain turning into pleasure real quick. You had to turn this around, you couldn't just let him have his fun nor overpower you just yet. You will let him have his fun later, you thought, but for now you'll try to be equal on this battlefield. Your next action wasn't calculated, it just crossed your mind as you saw his prominent chest. His nipples were always sensitive, that was something no one knew but you. After all, you were the only one who was actually allowed to put your hands on him. Due to his strong grip on your hips and your legs already starting to get weak, you couldnt get out of his hold, so instead, you traced his chest with your hands as you reached up to one of his nipples and pinched it- hard. He instantly hissed, his movements stuttering a bit already, overwhelmed by the sudden sensation he felt. „Ho-?“, you murmered, flashing him a smirk, as you pinched it harder.

„Don't test me“, he grunted, almost completely halting now all of his movements.

„Oh- I think I just might“, you giggled as you leaned forwards onto him, latching your mouth on one his nipples in an instant, still continuing your assault on the other, rolling it between your fingers. You could hear him groan loudly but he wasn't doing anything to stop your actions. „Hah- whats wrong Sukuna-sama, getting weak on me now?“ Another hiss coming out of his lips as he felt you bite down on his nipple. He won't admit he was enjoying this, and you knew that your fun will soon be over and just then one of his arms reached up, tangled into your hair and yanked you off of him. „Did you have your fun“, his face just inches away from yours.

„Hmm-“, before you even got to answer you were already pulled off of him and thrown back onto the bed. „I suppose it's my turn then“, the look in his eyes was a wild one, anyone else in your place would be shuddering in fear from it, but not you. The endless possibilities of what he might do next excited you beyond comprehension. You didn't even have the time to react before he was already towering over you. One of his arms cupping both of yours and pinning them above your head; the third one coming into contact with your neck squeezing it just right, while the other two grabbed both of your legs pushing your knees up to your chest as he had you fully pinned down to the matress like that. You tried to squirm unsuccessfully, you hated how your aching core got even wetter from the way he could just so easily restrain you. Actually, who were you kidding, you loved a man that could challenge you, and even manage to dominate you. You were turned on by the helplessnes you felt under him. He brought his face closer to you so you decided to use up the opportunity, and with some strenght you have left pushing your head up until your lips met his. He grinned into the kiss as he instantly gave in. Your lips clashing and fighting for dominance over one another, tongues dancing with each other. As you were about to detach your lips from his you bit down on his bottom lip hard, drawing blood. You instantly licked it up, the metallic taste clouding your mind, „Fuck me, hard“ you murmered over his lips as your head fell back onto the matress again. A grin so wide decorating his face. He didn't need to say anything, his facial expression was telling you everything you needed to know. There was a spark in his eyes that was about to ignite any second now, both of his dicks aching more than they have been. In a single thurst he bottomed out, both your holes felt full again. A soft gasp and a pityful moan leaving your lips as he started pounding into you, there was no holding back any longer. The perverted sounds of skin on skin contact grew louder and louder as both your holes were drooling from the delicious stretch of his thick size and lenght. The hand around your throat squeezing it a little tighter than before, restricting your oxygen. You started to feel dizzy from the feeling, yet you still grinned, you must be out of your mind. The sensation was one that seemed eternally foreign, a sensation you believed you could never grow accustomed to.

He looked so beautiful towering over you, his visage that others might find monstrous and repulsive held an inexplicable allure for you. As your eyes met his, a spark ignited within you, a spark that seemed to dance in the depths of your soul. But why were these thoughts invading your mind? You shook your head abruptly, as if to disperse the unwelcome intruders, desperately attempting to push away any notion that threatened to breach the fragile barrier you had built around your heart. Did you truly need to remind yourself once more of the nature of the connection between the two of you? You prayed fervently that he hadn't caught wind of any of this.

„Ah, whats that look in your eyes sweetheart, if i didn't know you, I would think you are in love or something“, he chuckled, thrusting into you.

„Fucking bastard-„, you just groaned, already annoyed over such a statement.

„Now, now-„ he grinned, as he began to pick up the pace of his movements. The hands that were holding your legs, pressing your knees to your chest, tightening their grip as his hips rammed into you harder and harder. You hissed, the sensation starting to be painful. His hips strained as he kept forcing himself in and out of you. The intensity of his thrusts making you jolt in the bed. You felt his grip on your hands starting to loosen until he let them completely free. Taking the opportunity you snaked your arms around his neck and pulled him closer down. You started biting along his jawline moving down to his neck, leaving visible marks on purpose. You knew he wouldn't heal them, you wanted them to be as visible as possible. You were reaching your high again, and you can feel he was too, so you squeezed around him just perfectly, tipping both of you over the edge. With a loud groan he emptied himself inside you, coating your walls white. He could see that familiar white circle forming around his dicks from your own juices. You knew this was far from over but you took the liberty to try and calm down, both of your holes sensitive. It was short lived.

„On all fours for me“, he wasn't asking, it was a demand but fuck if you were ever the obedient one.

„No“, you responded with a scoff, you were always the one to test his limits. You felt him pull out of you as he grabbed your hips tightly. His nails leaving creasent moon patterns where they bruised your delicate skin. He pulled you towards the end of the bed and flipped you around onto your stomach, your ass up.

Sukuna pulled your folds apart with one hand and same for the other hole, as he admired the view of your arousal and his cum dripping out and down to your thighs. The thoughts of brutalizing your already sensitive holes and emptying himself over and over again inside of you clouded his mind, both of his dicks impossibly hard again.

„Well, remember you fucking asked for this“, your eyes went wide as Sukuna harshly thrusted into you once again, but this time picking up the pace instantly as his hips slammed into you. You grabbed the sheets of the bed and squeezed them as some makeshift support. As he relentlesly pummeled into your holes, you were succumbed with pleasure once again, he felt insanely bigger from this angle, the feeling beginning to turn your brain into mush. Each of his thrusts calculated, he knew how to make you go insane, and as he kept going you were slowly losing touch with reality, mumbling things as you lost control of what you were saying. The feeling so heavenly, as your approached another orgasm.

''Suku-, ah... feeels so good-„ you moaned, your soft voice was like music to his ears, as they perked up. He wanted to hear more. „Hm? What was that-, mind repeating it for me?“, you might not see him but you knew he was grinning down at you. The thought of his smug face right now made you want to turn around and smash his beautiful face in.

„Fuck you“, you bit back as you tried your best to get ahold of yourself despite the pleasure he was giving you. You don't want to give him the satisfaction of being in control any longer but the feeling was so infatuating. In an instant you jolted, as you felt a harsh smack on your ass, leaving a red handprint that will most likely bruise. You hissed from the sting, but you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on even more than you already were. If it were even possible the smirk on Sukuna's face got wider as he continued to fuck you; your ass just perfectly bouncing off of him, taking him so well like you always did. He wanted you at his mercy, he loved that you never gave in so quickly without a fight, it was like a tugawar between the two of you, but nevertheless he knew that he could always make you crumble. You made him too, on several occassions, but right now he wanted the satisfaction of you begging for him, for his cocks, calling his name over and over again like some prayer.

He decided to pull out suddenly, your body falling flat on the matress. You instantly turned around, letting out a whine. The feeling of emptiness and lack of stimulation bubbling up within you. „You did it again, you prick“, your voice full of irritation as you glared at him.

„If you want to cum, I'll need you to beg for it“, he retorted, grinning back at you.

„Like hell I will“, you bit back, frustrated about the situation once again.

„Well, we'll see about that“, he taunted. The next thing you know, he rested once again back leaning on the bedrest as he picked your sensitive body and positioned you onto his lap. However, he was holding you just above his aching dicks. Both your holes barely grazing the tips. Your hands were on his shoulder while he held you up with two of his. You squirmed around, wanting to just feel full again, but his tight grip on your hips never let you do so.

„Beg.“

„No.“, you responded, trying once again to squirm in his hold but failing miserably. He latched his lips onto your neck, kissing, biting and sucking, harshly as always. He wanted to leave as many marks as possible. His bites drawing blood that he licked right up. You were biting down on your lip, containing any sound that might slip but the soft moans he oh so loved still found their way out. One of his hands traced down your body until it reached your sensitive clit. His lips attaching to yours as he started teasingly circling over your bundle of nerves. He wanted to make you crumble in his hold. You moaned into the kiss, hands tangling into his hair. This feeling was different. It almost seemed like one between true lovers. You blinked the thought away as you dettached yourself from this lips, catching your breath before connecting them again. The teasing sensation of his fingers over your clit wasn't enough anymore. You needed more, you needed him. All different emotions washed over you and before you knew it you were already crumbling slowly.

„Please-„ it came out breathy.

„Please what?“, he looked into your eyes. Sukuna immersed himself in the current moment, a storm of conflicting emotions roiled within him as he heard your voice as soft as that. Were you ever before like that, he doesn't recall but it was different.

„Please, I need you-„ you spoke softly again, burrying your face into his shoulder. He just hummed, tightening the grip on your hips as he dragged you down onto his lenght completely. You let out a shrill scream from the sudden stretch again, but quickly composed yourself as it turned into breathy moans and pleads for more and more. You could feel the coil in your stomach form again as the pleasure he was givng you was everything you needed and more. You squeezed around him, wanting to make him feel good like he did for you. His hands were roaming over your body and lips tracing from your jaw to your neck so possessively. You loved the sounds that he would make when he was being satisfied.

On his part with each possessive touch and primal growl that escaped his lips, he reveled in the raw intensity of your connection at the moment. His actions that were always fueled by a hunger that bordered on obsession, yet, beneath the veneer of dominance and control, there simmered a quiet unease—a gnawing realization of the transient nature of this connection you both shared.

He picked up his pace, his hips slamming up into you from below as his lips never left yours. Drinking up every sound he got out of you. He looked at you closely, analysing your features. Your eyes were closed so you didn't notice him staring.

You were a mere mortal, he thought, a fragile wisp of mortality destined to fade into oblivion like countless others before you. And though the thought should have brought satisfaction, a perverse sense of power, instead it left him with a hollow ache. He surely wouldn't miss you though, right? Someone else will come and replace you.

His fingers traced over your sensitive bud once again, as his pace never once faltered. You were so close to your high, your moans were getting louder, as the sensation grew more and more pleasurable, he could feel you tighten even more around him.

„Cum for me“, he spoke in between the kisses he was tracing down your neck and that was all you needed to get tipped over the edge and completely crumble around him. He soon followed, painting your walls white and as he claimed you with a ferocity born of desperation, he pushed aside these fleeting moments of tenderness that threatened to break through the facade of indifference. He was not one for softness, for gentle caresses and whispered endearments. No, he was a creature of darkness and dominance.

And yet, amid the brutality of your coupling as it was from the very beginning, there still lingered a silent acknowledgment—a begrudging respect for the mortal who dared to challenge him, to stand toe-to-toe with him and demand satisfaction.

Sukuna found himself surrendering to the moment, reveling in the raw power of your connection even as he braced himself for the inevitable moment when you would slip away, leaving behind nothing but a fading memory. So after satisfying the hunger that had drawn you together, you rose from the tangled sheets, retrieving your discarded robe from the floor. Sukuna watched you with an intensity that made your skin tingle, his gaze lingering on your retreating form as you moved to leave..

"Where are you going?" his voice, low and commanding broke the silence, ''you won't sleep here?''.

You bit down on your bottom lip, torn between the desire to stay and the need to protect yourself from the inevitable heartache that would surely follow. "You know we don't do that," you murmured softly, the words heavy with unspoken longing.

''Right..'' he spoke back. Even though you held yourself good he noticed the shift within you but he decided not to bring it up.

''Goodnight Sukuna...'', you whispered.

He just hummed in response as you turned your back to him and closed the door behind you. As you slipped away into the predawn silence, you couldn't help but wonder if he could hear the words you couldn't bring yourself to say. You could keep up the tough act for a while more... couldnt you?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #sukuna jjk #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #gojo smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujustu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna true form

598 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 7 months

Text

On her back

Male Reader x Bae Joohyun

Length: 2958 words

Tags: Daddy kink, Master kink, breeding kink, literal breeding, like impregnation, rough sex, mating press (for literal, REAL mating), from loving to degradation, emotional manipulation, teasing, overstimulation, multiple creampies, spitting, toxic relationships

TW: rough impregnation, emotional manipulation, the usual "On her" stuff

Inspiration/Credit: not possible without @sooyadelicacies, my great co-writer and inspirator

(A/N: Reminder that OC is an asshole and that this is fiction. Anyways, rough daddy kink breeding sex, yay. Enjoy a subby!Irene lol. Btw, it's been more than a year since Part 1 came out!)

“I’m here if you need a break from all these youngsters xoxo”

You are alone in the backseat of a Mercedes-Benz, quietly sipping on a cool, refreshing beverage with your airpods in. You need to destress and know just the person to see. You put your drink down and begin to close your eyes, settling in for a quick nap before you arrive at your destination.

Maybe it was only a few minutes, maybe it was much longer than that, but you feel the car stop and you begin to wake.

"We have arrived, sir."

Looking out, you find a beautiful secluded home surrounded by lush greenery. One of your many getaways.

"Thank you, as always," you say politely as the door opens up for you and you're handed your luggage. You stroll up to the door and put in the passcode as well as the biometric scan of your fingerprint. But before you turn the knob, the door already opens and you are greeted by a stunning beauty.

"Irene," you say simply.

"Hello, my love."

"It's been a while," you add, a sigh on your lips, but you keep it down.

"It really has," the small woman responds, hands fidgeting on her sides as she just stands there, her boundless beauty that will persist for decades to come filling the air like the strong, vibrant smell of ripe fruits.

"God, you're so fucking pretty."

This time, the sigh is at least palpable in the aftermath of your words when your arms reach out to her. Joohyun tenses up for a seconds before your embrace reaches her, caresses her back and finds rest on her butt. With ease, you pick the petite idol up and Joohyun's legs instinctively wrap around you.

You kiss her gently, lovingly. "Still tensing up? I thought I trained it out of you?" you tease.

She blushes. "It's been a long time, Ma—"

"Shh, not yet. There will be time for that. I need my lover right now, not my toy."

A soft smile on her face. One in a million, quite literally: days and weeks and months go by where she can never feel like this around someone else. They all make her put on the cold, reserved, distant smile, but with you finally by her side, she melts.

At least the temperature of her palms cupping your face is able to melt ice in seconds. Joohyun leans close to you and presses her lips on yours, her passion coming over you in a quiet explosion. A tad bit quicker, a little more tongue when she parts your lips, now you pull her in closer.

"God, I've missed this," she coos and you brush away her astray hair.

"I have been busy... the young ones are quite—"

"Difficult? Always have been. Think of me back then."

You can't help but smile at the memories, though they also make your cock twitch against its cotton prison. Joohyun giggles. She must feel it poking her exposed midriff.

"Those were fun times, but you know I'm still as tight as ever, only with more experience now. I promise I'll take away all of your stress today."

"I know you will. That's why you know of this place. It's a short list, Irene."

She smiles happily and melts her lips into yours once more.

With her secured around you, you wander off, straight to the bedroom, careful not to bump into anything on your way. There are easily a hundred idols you'd just violently throw onto a bed like this and then destroy their tight pussies, but with Joohyun you remain careful for now. Lay her down on it, never disconnecting your lips.

Joohyun starts to undress immediately and instead of following suit, you decide to watch her. Many months ago was the last time you've seen her bare body—at least in real life, up close. There are dozens of videos you've filmed with her and she even sent nudes last month, a rarity for the outwardly timid idol.

"You're skin," you groan and reach for her bare tummy, then breasts. "Still porcelain, still smooth and perfect."

"Th-thank you. I made sure it's perfect, just for you."

"Not for the fans, not for the members? Not for your own self-gratification?"

"Only for you, my Master."

There she goes.

"Music to my ears. Hearing such obedience. It's rare to find that nowadays, I wonder if my methods are getting stale?"

You muse, but she knew it was your way of asking for her opinion, her advice. Bae Joohyun was an intelligent woman and admirable leader after all, and she knew all the tricks in the outside idol world and in your bedroom.

"Are you concerned about the outcome, even with all your leverage? Or is it getting too boring for you?" Before Joohyun can continue, you rub in between her legs, over her modest panties to find a little bit of wetness there. Joohyun opens her mouth; no moan, no breath, she just sinks into the sheets. "I-I just don't see the problem."

"They are just so damn cocky and continue to be. Disobedience, arrogance, self-centeredness, it's all running rampant nowadays."

"We weren't any better back then."

Press a finger onto her pussy lips, the fabric disappearing a bit into the increasingly aroused hole.

"Oh, you think so?"

"Ye-yes, Master. Suzy, IU, Jennie, even I—we were all a lot of trouble for you. I remember the reeducation training with Jessica and Nana. Maybe some things never change—ah, fuck."

Joohyun moans when your tongue trails along the side of her body, up to her collarbone where you place kisses. She is now trapped underneath you and with all your experience and ease, you join her in her (almost) nude state.

Instead of your finger you place a knee on Joohyun's covered heat and she instinctively grinds on it and loses herself in needy, desperate, good girl whines. She starts to pout and you rake your fingers through her hair like—

"Like in good old times." Your deep groan fills Joohyun with love.

"Yes, Master."

"You know how to grind on this knee. You know how to make yourself look submissive. You know how to combust into nothing but bliss when I just command you too.

"Don't you, Irene?"

"Y-yes, Master! You're so good to me."

Joohyun hesitates and whimpers for a moment, looking at you.

"Master… call me Joohyun please. Irene is for everybody else, but I am Joohyun and I am yours, my Master. Your whore, your slave."

The shortlist came with perks. She could make such requests of you.

"Jennie was one of the worst, but she is one of my biggest sluts, so I guess it only makes sense." You think out loud.

"Joohyun, is it true Red Velvet will have their last comeback soon?"

She can only nod and hum.

"I'll have to fuck you after then too… to breed you."

Her eyes widen and you feel a great dampness in her folds.

"Master, it will finally be my turn?"

"We've discussed this before."

"I-I know… but I said you could breed me before then. You know I would give up my career for you, Master. I only wish to be your cumdump."

There she goes, melting into a shape you have foreseen years ago. Of course she has been ready for it, but the time is right right now.

"Good girl."

You pull aside her panties and give her pussy lips tiny smacks. Joohyun starts to mewl and whimper in this perfect pitch, the pitch only your hand can make her reach.

"M-Master, hng!"

"This hole is ready to be bred." Indeed, you find it to be exceptional compared to even to your best youngsters, perfect, especially the wetness is extraordinary. "Now spread your legs and tell me how much you need it."

"Master, I've needed it since I underwent your training. I didn't allow any man to touch me but you, Master. I am pure. I-I stopped any form of contraceptive. I've been waiting. I'm ready to walk away from being an idol because all I want is you, Master. I see comments online, I know people call me Mommy because of my age and looks, but the only Mommy I want to be is for your child, Master. Breed me please. I am your good girl. I always have been. This whore, this slut, needs her Master to complete my training, to make me your breeding bitch."

You deem these words to be enough, excessive even. There was no need for all of them to be said out loud, you could clearly see it in her eyes, the wanton desire for your cock creaming inside her. Some people might call it cruel to her, but the last person to call it cruel is Joohyun herself.

You penetrate her gracefully, something she has not experienced ever. There was always a need to destroy her pussy; after all, Joohyun was once a defiant bitch. Nothing of this is left as she ecstatically welcomes you inside, dopamine flushing her brain, passion in the way she moans, laughs when you bottom out.

"Daddy!"

"Squeeze tight, Joohyun. I need you to make me cum as often as you can and keep it all down, so you better be the tightest girl ever tonight."

"I'm Daddy's tight girl, just breed me and I'll not lose any of your seed."

"Stick your tongue out."

Joohyun does as told and you let some of your saliva spill out onto your tongue before it oozes down to her. You always found her cock drunk expression thrilling, this one probably being its greatest form when you start to thrust into her as she still tries to catch your gift.

She pouts, as your saliva misses her just a bit and drips on her body.

"If they saw you now—Irene, everyone's ice queen—reduced to nothing but my personal whore, a Daddy and Master kink too? Some people think you're a bitch in how you behave and treat others. They are right in a way, aren't they darling?

“You are my bitch.”

"Ma-Master, you are right," Joohyun moans, her response interrupted by ragged breaths. "I-I'm your bitch, a bitch in heat. Do-do you like the hot pussy of this ice slave?"

Has she always been this humorous? A circle around her clit, just a rub, and her eyes are wide open. Joohyun looks so different in bed, a different kind of gorgeous from her stage presence during songs with the velvet-concept. You appreciate both, but this is clearly your favorite.

"Good that it's still tight," you groan and pound her harder. "I bottomed out a thousand times and still your grip is... fuck."

"Yes, Master, please praise my pussy more!"

"Isn't this enough praise, bitch?" you say in rhythm to slower but significantly harder thrust, the type to make inexperienced girls limp and screaming. Not Joohyun, she takes it well, though her voice still breaks at the rough pleasure forced upon her needy sex.

Joohyun stretches her arms out, holds onto the frame of the bed while you force her feet further apart and higher in the air. She looks stupid, an embarrassing position for an idol of her class to be in.

"Yes, Master!" she suddenly howls when your finger presses into the flesh of her thighs. "I don't want to dance anymore, make me unable to dance!"

"When I'm fucking done with you, don't even think about getting out of bed." You lean down to her sweaty, burning face and nibble at her jaw. "Don't move on your own before I've filled your entire womb!"

"Yes, Master.” Joohyun struggles to catch her breath, her words somewhere up in the air along with your face deliberately drooling down on her. “It's time isn't it? Please make me pregnant. I've been waiting for so long, Master, I've been patient and good—"

"In due time, Joohyun, but you will take it all the way in your womb until you're dripping and spilling seed everywhere. One day.” Your promise is sincere, partially because Joohyun’s rippling pussy has your voice a bit strained. Rejecting her would be pointless, really, her pussy could just will you in and if she’s really not taking contraceptives—

“I've heard your contracts are up in the air. Are you really going to throw it all away for your Master?"

Joohyun puckers her lips for you to kiss, barely able to squeeze out words through them and her forced out moans.

"Yes, M-Master! I don't care about the contracts, I only want your child."

"Then show me that cute little face," you say, teasingly leaning down to her lips searching for yours but not getting them. "The one you make when you cum on my cock like the good slut I trained you to be."

Joohyun is almost at that point of peak devotion, where she can almost will herself to an orgasm just from your command, but it's still too many almosts. You still have to lay a hand on her clit, the other on her waist and move both your hips and hands in quick, stimulating fashion until Joohyun squeaks like it's her first time in your bedroom.

The night you tamed her, many, many moons ago, was a great achievement, because you know she would still be drop dead gorgeous when you decide to do this to her. Without giving Joohyun any signs of your imminent orgasm, you cream her the moment the pleasure over takes her.

Her cute expression of bliss and submission to your superior frame is flooded with ecstasy and pride when you flood her cavern and womb with a thick load that is meant to stick inside her and eventually form a baby. Joohyun frantically holds onto your arms stabilizing her ever twitching body, her glassy eyes looking at you in reverence and servility.

"Th-thank you, Master," she whispers, her face and chest flushed with happiness, both a bit puffed from pride and soreness as her walls still milk you. "It feels so warm."

"I know what you're feeling," you coo into her ear and feel her burn up even more. "Finally, no condom, no contraceptive, nothing blocking my seed from blooming in your tight tummy. Every orgasm before this pales in comparison, because this one was real.

"So I'm giving you more."

"Ma-Master, I don't deserv—ahh!"

You put every vampire to shame when you furiously bite down on a pale sweet spot between Joohyun's neck and shoulder. Unlike vampires however, the faint taste of blood pulls you back to reality, that it's better to just fuck Joohyun's cum-filled cunt deeper than getting your teeth into her deeper. Nonetheless, the euphoric girl has both arms around you and tightly clings to you.

"Ma-Master," she cries out. "I ca-can't take it any-anymore."

"Don't care," you growl, empathy foreign to you. "I don't care if your pretty feet or legs or hips go numb. You'll take my cock until I want to stop."

You glare at her, eyelids hiding sniveling, tears begging for mercy as once again, overstimulation breaks her. What a weakness to still have. It’s part of Joohyun, sure, but you thought she would’ve grown past it, especially for this moment.

"You wanted this Joohyun. You wanted Master to breed you. You begged for it, don't you fucking bitch to me now. Did I make a mistake in choosing you? Are you really ready to give up your idol career if you can't handle me like this?"

Every word sliced into her. It's been ages since you broke her down like this, not just physically and sexually, but verbally. It was like she was your trainee all over again, a dominant, crushing hand on her throat, an unrelenting pelvis crashing down on hers.

"I will fuck you for however long I want..."

You pause for a moment and choke her even harder.

"Suzy can take it. Why can't you?"

"I can, Daddy!” Joohyun screams, finally fighting for herself against herself. “Make me a baby mommy, don't listen to my stupid mouth. You, you own this pussy!"

Feel Joohyun's pussy struggle to take all the cock and cum when you fold her to a painful degree and watch her face become just a canvas for tears. It's also red, like her bleeding shoulder or her round butt which you spank over and over again, red like her sore pussy lips or her insides.

"Good thing that you're still tight," you scold Joohyun and spit at her face. "At least your pussy is trying to make your real dream come true."

"Master, I'm cumming."

"Shut up. I don’t care. Put your own fingers around your throat. Spread your pussy lips. Look at me, while I destroy you.

"While I end your career, Irene."

A second load, pumped and mixed into the first and ultimately overflowing from Joohyun's gaping hole. The moment you pull out, she knows that this will be it. She is going to be pregnant, no way around it.

You gently cup her face, look at an expression of bewilderment, hurt, happiness, sadness, pain, confusion. Not the first time that you've destroyed a young woman like this while making her pregnant. A kiss to ease the pain a bit, she thinks, but it's just a set up for a reality check.

"I'm a bit disappointed," you tell her. "I needed your full devotion, but it seems you have forgotten how to take a second load.

"That said, I don't regret it. You're beautiful and ready. I think your group deserves one more comeback, then you can tell them what happened."

"Th-thank you, Daddy."

"You can stop choking yourself, by the way."

"Yes, Daddy. I-I love you."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #male reader smut #red velvet smut #irene smut #bae joohyun smut #joohyun smut #red velvet irene smut

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honestsycrets · 7 months

Text

playing house | single parent au: mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader

❛ pairing | mechanic!miguel x teacher!reader; single parents au

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | gabi's on a hunt to get a mami. miguel doesn't really need help with it. or, Miguel trades mechanic work for love.

❛ tags | explicit, mechanic!miguel, first grade teacher!reader, some mention of hurt, heavy themes of voyeurism (both ways), single parents, unhygienic sxconditions, Spanish not translated, very domestic fic, f!reader, protective miguel, very light mutual jealousy.

❛ request fulfilled | Miguel is a single dad, Reader is his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and he is both very obviously crushing on her and very reluctant to say it. Fortunately, his daughter isn't! "Did you know my papi likes you?" Cue flustered Miguel. + BROOOO mechanic!miguel is hot please tell

❛ sy's notes | flashback to that one time a car fell on my tio. 😅

The job was a simple part replacement. A fizzled-out chunk of metal that would cost any single mother more in labor and puff costs at any mechanic shop. But not with Miguel, who was known around the barrio for his begrudging care. He’d do any job Lyla brought to him for any madre around who needed him.

He wrung his hands out on his stained top and lifted his head out of the hood of an old but faithful car. After a click and a lock, he turned his eyes toward the dusty cover. Syncopated beats trill from a radio ring background static that he’s long since zoned out to focus on his work. He wiped his forehead and looked at the trampled grass underneath a cheap plastic pool.

“Gabriella, bring me the manguera,” he called out to his little girl, who looked at the hose in her little pool bobbing with poppy bright toys. The older she got, the worse her loneliness became. Not due to any ill-doing of Miguel who always tried his best to be present. For some reason, Miguel couldn’t bring himself to date in anything but short bursts.

“Papi, look across the street. New neighbors!” Gabriella cooed delightfully. She splashed out of the pool with the long emerald green hose in hand, bobbing over on her long skinny legs. “It’s a girl. A pretty girl! And she’s looking right at you!”

Like that was a new occurrence. Miguel turned his hand over his sun-bright daughter’s short, sodden braids that whipped just over her shoulder. She stood in place, bouncing delightfully over newcomers. There were many viejitos in the cul-de-sac, but not enough kids.

“¿Y qué, mi vida?” he asked her. His hand shipped free from her hair. “She’s probably taking in the barrio.”

“I think she is! You!”

He threw a glance over his shoulder only to find your prying eyes eating him up from across the street. You speak to a pair of movers-- but your eyes slipped away from theirs, where he stood with his little girl. The hose dumped water onto the street. Water that he’d usually be extra concerned about wasting. Today, he was more interested in a game.

His dirty white t-shirt is matted to his back, soaked in the sweat of the day. He gripped the bottom of his t-shirt on either side and tugged it over his head. It pulls on his well-corded arms, protesting its release from his body. Miguel slipped it over his shoulder and proceeded to release bits of sweat from his thick hair. An adorable gasp fell free from your lips, replaced by your hand over your lush lips, snapping back to attention.

“You’re right, Gabi.”

He took the sputtering hose from her and cracked a begrudging smile. Gabriella waved eagerly-- and to his surprise, you waved back. If it wasn’t the hot sun beating down your face, it was the embarrassment on your face. You settled the sunglasses on the cute crook of your nose. With that, Gabriella helps him wash the car until her most hated part, drying it with old towels and bits of Miguel’s ripped old shirts.

“Hola!”

“Coño,” Miguel cursed in surprise, turning around to face you. In your hand was a clear plastic bag stuffed full of the filled corn husks, warmth steamed its sides. Miguel glanced down at the bag in your comparatively soft hands, drawing his sweaty shirt over his cut muscles to wipe away the sweat that slicked his dusky skin.

“I brought you and your lindita tamales.”

“Tamales!” Gabriella cooed, her hands cradling a limonada. They made it together, like clockwork every Sunday. “I love tamales!”

“Don’t old neighbors bring new one’s food?” Miguel bit out, a bit annoyed. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate food, it would save him countless bright-ass early meals dragging himself out of bed to make Gabriella something with school right around the corner. He’s annoyed at that star-bright smile you have whipped across your face. It stirred excitement he thought he killed a long time ago. “Or are you just a show-off?”

“I teach first grade at the school across the street,” you ignored his snark and looked none the more bothered by it. There’s some magic in a woman that didn’t feed into his shit. You provided Miguel with a name that felt familiar to all the orientation packets he received just this week. “Ya tú sabes, umm, at Carillo’s.”

Of course.

“That’s where I go!” Gabriella beams. “I’m Gabriella O’Hara and I’m going to be in first grade, right papi? This is my papi. His name is Miguel.”

Damn it all. Miguel slaps his sweaty shirt on the top of the car. You kneel down, offering her up the tamales instead of Miguel. He blinks through his sudden irritation, realizing that he’s fucked now. Gabriella grabs the plastic bag, giggling delightfully over them.

“Then maybe you’ll be in my class, Miss O’Hara.”

When he checks her orientation paperwork-- there it is. He suddenly felt the pressure of the ordeal, of the pretty next-door neighbor who wore flowy dresses and apparently, loved muscles. His eye darted out to the window, the movers zipping off in a whir of color, leaving you just there, spinning around in the driveway of your new home, nearly too sun-bright.

Maybe it’s tied to being a father, but Miguel notices little things you do. Some are ineffectual. Others are dangerous. You leave your bedroom window wide open as you change. Miguel sat outside on Gabriella’s swing on his second cup of coffee for the day when he noticed it for the first time.

You come in from your shower and scurry about your room nearly naked. Then, cupping your breasts between your hands, you whirled around for a set of underwear. From this far, he can’t quite make out the color. It might be red. Not a poppy red, but a deep, soothing red he recognizes from his dead wife’s wardrobe.

He wasn’t sure why you wouldn’t just change in the bathroom, but in any case, it was… dangerous. Any freak walking by could see you changing. Mimi’s room had very well-used blinds and yours did not. He turns his attention back to the newspaper on his lap. Nueva York stalker confesses to stabbing murder in five-year-old cold case. He scrunched his nose at the news and drank a coffee that had long since gone cold.

Sometime later, your front door swung open. Mimi busted through, a little girl with long black twists and black eyes that held a similar excitement for the weekend. It was her papi time. Gabriella doesn’t have that luxury, two homes full of warmth. Just one, with a papi who loved her more than life itself. Miguel hopes it’s enough. He left his newspaper on the bench as you settled her in the car, making his jog across the street.

“You should buy blinds,” Miguel said the second you shut the door. You jumped, your hand on the locket on your chest.

“Ay dios, it’s just you. You shouldn’t walk up on a woman like that, Miguel,” you laughed. “Especially not a single mother.”

“You’re painfully oblivious. Buy some blinds for your room. It isn’t safe.”

Dry as his tone was, it was laced with concern. If there was no one in your life to tell you what he thought was obvious, he would. “You saw me? How much did you... see?”

He responds with a dull stare, his gaze falling to the red strap of your bra that set slightly off-kilter along your slight shoulders. You sucked in a breath to calm yourself, your heart beating at a rapid pace behind your modest shirt. You reached up to hide the strap. A frown marred his contrite features.

“You look beautiful in red,” he found himself muttering, pushing off of the back of the car without another word. He beat himself up for that-- stupid, stupid response. Because of course you know you look gorgeous. He didn’t need to say it out loud.

“Gracias, papi,” you called after him.

He hoped he was not flung into the creep category after that winning display.

You bought blinds for your window and a swing for Mimi’s new, sturdy tree. Its long arms offer some reprieve from the heat, casting a shadow on the small house. It wasn't long before you spent days on heaps of homework from the kids and a glitter-bright pen to grade spelling tests.

It's nice to have a little bit of company as he works on cars and yard work, even if you watch him like a voyeur, blushing if he notices, gasping if he plays into this new little game. At some point, he voided his shirts altogether. It’s not long before Gabriella has a game of her own to play.

“Psst, Lyla. Vente, Lyla.”

Gabriella sits boredly in the shop after school. Sometimes in his office, other times in the shop during breaks. One of his technicians, Lyla, sat on an upside-down bucket by Miguel’s side as he worked on a car. This time, it was a stupid simple fix. The idiot ripped off their bumper parking too far on a curb. Lyla sat in gold coveralls, undoubtedly grinning behind that black mask slapped across her face. He didn’t need to look away from the clips he was applying to know they were both up to shit.

“Yeah?”

“Papi has a crush on my teacher. I think she could be my new mami. If--”

“Miguel has a crush?” His other tech, Peter chirped up with a hunk of sandwich in his fingertips. How was he always slacking off and eating? Miguel didn't know, but he was. “I can't believe it. He hasn’t had a crush since Tem--”

“I don’t have a crush,” Miguel responded. “Less scheming, more homework, kid. She told me you’re behind on schoolwork.”

She does so well on spelling tests, Miguel, you told him at parent-teacher conferences. But she never turns in homework.

Gabriella was not behind because she was stupid. She was behind because she was a stubborn little child who, Miguel knew, was trying to set him up. Lyla abandoned the bucket to walk over near Gabriella’s unicorn table, pulling out a microsized table and looking down at the stupid simple homework. Single-digit numbers were a painful waste of time to a kid who loved math.

“She’s single?”

“Yup,” Gabi chirped, scratching away at her coloring page with a fat purple crayon. “Mimi told me.”

“No boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend. I double-checked. And get this, she said she would come help me with homework.”

“Lyla.” Miguel shoved the opposite end of the bumper in place, securing it carefully. Lyla was bent down by Gabriella. So Papi has more time to see her! Gabriella whispered. He may not know what you’re saying, but he knows it’s bad by the way she looks at him. As though she were a cat might with a glass it was about to shatter on the floor. “You can go home now.”

His daughter doesn’t need any more of her devilish attributes.

“You fucked it alright, mujer. What did you hit?”

Miguel twisted a bit of the sidewall between his fingers to gauge the depth of the hole. Never mind that the back passenger wheel whistled away until it ran flat. It wasn’t the first time someone brought him a car that was fucked. It was the first time you had.

You never asked him for anything, not at the price of your pride. You simply… made it work. Just like Miguel made childcare work by leaving his shop to pick Gabriella up and leaving her bored as fuck every weekday until he could close up shop.

Today, Mimi and Gabriella were inside, playing with dolls after a warm dinner of arroz blanco and fatty pork chops. He wasn’t much a fan of your sickly sweet platano, but he tried it tonight after Gabriella hounded him. Don’t be rude, papi! He’s gotten used to coming home on Wednesday to dinner. It’s something that he realizes he’s missed: having someone to come home to.

“A pothole,” you murmured shyly. His forehead rippled into wrinkles, holding the chunk of broken-off rubber between his fingertips. He rubbed the exhaustion out of his dark eyes, minding the nervous twiddling of your fingers.

“A pothole,” he repeated after you. No matter how many times he considered it, it did not fit. His body was ripe with aggravated energy. He’s too tired for this. The shit he’d seen in his shop and you expected him to believe that you hit-- a pothole? “Qué mierda.”

Miguel set his hands on his hip, rolled on his heel, and stepped back to inspect his future work. His body thrummed, a tightness pulling with the sight of your shy smile. The truth tittered on your luscious little lips.

“I may or may not have hit those rocks by Doña Díaz’s casita.” One look around the street revealed the chunky, pointy rocks you referenced. Miguel flicked the bit of rubber onto the top of the car and looked at you. You were guilty as the day was long. “They weren’t that far off the curb before! I know that it’s bad. Do you think you could-- fix it?”

“You’re going to have to replace those two,” Miguel gestured. “What, did you not see the massive rocks on the side of the road? What were you doing? Eres una mama, you have to pay attention, por dios. You could have been hurt.”

Your eyes darted to the wheels. The nervousness was strong, nearly all-consuming, bidding you to shut up. Though it was a good question, the shame that flecked your eyes was enough to cause Miguel to move on. He knew you were likely inattentive, your mind hovering somewhere else than the quiet cul-de-sac.

“I… had a bad date, Miguel. I was upset and dizzy and… Don’t tell anyone, please.”

The pain of being a woman. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his large hand warm on your slight shoulder. A pulse of warmth rushed through his hand as you leaned in, your cheek plastered to his stained top. He smelled of oil and sweat, but somehow, you find it comforting. Your hands come over his back, tugging on the dark coveralls.

“It’s alright,” Miguel sighed. He'd tell you not to pick shit men-- but sometimes, as he knew, that didn't matter at all. “I’ll have it fixed.”

“I don’t have that much money, Miguel,” you began. “I have to take care of the kids, my house, Mimi. I…”

“No te preocupes. You can do something else for me.”

You drew in a small, choked breath. The type that settled in your chest and did not leave. Not until Miguel’s arms wound over your waist to soothe you through the pain and pressed a kiss that lasted entirely too long to the top of your head. It’s the first time he wants another.

“She is dating,” Peter said. “You know what that means? It means you’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one!”

"I'm not concerned about it."

The one, Miguel shook his head as he paced past the car he was propping up. He never heard anything more ludicrous. There was no such thing as the one. There was only a range of possibilities to pick from. At any point, life can happen. Then your one is gone-- and you’re left with only the memories and a body to bury. Still, as he clambered underneath the car, he found that he quite didn’t like the thought of you out with anyone else... especially not men who may or may not spike your drink.

“You should ask her to a date. Like, more than playing house with sticky kids and lasagna.”

“She’s never made me lasagna.”

Peter sloppily suckled on his fingers, the juice running down his thin wrists. “Then what was lunch?”

“Pastelón,” he answers bitterly. “It’s… plantain lasagna.”

“Okay, I thought you didn’t like--”

“I don't-- I eat it because she spends time on it.”

Peter sucked in a breath, eyes wide. He’s about to say something terribly unuseful, something like how Miguel has it bad. Miguel knows he does, half-formed images of what a family could be every day he went to pick Gabriella up, homework done, and happily fed. A feat in itself.

In place of that, though, were the car’s melded, mechanical squeals. He has but a moment and a half-formed plan that goes up in smoke the next second that it falls on his arm. He hears Peter’s half-formed, panicked shout to Lyla and recalls the flurry of steps and medical attention sometime later.

Admittedly, he did tell you to be careful.

When he wakes up, so does everyone else. Lyla chastizes him with her hands balled up on her hips, Peter sobs almost twice as much as Gabriella does until the two are dead asleep against his bed. Miguel’s eyes have rolled way too far.

“Is he finally asleep?” you peep into his heavy hospital door with a ginger knock of your knuckles. Miguel throws a look at Peter’s squishy face, half slumped over.

“Hermosa, I thought he’d never stop,” he grumbled.

“You scared him.”

Tch. Miguel watched you pick up Gabriella, settling her on the stiff pull-out bed. He foggily asked you what time it was, close to the end of visiting hours. He’d need to arrange something for Gabi with Lyla taking care of the shop. It itched at his throat.

“Gabi too. Should I…”

“Take her home for me,” he grumbled. “I’ll be back tomorrow. It’s just a broken arm.”

“You coughed up blood, Miggy. You could have died if Peter wasn’t there.”

Miggy. You finally used the nickname somewhere between Wednesday dinner dates and a car slumping on him. Miguel throws a growl to the side, using his non-fucked hand to pet the top of Peter’s head. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

“What happens if… something happens to you?”

“With Gabi?” he asks.

"Sí. With everything."

You nod, looking idly at his little daughter, still in her school clothes. You brought her as soon as school was over, soothed the panic in her voice, the thought of becoming an orphan just because the car had cracked his arm. She wouldn’t have remembered her mother’s death, it was far too long ago now.

“Lyla. Why the face? If you’re jealous, know that was the agreement with my wife before she was murdered.”

You hadn’t known you were making a face, but you were to the trained eye. Some small pout of your lip, tears welling at the corner of your eyes. Miguel shoves himself up on the bed, straining sore muscles. It was going to be a long night. A longer month or two until he was up and running again.

“I’m not making a face. It's just... You were reckless when you're usually so careful. I'm wondering why. I'm sorry.”

"It's fine," Miguel urged you to come closer. "Come here."

You slid into his chair, tentatively sneaking your hand on top of his. Miguel wanted to tell you more. There was not another friend nearly so close, one that would take care of everything and anything he needed. He's suddenly aware of his situation. It would be difficult to make a woman secure that he'd not tied down yet. You clearly care-- based on the insecurity in your eyes.

You’re on a time crunch. She could always meet the one.

He doesn't want to miss his shot. He brought your hand to his lips, straining with a pained little grunt. You stood up to help him, allowing his lips to flutter over the back of your hand in a small kiss at his urging.

“Trust me. She’s not a threat,” he said. “You’ll take Gabi with you?”

“Of course, Miggy. Anything you need.”

Securing a relationship would just have to wait.

The first day back, Miguel sent Gabriella off with Lyla. Mimi is off with her papa, leaving you with nothing but time. He finally saw his projects through without Peter loitering over his shoulder, revitalizing cars with bad radiators and fizzled-out air compressors. As if Peter was the boss and he were the employee. The grease under his fingers feels more like Miguel than any squeaky clean shower you’ve helped him take. Yes, you’ve helped him take. He could have asked Lyla or Peter, but why over-extend their lives when you lived in his home for the past month to take care of Gabriella anyway?

He wonders what you thought, stripping him down to nothing, seeing his naked thighs, watching him clean sensitive bits that, as you lied, you were not looking at. He finds it cute, the way you tried to look away, but of course-- you always snuck a look. You’re nosy by nature. He’s never been ashamed of his body, though. For all the work you did, he thinks you deserve a look.

“Miggy,” you slipped through the side door, your heels clicking over a greased-up floor. He hopes you don’t fall, arms deep in the hood of a shiny dark blue convertible. It’s nearly perfect. “I got your message. You said we need to talk?”

“Don’t slip.”

Miguel whirled a wrench into its place, slammed the hood shut, and rubbed the grease on his hands together. Like it will come off his callouses. Miguel meets you half way, offering you his greased up hand. You look down at his hand, then up to Miguel again. He half thinks you won’t take it, but you do, allowing him to whirl you in a spin before lifting you on top od the hood of the car.

“Ay Miggy--” you cursed, looking down at the car. It shone bright, its smooth metal cold under your bare thighs. He pins you in place as you attempt to wiggle off, nearly jiggling your way onto his lap. “The owner will be mad--”

“It’s mine and I’m not.” He explains. “I know what I want.”

“You want…?”

“For the work on your car.” It’s cute how clueless you act, holding your breath as his fingers course past your bare thighs. You barely manage to choke the words out, your hands inching on his. He replaces himself between your thighs. You both know that you more than made up for the few hundred dollars in repairs with the work you’d done for him in a month. Holding your breath, you nod.

“Tell me.”

“I want a night with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, leaning your trembling fingers up to the bits of dark brown hair that accentuated the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes. You met his eyes, trained on your own, challenging you to respond. Words formed in a mishmash of nonsense on your tongue. You take the chance to press your lips on his, your hand suddenly cradling the side of his face for some stability. You were hardly comfortable on his car, but Miguel didn’t seem to care, biding your lower lip to open and let him in. You relinquish, savoring the distant taste of roasted coffee on his tongue, his fingers teasing along your thighs.

“That’s not an answer,” Miguel pulled back from your lips for an instant. He graces your neck with soft kisses, leaving the occasional bite and tug just in case-- he doesn’t need another man thinking he has so much as a chance. Your big man pins you down onto the car like you were weightless, any willingness to inch away tempered by his mass.

“Depends,” you answered. “I want this to be an every night kind of thing.”

“Consider it a trade.” He chuckled against your neck, the heat from his lips traveled across the valley of your breasts. You complied with his desire and let him slip your breasts free from your romper. His mouth closed his mouth over your nipple. His greasy hands melded your breasts between his desperate hands, tongue prodding your nipple fat. Your legs met his hungry performance by pulling him forward, his scratchy belt against your clothed cunt.

“Careful,” he teased. His hand fell to his bulge, unbuttoning his stained pants. You watched him pull himself free, pulling panties and romper alike to the side of your lips. Your lips parted, much like that very first day you met him, sundered by the sight of his cock. This time, fully hard. He doesn’t enter your cunt-- no, he’s patient, slotting himself between your folds for a teasing grind. His dick twitched in response, eager to finally fuck you. “You’ll fall off.”

“It’s your fault. You could have asked over dinner.” He greets your complaint with a nod, flicking your other breast. He envelops the other nipple between his mouth, his teeth grazing along the sensitive skin. You take a long breath, hips leaning up against his firm length.

“Like that would be anything new. We always have dinner,” Miguel murmured in protest. “A far better use of our time is soaking your pretty cunt with my cum on this car before dinner.”

He felt your cunt clench at nothing. His hips, thrusting against your mound, nudged over your wet little folds, knocked against your greedy clit. Before you could respond, Miguel popped off your nipple again, “You like that thought? Going to dinner leaking?”

“Miggy, por dios,” you complained. “Stop dry humping and give it to me.”

He huffed darkly, snatching one of your thighs and leaning back. He spreads your lips, inspecting his work. You were wet, but not just wet, soaking his car. Miguel brought his other palm to wipe your wetness away, jerking himself with the fluid. He tests your reaction by nudging the head of his cock against your unprepared hole.

“Miguel,” you bit out, this time a warning.

“Ya te oigo,” Miguel loomed over you, pinning your shoulder back to his glistening car. You don’t debate him on that, allowing him to say whatever he wants if it would just get him inside. Miguel relinquishes control, pushing inside of your tightness. He bit back a groan, pushing past your body’s resistance, throbbing against your core. Your hands fisted his dirty shirt, cunt split wide on his cock, and glad for it.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his hands securing themselves on your hips. He gives you a moment to catch your breath before he pulls nearly free, slamming forth just a moment later. Breath punched out of your throat, his cock rocking your cunt nice and full. You loved this-- looking beautiful and full just for him. He knew it too, “Hermosa.”

Miguel held his arm tight around your thigh, holding you flush against his rutting hips. His balls slapped your ass, pulling tight. You were distantly aware of his thumb at your clit, leaning your hips into his thrusts the best you could. You could only squirm to keep yourself upright on his car despite feeling your body sliding into his. His thumb worked in insistent, tight circles, forcing the pleasure to burrow in your low belly, tightening over him. It’s no marker of your performance, you think, hoping he’d give you another chance to be anything but a toy on his cock.

“No, no puedo--” you whined, your hands dipping under his shirt to scratch at his finely cut muscles, knowing you were about to gush.

“Do it,” Miguel grunts in response, his thumb more insistent. You’re not entirely proud of the way you came, creaming his cock desperately. He held strong, smothering his own groans if only for the pleasure of hearing your passionate cries. You come to moments after, Miguel’s thrusts now intent on his own pleasure.

“Come on, papi,” you worshipped. “Cum in me.”

“Fuck,” Miguel complied, his dirty nails causing sharp indentions on your thigh and hip. His sticky cum fills you in a few deep thrusts, each more forceful than the last, and he’s spent. If he was dirty before, he was filthy now. Miguel catches your lips in a lingering kiss, going soft in your body. He knew the second he pulled out your cum was soaking his now-dented car.

His eyes peeled open to find your gaze on him, tracing fresh superficial scratches on his belly. Of course, you are-- you’re a hungry addict. Miguel pulled himself free and looked for a cloth that wasn’t grease soaked to clean your cunt with. You piece yourself together and slide off his car.

“Let’s go.”

“¿Qué?” he zips himself back into his pants.

“You promised me dinner.”

He sighs-- just as long as it wasn’t lasagna.

There’s something attractive about your love of children.

He thinks it’s likely because he’s never had that himself. His mother was a beast of a woman. Never affectionate. At least, not with him. After his wife’s subsequent death, life proceeded in a vacuum. The years passed: first one. Then six. Then he was here, holding a bundle of jewel-bright roses against an uncharacteristically clean button-up, walking down the dull blue carpet of the beige hallway to the pod that usually held the kids. For all the days you tolerated him smeared and slathered, you deserved a good display.

They were usually alight with noise, rambling on about their latest toy or prattling on about a mommy that Gabriella just did not have. The more she grew, the more important it became to have that for her-- maybe it was more for himself. Today, that hall was dead of life.

“Gabi, I hear your papi,” you called from somewhere inside. He hears her subsequent pitter-patter of feet across the carpet, popping out with Mimi from the door before he can open it. Miguel cocked his head, a sigh working on his lips. They whirled the door shut. Gabi bolted to your would-be desk and slapped her tanned palms on the tabletop.

“Maestra, maestra!”

Ah, damn it all. Miguel’s hand hovers around the knob, chewing on the next thought. He couldn’t really blame the kid for what she was about to say, because he knew exactly what she was about to do.

“¿Mande?”

“I have something to tell you, it’s really important. Papi likes you, did you know my papi really, really likes you?”

There’s a pause. Then a slight, amused giggle from Mimi. It’s short-lived as he pulls open the door, loathing this dumb thing called Teacher’s Week that leaves him with a bundle of flowers and instant regret.

“Sí, Gabriella. I know he does. I like him too. He’s so cute.”

If he weren’t so dark, he’d worry about the flush in his face with the embarrassment of being outed by his little girl. He stares at your hands on Gabriella’s, then at the small sea of desks and colorful name tags to break some of the tension, hardening his face to shield it from the embarrassment. Was he really so obvious?

“Hola Miggy.”

You scoot out of your chair.

“Hola,” he sighs, remembering he was holding flowers. He slides them into your hands, hooking his hands on his slender hips. “This is… Gabi wanted to give you flowers.”

“I never said that,” she chirped, bouncing his way. “You said--”

“Gabriella.” Miguel hisses, his tone sharp at her interjection. She goes dead silent by Mimi's side, staring up at him with watery eyes. He jerks his head in the direction of the quartet of desks she sits at. “Go get your things.”

“I think Papi is embarrassed,” you whisper, crouching down to rub her little back, soothing down her milky white top. “I’ll talk to him and make it better, okay? Go with Mimi.”

“Okay.”

Mimi bounded off behind Gabi, stuffing her bag with her colorful work and chunky crayons. Miguel exhaled air, staring at her powdery blue backpack for something other than the complete and utter embarrassment that yet someone else had called him out. If it wasn't Peter, it was his daughter.

Had he been this obvious the whole time?

“Don’t be too hard on her tonight,” He peered down at you, small in the grand scheme of his height and musculature. You pecked a small kiss on his lips, stroking his week-old stubble, just enough to cool Miguel’s teetering nerves. “It’ll be better when she finds out.”

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