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isuckatwritingsobenice · 3 months

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𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin demon #alastor #Alastor and vox #Hazbin hotel #helluva boss vox #hazbin hotel rosie #hazbin valentino #charlie morningstar #hazbin niffty

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cordeliawhohung · 3 months

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simon wants you to ride him. you're a little self conscious. he has the perfect solution.

mafia!141

When Simon admitted to you how badly he wanted you to ride him, so many thoughts flooded your mind you were left torn. You wanted to do it, wanted to please him, yet some malevolent pit of anxiety ate away at the back of your mind. You weren't very experienced when it came to things like that, and the idea of Simon staring up at you as you clumsily attempted to fuck him nearly made you cringe. It made you feel stupid. Of course you knew he would never think anything insidious about you, yet your mind had a tendency to play tricks on you, no matter how wrong it was.

Simon's solution? Blindfold him.

It was a makeshift one; a balaclava that he flipped the bottom half up to cover his eyes, yet it was enough to get the job done. The only features of his face you were able to make out was the faint curve of his nose and the gentle parting of his lips as you straddled his hips. Simon was soft and careful as he helped guide himself into you, allowing you to lower yourself onto him with a soft sigh. There was something different about the angle he entered you at that had your thighs clenching around him so hard you swore they'd bruise.

"Easy," he prompted softly. Simon was always patient with you, always reminding you to take your time, but this time was a little different. His anticipation was obvious in the bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and the throbbing of his cock inside of you. Yet, his hands were soft and comforting against your waist as he rubbed his thumbs along your side as if to remind himself of your fragility. "Take it slow, yeah?"

So you did. Testing the waters, you rocked your hips forward in a circular motion, forcing his sensitive tip to grind against the rubbery barrier of your cervix. It felt strange to have him so deep, to split you so deliciously, and then to just stay there, filling you and keeping you full. Despite the blindfold, Simon was not helpless underneath you. His hips twitched upwards in reaction to the little stimulation you provided to him, prompting you to give him more.

Eventually you fell into a comfortable rhythm, and the crux of your ass slapped against the meat of his thighs each time your body crashed against his. His heart pounded away in his chest and you could feel the sensation ripple all the way through his body and to your hands which rested against his stomach to keep yourself steady. Thick corded muscles tensed in his tattooed arms as he began to assist you in bouncing on his length. He lifted you so high just to pull you back onto him it nearly knocked the breath out of you. Emptied just to be filled to the brim so suddenly, and over and over again.

"Fuck, you're so goddamn perfect," he groaned. Soon, your movement alone wasn't enough, and as he bounced you up and down like a doll, his hips began to thrust upwards to meet your body halfway, which sent a moan tumbling out of your mouth. "Doin' so well, treatin' me so good, fuckin' hell..."

At some point, you weren't even riding Simon any more. Between the way he held you by your hips, forcing you up and down on his cock, and thrusting up into you, he did all the work. You could feel all his want and desire pour into you like it usually did when you two fucked, but there was something missing. His eyes. Those beautiful eyes that always looked at you as if you held the world in the palm of your hands, that always devoured you in the kindest way possible.

You collapsed forward, breasts pressing against his chest as your lips collided with his where you ate up his groan. Sticky sweat clung to your body but you ignored it as your hands snaked up to his jaw and then to his cheeks underneath his makeshift blindfold. As you pulled out of the kiss, you carefully removed the mask from over Simon's eyes, revealing his dark, wanting gaze and his messy hair. He had a full view of you with your glistening skin and your dancing body. His eyes soaked up the way your body shook with every thrust, how your breasts bounced from the force, how your lips parted with your moans...

Simon came without warning. There was nothing he could do to hold back or even edge himself from the sight of you, and instead he pulled you down onto him one last time before you felt his warmth flood your cunt and legs twitch behind you. Panting, you allowed yourself to fall limp as you pressed your face into the side of his warm neck, and he returned the gesture in kind as he embraced you, keeping you close to him.

"Sorry," he said once he was able to catch his breath. "Didn't mean to... fuck, just seein' you like that, I couldn't... christ...."

Giggling, you kissed the soft tissue that rested in the crook of his neck before you nuzzled even closer to him, basking in the damp warmth of his body. A strange part of you buzzed at his words, at realizing that you had such an intimate hold over him. Where you had been anxious about the idea of him seeing you like that, so clumsy, he had come completely undone just at the sight of you. So you silenced his apologies with your mouth on his before you leaned back to get a look at his flushed face and messy hair.

"Don't apologize," you said sheepishly. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Smirking, Simon's hands gently came to rest on your hips. "Good."

Suddenly, your world spun as Simon twisted to the side, switching your positions so that you laid on your back underneath him. You squeaked at the whirling movement, something he didn't acknowledge as he began to press kisses against your neck with a hungry groan.

"What are you-?" you attempted to ask, but your question was cut off as Simon pressed his hand against your aching clit.

"What?" he asked, smirk evident in his tone. "You didn't think we were done just because I finished, did you?"

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod smut #mafia!simon #mafia!ghost #mafia!141 #f!reader

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victorluvsalice · 11 months

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-->Case in point, Alice dipping Victor and laying one on him without a care in the world right in the middle of the shop. XD I’d say “PDA to a minimum, you two,” but, well, I directed you to do it. XD

-->Anyway -- date meandered on, through the world’s worst fashion show and the townies utterly swarming the clothing racks, the fashion show, and the boba tea counter. The trio watched the latest townie make her mark with a rather basic bad outfit, then Smiler went outside to catch some locusts and get in some chess at the table in the nearby little park area while Victor -- after trying very unsuccessfully to actually ORDER some boba tea -- (first it wouldn’t let him do it at all, then it claimed there was no free counter space) -- just swiped an unclaimed Lychee Milk one and took it and Alice to one of the outside tables to decompress for a bit. The boba tea proved to be absolutely TERRIBLE at actually filling up his hunger need, though, and once he was done, they went back inside to watch more terrible fashion while he drank a Potion of Plentiful Needs. Now THAT hit the spot!

-->It was around this time that I realized “wait a second, this lot has a microphone -- why not let Smiler tell some jokes for the crowd?” And so that’s exactly what I did. Smiler’s audience was small -- just the owner of the place to start -- but she was appreciative, at least! Victor and Alice, meanwhile, started up a spontaneous slow dance in the corner in the final minutes of their date, awww. :) I had them end things with a dip kiss (thanks Cute Romance!), then head over to watch some of Smiler’s show while the timer ran out. Date ended in Gold status, and Victor and Alice successfully completed that tradition for Love Day!

-->. . .meaning now it was Victor and Smiler’s turn! XD I had Smiler kick things off by giving Victor a wild daisy (which he did NOT appreciate -- seriously, flowers, SO hit or miss), and then inviting him and Alice to another location, since ThrifTea had proved to be less than romantic. . .

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azullumi · 10 months

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“his habits during it” ; genshin men

warning — nsfw content ahead but nothing that graphic or explicit (seriously i tried my best to not even mention the word sex and the genitals)

summary — there’s one thing he loves to do whenever the two of you get in bed together.

characters — diluc, kazuha, ayato, kaveh, alhaitham, tighnari, cyno, zhongli, and wanderer (w/gender-neutral reader) ; no specified anatomy nor even mentioned parts

tags — kind of fluff, nsfw, not proof-read (wrote this while i was irritated and needed something to pour my attention to) ; headcanons

words — 1265

note — hey siri, how do you say they’re fucking without saying they’re fucking

handholding

DILUC — (i have already said this before) diluc likes, no, he loves the intimacy the simple act of holding one’s hand has even when two of you are just walking together side by side or when his skin is pressed against yours, lips colliding against one another, and he’s whispering words of affection to your ears—a mere distraction and a sense of comfort, grounding you and keeping you with him. it’s just that effortless gesture of intertwining his hand with yours, locking fingers, as he indulges in the way you feel around him. he squeezes your hand in the middle of it all and oh, how he melts so much when you also squeeze his own in return. he could never tell you how much you make him so soft and weak with just the slightest hold.

eye contact

KAZUHA — “don’t look away now,” he coos at you, seeing how you shy yourself and avert your gaze away from him which he obviously didn’t like. he likes seeing you coming undone while you try to remain eye contact with him—it pleases him seeing your features contort into into what you are currently feeling—, likes teasing you every time you try to look away from him and hide your expression, likes saying such remarks that gets you embarrassed most times just so he could see and watch the change of your expressions every single time. he just loves looking at you, adoring you with his eyes, especially more so when you also do the same and keep contact, gaze nailed on each other.

praises and talking dirty

AYATO — he’s a talker, both outside the matters in the bedroom and inside the sheets, so it’s no wonder that he always shower you with praises in every chance that he gets even if you’re not in the right mind to respond or even comprehend what he’s saying. he conveys most of his affections through the words that falls out of his lips, finding it so easy to say such things and teasing you with it, he can’t help it, can he? how could he not when you look so pretty—not only outside the bedroom—or beautiful, or handsome, or lovely, or anything that he could think of right at that moment when he sees you naked? Even if he had held and seen you with nothing to cover your skin so many times, he still gets mesmerized by the sight of you like it was his first time.

playing with your hair

KAVEH — he plays with it, he tugs on it, pulls on it, and everything. and though it gives him some sense of control especially when he pulls on it, it also grounds him and helps him realize the affection and love being shared between you two in this intimate moment. sometimes he only dances his fingers on your head, treating you softly and tenderly with the delicate hold of his hand on your hair, which could often provide a huge contrast to what he’s actually doing, the rough treatment he’s giving you which makes you roll your eyes and see spots in your vision. “you look so pretty like this, my love,” he would say before tugging your hair back to take a good look at your face or to tilt your head in a way that gives him more access to your neck.

lots of kisses

TIGHNARI — gently laying you down the bed? kisses you while doing so. sliding your clothes off your body? presses his lips against yours before trailing down, tracing your jaw, his mouth making its way down your neck, and resting on your collarbone. asking you consent? he kisses you before he speaks. he presses gentle kisses of adoration all over you as he pushes himself into you, your bodies becoming one in the process, providing comfort and easing you as he could feel your nails digging deep into his skin and possibly, leaving marks and wounds but he didn’t mind. his fondness and desire murmuring into you, helping you breath and regain yourself. it was clear that his way of affection was simply just kissing you.

giving orders

CYNO — he doesn’t always take the dominant position but perhaps it was the sense of authority, the power whenever he does it. he has the habit of giving orders and commands whenever you two are spending a passionate moment and seeing you willing to follow him ignites something in him—however, if you disobey him, then that’s a different matter altogether (it’s not like he hates it however. deep in him, he likes it as it gives him the pass to do more things but with your consent, of course). you’re so vulnerable, so obedient to him and it fuels his excitement further when you follow what he says. it makes him wonder, a question pondering his head, how could he have someone like you, someone as lovely and sweet as you, so good to him?

restriction / holding your hands together

ZHONGLI — no, it is not the act of locking your fingers with his as he pushes himself into you just like diluc, this one is completely different. he has big hands, we all know that zhongli’s hands are big and one of it just enough to bind both of your wrists together—he is well-aware of that fact and abuses it. he likes seeing you struggle, tugging your hand against his but his hold wouldn’t budge, at all. although zhongli hasn't explicitly told or mentioned it, he absolutely loves the way you look so helpless and weak whenever he holds your hands together, whenever he restricts your movement. oftentimes, he would have a silk ribbon—it has to be a silk ribbon—tying you up just so he could rest his hands on your hips and hold you.

hands always touching and roaming around your body

ALHAITHAM — he just loves to feel you, in general. he loves the softness of your skin underneath the tip of his fingers as he glides his hand all across your body, the warmth of you seething into his touch and being buried in his bones, and he is obsessed on the way he could feel the sweet trembles of your body underneath his hand, could sense the small shiver when he finally touches you, and he adores it and he doesn’t hesitate in conveying his affections to you, often accompanying his caresses with his words of praises and compliments. perhaps it overwhelms you, not knowing where to focus yourself on, and he loves seeing you in such a state, pushing you more and more further to the edge with his hands and mouth alone.

biting and leaving marks

WANDERER — the line between pain and pleasure soon blurs into one as he bites into you while, and one could say it serves as a distraction but it isn’t, it’s not even close to being a distraction, it’s simply something that adds to the stimulation that you are feeling, overwhelming and effectively bringing you into some sort of space. he takes joy in the sounds that you make once he buries his neck on the curve of your neck, hard but not hard enough to draw blood; he takes pride in seeing the bruises and marks that he left on you, looking at you like you were a work of art carved and sculpted into something more than perfection with his own hands.

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alliepsmithh · 5 months

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israel posted a video of them giving water bottles to palestinians on a beach, then destroyed their luggage and shot at them after they stopped recording.

israel posted a photo of one of their soldiers "assisting" with an elderly man, then they shot him twice in the back and killed him.

in 2015, the idf posted pr photos of an israeli soldier giving water to an elderly palestinian woman, only for them to execute her after the photo was taken.

in 2005, an idf soldier emptied his rifle into a 13-year-old palestinian schoolgirl. he said he would have done the same thing if she was 3-years-old. he was acquitted of all charged.

israel claimed that hamas beheaded 40 israeli babies and then a month later cut off power to a palestinian hospital where premature babies were on incubators.

israel bombed a group of children collecting rainwater.

israel shot and killed two palestinian children playing with their scooter.

israel shot a hard of hearing girl in the face with a stun grenade and broke her jaw.

israel is using bombs with blades that are designed to cause maximum damage to the person in range.

israel forced medical workers at al-Nasr medical center to leave babies in incubators in order to evacuate the hospital they were bombing.

israel turned off power to hospitals in palestine, forcing nurses and doctors to use their phone flashlights when treating patients.

israel raised their flag over Al Shifa hospital.

israel has blown up the chambers of the palestinian legislative council.

israel targeted a "suspicious vehicle containing several terrorists”, meanwhile the only people in the car were three girls, ages 10, 12, and 14, their grandmother, and their mother. the only survivor was the three girls' mother.

israel planted a copy of mein kampf in a children's bedroom in a gazan house they claim hamas was hiding in.

israel poured fake blood onto the floor of an israeli child's bedroom and claimed hamas killed them.

israeli soldiers posted a video of them dancing on gazan graves.

israel posted a video showing a calendar in a palestinian children's hospital was a hamas guard list because it was written in arabic.

israel was using white phosphorus on hospitals.

israel bombed a refugee camp.

israel has burned olive trees in palestine.

israel has put cement into the water supply of palestine.

israel claimed that they found tunnels under Al Shifa hospital, only for it to be exposed that those tunnels are actually in sweden.

israel built a bunker and command room under Al Shifa hospital in 1983, only for them to now say that they are hamas tunnels.

israeli police arrested an israeli high school teacher, who posted on facebook expressing sympathy with palestinian civilians who have been killed.

israeli soldiers filmed themselves throwing a stun grenade into a palestinian mosque.

we are witnessing a genocide in real time framed under the guise of stopping hamas. israel has been terrorizing palestine for as long as israel has existed, but their access to technology and social media has made it much easier to fool people into supporting them.

meanwhile, noah schnapp is posting that zionism is sexy and celebrities are standing with israel. just absolutely twisted shit.

edit: for those who would like sources, my twitter is alliiesmith. i have retweeted everything i’ve mentioned. i apologize for not providing this sooner

edit 2: i’ve had some people in the replies and reposts pointing out that linking my twitter seems like promotion. i just wanted to clear up that that was not my intention. i’ve been retweeting resources and news much faster than i’m able to add to this post, and i thought that my twitter profile could be something of a hub for information. i don’t care if you follow me, but i think scrolling through and seeing what i’ve retweeted could be helpful.

#*#allie talks #israel palestine conflict #israel #idf #palestine #gaza #west bank #politics #current events

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notherpuppet · 2 months

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I wrote the full parody to Ready For This in the Role Reversal AU because I wanted to lol.

Transcription below.

Ready For This (Role Reversal AU parody)

Alastor: Have you ever wanted something That was so clear in your mind that you could taste it?  Susan: You mean like ice cream you get for a friend?  Alastor: Ha! No. It's a feeling like a rumbling in your gut That you could finally be faced with A million greedy faces, I guess what I mean to say is  For the first time in my life I might have to be ready for this Ready to be the one who's leading from the front  Couldn’t do it on my own And history has shown Legends cannot win wars alone  The burden is a bit too heavy So I need to be ready for this  Have you ever felt like you're willing to kill To save the people on your own team?  Susan: I don’t know, seems a bit extreme…  Alastor: Not to me! 'Cause right now, we need a leader And it seems to be that Charlie is forcing me to be that because she’s pissy  So who's with me?  Wouldn't it just be swell to see more of Hell? Join up now if you like travel Come on girls, prepare for battle! Lotta sights to see en route to the hotel Not to mention all of the glory!  Yes indeed, your enemies will cower

And heads will be severed!  Charlie: You’ll make a bunch of brand new friends!  Alastor: Whatever.  Exorcists: New friends!? I'm in Oh whoa I’m so lonely  It's time now to act They're on the attack When they move to strike Just know we’ve got your back!  We'll follow your lead We're eager to see everyone we meet On the hellish retreat!  From this moment on, you can count us in To be organized and disciplined  Our thirst for justice keeps us strong, fierce, and brave So I say, "Ho hey! Let’s join in his crusade!"  Alastor: Now thats the spirit! Can we amp it up? Vaggie: Oh, don’t mind their hesitation, that’s just their new inclination

 Alastor: But I can awaken their bloodlust! Vaggie: Careful, kid. Don’t push your luck!

Alastor: Fair enough…  Alastor and Vaggie: We're super duper grateful To have you gals aboard  Exorcists: We can’t wait to hug an overlord! (Alastor: Yeah, sure...)  Alastor: For the first time in my life Maybe I can be ready for this I can be the marshal leading the parade  I can come into my own And I think I've always known My destiny could never be postponed  When they come for the hotel

I’ll give em hell cuz I’m ready for this!  Vaggie: They're dancing along? They're singing his song!? Charlie: Surprised? Why, I knew he could do it all along!  Charlie and Vaggie: He’s bound to be redeemed, the dream has a chance! Though he seemed hopeless at first glance…  Charlie: He’s filled with potential that I could guide! Vaggie: Fine, I’m in.  Charlie and Vaggie: Stick with him, he will surely see the light!  All: For the first time in our lives We know that we are ready for this  Vaggie: We’ll show them we can forgive and forget!  All: It's time to lend a hand  Alastor: It is time to take a stand! (Exorcists: Woohoo!) Against overlords and their deadly threat!  All: We can provide your support The time has come to stop a war Defend your home, we're ready for... THIS!  Alastor: I really hope that they’re ready for this...

#hazbin hotel #shitpost #omg thank u for being nice to me in the replies n tags u guys r cute🥹#role reversal au

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jyoongim · 2 months

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begging for some alastor x reader crumbs where Al leaves dead things on reader's doorstep as gifts like a cat does. "Oh that sinner has eyes with reader's fave color, they would surely love to have that" "why the fuck is there ANOTHER corpse on my fucking lawn?!"

This is a more fluffier request and it is very short.

Hope you enjoy <3 ;)

Alastor might have been a sadistic psychopathic maniac, but he had some surprising aspects to him.

Like how he left you gifts.

You blinked in surprise at the tiny box held to your face.

Alastor was standing before you with a smile on his face, mirth dancing in his eyes “Al? What’s this?” You asked taking the box.

”Oooh just a little something I thought you would like. I pulled a few limbs to get it just right” he laughed.

Inside was a pair of ivory earrings. They were beautiful.

You pouted, putting the earrings in “Al you didn’t have to get me anything” you tucked some hair behind your ear, smiling

”How do they look?”

”They suit you quite well, my dear”

How were you suppose to know the gifts he was leaving you were poor sinners?

You were a picky eater, even by cannibalistic means. You didn’t like the fatty parts, finding them too greasy and often upsetting your tummy. Many butcher shops haggled an arm for the really good stuff. You had a preference for internal organs, but hated spending so much for it.

Your nose had picked up the scent of blood in the hotel. You ended up in the kitchen, and the sight before your eyes made you giggle.

Alastor, in a bloody apron, arm deep in a carcass, disemboweling it. He had set aside most of the delicacies. You watched as he occasionally ate a slab of meat as he worked.

You figured he was gonna make dinner so you left him unbothered.

You normally didn’t eat around everyone at dinner, just because of the looks you got from your preference. You usually ate when everyone was done and out the kitchen.

Alastor placed a bowl in front of you, grabbing your attention.

You could have cried; innards and they smelled divine.

And the blood was even drained.

”But Alastor what will you eat?” He smiled at you stuffed cheeks, confusion peaking on your brow

”I already ate my fill, you should have the finer bits”you happily slurped an intestine.

In many ways, the red demon was more like a cat than a deer

”Alastor! What the fuck!?” Vaggie scolded

there were five dead bodies outside the hotel and Alastor was bagging them up.

”Alastor! Why are their dead sinners outside the hotel? We are trying to save sinners not have them killed!”

Alastor smiled “They are for a gift”

It took you a while to figure out that Alastor was gifting you sinners to show he could provide for you.

It should have creeped you out…

But you were a sucker for his little gifts.

The Radio Demon could be a sweetheart…in his own twisted way

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor smut #jyoongim #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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fangswbenefits · 2 months

Text

Comfortable

Summary: Astarion walks in on you in a rather compromising situation. Naturally, he offers to help, but then you ask him to promise you something that he was not expecting…

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Fluff. Aftercare. Oral sex. Pillow humping. Innuendo. Mentions of masturbation.

Word count: 3.3k

It's a wavering sequence of whimpers that catches Astarion's attention just as he arrives at camp after a late night hunt.

The blood on non thinking creatures seldom presents itself as a decent meal, but he finds it unfair to depend exclusively on you.

The boars in the outskirts of Baldur's Gate are delectable enough to blind his hunger for a few hours – maybe a full day, if need be.

The camp seems peaceful and quiet with everyone still catching some rest after in their respective tents, and as the pale moon glows up high in the dark blue sky, he notices the dawn isn't breaking for at least a few more hours.

Maybe he can indulge in a trance to ease his mind and body after feeding, even though it's not a dire necessity.

But it seems that the night has other plans reserved for him.

His steps are light and sure, following the crescendo of sounds that seems to come from near his tent.

He would recognise that voice anywhere.

You.

As he draws near, trying to make out the origin of said whimpers, he vaguely wonders if you're having a dream.

That is the most reasonable explanation.

But then he hears what resembles a muffled groan.

A nightmare?

Instinctively, an eyebrow quirks as he approaches your tent.

And then he freezes.

Even through the obvious failed attempt at reining yourself in, he knows exactly what he heard.

His name. Muffled and barely intelligible, but his name, nonetheless.

An amused smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him that you are indeed pleasuring yourself. Risky and unexpected, but beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Cheeky…

He could simply entertain this, and leave it to you to reach your peak on your own.

Unfortunately for him, he has just fed.

And unfortunately for you, he has every intention of interrupting your solo endeavour.

His usual cool body now flooded with the warmth and vigour that make it extremely easy not to succumb to your sweet and melodic whimpers.

As such, he tugs at the strings that hold both flaps together, successfully drawing a surprised gasp from you.

“You scared me!”

He finds you propped up on one elbow before rushing to sit and pulling a blanket to cover yourself, a mortified look splattered across your face.

The sight in front of him is enough for the recently drunk blood to rush downwards at record speed.

Predictable, but such is the nature of his body when it comes to you.

Flustered and quickened breaths. His senses are so sharp from the recent blood intake, that he can hear your heartbeat drumming fast in your chest.

By now, he knows you well enough.

So well, that he's sure he has just interrupted your climax.

The confirmation comes in the form of a low growl of frustration.

He almost feels sorry for you, but what crosses his mind is the offer of a moment of pleasure so great only he can provide.

“You were close.”

It isn't a question and he doesn't expect an answer.

But you're so visibly irritated that you scowl deeply. “Yes! Yes, I was. Thank you so much for interrupting.”

“My pleasure,” he retorts, knowing fully well he's about to set off a bomb if he doesn't choose his words carefully.

You have a temper he adores to test. He's used to dancing to your tune and knows exactly which strings to pull to get you riled up in ways that often lead to very enjoyable outcomes.

His cock welcomes your huff of annoyance with a faint twitch.

“Why didn’t you just… wait…” you almost cry out in sheer frustration.

He lets out a taunting laugh. “What, and miss out on all of the fun, darling?”

A dramatic pout settles your lips and it takes all of his self-control not to wipe it off your face with a kiss in an instant.

“How many did you take this time?”

It is a glaring taunt.

And your mouth drops open.

Maybe he should have eased his way in, considering the current predicament.

But the way your body is all flustered and heated from your own touch is enough to flare desire inside him. And whenever desire begins to swell inside him, the fine line between reason and pleasure begins to blur.

Mostly because he knows he was the one on your mind when you had your fingers deep inside you.

Your eyes widen slowly, and you clutch the blanket closer to your lower half, still hiding the proof of your arousal from his prying eyes.

You don't reply at first, your pride keeping you silent.

But Astarion doesn't mind. In fact, he enjoys your resistance at first. Makes it all the more enjoyable when you finally give in.

“How many, darling?”

You frown, averting your eyes.

So stubborn…

His cock adores it.

“How many?” his tone is firmer this time and you slowly meet his eyes again.

“... two.”

He clicks his tongue, crouching before you. “Oh, darling…”

Two fingers are not nearly enough to provide the fullness and stretch that only his cock can. But he appreciates your effort nonetheless.

It's quite adorable and enough to have his cock hardening even more.

Your fingers still glisten in the faint candlelight and he feels the sudden urge to have them in his mouth. He never tires of tasting you in more ways than one.

“You do not need to hide from me,” he says tenderly, but still not moving an inch. He wants you to feel comfortable enough under his gaze. “You've bared yourself to me many times, love.”

Still, you don't let go of the fabric, a slash of defiance crossing your face. “You took too long.”

Ah. “Did you miss me?”

You bite your lip, face softening as you nod twice.

And you were so desperate for him that you just couldn't wait?

Gods.

His cock stirs even more against his trousers at the silent realisation.

“And I am here now,” he says, dropping to his knees, as a wicked smile turns his lips. “So, allow me.”

He reaches out with his hand to tug at the fabric, silently looking for your permission.

A shaky sigh parts your lips and he spots a shiver as he pulls the blanket that keeps you from him.

His eyes drop to the sweet spot between your legs and he almost regrets having interrupted you.

Almost.

Your clit is so swollen it deliciously peeks from between your folds, parting them gently. It throbs faintly as he catches your clenching a few times, wetness dripping out.

After a moment, he manages to tear his gaze away, ignoring the twitches of protest from his cock.

He finds your half-hooded eyes. “May I?”

You hesitate at first, nearly pressing your thighs together, but he stops you with both hands on your knees, a reassuring grip that has you slowly but surely loosen up under his touch.

“You don't have to…”

No, he doesn't.

But he wants to.

In fact, he thinks he needs to.

He rubs circles along your flushed skin, wanting your full attention on him before he speaks, “I appreciate the concern, darling, but I'm impossibly hard and you look incredibly delectable.”

It's more than enough to have you yearning for more, as a surprise gasp parts your lips.

You finally nod, spreading your legs and leaning back as you settle on your elbows.

He offers a sly grin, lowering and positioning himself right where he craves to be.

But not before he eases some of the growing tension on his lower half. The blood coursing through his body is more of an inconvenience for now, and he's sure, under different circumstances, he'd have better control over this.

Or maybe not.

Maybe you're just that good for him.

You jerk slightly when his mouth draws near your slick folds.

“Wait.”

And he does, his concentration slightly shaken as he promptly scans your face for any cause for alarm.

“Just… don't leave afterwards.”

Don't leave–

Astarion's lips are so close to your clit, he has to pull back slightly so he can have a proper look at you, his hardened cock still straining against his undergarments.

“What do you mean?” he asks, perplexed.

There is hesitance in your eyes. “You tend to leave after… like you don't want to be here with me.”

That sounds like a whiplash to him, because it is not true at all.

Your words take him by surprise and he immediately worries he may have said or done something that could be interpreted as mixed signals.

“Darling, I–”

But you immediately shake your head. “If you can stay after… I'd appreciate it. Only you want to, of course,” you quickly add. “It doesn't feel right otherwise…”

It isn't a request. Nor a plea.

It's just what feels right.

He's done this many times to the point of instinct. It comes natural to him to please others. The aftermath, though, is something that he's also used to forgoing. The mess, the sweat, the fluids… the unnecessary and forced talk…

But you are different, aren't you?

You are not… the others.

And after all you've been through, he feels his mind nearly snap in half as he realises just how much he's still holding back with you.

Even something as simple as just staying still felt… tainted.

Slowly, he nods.

And slowly, your lips turn into a tender smile that he's grown to adore beyond comprehension.

“I'll stay.”

You heave a deep sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Astarion counters the impromptu detour with unmatched expertise, lowering his head and admiring just how eager your body is for him.

Before he drags his tongue along your folds, he slithers his hand down to reach for the front of his trousers, hurriedly undoing them.

It's his turn to sigh in relief as his cock is set free.

But now he misses the friction and the carpeted floor of your tent feels too rough.

His eyes roam around in search of something – anything – more comfortable.

And then he's caught off guard by your offer.

“Maybe this will help.”

A pillow.

He chuckles deviously, appreciating your creativity in moments such as these. Promptly, he takes it in his hand and positions it under him, his cock welcoming the soft surface.

“I adore that mind of yours,” he says cheekily.

You are about to voice a reply, but no word comes out when his tongue hits your entrance.

Immediately, your hips buck and his smile never wavers.

He knows what you crave, but he will take his time even if you're already close to the edge.

After all, he's addicted to his devotion to you even if he never utters it out loud. He prefers his actions speak for themselves. Words are treacherous and deceiving. Actions speak louder.

And so he indulges in you. He indulges you, because that is what keeps him from reaching the frayed ends of his mind.

You're what grounds him these days.

And he will ground you with him.

As such, he drags the tip along your folds, collecting your wetness and he only stops once it finds your clit.

A soft moan escapes your lips and he hopes you have it in you to keep it down so as to not wake the others.

He locks eyes with you one last time. “Are you ready, darling?”

Your hips roll twice, but he knows you're not ready. You never are for the pleasure he offers to you so passionately.

Another roll and he knows you're growing impatient, so he gives your clit a quick swipe of his tongue before he latches.

He doesn't begin suckling hard right away, as he needs to ensure he can steady you for what's to come. Both arms loop around your thighs and he allows his eyes to flutter shut, losing himself in you.

It amazes him how your body responds to him, and your hips try to find a desperate rhythm as if you're riding his cock.

The pillow under him provides enough friction for him to roll his own hips, eager to match your tempo.

He could feel the wetness drenching the fabric, but he can't bring himself to care.

Your hand finds his curls and he growls against your clit as you tug gently, but evidently craving more.

And more he gives you.

He's sucking more fiercely this time, taking his time to savour the swell in between his teeth. From this angle, he can feel your wetness coating his chin. He can't directly feel it, but he just knows you're clenching desperately around nothing.

Maybe he should take it slower.

Maybe he should pry you open with two of his fingers, even though you're wet enough to take a third one.

But the unexpected friction caused by the pillow is begging to edge him beyond belief.

Is it from the blood he drank? Is he just so ridiculously aroused? Why is your clit so swollen this time? Is it from his incessant suckles?

His mind turns into haze and he decides he's not looking for any logical answers.

He simply allows his hips to move on their own accord, matching the face with each suckle.

“Astarion… Gods…”

You're fortunate his mouth is kept busy, or he'd hurl a snarky reply. Gods have no place here. The delicacies of carnal bliss are reserved for those who tread the earth.

He's the only one who'd ever worship you, and you'd worship him right back, because that's how it's meant to be.

Precum drips from his tip at an alarming rate. He's too hard. He's too aroused. His body is seeking to be inside yours.

But he decided against it.

No.

He wants to see you unravel for him and in front of him.

His eyes open once again and he takes in the sight of your body undulating. Skin all flushed and eyes read to drop close as you near the precipice.

As always, his latch is impeccable. He never lets go and takes pride in leaving you dripping for him.

A few droplets run down his chin and dangle from it, bestowing upon him the most enticing silent praise he could ask for.

He knows you're close when your fingers close around his curls, desperately rocking your hips against him.

A low growl of approval rumbles in his chest and he's starting to struggle to keep his pace.

He has to find a way to still his hips before you reach your climax in fear you'll drag him along with you far too soon.

And so he does.

This time, he wants to see it.

He wants to see you as you come for him.

He's mostly perplexed that you found a way to muffle your moans, your shirt rolled up and captured in between your teeth, granting him the privileged view of your heaving breasts and hardened nipples.

Momentarily, his hips threaten to buck driven by pure instinct.

But he manages to hold back.

And when he's sure you're too far gone, head tilting back and legs shaking ever so slightly, does he unlatch from your clit.

He pulls back enough to witness the first sets of contractions course through your body.

Wetness drips from his chin, and he can't tear his gaze from the mesmerising way your entrance clenches rhythmically before him.

He's felt those contractions many times. He is well aware of just how vicious and relentless they can be around his cock, never failing to draw every last drop of his cum deep inside you.

Your muffled cries and the way your hips still momentarily, are all he needs to get lost in his own pleasure again.

He props himself high enough to place his hips at the right angle, rolling them urgently against the soft fabric of the pillow.

He's so close… so deliciously close.

Your taste lingers on his tongue and the vision of you still writhing under him holds his gaze almost painfully.

Your fingers ease on his curls and he feels the familiar tightening of his balls warning him that he's about to reach the point of no return.

It comes and overtakes his body so violently his mind blanks for a brief moment, as his mouth drops open.

He wants to groan and growl and hiss, but no sound comes out.

The friction is so overwhelming, he can't help but to lose balance, his lips finding your swollen clit once again.

And just like before, he latches instinctively and you try to jerk away from him, definitely being hit with a sting of oversensitivity.

He comes undone, suckling on you harder than ever before.

Ropes of cum spill from him rhythmically, his own contractions taking over. He can feel the fabric underneath him drench with each thrust, and he vaguely wonders how much of it he still has left in him.

Your clit is now the only thing grounding him as he rides out his climax and, in the far corner of his hazy mind, he's thankful that you eased into him once again, granting him the solace he is seeking so desperately.

There's only so much he can withstand as his senses are flooded with overwhelming pleasure, and he finds himself unlatching and almost slumping against your lower abdomen.

He's spent.

Utterly spent.

He thinks he hears a tender giggle, but maybe it's simply his mind playing tricks on him.

With effort, he hoists himself along your body, collapsing, the side of his face resting against your stomach.

He wants to say something, but he's rendered silent by the aftershock of his climax.

And that's when he feels your fingers again, raking along his scalp and through unruly curls.

“Are you leaving?”

He says nothing.

Your fingertips work their magic along his skin and he's sure you can lull him into a trance if you so wished.

You're too powerful and he's too in love with you to care.

“Astarion.”

Your voice is low and sweet and he hums in return, arm wrapped around your waist.

“Can we stay like this for a while?”

Who's he to deny you of it? Or himself?

He's sweaty and his cock drenched in cum and precum and you're a mess yourself. Hardly the epitome of romance.

Or maybe he's wrong because when you bring a soft piece of cloth to his temple and drag it along his face, he suddenly gets it.

He finally understands why you want him to stay.

Why it makes sense.

His eyes flutter shut as he basks in your tenderness and adoration.

You hum a soft tune under your breath, cleaning him up.

Face and neck first.

“Can you shift higher?” you ask.

He realises your intentions and lifts his head to stare at you.

“You don't have to.”

All you do is offer him a smile. Your smile. “I want to. Allow me, lover.”

No one has ever taken care of him. No one has ever bothered to. Not until you.

He silently does what you asked, too stunned to come up with a clever tease.

His eyes flutter shut in what comes close to embarrassment. For some reason, he feels more exposed than ever when you wrap the cloth around his cock.

“Tell me if it gets too much,” you say, your voice but a whisper.

He immediately shakes his head. “Not with you.”

A hiss parts his lips as you tenderly take care of him.

Astarion rests his head just above your breast and

“Do you wish to talk?” he asks.

Your lips find their way through his damp curls, placing a kiss atop his head.

“Do you want to?”

He chuckles, feeling his cock soften in your hand – definitely a first. “I fear I'm too drained to do so.”

“Silence it is,” you say and he feels your warm breath against his skin.

Not just any silence.

Comfortable silence.

The rare type old romance books mention in passing and that many seek to no avail.

But he's found it because he's found you.

Masterlist

#astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion smut #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x f!tav #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion x f!reader

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libraryofgage · 9 months

Text

I realized Steve is absolutely that kid whose parents put him through piano lessons solely so they could have another way to show off at parties and shit. And then that thought morphed into a little Steddie plot bunny and here we are lol:

Steve doesn't know it's the last time he'll sit at the grand piano, the last time he'll press down its keys and let music fill the empty room before bleeding out into the empty house.

He doesn't know that when his parents next come home, his mother will notice how horribly out of tune the instrument is. He doesn't know that it will be sent off somewhere for repair (his parents won't tell him where, no matter how he asks, and he'll never quite understand why) and lost to him. He doesn't know his parents won't bother buying another one; it was only ever there to impress party guests when Steve sat down and played some Bach. Without those parties, company or otherwise, there's no point in getting another one: both the piano and Steve will have outlived their usefulness.

He doesn't know that he'll be storing away his sheet music, carefully placed into folders and in a waterproof box for safekeeping. He doesn't know that he'll soon become too consumed by high school and dating and monsters to idly write down notes on a staff. He doesn't know that when he's swinging a nail-ridden bat in the future (to destroy monsters, sure, but destruction is destruction, right?) he'll ache with the pain of missing the act of creation as a means of stress relief.

He doesn't know any of that, so Steve sits down at the grand piano with a soft smile, gently trailing his fingers over the keys before lining them up in the Middle C-position. He runs through a few warm-ups, letting muscle memory take him away, so he doesn't have to think. Without another thought, he seamlessly transitions into idly playing, bits and pieces of everything he remembers and songs he's heard blending together.

Mozart's Air morphs into Beethoven's Fur Elise into Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody. It doesn't all sound good together, but that's not the point when Steve plays by himself. All that matters is letting his brain shut off for a bit, letting the notes and echoes mingle together to create something new and joyful.

After two hours on the piano, his wrists are aching; he always forgets to hold them in the proper position when he plays alone. But it's a good ache, one that reminds him of the music still dancing around in his brain.

Steve takes a deep breath and slowly releases it, feeling the last of his tension dissipate. He lets his hands linger on the piano for a little longer before standing and leaving the room, tragically unaware of his imminent and unavoidable loss.

--------

Steve is sprawled across an old couch in Gareth's garage, reading Eddie's well-loved copy of Lord of the Rings. He'd promised to at least give it a go, and he had to admit he was looking forward to finally understanding some of the references Hellfire Club and the kids make. His progress is slow, but he's almost halfway through after two weeks of work. Reading while Corroded Coffin practices helps; the background noise of their music is perfect, letting him ignore all other sounds and focus.

Of course, that's provided they actually play continuously instead of starting the same song over and over only for Eddie to stop them halfway through. When it happens for the sixth time, Eddie growls in frustration, tugging harshly at a lock of hair. "It still sounds wrong!" he cries, dropping into a crouch while cradling his guitar close.

"Stopping us halfway through isn't helping," Gareth points out, idly twirling a drumstick as he watches Eddie's lament.

"Do you know what's wrong yet?" Asher asks.

Steve can longer focus on Lord of the Rings. Instead, he places the book on his chest and looks at the band to watch how this plays out. Eddie scowls and looks up at Asher. "Unfortunately, Ashy Baby, no."

Jeff, meanwhile, has locked eyes with Steve. And because Jeff knows the perfect way to get Eddie off their asses is to get him on Steve's instead, he says, "Why don't you ask Harrington what he thinks?"

Eddie whips around to look at Steve, eyes wide and hopeful. He doesn't even bother standing from his crouch, instead waddling his way over to Steve and testing his ability to hold back laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the sight. "Stevie, baby, sweetheart, lover boy, please tell me that wonderful brain of yours has an idea so your favorite boyfriend can finish this rocking song."

"You're my only boyfriend."

"Which automatically makes me your favorite," Eddie points out, grinning as he leans closer. With Steve still laying down, Eddie's the perfect height in his crouch to kiss him. He lingers for a few seconds before pulling away, and Steve knows his own smile matches the dopiness of Eddie's.

"Have you considered adding a piano?" Steve asks.

"None of us know how to play," Asher says, and Steve would look at him if Eddie's face and hair and shoulders and everything weren't filling his entire line of sight.

Without thinking, Steve hums and says, "I do."

"Do what?" Eddie asks.

"Know how to play piano."

There's a silence that follows his sentence, one that makes Steve's stomach lurch as he wonders if he's maybe fucked up the shaky peace and friendship he's finally managed to build with the other members of Corroded Coffin. He doesn't know how his words might have done it, but he's scrambling to somehow take them back when Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, the bands of his rings pressing against Steve's lips.

"Gareth, you still got that keyboard?" he asks, keeping his eyes locked on Steve. There's a light dancing in them like he's just discovered magic is real, like Steve has amazed him beyond imagination.

With a grunt, Gareth gets up from his drums and steps into his house. The rest of them stay in silence while waiting, Eddie refusing to remove his hand no matter how much Steve licks his palm. When he finally gives up and just glares at Eddie, his boyfriend grins brightly back.

"It's a little dusty, but it'll work fine," Gareth says when he comes back, and Eddie finally moves his hand and body, allowing Steve to see Gareth setting up a keyboard a few feet away from his drums.

"Okay, sweetheart," Eddie says, taking the book from Steve and carefully setting it aside before pulling him off the couch, "you've heard the song enough. Play what's missing."

Steve hesitates before walking over to the keyboard. Eddie sticks to him like a shadow, sliding his arms around Steve from behind once he's standing in front of the white and black keys. An odd nervousness churns in Steve, tugging at his spine and making his palms clammy, but he knows it would be much worse without Eddie there. If he had to play in front of the band without feeling like anyone was on his side, he'd probably just throw up instead.

"It, uh, it's been a while," he says quietly, easily falling into the muscle memory of tracing the keys and finding Middle C and dancing his fingers through warm-ups despite his words.

Eddie squeezes him tighter as Jeff asks, "Since you've played? Why?"

Memories of his grand piano rise in Steve unbidden, overwhelming him in a rush of longing for the instrument itself and the relaxation of playing. "My parents paid for lessons and had me play at company parties. They, uh, sent it off to be tuned, but it got damaged, and they didn't get another one."

"That sucks, Stevie," Eddie murmurs, soft and reassuring and Steve suddenly feels far more confident.

He looks up at Jeff. "Can you start playing again?" he asks, flashing a grateful smile when Jeff nods and starts strumming the song's opening notes.

Steve listens closely, breathing in the tune he's heard so many times and letting it take hold. He doesn't allow himself to actually think, letting Jeff's guitar and Eddie's arms and hair and scent drown out everything else. Before he knows it, he's playing a hesitant tune that grows with confidence as he follows the song laid out before him. He's always a measure behind, chasing the guitar's echoing notes as they fade.

He and Jeff make it through the whole song without Eddie telling them to stop. When the final notes of guitar and piano echo together, the latter still chasing the former even at the end, Steve is shaking with excitement and anxiety and grief and joy.

He lets out a slow breath, feeling tension he didn't even realize had lingered for so long finally draining from his shoulders and dissipating. Steve can also feel Eddie's face pressed against his neck, a smile searing into his skin as Eddie squeezes him even tighter.

"I love you so fucking much, Stevie, that's exactly what was missing," Eddie says, his words the only warning he gives before pulling Steve away from the keyboard and off his feet and spinning him around. His surprised yelp quickly morphs into laughter that still lingers even after Eddie has set him down again.

Gareth and Jeff and Asher have already started discussing how the other parts of the song might change with the addition of a keyboard, but Steve is too busy turning in Eddie's arms and kissing his smile away to pay them any mind. He can worry about inevitably being roped into the band's practices later, after he and Eddie are breathless and flushed and smiling bright.

#steddie fic #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Corroded Coffin #Stranger Things #My writing #I got this plot bunny and fucking ran with it

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justabratsworld · 2 months

Text

Yandere Alpha x reader

Yan! Alpha: Is forced to go a burlesque club with his friends since he “needs to relax a bit” and could “maybe get laid or something”

Yan! Alpha: Despite seeing all the beautiful omegas on stage is honestly bored and not interested in the show until he saw you appear on stage.

Yan! Alpha: Straight up gobsmacked. Literally cannot look away from you, mostly because his inner alpha is yelling at him to tackle you and carry you away from all these prying eyes.

Yan! Alpha: Gets a whiff of your scent when you dance right next to his table. The smell of pumpkins and pecans filled his nose and filled his head with possessive thoughts.

Yan! Alpha: Is the leader of a very powerful pack and is well known to everyone. Surely you would feel lucky and blessed for having such a strong alpha pining after you.

Yan! Alpha: Doesn’t understand why you’re nervous around him. Why would you need some beta extra guard you whenever your alpha decides to visit you?

Yan! Alpha: Tells you that you should be on your knees showing him how happy you are for taking you as his mate. Thanking him for providing you a home and giving you a room to make your nest instead of that dingy closet you called home. You should be telling him he’s the love of your life and you’re so glad he took you away from your old life…even if it was against your will.

(The pumpkin and pecan smell is a bath and body works fall edition and it smells so good)

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere x you #alpha x reader

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satoruhour · 3 months

Note

Can I request Toji x reader smut (established relationship) where Toji’s dick slips out and the reader puts it back in?

CAN’T BE OUT A SECOND LONGER !?

a/n: :3 / tagging @jabamin @kizoken @kentophilia @redskyvenus @screampied ✶

warnings: soft dom!toji, fem!reader, reader deep in sub space, slight daddy kink, implied oral (both f and m receiving), sex under the influence, unprotected p → v sex, pussy slapping, breeding / creampie kink, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

it’s simply too difficult seeing toji in proper attire, especially when he’s attending your brother’s wedding in a suit and tie, something he reserves for truly important events like these. otherwise, he’d just be in his sweatpants and compression shirt.

not that he didn’t look good in that — but it was eye-opening when he made the effort to get a suit jacket and waistcoat with a tie that matched your dress, hanging off his arm while you watch your brother go crazy on the dance floor.

“you okay there, doll?” his voice is soft over the booming sound system but you catch the concern laced in his words, knowing you had quite a few glasses of wine and mixed other types of liquor with the groom’s toast. “we can head back if you want.”

it’s all that you want but you want to do it discreetly, trailing a hand down his toned arm to twine your fingers with his. with a turned head toward him, you look up at him through your eyelashes.

“yeah . . let’s. i wanna—” toji isn’t fully sober either, the intoxication contributing to the blurriness of everyone else while your face stays in ultra focus; your exposed clavicle, your pouty lips. he can already feel himself getting semi-hard.

“you wanna what?”

you’re able to walk back to your hotel room, but with a giddy smile and laughter from your throat, pressing a firm hand against your lipsticked lips with a frown.

“no, not while you have alcohol in your body—”

you push his hand away, latching onto broad shoulders and making sure you appear as sober as you can to him, “what’s with a little alcohol, toji? you couldn’t find our floor in the elevator earlier either.”

teasing is your forte, moving a hand up and down his chest, over his waist, unbuttoning his waistcoat — and it’s true; toji’s a little gone as well, asking you a few more times until you’re shaking him by his lapels and telling him to “get naked already!”

that warrants a laugh from toji and he gives into you, definitely more open to drinking with you before you two get it on because he notices how everything just sends his skin ablaze: your mouth around his tip, his tongue slurping up your juices.

toji’s on cloud nine when you sink down on his cock, easing it into your waiting cunt after the many, many minutes of prep. your moans mingle with your boyfriend’s grunts, hyper aware of his hands that wrap around your waist to help you.

“cunt so t-tight, sweetheart, thought i stretched you out enough—” you’re silent, already half gone from the liquor in your body that it heightens your senses the same way it does to toji. with a hand, you guide him into you, whining softly at the small amount of pain it harbours.

“slow . . baby, don’t rush,” his words sound miles away when he speaks, eyes locked onto your bent body and your ass on display as you start to bottom out, “that’s it, you got it— good girl.” he maps out the line down your back, your tilted head, admiring you with one hand behind his head along the headboard; and when you start bouncing when he fully appreciates the high of whiskey.

the way your gummy walls hug his length, the fluttering your pussy does around his cock, the jiggle of your ass once you start moving — nothing compares to your moans though, hands forming marks on his thighs from how tightly you hold onto them.

“t-toji . . nngh—” incoherent sentences leave your lips, every hump of your hips providing a little friction for your clit. “s’good, daddy . .”

“is it now?” toji hums at the nickname and smiles to himself, admiring the transparent webs of your cum that sticks to your ass and his pelvis. instinctively his hips move up to meet yours, chuckling deeply when you lurch forward and moan loudly at the way he splits you open, so much so that you can feel him against your cervix.

“you just stay there, baby, i’ll do the work,” he grunts out and stays true to his word, planting his feet down just so he can thrust up into you. your body moves with his, eyes rolling to the back of your head and legs spreading even more, but his hips are just too eager to feel your tight pussy around him that his cock slips out with a sloppy shlick.

your annoyed whine makes the other laugh again, but before he can reach forward to help you, you’re helping yourself, looking back at him dizzily and then to his pelvis, feeling around for his cock. you stroke it a few times and tap it against your folds, the dim lighting of the bedroom illuminating your skin and figure so perfectly.

“oh, f-fuck— you’re giving daddy a show, hm?” he says, words just above a whisper, watching how your hips grind against him. but being turned away from him has you having a little more difficulty, tip slipping out every few times toji tries to ram into you and he watches in awe with every time you glance back at him through hooded lids and lolling tongue.

and every time you’re scrambling back to get his length into you, to trail his throbbing tip along your slit to stretch yourself out, to roll your hips with disgusting squelching noises that emphasised how needy you were.

“tojiii . .” you sob when it happens again and toji’s pleasantly surprised to see you close to crying, eyes welling with tears in frustration. you just want him close, but your body’s already too loopy and too fatigued to hold yourself up so toji pulls on you with a tsk.

“dramatic princess, c’mon, i got ya,” from here you can see just how much of a mess you made — juices smeared all over your inner thighs, cunt still leaking, “but i need you t’do somethin’ for me, yeah?”

you sigh as his arm wraps around your middle and his other pulls on your knee so one leg is pulled to your chest; a good enough position, as long as he could fuck you in it. “what is it?”

there’s a certain pout in your voice that he catches, “help daddy get his cock back in you, baby.”

“but—”

“don’t worry,” toji soothes you with a kiss to your temple, adjusting you to properly accommodate you atop of body. not that he couldn’t handle your weight, oh, it was something he loved, but he only hopes you know what’s in store from the very first time you showed him how much you loved his cock in you that it almost brought you to tears.

he needs to see your focused face as you ease him into you, see that focused expression fall into pure ecstasy and a long, languid moan leave your lips as you totally surrender to him. you tick all the boxes soon after, reaching blindly for him while you both watch as you rub his pulsing dick along your sensitive clit; the other has to teasingly buck his hips to get your head back in the game.

“need to feel you ’round me, pretty girl, c’mon. don’t waste time,” he rasps out next to your ear, seeing the bite of your lip through his peripheral as you shamelessly whine at the entrance, sounds coming to a halt when you’re halfway through his length, and then a beautiful arch of your back when your boyfriend bottoms out in you.

“t-toji— mmgh—!”

“use your big girl words, baby.”

but he starts moving and you simply can’t, each vein, each twitch of his cock you can feel it with your sopping pussy as the room starts to smell like sex and sweat. toji holds both your legs, now, making sure you have a clear view of his hips fucking up into yours and relishes in how he’s already rendered you speechless.

“makin’ ya feel good? huh?”

“y-yeah . . daddy . . you feel so fucking g-good,” you barely manage to speak, not noticing the slight stutter he has when the nickname falls from your lips, but you do notice when his pace becomes regular and faster, panting out when your hand starts to rub at your clit. every slap of his pelvis against yours is like a reminder of toji’s overpowering strength over you, holding you up so easily, back curved to fit into his front perfectly.

“you feel so goddamn good too, princess,” he breaths out, feeling your rub circles into your clit and his eyes zone in on how his cock moves in and out of your cunt, taking him so nicely and pliantly that he feels his heart swell, “you know i can never get enough of y’r pussy.”

your heart and pussy pounds harder at that, fully letting your head rest along his shoulder while your body rocks limply along with his thrusts. toji can’t resist giving you kisses along your jawline, sending even more shivers down your whole body before he asks something of you.

“slap your pussy for me, doll,” he grunts into your ear and instantly feels you clench, able to feel his smile against your jawline, “so, soo filthy, just f’me.” you nod, each breath you take a moment of anticipation with someone as gruff but gentle as toji.

“now, spank it.” you obey, giving your pussy a few timid slaps until he releases one leg and shows you how it’s done — harsh, rough slaps against your clit that sends jolts of electricity, and your legs shake in his hold. his laugh is just sadistic, but you love every moment of it, even more so when he spanks your pussy again.

that paired with the noisy pap! pap! pap! sounds of skin slapping has your eyes rolling into your skull together with a convulsing body, not even able to give toji a proper warning before his hand lands on your core on a particularly hard spank and you’re cumming with a cry of his name, squirting all over the sheets and gushing over his cock.

multiple yes’s linger on your lips that it merges together into god knows what, “toji, toji— yesyesyes—” and like a good boyfriend, he talks you through until your pussy calms down and your stomach stops heaving, but god, you needed more.

your hips never stop grinding against his and toji takes it as a sign to chase his high, abandoning your clit before he slams into you like an animal, obscene squelches only highlighting how all of your cum was spraying everywhere. toji bites down into your neck and you gasp both in pain and pleasure, letting your body be used by him until his hips jerk.

“want to be buried in this fucking pussy forever,” it’s strained when he says it and groans when your cunt clenches around him. and it’s not long before he’s spilling his load, so thick and hot into your womb. it just fills you to the brim, little whimpers and mewls weasel themselves out of your throat before it’s taken by toji, a kiss that has you feeling like fire. “love my baby’s pussy, love you.”

“l-love you too, daddy,” you say with a giggle before turning your body over and you can feel his cum start to dribble out, eyes cloudy with the wanton need of more before you start to move down.

a swirl of your tongue, a hiss from toji, “and i love his cock, too.”

#asks #anon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x you #touji fushiguro #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk drabbles #jjk thirsts #fushiguro toji smut

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arachine · 1 year

Text

— ❝on this fateful night...two hearts danced.❞ ˚₊✩‧₊

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x human! reader

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in omaticayan culture, a young na’vi male does not yet become a full fledged adult until he passes one of two rites of passage: 1) choosing an ikran, and 2) carving a bow from the wood of Hometree (and/or choosing a woman). reader is now 20, and the only man she’s ever loved is expected to choose a wife soon. one day when she overhears a rumor concerning neteyam and the first woman in line to betroth him, reader is struck with grief, ultimately venturing off deep into the forest where she knows nobody will follow her—somewhere forbidden. however, unbeknownst to her, a certain someone follows her trail…

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), angst, fluff

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, use of alcohol, inebriation, size kink (kinda), vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), male masturbation, overstimulation, riding (no penetration), m/f ejaculation, squirting…i took some things out but i think that’s it?

ᥫ᭡ notes :: what a long week this has been…but we made it! i cannot believe the first thing i post after being on hiatus for months is blue alien sex. anyway, i hope you all enjoy. also, be mindful that the dialogue switches between formal and casual. it’s something that i noticed neteyam and kiri do a lot in the movie. for what reason? idk…but the big font after the read more is intentional bc ik some ppl complain that the small font hurts their eyes :3

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 7.2k

— playlist :: spotify link

“You have been wandering off by yourself a lot lately…”

There goes that attentiveness, you could never put anything past her—Kiri, that is. She was just too good (to a fault), and though her keen eye and emotional intelligence were extremely useful, they were also the most aggravating traits about her.

Now, you could just tell her the truth about the place you’re always wandering off to, and you also could confide in her about the thing that’s been plaguing your mind recently—but you don’t, because you know better.

For a split second, though, you hesitate telling her. The lean girl tilts her head, eyes flitting between your face and the satchel in your hands. Smoothly, you pull the satchel across your body and shift it to rest behind you—out of sight.

Kiri seems to notice your apprehension, and so, she peels her eyes from the bag, offering you her full attention by resuming eye contact once again. If she has even the slightest hunch that you’re hiding something, she doesn’t voice her suspicions.

“Well, I won’t pry, sister. You know that I am always here to listen,” she reassured, reaching out a gentle hand towards your face. You let the tips of her fingers graze your cheek, the warmth of her hand providing transitory comfort.

The two of you exchange sweet smiles before you pull away. It was getting dark, and the longer you stayed here, the harder it’d be to avoid the very thing you were trying to get away from—the very person you were trying to get away from.

“I know, Kiri,” you grabbed her hand, encasing it between your own, “I know…but—I have to go. I promise I’m alright. I’ve just…been doing some thinking, and I think I gotta sort some things out with myself before I can be around the rest of you, you know?”

There’s a silence between the two of you, and you’re not exactly sure if she’s taken offense to what you’ve just said, or if she’s carefully choosing her words. You decide on the latter though, because the last thing you want to do is make her feel as if she’s done something wrong, or if anyone has done something wrong. This was entirely on you; you and your stupid, selfish human heart.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” she replies, squinting her eyes. Again, there’s a silence, but you can tell she still has something to say, like she’s mulling it over. “Will you at least be here tonight? You know, for the big feast? Everyone will be here, even Neteyam,” the girl tsks playfully, shaking her head as she walks circles around you.

Immediately your body stiffens, and she responds to this by teasing you, “Or, I could just save you something…or maybe i’ll ask Neteyam to save you something since he’ll be the most important man tonight.”

“And why would you do that?” the words leave your tongue before you have the chance to process them. It reads rather defensively, but you ignore it. “I mean, why—why ask Neteyam?”

“Because he’s your friend…” kiri pokes you, “because you love him,” she whispers, only this time her voice is a lot more serious, a lot quieter—a whisper. This is when you get that feeling again.

That weird, achy feeling that leaves your stomach in knots and your throat all puffy. The sensation is debilitating—suffocating, and the only way you know how to ease it is by doing what you had set out to do in the first place (though, you were swiftly interrupted).

“Don’t be silly, Kiri,” your smile drops solemnly, “we’re…friends, just friends. Besides, he’s going to be spoken for soon. There are a lot of Na’vi women who would make fine mates…” Your voice decrescendos into the forest night air, the conversation lasting a lot longer than you’d anticipated. To stop your solemn mood from being expressed outwardly, you quickly turn around, looking back once to speak.

“Anyway, I have to go now. I’ll see you later.” Kiri nods and waves bye, her eyes watching as your small frame disappears out of her family’s tent.

A cacophony of voices and music fall on deaf ears as you make your way through the village. The preparation is beginning, but all you can think about is him. Him, him, him.

And ever since you overheard a rumor that Neytiri and Mo’at had chosen the next in line to become tsahik after Neytiri, your heart stopped beating…because you knew. You knew exactly what this meant—the end.

Neteyam was to be a future olo’eyktan, after all. And in Na’vi culture, the future head of the clan and the future spiritual representative were to be betrothed. You knew that, and yet, you couldn’t fathom it. Because then it’d be the end.

The end of your late night rendezvous, the end of your special talks, the end of your banter, and your clandestine glances—your whispers. The ones that were quiet, and innocent…the ones that tingled the shell of your ears. Meant for him and you only.

It was selfish, really. Stupid. You knew the day would come when he’d have to grow up and fulfill his duties as a Na’vi male. Just not this soon though, you wanted to hold onto him a little longer. And if drinking your pain away to preserve those precious memories could do that, then you’d do it.

Lost in your train of thought, you don’t register that you’ve walked yourself right into the heart of a crowd until you bump into a young na’vi child. Apologizing, you then attempt to squeeze through the sea of bodies, tapping lightly on people’s legs until you reach the front. The people were cheering, celebrating the hunters’ return and the game that the Great Mother had graciously given them.

Slowly, hunters had begun pooling in from the forest on direhorseback. Then, they started coming in clusters, all ululating, and pumping their fists in the air while holding their dead game in the other. Your head turned in awe as each hunter rode past you, the energy of the people so contagious that your sour mood was starting to dissipate, even if just a little.

Thinking that was the last of the riders, you begin walking again, but the sound of heavy hooves striking the ground halt your movements. Turning your head back to the trees, you see something moving behind the shrubbery, and then enters none other than the man of the hour: Neteyam. If the people weren’t cheering before, they were definitely cheering now—especially since he’d managed to catch an adult sturmbeest (which was a difficult feat).

The direhorse strides slowly through the crowd, and stops in the centre on Neteyam’s command. Nobody can take their eyes off of him, and neither can you. He just looks so strong, and masculine—like his father, even though he’s the spitting image of his mother. Neteyam puts his hand into the air before he dismounts his horse and ushers the people to settle down, and eventually, they do.

He points to the sturmbeest that his direhorse is carrying back to be prepared. “Tonight, my brothers and sisters…” a pause, “we dance! we sing! we feast!” His words excite the villagers again, uluations so loud that your ears begin to ring. Just as you’re about to turn away, his eyes meet yours—he smiles. And there it is. That achy feeling in your chest.

He wants to say something, reaches his arm out to you as if he were silently telling you to wait up, but then a girl strikes up a conversation with him. At first, you’re not entirely sure who it is—and you shouldn’t even care—but then you do a double take and your heart sinks a little more. It was Tsimandi, the girl rumored to be his betrothed.

From this distance, you can’t hear what they’re talking about, so you watch intently. He’s got his head thrown back in hearty laughter, and she’s touching him—actually touching him, her hands wrapped around his forearm in an attempt to pull him further away.

You think if you stay a second longer you’ll actually become a pile of liquid where you stand, so you take this opportunity to slip away while he’s preoccupied.

When Neteyam looks back, he notices your absence. Squinting, he looks around in search of you, and then he sees what looks like a person disappearing into the thick of the forest. Just what is she doing?

“I apologize, Tsimandi, but I must do something,” he begins backing away, a genuine expression etched onto his face, “I will see you tonight, at the feast!”

“Oh, o-okay,” she mutters but he’s already run off. Neteyam calls for his direhorse and waits at the edge of the forest until it comes running towards him. Before he can mount it and follow you, someone calls out to him.

“And where are you going?” the voice queries, tone laced with suspicion. He recognizes who it belongs to and sighs.

“Nowhere, sir,” he dismounts, meeting his father’s eyes, his mother also accompanying him.

“Yeah, I’d hope so. The people are throwing this feast for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake gives him a once over, eyes still boring into his son.

“No, sir. I have not forgotten,” the boy lowers his gaze in embarrassment.

“Good. Go get ready, knucklehead.”

With each trudge through the forest, you were losing more and more sunlight. You’d walked about halfway to your destination when you remembered the bottle sloshing around in your satchel.

Usually, you waited to drink the liquid there, but you decided given today’s strenuous events, you’d have some now. A reward, you tell yourself. Taking the bottle out of the bag, you lift your mask from your face briefly, twisting open the top and taking a big swig.

No matter how many times you did it, the taste always made you gag. Bourbon—is what they called it. It was equal parts bitter and pungent but it did the trick. Helped you to relax, to forget. The first time you came across it, it was by pure accident.

You’d been somewhere you shouldn’t have been, doing things you shouldn’t have been doing. But one thing led to another, and soon enough, you were inebriated for the first time.

By the time you drink half of your weight in liquor, you reach your destination. The old shack. After what happened with the Sky People, Jake’s first rule as olo’eyktan was to prohibit anyone from entering.

Even being somewhere remotely around the area was forbidden. But you were no stranger to disobedience, you’d come here once with Lo’ak (which was your first time actually).

Though, you didn’t get to explore much because Tuk had spoiled your fun by telling Jake. That day was one of your favorite memories, you think. Jake couldn’t stop yelling at the two of you, but all you could do was laugh. Nothing was really even funny, but you couldn’t help it. Seeing Jake’s eye twitch at your outburst only exacerbated it.

Lo’ak was getting the worst of it, and Neteyam fell victim to Jake’s nagging too for not ‘being there’. After a while, he’d dismissed the bunch of you from his tent and as soon as you were out of earshot, the three of you went into a frenzy of laughter. You think back fondly on those memories, all the ones that include Neteyam, that is.

“God, there isn’t a second when I’m not thinking of you…” you sigh in exhaustion, extending an arm out to open the shack’s door. Reaching in your satchel, you pull out two jars full of glow worms (you’ve found that two jars are enough to light up the shack). Ambling over to your favorite spot, you open a cabinet and reach for another bottle of that bitter liquid you willingly put into your body.

It’s still a wonder to you how well preserved these bottles remained over the years, and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard Norm or someone mention that the older the liquor, the better it tastes (which was a lie, but alas, you down another shot).

“Wooo,” a cough erupts from your throat, “yep, still nasty.”

At this point, the liquor is starting to take effect. Warmth radiates throughout your entire body, and you can feel your limbs gradually getting heavier. Being drunk had to be one of your top three favorite feelings.

It either made you: sad, tired, or giggly (maybe even all at once). But now? Now you were feeling sleepy, so you groggily trudge over to one of the beds in the shack.

As soon as your body hits the plush, a cloud of dust filters through the air. It was incredibly disgusting, but you’d slept in worse places. For now, you would lay here…succumbing to a sweet slumber.

Neteyam had gone home without fuss as promised. Go and get ready. Well, he was doing exactly that now, exchanging his previous attire for that of something more formal. He rolled his eyes and huffed. Sometimes his father could just be a…

“Son of a bitch,” the boy snapped, his frustration reaching its peak. He’d been standing in the tent for about 10 minutes trying to figure out this headpiece his mother had laid out for him, but could not for the life of him figure it out.

Giving up, he throws it to the ground and takes a seat with his head in his hands. Kiri slips in shortly after his outburst, bending to the ground to retrieve the item. Hesitantly, she walks over to her brother.

“If you needed some help, you could have called, brother.” Neteyam lifts his head up from his hands to see Kiri towering over him, his eyes breaking contact with hers as she sits down next to him. There’s a pregnant pause, but it doesn’t last for long because Kiri is already opening her mouth to speak.

“What is troubling you?” She asks, forcing Neteyam to turn his back to her so that she can place the headpiece onto him properly. He inhales deeply, then exhales.

“I do not know…I saw (your name) earlier and…” Kiri hums, encouraging him to continue, “and—she had this strange look on her face.”

“Look? What do you mean? Was she angry? Sad?”

“I have never seen it before, sister. She usually looks happy when she sees me…but this look was different,” his voice is almost inaudible when he finishes. Kiri ponders for a bit, tilting her head as if she were mentally putting the puzzle pieces together.

“How come you did not speak to her?” Kiri makes her final adjustments to the headpiece, ushering Neteyam to meet her eyes.

“I was going to…I tried to, but Tsimandi found me before I could,” he fiddles with his fingers. Kiri takes note of his disposition, and she frowns empathetically. Clearly, whatever was going on with you two was something you had to work out together. This wasn’t like either of you!

“But it was not just today either,” he continues, “she has been distancing herself for awhile, have you noticed?” She laughs at this, nodding her head.

“Yes, she has been acting a little strange lately. I think I might know what is troubling her, brother,” the girl takes his hand into her own. “But I cannot tell you. This is something that concerns only she and you…”

Neteyam squints his eyes in confusion, muttering a ‘what’. His mouth opens to speak but he is swiftly interrupted upon Jake and Neytiri’s arrival. He looks to Kiri for some clarification but all she says is: ‘go, go, you have a feast to attend’, followed with a, ‘find her later’.

“Well? Come on, the people won’t wait for your blue ass all day will they?” Jake teases. Neytiri slaps his arm, scolding him playfully.

“Ah, my son, my beautiful son,” she pads to where he stands, taking his face into her hands. “It is time to go, we must celebrate you.”

Jake nods, flashing a quick wink of approval. Together, they all walk out of the tent and through the village where they’re instantly greeted with colorful luminescence, loud music, and food. All things that have been so generously prepared for him. By the time they make it down to the Tree of Souls, everyone halts their cheering to hear what Jake has to say.

“Tonight we eat,” a pause, “in honor of Neteyam’s mighty victory!” Jake grabs his eldest son’s hand, raising it in the air. “He led his first attack against the Sky People and made it back without any casualties!” A sudden roar of praise erupts from the crowd.

Everyone is chanting his name, and clapping, but even amidst all this praise, he can’t help but to think about you. What does all of this matter if you’re not here to celebrate with him?

You’ve been by his side since the two of you could walk, so where are you now? The thought saddens him, but he can’t wear his heart on his sleeve tonight. Not when there’s so many people here just for him.

“For the past 20 years, my son has always been just a boy to me. But now I realize…he is a man—and he has proven himself in front of the eyes of Eywa,” The former marine glances down at his son, eyeing him in admiration. “Enough talking, let us feast!”

Laughter and songs fill the warm, breezy nighttime air. It’s been about two hours since the celebration commenced, and Neteyam has just about made his rounds to every important family.

He smiles warmly as he looks at the scene in front of him: children playing and dancing by the fireside, putting on elaborate performances for the adults still filling their bellies full of food. Everyone is lively—happy, a testament to tonight’s success.

Mo’at is pleased by this especially, she tells him that ‘this is what the people needed’—you know, to boost morale. At some point, when nobody is watching, he slips away from the party to walk around. Unbeknownst to him, someone has seen him.

“Getting tired?” a voice questions from the shadows. Out comes Kiri, revealing herself from behind a leaf.

“Yes, exhausted actually,” he jokes, disconnecting his braid from his direhorse. “No, but I need to find (your name). She has not come back and it is dark.”

“I figured you would leave early, that’s why I covered your ass and told Dad you were not feeling well,” the feline-like girl smirks.

“Do you have an idea where she might be?”

Kiri takes a moment before answering, “I’m not sure…but for some reason, I have a hunch that she’s at the old shack,” Neteyam furrows his brows in confusion.

“Why do you think she’s there?” he queries, “I mean, it is forbidden.” Kiri offers him a shrug.

“I don’t know but if you’re going to find her, do it now while dad still thinks you’re not feeling well.”

With that, he thanks her for the intel and mounts his horse, disappearing into the thick of the forest. On the way there, his mind conjures up just about every possible scenario that might explain your absence.

Were you upset with him? Did he do something or say something that you didn’t like? He wishes he could just read your thoughts because right now, his heart is pounding so rapidly within the confines of his chest, that he thinks it’ll explode.

This wasn’t like you two, everything was always so easygoing. Being with you was easy, like breathing. But this? His heart couldn’t handle this. Yeah, there’s been some distance between the two of you recently but not due to his own volition—it was duty. If he could spend every second of his life by your side, just being kids, laughing with you, playing with you, he would.

He’s trying to recount these last few days, weeks—months. Trying to pinpoint when exactly things got like this between you…pinpoint when you stopped smiling at him with that smile that made his head all fuzzy, and his heart race like a kid running for the first time.

“Ah, everything’s going to shit, buddy,” he sighs, rubbing the side of his horse, “I don’t know what is wrong.” His mammalian companion grunts empathetically, stopping in its tracks at the edge of the forest when it sees the abandoned link shack. Neteyam doesn’t bother scolding her, because even the animals know that this place is forbidden.

“Alright, I will see you later, okay? Stay here,” he pats her, disconnecting the bond. From this distance, he can see that there seems to be some sort of light illuminating from inside the shack.

That alone already confirms Kiri’s hunch. The closer he gets, the more his stomach feels uneasy. He doesn’t even know why he’s nervous, but he attempts to ease his mind (and body) by telling himself that it’s only you. He’s talked to you one on one hundreds of times, so what’s the difference now?

Noises in the distance rouse you from your ephemeral repose. When you stand up, your head spins with the room, causing you to instinctively reach out for the nearest surface available. Whatever was outside had better be non-threatening, because you were not in the condition to be fighting—let alone standing. When you were drunk like this, you couldn’t even hurt a fly.

“Fuck, I’m gonna have the worst headache soon,” you huff quietly, still aware that there might be someone or something outside. The noise is getting closer, and you’re running out of time to find a hiding spot.

Quickly, you grab the closest thing you can to defend yourself (which is literally a jar of glow worms), and crouch down below the window. When you lift your head just enough to see outside, the makings of a silhouette cloud your vision.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you whisper-yell, tightening your hold on the jar. Lifting your head up again, you notice that the figure is not in the spot it was previously. Then, the knob to the shack twists, and now it’s opening, and—

“(Your name)?”

You pause your attack, slowly dropping your hand (that’s holding the jar) to your side. A flood of relief washes over you once you register who the voice belongs to. Rising from the ground, you open the door fully to see Neteyam standing in the doorway.

“I almost killed you, you know!” you raise the jar, pulling him inside of the shack.

“I think it would take more than a jar of worms to kill me,” he teases. Rolling your eyes, you continue ushering him further inside, leading him to an area where you can sit and talk.

“What…what are you doing here?” you finally ask, folding your arms across your chest. Neteyam towers over you from this height, so he accommodates you by dropping to his haunches.

“I was worried about you,” the boy confesses, “what are you doing here? Why were you not at the feast?” Suddenly, you don’t really feel like talking anymore. Even though the adrenaline from before was still pumping through your veins, so was the alcohol in your system. You’re not so sure you’d be able to keep your composure long enough to answer without exposing your truest feelings. So, you decide on deflecting.

“Aren’t you the man of the hour? I think you should go back to the party before daddy throws a fit. We both know how he gets when his perfect little son isn’t at his every beck and call…” As soon as the words spill from your tongue, you wince. It came out meaner than you meant, and the last thing you wanted was to give him shit for being a caring friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—I didn’t mean that,” you apologize, sitting down on the bed. All he does is sigh, but he takes this opportunity to enter your space, gets all close until his body is nestled between your legs.

“I know…I know, but I want you to tell me what’s wrong, hm?” his fingers lift your chin, “so I can fix it.”

“Can’t fix this, ‘Teyam,” a saltine droplet ribbons down your face. Your head is tilted up with his fingers, but you can’t even force yourself to meet his gaze. God, how pathetic did you look right now?

Here you were, inside an abandoned shack, drinking your body weight in liquor…all while a celebration was being thrown in your best friend’s honor. And for what? Because you were jealous? Because you liked him—loved him?

You knew that eventually your relationship would shift. That he’d take on his duties as the future olo’eyktan, and you’d just be his human friend he hangs with from time to time. How stupid could you be to think things would stay like this forever?

“Hey, hey, hey,” he soothes, both hands now cupping your cheeks, “don’t do that. Do not shut me out. We’re not like this, (your name), you used to always talk to me about things.”

Things. You’d talk about things. But those things were not like these things. And if he knew what things you were thinking about, the things that involved him…then you two would never talk about things again.

You’re curious, though. What if you just told him? Just told him about all the days you’ve loved him, all the nights you’ve stayed up thinking of him—all the stars you counted wishing for him? At least then, the burden of keeping such a secret would stop weighing so heavy on your heart.

“I..” a breath, “I heard a rumor.” The boy hums, encouraging you to continue. “I heard your mother has chosen her successor.”

“Is that what this is about? Why does this bother you?”

“Because you know what this means! We both know what this means, don’t be dense, ’Teyam,” you droop your head in sorrow, coaxing him to just lift it back up. Only this time, his hold on your face is a lot firmer. His eyes are fiercer.

“No. I don’t, so just tell me.”

“You’re gonna be the future olo’eyktan, and we both know that the future clan leader and the chosen tsahik are to be betrothed,” you start, “there will be no time for me! No more late night talks, no more exploring, no more secret whispers…I mean, I get it, you have duties to fulfill but…I wanna be selfish a little longer. Can’t I be selfish a little longer?”

You say the last line while meeting his gaze. You’re teary eyed and shaking, but you try your best to keep any semblance of composure you have left intact (though, it’s failing). His expression is indiscernible.

It makes you nervous. Sick. And now you’re forcing yourself not to throw up because…the realization that you just told someone your deepest, truest, most vulnerable feelings makes you physically ill.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. Forget what I jus—“

“Are you serious? You don’t get it do you?” Neteyam’s head falls forward, a little chuckle slipping past his lips. His hands leave your head and slither down to your hands. He takes them into his own, eyeing you while kissing the knuckles of each.

The act is incredibly intimate, sends white-hot electricity down the column of your spine. Renders you speechless. All you can do is sit there, too scared that if you move or speak, you’ll shatter into a million little pieces.

“I have duties, yes…but my heart is already spoken for. Always has been.”

“What are you saying, ’Teyam,” your head snuggles into the warmth of his hand. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you want to hear him say—

“I see you,” he whispers in your ear, “you are my most beloved.” The warmth of his breath tingles the shell of your ear, it takes the strength of a thousand men to not scream.

But in this moment? In this moment you want to kiss him. You want to kiss him silly, actually, but you quickly remember the thing on your face preventing your lips from connecting with his. There are truly evil forces conspiring against you.

“I want to kiss you,” you admit solemnly.

“Oh, you don’t know how many nights I’ve spent dreaming about kissing you. Too many,” he jokes, “but I’m afraid if we remove this, you’ll die.”

“Then you don’t have to kiss my lips,” a silence, “you can kiss me anywhere you’d like. Anywhere.”

His green eyes flitter between your face and your body, and then his hands are on you, forcing you to lay back against the bed. You lift your head up and lean back onto your elbows, watching through lust-filled eyes as he begins his ministrations.

He starts from the bottom, works his way up real slowly—too slowly. He’s showing restraint, and while you appreciate the fact that he’s worshiping your body like a devoted follower worships their deity, you want him to ravage you. To eat you up until there’s nothing left but bones.

“’Teyam, please…” you breathe out impatiently. Like the cocky-brat he is, he ignores your pleas, only laughing into your skin.

“Shh, be calm.” The plush of his lips trail up the plains and pastures of your body, up your calves, your thighs (he spends the most time there), and then comes to a stop at the crest of your breasts. His fingers fiddle with the cloth covering your chest, lightly tracing the edges that rest just beneath your mounds.

A tease is what he is. And you didn’t have the time for a tease, so you figured you’d help speed up the process by removing it. Sitting up, you untie the makeshift top and let it fall to your lap, smirking deviously as if you’ve done something so naughty.

“Thought I’d help you,” you grin, wrapping your hands around his neck, “Please, no more going slow…I think we’ve been going slow for twenty years, don’t you think?”

And he gets the hint, once again resuming his assault on your body, but this time with more fervor. More urgency. He’s kissing you everywhere, licking wet stripes over your chest, and leaving love bites in the places where he’s kissed you. Right now he’s acting on his most basic, primal instincts—he’s claiming you as his mate—in the only way he knows how to.

The feeling of his hands on your neck, back, thighs and waist send you into oblivion. But then his hands are creeping up to your tits, deft fingers twisting and kneading, and oh god, you’re seeing stars. The addition of his mouth doesn’t help either.

“You’re so,” a kiss, “beautiful,” a suck, “perfect.” Neteyam kneads one breast while his mouth works on another. He plops down onto a pert nipple, using his tongue to draw circles around the area, his saliva acting as a salve.

A moan (that comes out more like a disgruntled sigh) vacates your throat, and his eyes widen in excitement. The sight of his tail swaying in the background makes you giggle. Cute, you think.

Even though what the two of you were doing wasn’t innocent, you couldn’t help but to feel all giddy. Reaching a hand out, you place a gentle palm on the side of his face.

You trace the contours of his nose, his cheekbones, smooth over his jaw, and then stop at his lips. Your thumb grazes them, first the top, then the bottom—learning. Committing them to memory, how they look, feel, and move under your thumb.

Neteyam is unmoving while you continue to run your finger across his lips—save for his hand, which slowly begins traveling south to your thighs. Experimentally, you push your thumb inside of his mouth, pressing the digit down on his tongue before tracing his cat-like canines. This moment is particularly special, because now it’s you who’s doing the admiring.

The free hand that’s not inching towards your core, skillfully removes the loin cloth around your hips. Immediately, he’s met with your bare sex. It’s smooth—wet, so incredibly wet that it has his cock twitching, and his hands eager to touch you. He wants to taste you. Feel you, all of you.

“I—,” a slender finger rubs your slit, “mmf, see you,” you mewl, cupping his cheek. Neteyam’s eyes widen, he wants to hear you make that sound again…and again, and again, and—

The boy repeats the action. Watches your abs flex and tremble from the touch, and your thighs close in on his arm. Using the other hand, he gently pulls them apart and leaves three open-mouthed kisses: one on your inner thigh, one on another, and then a final one at the top of your mound. The heat from his nostrils make you full body shiver; suddenly, being the only one completely bare is slightly bothering you.

“Do not cover yourself. I want to see you,” his hand finds your cunt again, a long finger pushing into you ever so slowly, “…want to hear those sweet sounds again.”

A soft sigh leaves your lips as you watch his digit push further into you, the drag of a knuckle against your slick walls aiding in the pleasure. You can’t help but to wince at the intrusion, because shit, this was a lot more than what you were used to—using your fingers, that is.

You also suppose penetration would be off the table considering humans and Na’vi were never meant to mate, but it doesn’t prevent you from fantasizing about it anyway. How big was it? Did he touch himself? Use his hands and picture yours?

The thought of him hunching over, rubbing one out, all slick with sweat and pre has your head all dizzy. Your mouth is practically salivating at the mental image you’ve conjured up in your head of him fucking your face, but you know it would never fit. There really are evil forces conspiring against you…

Neteyam’s finger reaching the hilt brings you back down to reality. A forceful thrust that coaxes you to gasp sharply and grab his forearm. After patiently waiting for you to adjust to his size, he begins to move. He sets a steady rhythm, pulling out slowly, then pushing back into you with the same velocity.

Eventually, his movements become less hesitated, and more calculated. Instead of steady and slow, he begins increasing the pace of his thrusts, then graduates from speed to incorporating force.

Every delve of his finger, every deliberate drag and prod has fire pooling in the depths of your belly. Squelches and whimpers ricochet off of the metal walls, and fuck, his dick won’t stop twitching.

It’s grown considerably harder in these past few minutes, and all from just hearing you vocalize your pleasure. When the stretch stops feeling like a stretch, and starts feeling like a ‘give me more’, that’s when you encourage him to add another. And of course, he indulges you.

The same time he pushes another finger in, is the same time he starts rubbing himself. He’s not even really aware of it at first, it’s mindless. He’s just so entranced by you, and the sounds you’re making, the things you’re saying, the way your cunt’s sucking in his fingers—

Fuck. He just finished all over himself. He doesn’t let that deter him though, keeps fingering you through his post-orgasm, taking care of you until you come undone on his fingers.

And the sight is amazing, he can’t stop gawking at the way your hole flutters around him, and the nectar-like liquid that drips down the length of his fingers and onto the bed. He wants to taste it.

“Can I taste you?” he asks. You’re in such a daze that the question doesn’t even register, suddenly too preoccupied with breathing like you’ve forgotten how to.

“Huh? Wha—ohhhh.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. He concentrates the tip at the bottom, lapping at the essence that leaks from there, and then circles back to your puffy bud. Experimentally, he prods it with his fingers, rubbing it in tantalizingly slow circles.

The combination of his tongue and his fingers almost feel overwhelming, you feel like a puppet on a marionette with the way he’s maneuvering your legs around for better access. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was a starved man.

His mouth is slick with drool, and his hands are pressing down so firmly onto your thighs, that you’re sure a handprint will be there for you to discover in the morning. His tongue feels so good on you, so nasty.

The picture is obscene, unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed before. But the thing that’s really getting to you are the sounds he’s making. Grunts and groans, expletives and mumbles. ‘So good’, ‘perfect’, ‘beautiful’…it has your head spinning and your fists gripping for the sheets beneath you.

There’s a knot in your abdomen pulled taut like a string of twine. You can feel it twisting and pulling, ready to come undone at the drop of a pin. The more he works on your slit, the more the temperature rises in the shack.

Was the room always spinning? Did your body always run this hot? It feels like you’ve been thrown into a furnace, and the only source of coolness is the wetness that his tongue provides.

“‘M gonna, mmf, ’s too much!” you jab at his hand in an attempt to push him away. He’s relentless though, still sucking harshly, and teasing, ramming his thick fingers up against your gummy walls.

It feels different than when you touch yourself, more intense. Like something’s sitting heavy on your bladder. Then, snap. The string in your abdomen unravels, bringing forth a flood of ecstasy.

“’Teyam!” you sob, back arching to the ceiling. When he pulls his fingers out, a stream of clear liquid seeps from your cunt. He’s awestruck, staring in admiration as your sweat kissed chest rises and falls rhythmically.

“Look, your legs are shaking,” he points, biting down a laugh, “why are they shaking?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you feign offense, pushing him backwards with a chuckle. He pretends to be wounded, rubbing his back dramatically, ‘oohing’ and ‘owing’ as he does so. When you finally sit up, your eyes naturally fall to his loincloth, a wet ringlet contrasting starkly against the beige textile.

“Hey…” your voice is hesitant, but teetering on the edge of curiosity, “Can I try something?”

The boy silently nods his approval, shifting his position on the ground when you amble over to him. A look of confusion molds onto his face following the events that involve you plopping down onto his lap and laying him down. He goes to speak but you interrupt him.

“Your turn, right? Can’t put it in, but…I can still make you feel good,” you say, tugging on the piece of fabric that separates your sex from his. Eagerly, he removes it for you and lets the item fall haphazardly to the ground.

It’s big, so big—and pretty too. A beautiful blue hue that matches the rest of his body, paired along with a blushing teal tip that’s oozing pre. You want to know what he tastes like on your tongue…

“So pretty.”

Heat rises to his cheeks, and his tail takes an aquiline form, quivering in rapid movements. His usual, over-confident disposition was slowly dissipating under your intense gaze, and you reveled in it by mocking his bashfulness.

“Awe, the little kitty’s shy,” you mock, tickling his side.

“Stop it, I don’t look like those Earth things,” he laughs, pushing your hand away, but to no avail. You continue to dodge his attempts to stop you, tickling him here and there until he accidentally bucks and pulls you down against him. Embarrassingly, you let a whine fall from your lips…still too sensitive down there, you guess.

There’s a shit-eating grin plastered on his face now, you hate it. “Who’s making noises like a kitty now, huh?” With this, he takes the liberty to do it again, pressing you down hard against his length.

The feeling of your bare cunt against him is electrifying, probably (definitely) not better than him being inside you, but the next best thing. This was supposed to be your thanks to him. But now he’s taken full charge—maneuvering you back and forth, gripping and kneading—it’s cruel.

For someone who’s never mated with anyone in his life, he’s sure moving you around like he has. His hands are all over you—thighs, hips, waist, breasts, it’s almost overwhelming. Every touch, addled with the buck of hips, brings forth a new sensation that is better than the last. You think this would be a good way to go out, right on his cock. One last hurrah before the morbid inevitable.

“You f-feel so good, (your name),” his voice is breathy, “r-really good.” Neteyam’s grip on your arms is vice, partly because he can feel his climax approaching, but mostly because he can tell you’re growing tired.

Swiftly, he changes your positions to where you’re laying on your back and he’s crouching over you. The tip of his head smoothes over your folds when he pushes up, and before he draws back, you can see just about where his dick would rest if he were inside of you.

“I’d be all the way up here,” he presses down just beneath your breastbone, “you’re so tiny.” It sounds so dirty, but you know ultimately he’s just making an observation—regardless, the comment has your stomach churning in excitement.

The both of you watch in fascination as he sheathes himself up and over your cunt, moaning in unison when the tip of his mushroomy head catches against your bud. Euphoric, he thinks. He never imagined that something could feel this good, let alone without connecting bonds.

Still sensitive from earlier, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your peak. Neteyam knows that your arrhythmic breathing is a tell-tale sign, and he helps you get there by cooing words of encouragement.

He goes back and forth between ’I got you’s and ‘it’s okay’s, leaving trails of kisses down your body in his wake. The second you finish, you’re pulling him down onto you tight. Moaning and whining into his ear, whispering those same words of encouragement that he whispered to you prior.

“So good, ‘Teyam,” you claw at his back, “keep going, want you to feel good too.” And he does. Unrelenting in his attack against your sex, he comes with a few more pistons.

You eagerly welcome him into your arms when he drops from exhaustion, and hold him there until your erratic breaths synchronize. The both of you are disgustingly sweaty and sticky, but even so, you feel at peace.

You bask in the tranquil quietness of the night, just staring at each other. Soft caresses and soothing hums. Then, Neteyam speaks.

“On this fateful night, two hearts danced…” he whispers, grabbing your hand to hold it over his heart.

“What does this mean?” you smile at him. He ponders over it and then explains.

“My songcord…I want to tell this story,” he starts, “the night when two hearts became one.”

A crystal droplet cascades down your face, “that sounds beautiful.”

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