#the rest of the commanders have a running bet

[ronearoundblindly]

No Promises (2)

Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

Don't Be Blue, Bunny Boy (see previous or LH Masterlist)

Summary: Lloyd underestimates how dangerous you are when he finds you wrapped like a gift in his hotel room.

Warnings for smut, but it's Lloyd so there's a knife, a gun, name-calling, cursing, drugging, dubcon due to somno, two a**holes in competition, unprotected sex (honestly, just never do anything Lloyd would do, okay? great. excellent. good chat), and possibly the best banter I've ever written gdi. Darkfic...but, like, funny??? For the love of everything, MINORS DNI. I have plenty else for you on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2k 🫣

*This CT 2024 Challenge work can be read completely out-of-context from the rest of the mini-series (which isn't even written yet anyway, lalalahhhh).

It’s bad enough you took the keycard off that fat fuck of a target first, but failing to follow you smacks Lloyd’s ego in just the wrong way. By the time he gets back to his luxurious hotel room, he’s fuming and itching to shoot something. You don’t need to be a mind-reader to know this; the man is still a man, after all, no matter how trained and controlled he thinks he is.

That’s why you’re here, trussed up in a sapphire blue bodysuit, smirking at the irritation radiating off of your rival as his eyes rake the length of your mostly-bare figure.

“Darling,” you burst, posing like a ‘50s housewife by the armchair, playful and sickeningly sweet. “You’re home! I was so worried.”

Anger quivers his lip coat till he vaguely resembles a pouting porcupine. God, you hate mustaches. You’re willing to bet—if you really put your back into it—you could hump his face with such friction, it’d rub him smooth. There are less-worthwhile endeavors that you’ve completely only today. Why not experiment?

“You have some fucking nerve, bitch.”

Lloyd keeps his steps forward into the room slow and casual, though his ire is obvious. He stops halfway across the carpet, unzips his leather jacket, and tosses it onto the foot of the bed.

He seems surprised when you strut over without hesitation; he hasn’t handed over any weapons, but you haven’t asked for a reason. Lloyd’s reputation is cocky, commanding, and curious—in that order—so he won’t start speculating till it’s too late.

Indeed, what possible harm could you inflict wearing this lil’ ol’ thing, huh?

As you get closer, his hand reaches out instinctually.

“Ah, ah, ah,” you tsk in warning. “If you rip my lace, I will gut you like a fish. Understood?”

“Can’t make any promises, but…”

Lloyd, undeterred, clamps his hand between your legs and runs a finger through your folds, proving the crotchless lingerie isn’t in danger of typical snags.

The pad of his digit is rough and teasing.

“I think we can work with that,” he growls.

Oh yes, he’s definitely, perfectly, and predictably cocky. What fun you’ll have.

You make a show of gasping when he starts dipping two fingers into your heat, rolling your head as if truly undone by the minimal effort, and wait for him to watch his own ministrations, distracted.

Then you strike.

You grab his wrist, twisting harshly, yanking the arm behind him, straddling his shoulders so your legs pinch over his neck, and he turns slightly to nip at your thigh. You’re not surprised he still thinks he’ll win.

His steely eye winks as he looks up.

“Bet I can make you cum first.”

A dramatic sigh escapes you. You release his arm to sensually smooth your palm down his body, bending to whisper, “that implies I give a shit if you come at all.”

You fling yourself backwards, using the momentum to catapult him over you and into the side of the bed.

The mustache emphasizes his sneer when Lloyd pushes up on an elbow.

“I, too, like using a firm hand when breaking bitches’ spirits,” he mutters, reaching for his switchblade which you present instead, wiggling it in your hand with a grin.

“Oh, bunny boy, were you too firm to notice my gentle caress?” You deftly unlatch and expose the knife’s edge. “Now, strip.”

You tick the blade quickly for effect.

“Show me some skin so I can mark my two points so far. I know how you love to keep score.”

Lloyd rights himself, peeling his black turtleneck over his head and smoothing his hair into place calmly. “I can kill you just as easily naked as I can clothed.”

“Of course, cutie pie, and I’m counting on many little deaths.” You look at the knife in your hand, concerned. “Please tell me this isn’t the biggest weapon you're packing, or I’ll be so disappointed.”

He’s smug while unbuckling his belt and shucking off his pants. Lloyd Hansen now proudly stands stark nude.

You let your eyes go comically wide, but then your brow furrows and you shrug.

“You’re welcome to keep talking while I sit on your face, but otherwise… I’m unimpressed.”

Lloyd huffs with indignation.

“Fuck you.”

Like the footballer he used to be, he rushes you.

“Promise?” you coo, dodging him and landing a sharp smack to his butt cheek. It’s spectacularly sculpted, plump, and rock hard all at once.

“Oh my! Darling, you did not lead with your best asset…” You notice the faint scar on his pale skin and giggle. “Little prick got pricked, I see.”

Your amusement gives him a split second to grab you, and Lloyd uses the opportunity to shove you back into the window so violently the thick glass rattles its frame.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he spits viciously, not so cocky as before.

“Isn’t that what I’ve been begging you to do for me, sweetheart?”

Mouth hanging open in a taunt, one hand strokes him, the other warns. The tip of the knife you still wield barely grazes the notch between ribs where you could swiftly puncture his lung. Lloyd watches, fuming and mesmerized, until you transfer the pooling saliva to your palm and resume jerking his cock.

“A firm hand really does make you harder, doesn’t it?”

That snaps him out of it.

He scrambles to bend you over that same armchair you started at, and Lloyd’s version of prep is a single, perfunctory dig of two fingers into your cunt.

To his credit, you are dripping wet for him, so, though his need to check before chaffing himself wasn’t necessary, he rewards you with a beautifully debauched moan as he sinks to the hilt with one thrust.

Lloyd’s got something to prove.

Good.

He’s so focused on groping around to your breasts beneath the stretchy lace that you stick the switchblade deep into the chair’s cushion and hold on; whatever else you’re doing is irrelevant to him. There is only fucking. There is only feeling as if he owns you in this moment.

You let out a high whine and goad him. “Love it when you’re gentle with me, sweetie.”

That earns you an unhinged snarl and the pummeling slap of his hips against your thighs.

He’s so easy to motivate, a majestic maniac on a mission to turn you stupid, if only until the stench of sex dissipates. If the idiot would just reach down to your clit, you’d spare him, but Lloyd is a man.

A selfish, egotistical princeling who’s a good marksman and a shit human. Good, for the business you two are in. But not as good as you.

You sigh like you’re bored, sinking your chin to rest on your outstretched arms.

He stops moving, grunting as he pulls out of you and snapping one of your shoulder straps.

“Fine. You wanna put in the work, sunshine? You go for it.” Lloyd flops onto the bed, face up, his arms spread wide and high.

Of course, he’s going for the gun under the pillow. You know it, you’ve anticipated it, and you decided it would be a nice safety blanket to leave him, to keep him feeling comfortable.

So you crawl on top of him anyway, rocking yourself against his cock for a few seconds before shifting higher. You giggle for emphasis.

You’re just here to fuck him. You’re just here to fuck with him. That’s the truth, and he knows it. Lloyd simply doesn’t know the conditions of both your releases…yet.

“Such a desperate slut,” he rumbles as you settle above his face.

Before you cover your view of him, you pinch at his jaw and smirk.

“Only munches wear a fucking mustache.”

His cheek gets a condescending pat when he smiles back.

He’s cute when he’s having fun, apparently.

Lloyd licks his lips and slowly lifts his head to swipe at your entrance. “You owe me that fucking keycard.” He delicately kisses your folds before his tongue darts out to circle your clit. “And I’ll get it from you one way or another.”

You can hear the rustle of his hand over the sheet. Not even a solid suck on your cunt, and he’s already going for the gun…

“Oh, come on,” you plead, ignoring his threat. “Finish your meal, champ. I know you can do it.”

His eyes narrow, peeking past your mound as he growls, gripping your thighs hard enough for you to collapse forward.

Sloppy. The best word to describe Lloyd eating pussy is sloppy. He contributes as much as you do to the glide of his whole face over every intimate inch of skin. Because you’re sitting with weight mostly on him—some of it still rests on your knees—each movement pushes his nose, lips, tongue, and stache around with enough fervor to polish your raw nerves.

Honestly, it’s a shame he ruins the moment by slipping his hand under the pillow and pressing the silencer's muzzle to your side.

Petulance dialed to maximum, you whimper, “you said I could come first!”

Your hand falls below your navel, clutching the lace like he’s already wounded you, and Lloyd proceeds to laugh right into your cunt.

He doesn’t have time to form a comeback once you peel the sheer, protective layer away from the patch of fabric a mere inch above the opening of the bodysuit. If he’d have paid any proper attention to you, he’d’ve found it, but he didn’t.

The fumes of chloroform-drenched cobalt engulf Lloyd in the suffocating proximity of the bed and your body. He has nowhere to go but under.

The gun falls away once his limbs go lax.

You sit directly on his chest for the few seconds it takes to realign the inner and outer barriers of your dainty, chemical warfare, then you shimmy off of him.

He actually looks quite peaceful this way.

His features are carefree, his broad, smooth chest rises and falls steadily, and his…

Well.

Lloyd’s dick lays erect and proud on his stomach, unfazed by unconsciousness. It’d be an even greater shame to waste that.

“It’s ok, peanut,” you whisper out of habit now, forced to imagine the twitch of his lip, the pop of the vein in his neck. “This is your chance to make it up to me.”

It’s not difficult to take him into your still-sopping core, and once you angle yourself to grind on the cut of his abs, all Lloyd’s previous buildup rushes back. His ass may be the star of the show, but his dick is no fluffer act. He’s packing enough to nudge at that perfect spot relentlessly as you ride him, and you openly mewl as you approach the height of your orgasm.

You imagine he’d say you sound so pretty and pathetic.

He’d probably ask if this is the best you can do, but that makes you fuck him harder until you crash into a wall of pleasure, sweaty, exhausted, resting against that broad chest.

You catch your breath after a short while, skin humming with excitement. Absently, your hands paw at his sides for a tiny bit of comfort.

That thought gets buried in a tense heartbeat, and you climb off the bed, pleased to notice the sheer amount of cum and his softening dick means he finished, too.

You’ll leave that as a souvenir.

The plan was to carve a little message on him—nothing that would permanently scar—but you can’t bring yourself to mar such a glorious ass. That would be akin to treason. Seriously, if he had simply walked around you in a bathing suit with that thing, you would have slipped the keycard into his waistband and thanked him for his service to your wet dreams.

A bit of dried cum smeared all over his pelvis and dripping down his balls, his useless pistol still in-hand, will do fine as a statement.

You clean yourself up, snatching your real clothes from the closet where you hung them tidily beside his own, and give a gentle grip to his immobile knee where it hangs off the bed.

“Sweet dreams, bunny boy. Maybe I'll let you win next time.”

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

This work was written for the amazing and inspirational Cum Together Extravaganza hosted by @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420, but a special thanks to @buckymorelikefuckme for the earworm that would not quit. Poppy, you dark enabler you... I fucking love you!

Prompts: "Bet I can make you cum first." || Somnophilia || enemies-to-lovers || Characters A + B cum together at the same time

dividers by @/saradika-graphics (blue art deco) and @/cafekitsune

#CT 2024 raffle entry #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen fanfiction #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen smut #dark fic #dark!lloyd hansen #or is this soft? #i can't even tell anymore 😣 #ct 2024 #engagement challenge

[oliversrarebooks]

listen to my Voice, hero

TW: mind control, hypnotic induction, intimate whumper, restraints, corruption

Are your bonds comfortable, Hero? I wouldn't want to cause any damage to your precious muscles and nerves. You are the city's shining hope, after all. Or at least, you have been until now.

Good, now we can have a proper chat. You can just listen carefully to everything I have to say. 

Oh, don't glare at me like that. How many times have we clashed now? And every time you manage to resist my lovely compelling Voice just enough to stop my plans, just enough so that I must escape by the skin of my teeth. You must have known it might come to this eventually, a time when my compulsions are too strong for you to fight, a time when my Voice finally brings you to your knees.

I've been training, dear hero, training especially for you. Training for you, because you're really the only one in this city worth controlling. You're better than all of them. We both know that. And I know how you feel about me, because I've seen the look in your eyes when my compulsions take hold of your pretty little mind.

No, no, be quiet. Be quiet.That's it, there you are. Oh, the delicious expression on your face when I use my Voice on you. I'll never get enough of it.

Most heroes look terrified, you know, to have their thoughts pulled out from under them, to find their body out of their control. Terrified, angry, defiant -- that's how the other heroes look. But you're different. In that moment when I weave my spell on you, when you feel your mind go hazy and your body stop obeying your commands, I see something else in your eyes. I see relief. Deep, unmistakable relief.

No, don't try to deny it. I've tangled with you too many times to be wrong about this. You're relieved when I compel you. You'd never admit it, not even to yourself, but you long for the way it feels. You long to have your choices taken away. You long to not have to make decisions. You long to not have to fight any more.

But every time, you fight. Every time, you break free of my Voice. And I can see the toll it takes on you. That's why I've been training so hard, Hero. So that you couldn't resist my Voice, wouldn't be able to break free. So that I could give you what you want more than anything. 

I've seen you, Hero. I've seen you at your best and at your lowest, haven't I? I understand you better than anyone else in the city. You know it's true. And I can see how exhausted you are. How you've been worked to the bone. How you never get to rest, never get a vacation. I even tried cutting back on my evil schemes in the hopes that you'd take a break, but all you did was pursue other villains twice as hard. 

There are deep bags under your eyes, Hero, marring your beautiful face. There's resignation in your tone that was never there before. I can't stand it, can't stand the way the city treats you. You're destroying yourself to save this ungrateful, useless population and all they do is criticize you. It makes me sick.

And I know what you do once you've defeated me and I escape back to my lair. I know you return to your cold, empty apartment, and curl up on the couch with some convenience food, trying to relax. I know how you toss and turn at night, wondering if you're doing the right thing. I know how lonely you are, Hero. I'm lonely too, you know.

I wish you could see how glassy and dazed your eyes are right now. It's beautiful. Listening to my Voice is so nice, isn't it? Yes, that's it, just relax.

Oh, your hair is so soft. I bet you haven't had a tender touch like this in a while. I saw you lean into it before you caught yourself. Let me run my hand through your hair, there's a good, relaxed hero. Is that a sleepy little smile I see? You like that, don't you?

In fact, you like all of this, don't you? You like having no choice but to relax and listen as my compelling Voice weaves a spell around you. You like the feeling as I slowly hypnotize your vulnerable mind, how your resistance slips away little by little. You've thought about this on those lonely nights, haven't you? What it would feel like if I won. What it would feel like to succumb to my hypnotic compulsions. What it would feel like if you stopped fighting and let me take charge of your mind completely.

Oh, don't struggle. Don't struggle. Relax.There it is again, that relief. My Voice feels good, doesn't it? It feels so good to have the fight taken out of you. Don't deny it, it's written all over your face.

You don't need to pretend you haven't thought about it. You somehow manage to always be the first hero on the scene whenever I try anything. Almost as if you're willing to drop anything to see me, isn't it?

But you were scared. I'm a villain, after all. I don't deny it. You must think I might hurt or humiliate you. Well, you can put all of your fears to rest, because I have no intention of that. I respect you far too much. I'm going to take good care of you, Hero. I'm going to give you the treatment you deserve. I'm going to help you relax. I'm going to take all your worries away.  It's going to feel amazing, Hero, I promise.

I'm sorry, were you trying to say something just now? Still trying to fight it? You'll have to speak up, it's too hard to hear you when you're so out of it.

"It's wrong"? Is that what you said, Hero?

No, what's wrong is how little reward you get for everything you do. That's why I had to do this, had to train my Voice to be strong enough to be irresistible even to you. Now I can reward you. I can give you everything you want, everything you need, beginning with the beautiful, relaxing oblivion of total and complete obedience.

You'll get other rewards, too, of course you will. Together we'll share in the riches of the city, bend everyone in power to our wills. It's what we both deserve. But this is your first and most important reward -- obedience. Nothing is more calm, relaxing, and peaceful than knowing you have no choice, than having every decision made for you.

And all you have to do is listen. 

I'm too strong for you now, Hero, my Voice too compelling. You're almost entirely under my spell, aren't you? I can see how drowsy you are, how my compulsions are putting your conscious mind to sleep.

Yes, that's it. You're too exhausted, Hero. Too tired. Too many nights with too little sleep. You need to rest. You need to stop fighting. You need to surrender.

No one will think any less of you. They'll see how powerful I've become, how easily I can command even the strongest and smartest. They'll realize you had no choice, that it was out of your hands. You won't need to feel guilt or shame. Everyone will know this wasn't your fault, that there was nothing you could do to prevent yourself falling under my villainous control. 

And the fact that you actually enjoy this, the fact that you long to give in so badly and fall under my hypnotic trance? That can be our little secret, Hero.

There we go. That's it, just a little more. Look into my eyes. Look nice and deep into my eyes while I stroke your hair and talk you down softly. Just like you've always dreamed of. No more fear, no more pain. Only sweet restful sleep and deep hypnotic trance. 

That's it, Hero. It's too late. You're too tired, too drowsy, too captured in my Voice to fight it. There's nothing to do. Nothing you have to do. Just feel yourself growing oh so dazed and sleepy as I weave my Voice around you. So comforting. So right. Exactly what you wanted. Exactly what you needed. Exactly where you belong. 

Tell me, Hero, tell me you want this.

That's it, that's it! Oh, how I've longed to hear those words from you. Tell me how my Voice makes you feel. Be honest.

Oh. Oh, my. That's... that's even better than I expected. Far, far better. You love my Voice that much? Oh, Hero, dear Hero, why didn't you say so before? You could have had this any time. I would have been more than happy to bring you to my lair and give you the hypnosis you deserve. You could have been listening to my Voice all day.

Well, it doesn't matter now, because now you can have my Voice all you want, stronger than it's ever been. Isn't that nice? Oh, look at you bob your drowsy head. I don't even need to compel agreement out of you. You're so deeply hypnotized, aren't you? Good, good. Good hero. 

My hero.

Now, why don't you go all the way under? Just keep listening and let your eyelids grow oh so heavy. Let those heavy eyes close. Don't open them again. That's a good hero. So obedient and docile. You're so, so beautiful to me, my drowsy, docile hero. 

Yes, docile. That's what you are, deep down inside. All your strength, all your determination to do the right thing, all of that is a mask that conceals who you really are. A docile and obedient little lamb. And no one needs to know that but me. I'll fulfill your deep craving to be hypnotized and controlled, and you can still be every bit as strong and determined when you're working under my orders. Doesn't that sound just perfect for you? 

All the way under, now, deep into hypnotic trance. Let your resistance fade, my hero. Let your mind fog. Let your mental defenses fall.

Surrender. Surrender and submit. Submit to me, just like you've always wanted.

You can finally feel that relief. You can finally take that rest. Because I have you now. You're mine. I'm in complete control now, my docile little hero. 

And I order you to feel nothing but bliss.

Masterlist

If you like this, you may like "the defiant princess" for more gentle, slow induction on a resisting subject.

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whumper #hero whumpee #villain whumper #mind control #hypnosis #hypnotic induction #hypnotized #hypnotized hero #captured hero #compelling voice

[ghouljams]

Pre(tt)y [Chapter 4] Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, Soap x f!reader, grief, mistranslations, Soap is doing his best Summary: You haven't been offered a job, but you also haven't been killed yet. You meet two more vikings, and try to get some rest while you grapple with the loss of everything you've ever known.

Mactavish leads you through camp, the men around the fire glance at you and you step closer to his side. They don’t touch you, just as he promised, but that doesn’t stop them from looking. You’re led towards a tent that seems too small for the man that greets you inside. The man has to duck his head not to scrape the ceiling, his brown hair shorn short but his beard full. You keep your chin held high when he meets your eyes. There’s something commanding in his stare, something in his glare that reminds you of your father. Appraising, you think. He looks at Mactavish.

“What’s this?” He asks, the northern tongue rolls nicely with the rough timber of his voice. A viking made to be a viking. 

“The healer,” Mactavish responds easily. The other viking huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, his weight shifting to look down on the both of you.

“Believe we were looking for more than just the one,” He raises a brow.

“Aye, and you’ll never guess who found ‘em first.” Mactavish runs a hand through his hair, tugs at one of the braids to inspect. As if this is nothing. Same as the other some of the harsh lines in this viking’s face soften. He finds his anger again and spits on the floor with a word you don’t recognize. You can’t help but flinch away from his fury. The movement draws his attention again, and his eyes fix on you. 

“They any good?”

“Better than any of you,” You grumble. You may have been little more than an apprentice but you’d bet that’s more medical experience than any of these men have. Like Mactavish said, it’s better to just call yourself a healer than beat around the bush. At your side Mactavish’s fist clenches so tight you can see his knuckles turn white. If you’d hoped your gaelic was only understood by the Scot at your side you’re sorely mistaken.

The older viking grabs your face, and just as quickly Mactavish grabs his wrist. The viking seems to ignore his subordinate’s grip, studying you with cold eyes. You sniff, stand a little taller. You’re not sure why, it’s not smart staring down a viking. Some part of you hopes it’s a bad idea, hopes it’s your last idea.

“Let go,” Mactavish warns, “they’re my watch, Captain, my catch.”

You narrow your eyes at the captain. You should have known, the air of authority he carries should have tipped you off. None of these men are friend to you, not one of them. Even Mactavish calls you a catch, owns you like a carcass. You should spit in their faces, join your family in the afterlife and be done with this whole affair. 

The captain releases you and Mactavish releases him. Something wordless passes between them, some silent agreement that makes Mactavish nod. Whatever it is you don’t think it bodes well for you, like the closing of a door darkening the room you feel these men’s agreement like a chill over your skin.

“Get something to eat,” The captain advises him, “and see if any of the men need a healer. They can bunk with you tonight.”

Some of the puff seems to leave Mactavish’s shoulders, his breath releasing the tension from his form. You don’t feel the same relief. Bunking with one man is almost as bad as bunking with the rest. His joke about courting you rushes to the front of your mind, you wonder what that means for tonight. How courteous it would be for him to leave you alone. You doubt that will happen.

Mactavish’s hand touches the small of your back, and directs you out of the tent as you glare at his captain. You swat at his touch when you leave the tent, walking an extra half step ahead of him. You can feel his eyes on you, it makes your skin crawl. Is he sizing you up? Trying to gauge your next move? If you’ll run again? You doubt you’d make it with so many vikings after you. You’re about to try your luck, walking past the fire.

No luck. His fingers touch your back again, warm even through your heavy clothes. Mactavish directs you where to walk with a firm hand before he grabs your shoulder and pushes you down onto a log with a gentle, “Sit.”

It’s a command you’re loath to follow, except that the scent of food makes your stomach rumble. There’s a large pot over the fire, with some sort of stew in it. It smells rich and meaty. When’s the last time you ate? You almost thank Mactavish when he ladles a bowl for you, your hands reaching eagerly for the warm meal before stopping short. Your fingers tremble.

Just before you left home. Your mother had given you some bread and cheese, a snack to take while you were foraging. The smoke from the campfire fills your nose, a choking memory of your home. Just before the viking you’d had bread from your mother’s hand.

Your throat hurts, your chest clenching tight as tears roll softly down your face. You take the offered bowl quickly, you don’t look at Mactavish’s face. It’s a crack that splinters your heart, a weakness you can’t afford. You curl in on yourself, sip at the hot soup between your cold hands, and try to ignore the plip of your tears into the broth.

Mactavish takes a seat next to you, his hand hovers. You scoot away, towards the end of the log. The large man corner to you stiffens. You try to keep quiet in the silence that lapses, it doesn’t work well. As hard as you try to push it down you choke on a heavy sob and your hiccup is answered by a shift in the unfamiliar viking’s posture.

“Grey sky doesn’t bode well,” He says, his voice is rich and rough at the edges. You don’t think he’s talking to you, Mactavish maybe with how loud he is. You still glance at him, his eyes unreadable behind the bone mask he wears. You avert your gaze quickly.

“So you’re a Völva now?” Mactavish asks, “You know the weather?”

“Know it well enough.” The viking sniffs, leaning back with a roll of his shoulders.

“You’re full of it,” Mactavish laughs, his voice raising to meet the volume of his fellow viking. You tune out their voices as you sniffle, try to at least. They’re loud, their bickering covering your tears. Ignoring you. Of course they’re ignoring you. Why wouldn’t they? You’re a stranger, an outsider, a prisoner in their camp. You’re only here because there was no one else to steal.

You stare, fuzzy eyed, at the fire. You hiccup through your tears, trying not to dwell too much on your family, or the loneliness that settles in your bones. The vikings talk past you, over you, like you don’t exist. You might not. Not to them.

It’s strange that the thought is almost freeing. At least they aren’t watching you cry, jeering at your misfortune. Small miracles, you suppose, small kindnesses.

It’s dark by the time you finish your slow tearful dinner. The season’s chill aided by the sea breeze cuts through the wool of your earasaid. You’re almost thankful for the fur Mactavish gave you, your arms outstretched to warm you frigid fingers by the fire. The man beside you tugs his gloves off his belt and holds them out to you. You glance at the offering before turning your eyes back to the fire.

“You’re gonna lose your fingers, Vaenn.” Mactavish tells you. You tip your head, strange he’d use a nordic word alongside his Gaelic. That’s a verb isn’t it? To catch: vaen. He’s using it as a noun, or an adjective? Catch, catch, catch. Prey as its noun form, maybe. An unkind but fitting nickname you suppose. 

“Prey, huh,” The skull faced viking hums, almost teasing.

“Shut it,” Mactavish snaps, his cheeks pink from the wind’s chill. He grabs your hand and presses the gloves into it. “Healers are only as good as their hands,” He insists, “please.”

You curl your fingers around the well worn leather, soft and carefully maintained, they’re warm from his body when you tug them on.

You stop yourself from asking what he’ll do for gloves. You shouldn’t care, the less fingers he has the better. Still you can’t help looking at his hands, thick fingers and neat nails. He picks at the dirt under them, and you catch the flash of scars over his knuckles. Marks of a man at war.

Mactavish stares at the fire, the flickering light cutting shadows across his face. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he sees when he looks into the pyre. Is it the shadows that darken his eyes, or his thoughts? He doesn’t look at you, which feels- you don’t know. Desperate. Although you don’t know if it’s your desperation or his.

The skull viking stands with a creak of black leather. He pats Mactavish’s cheek when he passes him, something fond in the gesture. Casual affection that the Scott brushes off in favor of standing. All the darkness leaves his eyes when he looks at you. Like a mask, you think, when he smiles. There’s something hollow about it, something he’s pulled out of himself without any weight to it. You blink at the expression. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

“Lemme show you the tent,” He offers. You glance around the dim camp. Again you feel the need to say something, remind him that you were told to check if anyone needed medical, before you chastise yourself for even the thought. These men deserve nothing more than you’re made to give them. It’s your training that makes you think to ask, but you’re hardly employed.

“As long as you keep your hands to yourself,” You grumble.

“Of course,” Mactavish tells you with a confused look, “I wouldn’t touch you if you didn’t want it.”

You bite your tongue before you tell him he’s already touched you plenty. His hands seem so keen to brush against you, to direct you, his warmth attempting to seep into you unbidden. You keep your words to yourself, though you yearn to snap at him. There’s bitterness on your tongue, your grief finding a new name for itself with anger.

Mactavish holds the tent flap for you, and you duck under his arm. He’s quick to slip in behind you, taking up the small space as easily as his captain had. There’s a bed roll, and not much else. 

Mactavish pushes against your side in the small space, turning to drop to the ground. He crosses his legs, leaning back against the sturdy post in the center of the tent. His ax is unhooked from his belt and laid over his thick thigh. He heaves a sigh, and you feel weariness settle over his shoulders. Cold as the rolling sea and heavy as her waves. You watch him thread his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his head as he drops it forward. 

Good. You hope his choices weigh on him. You hope they crush him.

#cod x reader #x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #soap mactavish x reader #viking!soap #viking au #soap x f!reader #f!reader #this has very little romance in it #but I desperately wanted to show a touch of camp before we depart for home #medieval doctoring next chapter maybe #nobody talk to me about the darling I'm thinking up for Ghost

[planet-dusk]

🏷️ lee minho x fem!reader. cw ; dom!leeknow, throat fucking, face slapping (w cock), dacryphilia, degradation, praise, cum eating, name calling: slut, whore, pet names: kitten ( 934 w. )

minors dni. for mature audiences only !

the surroundings were different, the motions the same. a hurried shuffle through back doors and glaring illuminated hallways while your heart galloped in your chest with anticipation, post-concert adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

another heavy door and it was just you and him left standing underneath the fluorescent lights. only a few words were spoken: your routine of sing-song praise about his performance followed by a lewd comment on your outfit (you dolled up so prettily for him); a pretense of normalcy before the frantic flurry of hands and teeth. 

“can’t even wait until we’re back at the hotel, such a desperate slut,” minho spat, no less aching than you were despite his tough act. “saw you at the barricade screaming your head off. everyone struggled to keep their eyes off these tits.”

he groped them roughly, then pushed you to your knees. you already knew what was coming and a spark of heat lit up in your core. 

the sound of his belt unbuckling, his tight leather pants sliding down his strong thighs. the sight of them was enough to make your mouth water. not unproud you noticed he was already hard in his boxers. he always put the concert fit back on after cleaning up; he knew what those clothes did to you. they made you want to worship him even more than usual. 

you reached out for him but he slapped your hand away with a laugh. “greedy kitten. don’t worry, i’ll give you what you want. you don’t even have to beg for it today... isn’t that nice of me?”

the taste was familiar and salty, and too big and too much at once — your mouth stretching around his length, drool already pooling at the corners. you choked around him and he sank in deeper, chasing the feeling of your tight throat. you felt another wave of arousal flood your panties and your empty cunt clenched at your pathetic struggle.

“look at you, my own pretty little cockslut,” minho praised while you blinked up at him through your tears, “sucking cock like you were made to do. such a filthy whore.” 

he pulled out and slapped your face with his cock, rubbing the messy mixture of spit and precum over your tear-stained face. you loved how rough he got after a show, letting his mouth run, how he used you like it was his last day on earth. maybe that was what it felt like to perform. he’d been giving his all the whole night; now it was his time to take. 

“tongue out,” he commanded and you obliged without thought, rubbing your thighs together when he let his heavy cock rest on your tongue. it jerked and twitched. the intensity of his gaze was almost too much and your face heated in embarrassment. 

“bet you’re soaked for me, kitten. just from me fucking your throat.” he pushed through and smiled when you gagged around him, letting his fingertips dance over the bump created by the head of his cock before curling his fingers into your hair. “too bad no one’s using that pretty little cunt of yours now, what a waste.” he pressed his shoe against your crotch and you moaned around him, eyes falling shut with pleasure. it was degrading and your face burned even hotter yet you rocked your hips, trying to get some friction. 

“pathetic whore,” minho scoffed and straightened his legs. he used his grip on your hair to move you along the length of his cock. drool leaked down your chin and you were positive anyone walking past would hear the wet gagging noises through the closed door. 

“just like that - fuck,” he hissed. he was babbling now, mixing more praise with his demeaning words, keeping your nose pressed against his pubic bone. you willed your throat to relax, chest heaving when he pulled you back. a long string of spit connected the head of his cock with your lips and you licked it off his tip, relishing in the sweet sounds he made when your tongue brushed over his most sensitive spots. 

minho looked gorgeous like this: head tilted back and his brow furrowed in concentration, traces of his dark stage makeup still visible on his lash line. he let you set the pace and play with his balls for a while, his feline gaze tracking every move. 

“you look so beautiful with my cock on your face, kitten,” he hummed, and you lit up at his praise. “even prettier when you’re cumming on it, though.” a whine escaped your lips and minho grinned. “suck me off and i’ll take you back to the hotel and fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

your clit throbbed at the promise and you put your palms on his thighs, letting him take over again. he bucked into your mouth roughly, chasing his release with faltering thrusts. you felt his cock pulse and twitch before he pulled back and spilled all over your tongue, cum dripping down and leaking onto your chest.

“don’t swallow.” minho helped you onto your feet, your wobble steadied by his arms, and licked into your mouth to taste himself. his thigh pressed hotly against your core and he kissed down your neck to clean up every last drop. he wiped your mascara stains with his thumbs, murmuring praises against your lips. 

“let’s get out of here,” he kissed you one last time before opening the door and dragging you down the hallway, not stopping until you were in the back of the car and he got your pussy wrapped around his fingers.

© planet-dusk do not copy, translate or repost my works.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know smut #sub!reader #dom!idol #;skz blurbs

[danikamariewrites]

Watch Your Step

Feysand x reader

A/n: happy day 2 and another Feysand fic! Comfort fics are some of my favorites especially for Rhys. Some of my favorite moments with him and Feyre are in ACOWAR and he’s just doting on her. @polyacotarweek

Warnings: descriptions on injuries and comfort

“Nyx, slow down!” You yelled over the little boy's screeches and giggles as he ran through the upstairs hall. You held your dress above your calves, feet carrying you quickly.

You jumped toys littered across the carpet. Sighing mentally you make a note to have the boy clean up his toys. “Bet ya can’t catch me mom!” He giggled, disappearing around the corner. “No running on the stairs young man!” He giggled again as you heard the sound of winnowing. You came to a halt. The three of you knew Nyx’s powers were developing. He could finally hide his wings on command like Rhys. But winnowing was very new.

The first time he winnowed he had taken Rhys with him. Ending up outside the Winter Court palace wanting to see his friend, the Princess of Winter. To know he could winnow so far at such a young age was impressive but terrifying.

Your thoughts raced you began sprinting for the stairs. Praying to the Cauldron your little boy was only downstairs and not somewhere unknown.

Not keeping your eyes on the ground you completely missed the pair of toy swords in a small wagon on the first step. Your bare foot landed right on the center of the wooden toys, splintering them in half. Not even getting a chance to right yourself your other foot stays suspended in midair as the wagon moves across the stair.

Your ankle turns and you feel something pop. Falling down the stairs backwards you let out a scream. You try to grab hold of the banister to slow down, your fingers screaming in protest. You hit the curved landing hard. Rolling to a stop thanks to the wall.

Thanks to the pain numbing your body and ringing ears you didn’t hear Nyx scream for you. Or the multiple pairs of feet thundering to get to you as quickly as possible.

Groaning, you roll over onto your back, trying to keep your breathing steady. You keep your eyes screwed shut at the pain still coursing through your bones.

Nyx was now sitting next to you. A little hand on your face to comfort you. “Like mommy and daddy do for you,” he said once.

“I’m ok buddy, I’m ok.” You manage through gritted teeth. Opening your eyes you smile up at him. Panic on his little features. “See, mom’s ok. Just a little fall.”

Nesta and Azriel are first to arrive, Rhys and Feyre looking destressed right behind them. Nesta quickly gathers Nyx in her arms much to the boys dismay. He starts fidgeting wildly in his aunts arms fighting to get back to you.

Before he can be told to Az winnows away to get Madja. Rhys scoops you into his arms making his way to the bedroom quickly. Feyre prepares you a spot, fluffing your pillow as Rhys set you down gently.

“Questions later. I don’t want stress her out and add to her pain.” Rhys says into Feyre’s mind. He looks back at his mate to see silver lining her eyes. Her hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb. “It’s ok angel, we’re here.” Feyre whispered softly. You squeezed her hand in response. The both of them could feel your pain through the bond and it was breaking their hearts.

Madja came bustling in as quickly as possible leaving Azriel to linger in the doorway. The old healer shoos your mates away, “I can’t work with you two breathing down my neck. Go with the Shadowsinger. I’ll come get you once she’s patched up.” Her tone leaves no room for argument. They’re hesitant to leave you but know it’s for the best.

An hour later Madja had left you with your ankle wrapped and strict bed rest orders which Feyre and Rhys took very seriously. For the next week your mates kept a close eye on you, not letting you move an inch.

“I still think you should keep your ankle elevated, my love.” Feyre sweetly chastises you a few days later. You roll your eyes as she puts the lunch tray down to fluff the throw pillow you abandoned a half hour ago.

“I’m fine, Fey. Besides, it’s practically healed.” She hummed, raising a brow at you, gently placing your foot on the pillow. “You want to tell Rhys that?” You sigh, dropping your head against the headboard.

Rhys has been worse than normal. Maybe because it was the worst at home injury any of you had sustained. He wouldn’t even let you sleep in the middle of the bed like usual. Rhys insisted you take his side while he slept in the middle so it would be easier to carry you out of bed.

Feyre placed the tray on your lap as she settled next to you, brushing a strand of hair behind your delicately pointed ear. “How are you feeling?” She asks softly.

“Better. The pain in my side is gone and my head is fine, the only problem is the pain in my ankle.” Feyre hums looking back at your bandaged ankle. You start to pick at your food when you notice a card under the plate. Picking it up you smile. Nyx had drawn you many get well soon cards over the last few days. “Good.”

In the middle of your meal and chat with Feyre, Rhys made his way into the bedroom taking the other spot next to you in bed. He takes your chin gently in his fingers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As if he was afraid of causing you more pain. “Hi angel, how are you feeling?” You smile against his lips, “Good.” He lets out a content hum leaning away from you.

As the week went on your mates let up on their hovering. When the bandage came off Rhys would massage your ankle every night, rubbing a special salve Madja gave you. While their overbearing nature at times can be aggravating, you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d never stop being thankful to have mates and a family that cares so much about you.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #feyre x you #feyre x reader #feyreandrhysand #feyre acotar #feyre archeron #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x you #poly!feysand x reader #poly+acotarweek2024 #poly+acotarweek2024 d2

[hqbaby]

six — best

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2k content. swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, slight dacryphilia, cum eating, use of pet names

“Pay up, fuckers!”

The boys groan as you hold your hands out for them to drop their money into. One by one, they reach into their pockets and begrudgingly hand you their bets. You’ve just bested them a beer pong again.

“Fuckin’ cheerleaders, man,” Aran murmurs. “Yukie fucked us up at the last party too.”

You walk over to Atsumu with a shit-eating grin on your face. “You still owe me.”

He rolls his eyes at you then takes your face with one hand, planting a kiss on your lips. When he pulls away to find you looking stunned, he smirks. “That’s worth at least a thousand yen.”

Your grin is back. “Cocky,” you say. “I kinda dig it.”

So wrapped up being the center of attention, you don’t seem to feel Suna’s unrelenting gaze on you. He just can’t look away. It’s like his eyes are glued to your figure, taking it all in. The way you charm everyone until they’re eating out of your hand. The way you always have a witty little quip to say when they try to get under your skin. The way you light up when you’re near Atsumu and the way you close your eyes when he kisses you. 

He sees it all from the corner of the room, nursing his beer. And the whole time, there’s only one thing on his mind: He really needs to fuck you right now.

You pull away from the rest of the group and head to the kitchen to get another drink.

“Hey, Suna,” you greet when you pass by him. “Haven’t seen much of you tonight. You find a girl you like?”

He follows you out of the room, the two of you walking into an empty corridor. Well, it’s more or less empty. The only people there are passed out on the floor.

Before you know it, your back is pressed against the wall and Suna’s lips are on yours. It’s messy and harsh, all teeth and force. There’s no method to how he touches you, his hands are just everywhere, grabbing any part of you that he can.

You withdraw your lips from his, lightly pushing him away. “Wait, wait, wait,” you say, trying to get a good look at him in the dimly-lit corridor. You can’t see much, but you can see his eyes. The way they stare at you, hungry. “What’s going on, Suna?”

His voice is low and rough. “Don’t call me that.”

“What?”

“Suna,” he says. “It’s Rin to you.”

You crack a smile at the request. “Rin,” you say quietly, obliging, “what’s going on?”

“I need to fuck you.”

His hands are on your shoulders, face just inches away from yours. You can smell the alcohol on his breath, but you know he’s sober. Just really horny, you guess.

“Like… right now?” You give him a bemused look. “Your friends are right there,” you try to remind him, nodding your head at the door to the living room. “They aren’t exactly supposed to know about this, right?”

He answers you with another searing kiss. “I don’t care,” he says against your lips. “I want you.”

At that, you kiss him back, melting into his frantic touch. “I want you too.”

Your words shoot straight to his cock and he lets out a groan. Careful not to step over the people on the floor around you, you both stumble into the closest bathroom, mouths still linked and hands still searching one another.

“Get on the counter,” he commands, locking the door behind him.

You do as he says and reach your hands out for him. The heat between your legs grows. “Rin, I need you.”

He’s back on you, hands running up and down your back as he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth. He moves his fingers between your legs, pushing your panties aside to touch your dripping core. “Fuck, baby.” He pulls his soaked hand up for you to see. “Would you look at that?”

You nod mindlessly, trying to pull him as close to you as you can. When he starts pressing his fingers against your clit, you grab his wrist. “No,” you say desperately. “I want you in me now.”

“You sure you can take me?” His voice is teasing. “Might break you.”

Your hands go up to his hair, yanking him forward to crash your lips into his. “I don’t care. Please, Rin.”

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. In a second, he pulls you off the counter, turns you around, and bends you over. He lifts your skirt up and rips your panties away like they’re nothing.

“Rin,” you whine. “Why’d you do that?”

He places the piece of fabric in his pocket. “It’s fine,” he tells you, landing a harsh blow to your ass. “I won’t let anyone see you.”

You moan at the sting of his touch. Your eyes land on the mirror in front of you, catching a glimpse of your fucked out state. It’s filthy, the way Suna has you bent over, your tits threatening to spill out of your top, legs spread to the side for him. Behind you, you can see him unbuckling his belt and pulling his pants down, eyes focused on your pussy.

Then, you feel it. The head of his cock pressed against your folds, moving up and down as he gathers your slick.

“Don’t tease.”

He chuckles. “Just making sure you’re ready to take me.”

Without warning, he slides all the way inside of you. You scream at the mix of pain and pleasure overtaking your senses as Suna’s hand comes to cover your mouth.

“Gotta keep it down, babe,” he tells you as he starts to thrust. He goes faster every time he moves, impatiently fucking into you, your walls clenching around him. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You grip the edge of the counter as the knot in your stomach tightens. Suna moves in and out of you at a brutal pace, your entire body being tossed back and forth by the sheer force of it. Muffled moans spill out of your lips and your eyes roll so far back into your head you swear you can see your skull.

“Taking me so well,” he hisses. One hand moves away from your mouth and goes to grip your hips while the other comes up to grab your hair and yank your head up. “Open your eyes, baby. Look at yourself. All fucked out on my cock.”

You try your best to look at the sight in front of you, the way Suna uses your body like it’s nothing, the way he pounds into you from behind. Tears slip out the corners of your eyes as your pleasure reaches immeasurable heights.

He snickers. “Is my pretty baby crying?” he asks. “Am I fucking you too good?”

No words come out of you, just endless whimpers. You try to keep yourself quiet knowing that, even if the music outside is blaring, you’re being loud enough for anyone passing by to hear. Then, a sharp thrust sends your entire body lurching forward and a borderline pornographic moan slips out of your mouth. There’s no way you can keep quiet, not when Suna’s fucking you like this.

“Can’t even speak now, can you? Too drunk on my cock.” He knows you’re close, he can feel you clenching around him, so tight it’s making it harder for him to move. His hand pulls away from your head and goes down to rub your swollen clit. “Such a pretty fucking girl,” he says. “So pretty when I fuck you.”

Without his support, your head drops, mind too focused on your impending orgasm. You rock back and forth with each relentless thrust, your chest heaving with effort and adrenaline. “Rin,” you moan. “I’m so close.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmurs, leaning over your back until his lips are right beside your ear. “I’m right there with you. Come for me.”

And, just like that, a wave hits you, riding your high as Suna continues to fuck you through it. You swear the counter should be crumbling from just how hard your grip is, clinging onto it for dear life. The sounds falling out of your mouth are sinful, downright sacrilege.

With a few more thrusts, Suna stills, cum spurting deep inside you. He grabs your hips so tight that you already know they’ll bruise in the morning. His body slumps over yours, just as spent as you are. He wraps his arms around you as the two of you try to get your bearings, slouched over the counter for a moment, Suna’s dick softening inside of you.

After a beat, you start giggling. “Where did that come from?”

You can feel him smile against your shoulder. “I told you. Your skirt’s cute,” he says, peeling himself off you as you both pull apart. You wobble a little and he catches you just in time, holding you against his chest. “That’s got to be at least in the top 5.”

Your hand slaps his chest at the comment. “Oh definitely,” you tell him with a smile. “Maybe even in the top 3.”

He pumps his fist. “I still got it.”

You laugh.

Suna pulls his pants back up and fixes his belt while you retouch your makeup in the mirror. You’re focused on applying your lipstick when he notices his cum sliding down the insides of your thigh. He turns to look for some toilet paper and pales a little when he sees the empty dispenser.

“Shit.”

You look at him with concern. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, no, it’s just…” He motions at your legs. “There’s no toilet paper here. I can go out and find something.”

You glance down, see what he’s talking about, then look back at him and shake your head. “It’s fine.”

“What? Y/N—”

What you do next has him stunned, gaping at you. You slide two fingers up your thigh, gathering the cum spilling out of you, and pop your fingers in your mouth, sucking on them as your eyes stare right into his.

After rendering him speechless, you come closer, chest pressed against his. Then, you cup a hand to his ear and whisper with a smirk, “I know I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

“Ya good?” Atsumu asks when you come back to join the group. “I was just ‘bout to go lookin’ for ya.”

You coo at him. “Aw, aren’t you sweet?” you say, grabbing his hand. “I’m fine. I just had to make a call.”

“Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah. Just forgot to tell my roommate I was going out tonight.”

Suna walks into the room a little while after you. It wasn’t really like you were trying to hide it. Besides, you highly doubted anyone would even suspect that there was something going on between the two of you, but you tried to stagger your entrances anyway. Just in case.

He finds you on the couch, huddled over a game of Uno with some of the other guys. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap with your brows furrowed in concentration. When you look up to see him, you beam.

“Suna, come join us!” you say like you weren’t just fucking him in the bathroom ten minutes ago. “There’s room over there beside Hinata.”

The bright-haired boy waves at him and pats the spot to his right, on the floor beside the coffee table. “Come on,” he says. “We’re trying to beat Y/N.”

As he takes a seat, you pull a reverse on Aran’s “Draw 4.” He curses loudly. “How the hell?”

Atsumu laughs as you lean back into his chest. He kisses the crown of your head and places a hand on top of your thigh (your legs are crossed… for obvious reasons), rubbing tiny circles into your skin. “Fuckin’ told ya, man,” he says. “Y/N’s just the best.”

Suna clenches his fists on his lap. It shouldn’t bother him, but it does. It’s not like he didn’t see it coming.

He always knew you were the best. He should’ve known that didn’t just apply to him.

notes. this one is for the suna girlies 🫡 and also totally not bc the angst is real!1!!1! i also realize now that i made the reader in this series too hot for her own good like i would fall in love with her too yk?? i’m not choosing a side i’m team reader all the way🧎‍♀️

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #suna smut #haikyuu fic

[banjjakz]

final girl: jjk visualkei idol!au x stan!f!reader

author's note: this is a choose-your-own-adventure PWP series. each route will have its own host of chapter-specific warnings, but some general content advisories include: obsession, stalking, elements of horror, codependent/unhealthy relationships, imbalanced power dynamics, erotic descriptions of death, etc etc please see: main menu for navigation & guide for recommended route order. enjoy ~ ^^

> main menu > guide

[PROLOGUE]

➡ GAME START

The time: three o’clock in the morning. The place: one of Kabukichou’s countless dilapidated venues. The weather: piercingly frigid, biting cold which mercilessly impales your already tumultuous gut. Those in attendance: approximately three hundred other dedicated fans, and – of course – the main act:

Shinjuku Showdown.

As an underground idol group, ShinShow makes no effort to conform to some false overly polished, perfectly airbrushed boy-group image. What sets them apart from the rest of the underground crowd is their steadfast dedication to their unique concept: jujutsu sorcery.

Allegedly, all members of ShinShow are reincarnated sorcerers from various eras in Japanese history, reborn to entrance thousands with the preternatural capabilities of their musical talent. In this lifetime, they manipulate the cosmos not with mudras, but with peerless performances.

Many so-called stans claim to know their lore inside out; you, however, pride yourself on being a part of the slim majority of the fanbase who has walked with the members since the beginning. You were a fan of each individual member while they were preoccupied in other idol activities before eventually joining together to create ShinShow. This, you are convinced, sets you apart from the swathe of fresh blood clogging up the congested standing pit. Everyone loiters in one single cesspool of quivering, fanatic anticipation. You bet many others feel like prey, yearning to be caught in the captivating gaze of their preferred member. But you’re different. You aren’t prey.

After years of unwavering support including (but certainly not limited to): countless hours spent digitally streaming; months’ worth of paychecks devoted to VVVVVVVVIP Access Packages, pre-releases, physical albums, official merch; and premium music subscription services, you consider yourself the exact opposite of a creature lying in wait, ready to be devoured.

No, you are the one who does the devouring.

Consuming ShinShow content is the closest you have ever come in your miserable life to satiating the empty void weighing you down, siphoning the sleep out of your nights, rendering your few non-work-related phone calls devoid of any real meaning.

Walking with ShinShow has brought you to a new, enlightened state of being. You are cleansed anew each time you have the privilege of breathing in the same atmosphere into which they perspire, passionately entangled in the performance of their morose melodies. Screaming fan chants until your throat bleeds and pricking yourself with arts and crafts supplies in the effort to make your own cheering uchiwa are essential sources from which you derive a tenuous – but nonetheless persistent – will to live.

Supporting ShinShow has become a devotional act. And you are, if nothing else, devout.

Up above head, the house lights are snuffed into nonexistence. An impenetrable darkness asphyxiates all sense of vision and a charged murmur sweeps through the venue. Excitement runs rampant like an epidemic, spreading from phone charm to deco’d polaroid holder to custom-made fan slogan.

It’s time.

As always, you hear them before you see them: the isolated, mournful wailing of an electric guitar echoes throughout the atmosphere, seemingly pulling a shroud over the crowd and commandeering the entirety of your attention to the mysteriously black stage. Soon to follow are the crashing of symbols, the striking of drums, the unnerving thrum of that otherworldly bassline, and last, but certainly not least, the main vocal’s banshee-like shriek.

The show is absolutely charged with some sort of intoxicating misery. This is why you love them above all others – the unique, dreadful energy that pools wherever ShinShow performs is a testament to their unmatched skills as entertainers.

Even in the midst of a taxing live show, there is not a crack in the façade, not a chink in the armor. The drummer, despite pounding away with reckless abandon, displays an unshakable poker face of utter apathy, which would be made somewhat less terrifying if he didn’t have on his usual corpse paint: a white face, powdered and even like a geisha, bisected at the middle with a harsh black line cutting neatly from cheekbone to cheekbone. Even when shouting some of the raunchier, more aggrieved lyrics, his black-painted lips curl rather cutely around the vulgar vowels.

Just as dedicated to his craft, the bassist plucks out morose notes with limp hands and cold eyes, moving his body as a medical examiner might manipulate a cadaver’s stiff limbs. He’s got lanky, black hair with parted bangs brushing his impossibly long, doll-like lashes. Despite his pretty looks, he appears ultimately ghoulish, with a wan complexion, sunken cheekbones, and lips perpetually bitten raw. This is not to say he doesn’t get excited while performing – because he absolutely does! But when he moves, it is with a disconcerting preternatural speed. Is it truly the adrenaline rush of a live performance that moves him? Or does something else entirely occupy his svelte, hollow carcass?

Not to be outdone, the lead singer inspires as much awe as he does fear in the hearts of his catatonic, reverential fans. In stark contrast to his easygoing off-stage countenance, his on-stage persona lets his hair loose. Literally. A smooth, unbroken cascade of obsidian drapes his well-toned form from the crown of his head to the small of his back. Many of his female fans are envious of his well-maintained locks, and rant about this very grievance in pages and pages of obsessive online ramblings. With tastefully gauged lobes, a spear of shocking silver speared through his tongue, and swirls of ink lining the ribbed midsection of his throat, the band’s front man is an unapologetically alternative heartthrob. When he sings, it sounds like he’s trying to resurrect something long dead and gone through sheer force of will. How anything alive or otherwise could resist his siren’s call is an eternal mystery.

And last, but certainly not least, there is the guitarist, who stands a full head taller than the rest of his bandmates and at least twice as wide. What he lacks in the conventionally attractive, youthful bishounen image of most male idols, he makes up for with a physique gifted from above (or below?) itself. His muscles ripple, glistening with sweat and the remnants of many upended water bottles, as he shreds his strings and whips his unruly pink hair in all-consuming, passionate fervor. Out of all the members, he must be the most unapproachable – after all, his concept is that he’s an epochs-old evil curse who used to eat women and children for fun!  If it weren’t for his washboard abs and de facto stage outfits of open-faced robes and shredded T-shirts, you wonder how many fans he would have left to claim.

Before you know it, the performance draws to a close just as suddenly as it had spontaneously combusted into existence! During the final speaking mention, one of the members wields some lethal fan-service: some fan had thrown a pair of fox ears onto the stage. When he decided to not only put them on, but to pose with cute foxlike mannerisms, the gap moe is too much for the audience to handle. The crowd surges forward, and with a complete lack of any kind of barrier or barricade (this is Kabukichou, after all) you are sent flying into the alarmingly solid, wide, warm chest of the imposing security guard. He looks down at you from the tall bridge of his nose, wordlessly impassive save for the slight quirk of amusement that twists his scarred lips. Beefy arms stabilize you, dispelling your disorientation. Each of his large hands respectively span nearly the entire width of your upper arm. Wow. Sure, he looks well into his forties, but you think he could definitely have a shot as some niche-market idol. He’s even got dark fringe and a sharp jawline! The wrinkles aren’t too bad, either…. if you squint, he’s kinda…

Ahh, you have to pull yourself together! Making goo-goo eyes at this random stranger will ruin your chances at catching the encore. Hurriedly, you (not so) politely squirm your way back into the crowd front, a (not so) respectful distance away from the edge of the stage.

As the final chords fade out into the tepid night, you blink back tears of shock. While it is not unusual for you to be moved to weeping at a ShinShow gig, something about tonight feels markedly different. Is it just you, or were several of the members meeting your eye? Each song in the set saw a moment of charged intensity between either the drummer, the bassist, the lead singer, or the guitarist. In every instance, you flushed red-hot with disbelief, with wanton ecstasy at the thought that you were a passing object in their distracted, roaming gaze. The thought is enough to make you more than a little weak in the knees.

Shaking your head, you are forcibly evicted from your reverie when the house lights surge back to life. The show is over. The music is gone. The members have finally retreated backstage. Some audience members file out of the main exit, while others linger behind in naïve hopes of catching just one more glimpse.

What will you do?

➡ Loiter behind the venue.

➡ Sneak backstage.

#fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro toji x y/n #choso x reader #choso x y/n #okkotsu yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x y/n #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk fic #jjk series #jjk smut #my writing #mine #final girl banjjakz #final girl prologue

[nubisaureus]

when they get jealous and needy

how the genshin men show their jealousy over you

character(s): Cyno, Xiao, Kaeya

pairings(s): fem!reader x Cyno, Xiao, Kaeya (separately)

contents: uncertainty of feelings, smut, found family, angst, comfort

not proofread! im swamped with uni work so i might post less till next week, sorry <3

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────────────

Cyno

he's absolutely chill most of the time, but there are some times he just gets jealous and insecure

you bet he's going to mark his territory: whether it is by putting his hand around your waist, pulling you close, whispering something in your ear while looking the other person dead in the eyes, his golden irises sending a silent warning

«And who's this, angel?» he asks, as he gets to your side

you better believe he's gonna get extra needy/rough when you two get in bed later

as he's balls deep in your pussy, he groans «you're mine, aren't you, angel?»

you struggle to answer. not because you don't know what to answer, but because you can't think properly, as he's relentlessly pounding into you, making you lose any semblance of rational thought

he stops, still inside of you.

«answer.» he commands now, making you squirm and whine for more.

«C-cyno..» you plead, incapable of uttering any other word than his name.

«yes?» his pupils dark and wide, much like the ones of a predator

«i am Cyno. that guy was just flirting with me because he can't stand you. he wants to make you angry because the matra once apprehended him due to his illegal schemes, and so he wants to take it out on you..» you utter those words, remembering the case that had shaken your Darshan from the inside out, before Cyno was even the general Mahamatra

as you finish speaking, he starts to pound into you again, making you scream his name, finally getting the release you were aching for

──────────────────────────────

Xiao

poor thing is still new to this having feelings for someone, so when he gets angry when another guy talks with you in a more friendly way, he doesn't know what to do with his feelings

so he goes to Zhongli, asking for advice (a/n yes, i believe in Zhongli as Xiao's found family, idc)

«Rex L-» «Just Zhongli.»

he looks down, biting his lip at the correction. it doesn't feel fair to him to call Rex Lapis as simply Zhongli, but he carries on, explaining his problem

«What you are experiencing is what mortals call "jealousy". While it is normal to have such a feeling when someone you don't like might be talking to her in a little too friendly manner, you must learn not to get overwhelmed by this feeling, as it only brings people apart and destroys relationships.»

he thinks long and hard about what Zhongli told him, and as you return to Wangshu Inn, you find him on the rooftop, deep in thought.

«I'm back, Xiao.» you say, catching his attention.

you are met by a dry reply, that makes you wonder what might be up with him

after a bit, he decides to confess, and you look at him, endearment in your eyes

«aw, love. you have no need to be jealous. i'm sorry you felt this way. whether adeptus or human, jealousy is a terrible feeling that no one wants to experience. but i can assure you that the only one i love is you, and no one else.»

he's got tears in his eyes

«are you sure?» you nod. «but..my karmic debt..» he averts his eyes, turning his back to you

you hug him from behind, resting your head on his shoulder

«my Vision protects me.»

he makes you promise to run away if he ever loses control over himself, and you reluctantly agree, even though you know that if that ever happened, you would fight for him until the bitter end.

──────────────────────────────

Kaeya

oh boi, you're in for a ride

he's literally the smoothest talker ever, he doesn't even need to get jealous

he's more of a showoff really, basically showing off his wonderful girlfriend

so it's more him making other people jealous, whether men or women, because, let's be honest, it's not like women are not jealous of you

«all alone here, kitten?» he comes up at you at Angel's Share, while Diluc rolls his eyes at his cheesiness

you flirt right back, twirling a strand of loose hair in your fingers, catching his attention

your hair and neck are his weak points, so you know exactly what you're doing

his eyes are fixated on you, as you let go of your hair, and go back to your drink, ignoring him

he comes up to you, whispering something in your ear

«let's put on a show» are the words that come to your ears, and you smile wickedly

you turn your head towards him, staring at his lips intensively

he's too close for comfort, and you can feel his cold breath on your skin, shivers appearing in response

as you're about to kiss, your lips inches from each other, a suave melody starts playing

you see one of the most renowned bard of Mondstadt, Venti, playing his lyre for the tavern

you get all excited, and stand up, your dress flitting around your figure

Kaeya gives you a puzzled look, but it soon transforms into an amused smile, as he joins you in dancing

you two dance together, the entire tavern mesmerized at the sight of you two

might also be because Kaeya was using his vision to create small snowflakes around both of you, those same snowflakes catching the light of the tavern, creating a reflective spectacle

you decide to tease him, grabbing him by the ring that holds his collar in place

he smiles smugly, as if to ask "what now?"

your faces get too close for comfort, both of you lost in the each other's eyes

suddenly a whiff of wind swirls around you, diffusing an irresistible aroma around you

who's gonna give in first? it's a battle of wits at this point

Kaeya does.

you don't even have the time to process it, that his lips are on yours, and his hands are on your waist, pulling you closer

that was one memorable night

what you didn't know is that your ex was standing in a corner of the tavern, a bewildered look in his eyes as he witnessed the whole scene

Kaeya is a fucking menace

#genshin fanfic #genshin headcanons #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin cyno #genshin xiao #adeptus xiao #zhongli as xiao's found family #found father #found family #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #cyno x y/n #cyno x reader #cyno x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #xiao x you #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n

[formulaforza]

masterlist

multi-part works

miss americana & the heartbreak prince [in progress]

seasons of love [completed]

bite-sized fics

one-shots

said something stupid, instead of 'i love you' (cl16)

"When you were young, your mother once told you she thought you and Charles were each one half of a puzzle--incomplete without the other. You’re lucky to have him, she told you, people spend their whole lives looking for the other half of their puzzle."

this one and the next (cl16)

"You see him for the first time at a café. You’re sixteen and don’t even like coffee, but your best friend is dragging you in. He’s working behind the counter, flustered and busy, running around mixing drinks and taking orders. "Que voulez-vous commander madame?” He asked your friend, and she ordered. “Et vous?” I don’t drink coffee, you told him. He smiled, goofy, something familiar in his eyes. You noted his nametag, carefully drawn on with a chalk marker. Charles."

you gotta move, or move on (cl16)

"I feel like I barely know you anymore, you said once, on the phone, in the middle of the night because it was the only time you got calls from him anymore. He’s in America, racing with Sauber now and you haven’t been to a single race outside of Monaco." 

oh, simple thing (cs55)

"“It’s dead,” you said, took it from him and tossed it aside. “It’s not nice to pick flowers, Carlito. It kills them.” He burst into tears and your mother scolded you the rest of the way home, even though it was her who always told you to leave the wildflowers wild. After some time and consideration (a plate of dinosaur nuggets, half of Cinderella, and a bedtime story) you’d decided maybe Carlos was right to cry about the dead flower."

blonde hair, lemonade tea (mv33)

"Max has been working in the nursery since the two of you got home from Abu Dhabi. He won’t let you anywhere near it, and makes you wear a mask when you even walk down the hall past the freshly painted bedroom. Each night you think he couldn’t become more protective over you, and each morning you’re surprised to find that somehow, he is." 

strawberry wine (dr3)

part two: everywhere, everything

"Danny also moves around the place like he owns it, which, if it was up to him he probably would. He hums your name as he moves past, taps the opposite shoulder to the one he leans over, reading your textbook over your shoulder. “It’s seventeen,” he quips."

you can take it off (lh44)

"And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours." 

if walls could talk (cl16)

"He drags you into the living room, towards the rest of the evening festivities, with his arm tossed over your shoulder. Between that, and the whole let me get your eyelash thing minutes earlier, you’re as close to certain a person can get that he and his girlfriend are still broken up."

blurbs

love letter (cl16) cupcakes (ms47) snowflakes (cs55) carousel (cs55) rainy days (cl16) puppy (ms47) daddy-daughter dance (dr3) furniture (cl16) diamond ring (cl16) lunch date (ms47) it will come back (cl16) coming home (cs55) the nearness of you (cl16) jupiter (mv33) when you're ready (cs55) nowhere in particular (ls18)

social media aus

curveball (cl16) birthday (cl16) vlog (ms47) a bet is a bet (cl16) jpg (dr3) take me down (cs55) summer lovin' (cs55) in the club (aa23)

head-cannons

max and dating lewis and yearning

copyright © 2023 formulaforza and absolutelynotmate-archive all right reserved. do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes fics, blurbs, aus, headcannons, and edits.

#mack's masterlist #f1 fanfic #just blog stuff <3

[just-jordie-things]

hello i'm not sure if you take requests i'm sorry If not 😭 but I really love your fics and I was wondering if you could do something like a long distance relationship with megumi? like reader is from kyoto jujutsu high and they met during that competition event, it can be hcs or whatever you like. Thank u in advance 💖

yes yes yes let's do some chunky hcs bc i never do them and they're fun _

when you first meet the tokyo students, you come across as shy. which isn't really who you are, but they'd just lost one of their friends, and you didn't think it was right to mess with them like mai and todo were. so you tucked yourself behind the rest of your classmates and kept your eyes glued to your phone

(when yuuji ends up being alive and you're told that the mission here is to kill the vessel by whatever means necessary, you still keep your eyes down, but you're anything but distracted)

you don't run into megumi directly. you run into a demon dog. at first you brandish your weapon, frowning at the idea of having to defend yourself against such a fluffy creature. but it seemed the dog wasn't focused on you, as if attacking you wasn't the command it had been given. as you approach it, your steps are calculated, slow, just to be sure it wasn't going to catch you off guard.

more peculiar, when you got close enough, and you lowered your weapon to your side, the big puppy sat itself on the ground. you actually laughed, before carefully placing your hand between it's ears for a little scratch. the divine dog seemed to smile as it panted and pushed it's head further into your pleasant scratching.

"i can't just sit here all day and pet you you know," you coo to the shikigami, but despite your words you crouch down to get a better look at it's detailed markings. "but a little break couldn't hurt, could it?" you ask with a bright smile.

the dog thumps it's tail against the ground a few times, displaying it's content with your attention. again, you giggle. if only you could've been born with a cursed technique that could bring you such companionship.

"you're such a good boy, aren't you?" you praise. "or girl? i'm sorry. I wonder if you have a name..."

you're not sure how much time had passed, but you know it's not smart to stay in one place for too long. you don't know what would be worse, your opponent finding you, or your own peers.

you figure you'd rather the curses unleashed in the area would be your best bet.

however just as you're about to go back to the task at hand, you're caught. or, found, really.

"what the hell are you doing?"

your weapon in hand again, you whirl around towards the voice, and you even step in front of the shikigami as though you were it's protector.

there stands one of the tokyo students, a sword in hand but it's lowered to his side, and the most perplexed face you've ever seen on anyone.

(it's kind of cute, actually)

"dogs are my weakness" you shrug with you honest answer to his question.

it's then that his eyes shift to you, and you realize he hadn't been talking to you, he'd been talking to the divine dog. you snort.

"so you're his owner?" you think out loud. "does he have a name?"

megumi blinks, bewildered by such a question. shouldn't you be attacking him right now? he supposes he should have used your distraction as an opening to get you out first, but he couldn't help but stop in his tracks when he caught you baby talking his shikigami.

whether that was because you were so pretty and he hadn't seen you before, or he was confused as to why his shikigami wasn't following simple orders, he wasn't sure. (it was definitely both tho)

"uh, totality" he answers, and he doesn't know why, it's not like you need an answer, it's not like he owes you an answer, but it comes out before he can stop himself.

you grin, and turn back to the dog- turning your back completely on your opponent- just to scratch behind his ears and coo again.

"totality," you repeat with a smile, and the shikigami's tail waves back and forth in wide swoops on the ground. "what a good boy, aren't you?"

no, megumi thinks bitterly, he's not a good boy because he was supposed to be taking out the kyoto students, yet here you were, playing with him.

"i'm (y/n)," you say, and megumi isn't sure if you're introducing yourself to him or the shikigami, because your focus remains completely on the latter. "you're megumi, right?"

he doesn't say anything, maybe because he's been at a loss for words since he's stumbled upon this little interaction, or maybe because he's suddenly feeling... shy?

"mai's told me about you," you explain, turning to look at him again. he still has his weapon at his side, and you smile at how unguarded he seems to be. so far, he doesn't seem anything at all like you classmate had explained.

(then again, mai had tried to convince everyone her sister was no threat, but you'd met maki, and you know to keep a distance because you'd like to keep all your teeth intact)

"did you do something to him? why isn't he attacking you?"

you shrug again, before turning to face your opponent once more.

"I dunno," you shrug. "maybe his master doesn't will him to attack me, so he hasn't," you smirk at the insinuation, and your pride only blooms when megumi visibly flusters. even from a few feet away, you can see the tips of his ears go red.

and the truth is megumi is flustered. incredibly so. here you were, a stranger, an opponent, cooing to his shikigami like it were a puppy you saw in a pet store window, and now you were smiling at him and you weren't even lifting your weapon. maybe he didn't want totality to get you out of the event? were you right to assume that?

now that he thinks about it, he hasn't exactly lifted his weapon either. but that's just cause he was shocked, right?

"well, since you're not getting me out, i'll do you a favor too," you say, and suddenly you're approaching him, rapidly so. every instinct tells him to tighten his grip on his weapon and brandish it before you could get too close, but somehow you stand before him and his sword remains at his side.

this is your cursed technique, right? you must be doing something to make him freeze in place, because this was completely out of the ordinary for him.

"itadori is in danger," your voice drops in volume, and it also loses the sweet, cursive melody you'd previously used when speaking to his shikigami like a pet. "the old man wants him dead. you need to make sure your team knows"

a million thoughts and questions race through his head, but megumi remains silent, his eyes wide as he stares at you, trying to decipher if you're even telling the truth. this could be a trap after all, maybe an ambush. you have no reason to show all your cards and confess this to him, after all.

but your features are serious, hardened with genuinity. and megumi realizes you have no reason to lie, either. he swallows a lump in his throat before he nods.

he's not sure why he trusts you, but he just feels like he should. in that moment, it feels like he's known you longer than the past three minutes, like it's been years, like you're his closest confidant and there wasn't a chance in the world you could deceive him.

you nod back at him, before a small smile creeps over your lips, letting yourself indulge in his pretty features before you step away with the intention of getting back to the event.

"you get one pass megumi, i still have a game to win" you tell him with a grin. "but i do hope I can see you again!"

lucky for him your back is turned as you head off into the trees, because the comment makes the rest of his face burn hot and he knows it would be obvious if you were looking his direction.

with you out of sight, he turns his attention towards totality.

"what the hell was that?" he mutters, and for a second, he actually would have appreciated an answer, because whatever your hold on him was, hadn't seemed like cursed energy at all.

i'm loving this i'm gonna make a part two to this in a bit :3

#fushiguro megumi #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[undercoverpena]

i. fairy lights

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter one of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. “You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant.."

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers, smut, angst. no use of y/n, mild use of a codename for story purposes. wordcount: 5k authors notes: this would have remained in my google drive if it wasn't for the sheer love, listening ears and heart of both @yeyinde and @guyfieriii - every bit of sass is written for you.

series masterlist

Your eyes studied him. Peered through the half-open blinds, trying to assess at what stage you should go in—make your introductions. You’d hung back, not wanting to fawn like the others, needing to know if the man they placed on such a high shelf really deserved to be raised amongst the rest of you. 

Because you knew what he had done. You’d heard the whispers, the gossip—even if they tried to keep a lid on it. 

“Here.” 

Your eyes are pulled to a tall shadow, finding no smile—no smirk. Face entirely void of emotion. The coffee in his hand presented to you, your fingers obediently wrapping it, narrowing your eyes at the person in front of you. 

“From your favourite place.” 

The smirk falls easily over your lips. “What did you do, Van Ness?” 

It’s then he smiles—almost smirks. The two so closely woven together that you aren’t entirely sure where joy and torture truly begin. “I may or may not have fucked your filing system—but in my defence, I’m not the only one.” 

“I’m aware.”

“You met him yet?” he asked, nodding his head towards the office you’re stationed outside. “The new Attaché.”

“No, and do you not have work to be doing, Dan?” 

He shrugs, placing his cup down before leaning both palms on your desk, moving closer and closer. You watch as his smirk begins to cut into more of his features, almost being allowed to greet his eyes.

“This is for Fiestl’s sake—and the new pair of eyes studying us. The former thinks you’re seeing someone.” 

Mirroring him, you bring the coffee to your lips, leaning forward as then noted and the taste explodes across your tongue. “Lemme guess, you’re enjoying watching Chris squirm?” 

“Do you blame me?”

“No. Not really.”

You command him to look up when you walk through his office door. Your knock barely meets his ears before you’re there, stalking into his office with your hands full of files, papers and a single notebook.

He hears you murmur about not wanting to interrupt, but Javi doesn’t believe you.

Because of the sly smirk carved into your cheeks. The way you’re standing boldly in front of his desk, not giving him any indication that you’re not standing exactly where you want to be, at the time you wanted to. 

Your name falls from your tongue like it’s supposed to be blessing the air. As though you’re doing him a favour by informing him of it—not that it mattered.

He’d already learnt your name. That, and the name you’re so often called around the office—the one no one has yet explained to him. 

Now that you’re here, not restricted by half-open blinds and glass, he can look at you fully. He can run his eyes up and down your frame, not just admire your side profile. You’re pretty is what he thinks. Likely knows it from the way you don’t cower under his gaze, but rather thrive under it. He bets you act like you’re made of glass, when you’re in fact made of steel—that you’re used to making others feel better about their inadequacies than owning the fact you’re good.

You stand straight, not extending your hand out across his desk to him—telling him, without using your words, you’re not really here to make introductions. 

It almost pulls a smile from him. Your obvious indifference is welcomed after the sea of interviews he feels he’s had with the rest of the department.  It’s clear you’re not here to fawn, to interrogate him—you don’t even appear to be impressed he was half the reason Escobar was taken down.

Your eyes are still on him—piercing, digging themselves in as you continue to speak. They pierce, both your words and your sight, back remaining as diligently straight, words tumbling and falling from your lips into sentences he’s not even processing. 

Javi suspects you know he isn’t listening.

Holding yourself in a way that tells him this is a process, more than kindness. Your impassiveness growing, fermenting in the lack of interruption from him—and he welcomes it, almost craves it. So drained from shaking hands and listening to pester him for a scrap of information—an insight they’ve not read from a newspaper. 

You, without meaning to, provide a semblance of normality as you continue to talk. 

Shifting, he moves to lean on the sideboard behind him, keeping his eyes trained on you, noting how you’re American, but your vowels are tinged with the tone of someone who has been here too long. He hangs off of them, the inflictions, the oddities in the way you speak certain words. 

He shouldn’t. 

Javi has already woken up beside a colleague—an intern. Had already failed his promise to himself he made on the plane over, that this time would be different. 

And, here he is, dragging his eyes up and down your frame—noting things about you that are irrelevant, not listening. 

“--I’ve made notes, which I’ve tabbed for you. Just in case you decided to stop listening.”

You lift your eyes from your notes, and it’s different than when you’d first stalked in. They’re softer, their piercingness lost—vanished, as if you’d never tried to dig them into him—dousing him something akin to cool water on a stifling day. 

For the single, briefest second, he’s lost to the world around him. He’s falling, tumbling into them—losing his grip on morals and right from wrong as you just watch him. Not knowing how you’re basking him in light, sunshine and fucking serenity. 

A sight he’d never expected in his office, never mind in his presence. 

He clears his throat, Crosby’s words coming to him—rotating around and around. It’ll be different this time. By the book. Javi knows he has to make amends for what happened before. Even if it means having to follow orders, keep himself to himself—not fuck a subordinate again. Leave with his head held high, determination strong, impenetrable—

“Did you get all of that?” 

The air around you both tenses, constricting. 

It almost cracks, suddenly pulled to the point it’s making it hard to breathe. His mind is trying to latch to words, but just keeps replaying your entrance—how you stormed in like a hurricane, sweeping everything to the sides and leaving only you. The air shifts under the pressure, poisoned with patchouli and amber, a scent he cannot help but continue to inhale as it tries to stick to the walls—to the inside of him. 

Your eyes change again, sharpening—pitchforks at the ready as though you’ve already built him a stake to burn him on. Them trying to needle into him, undoing the carefully stitched threads that are working hard to keep him together. He equally tries to carve something out of you, work behind the layers, walls and forced aloofness. 

That’s when he finds it—hidden under carefully placed truths and hidden lies: hope. 

His heart descends, spluttering in annoyance. Because people pin that to him more than anything else. They assume he’s the answer—the centre of something big, important. A beacon they’ve all been waiting for, the one who can slay the biggest monsters and undo the greatest of crimes.

He feels it. 

How they say they wrap him in armour, but actually weigh him down in expectations. 

He moves his index and middle finger in the same pattern against his thumb. A slow rotation once, before moving it the other way twice. The pain in his head continued to throb, to pulse—his free hand rubbing that spot on his forehead. 

“I can repeat the basics, if that would be easier?” 

Your voice is like syrup—dripping into his ears, yet they’re not sticking. They’re clumping, forming somewhere between his ears and not filing themselves where they’re supposed to be. 

He can’t find the word no, or thank you. Unsure as he looks at you, how to explain this isn’t your words, but everything else. That there’s something sitting on his chest—has been since Escobar. That it lies there, dormant, waiting. 

“Sir…” 

He snorts, both at the way you say his title and that you’re the billionth person to call it him. Suddenly realising, knowing that the reason he cannot find the word no or thank you, is because they’re not the words he truly wants to say. Javi wants to say that he can’t take in your words because the floor is slipping away, his blood is bubbling nervously in his ears, heart and throat. 

Swallowing, he meets your eyes, wondering if you know that he feels like he’s drowning and yet he’s on land. While the ground feels and appears tough, firm and solid, it’s sliding under it—back to the flames he baptised himself in last time. The licks of fire singeing the edges of his skin.

Mainly, Javi wants to tell you that your to-do list that’s bigger than even you… he’s not sure what to do with any of it. 

You step closer, heels echoing in the small space as you slam the files on his desk—a piece of ripped paper capturing his attention. Your handwriting, all swirls and legible letters—not the writing of a man or another idiot in this place. Not able to pull himself away from it until he feels your fingers on his bicep, tight but soft in nature. 

“Breathe.”

You whisper it, let it greet the air with more kindness than you’ve shown since you burst into his office. Your thumb draws a triangle shape against his jacket, as you repeat the one word again. 

“What?”

Javi doesn’t mean to spit it—to let it hit the air harshly and questioningly. He doesn’t mean to be blunt or direct, shattering your softness and mellow tone. 

You pull your hand back all the same, but your face doesn’t shift—doesn’t change—and you also don't move. 

“Take a breath,” you say, in a tone devoid of any emotion. “You… look like you need it. And, I know I reeled off a lot there, but we’ll find ways.” 

Eyes full of something he can’t place—like knowing, experience and grief. Your unspoken words slide into his mind without needing to speak them. 

“We because you and I, we’re going to find ways around problems. I’m not Stoddard, and I’m not one of the idiots out there, Agent Peña.”

His pulse quickens, especially when you take a step back, pulling a piece of paper from the top of the pile before placing it more firmly in front of his chair. More in view, if he were to lean forward.

“I cannot put a vest on and leave these walls to do your bidding, but I can do a fucking lot inside these walls. With sheer will and a sharp tongue. This is what I’ll do for you. I’m the one who does your grunt work, so you can make the difference; I’m the one who’ll take the mountain of shit first, so you can make that difference. I’ll hold up the goddamn walls, Peña. You just have to tell me what street and what number. Whatever you need me for, I am here. So, breathe.” 

Your words almost make him crack—make him believe for a second that what you said was true. 

But, Javi knows better—has seen so much.

He’s played the game, seen the deceit wrapped in kindness, and been spat out because of it. 

“Alright…”

You nod, shifting your weight, watching you be lulled into a false sense of security—wondering if your walls are down enough for him to see a real answer on your face as he asks:

“Answer me this, Agent. What did they give you?”

It’s instant—the way you flinch. Small, likely not visible to most. 

Truthfully, it catches him by surprise, not expecting it. Having spent a large chunk of time around people who hold secrets, he’s not seen that one happen before. Not so quickly, not so naturally it flitters and is removed before he can truly take notice of it. 

Regret bathes him. Falls in heavy buckets from the ceiling down onto him, and he stuffs the feeling down under his suit and faultily-thrown-up ego. 

Even if the words to take it back are so easily there, readily available to be spoken—

“Not a glass prison,” you reply, words as sharp as knives.

Your back straightens again, face unreadable as you snatch your notebook from the files, the soles of your shoes making their exit before you pause, giving him one last look. 

“I’ll be at my desk, Sir.”

You don’t slam the door back into place, but rather cautiously slide it until he’s alone, lifting your chin, eyes holding his. 

Fuck.

Blanketed in low light and the soft twinkles of the bar’s fairy lights, Javi spots you immediately. 

Your jacket is removed, hanging limply from the barstool you’re sitting on, swirling the crystal glass, sloshing the liquid and ice inside of it. 

It’s instant—the twist of guilt in his stomach. 

He’s tried to speak to you. Tries to find ways to apologise without as much as saying it. But, you’re good. If he tries to ask you about work, you are nothing short of professional. Calling him sir, fetching what he needs and handing him notes—needling yourself further into his guilt. 

Outside of those moments, when he’d offered you coffee, you’d simply lifted your full mug without as much as meeting his eye. He had even tried to beat you into work, only to find you already there, your desk lamp being all that illuminated the office as you tore through files and mumbled a brief morning. 

The only benefit to your ignorance towards him is he’s been able to watch how soft you could be—how you smile with ease and how gentle your voice could be with those that aren’t him. He’d been able to watch the dynamics of the people who approach you, a taller one making you smirk and a more blonder man able to make your back straighter than he can. 

It’s also allowed him to peer under the hard exterior and defensive tone, and learn more about you from others.

Luna. That’s what they call you—a callsign, codename. A reference to your last operation in Cali before you forced yourself to be on desk work. A name chosen by you, they said—now one you fit so perfectly. One with the night, never sleeping, never leaving the office. 

Now, you’re here. 

Haunting him out of work as you are his work life. If he had known you drank here, he’d have grabbed a bottle and drank alone in his apartment. Not caring for the uptempo music and the fact others stare at him. 

He knows he’s giving more to Colombia than he ever should have—both fractions of his soul and his pride, as well as pieces of his future. The notion forces him to undo his tie as he walks over, letting his tie hang as he slides his jacket off—trying not to fixate on you. 

Even in the low lighting, he sees your perfectly manicured nails and the way your lips slide into a smirk. You roll your wrist as he slides into the chair beside you, amber and ice swirling with your motions—likely making a rhythmic noise if not for the loud music. 

We’re going to find ways around problems. 

“Evening… Sir.” 

He’d found your file, and read the pieces he was able to. He knows a redacted file when he sees one, but the main points are still there—still bold in pressed ink and serif. 

Javi smirks, both at the fact you still haven’t looked at him and the fact he can’t get used to being called sir. Least of all when it falls from your lips—a hidden note to it when you let it leave your tongue. Mouth curling around each letter as you let it float to his ears. 

It’s almost torturous when you say it—just like your perfume has grown to be. Hanging heavy in the air when he walks through, giving him hints of where you are, where you’ve been. He’s also been able to discern vanilla is another element to it, mind flicking to you when he smells a note from your perfume. 

He knows he’d be able to work out the other notes if he allowed himself to. Be able to work out which ones are all you and which you soak your skin in. 

You bring the glass to your lips, draining the liquid down your throat before placing it between the two of you, taking the hint.

“Same again?”

Nodding—direct and clinical, just like a well-trained agent. “Por favor.”

There’s a story. One which goes deep or goes high, he hasn’t quite worked it out. Knowing there has to be a reason for so much to have been removed and a reason why someone as talented as you has been saddled to a desk. If he were more drinks in, he’d ask. Bite the bullet, use his lack of tact to make you angry until you’re bursting at the seams, spilling all of your treasured truths. 

You don’t look at him until your glass is full, and then your eyes meet his, placing him under a spotlight. Illuminating him, making him glow as you make his skin warm and his shirt clings more to his spine. No words leave your lips as you bring the glass back up, taking the smallest sip as you smirk—letting the silence thicken. 

She’s good. Talented.

That’s what he’s been told by Crosby. No further explanation, moving quickly on. 

“You have secrets.” 

You laugh, harsh and short. “Oh, don’t we all. I know a lot about yours.”

“You gonna start calling me a hero too, Luna?”

Pursing your lips, your eyes narrow briefly. He watches as your head tilts, eyes not sharpening or changing, but something in you does. Likely to do with the name—the codeword. The one they used when you were down in Cali to refer to you. 

“I wouldn’t waste my breath telling you something you don’t believe.” You let the words hang, brew and fizz. “You don’t get to call me that, either.”

You take a long sip, rolling your lips together as he brings his own to his lips. He coats his tongue in it, attempting to smother the growing anxiousness embedding itself into his bones. Because there’s something about the way you stare at him, how it makes things unlodge and shift inside of him. 

“You should also know, Peña. I’m harder to sleep with than an informant and I’m not half as impressed by you as Katie, the intern.” 

He tenses, visibly. Not able to hide it, bury it. He doesn’t miss the tone, the way you say it with brimstone and annoyance. The hair along his neck standing on edge as you continue to stare, to dig into him. 

“What… here all of one day and you already managed to fuck the intern. My hero.” 

His cheeks burn, draining his glass as the whiskey does a good job of burning his insides. Hating how you know—how you’re unafraid of lifting a mirror to show him his failings. He despises that you know the edges of him, pierces—the worst parts of him. 

Mainly, he dislikes that you’re smirking, sipping your glass as though taking a victory sip. A checkmate. 

“I sat next to you because I thought you’d cause me the least amount of issues.”

Smirking broader, you tilt your head. “You clearly don’t know me then, Peña.”

“No, Luna. I don’t.”

Placing his glass down, slowly rubbing the base of his palm against his forehead. Regretting coming here, regretting thinking he could… 

“I’m sorry. For… the other day. For upsetting you now.”

You lean back, something between the two of you shifting as he watches you sigh. The music changes, slowing, almost quietening. “I’m a bit impressed you know that word.”

He almost laughs. Letting the thick silence thrum between the two of you, resting his elbow on the bar’s counter as he watches you play with your glass.

Clearing your throat, you refuse to meet his eyes as you ask, “It’s likely the whiskey… but, you doing okay, Sir?” 

He watches as you roll your finger across the rim, occasionally glancing at him, but never meeting his eyes. 

Something he suddenly wants—desperate to earn the sight of them. 

“Less of the ‘sir’.”

It’s then he hears you laugh. Low, smothered by faux indifference, compared to the usual you so easily muster. 

“The barrel—barrels—they have you over… i get it. I meant what I said, Javier. If you need an ear,” you say, fingers flexing across the counter as you meet his gaze. “You’re not the only one, to be fucked by bureaucracy—is all I mean. But, you likely know that, right? Heard all about me, and my failings. Have to if you’re calling me my cover name.”

He swallows, watching your chin dip, eyes falling to your lap.

“They make you feel like you’re it, and then just as easily they’ll rip it from you—and you’re left with… nothing.” 

It fluctuates—changes—some shadow of truth emerging from the depths between them as it stands before them both, almost warningly, but not threatening. He can’t understand it, can’t read it fully, but knows it’s there. 

And then you smile, vanishing it all away as you offer him your name again. 

As though you hadn’t already handed it to him, as if he hadn’t already committed it to memory and tried it on his tongue. 

“--just in case you didn’t listen to me before.” “I listened.”

Your lips curl. “Yeah? That before or after you checked out my ass?”

He says nothing, taking your glass and draining it. 

“Don’t call me Luna.”

“Why, you hate it or something?”

You say nothing for a moment before you turn to the bartender—ordering them both another drink. 

He finds you taste like heaven and hell all at once. 

You burn him, consume him—desperately trying to rip through him. He’d let you. Aid you in shredding him apart as long as your sweet, full lips remain pressed to his. They pull him from self-deprecation and overwhelmingness, gripping your waist as he gets you inside his place, pressing your spine against the inside of his door as you let out that honeyed whimper he heard outside the bar. 

You taking me to yours, Peña? Can do.  Don’t pretend you’ve not been thinkin’ it for the last hour. 

One of your arms slings around his neck, eyes full of molten fire and lust as you capture his lips. Pressing yourself roughly against his body, allowing him to pull you so flush he feels the buttons of your blouse against him. 

Before we do this—you clean? Yes, I’m fucking clean. Just checking. I don’t know where you’ve been, Peña. Get in the car. 

The moment halts, pauses. It breathes between you, all set to unravel as your eyes ghost over him, breath merging with his as he stares at you. 

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your lips curl into a smile, one he strokes with his thumb. “Thank you, Sir.”

Fuck. That word. It drips from your tongue to his ear and down to his cock. His lips messily meeting yours, every other touch precise and well-versed, as though the two of you have done this before together. The movements are painted together by moans and whimpers, a part of him sliding back into place as clothes—both yours and his—fall to the floor in the wake of him getting you to his bed. 

He runs his thumb over your blouse-covered peak, his teeth running down your neck to a spot which makes your nails dig into the back of his head. Your other hand is on his spine, fingers sprayed as he moves you elegantly around the furniture like it’s a dance and not ruination. 

Then your lips find him again, pulling him up, teeth slightly nibbling at his bottom lip. You kiss him like you’re breathing life into him—trying to awaken parts of him stolen months ago. Pity, guilt and an array of other things are all smothered by the way your tongue slides past his teeth. Your fingers are busy in their pursuit, the clanging of metal undoing hammers into the air as his trousers ease from his hips. 

“Thought you were harder to sleep with.”

Your laugh blends with a moan as he presses you against the wall outside his room, hand snaking inside your underwear. 

The fabric cuts into his palm, sliding two fingers into your slick as you clench around him—enveloping him, coating him in your want and need. 

He waits for the back-pedalling for you to tell him something egotistical like others usually do. Only, you don’t. 

“Took pity… fuck—on you. Seemed like—oh, fuck—you need this.” Your hand clutches his cheek, eyes burning into his as your lips try to capture his, just about ghosting, the sensation of it almost making his move against the air. “Plus… thought you’d be better than my—oh, Peña—fingers… Sir.” 

He emits a groan which comes from somewhere at the back of his throat. It makes him crash his mouth to yours, fingers twisting to find the spot that makes your knees weaken. He tastes the whiskey and the mint you’d popped on your tongue when they’d left the bar. 

He smells your perfume, noticing how it wraps around him, digging its claws into him, smearing over his skin. 

“Wanna taste you…”

You clench your walls around his fingers, nails digging into his cheek and waist as you stare, slowly nodding. 

Not allowing you to change your mind, he frees his hand from your underwear, picking you up, kicking the door of his bedroom open as he takes in the small yelp from the sudden movements. 

It’s not until you’re lay against his sheets, eyes coating him in a potion mixed of lust, pleasure and need, swirling shades all around him he couldn’t begin to name, does he really take notice of how fucking beautiful you are. He’d seen it, noted it—but hadn’t allowed himself to truly appreciate it, something he began making up for as he slowly drops to his knees, pulling you a little closer. 

You watch him watch you, chest rising and falling before him. 

“Javi,” he breathes as he hooks a thumb on either side of your underwear, beginning to slide it down your thighs. “That’s what you should call out when I make you come on my tongue.” 

He places a kiss to the inside of your knee as you moan, discarding your underwear before hooking your legs over his shoulders—noticing how wet you are, allowing his breath to dance over it, purposefully blowing it as your hips wiggle in both desperation and apprehension. 

“You have to earn that,” you murmur, missing your usual confidence as he stares at you through his lashes. “Sir.”

He smirks, and then he devours you. Tongue flattening against you at first before he plunges it inside of your folds, tasting you—tasting how much you’ve wanted him since your eyes had begun flicking from his lips to his eyes. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh, hearing you—a chorus of please, Peña,  fuck and—

Javi. 

After a night of Peña and a day of sirs—it’s bliss. His name falling from your lips makes him rock his hips for friction. Makes him want to halt his plans to have you come on his tongue, and instead bury himself to the hilt inside of you. 

But there’s time. 

He knows this. Wants this. He wants to take you apart with the same tongue that made you mad. He wants to apologise with the mouth which went too far. He wants to know what your pleasure truly tastes like and commit each note of it to his taste buds. 

You lose it when he sucks lightly on your bundle of nerves, swiping his tongue in slow and quick circles one way, and then the other— “Fuck, Javi. Please—please, fuck—let me…”

He grins. Plunging his fingers back inside of you, curling them, letting them meet that spot he discovered earlier, that he now wants to conquer. Feeling how tight you are, how soaked. How each movement makes a sound which blends with the sound of your pleas—a compilation he wouldn’t ever let be taken from him. A sound he’s happy to burn into his brain. 

Each movement takes you closer to the edge. Your nails carve through his hair, digging into his scalp as his name falls and falls in a mixture of moans. 

He swirled his tongue in a way which makes your hips buck, and he grips you tightly, not letting you move from it until you were breaking, snapping—

The sound you emit sprays across the walls of his bedroom, his tongue lapping up every drop you’ll give him—ears taking in each infliction and sound you bestow on him. 

“Fuck,” you say when you come down, all breathy and sweet.

Fuck, he thinks. Swiping his fingers across his chin, licking you from them as you pull him up from between your legs, kissing him—tasting yourself on him as he grasps her cheek and jaw, falling against the sheets with you.

“Need you.”

“Sí?”

You smirk, all devious and devilish—sliding your leg over his as he grips your hip—digging his thumb into your skin as you whisper in Spanish:

Ruin me. 

He halts, letting the words circle as you bite your lip, rolling your hips against him—knowing he was going to do just that. Over and over again. Savour each moan of yours until even in the morning, before responsibilities and rights and wrongs sneak back in, he would need you again.

Except, Javi doesn’t wake up with you beside him in the morning. 

He wakes up alone, bed sheets cold—and something akin to disappointment fluttering in his chest: you left.

Briefly, he wonders if it's karma. Another arrow to his knee, a mirror confronting him of his past mistakes. Because, he shouldn’t be bothered that you left—preferring to avoid mess and complication.

But it stung. It irked him. Because usually, it was he who did the leaving, not the woman he had just slept with. 

chapter two ->

#javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi peña x f!reader #javier peña narcos #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena #narcos x reader #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #mm: nowhere to run #javier peña fanfiction #javi peña fanfiction #javi peña narcos #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier

[elsfavor1te]

Could I ask for an Ellie with a girlfriend who's a drummer? Thank youu!!

CRAZY TALENTED

i enjoyed writing this so bad, i’m also like really sorry the smut at the end is so short…. i don’t really have an excuse BUT this is two posts in one day, cut your girl some slack mkay?

warnings: modern!ellie williams x drummer!reader. generally just sub!ellie. dom(ish)!reader. reader displays casual dominance a few times. man spreading (r). smut at the end! fingering (ellie receiving). lmk if i forget anything babies. (side note, this really was not proofread so m’sorry for any typos.)

—————

WHEN YOU MET.

ellie insists that when you met it was love at first sight. she remembers it clearly, her in an uncomfortable metal chair amongst other crowd members in the humid bar. and you. pretty as ever you, who caught her eye immediately, up on stage playing the hell out of those drums.

ellie was mesmerized, the way your head bobs as the sticks in your hands beat down on the huge drumset in front of you, how you’d smile when a crowd member would shout in praise or let out a wolf whistle.

you were apart of an indie band who’s on a steady rise to stardom. this was her first time at one of your performances, initially just wanting a night out but staying for the show.

ellie is pulled out of her thoughts by you going on to your drumming solo, bringing a huge grin to her face when your head aggressively bobs and hands move at a pace that made them look like little blurs.

when you finish, claps break out from all around. people shout, whistle, snap, all of the above. the love directed at you makes you bring your hands to your face, covering up your bashful smile. you playfully groan when your band mate pulls you into a hug, whispering praises in your ear.

you’re thanking everyone, giving a little bow when your eyes meet the distinct green ones. you’re stopped in your tracks, unable to bring yourself to look away.

a lazy grin pulls at your lips when you see the sort-of dazed look on her face when you don’t look away.

in sync, your bodies erupted in chills.

TEACHING HER.

“you’re crazy talented…” ellie’s voice comes over the sound of the loud echos of the drums. you stop, bringing both of your sticks to one hand.

“hm?” you tilt your head a little, not really hearing what she said.

“i said, you’re talented. i could never do that, the most i can do is run my fingers over a few strings.”

you smile at her compliment. “thank you baby,” your lip is pulled between your teeth as you think for a second before motioning for her to come over. “..i bet you could do it, c’mere.”

ellie had tagged along to your solo practice, (as she does quite frequently these days). the practice room was something like a mix between a garage and a band room you would see in the average highschool.

ellie’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but she followed your command nonetheless. when you pat your thigh for her to sit, her face gains a rosy tint and her eyes widen.

“w-what? you want me to sit?”

“mhm, wanna teach you.” you casually manspread a bit more, giving space for her to sit down. your hands come to both sides of her waist to pull her back into you when she shyly sits down near your knee.

“you wanna fall?” you scold her softly. “here hold these…”

ellie takes the drumsticks from your hands, letting you position them correctly. your head comes to rest on her shoulder as you start to guide her hands to the correct drum you want her to hit down on.

her focus is broken by the gentle bounce of your leg as you keep count of the beats, her face breaks out into a blush, and she nearly drops one of the sticks.

“pay attention.” you scold gently.

SHOWING HER.

ellie’s comment got herself here.

“you’re so fuckin’ fast with your hands….”

naturally, you had to show her just how fast you could be. now she’s pinned beneath you, back arching up as your fingers relentlessly tortured her sopping cunt.

“fuck— baby please.” she whined, looking down at you with those big green eyes clouded in tears.

“what’s my girl need, huh?” you smirked at her from between her legs. you were being cocky, you’d been kissing up and down her thighs for going on 10 minutes now, you knew exactly what she needed.

“y’mouth.. need it so bad.” she punctuates her sentence by grinding down, trying desperately to find your mouth.

“what do you say?”

“please.”

#mimi writes! ꕥ #mimi answers! ⚘ #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fic #tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams drabble #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams smut #tlou smut #tlou x reader #tlou fic #sub!ellie williams x reader #sub ellie williams

[ravenna-reid]

"I Mean No Harm" "I Know."

Leon Kennedy x Ex-UmbrellaAgent!Reader

WARNINGS: violence, blood, swearing, bullying, but mostly fluff hehe

Whispers had circulated of the new agent that had been recruited. 

How could it have possibly been allowed? How was the academy so tempered about hiring her? Either way, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You were here now and the academy was eager to use someone as skilled, loyal, and reclusive as you.

Walking down the hallway in your compression shirt and tactical pants, you made your way towards one of the meeting rooms. As far as you were concerned, you were forced to work with Umbrella against your will. A situation you never wanted to be in again. But no one here would understand that, nor were you willing to share your story, the only person knowing the truth being the commander that saved you. So, rumours continued running rampant throughout the building. Were you a spy? A double agent? Of course, none of it was true. But you weren’t going to waste your time defending your image when it was clear no one wanted to listen.

Walking into one of the rooms, a group of agents were already seated before you. Taking a seat at one of the desks, you ignored the eyes that peered at you. But one person stood out. Dirty blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, a strong build and mysterious aura to him. 

You were aware that you weren’t the only one who seemed to carry a reputation. You had heard whispers too of the rookie police officer turned skilled agent. He was ‘one of the best.’ A man of few words and a spine made of steel. Leon S Kennedy. 

And you were surprised to find he seemed to be falling for all of the lies the agents were spreading about you too, given he was staring at you like you were a jigsaw puzzle. 

The meeting was thorough and quick. A general explained that agents were going to be selected for a group that is going to investigate small branches of Umbrella hiding in various parts of the country. Of course, you were vital given you knew how they operated. However, in order to choose who would be best for this elite group, a set of skill tests will take place and everyone will be assessed. The blonde agent that had been sitting at the front, with his melancholic eyes and grave expression, was already a part of the group and would help choose the rest of its members.  

Once the meeting had finished, you were one of the first people out of the room, eager to leave the watchful eyes and agents that seemed to act like immature school students. But you didn’t get far though. 

“Hey, double agent.” Someone called out, poison lacing his voice. 

An unimpressed expression falling across your face, you turned to look over your shoulder and were met with a tall, brute man. Hair the colour of autumn leaves and eyes the colour of the sky. A sly smirk spread across his lips. 

“Do you think they’ll actually choose you for the mission? I mean, come on. It’s obvious you’re just here to screw us over.” He spat.

“I didn’t realise you were keeping tabs on me.” You responded coolly.

“Oh, you bet. And don’t worry,” He said, inches from your face. “I know what your intentions are. And I’ll be making sure you don’t get into this group.”

Your narrowed eyes followed him as he walked off, and you were surprised to see that standing behind him was the blonde agent. Leon glared at the man that had confronted you before his eyes met yours. But before he could say anything, you hastily walked off.

Leon wanted to say something to you. Wish he had. It must have been horrible having everyone look at you as though you were an alien just because of your past. Your first day here and already they all acted as though you were some sort of villain eager to take them down. You kept your composure though. Long, silky hair pulled back into a braid cascading down your back, Leon watched as you turned the corner. 

For the rest of the week, that boy had given you shit every time he saw you. You snapped back but it only seemed to amuse him. And this didn’t slip past Leon. Whenever he saw it, he made sure to make himself known so that the boy would step down and go away. Most days Leon would threaten the boy’s – Jared’s – position in the academy, given he was known for being the academy’s bully. But given Jared’s expertise in weaponry and his strength, the academy wasn’t getting rid of him any time soon. Much to both Leon’s and your dismay. 

The next day, Leon eagerly waited on the field for you to show up to your first assessment. Hand-to-hand combat. Eventually, you showed up. Your hair in the same braid and a stoic look plastered across your face. It seemed you had made a friend; a chipper girl with platinum blonde hair spoke with you as you gathered around Leon and two other commanders. The first commander, an older man with scars painted across his weathered face, was brutal and stern as he explained how the assessment was going to work. Each of you would go up against each other in a fight, and whoever was left standing would go on to the next round. Given your training at your old academy, you weren’t too nervous. Swiftly, you got through the first three rounds, only sustaining a few bruises and red marks here and there. But now you were a finalist, and there was only one last person standing in your way.

The boy with red hair and jarring, bright blue eyes glared back at you with a malicious smile. Something churned in your stomach, more so from anger than fear. Leon’s stomach flipped too as he watched how Jared stared you down. 

“y/l/n. Kingston. Take your places.”

Jared spat a few insults at you to throw you off, but you paid no attention. Once the whistle blew, you were at each other’s necks. He was playing dirty though, and you guessed the commanders wanted to see how you would handle it, because no one said anything or stopped him. He was large and surprisingly fast, his whole demeanour threatening. You had to be quick on your feet and quick with your hands. You swiftly sent roundhouse kicks and elbow strikes his way, only connecting with his jaw once. Once that had happened he crouched down onto the floor, and much to your dismay, dug dirt out with his hands and threw it in your face. Taking his chance, Jared stormed over to you, and grabbing you by the shoulders pulled you down and slammed his knee straight up into your diaphragm. 

The pain was intense. But not as intense as the feeling of not being able to breathe. Stepping back with a gasp you quickly clutched onto your stomach and doubled down, fearful he had broken a rib or two. It took everything in Leon not to step forward and help. Muscles tensing, all he could do was stand back and watch. 

A laugh left Jared’s lips as he circled you like you were prey. 

“Come on. I thought you were tougher than that.” He shoved you back, almost sending you to the floor. The thrumming in your stomach was intense and air still seemed like a luxury you couldn’t afford. He shoved you again before tripping you over. 

“You dumb bitch. Get up so I can beat you some more.”

Leon was close to grabbing Jared himself and breaking his jaw. 

As he stepped forward to kick you, you manoeuvred to trip him in a blink of an eye. Hitting the ground hard, you quickly crawled over and grabbed hold of his shoulders, applying all of your weight onto him to pin him down. It wouldn’t last long, so you had to be quick.  Leaning your head back, your body moved with you as you fiercely swung it forward, cracking the crown of your head down hard onto his nose. A guttural yell and array of curse words left him as you quickly moved away from him. That was it though, you had won all of the rounds. But at what cost? Did you just prove to everyone that you really were some kind of monster? It seemed that way by how they all looked at you now as blood trickled down your forehead.

As you got to your feet, you tried to regain your balance but swayed to the left. Before you had the chance to stumble though, a strong arm encircled your waist and held you up. 

“You did good, y/l/n. Are you alright?” He said, his voice close to your ear. 

Your head snapped over to see the blonde agent holding you up.

“You’re all dismissed. Jared, come with me.” The first commander barked as the second followed.

Ignoring the others, Leon sheepishly let go of you but his eyes remained focused on yours and the blood you began wiping from your head with your sleeve. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You replied with a sigh. 

Leon gave a nod, but wasn’t convinced. 

“Come with me, we’ll get you cleaned up.” He said gently. 

As you both walked towards one of the first aid bays, you subtly took him in. His sharp cheekbones and sunken cheeks lent him a serious, almost stoic look, but you couldn’t help but notice the undeniable boyishness to him. From the tousled hair falling into his eyes to the way his body language was almost shy. 

Sitting down on one of the foam beds, you grabbed the kit yourself and unclipped it. Leon watched you, wanting so desperately to help you. Talk to you at least. But you were both two reclusive agents that kept to themselves. He was still willing to try. 

“I’m sorry about that asshole.” He began, leaning against the door frame beside you. 

“Yes, he does seem to have a real problem with me, doesn’t he.” You grabbed the antiseptic and began tipping the liquid onto a cotton ball. “I just wonder if it’s going to get worse now –”

“It won’t.” Leon responded too quickly. Clearing his throat, you looked up at him. His statement almost sounded like a threat. A promise. A smile fell across your lips, prompting a small smile from Leon himself. As you held up the cotton ball to your forehead, Leon realised you were applying it onto the wrong spot.

“Here…let me,” He offered reluctantly. 

It was unlike you to let people help with your injuries, especially strangers, but with the comforting presence he had and the warmth in your chest, you handed the cotton ball to him. 

“Thanks.” You said. 

Sitting down beside you, Leon moved his gloved hand to your face. Resting his finger below your chin, he tilted his head to the side and asked, “Is this ok?”

You nodded in response and he prayed a blush hadn’t crept upon his face. Moving his other hand up to the cut on your forehead, he gingerly dabbed the antiseptic onto the laceration. 

The smell of heady spices and musk filled your nose. Avoiding eye contact, your eyes fell down, and you found yourself looking at his sculpted arms, lines carving out his muscles. He did the same, focusing on the cut rather than on your eyes or else he would lose all train of thought. But it seemed that being this close to you was affecting him anyway.

“You know, I’ve seen you before.” He said, his soft eyes focused on cleaning your cut. 

Your brows furrowed. 

“What do you mean? Where?”

“Back in Raccoon City.” He responded, a glint of pain in his eyes as his mind dragged him back to that horrid night. Raccoon City. It was probably the worst night of your life. 

“You were one of the guards at the Umbrella facility. You weren’t supposed to let anyone in, but you let me in.”

Your mind scurried for that memory, thinking desperately of what he was talking about. Then it dawned on you.

“That was you?” You ask in surprise. 

The young police officer. With his big eyes and soft, hopeful face. Now replaced with a hardened look and eyes that looked like they’d seen too much. 

“Yes,” Leon responded, carefully placing two steristrips across your cut. “I really appreciate what you did that night.”

Something warm spread through your chest, before guilt quickly came.

“I didn’t want to work with them. I promise. They had…something they were using against me.” 

Leon felt your pain and understood. 

"I mean no harm." You finished.

He just wanted to grab your hand.

“I know," Leon said, "and I just want you to know that I don’t see you as a threat.” 

That night, Jared went out to the bar, the alcohol mounting onto his hate he had towards you. Taking a wrong drunken turn down an alleyway, he began cussing you out under his breath for the bandage that sat across his nose. Little did he know that in the dim lighting of the alley way stood the blonde agent, watching him and getting ready to teach him a lesson.

Part 2 -

#resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #imagine #fluff #female reader #x reader #books #angst #part 1 #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #y/n #agent #leon scott kennedy #re4 leon #leon kennedy fanfic

[thankeywa]

hi babes i hope YOU MISSED MY SUPER DETAILED REQUESTS! so, for a long time now im craving for the “rut”, “heat”, “nest” and other a/b/o dynamics inserted on avatar universe, so i WAS HOPING:

could you pretty please write something about lo’ak and reader (a female na’vi) where they're best friends and both insanely in love w each other – reader already had her "cerimony" meaning she needs to find a partner soon, but lo'ak has been convincing readers parents to decline any mate offers because none of them is good enough for her. one day, reader's heat come and bsf lo’ak comes to the rescue? i need a cocky possessive lo’ak in my life and I KNOW you're the one whos gonna gimme !!!!!

lov u, drink water and stay safe <3

The Right Profile | Lo'ak x fem!Omaticaya! reader (a/b/o smut).

Happy Valentine's Day to all my readers! As always, requests are open. Minors DNI!

A.N= everyone needs to know that every time you send me a request my mind makes me put everything on standby until I get it done. Also, I have a major weakness for a/b/o and I've been dying for someone to send me a request like this, so yeah, your wish is my command. For anyone who wanted the new installment of Star-crossed instead of this, you can send your complaints to @punkrockrogers (I'm kidding, obviously).

Summary: exactly what's in the request but I found some juicy canon info about Lo'ak failing to tame an ikran on his first attempt and almost dying in the process, and you can bet I'm going to use that for this fic. So, our boi failed his driver's test therefore he does not get to smash. Both Lo'ak and reader are aged up (20 y/o). Title from the song 'The right profile' by the Clash. Quotes in this: one is from Avatar 2009 and the other is by Goethe.

T.W= this is going to be A LOT, if there ever were an Omegaverse phd course, I would be teaching that class, so if that stuff is not for you, scroll away now. NSFW: p. in v., a/b/o dynamics, mating cycles (heat, rut), marking, scent marking, knotting, breeding, also possessive!Lo'ak (our boi is a lil ooc in this, I don't condone this type of behavior in a relationship, it's all for the sake of the story, you know the drill, if this might be disturbing to you, again give this story a miss).

word count: 8k

Mini na'vi dictionary:

'evi= child (said affectionately by an elder)

Tsurokx= rest/sleep

yawne= beloved

syulang= flower

Ngaytxoa= forgive me

Oeya= my (possessive)

yìmkxa= banshee catcher

The Na'vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when you earn your place among the people, forever.

"I do not wish to take part in the Uniltaron without you." Y/n had told Lo'ak, still distraught from the events of that day. His best friend had been the first of their group to manage to tame her ikran, of course, she had. And now she was set to take part in the Dream Hunt before finally taking her rightful place among the people along with the rest of Lo'ak's peers, while he was left behind.

He had failed and almost fallen to his death during his attempt, and now his parents were going to make him wait until he was 'truly ready' before he could try again. His father had thought it was somehow his business to step in and stop him from trying his second attempt at taming the banshee then and there. Lo'ak had never felt more embarrassed, especially because y/n had immediately dismounted from her ikran and run to his aid the second she'd seen the scene unfold before her eyes.

"You have already waited five years for me to complete my training..." Lo'ak dismissed her words. "And I won't be the reason you wait any longer..." Y/n had never said it out loud, but Lo'ak knew it was true. She'd been postponing her rite of passage so that they would have joined the clan together, and he couldn't deal with it anymore.

"But Lo'ak, I do not care about-"

"Well, you should care." He snapped at her, not really knowing where his anger was coming from. Sure, he'd just had what could have been described as the worst day of his life, but something and been simmering inside him all week. And now Lo'ak felt like he'd reached his limit. In a few hours, the young Na'vi male was going to discover that anger was only a prelude to his first rut. "Everything comes easy to you, but it's like you don't even notice! No one ever said we needed to be attached to the hip for the rest of our lives, so why don't you just get over it and do what's expected of you?"

The second he saw the heartbroken look on y/n's face, Lo'ak wanted to take it all back. He hadn't meant to say any of those things, of course he hadn't. She was his best friend, she was the woman he loved, yet he'd passed up his chances to ever be with her twice in a single day. He was petty and weak, unable to own up to his own shortcomings, and now he was taking it out on the only person in the world who would have never judged him for it.

"I see..." Y/n said, her voice laced with grief. For a single, stupid second Lo'ak had deluded himself into thinking she was about to say 'I see you', it was what he wanted to tell her. He'd been wanting to tell her for so long. "I have... been foolish. I thought that maybe you... that we..." Y/n wiped a tear away from her face, and stepped back from Lo'ak when he tried to reach out for her. "I do not need your pity." She hissed at him, feeling that Lo'ak had just rejected her. "You have made yourself understood."

With that, y/n disappeared from Lo'ak sight and into the darkness of the night. By the time Neteyam found him, Lo'ak was already in the throes of a terrible fever. His father and brother took him to a secluded place where he would have been safe, but couldn't do much for him besides that. Moat had said the rut hit Lo'ak so suddenly that he was beyond being helped with any sort of treatment. He had no mate, and neither did he have the right to choose one. Left alone to endure the most excruciating pain known to the Omaticaya people.

A lot could change in a week. Especially when it came to things taking a drastic turn for the worse. Lo'ak, who was still experiencing the occasional violent aftershock from the trauma he'd just finished enduring all by himself, was about to get accustomed to a whole new kind of pain.

"We seek your guidance, Tsahik." Y/n's parents had come to speak to his grandmother, while she was still in the process of checking he hadn't suffered any irreparable damage during his absence. "Our daughter, y/n, does not wish to wait for love to find her. She has invoked the old ways, asking us to choose a mate for her." Another violent fit wreaked havoc over Lo'ak's body, but this time he wasn't entirely sure it was due to the aftermath of his rut. Moat had told him the worst was now behind him. "Cease your whining, 'evi." She reprimanded him. "Only by regaining your strength will you find the way to be whole again." While that statement sounded overtly obvious to him, the look his grandmother gave him made him think she was trying to tell him something more.

"Forgive us, we have come at a bad time." Y/n's mother said, directing her sympathies to Lo'ak. They had always been kind toward him. "Your grandson is still injured, y/n has been heartbroken about it. We have prayed to Eywa every day for your swift recovery-"

"He has recovered." Moat cut her off. "And your daughter cannot force her childish whims on you. She is a woman, a warrior of this clan, she cannot hide behind her parents. We only arrange the marriages of future Tsahik and Olo'eyktan, for they are given gifts by Eywa herself to guide the people. The old ways have brought nothing but suffering, I remember the time when they were enforced all too well. They are only to be invoked in drastic situations, such as the event of a heat."

"We are grateful for your wisdom, Tsahik." Y/n father said. "But that is precisely what we fear... she is already showing signs. Every day our daughter grows weaker. We know she may not survive without a mate, and now it is too late for her to make her own choice."

"Fools." Moat almost spat. "Bring her to me at once-"

Lo'ak was on his feet and running out of the healing tent at once, no longer willing to listen to a single word of that conversation. Mating cycles were usually something that a couple faced together, but he and y/n had waited too long for their rite of passage. In that time they hadn't found the person who was truly right for them, so now y/n was going to force herself to be with someone or face her heat alone, along with the consequences that entailed. And it wasn't like Lo'ak could step up and ask her parents to marry her, he wasn't even part of the clan. Not only that, y/n also probably thought he wanted nothing to do with her.

He went looking for y/n everywhere. She wasn't in her tent, nor was she staying with her parents. Word was she'd gone hunting, and after a desperate search, Lo'ak ended up finding her in his own living quarters when he returned home in the early hours of the morning. As much as Lo'ak wanted to yell at y/n in frustration because he'd been worried sick over her, the sight of her sleeping peacefully quelled his anger. He knelt down to touch her forehead, and let out a breath of relief. Her body temperature hadn't drastically risen just yet.

Lo'ak took a look around and only then noticed y/n had rounded up the entirety of his possessions to surround herself with in her sleep. She had made a bed out of the skins and paintings which used to adorn the inside of his tent while holding on rather tightly to a piece of fabric he quickly recognized as one of his loincloths. He felt himself turn into a deep shade of blue in the face and attempted to gently tug the item out of her grip, but y/n growled menacingly in her sleep, immediately making Lo'ak give up on his intent. He did not wish to wake her. Not when it was clear she'd been so distressed, she'd felt the need to make herself a nest just to feel safe.

"Tsurokx, yawne..." Lo'ak wished her a good sleep, and went to tell her family she'd been found.

Her parents were thankful, and just because Lo'ak was not allowed to catch a single break, it turned out y/n parents trusted him so much they began to ask him his personal opinion on the skxawngs that had already shown up to ask them to be her mate. Lo'ak respected y/n's parents and knew they were only worried about their daughter, but he was running on zero hours of sleep, and the image of y/n curled up in a nest she'd made of his belongings was still too fresh in his mind, so he let his worst side get the better of him. He lied. Something so deeply human, his people did not even have a word for it.

"...I would not even consider Selkath, he is too arrogant to even see past himself..."

"Pantoran is weak, I would not trust him to provide for your daughter..."

"... I have known Skakoan to have used cruel words against y/n. She does not deserve her..."

The more he spoke, the more Lo'ak realized he was describing himself and the way he had treated y/n, not giving a true judgment of his peers. And her parents were trusting him with that information, even though he had absolutely no authority to be judging anyone. But there was no reason to worry, a fresh batch of idiots would have shown up to declare their 'love' soon enough, over and over again until eventually someone was found.

Lo'ak slept on the cold hard ground just outside his tent, barely getting an hour's sleep before the day began for the rest of the clan.

"Showing your worth to the clan, as usual, Su-ly?" A voice Lo'ak knew all too well asked, as he was 'accidentally' stepped on and woken up. Tholothian had never been too shy about disliking Lo'ak, and the feeling was entirely mutual. "Watch where you're going, Tho'lo." He growled as he stood up, certainly not in the mood to be taking anyone's crap. The other Na'vi was also standing entirely too close to the tent where y/n was currently resting, and Lo'ak was about the get real territorial real fast if the skxawng didn't back off. The low rumble in his throat was still there, and Lo'ak was making it very clear he was not to be messed with at that moment.

Tholothian, who thrived off humiliating the younger Sully brother in any way possible, had to take a step back. Lo'ak had been missing for an entire week, and now that he was back, he seemed to have doubled in size. He was taller, his shoulders wider, his once delicate-looking human hands bigger, and his muscles considerably more defined. And his entire demeanor also seemed... different, menacing almost. Never before would he have considered Lo'ak Sully competition, least of all a threat. So he decided to back off, for the time being at least.

What he wanted was y/n, and Lo'ak couldn't claim her. There was no pride in kicking someone down when they had already lost. Or was there? "I was just on my way to see, y/n..." Tholothian gloated, knowing it was a sore subject for Lo'ak. "You must have heard... she is searching for a mate..." The look on Lo'ak face darkened considerably, and it would have been a lie not to admit he was reaching for his dagger to challenge Tho'lo to a duel and see which of them could draw first blood, when y/n audibly called Lo'ak's name from inside the tent.

Tholothian paled considerably when he heard y/n call out to his rival and Lo'ak smirked, basking in the pride he felt at that moment. Y/n was probably waiting inside to give him an earful about disappearing for a week, but Tho'lo didn't know that. "Yeah, man. I heard." He sneered, his cocky attitude back in full swing. "I'd wish you luck, but I think it'd be fairer if I gave you a little advice instead..." Lo'ak lowered his voice and pointed his dagger in the direction of Tho'lo chest. "If you, or anyone of your friends, come sniffing after y/n again, just know you're going to have to get through me first." He snarled, showing a full set of teeth, before heading back inside to see y/n.

"Hey..."

"Hey? That's all you have to say?" At least she was still lucid enough to be mad at him, Lo'ak thought. There was still time. Y/n threw the first thing she could find at his head, but Lo'ak managed to dodge it. "Where were you?"

"I was sick." Lo'ak said, and cautiously sat down next to her. He didn't know how else to describe what he'd been through, without inadvertently bringing up her own situation.

"Sick?" Y/n asked, still not understanding why he'd been away from home if he'd been ill.

"I'm sorry I missed your ceremony." Lo'ak said truthfully, the regret clear in his voice, even though he'd just avoided her question. "And the dream hunt, and all of it... the reason why doesn't matter, I should have been there for you."

Y/n hugged her knees to her chest, her worry not subsiding at all. What could have been so bad, Lo'ak couldn't even tell her about it?

"So... you're going to be mated soon..." Lo'ak didn't even know why he said it, other than the fact he was always the one to break the silence and say the things others wouldn't. "Why are you making your parents choose for you?" He asked when she didn't respond. "Y/n you know that's stupid..."

"What? Now honoring our traditions is stupid?" Y/n snapped at him, barely leaving any distance between them. "Weren't you the one who said I acted like I didn't care? That I should start doing what's expected of me?" She threw his words back in his face and Lo'ak immediately understood how the entire insane idea of an arranged marriage had come to her in the first place. He'd made her feel less than worthy, like she wasn't grateful enough to be part of the people, and now she was trying to make up for it, even though it was never true in the first place.

"Y/n... I never should have said those words... I wasn't myself that day, you have to believe me..." Lo'ak implored her, but it wasn't enough to keep the tears from rushing down her face.

"Well, it doesn't matter now..." Y/n kept half the truth to herself. She'd childishly thought that Lo'ak would have tried to prevent her from her recklessness and chosen her himself. But clearly, it had been a fantasy. "Lo'ak, I know what's happening to me... and I'm scared, I don't know what's worse, facing it alone or...or..."

Lo'ak pulled y/n into his arms then, holding her close as he felt her tremble against his chest. "You won't have to face this on your own, and... and I'll make sure you'll be with someone worthy, who'll take good care of you..." His words were like daggers to her chest, because there was no one else she could ever want besides him, yet she understood Lo'ak was trying his best to comfort her. Y/n buried her face in the crook of Lo'ak's neck, breathing in his scent. It was a lot stronger now, and only at that point did she realize so many things about his appearance had changed.

There were two small glands, one on either side of his neck, where his scent seemed to be strongest, and she was suddenly overcome by the need to be covered in it. Y/n began to purr softly, rubbing her face against Lo'ak's neck, not really knowing what she was doing other than chasing after the feeling of comfort and protection that came along with dousing herself in Lo'ak pheromones. "What are you doing, y/n?" Her bestfriend asked, his voice sounding considerably deeper than it had been a few seconds ago. "Feels nice." Was the entirety of the explanation she gave him, without showing any intention of stopping. Not that Lo'ak wanted her too.

He suddenly understood why she'd come to his tent in the first place, and that was to seek out whatever still held his scent, to numb out any feverish symptoms her pre-heat was going to throw at her. Lo'ak knew they were treading a dangerous line, but he also knew he would have given anything to have felt any sort of comfort during his rut, and he couldn't bring himself to tear himself away from her. The type of contact y/n was craving at that moment was completely harmless, yet the idea that she needed to be marked with his scent so badly made a Lo'ak feel possessive in a way he hadn't even known was possible. "Yeah? Is that what's been stressing you out, baby?" He cooed, wrapping her braid around his hand and tugging it softly. "You just wanted to breathe in my scent, didn't you?"

Y/n whined at his touch and nodded feverishly at his words. "Y-yes... I missed you, and I didn't know where you were. I just knew you were hurt..." She rambled, but Lo'ak kissed her temple, trying to let her know that there was no need to worry about him. "I'm right here, I'm sorry I was away. I let you down. I should have been here to help you with your nest. Look at this, you did it all by yourself, huh? Good girl." Lo'ak praised her, letting out a deep-sounding purr to let y/n know how impressed he was with her. Y/n nodded, smiling as she basked in Lo'ak's praise. "I did it for you, I wanted to be here when you got back..."

Lo'ak had to remind himself all he was doing was for the sake of helping y/n deal with how increasingly hormonal and emotional she was about to become over the next few days, and nothing that was saying in that moment held any real meaning. Somebody else would get to take care of y/n, and somehow he'd ended up on the council of people who got to determine who that person was going to be. As long as he kept his own feelings out of it, there was no reason why y/n shouldn't have stayed with him.

"Thank you, baby..." Lo'ak whispered softly and brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her wrist. "I'm going out to get you something to eat now, do you want to come? Or do want to stay here?"

"No." Y/n wrapped herself around him like a vine. "Stay."

"Huh-uh, it's like that, is it?" Lo'ak chuckled, powerless against her death-grip. So he took the opportunity to have a lie down. Unlike y/n, he was missing several hours of sleep. "Well, I'm not going to argue with the woman who has me in a choke-hold... and sleeping will do you some good too..." He sighed, resting his arms around her middle. It didn't take long for Lo'ak to pass out completely.

When Lo'ak woke up, y/n seemed to have been long gone. Someone had also brought him some food and water while he'd been resting. Lo'ak hurriedly ate something, before heading out to look for y/n, but he didn't end up needing to look too far. Moat had been in the middle of examining y/n when Lo'ak showed up out of the blue.

"Ever heard of privacy? Get out of here, skxawng!" Y/n yelled at him, and Lo'ak immediately did as he was told. At least y/n seemed to be once again lucid and back to normal. For the time being. And now that he knew she was alright he really didn't have any other excuse to be around her, so he left.

Lo'ak finally found the time to get back to his training, something he now did in private. It was embarrassing to perpetually remind the rest of the clan of his failure, and he would not ask his father or brother for help. His mother however, was a lot more difficult to get away from. And she understood more than most. "My son, it is clear you are hurting... we have not seen you for days... "

"So? What good is showing my face when I have failed you?" Lo'ak turned away in shame. He did not need anyone to look out for him, not anymore.

"Stubborn! Just like your father." Neytiri hissed at him, bonking him on his head with her bow and not too gently either. "It is clear... that Eywa made you and y/n to be together. Do not treat me as if I do not see. I see you, my son."

Lo'ak broke down as soon as he heard those words. It was true, he had been pushing his family away, but simply because he hadn't thought himself capable of facing them. What would his mother think of the twisted game he'd gotten himself in? What kind of example was he setting for his younger sister? He didn't deserve to be around any of them until he somehow managed to make things right.

Neytiri hugged him, even though it was something they hadn't done in a long time. She had immediately known how strong and independent her youngest son was from a very early age, and she feared that it may have been the reason why, out of all of her children, he'd most often been left to his own devices while she and Jake were forced to tend to the others.

"You have not failed us, Lo'ak. But you must still fight for y/n... and I will help you."

The next few days went by in a blur. If he wasn't training with his mother to successfully pass the Iknimaya on his second try, he was making sure to steer away y/n's parents from any candidates they may have seriously been considering to be her mate without seeming too obvious. If a certain potential candidate began to seem like a real threat to Lo'ak, then he would personally seek them out to politely dissaude them himself.

"If you ever try to talk to y/n, ke-he, you ever even look in her direction or... you just as much as think of her again, I'm dragging you out of your tent while you sleep and leaving you out to die in the forest. And trust me, the viperwolves will finish whatever meat the Thanator doesn't tear off your bones first."

The Na'vi might have been dangerous, but they were a peaceful people. Humans had been the ones to bring war upon them. And Lo'ak had begun to realize just how much of a scary breed he was of the two things. He was now turning on his own kind, on the very same members of his clan, his brothers and sisters. He was cheating and lying to get his way, just like a human would. And the scariest part was, that realization was bothering him less and less as time went on. Y/n's heat was approaching fast, and as a consequence, he was getting more protective and territorial by the day.

While y/n had been able to keep her head in the beginning, only going through a few 'fever dreams', as Lo'ak liked to call them, in a single day and quickly recovering from them, it was now rare to come back and find her to be lucid rather than not. She had a few lulls, here and there, where it was once again possible to get her to have a coherent conversation, but those instances were now few and far in between. Lo'ak would have to seize those opportunities to take her out so she could have a walk, drink or eat something, and show her parents she was still alive. One night he'd even managed to take her all the way out to the ponds for a swim, something she'd always loved, but she was way past that point now.

Y/n slept most of the days off; the nights were the real problem. Due to her body temperature slowly increasing to the point where it was eventually going to be unbearable for her, y/n had taken to refusing to wear any sort of clothing. Which was particularly hard on Lo'ak, especially since her body was also changing in ways that weren't so subtle. As much as he tried not to look, it seemed as if both her breasts and her hips were filling out little by little each day. By that point, he was sure it was some specific torture that had been crafted for him especially, but it all came to pale into comparison when most nights were spent treating the aches of y/n's fever.

"You need to drink some water for me, baby..." Lo'ak would try to encourage her. "I promise you'll feel a lot better if you do..." Y/n was struggling, and Lo'ak was thankful for the fact that after making a bit of a fuss she would eventually listen to him. He couldn't think of a single other person who would've had the same amount of care and patience to make sure she was eating and drinking regularly throughout her heat, and there was hardly any time left before she was completely under the influence. A decision was going to be made whether he liked it or not.

The only problem was that now, he didn’t know if he was going to be able to stand aside when the time came for her to leave. The two of them had gotten somewhat... close during their time together. Close in a way that Lo'ak was certain didn't apply to being best friends. Y/n had suffered a great deal the night her scent glands came in, two on her neck, two on her inner thighs, and one on each of her wrists, and Lo'ak had almost mistaken the event for the beginning of her heat. The sweetness of her scent had him so out of his mind, and he would have torn himself away from her if she hadn't been holding on to him for dear life. "Don't go, Lo'ak, please..." y/n had begged him through choked sobs.

Lo'ak still didn't know if he'd made the right choice to stay, because of everything that happened afterward. He peppered y/n's skin with kisses as usual, trying to bring her comfort, only this time the need to taste and sink his teeth into her was almost uncontrollable. "Y/n, I don't think I should be here..." Lo'ak tried to say, having never felt so at war with himself. Y/n shook her head and caught his lips in a kiss, completely tearing down any ounce of doubt he may have still had. For the time being. The fact that she was promised to another suddenly didn't matter anymore, and the two of them were painfully aware y/n had been dripping with slick from the moment Lo'ak had pulled her into his arms. They were all over each other instantly, reaching desperately for one another in the dark. The sound y/n made when he breached her walls was the most beautiful thing Lo'ak had ever heard, and they fucked so desperately, he was almost ashamed of it afterward.

Almost.

"I told you, my sweet syulang..." He teased, regretfully having to pull out of her for the second time. "You're not ready to take my— a knot, I mean..." Lo'ak kissed her whines away, only taking a few more strokes before coating her belly will his warm seed. "But I want to try again, weakling..." Y/n huffed, having absolutely no mercy for her spent companion as she climbed on top of him. Lo'ak let out a groan and a laugh at the same time, pulling her in for a hug. "You have come so many times, I am literally covered in your slick... and since you're clearly in the right mind to give me attitude..." he pinched y/n's ass cheek and she yelped, slapping his chest. "You're more than capable to come with me for a swim and... help me clean up all this later..." Y/n had bit him in protest but eventually complied with his unreasonable demands.

In those moments with her, Lo'ak had felt so happy he'd almost forgotten what the future actually had in store for the two of them. Even though now he knew y/n so deeply, both at a mental and physical level, another would be the one to marry her. Another would the one to make a lifelong bond with her, mark her and mate with her.

'Sometimes I don't understand how another can love her, is allowed to love her, since I love her so completely myself, so intensely, so fully. I grasp nothing, know nothing, have nothing but her!' Kiri had once read out those words from one of her mother's old books, since the ability to read and write in English had always been important to his sister. At the time, Lo'ak had made fun of her, saying it was all a bunch of boring nonsense. Now, those words haunted him. Every day. And here he was now, acting in the worst of ways just to hold on to y/n for just a second longer, have every part of her until the was nothing left for anyone else to aspire to.

When he walked into the tent that night, y/n was sitting upright and wearing a large white T-shirt Lo'ak had stolen from the RDA supplies. Lo'ak was happy to see she was doing her best to eat some fruit, and the awkward smile she gave him made him understand she currently had her wits about her. "Moat came by... she said it will happen tomorrow... and she gave me... something to help with the pain. Medicine, I think. She told me... my mate will have to take me away. I can't stay here with the rest of the clan while it happens, it might be dangerous-"

Lo'ak shook his head, raising his hands as he tried not to laugh bitterly at the sadness of the situation. How could she talk about it so calmy?

"I don't want to know, okay?" He tried to say as calmly as he could, but she could hear the distaste in his mouth.

"If you can't even talk about it, then admit what I've known all along." Y/n managed to say in a weak voice. "Lo'ak, I see you... I see you... everything you're doing for me, because of me..."

Lo'ak's ears immediately turned down at the sound of the words he'd been waiting for y/n to say his entire life. His immediate instinct was to shut her out. Now that he wanted nothing more than to say those words back, he knew he was only going to make irreparable damage. He'd justified the fact they'd been having sex in secret because it wasn't uncommon for their people to do so, nor forbidden. The only problem of course was that he and y/n were painfully aware of being in love with someone who couldn't commit to them. They had chosen to live in the most blissful of lies until their time together was up.

Well, that time was now.

"Spend my heat with me." Y/n said, not even posing it as a question.

"I can't! How hasn't that gotten through to you yet?" He asked angrily, hating himself for the way she instinctively flinched at his words. Lo'ak got down on his knees, kneeling in front of her. "Ngaytxoa." He asked y/n for her forgiveness. "Oeya syulang, you deserve to be with someone who has shown enough strength and honor to be part of the people... If we'd only had more time, I... but you cannot face your heat alone, nor will I allow you to tie yourself to someone who is not worthy. Who may never be." Y/n had begun to cry at this point, and Lo'ak could feel that he'd been joining her soon. "An outcast. Someone like me."

Simply put, if Lo'ak had spent y/n's heat with her, got her pregnant, and then ended up dying on the Halleluja mountains on his second or third attempt at his Rite of passage, not to mention the unpredictableness of surviving the Dream Hunt as well, he would have committed the cruelest act of all: giving his mate false hope before leaving them behind forever, all for the sake of getting what he wanted.

"You are... impossible..." Y/n cried. "You say these words, therefore you must believe I deserve to be with someone I do not love when I have already chosen the man I belong to and he has chosen me... do you not understand that would kill me just as much as being alone would? I know you went through your rut alone, Lo'ak... I know you went through that pain and survived, Moat told me. I am willing to take that risk, and wait for you."

Lo'ak looked into her eyes then, and it seemed to y/n he was having a realization. Had she finally gotten through to him? She knew her chances of survival were slim, and she hadn't exactly prepared, but after finding out Lo'ak loved her as much as she did, he would sooner risk her life to be happy with him in the end than choose someone else.

Suddenly he was grabbing her face and kissing her, pulling away just as quickly. "I'll be back by morning... there's something... important I have to do." Lo'ak saw the look of distress on her face as he stood up. In many ways, I would have been their last night together, and he was leaving. "Trust me, syulang, I beg of you. Nga yawne lu oer."

"I love you, too."

And with that, he was gone from her sight.

As he climbed the path of vines and rocks leading to the banshee rookery, Lo'ak wondered if anyone had ever managed to reach the Halleluja mountains past the eclipse in the dead of night. If that person, whoever they may have been, had been so desperate to have made the attempt even though everyone around them had said they were not ready, because it was a question of life and death for them as much as it was for him. After the initial surprise of having made it to the top, he was immediately aware of a dozen pairs of yellow eyes blinking at him in the dark.

Lo'ak immediately whipped out the yìmkxa, swinging it around a little as he cautiously walked amongst the ikrans. "Didn't mean to spoil your beauty sleep..." He said, counting how many of them had already flown away at the sight of him. "There's just one of you I've come to settle the score with, some motherfucker who threw me off a cliff the other day-"

A very familiar hiss came from out of nowhere and Lo'ak now knew he was looking back at his banshee. "Long time no see bro, I sure hope I didn't ruin any late-night plans." The ikran lunged at him but Lo'ak knew exactly what to do this time, and moved without hesitancy, muzzling the creature's mouth with the yìmkxa. "Me? Oh you know, my girl is going through the worst experience of her life--- shit, stop that, man--- where was I? Oh right, I'm supposed to be back home with her, yet I'm out here, dancing around with you. Bet you can't wait to get inside this head, huh? Hope you enjoy all the angst, you mother-"

With a final struggle and a minor chunk taken out of his leg, Lo'ak was able to make the connection. The ikran, his ikran, immediately calmed down and let out a pained sound, that Lo'ak recognized as being directed at him.

"Yeah, well... no worries bro." He sighed from exhaustion and patted the banshee's neck. "Now let's get out of here, I don't have all goddammed night."

By the early hours of the morning, Lo'ak had returned aching from the fight with the ikran and still disoriented from the self-induced high he'd given himself with whatever concoctions he'd found in his grandmother's hut to make himself find his spirit animal. No matter what anybody said, he'd completed his rite of passage and now he was going to tell y/n they could be together. Y/n however, was not where he'd left her. Moat found him soon after, and after reprimanding him for stealing her supplies and acting so recklessly, she told him y/n's parents had chosen Tholothian to be her mate and they had left not even an hour prior to Lo'ak's arrival. The Na'vi, much to his grandmother's protests, immediately set off to find them.

With the sunlight by his side and the ability to fly over the forest, it didn't take long for Lo'ak to recognize Tho'lo's ikran resting on top of a branch and its rider wandering the forest below.

"I thought I told you to stay away from her." Lo'ak snarled, quickly dismounting from his ikran.

"Stay out of this, Sully. The fact that you did the bare minimum this time, doesn't get you a prize." Tho'lo took a threatening stance against him. Lo'ak immediately noticed his bow and dagger were missing, and that he had a large cut across his chest. "Y/n was left in my care and responsibility-"

"She attacked you." Lo'ak accused Tho'lo, charging at him with everything he had the very next second. "What did you do?" He roared with a murderous look in his eyes as he held his knife to his rival's throat. "What could you have possibly done to her to leave you stranded out here, huh?"

"What I have done? What have you done, Lo'ak?" Tho'lo accused him back, sounding all too calm for Lo'ak's liking. "She has clearly chosen you, I see that now. I had known you two were close, but I never thought it went beyond you recklessly amusing yourself with her. I never would have accepted her parents' decision if I had known-"

"The why. the fuck. did she attack you?" Lo'ak growled, actively losing his patience by the second.

"Because she's in a heat, you moron. She won't be with anyone who isn't you now that the two of you have clearly done everything except maybe name your future children...I just wish someone had warned me, so I wouldn't have to be here right now!" Lo'ak stepped back from Tho'lo then, realizing he had just been assuming the worst of someone who was meant to be his brother-in-arms. "She attacked me not two minutes after we were in flight. I thought she was going to kill my ikran so I got us all down to the ground. She escaped of course, but I still couldn't leave her out here... "

Lo'ak nodded, ashamed of all the grief his actions had caused. But he didn't even have time to dwell on it, or make things right with Tho'lo, because y/n was still out there, scared and alone.

"I'm sorry, brother-"

"I'll forgive you when you find her and bring her home in one piece." Tho'lo cut him off, calling his ikran and mounting it. "And I know you threatened others just as easily as you have just accused me. That's what separates you from the rest of the people, Sully. You reek of anger and distrust, toward yourself and others. You are selfish, just like the rest of the sky people. Whatever y/n sees in you... must be the true reason why I'm still willing to call you brother."

After a few minutes of frantic wandering, Lo'ak picked up y/n's scent and it didn't take him long to track her down. She'd hidden herself in a small cave behind the waterfall, a place they'd both discovered once when they were out hunting. The closer he got, the more overpowering the influence of her sweet pheromones became. As he climbed his way up to the cave, mindful of the water cascading above him, he knew she could sense his presence too because she began to call out his name. Lo'ak could hear the strain in her voice and ended up cutting his hands and feet several times on the rocks as he made his reckless endeavor all the way to the safe haven she'd chosen.

He looked up to see her looking down at him, and he made one last stupidly dangerous jump to get her away from the edge. "Where were you? You told me to wait, I waited for you but- you are hurt!" Y/n reached for him, she was shuddering violently and unable to keep herself from crying. Lo'ak knew exactly what kind of pain she was going through, and he had to dissuade her from fretting over his wounds.

"I know, I'm sorry Oeya syulang, I'm right here now. I'm with you..." Lo'ak kissed y/n, making quick work of getting rid of whatever fabric was left to separate them. He let out a guttural sound at the copious amount of slick that gushed out of y/n simply from his touch. "Lo'ak, it hurts..." Y/n begged him, holding onto Lo'ak so tight he was pretty sure she was going to end up rearranging his bones.

"I know baby, you're burning up..." He kissed her neck, feeling how scolding her skin was as she lowered herself onto his cock, taking him all the way with a desperate moan of relief. Y/n seized up around him and coated him with a second wave of slick, high on the feeling of finally having her mate buried deep inside of her. "Fuck--you really needed me bad, didn't you baby?" Lo'ak groaned, unable to even comprehend what was happening around him anymore. Y/n's cunt was impossibly tight and warm, and she was making a complete mess on his lap.

His mate nodded and began to ride him in earnest, her stamina never breaking for a second. Lo'ak was so in awe, he could barely keep up with her. Their moans and whines echoed off the walls of the cave, and Lo'ak knew y/n was desperate to get knotted. "You need to... relax syulang." He kissed her face when she began to whine in frustration. "Might have to fuck you a few more times before your body is ready for me, sweet thing..."

"But I want--" Y/n was beginning to sound completely unintelligible, but she never once stopped grinding down on Lo'ak, challenging herself to take in deeper and deeper every time. "Such a good girl, look at that..." Lo'ak praised her, earning a deep purr which he happily returned. "Gonna make you a proper nest... so my baby can be nice and comfortable while I mount her later, how does that sound?"

Y/n curled up against his chest at the idea, kissing him deeply and coming on his cock for the fourth time since they'd started (yes, he was keeping count), and without much warning Lo'ak began to feel the his knot forming inside of her. She gasped and began to frantically fuck herself back against it, giddy on the pleasure the foreign experience was giving her. Lo'ak gave a a few more harsh thrusts, until his knot finally popped deep inside y/n's walls, binding them together. "Fuck, baby you can't keep moving anymore..." He groaned, blissed out and slightly amused by y/n's attempts to bounce up on his knot while she was stuck on top of him.

Y/n wasn't particularly shy about being loud, but the sounds she made when Lo'ak finally began to breed her made him want to fuck her all over again right at that moment. "It's... it's so much..." She sobbed, overwhelmed by the constant stream of warm cum that was now pouring into her. Lo'ak wrapped his arm around her and made a second connection between them, bringing their cues together. Immediately he could feel how close she was to climaxing again, and he reched down between them to rub her small bundle of nerves while she was still split on his shaft. "Going to cum on my knot, baby...? You're been such a sweet girl, taking everything I have to give you... once I'm done breeding you, your belly's going to be so pretty and full---"

Y/n gave out another high pitched whine and came thanks to Lo'ak's expert fingers. He managed to lull her to sleep after that, while they were still tied together and in the process of mating. Lo'ak found his sleep to be rather light, keeping an eye open for his vulnerable mate and growling menacingly at any noise he heard coming from outside.

When his knot died down he left y/n to get some much needed rest and set out to get everything they needed to stay in the cave for the rest of the week. He knew that his scent was more than enough to let anyone and anything to stay the fuck away from the cave, and that y/n would have been safe. Even though he'd returned with food supplies and other creature comforts to make a worthy nest, y/n was not too forgiving of his absence and jumped his bones the second he came back. After she'd deemed herself sated, they made their nest together, but it was hard to do anything without eventually getting distracted.

Y/n's belly was beginning to stretch out a little already from their activities and Lo'ak was completely mesmerised by the sight of his cum slipping out of her. So much so he could help but hold her down and get a taste. "Lo'ak... w-want your knot again..." she mewled, tugging fiercely at his braids while he drank down the sickly sweet taste of her slick.

"Oeya syulang, I haven't eaten all day, you can't blame me for wanting a taste... " Lo'ak growled softly before sinking his teeth in the scent gland on her left inner thigh, making her cry out. He soothed the wound with his tongue, lapping up her blood. "Now, you're going to have to behave for me a little, or I'm going to eat you out until you're a sobbing mess... understood?"

Y/n was a lot more partial to taking a break to eat and drink something after that. Lo'ak was not surprised when she feel asleep again, and he curled up around her on the makeshift bed they'd made, holding her close to his chest. He immediately woke up when she began to cry next to him a few hours later, not even thinking twice about mounting her from behind as her kissed her shoulders and reassured her everything was alright.

Y/n was the one to link their queues this time, moaning softly as he began to move. "Still hurts if I'm not inside you, baby?" Lo'ak asked, genuinely worried that the heat was still painful even though y/n was no longer facing it alone. Y/n shook her head and tried to find the right words to express what she was feeling, Lo'ak kissed her temple reassuringly, stroking her tail to soothe her. "J-just now... I think... I think I'm ready..." It took a little while for Lo'ak to understand, but then he felt it through their bond. Y/n was at the peak of her heat, and his next load was sure to get her pregnant. "You're happy..." she said, Lo'ak still forgetting that she could probably feel his heart soaring at that moment.

"Yeah..." He laughed, a little choked up. "Course I'm happy... so fucking happy" Lo'ak placed a hand on y/n's lower belly, firmly holding her there as he picked up his pace, pounding into her deeper and deeper. Y/n bared her neck to him then, submitting and asking him to mark her as his own. "Nga yawne lu oer..." He whispered before sinking his teeth into her scent gland, tasting the blood and sweetness there. Y/n cried out his name, feeling their bond deepen even more and the desperate need to mark Lo'ak just the same.

Both of them felt the exact moment when life began to blossom between the two of them when they were lying in each other's arms some moments afterwards. They were holding each other close and tending to the deep marks they'd left on each other's bodies. Lo'ak spent the rest of the night whispering promises and soft nothings to y/n, and she quelled all his anxieties about his wrongdoings or the fact that his child might have inherited his human features.

After all, she'd never cared for the right profile anyway.

#avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #avatar x female reader #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x you #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak smut #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak sully #lo'ak headcanons #lo'ak x fem reader #lo'ak x omaticaya reader #atwow #atwow imagines #atwow smut #atwow x reader #atwow x you #atwow loak #atwow x y/n #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader angst #loak fluff #loak x reader #loak smut #loak sully

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Tipping Point - Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Silco forces Vander's hand beyond all recourse.

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

"They're like a cult," Vander said, their last night together.

Silco didn't glance up. He'd been sitting at the Drop's table, hands laced under his chin, poring over a map. Black ink, red ink. Blue strings running in between, like the veins in a corpse. He'd been at it all evening, and his eyeballs vibrated. So did the rest of him.

Usually, he'd take the percolating mania and channel it into Sevika. She was a solid presence: always available, always hungry. By now, he'd all but moved into hers and Nandi's flat. There was gossip, as there was bound to be. Neither he nor Sevika gave a toss.

Nandi was gone, and he couldn't shake her loss.

But at least he could fuck his way out of the grief.

That's what he and Sevika did, most nights: fucked, then slept, then fucked again. Mornings, they'd wake with sour mouths, and sour moods. He'd brew her tea, and she'd suck his cock under the table. Afterward, they'd share a plateful of sump-vole fritters, and plot the day's course. Then she'd leave for her patrol, and he'd go to work at the Drop. Evenings, they'd rendezvous at Jericho's. A little more planning, a little more fucking. She'd rub his shoulders, or he'd knead her calf-muscles. She'd feed him bits of smoked sardines, and he'd eat her out until her toes curled. Then, after the drinks were drunk and the dishes were washed, they'd fall into bed again.

Rinse, lather, repeat.

It wasn't love—neither of them was ready for that. But it was easy. It was enough. A rhythm he could fall into; a routine she could count on. Sevika wasn't Nandi. Everything about her was a fraction heavier, harder, coarser. She wasn't soft; she wasn't sweet. But her body was a good one, and her mind a keen one. Her temper could flare; but her humor could cut.

And her laugh, though rare, chased all the shadows out of the gloom.

He could live with that. Hell, he could live for it. Even—love it? In time. When Zaun was theirs, and the dead laid to rest.

Not that night.

That night, the maps wouldn't stop jittering. His mind kept running in circles. Sevika wasn't due till late. There was only Vander.

Only Vander, and his looming shadow.

And Silco's own: darkening the map. 

"A cult, you say?" he said. A fortnight, he thought. The time's nearly up. "That's high praise."

"Is it?" Vander's chin jerked towards the flapping door, where a pair of scrappers had just slunk out. "That lot were practically beggin' for commands. Looked at you like you were a bloody god." He grimaced. "Makes my skin crawl."

"They're useful." Silco stirred the page with a fingertip. "Steady hands."

"An' sharp knives." Vander's brows bristled. "I ain't seen a lick of their faces, but I bet they're young. Too young for this kind of job."

"We were all too young."

"And look what happened." Vander crossed his arms over his chest, his face granite except for the vein throbbing in his temple. His jowls were furred with stubble; all attempts at grooming had ceased the past few weeks.  "The Lanes are crawlin' with their sort lately. They'd kill their own mothers for coin. An' you've got a talent for pickin' the worst."

"Perhaps," Silco rejoined, "I prefer company with an ounce of ambition."

"Ambition's the least of their bloody traits!"

"Vander, use your thick head. We're at war." Silco tapped the maps with an idleness that belied his irritation. "And war needs more than soldiers and stalwart hearts. It needs spies and saboteurs. People who'll do the dirty work without compromising the cause. I have my contacts, and they have theirs. If it weren't for them, we'd have no way to ship our goods."

"We wouldn't have a bunch of cutthroats loose in the Lanes, neither."

"We've always had cutthroats."

"Not this many!" Vander's fist slammed against the table, rattling the glassware. Once, Silco would've jerked. Now, his body-language betrayed nothing. Passions were a volatile commodity; a good leader could ill-afford to succumb to his own. He'd learnt the hard way and meant to profit from the lesson. "They're a fuckin' infestation! Eyes like dead things an' smiles like wolves. They've got no limits. All they want is blood."

"The world's made them that way."

"An' you're the one exploiting 'em."

"I'm offering them a choice."

"Are you?" Vander glowered, looming into his space.  "What are their options, huh? Down the gutter, or up the river? They're not loyal, Silco. They're fanatical. To you."   

"To us," Silco corrected.

"I didn't ask for a cult!"

"Then maybe you should!"

Their eyes locked from across a flashpoint of inches. In their debates, as a rule, Silco weighed Vander's words before his own. It was a practice borne of equity: no partnership comes without compromise. Lately, though, they never debated. He'd get an earful of strident moralism.

Tonight he'd had enough.

"Right now, our plans are only partially done,” he said. “But unless we get every cutthroat, snitch and sneak-thief on our side, they'll be undone. The Wardens will kill us all. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. They'll raze the Lanes to the ground, and salt the ashes. And when the smoke clears, the soft ones—the ones like Nandi, like Lika and her girls, like your two boys—will be put to work. All our children will die before they've a chance to live. Is that what you want?"

"Don't make this somethin' it's not." Vander's jaw jutted. "You think I don't want Topside's boot off our necks? You think I wouldn't give anything to make sure our kids breathe easy? You think I don't think back on Bloody Sunday every single damn day? What was lost? What you—" Silco's head tilted, a basilisk lifting, and Vander backed off just enough to avoid his stare. "...what we could've done."

"Could've. Would've. Should've." Silco's eyes descended to subzero. "All excuses for a failure to act now. Or maybe the Hound's losing his teeth?"

Vander's nostrils flared. He unbent to his full height stepped around the counter, a slow, lumbering turn. His shadow engulfed Silco like a fist.

"If you had any idea," he said, a whiskey-waft of heat. "Any. How much I'd like to—"

"To what?" Silco challenged. "Discipline? Force me to obey? Do try. I could use a spot of fun." 

Vander seized a fistful of his shirtfront. The next moment, Silco found himself being dragged across the countertop. The whiskey glasses toppled to the floorboards. The ledgers and maps scattered. He was half-slung through the air, the room upside-down before the breath was knocked out of him.

His spine hit the wall, legs dangling. A fist pinned him in place.

Vander's features were contorted, a red-hot fury at once leashed and explosive. His fingers closed around Silco's throat. He didn't squeeze. Not yet. But the threat was there.

"D'you even listen to yourself?" he gritted. "D'you have a shred of decency left? Or did Nandi's death knock it all outta you? She'd be ashamed. To see you. To see what you're doin'!"

Silco let one corner of his mouth curl. "What am I doing?"

"You know damnwell what!"

The nights, he meant.

The plainclothesmen gutted in the shadows. Their bodies left in the open where everyone could see. The edge of Silco's knife never clean when he came home.

"It's not the way," Vander said, a hairline crack in his voice. "You know it isn't."

"You haven't stopped me."

"Stopped you?" Vander's knuckles flexed. "I've tried. Every day since you started. I thought...you'd get it out of your system. You'd snap out of it. But you haven't. You won't. You've gotten a taste for it."

"I have a taste for keeping us alive."

"You have a taste for murder!" Vander shook him. "An' I can't keep turnin' a blind eye. You're the best thing that's happened to the Lanes, Blut. If the Undercity had to choose, they'd have my back. But we'd all be six feet under without you! That's why you need to get your shit together. Because when this is over, I won't let you walk away."

"Threats, Vander?"

"This has gone far enough." Vander's pitch dropped. The Hound's warning rumble. "If you cross the line again, I won't hesitate."

"You won't have to."

"What?"

"The Sheriff has issued a search warrant. In a fortnight, the Enforcers will crack down." Silco's eyes went past Vander's shoulder, where the maps had fallen. "A citywide sweep. We'll lose the advantage. Our networks, our stockpiles. Everything. Unless—"

Vander's hold on his neck tightened. "Unless what?"

"We strike first."

"First." Vander's grip stayed immobile. But his stare was no longer a blister. It was a burn: eating Silco alive. "Fuck. This is what you've been planning."

"A smokescreen."

Silco's fingers folded around Vander's wrist. It didn't budge. Vander was strong; the strongest he'd ever known. Struggling was besides the point. Part of him was already prepared to go all the way. To let go and take Vander with him into the freefall of blackness.

"The Enforcers bodies will divert Topside's attention," Silco went on. "Their patrols will be spread thin. The bodies were all near the Canal Zone. They'll believe our operation was concentrated there. Meanwhile, the guardposts at Bridgeside will be understaffed. We'll deploy the squads to transport the ammo. If everything goes as planned, the Lanes will have the full arsenal by tomorrow night. Then, the real war will begin."

"Blut..."

"Think. You'll have everything. A force. Firepower. Enough to drive Topside out of our streets for good."

Vander's fist clenched and unclenched. His eyes roved the room, the empty stools, the felled glasses, the scattered plans. His shoulders caved inward.

It wasn't surrender. It was a man, bracing himself against a massing storm.

"How could you?" he rasped. "Silco, how could you?"

"There is no other way."

"Sevika... she knows about this?"

"We had a talk."

"A talk," Vander repeated flatly. "Of course. You're her damned messiah now. That girl was always prowlin' for someone to take her old man's place. Someone who'd give her orders. Who'd make her feel strong. I told you not to play games with her. To not lead her on. To not—do this!"

With renewed disgust, Vander shoved him away. Silco swayed but kept his balance. Vander's fingerprints burned around his throat.

"That's why you chose her, isn't it?” Vander went on. “Her gang's the most coordinated in the Lanes. The most ruthless. Our folks respect 'em, but they fear 'em, too. They're perfect for what you've got planned." When Silco stayed silent, he shook his head. "For Janna's sake, Blut. She's barely twenty-two. You were supposed to be her family. Her mentor. Not the person who puts the goddamn matches in her hand!"

Silco snapped. Low-blows made for the deepest cuts.

"You used me first, remember? When I was sixteen and you were twenty-one. You knew I'd do anything for you. You knew I'd follow you to the ends of the earth. You've always known, and still you've never had the guts to do what should be done. So I have. Because someone has to. Someone with a spine, and the balls to take what's theirs."

"Fuckin' hell." Vander's face had changed. The lines carved deep, shadows in the hollows of his cheekbones. He looked both worn to the bone, and blasted open. "All these years. All these years... an' you never let it go. Why couldn't you let it go? Why couldn't you forgive me?"

"Why couldn't you?!"

The air was charged with currents. Silco's body sang. Like a sea-change: skin sloughing off, and something raw and primal birthing itself. Something he'd known was always inside him, and was now in its last throes of transformation. He had no name for it but he knew its shape.

It was a part of him. A monster. Same as Vander's.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Silco said softly. "Nor am I giving it. But I am asking you to do what's necessary. For us."

"Us," Vander repeated, the word scraped raw.

"Our city. Because Zaun will die if we don't do this, Vander. So will everyone we love." Silco took a step towards him. Vander shuddered. He felt the tremor. Felt the monster behind it. The two of them: feeding off each other. A decades-long twining of call-and-response. "We can't keep on like this. You. Me. Sevika. Benzo. Lika. We've been fighting our fates since we were children. Now it's time to take the fight to Topside."

"Blut..."

"We can win this. We have the weapons. We have the people. We have the resolve. We just need you." 

“Me?”

"You're the Hound of the Underground. Our champion. Because that's not me, Vander. It will never be me. No matter what those scrappers, or Sevika, or you, or anyone says. That's not who I am."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #arcane vander #vander #arcane sevika #sevika #arcane zaun #zaun #vanco #vander x silco #snippet #sevilco #silco x sevika

[caroldantops]

like a stray to the arms that were open

ship: dark!wanda maximoff x fem!reader; dark(ish)!valkyrie x fem!reader

summary/request:  wanda needs a safe place for her and her pet to stay. valkyrie comes up with a compromise. for @maximotts

word count: 1.9k

warnings: smut (18+), dom!wanda, dom!valkyrie, sub!reader, dark themes (kidnapping, brainwashing), very light pet play (just the term pet and collaring), free use, fingering, overstimulation

masterlist | ao3 link

"Enter." 

Valkyrie absentmindedly sharpens her dagger, not caring about the mess that accumulates on her desk. She watches the cloaked figure move into the room carefully, each step echoing across the tiles. You follow close behind, a shimmering red trail of light linking your bound wrists and the collar around your neck to your owner. You're dressed in a very plain, but delicate light pink silk garment that hits you just at mid-thigh. The two of you together are a stark contrast, but it's rather fitting, Valkyrie thinks. 

"Thank you for meeting with me, your majesty."

"Save your formalities, Wanda," Valkyrie rests her dagger on the table and kicks up her feet, resting her hands folded together on her abdomen. "Or should I say, Scarlet Witch?" 

"Well, since we're dropping the formalities, Wanda is just fine." The king gestures to the seats in front of her desk. Wanda takes one of them, and you remain standing, frozen as you wait for permission. Valkyrie watches you carefully, your gaze set hard on the handcrafted tiles beneath your bare feet. She bets you're freezing in the Nordic air, her raging fireplace at the back of her office doing little to soothe your bare skin. 

But you don't complain. You don't even shiver. 

You've been told to keep quiet and still and wait for your orders, so you do. 

Valkyrie can imagine a laundry list of ways she'd like to test that obedience. 

"Kneel," Wanda finally commands. You drop to the floor, kneeling silently beside her. She rewards you with a gentle stroke along the back of your neck, silent code for good girl. 

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods, witchy?" 

You can feel Wanda's energy radiating off of her, your body and mind deeply in tune with your own by this point, and you can tell she doesn't appreciate the nickname. But, she's here to ask a favor, so she does not take the time to argue about it. 

"I've come to ask if you would be able to provide a safe place to stay. I have been...forced to find somewhere where I can keep a low profile." 

"This about the whole New Jersey situation?" Valkyrie raises an eyebrow. She knows little about Wanda, mainly from Thor, but a certain sorcerer won't stop contacting her with updates on "multiversal threats" as if she has time to give a shit about that. 

"Partially. And some events after that." You see Wanda tap her Darkhold stained fingers against her thigh. A few moments of silence pass as Valkyrie thinks. You dare dart your eyes upwards to see her for briefly, her eyebrows furrowed deep in contemplation. 

"Well, y'see you're putting me in a bit of a dicey situation," Valkyrie sighs dramatically, like she's not plagued by the thought, but rather ready to bargain. "How am I gonna be sure that you're not gonna hold New Asgard hostage?"

"I have no intentions of doing that, Valkyrie," Wanda answers firmly. "What I had there I no longer have. There's no reason to repeat it." 

"Hm. I believe you, y'know, I do. But if word gets out around town that I'm helping harbor a witch on the run, my people might not be very fond of that." The magic chain attached to your collar shifts, tugging slightly as the tension in Wanda's body grows. You squeak at the pressure, and she shoots you a look. Valkyrie also looks back down at you. "Y'know, you haven't properly introduced me to this one." 

"This is my pet," Wanda answers, resting a hand on your head. You take this as cue to meet Valkyrie’s intense gaze over the edge of her intricately carved desk. She leans over out of her chair to see you better, and you shrink a bit under the attention. “In my…cross universe excursions, I found her all alone, just waiting for someone to come along and take care of her. So, I did.”

You lean into Wanda’s touch as she pets you. She wasn’t lying. At least, as far as you remember. She’s flushed out the hard parts, the parts that she didn’t want your sweet little mind plagued with. You didn’t need to remember that you had another Wanda at one point, one who left you for a variant of the man that Wanda thought she wanted back so desperately. 

Lost and alone, desperate for your Wanda to come back. She never would, your new Wanda had told you when she yanked you from your universe, bringing you back to a secluded house in a withering forest. She terrified you, you had no idea what it was that she wanted with you - whenever you asked, all she replied was, “You.” 

Wanda turned you into her prized pet, got rid of all those early memories that were holding you back from being as compliant and obedient as she needed. Every waking moment of your current existence was dedicated to pleasing her. And hers was now dedicated to keeping you safe. 

“Interesting,” Valkyrie hums, sizing you and Wanda up. You can see the gears turning in her head, and you know that there’s no doubt that Wanda is peeking into the King’s mind. But, she doesn’t say anything, just waits for her to bring the thoughts up, which of course, Valkyrie does. “I think that I can manage to house you without raising any suspicions, witch. But you’ve got to sweeten the pot for me.” 

“Just say what you want already,” Wanda says, face stoic. 

“I let you live here, and you - ” Valkyrie points teasingly at Wanda. “ - let me play with your little pet here. Whenever I want.”

 You can’t help but dart your eyes up to your owner. Wanda shows no signs of emotion on her face, not allowing you or Valkyrie to get any sense of where her head is at. Your body shivers at the idea of Valkyrie toying with you. Wanda doesn’t miss it, tugging the magic leash and making you squeak again. 

“I scratch your back, you scratch mine, yeah?” Valkyrie chuckles as Wanda continues to sit in silence. 

“Angel,” Wanda speaks to you. You perk up at her acknowledgement. “You would do anything I asked of you, right? Because you’re my good girl?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you answer with no hesitation. 

Wanda nods, like she knew the answer anyway. Or rather, would’ve decided despite your response. She turns back to Valkyrie. 

“Deal. As long as I’m present.” 

“Course, wouldn’t want me to snatch her away from ya,” Valkyrie grins, offering her hand across the table as if she’s just secured a fancy business deal. Wanda can’t help but roll her eyes as she shakes it. “Can’t wait to break her in. Actually, why even wait?” 

“You’re cashing in already?” 

“I did say whenever I want, didn’t I?” 

“You did,” Wanda breaks the magic tethering you to her. You look up for her guidance of what you’re supposed to do, but you don’t have to sit wondering long. Valkyrie comes around the table and lifts you off the ground with no effort at all, tugging you to bend over the side of the table. 

“C’mon, cupcake, gotta give your mommy a nice view huh?” Valkyrie whispers in your ear as she runs her hands up your bare thighs. She leans away from you to push your slip up over your ass and is pleased to see you’re completely bare underneath. “Wanda trying to freeze you in this weather, love? Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up in no time.”

You’re putty in her hands as she kisses up your spine, leaving small bites along the way that make you squirm against her hold. You feel her laugh against your skin as you wiggle, murmuring to herself how pretty you’re gonna look all bruised up. 

“You like that, baby? You like my mouth on you?” 

Your eyes dart to Wanda yet again. “Answer her, sweetheart. You can speak if she addresses you.” 

“Yes…” You’re unsure of how to address the woman kneeling down so she’s face level with your already dripping cunt, and her breath against you makes it even harder to think. 

“Hm, I think if you have a mommy already, only seems natural you call me daddy, hm?” Valkyrie licks a long stripe through your folds. You moan and buck against her face, her nose nudging your clit as you do. “Or, my king will also do.” 

“Hungry for power much?” Wanda raises an eyebrow. She’s leaned back casually in the plush chair, watching Valkyrie work her pet as if she’s been doing this for years. 

“Like you can talk,” Valkyrie shoots back before diving back into your waiting pussy. “Fuck, she’s delicious.” 

“She is, isn’t she?” Wanda’s voice betrays her, that little arousal filled rasp that you’re so used to coming out as she shifts in her seat. 

“Mm, I know why you wanted to keep her so bad.” 

You feel Valkyrie stroke her fingers along your folds as she takes a break licking you to mark up your thighs. Her rough fingertips rub your clit and dip into your hole teasingly. You can’t help pushing back against her hand, which prompts her to deliver a swift smack to your core. Sharp heat pulses through your cunt as she does, and you cry out for Wanda automatically. 

“Behave, baby,” Wanda responds to your sob. 

“Need more,” you whine. 

“Greedy little thing, are we?” Valkyrie’s fingers return to lazily teasing your clit, now throbbing and swollen. “I’m being so nice to you, and you complain about needing more?” 

“No, no, ‘m sorry,” you cry. “I’ll be good.” 

“Mm, bet you will. Bet your mommy keeps you in line, huh?” Valkyrie rewards your submission with three fingers in your aching cunt. You arch against her, pushing your hips back to meet her deep thrusts. “That’s right, baby, fuck yourself on my fingers. Feels so good, doesn’t it? God, if I’d known I would have a perfect pet bent over my desk today I would’ve brought my strap to work.” 

“She’d love that,” Wanda says. “Loves being filled up so much. Loves being bred too.” 

“Oh yeah?” Valkyrie grins and stands up, fingers never slowing their thrusts as she presses herself against your back. She leans down beside your ear and whispers, “You like being filled up with cum, huh baby? Want me to stuff that tight little pussy full?” 

“Y-yes, please.” 

“Course you do, ‘cuz you’re nothing but a desperate slut. Only desperate sluts let strangers fuck them in front of their mommies.” You can barely respond with more than a whine, but that doesn’t matter to Valkyrie. She feels you clenching around her fingers, and curls them just right against your sensitive spot, ripping a raspy moan from your throat. “There you are baby, cum for me. Show your mommy how good I fuck you.” 

You can feel a surge of wetness gush past Valkyrie’s fingers as she keeps fucking you through your orgasm, uncaring as you go completely limp on her desk. You expect her to pull out soon, but instead you feel another finger pushing inside of your spent hole. Dizzy with pleasure, you hardly notice as your head is lifted and placed in Wanda’s lap. She strokes your hair and shushes your whines as Valkyrie continues pounding into you, stretching you out more than Wanda ever has. 

“Be a good girl and let Valkyrie play with you, baby. She’s gonna take her fill no matter how tired you are, might as well get used to it now.” 

#wanda maximoff x reader #valkyrie x reader #silver writes #c: wanda #c: valkyrie