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baeshijima · 1 year

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— how to woo the acting grand sage 101

wherein you pull out all the stops in an effort to persuade alhaitham on why he should date you, only… he woos you instead?!

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 7.8k wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, angst if you squint, reader gets ill from overwork in one part, slight spoilers for 3.2 archon quest (brief mentions/recap of end events)

A/N : reader is struggling but they’re trying their best, alhaitham is a (smitten) menace and bad at feelings (kinda); the embodiment of u fall first, he falls harder (i just think we need more energetic/cute readers with haitham TヘT)

It wasn’t anything special. Really. Just you, your first day jitters, and the calm boy beside you in his Haravatat beret; the same one as yours.

Perhaps he’d noticed your flitting eyes, your shifting feet, or your wrung hands that swung gently in front of your robe-clad body because, when your eyes met (and, oh, what pretty eyes he had), he gave you a small nod. Of what? Comfort? Acknowledgement? Salutations?

You couldn’t tell, and you couldn’t ask. By the time you regained your senses he’d already walked off, the blank space beside you feeling strangely empty.

It wasn’t anything special.

But to you, that one, singular moment was all you needed; the comfort it gave was immeasurable, your first day jitters nonexistent.

You soon found out his name: Alhaitham. The boy in the matching Haravatat beret, the one who gave you a simple nod, and the one who sat in front of you in class.

As far as first impressions went, he was in your good books! Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for your classmates or your professor. He was aloof and indifferent to your peers, sometimes riling them up with his blunt remarks or blatantly ignoring their presence. As for the professor’s apparent dislike, it was most likely due to him rarely attending class after the first week or so (something about self-study being a better use of his time, if you recalled correctly).

But even so, through all the harsh whispers and scorn you saw surround him, no one could deny his academic prowess. How could they when the scores and praise spoke for itself?

In all honesty, you don’t remember when or how Alhaitham accepted your presence amongst others. It took you a while, sure, but he eventually began taking time out of his own to converse with you. Passing conversations soon turned to greeting each other a good morning and bidding the other a farewell, which then turned to late night study sessions in the House of Daena, which then became a regular hangout spot for you both, and so on and so forth.

Oddly enough, knowing you were the only one he would tolerate was somehow rewarding. While he paid no heed to the world around him and moved at his own tempo, you’d always find him waiting for you up ahead.

In that sense, you were comforted by the idea he would be willing to wait for you — and, undoubtedly, you would wait for him too.

Fast forward a few years and you’re now stuck in a long-term unrequited love for the scribe of the Akademiya.

Lovely.

You’ve had a lot to reflect on these past few years (most of which you’d rather not recall), but one thing seemingly remains stagnant; you love Alhaitham. That’s been something you have long-since accepted, and something you’re sure the entirety of Sumeru City are aware of by now.

While you definitely weren’t one to shy away from your (blatantly obvious) feelings, it doesn’t mean you flaunted your love at every opportunity presented. In fact, you were pretty happy with how things are now!

But, well, you only live once, as they say. And, by process of elimination, that just means you should act on your feelings so that you can either finally move on, or land yourself the most eligible bachelor in Teyvat!

(No one other than yourself thinks that, but hey! One is better than none!)

And so that was the origin story for your journey — Operation: “Get Alhaitham to Fall In Love With Me” was then set into motion!

Step 1: Be upfront with your feelings!

Confess to Alhaitham.

You can do that.

All you have to do is strut up to Alhaitham, ask him to hear you out for a moment, (metaphorically) spill your heart out to the man of your dreams, and anticipate a response! A positive one, preferably.

Easy enough, right?

Well, that’s what it should be. So why is it that you’re now pacing back and forth in front of his office door, mentally rehearsing your pre-written confession you spent too many sleepless nights redrafting until you were somewhat satisfied?

A severe oversight on your part, that’s what.

Hm, maybe I should wait another day. The timing doesn’t feel quite right, and the weather is a bit gloomy for a confession. Yeah, maybe I can just head back and pretend I wasn’t even here—

“I can hear you pacing back and forth even with my earpieces on.”

At the familiar, low intonation, you freeze. Body stiff, you slowly turn your head to the man leaning cross-armed against the door frame, an unimpressed look greeting you.

Crap. Was I really that loud...?

With one brow raised and a slight frown tugging his lips, he gives a once-over at your haggard appearance. It doesn’t take long for his expression to morph into one of concern as he takes a step away from the door frame and closer to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks, eyes honed in on yours; or more specifically, the area under your eyes. “You look like you haven’t slept for a decade.”

It sure feels much longer than that...

“I’m alright. I think. Wait. That’s not important right now,” you stammer, head shaking to regain your resolve. Ignoring the judgemental look cast upon you, you lift your head to meet his gaze, fists clenching in an effort to disperse your nerves. “I have something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?��

And with a deep breath and eyes squeezed shut, you blurt out, “I think you’re really good-looking! I really like you, too! Like, a lot! And you have super pretty eyes! And really fluffy hair! And you’re really smart, though you can be a bit of a pain... And... And you have a nice physique!”

Silence.

Under the weight of his blank stare and the impending doom known as ‘silence’, it takes a drawn out second for a horrified gasp to escape you. Belatedly, you realise your absolute abomination of a screw-up — an insatiable urge for the ground to swallow you whole consumes all remaining sense of rationale (which isn’t all that much, really).

Aaaaaaahhhh I went completely off script!!

Perhaps sensing your next move, Alhaitham snaps out of his stupor and begins reaching out for you. “Wait—”

“Ha-Have a good night!”

And then you’re sprinting off into who knows where, leaving Alhaitham stranded at his office doorway with an arm outstretched in your fading direction and a dumbfounded expression settled on his features.

Disgruntled, he rubs the bridge of his nose, the heat washing over him doing little to help reorganise his thoughts. “It’s eight in the morning, not eight in the evening...”

(Alhaitham’s never been more grateful for his soundproof earpieces. Not only does it tune out the outside world at his beck and call, but it also prevents you from seeing the tips of his ears stained a scarlet hue; this being one time out of the many.)

Mission Status: Success...?

Step 2: Give him flowers! A bouquet never hurt anyone!

“Tighnari!”

At the call of his name, Tighnari’s ears flick and perk up. In a swift movement, he turns his head to witness you dashing towards him with a grin, hands waving manically in the air.

“How many times have I told you not to run?” he tuts, head shaking in exasperation. But even with his nagging, you can still detect the smile seizing his lips from a mile away as he begins approaching to meet you halfway.

When you come to a stop in front of him, you merely beam. “Not enough times!”

“Clearly.”

“Anyway,” you begin, “as much as I’d love to stay and chat, have you prepared what I asked for?”

He scoffs at your request, “Of course. Just who do you take me for?”

“The bestest, most reliable friend ever, of course!”

You don’t think you’ve ever witnessed someone switch to a deadpan so quickly before.

“Buttering up to me only goes so far, y’know.”

Amidst your grumbles and his chuckles, he leads you back to his house in Gandharva Ville. You’ve always enjoyed the Forest Watcher’s presence, and you’re glad he’s happier now compared to his time in the Akademiya.

The trek back was filled with your usual back-and-forth, lively chatter making its way up and filling the air.

(“Oh, is that a new essential oil?”

“So you’ve noticed. I see your sense of smell is evolving.”

“Well, it’s an entirely different scent from the last one, and I think I’d have to be a little nose-blind to not notice.”)

When you make it back to his abode, you find a bouquet already neatly wrapped up and propped against the wall. A sweet, calm aroma wades through the air, becoming more potent the closer you get.

Simply put, it’s perfect.

With this, I can move on from my previous embarrassment!

“Thank you again, Tighnari. I owe you one. Oh,” you gasp upon remembering something, “and be sure to send my regards to Collei.”

“Don’t mention it,” he responds with a smile and a nod to your request before bidding you farewell. “Be careful on your way back! Be mindful of your step and any stray roots in the ground. Wouldn’t want you to trip and tumble down, after all.”

“I thought we were past that already...”

“What?!”

“Apologies,” the scholar in front of you replies, scratching the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. “Scribe Alhaitham left earlier in the day to explore some ancient runes in the desert...”

You’re pretty sure your heart just cracked.

“It can’t be...” you murmur. The bouquet in your hand feels heavy, just like your heart.

The scholar panics at your apparent dejection, wracking his brain in an attempt to rectify the predicament at hand. “When he comes back, I could tell him you were looking for him?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just... see him when I see him...”

You manage a small smile at his efforts, but the scholar only spirals into further panic when you trudge away with a gloomy aura hanging above.

I’m sorry, Tighnari. I’ve failed you and your botany skills...

Mission Status: Fail...

Step 3: Show him you can be dependable!

It’s a good day.

The sun’s out, the birds are chirping, and there’s not a single cloud up in the sky!

Yeah, it’s a good day if you ignore the stacks of paperwork piled up on your desk.

Dejectedly, you sigh and slump against the wood. You can already feel the forthcoming headache from just a single glance at the blurred words. Ideally, you wish everything could just be signed and done with at the mere thought. Realistically, you know that’s next to impossible.

...Maybe putting off your work and procrastinating wasn’t the smartest of decisions but, well, it’s too late now! Guess you’ll just have to suck it up and pull a couple all-nighters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately.

“Well,” you sigh to yourself, stretching your arms overhead, “good luck to me, I guess...”

(Distantly, you hear Alhaitham’s voice in the back of your mind reprimand you for leaving your work to later, but you swat the thoughts away without missing a beat and get started on the first pile.)

“[...me].”

“[Nam...].”

“[Name]!”

You gasp, shooting up from your slouched position. Though you come to regret the action when a sharp pang pierces through your conscience, eliciting a harsh wince to leave you. Immediately you fall forward and clutch your head, another pair of hands grasping your shoulders to steady you.

Huh...?

“Are you alright?” A cold hand makes contact along the expanse of your forehead and you subconsciously lean into the touch. “You’re burning up... When was the last time you rested?”

At the prompt, you strain your eyes to the left. Eyes squinting, you can barely make out a blurry figure, but the mesh of white, purple, red, and tan has you murmuring his name, “Cyno...?”

“Yes, it’s me.” His image wavers, and you can no longer distinguish his features. “You... last slept... hey... [...me]!”

His voice bleeds into white noise — drowned out by the world tipping on its axis before eventually it, too, is consumed by darkness.

Groaning through the overbearing warmth and fragmented light against your closed eyes, you breathe out a sigh and shuffle in place, trying to find a comfortable spot. Burrowing further into the duvet you feel yourself relaxing.

A musky scent surrounds you; one that’s warm and familiar, tinged with an aroma of worn pages and nature. The blends are few and far between, and yet they harmonize perfectly — its calming undertones help further relax you.

In the back of your mind, there’s a nagging feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting. But just what is it...

Your eyes snap open, heart lurching.

“Ah! The paperwork!”

In the midst of your frantic actions, a weight falls off your shoulders and tumbles onto your lap. Mouth agape and breathing erratic you look down, only to blink at the familiar item.

Alhaitham’s cape...?

“Lie down.”

Your shoulders jump when a voice comes from your left. Before you have time to protest, you feel yourself gently pushed back into bed, the covers lifted back up to your chin and Alhaitham’s cape draped on top once more. Though your movements are slightly restricted, you can still just about turn your head.

Alhaitham’s silhouette against the sunrise is hunched in your chair; elbows on knees, hands wrung together, and gaze focused on the ground. When your sight clears up, you notice his hair looks more dishevelled than usual.

You continue watching him as he heaves a light sigh and reaches over to his side. His hands wring a small cloth, water seeping out as his knuckles turn white from the pressure exerted. When he turns to you, the newly dampened cloth laid across your forehead, he doesn’t make eye contact. No, it’s more like he’s avoiding looking at you in general.

An awkward cough escapes you and he flinches ever so slightly at the sound. “How long have I been out for?”

“Two days.”

“I see,” you murmur. “Ah. Where’s Cyno? It’s kinda blurry, but the last I remember is him waking me up.”

“He’s busy.”

“Oh... Okay.”

A suffocating silence lapses over you after his blunt responses. It’s been a while since he’s spoken like this to you, so you’d be a bit of an idiot to not realise he’s mad. As for the reason why... Well, you’d rather not acknowledge the cause, even if you have a feeling he’ll bring it up sooner or later.

“[Name],” Alhaitham calls, voice low and even.

Averting you gaze, however hard you may wish for it, doesn’t help you avoid the inevitable confrontation set in stone. (That still doesn’t stop you from subtly lifting up the covers.)

His voice comes out weak and fuzzy against the ringing in your ears. “Why... didn’t you say anything? That you were ill? Were you going to just sit through it and not say a single word at all? Did you plan on pulling all-nighters again, even when you were on the verge of collapsing? What do you think would’ve happened if I didn’t overhear some scholars talking about how you fainted and had to be carried by the General Mahamatra?”

If this were you any other day, you’re sure you would’ve been over the moon at the sight of Alhaitham being the first thing you see upon waking up — taking care of and worrying over you on top of that. But alas, you’re sick and the string of questions he directs towards you does nothing but irritate you, the dull ache that previously lingered like white noise now blaringly clear.

“I don’t know. I guess I just—” you wince at the pain shooting through your head, “—I just thought there was no point so long as I get it done quickly then rest after. It was my fault I left it till recently.”

“Besides,” you add in a whisper, straining your eyes in an effort to stay awake, “you don’t like incompetent people, and I... didn’t want you to think that of me...”

“...”

It was quick.

One moment you felt warm and feverish, but now you feel warm and feverish and your forehead stings.

“Don’t be so stupid,” he retorts nonchalantly.

You’re dumbstruck, for a lack of better words. Through widened, bleary eyes you can just about register his unreadable expression, lips taught and brows furrowed slightly in your direction. A weak “What...?” slips through your lips, hoarse and broken.

For some reason, Alhaitham’s expression morphs. One of his hands tightens around yours (when did that get there...?) while the other reaches over to wring out a newly dampened cloth. He stays quiet, gaze avoiding yours as he focuses on wiping away the sweat clinging to your face while being mindful of the cloth already on your forehead.

“If you’re struggling, tell me. Don’t keep these things to yourself. And don’t...” he trails off with a grimace, and you barely catch sight of his lower lip tugged back by his teeth before it’s overshadowed by his hair. “Don’t ever think of yourself as incompetent again. You’re far from it.”

Oh...

Oh.

Out of all the things Alhaitham could have possibly said, you weren’t anticipating assurance and comfort.

“I... Uh... Hm. Okay,” you bumble like the fool you are, thoughts incoherent at the unexpectedly caring words. The only form of acknowledgement you received was him gently patting your hand; if you had the energy to squint, you could probably detect a teeny smile teetering the corners of his lips, but that could also be your half-delirious brain making stuff up like usual.

A cool sensation lands on your forehead, regulating the overwhelming heat permeating through your body. The sudden weight forces your eyes to close for a brief second and, upon opening them again, you find Alhaitham rummaging through his belt pouch. When he sits upright again, your attention is drawn to the object resting on his lap.

A... book?

“I’ll read to you,” he announces, probably noticing your blatant stare at the hardback cover now in his hand. He’s still avoiding your gaze, more interested in the book’s cover as his thumb traces over its surface.

There’s a brief pause.

Then, for the first time since you awoke, Alhaitham looks at you.

“It’s the new light novel from that author you like.”

“Huh? You mean...“ you trail off, eyes darting to take a closer look at the illustrated cover. A gasp soon escapes you after confirming it is, in fact, exactly what he said. “No way! You can’t even get this version unless you pre-ordered it months in advance! Wait, did you...?”

Another silence settles in your room. He averts his gaze to the side again, lips pursing as you send an accusatory stare his way, but shifts his sights back to you just as quickly.

“Enough talking, more resting.”

“But—”

“I’m opening the novel now.”

Despite your huff and low grumbles, you settle back in your bed and tug the duvet up to your chin. You listen to his low, comforting voice narrate the first couple pages, a familiar warmth vastly different to this feverish one washing over you. Your nose makes contact with the fabric of his cape and his scent surrounds you, coaxing your ailed body into a much-needed slumber.

Eyelids heavy, you use your last remaining strength to mumble your gratitude before drifting off, a content smile resting on your lips.

“Thank you, Haitham...”

Alhaitham’s breath hitches, eyes widening and the novel in his hand nearly slips from his grasp. His head snaps up to stare at you, only to find you already fast asleep with a few soft snores escaping you. He stays silent for a moment, taking a moment to process the sleep-induced words you’d uttered; namely the nickname you addressed him with.

Right. [Name] was merely influenced by the sickness and drowsiness. Don’t read too much into it.

Even after confirming that to himself, he continues to read the novel aloud to your unconscious self, replenishing the cloth at frequent intervals and staying by your side.

Even after confirming that to himself, Alhaitham finds himself unable to extinguish the heat that persistently clings to his skin — neither does the soft smile nor the flutter stirring in his stomach seem to have any intention of leaving; even more so at the sight of you burrowing into his cape.

Mission Status: Failed successfully!

Step 4: The fastest way to one’s heart is through their stomach! (Read: give them food.)

A lot has happened over the past couple weeks. Other than Azar and his minions being overthrown and Lesser Lord Kusanali being freed from solitary confinement by a few of your friends, Alhaitham is now the Acting Grand Sage!

Well, you only heard about this recent development from Cyno and Tighnari after returning from an expedition to decode some ancient runes in the desert. Not the welcome back you were expecting, but a welcome back nonetheless!

And upon confronting Alhaitham about his involvement in the rebellion you’d heard so much of (Cyno sure had a blast detailing his annoyance and praise over your last Genius Invokation TCG match), he merely heaved an exasperated sigh before adamantly explaining to you it wasn’t his intention to have his current position, but “Since everyone is so incompetent, I’m the only capable person who can take charge.”.

(His words, not yours.)

In all honesty, it almost feels like he’s still the scribe with how often you see him — as though nothing has changed and his duties are still the same. Though the same can’t be said with the other scholars and researchers, you suppose.

Recently, you’ve had more researchers come up and ask you to deliver papers to Alhaitham in their stead. Their reason? Well, it typically fell under one of two categories; “The Acting Grand Sage never spares us the time of day outside his work hours, and you’re our only hope...” or, “He wouldn’t turn you away or avoid you since he likes you so much.”

Maybe it’s because of the massive ego boost you’d gotten from their comments, but you now find yourself lugging a stack of papers that need to be looked over and signed, along with the freshly boxed up meal you bought earlier dangling from your other hand.

The journey back to his new office isn’t all that bad, just... a little awkward. You’re pretty sure the librarian hasn’t seen someone come and go from the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office-slash-elevator as frequently as you do, but hey! That just means you’re pretty special!

(For what it’s worth, you do kinda wish they had elevator music. Talking and humming to yourself can only do so much.)

Upon reaching the top floor and stepping off the platform, you’re greeted with the sight of Alhaitham leaning back and reading another one of his books. Ah, I feel my heart getting lighter at the sight.

“I’ve returned with food, Grand Sage!” you call out with a grin, waving your hand which carries the bag.

“Acting Grand Sage.”

“I’ve returned with food, Acting Grand Sage!”

A deadpan stare is all you receive at your quip, a sigh soon escaping him. “Why are you even addressing me with that title? Surely just saying my name is more efficient.”

“Because it’s fun, of course!” you merely laugh out in response.

A frown tugs his lips at that, eyes narrowing slightly before relaxing. He beckons you over with swift eye contact, and the chair opposite to where he’s sat is pushed back with his foot.

Wow. What a gentleman.

Plopping yourself down on the chair with an audible “Oof!”, you place the newly bought meal onto his desk. A mouth-watering scent wafts in the space between you, and you find yourself holding back a gulp at the delectable aroma. You quickly divvy up the food between you before glancing around the room.

As if reading your thoughts, Alhaitham nonchalantly says, “If you’re looking for my assistant, he’s not here.”

“Oh?” you ask between delightful mouthfuls. Swallowing down your food, you continue. “Where is he now? There should be plenty for his share too since I bought a lot this time around — or, well, I guess Lambad insisted I took more...”

There’s a small beat of silence after your words, though you barely register that fact when he speaks up again.

“No need. I’m feeling hungrier than usual, so I doubt there will be any leftovers to share.”

“Huh?” It takes you a couple seconds and a raised brow from Alhaitham for his words to register. When it does, however, you find yourself beyond ecstatic. “Oh! Of course, eat as much as you want! You need the energy for your Grand Sage duties, after all.”

“Acting Grand Sage duties.”

“Yeah, yeah, same thing.”

The rest of your lunch is spent in idle chatter and shared food. When you put more food on his side, he pushed his drink towards you or gave you more of your favourite bits.

(For someone who claimed to be really hungry, he sure was giving you a lot of food...)

Leaning back with a hefty sigh, you pat your stomach in content. Ah, Lambad never fails me, you think to yourself. Now that you’re done with your mini lunch date, it’s probably about time you head back and get your work for the day done. Your once content sigh now turns dreary, the energy you had barely seconds ago already dissipating.

Unbeknown to you, the corners of Alhaitham’s lips quirked up at your obvious dejection. Fist on cheek, he stares fondly at your ever-changing expressions; the familiarity of such a sight bringing him more comfort than he would ever let on. Eyes sweeping across the desk, his mood sours when spotting a stack of papers that wasn’t there before your arrival.

“Did those scholars bother you to run errands for them again?”

“Ah, this?” you drawl, head tilting slightly to view the contents. A low giggle escapes you when remembering the reason you originally brought it. “It’s because they can never find you.”

A huff escapes him at that comment. “Then they should have come during my work hours.”

“Apparently you’re never here when they come looking for you.”

“And? It’s not my problem they simply have bad timing.”

You all but shake your head at his antics, an amused smile blooming on your lips. Taking a quick glance at the time, you startle. Oh boy, where did the time go? Time really does fly when you’re having fun. Panic settles in you when the stack of papers needing to be sorted and signed appears in your mind. Scrambling up from your seat you spew out hasty apologies, too absorbed in your panic to notice the startled man you previously ate with.

“Aaaahh! I’m so sorry Haitham, but I really have to go! I have a million papers that need to be sorted and— gosh. How did the time fly by so quickly?! I could’ve sworn it was twelve just a minute ago—!”

“Wait!”

His voice is rushed — panicked, almost — and you find yourself unable to move. The ironclad grip on your wrist is tingling, even more so as it moves to envelop your hand completely.

His cool facade wavers slightly when you regard him with astonishment, but he gulps down his frayed nerves and steels his resolve. “Call me that again.”

“Huh? Like what?”

His hold on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Haitham.”

Mission Status: Success?

Step 5: Make him... jealous?

Apparently, your sad attempts have garnered Kaveh’s attention (and pity). Why else would he be at your door at 4 a.m. and suggesting you use him to make Alhaitham jealous, all the while grumbling how “It’s so painful to watch you do so much, only for that guy to do nothing.”, as well as the addition of “Maybe this time I can finally get the upper hand over him and that infuriating arrogance of his!”

“Is someone like him really going to get jealous over something so...” you trail off in thought after he explains the plan he had in mind, eyes screwing shut as you try to think of the word to describe, well, whatever it is Kaveh proposed, “so trivial? It just seems like something so beyond him to get jealous.”

“Hah!” he barks out, settling back into your sofa and patting down the blanket on his lap. “You’re kidding, right?” When you don’t respond, he levels his sight with yours, perplexed. “Wait, you really don’t know?”

“Would I be asking if I knew?” At your retort, his face freezes. He seems to have come to a realisation, if the way he instantly sits upright has anything to say about it.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Kaveh intervenes, hands resting on his temples. “Let me get this right. You’ve been pursuing him for how many years now—”

“Five years,” comes your instant reply.

“—I wasn’t expecting you to answer, but exactly. Five years. And you think something like this would be ‘trivial’ to him? That guy??” You nod; he groans. “Ugh. You’re hopeless. The both of you.”

An offended gasp escapes you. “Well, excuuuse you! I’ll have you know I’m trying my best over here.”

“Unfortunately, I’m aware of that.”

He deflates against the cushions with a sigh, lifting the fallen blanket up his torso. A slew of unintelligible grumbles leaves his lips, and you just barely make out “I still don’t understand what you see in someone so unromantic...” before shaking your head at his antics.

When you take a glimpse at the time, however, a thought sticks out in your head.

“Also, why are you here at 4 a.m.?”

“Am I not allowed to visit you at 4 a.m.?”

You blink. He blinks back.

“...Did Alhaitham take your keys again?”

Silence.

“No...” he trails off, like a liar.

That night — or morning, rather — you let the temporarily homeless Kaveh crash at your house, discussing your plans on making Alhaitham jealous.

As a result of your late-night plotting, you’d somehow ended up spending around a week solely in Kaveh’s presence; as per the plan, that is. According to him, if you took some time away from Alhaitham, then it would “make him question that annoying mindset of his and force him to realise what a bumbling fool he’s being!”.

(Kaveh’s words. Not yours.)

Well, you suppose taking a break from his presence wouldn’t do that much harm. The blond makes for fun company, and you would never turn down an invitation from him! In short, this plan of his just gave you an excuse to hang with him even more than you already do!

You strayed from the Akademiya as much as you both could without neglecting your work, but the majority of your time was spent with Kaveh in the House of Daena, your house, or Puspa Café. And when Alhaitham was in the nearby area, or directly approaching you both, Kaveh would be quick to pull you away to a different spot. And when he managed to catch you when you were alone outside your working duties, you would conjure an excuse before hurriedly taking your leave. (You mentally apolgised to him each time as you scurried away, not daring to look back in case your resolve crumbled.)

Luckily, today, you haven’t encountered him.

With a much needed stretch after working through the morning, you turn to Kaveh and see him doing the same as a yawn slips past his lips. You’re feeling a bit peckish now, and you’re sure he is too. Plus, the weather was pretty good so going outside wouldn’t be too bad!

“Hey, where do you wanna go for lunch today? Lambad’s—”

Though, you barely get to utter the restaurant’s name when he pulls you into an embrace, arms wrapped around you as you both sway slightly in tandem. Instantly, you realise what’s happening.

Wait, we’re starting that part of the plan now?!

Sure enough, footsteps resound from behind you, a deep and familiar voice following soon after. “So this is where you’ve been. Strangely enough, you seem busier and harder to find these days.”

Kaveh parts from you a second later, but takes your hand in his. Instantly, you see Alhaitham’s eyes dart to your interlocked fingers before returning back to you. Kaveh seems to take note as well, and deftly swings your hands in front.

“Yeah, and what of it?“ You gulp at his smug tone, mentally preparing yourself for the incoming argument they usually fall into. “But you seem to have caught us at a bad time again, because we were just on our way to a date!”

...That wasn’t part of the script?!

His hand gently squeezes around yours, and you will yourself out of your surprise. Right. This is part of the act. Even if it doesn’t sit well with you, it’s not like you have many options left!

And so with that being said, you steel your nerves and turn to face Alhaitham. Not even a second later do you find yourself faltering when you take note of his expression — blank and slightly shadowed by his hair.

“...Is that so?”

“Of course. We were just on our way to Lambad’s Tavern,” Kaveh responds before turning to you with a smile. “Weren’t we, [Name]?”

And you smile back (albeit through gritted teeth). “Haha, yes, that’s right! We were just about to have lunch.”

A pregnant pause lingers in the air after your agreement.

(Is it just you, or did the temperature suddenly drop?)

“I see,” Alhaitham finally breathes out. He spares another glance at your hands before meeting Kaveh’s eyes. “Well, I hate to be the one to ruin your plans, but I need [Name]’s help for some urgent matters.”

A scoff. “What could be so urgent for someone who makes it a point to get all his work done in advance?”

“I can assure you it’s far more urgent than your... date.”

There’s a distant sheen in his eyes as he forces out the last word. The air around you turns frigid as the two men stare each other down and, if this were depicted in a show of some sort, you’re sure lightning would crackle in the space between the two.

An agitated sigh breaks the silence. The grip on your hand loosens.

“Alright, fine. You can have [Name] for your ‘urgent matter’.” Kaveh gently nudges you forward until you find yourself standing before Alhaitham. “If you do anything strange to [Name], I’ll come and personally sort you out myself!”

Besides the brief scoff and mutter of “I’d like to see you try”, Alhaitham spares you a prolonged glance before wrapping his hand around your wrist and turning away, forcing you to follow hot on his heels. When you look back at Kaveh, all you see is a double thumbs up with an agitated expression (no doubt he heard Alhaitham’s snide remark) that screams “I told you so”.

Well, that’s no help at all.

The walk to the elevator is silent. The ride up to his office even more so. And awkward. Very awkward. You’re probably the only one feeling this awkwardness though. After all, you were the one ignoring him this past week, not the other way around, so he has no reason to feel awkward around you. In fact, Alhaitham should be more annoyed than awkward...

Ah. I’m screwed.

The lift comes to a halt when the realisation sets in, the presence of his hand on your skin even more prominent than before. He still hasn’t said a word to you. And, if you’re being completely honest here, you’re not sure whether to be grateful for that or not.

There’s an unnerving silence in the (Acting) Grand Sage’s office. Upon closer inspection, it seems his assistant isn’t here today either; only you and Alhaitham stand in the centre (of his office, and the world). As your gaze flits across the expanse of the room, you note how messy the interior appears — well, messier than usual, that is.

“I didn’t like you when we first met,” he begins; unprovoked. He doesn’t turn around, and so you’re left to gape at his back. “You were annoying and kept hovering around me, even when I made it abundantly clear I didn’t want to be bothered. You were a nuisance; a thorn in my side and I would always get irritated at the mere mention of your name.

I never understood your naivety. Were you pretending, or were you really that unaware? Why would you go out of your way to make a good impression on others? Did you have to be liked by everyone so desperately?” A harsh scoff leaves his lips, but you couldn’t tell whether that was directed to you or to himself. “I couldn’t understand you and thought of you as a fool.”

Wait… isn’t he just straight-up insulting you now?

“I couldn’t understand you back then but now, I know you like the back of my hand.” His voice remains unchanged. Perhaps if it weren’t only you two in the room, the slight waver of his voice would have gone unheard. Then he breathes out a sigh and tilts his head back, still with no intention of facing you. “Do you remember? That winter back in our first year. The one where we were partnered for a presentation.”

(Oh. He’s actually talking to you now.)

“Uh, yeah,” you stammer, “that’s the one we were given two months to prepare for, right?”

He hums in confirmation, “Do you also know, [Name]? At the time, I considered those two months we spent together to be the worst of my life.”

...What.

Too stunned to even think up a retort, he seems to take your silence as his cue to continue.

“Your views on the world; your naivety; your foolishness... I soon realised they were all qualities I had merely made up, simply because I couldn’t grasp your intentions until I actually talked to you. Hah,” he laughs, bitter and remorseful, “it turned out I was the naive one, and that made me question my values.

At the end of our project, I came to realise it wasn’t anything to do with your disposition, but more so my feelings for you. I knew what it was but, at the same time, I denied them. I avoided you more than anything in hopes of them dying out. But... they didn’t. They only grew stronger, as if to mock me for my vain efforts.”

And then he turns — slowly, hesitantly — knitted brows and lower lip caught between his teeth. It’s bashful and shy and tentative; and yet you’re sure his eyes have never held such a confident and resolute glint before now. And now, with both of your hands engulfed in his, he continues on.

“Ever since accepting my feelings, I grew more aware of your presence. No matter where I looked, no matter where my thoughts were, you were always there. I soon came to value your opinion and thoughts of me when I hadn’t cared about such things before. With time, they grew stronger. More desperate. And when realising that just being by you was no longer enough, I... became greedy.”

(Alhaitham has a vague sense to stop here, but he can’t. He won’t let this chance to reveal the true nature of his feelings slip by.)

There’s a small beat of silence as he lowers his head — foreheads touching and noses brushing.

"I want to kiss you, hold you, experience all the mundane and extraordinary things life has to offer with you. I want to be there for you and grow old with you, and...” His hold on you tightens, angling his head to get a better view of you, and for you to see his glossy eyes and near-trembling smile. “And I want to keep your smile in my eyes for the rest of my life. If this isn't love, then I'll probably never know love for the rest of my life."

Your mind’s a mess; jumbled and incoherent. Unfocused, your eyes dart from every dip of his face to the furniture in the background, unable to keep your mind and concentration at bay from his sudden confession. His eyes bore into you, seemingly inching closer and closer; so close they’re all you can see, speckles of umber and teal that would usually go unnoticed becoming very prominent.

Somehow, he leans in even closer. Your mind blanks, throat parched and senses going into overdrive.

“Wait, Alhaitham—”

“No,” he interrupts, his unwavering gaze never once straying from you. “I refuse to wait any longer than I already have. I should have said this long ago when I realised our feelings were mutual, as opposed to waiting it out for so long.”

And then you hear it.

“I love you.”

“What...”

“If you need me to say it a thousand times over just so you understand, then so be it.” His eyes soften considerably, a smoldering passion now unconcealed and consuming you whole. “I love you, [Name]. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I’ll continue loving you for even longer.”

You want to respond. No, you have to respond. After years of showing your affections you finally received a clear response. You should be jumping in his arms and professing your love again! So why...

Why can’t you say anything...?

The pad of his thumbs gently swipe under your eyes, catching beads of tears you hadn’t realised were accumulating. The residue follows the path of his thumb, dampening your cheekbones as his hands slide to cup your cheeks.

“Are you backing out now?” he breathes out, a silent laugh puffing from his lips. “After all this time you’ve spent pursuing me, and you go silent when I confess my undying love for you?”

“Ah, no, I just... can’t believe it, I guess,” you respond sheepishly after regaining yourself. In a haze of excitement, you turn slightly to fist-bump yourself, his cupped hands following your slight movement. “Your efforts have finally paid off, [Name]!”

Just then, a small “Bfft” rings out. You blink and cautiously turn your focus to the man wearing a stoic expression in front of you.

“Did you… just laugh?”

“I didn’t,” comes his instantaneous response.

(A bright grin alights your face at that, and Alhaitham finds it hard to not kiss you right then and there.)

“You liar. You so did!”

“You’re just hearing things.”

“Yeah, because I just totally heard you turn your head in a failed attempt to hide that laugh—!”

Your words are muffled, swallowed and silenced by his lips on yours. An overflowing warmth seeps through the point of contact. It traverses through your body, now hyper-aware of every strand of his hair tickling your cheeks, to the pads of his fingers searing your skin, to even the faintest brush of his clothes against you.

His touch is warm and all-consuming — and you find yourself leaning in for more.

(Strange. You thought his lips would be a little rough, but they were actually quite soft.)

Slowly, your lips detach. He lingers and hovers over you, everything from half-lidded eyes to his lips brushing against yours consuming you whole. When you try to move back to cool down, he follows; an aimless pursuit for your touch.

“I think you talk too much,” he finds himself murmuring, mind still reeling from what just transpired. Your dazed blinks-turned-smile sets his heart alight at such an adorable sight only he is privy to, as he relishes in the warmth diffused from your cheeks to his palms.

“Hehe, but you like it though— let gwo obf my cheeks.”

In the midst of your complaints, Alhaitham grins, eyes crinkling at the corners as he stares at your puckered lips from his hands smushing your cheeks. How cute... he muses to himself, before planting a chaste, lingering kiss on your forehead.

“By the way,” he whispers against your skin, “your little act with Kaveh hasn’t been forgotten.”

“Uggh. You’re sho stingyy...”

“Hm, perhaps. But you like it.”

Alhaitham had never seen you with such a dumbfounded expression until now.

Mission Status: Who cares? You just won in life! (But also: success!)

“Ugh. They’re at it again.”

Aether and Paimon share a glance upon hearing Kaveh’s grumbles. They follow his line of sight to see what put the architect in such a state, only...

“Is that... Alhaitham?!”

Paimon’s cry earns her more than a few glares from researchers, scholars, and students alike, but that’s not the main issue. The main issue here is in a far corner tucked away in the House of Daena sits you and Alhaitham, the man in question pinching and tugging your cheeks as you try (and ultimately fail) to swat his hands away.

The travel duo had met you a handful of times. Within those few meetings, Aether had thought of you as someone sincere and resolute, whereas Paimon had deemed you as the “nice researcher with the tastiest food recommendations!”. And within those few meetings, never would they have guessed your relationship with Alhaitham.

“Oh?” Kaveh cocks a brow at their apparent surprise. “You didn’t know they’re dating? That guy is so obvious about it with how clingy he is.”

Aether hurriedly covers Paimon’s mouth before she could spew another set of cries that would surely put them in the bad books of the nearby occupants.

A beat of silence passes. A distinct murmur from your direction can be heard amidst the faint scribbling of pen on paper and the rustling of pages being turned. And then comes a sigh from beside them.

“Y’know, that guy’s been in love with [Name] for as long as I can remember, and probably even before then,” Kaveh starts, arms crossed over his chest as he stares at you quietly giggling away at something Alhaitham whispered. “He was so obvious about it too with his blatant favouritism. And even then he never outright acted on his feelings — that were very much reciprocated, mind you — until a few months ago! If it weren’t for me, this whole thing could’ve taken another few years!”

Aether and Paimon share another glance before focusing back on Kaveh and his seemingly never-ending rant.

“Honestly,” he huffs, head shaking in line with his exasperation and still in his own world, “I still have no clue what he’s thinking. For all I know, he probably just wanted to see how far [Name] would go; that smug bastard. Wouldn’t surprise me.”

While Aether awkwardly chuckles at the tagged insult, Paimon continues to watch your shared interaction in wonder — namely the smile which adorns Alhaitham’s lips.

“Wow. Paimon can’t imagine a guy like him being in love...”

Kaveh scoffs. “There’s no need to imagine it when he’s so blatantly love-struck right in front of us. However...” he trails off when you nudge Alhaitham, the new angle allowing the trio to witness him chuckling fondly at your action before placing a kiss on your cheek. A light sigh slips past Kaveh’s lips, “I’m glad they’re finally together.”

“Why so?” Aether asks, head tilting at the man’s change in tone.

“It was painful to watch.”

“Ah...”

if you enjoyed this, then reblogs with/or comments are greatly appreciated !! <33

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#yaepublishinghouse #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact

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koenigami · 2 months

Text

➵ WRIOTHESLEY

synopsis : sometimes all it takes is a little push from a little melusine wc : 1,3k tags : fem!reader, fluff, comfort, reader and wrio had an argument

“He’s in a bad mood.” “Did something happen?” “Was it an inmate?” “She left the fortress in a haste.” “Someone heard them arguing. She looked hysterical.” “Oh-oh. A fight?” “Shit, not again.”

The respect that Wriothesley earns himself stems from different kinds of people and different kinds of emotions. Some of them look up to him and his generosity while others are easily intimidated solely by his presence. Usually, the latter ones simply have not had the chance yet to get to know the Duke better. Otherwise they would realise that behind that cool and brutish exterior lies just a guy who likes order and tea.

However, there is one specific circumstance that will have even Sigewinne lower her head when passing by his Grace’s office.

“Do you know what they were arguing about?” The little Melusine has been asking around for a while now, looking for eyewitnesses, and writing down every piece of information as if she was solving a scandalous case. She knows very well that as rough as he may seem, Wriothesley is only human. A human madly, truly in love with none other than Fontaine’s top attorney with whom the Fortress of Meropide is in constant correspondence due to work related matters.

Sigewinne nervously bites the top of her pen as she returns to her infirmary. The taste of plastic makes her grimace in disgust and look at the writing utensil with annoyance as if it had insulted her. She sighs.

It’s been a week since you hurried out of Wriothesley’s office, furiously stomping towards the elevator and staring down everyone and anyone who dared to cross your path. One week worth of missing documents that have not been sent in by you. One week worth of paperwork that has yet to be completed by Wriothesley. (Which is oddly ironic since that man has not left his office ever since your argument.)

Love will make the sanest person go mad, whether it’s in a good or a bad way. And so all Sigewinne can do right now is think about a way to make the both of you come back to your senses. But how? It’s not like either you or Wriothesley are at her beck and call, and will simply meet up just because she asked you so. Despite the emotional agony that you’re going through right now, you’re both way too stubborn for that.

Agony.

Unless…

“Where is he?!” Your voice echoes through the hall as you rush into Sigewinne’s infirmary. That was fast, she thinks.

She almost feels a little bad when she notices the glimmer in your eyes and your laboured breathing. It’s for everyone’s sake, she reminds herself.

“He should get here soon.”

“B-But Neuvilette told me-” A poisoned tea. Those were the news that the Iudex had apparently received from one of the Melusines, and forwarded them to you. You don’t know all the details. You left your office as soon as you got to know that Wriothesley was currently unconscious due to a prisoner who had spiked his afternoon tea.

Now you’re here, but he’s not and it’s making you even more agitated. “Sigewinne, where is he? Is he alright? Are you hiding something from me?”

“Y/n?” At first you feel his hands all over you before you even get to see him. Wriothesley delicately holds your head, turning it left and right before his hands move to your arms and then lower to your own hands. They’re shaking the slightest bit as he holds them up to his lips, pressing sweet kisses along your fingertips. His blood boils and he clenches his jaw at the simple thought of some low lives being the cause of your current state.

It’s your turn to inspect him from head to toe now. His hair is a mess, all dishevelled while his pale skin makes you fear that he might just topple over any second. Your body moves before you know it, as you push him towards one of the few beds in the infirmary. “Wriothesley, shouldn’t you be in bed? When did you even wake up?”

Wake… up?

“Do you know if the potion will have any long term effects on you?” Despite having him right in front of you, obviously well and not on his deathbed, your heart still feels like it is about to burst from your ribcage. As soon as the news had reached you, you dropped everything. Any documents that you had to write and read through, any meetings with clients and other employees of the Palais Mermonia-

None of them mattered anymore. All of a sudden, everything seemed so insignificant when there was the uncertainty if you’d ever be able to hear Wriothesley’s voice. Hear him sigh in tiredness before humming with the delight at the taste of his freshly brewed tea.

The simple thought of the possibility of him never waking up again, depriving you from the chance to get another glimpse of his breathtaking eyes. It was enough to get your tear ducts working and your eyes pricking as you hurried to see him as soon as possible.

“Archons, you should really lie down. You don’t look-”

Your mouth falls silent, because you can almost hear the screeching sound of the turning clockworks inside Wriothesley’s brain. It ends up worrying you even more.

He scrutinises you, lets his gaze travel around the room only to notice that you’re alone now. Only you two. No Sigewinne.

Sigewinne…

“You have not been attacked today, have you?” Deep blue eyes inspect your body again. Just to make sure, even though he more or less knows that all of this has to be a scheme.

“No one robbed you? No treasure hoarders, right?”

He watches your eyes widen, brows furrow before you shake your head. Of course.

Why else would you believe that he’s comatose? Why else would he believe that you’ve been beaten to a pulp, and robbed off your most precious belongings? Why if not because of Sigewinne?

“What’s wrong?” You ask cautiously, and you notice now too that one person is missing.

And it’s only when Wriothesley explains to you that, in fact, there has never been tea nor poison, or at least not any kind of combination of those two. He has never been unconscious, and neither have you been hurt. But what did happen was that the both of you have been led on. Deceived.

And that by none other than the head nurse herself.

“I can’t believe she pulled off something like that. You looked so awful, I actually thought you were sick.”

“Love, that’s because I was worried sick!” Wriothesley exclaims and exhales a huge breath when you bury your face in the crook of his neck. His arms open and instinctively wrap around you, fingers digging into your hips. And it feels good. So, so good because it’s been way too many days since you’ve held each other like this.

And, god damn, did he miss it.

A thought crosses his mind. How your last interaction had been a silly argument. Petty remarks and poisonous words spewed at each other, induced by nothing else but your egos.

All of it is so insignificant now that you both are in each other’s embrace, and that you’re both fine and unharmed.

So Wriothesley promises himself to apologise to you later, inhale your scent, brush his fingers through your hair all while showing you how much the few days that you have been apart affected him. Because none of those things should be taken for granted. Because another day with you is not promised but his love for you is.

But first. You both have a bone to pick with a certain Melusine.

#wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley fluff #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley genshin impact #genshin x reader #wriothesley comfort

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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Text

silly low effort dating Lucifer headcanons —

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE’S THE SILLIEST EVER. Anyways, now that we have that out of the way. He is very touchy with you, especially after you guys start dating. He constantly has his hand on your shoulder, arm, in your hair, or on your leg. He’s been so touch starved ever since Lilith left him. So he’s always chasing that kinda of comforting physical touch. Also, probably just always clinging to your arm, no matter what you’re doing too. He’s just there, hanging around. I said in another post he likes to play with your fingers, rings, hands, bracelets, etc when he rambles on about whatever is interesting him. ”I had another Idea for a rubber duck that blows bubbles but I never really got around to it, plus there’s always—“ and he’d be fiddling with your hands the entire time. He also has a thing for being called really lovey-dovey pet names. Princess, sweetheart, babycakes, pretty boy, things like that. I swear they have him on the floor blushing every time, especially if you play it up well enough. ”You look so good today,” and then you strut over to him and tilt his head up to look at you, “my pretty boy.” Hes in shambles oh my god. Probably giggling and putting his hand over his mouth to conceal his dorky grin. Up the stakes by taking his hand and kissing it gently, never breaking eye contact. “Oh— oh my—“ he would stutter out. “Darling how… charming.” But he’d be tomato red and giggling the whole time. Not a lot of people acknowledge this, but he can be very snobby too. Of course, he’s the king of hell. Why shouldn’t he be? He also hold himself to a standard above sinners because, in his words, ‘they’re just the worst.’ So he’d be lowkey snooty and proud in public sometimes. And he’s a little rich boy too so don’t be surprised if he complains about how: “This restaurant serves their lamb too cold. You know, we don’t have to eat here. I have pancake batter at home sooo…” If you end up calling him out on it he’d feel bad about being so bratty and tip the waitress an outrageous amount. Also, i’m sorry this man is a little spoon through and through. Let’s be real right now. He’s so tiny he absolutely dissolved in your arms. Which is very comforting for him on bad days when he just wants to be held by you. He also, even though he acts all high and mighty when it happens, loves being manhandled by you. Maybe he’s overworking himself and so you just sneak up behind him and throw him over your shoulder. He'd bang his fists on your back and demand to be treated with dignity, as if he couldn’t overpower you in seconds. Also, you catch him talking to his rubber ducks A LOT. For a while they were probably all that he talked to it’s kind of sad to watch. But in a cute way? He has names for them all and specific personalities. He’ll be showing you his collection and be like “Oh, george likes you!” after forcing you to hold a rubber duck for him. Also a good cook, I don’t know why I just feel like he is. But like very oddly specific dishes too. He makes a mean gourmet mac and cheese with parmesan on the top. He likes to dance with you too, whether it’s slow dancing or you two are just being silly, he likes to feel your body warmth on him while you two move together. Also, i’m pretty sure we all ready know… autism. I’m not even projecting this time either, it just might as well be canon. So he comes you to about any new hyperfixations he has at the time because he trusts that you, above all people, will listen to him. Once again he’ll play with your bracelets, or fiddle with his hands while he talks to you. And of course, you listen, and even do your research later to make him feel like you really care. He also loves making arts and crafts with you. Sometimes even with some friendly competition (incredibly competitive high-energy contests on who’s contraption works better.) I also imagine you have to say things to him multiple times for him to hear you. It’s not that he can’t hear you, he’s just in his own little world, not paying attention at all to his surroundings.

”What, honey? Sorry, didn’t catch that last part—“

Then he’ll focus so hard on paying attention, that he’ll forget to actually pay attention and make you explain it another time.

I imagine he likes doing little tasks for you, so he can feel useful. Like running your laundry for you, doing the dishes, anything to keep him busy.

Also, it’d it earns words of affirmations from you, then it’s worth it.

Say you catch him scrubbing pots and pans to save you the effort. Come up behind him, put your hands on his hips and kiss his head before telling him how amazing he is. And how great full you are for him.

He’s beaming and smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

I also think he’s a morning person, so more often than not, he wakes you up with breakfast in bed.

He falls asleep so early at night it’s literally crazy.

Like you could be hugging him, even standing up, at nighttime and he would immediately get so drowsy.

You’d have to pick him up bridal style and carry him to bed, all the while he’s whining about how he’s “Not tired, yet! I still have so much to do.” I think he also is a huge giggler like he just gets a kick out of everything you say and thinks you’re the funniest person alive. Also, he’s a terrible ugly crier. Like his face scrunches all the way up, snot comes out of his noise, he makes god awful chocking noises. It be kinda funny if it wasn’t so sad to watch to be honest. Cries at super stupid things too, those dog commercials for example. But it’s so bad he could be being his goofy self and like making the milk and the carton of eggs talk to each other. And he would get so invested in their ‘lives’ that he would start crying. ”No, Mr. Milk i’m sorry we can’t—“ sniff sniff “—be together. I DON’T LOVE YOU!” and now he’s crying. He buries his face in your shirt when he cries and just, I have a specific noise in mind, violently squeaks and sniffs.

a/n — My tumblr was tweaking out when I wrote this. I don’t know what happened but if you saw this posted last night, no you didn’t.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #silly low effort headcanons

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Note

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

Poly!EMT!Marauders x reader where they are in an established relationship and she gets really hurt… I’m a slut for hurt/comfort and protective bfs

Thanks for requesting!

cw: bike accident, injuries, concussion

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

You don’t remember getting out your phone, but Remus answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“I…um…”

The woman who’d stopped to help eases the phone out of your grasp, putting it to her ear. “Hello?”

She starts to fill Remus in on what’s happened. A car moved into the bike lane, probably by mistake. They didn’t see you. You’d panicked, throwing yourself away from it and out of the road. You’d hit the ground hard. The car had kept going. You’re not sure you can move.

Your body, the entire left side, is in agony, stinging and burning and throbbing all at once. The ground is cold, seeping through your clothes. Your head is warm, though. Fuzzy.

“Dove?” There’s an insistent tapping at your cheek. “Dove, come on, lovely.”

Your eyelids are impossibly heavy. Something pushes against a sore spot on your head, and a whine escapes you.

“There you go, just open your eyes.” Remus’ face is in front of yours, his eyes flitting between your eyes and something else. “Good job. I need you to stay awake for me, okay?”

You make a sound somewhere between a hum and a moan.

“Do you know where you are?”

You squint up at him. The sun filters through your boyfriend’s hair like a halo. “A car almost hit me.”

Remus’ eyebrows draw further together. “I heard, honey. Can you tell me what day it is?”

“Mhm.”

He waits a second. “What day?”

“What?”

“It’s Tuesday,” the woman says helpfully.

Her voice comes from over by the road. You try to turn your head to find her, to say thank you, but Remus stops you with a hand on your jaw.

“Thank you,” he calls to her. “I’m just testing her for a concussion, though.”

You think you see him roll his eyes when he turns back towards you.

“Okay.” He sets a hand on top of your head, warm and weighty and reassuring. You close your eyes, savoring the touch. “Hey, eyes open.” There’s a gentle stroke at your cheek, then a hard tap. You look at him. “Sorry, love, you’ve gotta stay awake. James and Sirius are on their way, okay?”

“They…” You feel your eyebrows pinch. “They’re at work.”

“I know. They’re coming in the ambulance, to help.”

You feel the beginnings of a groggy sort of terror. It chills your blood and clogs your airways. You don’t want to go to the hospital. You want Sirius and James, but you want them to take you home. You want the soft warmth of your bed, not needles and prodding and the harshness of all those sounds and lights.

“Hey,” Remus says. His thumb strokes at your temple. You hear a shrill wailing in the distance, coming towards you. “Hey, look at me—you’re safe, honey.” His eyebrows press close together as he looks into your eyes, imploring. “It’s going to be okay.”

The ambulance gets there quicker than you can respond, or maybe you just sit in silence until it arrives. Time is moving oddly. Your breath seems to take ages to pass through your lungs, but in a blink Sirius is hopping out of the van, jogging to your side.

“She’s got a concussion, definitely dislocated shoulder and likely broken wrist,” Remus calls as he approaches.

“Got it.” Sirius crouches in front of you. “Hello, gorgeous. Rough morning?”

“A little.”

He grins, lopsided and a bit strained. “Looks like it. Well don’t worry, our first order of business is getting you on some pain meds.”

“I don’t want a needle.”

Sirius’ smile slips a bit. “Sure you do, dollface. Trust me, it’ll help.”

“You’re going to be in so much less pain with an IV,” Remus reasons, still stroking your hairline. “You won’t even know it’s there.”

“I don’t…”

James comes over with a gurney. “How’s our girl doing?”

“Great.” Sirius takes the hand on your uninjured side, giving it a little squeeze. “We’re gonna need a splint and a sling, but she should be okay to move.”

The boys don’t need much talking to coordinate, and a second later you’re being transferred onto the gurney. Remus and James hold your injured arm tight to your side, and still a muffled groan tears from between your teeth.

“I know, sweetheart.” James kisses your forehead as they stand the gurney up. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He’s holding something to your head. You try to look up at it, but you can’t. “What is that?”

“This? It looks like, uh…a dish towel? Rem?”

Remus shrugs, crawling up into the ambulance. “I knew she was bleeding, and I took what was on hand.”

Bleeding. You had been bleeding, you remember. You wonder how much you’d lost. You feel a bit less foggy now, though still a bit dazed.

“How bad is it?” you ask James quietly.

“Not bad,” he tells you, looking at you as he says it so you’ll know he’s being honest. He helps Sirius lift you into the ambulance. “You’ll need a couple of stitches, but it won’t be horrid.”

You must pale at the mention of stitches, because Remus gives you a sympathetic look, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. “Don’t worry about it right now, dove. I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m not on shift, so I can stay after the boys drop us off.”

“Fuck that,” Sirius says, lifting the dish towel from your head to get a look at the cut. “I’m staying too.”

“It’s been a slow day,” James agrees. “If they need us for anything, we’ll go back out.”

Sirius huffs. “We’ll see.” He presses some gauze over your cut, taping it down.

James goes to the window at the front, telling the paramedic driving that you’re good to go. You feel something cold on your arm, and look over to see Remus cleaning the crook of your elbow with a wipe just before Sirius blocks your view with his hand. He tilts your head back towards him.

“Look at me,” he instructs. “You’re okay, baby.”

You try to look back towards Remus, but Sirius’ hand is firm, keeping you still.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen,” he offers. “We’re going to give the pain meds a few minutes to kick in, then put your wrist in a brace. Our best bet for your shoulder is just to keep it still until” —You hiss as you feel the small needle pierce your skin, and Sirius’ brows twitch together commiseratingly— “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’ll keep your shoulder still until we get to the hospital, and there, they’ll set that, stitch your head up, and give you a cast for your wrist. Sound okay, doll?”

“Yeah,” you manage.

He presses his lips to your forehead, letting them sit there for a second before pulling away. When he moves his hand, Remus has just finished taping down the IV.

He runs his thumb over the delicate skin of your forearm fondly. “You’re doing so well, dove.”

“Thanks,” you squeak, and your vision blurs frustratingly. You press your lips together.

“Hey, what’s up?” James’ tone is light, but you can hear the worry behind it. “Is it the pain?”

You shake your head, closing your eyes as tears slip down your face. You’ve got no good hands to wipe them with, an IV in one arm and the other limp and useless.

“You’re alright.” Remus rubs your good shoulder. His voice is low and tranquilizing. “Take a breath.”

“I—I can’t stop.” Your breath comes in embarrassing, ragged gasps. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry for anything, angel,” James says. “Just breathe.”

You try, filling your lungs as best you can with your eyes still squeezed shut. The hot tears remind you of the feeling of warm blood on your face, and that only makes you cry harder. Remus rubs your shoulder, murmuring quiet assurances.

After a while, Sirius speaks tentatively. “The meds should be working by now,” he says. “Do you feel any better?”

You sniff. You hadn’t even noticed the pain fading. “Yeah, I—I think so.”

“Okay.” He thumbs at your tears almost apologetically. “We’re gonna use this blow-up thingy to stabilize your wrist.”

“It shouldn’t hurt too badly,” James says, taking your hand in his, “but if it does, just give me a squeeze, okay?” He smiles. “You can break my hand a little if you need to. Then we’ll really be in this together.”

You do your best to smile back at him. He looks like he appreciates it.

“Deep breaths,” Remus reminds you as they pump up the splint.

You tear up again and squeeze the ever-loving shit out of James’ hand, but it’s over quicker than you expected. Sirius kisses your hairline.

“Now we’re just waiting,” he reassures you. “We can’t do anything else until we get there.”

You’re relieved. “Hey, what happened to that lady?”

“Who?”

“The lady who was…she was there.”

“The woman who helped you call me?” Remus asks. “She left.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, honey. Just before James and Sirius got to us. You don’t remember?”

“Wait, was that the driver?” Sirius asks. “She didn’t stay?”

“No.” Remus’ tone turns sour. “The driver didn’t stop.”

You don’t have to look at Sirius to feel his ire. It comes off him like waves of heat. “Fucker,” he seethes.

“Sirius,” James says warningly.

“I think it was an accident,” you say, trying to calm him.

“Hitting a biker is an accident.” Sirius’ voice is low and dangerous. “A careless, idiotic accident, but leaving them, without even knowing what happened, is fucking—”

“Sirius,” Remus says sternly. “Not the time, love.”

Sirius looks at you, softening. “Sorry, doll, you know I’d never leave you. But after we’re done here, I’m quitting my job to hunt that prick down.”

“Full time?” James asks curiously. “Like what, Liam Neeson or something?”

“Exactly like that.”

“Doesn’t seem like a great way to make money.”

“You won’t cover my portion of the rent for a couple months while I avenge our cruelly maimed sweetheart?” Sirius is aghast. “Have you no sense of justice?”

“Am I maimed?” you ask, part joking but part genuinely alarmed.

“Of course not, love,” Remus assures you quickly. He shoots Sirius a vexed look. “Maiming implies a permanency that doesn’t apply here. You’ll be fine.”

“I was really just talking about the injustice part of it,” Sirius admits.

“I’d rather not be avenged,” you tell him. “I think I’d prefer it if we got to keep you, and you didn’t hunt anyone down or get thrown in prison or anything.”

“Mmm, I’ll consider it.” He kisses just above your eyebrow. “Say I abandon my vigilante life, what could I do instead that would make you feel better?”

“A hug?”

“Let me see what I can do.”

1K notes · View notes

honeytae · 4 months

Text

the right choice - jk

pairing: college student! jk x college student! oc

genre: fluff, friends to lovers/mutual pining

summary: for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

warnings: loosely based off the song yes or no, mutual pining but they’re both so clueless, IT’S SO OBVIOUS, it’s finals season so OC is stressed tf out, this jk is such a boy but he’s so sweet, he calls her pookie, OC is affectionately fed up with him but oh well, there’s a santa hat appearance, the tats and lip piercings are here to stay, vulnerability grosses the OC out, hand holding is the norm, SUSPENSE, kissing, teeny tiny bit of making out at the end

word count: 4.6k

the air in your dorm room is uncharacteristically quiet. you can almost feel that the peace won’t last long in your bones, especially with your best friend jungkook sitting a mere foot from you.

jungkook was known as the most extroverted introvert on campus. quiet at first, but once you made it into his inner circle, you were in for endless spur-of-the-moment spontaneity and long nights full of utter chaos. for now, though, you enjoy the comfortable, delightful silence in the otherwise overstimulation of your brain.

unsurprisingly, the silent scrolling of your thumb along your phone screen is soon interrupted by an oversalted pretzel smacking you on the knuckle, sadly falling to your bedspread.

“ew, jungkook!” you whine, retrieving it from your duvet cover and swiping the salt grains off the previously clean fabric. you shoot a warning look at the man sitting opposite you on your bed when he dares to snicker while watching you clean his mess.

“are you twelve?” you ask while popping the pretzel into your mouth, jungkook smirking as he leans forward to rest on his elbows

“you love it,” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows to get you to crack a smile.

“yeah, whatever,” you relent, sliding your phone into your hoodie pocket.

it’s almost like any other tuesday you two spent in your dorm. the only difference is that you have nothing but time since classes are canceled with the impending blizzard outside. there is a uniquely calming air with no assignments forcing you to sit at your desk and keep you there the rest of the night.

you set your chin in your hand as you gaze out the window, the sound of jungkook’s foot repetitively tapping on your bed frame fading into the background as you watch the flurrying snow catapulting down to whichever surface it finds first. it’s funny, you think. you used to love the snow as a kid, count down the days until the next snowstorm struck. but then you got old, you suppose; it became a stressor for you, another thing you had to deal with rather than indulge in.

“hey, what’s up with you today?”

you blink a few times after registering jungkook’s voice closing in on you, finally breaking eye contact with the window and glancing over at your inquisitive friend.

you barely suppress a snort when you realize he has a Santa hat on his head, when the fuck did he acquire that?

but as usual, it’s a ploy to get you to break a smile, and it works.

“am i acting weird?” you wonder, shifting forward so you can smack the fur ball at the end of his hat, the impact making it lay over his other shoulder. you barely stifle a laugh at the abruptness of the action, jungkook overdramatically cocking an eyebrow at you as you pet it down the right way again.

“you’re just,” he waves his hands around, gesturing wildly in an attempt to convey what he can’t verbally, “distant, i guess,” he settles on.

you suppress a smile at his struggle to express himself, an oddly charming trait you’d gotten to appreciate over the time you’d known him.

“sorry koo. i’m just a little out of it, i guess. i haven’t had much of an attention span since finals started,” you sigh, jungkook humming to himself before curling his lips up to touch his nose. it was a quirk of his you’d noticed years ago, one that meant he was thinking. it had you equally excited and terrified at the same time, because jungkook’s ideas were never… simple.

you raise your eyebrows as you watch him stand up from his seat on the end of your bed, making his way across the room and collecting his coat and yours from the hooks on your door.

“what are you doing?”

jungkook doesn’t answer you with words, instead, he just drops your coat beside you and quickly starts digging in your closet to toss you a hat.

“if you make a mess in that closet, you’re cleaning it,” you remind him, rolling your eyes at the immediate clatter noise punctuating your words.

“oops,” he mumbles, standing up and waving you off before you can say anything else. “it’s fine, i put everything back!”

you don’t fully believe him, but you know he has more respect for you than to leave your closet a complete disaster, so you hope for the best.

“if you say so,” your voice ends on a higher note, giving away your skepticism as you roll the hat on over your head.

“to answer your question, we are getting out of here for a while,” he finally explains the sudden transition from your lazy day, “you’ve been studying way too hard. you’re literally smarter than most of the class, you have no reason to stress out as much as you do about this stuff,” he shrugs, and you try to ignore the way his words make your chest warm. it’s nice to hear it once in a while, you suppose.

“should we even be going out there? there’s an advisory out for like, the whole area,” you gesture out the window where the snow billows on, staring at jungkook as he holds out your jacket for you to put your arms into.

you do, hesitantly. he does the same, stating “we’ll make it quick, don’t worry,” leading you to the door where you both step into your boots.

your lazy afternoon is evident by both of your sluggish movements. despite the heaviness of your limbs, you feel a certain buzz whenever jungkook hatches an idea. you always, always have fun with him, no matter what’s on the agenda.

today is a rare day where school and work aren’t interfering with your respective schedules, the first one in about a month. you feel a little guilty about that, to be honest.

admittedly, you sometimes get so in your own head that it becomes easy to forget about calling or texting. luckily for you, jungkook is pretty good about staying in touch. he almost always stops by on his way home from class to give you snacks to get you through your night lecture, he sends you stupid memes at all hours of the night to remind you of your synched sense of humor, and makes a habit of facetiming you whenever he witnesses something so cool you just had to see it too.

spying him out of the corner of your eye, the fondness melts right off your face when you realize he’s still adorning that dumb santa hat. his hand extends to the door handle, and your eyes widen in panic as you say his name.

“hold on,” you said, reaching out for the door, “i am not stepping out with you in this hat,” you gesture to the red monstrosity covering jungkook's head.

“what? no way, the hat is staying,” he reaches for the door again, unbothered and ready to step out before you slap your hand against the door.

“jungkook, please,” you begged, staring into his twinkling eyes as he laid his hand over yours on the door handle, an impromptu staring contest starting between you two.

ah, yes. another thing that bonded you and jungkook was your stubbornness. neither one of you settled without a good fight.

“i am not leaving here until you take that hat off. also you need to promise me we aren’t doing anything illegal,” you extend your pinky with a determined knit of your eyebrows.

“i pinky promise,” he grins as he lazily bends his pinky around yours, “but the hat stays on, pookie.”

“okay then,” you act as if you are about to kick off your shoes as you walk back to your bed, grinning when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist to pull you back to him with a whiny “nuh uh!”

“yeah, huh! we are not walking around like santa and mrs. clause right now,” you huff, eyeing the way the hat sat on his head closer as you leaned back on his chest. you hate that he actually makes the hat work for him, but it doesn’t surprise you at all. on anyone else, it would look plain stupid. jungkook has the magic touch, though; every new style, hobby, and passion he tries looks good on him.

“fine, scrooge!” he relents, “but i get to walk you to the rest of your finals looking like this,” he poses, melting into a grin when you sigh in defeat.

“see! i can compromise,” he practically sings as he tosses the hat over to your desk, holding the door open for you and following you out into the hallway with a toothy grin that voices his triumph.

you shake your head in mock disappointment, unable to stop from grinning as you pat down your coat pocket to make sure you have your key with you before pulling the door shut.

“yeah, yeah. just don’t embarrass me in public today, you doofus.”

and he hasn’t, surprisingly. but by the time you get to your destination, which jungkook deemed top secret information, you are presented with another issue. the sun is now setting and the winds are starting to pick up at a brutal pace.

“this better be worth it,” you shiver, and you swear jungkook’s teeth are chattering beside you, but you honestly can’t tell with his puffer hood so far over his face and the pelting ice coming at you from all directions.

jungkook may respond but you don’t hear it, not when he grabs your hand and hisses at the nipping breeze, making the executive decision to lead you across the crosswalk to get into the parking lot.

when you finally look up from the ground, you squeeze his hand in excitement, spying a sign on the door with ‘Bakery & Cafe’ at the forefront.

jungkook eyes you when you uncharacteristically squeal, chortling to himself when you whisper an awe-struck, “heaven.”

“enjoy it, this is the only heaven you’ll get int- okay, okay!” he bellows out a belly laugh when you rip your hand from his and recoil it to your chest, letting him reclaim it with a huff.

“you know, sometimes i think you need a clamp on that mouth,” you purse your lips at your friend, who merely hums in response as he opens the door for you to step into the warm air of the cafe.

you both sigh at the contrast in temperature, shuffling further into the establishment to eye the menu.

“find a spot and i’ll order us some good shit,” he delegates, rolling his neck to look at you when you laugh through your nose.

“some good shit? i swear to god, you better not order the whole menu again. i got way too sick to even function last time we went out!” you remind him, jungkook grinning at the memory from last semester.

“hey, all that mattered was that you enjoyed it! trust me though, i wouldn’t do that to either of us again,” he says, your confused gaze softening as he lets his bottom lip protrude in a perfect pout. goddamn your best friend and his insane duality.

it was one of the things that intrigued you the most about him. your first impression of jungkook was that he looked scary, to be honest. the only color he ever wore back when you first met was black, he had a lip ring hooked over his bottom lip, and what looked like a skeletal hand tattooed on his forearm.

however, all of your expectations were proven wrong when you got paired to work with him on a project halfway through your first semester. he was softspoken and relatively reserved at first, but once you cracked his initial shyness, he laughed a lot…and in reality, he was insanely dorky.

“i was the one with the stomachache, koo,” you remind him, leaning against his arm as you waited for the person in front of you to finish ordering.

“yeah, but i had to go to class for a week without you! professor jung almost ate me alive,” he shuddered at the memory. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, directing them sideways to look at the man.

“anyways, i was just gonna order some hotteok,” he proposes nonchalantly, but it’s obviously feigned as he knows it’s one of your favorite snacks from childhood.

he smirks when you gasp and grip his arm, immediately bobbing your head in excitement.

“okay,” he grins, “i’m serious, go pick a spot. i’m paying tonight,” he wiggles his eyebrows, taking out a stack of cash from his latest weekend gig.

“wait, seriously? no way,” your brows knit together, taking a step back to eye him skeptically when he nods. “we always go halfsies. what did you do?”

he merely squints his eyes and shoves his shoulder into yours, instinctively reaching his arm around you when you sway with the force.

“i didn’t do anything. it’s christmas, stop questioning my kindness,” he sasses, pursing his lips as he crosses his arms stubbornly.

“oh!” you gasp, placing your hand over your heart, “in the spirit of christmas!” you can’t help the sarcasm dripping from your words, and jungkook can’t help the grin on his face from spreading wider by the second.

still, he rolls his eyes. “whatever dude, you suck,” he says, but his actions contradict his words when he reaches over to pick a stray string off of your hat that was annoyingly hanging over your nose.

with that, he moves forward to take his place in line, with you scooting off to find a window booth across the cafe.

when you’ve sat down and taken your bulky winter coat off, your gaze wanders out to the blistering snow again. you notice it’s coming down harder, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to your exams tomorrow, wondering if those would end up being canceled as well. it would be nice to get another day off with jungkook, you think.

you sit there for another few minutes before you are broken out of your finals trance once again when a mug is set down in front of you, sweet chocolate immediately filling your senses as you inhale the steam coming off the liquid inside of it.

“cocoa, too?” you smile, lifting the mug to observe the whipped cream melting further down into the cup.

“duh! now eat up,” he gestures to the steaming plate of hotteok in his hands, transferring it to the table as he takes a seat next to you.

you snort at the way he immediately digs into the sugary pancakes, eyes closing in satisfaction as his head bobs from side to side in approval at the taste. you love the way his nostrils flare and he almost looks angry when he thoroughly enjoys food.

“damn, these are good,” he voices his thoughts, both of you humming in unison when you take your first bite at the same time he takes his second one.

“no shit, i literally need this recipe,” you murmur, savoring the sweet spice of the cinnamon swirled through the pancake dough.

“you distract them and i’ll steal it,” jungkook responds through a mouthful of food, round cheeks lifting when you nod your head along to his plan.

“it looks like it’s getting worse out there,” he notes after a moment of silence. he notices your plate is empty and serves you another portion onto your side platter.

“okay, grandpa,” you tease, the man pulling a look of mocked offense as you continue, “if you recall, someone just had to pick today of all days to go on an adventure off campus,” you quipped, raising your eyebrows at the man as he smirked down at his own hot chocolate resting in his palms.

“and someone has to get you back safely too. so i’d appreciate if you enjoy what you can here and we can bring the rest back whenever you’re ready,” he purses his lips stubbornly, corners of his mouth turning upward when you roll your eyes despite taking another big bite of your snack.

when all is said and done and you are both slipping back into your winter gear, there is a noticeably significant amount of snow that has accumulated on the ground since you were last out.

“shit,” you say at the same time as you step outside the warm cafe, doom looming over you in the form of gray clouds unleashing a mix of snow and hail. you loop your arm through jungkook’s when you lose your footing on the slick pavement beneath you, cursing out of shock.

“aish!” he hisses at the vision of you nearly going down, gripping you tighter when you regain your balance. he struggles to hold onto the box of leftover hotteok for a moment, but ends up rebalancing it in his palm before anything disastrous can happen. and it’s for his own good. if anything happened to that hotteok, you wouldn’t be able to let it go for days.

“you good?” he checks, reaching to pull your hat further over your ears from where it had slipped up in your near fall.

“good,” you respond, “it’s definitely time to get home, though.”

somehow, you both navigate the rest of the parking lot without another fall. clinging onto each other, you make it to the cement which has luckily been treated already to be less slick.

other than the occasional curse at the wind and snow blowing into your faces, it’s quiet. the serenity and comfort you’ve been dreaming of the past few weeks.

you feel guilty for neglecting jungkook for this section of the semester, especially knowing he probably doesn’t even hold any resentment against you for it.

“hey, thanks for getting me out today,” you murmur, jungkook’s hum nearly silent with the pitch of the wind.

“thanks for letting me,” he responds quietly, “i know it wasn’t on your agenda for today.”

you shrug your shoulder against him, “you know how i get at this time of the year. worried about making the right choices.”

he nods, having witnessed the many dilemmas you’d had over your major with the difficulty of your classes.

“but i’m pretty much always up for anything you have planned,” you grin, knocking your shoulder into his playfully. you whine as he wraps an arm around your neck, bringing you in closer to him with a deep laugh.

shuffling along the sidewalk, the gravitational pull between you is so natural that you don’t even realize how close you’ve gotten. his arm is a comforting weight over your shoulders, his head dipped low to brace against the wind.

“i like it when you get spontaneous on me.”

you hear but don’t see the smile in his words, gripping onto him tighter when the wind whips at you again.

his cheek turns to the left and bumps against your own, and you both chuckle at the clumsy action.

you lift your eyes from the ground and over to him, your breath catching in your throat when you realize your noses are touching.

you’re closer than you’ve ever been before, and you realize you quite like this view of jungkook. you can see all of his tiny moles decorating his face, and you get a close-up of the scar along his cheek from when he and his brother got into a fight when they were kids.

for as long as you’ve known jungkook, you would think that you’ve witnessed all sides of him. but when you notice the way he’s looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

he’s looking at you like you put the moon in the sky, and all of a sudden you’re leaning into each other further. your eyes break contact when they flick down to his lips, something you’d only ever done in what you thought was your darkest dreams. you feel like you should do more logical reasoning in this moment, but your thoughts instantly slow down when his hand tentatively rests under your jaw, tilting your chin up and tilting his head to the side.

time seems to stop, and all of a sudden his lips press against yours and all the breath gets knocked out of your chest, gripping the rough material of his jacket to stabilize your spinning head.

and even though you’re certain it’s cold enough to get hypothermia and frostbite, you find yourself feeling a warmth spread from your chest to your fingers and toes.

kissing jungkook feels so right, which feels so morally wrong. he’s your best friend, your favorite person. you’ve promised yourself to not do anything to jeopardize what you two have, and yet everything is telling you to keep going. what is happening right now?

but then he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you open your mouth against him, and you swear your brain short circuits when his tongue meets yours. he tastes sweet from your treats back at the bakery, pulling you in for more. you wrap your arms around his neck and hear him let out a quiet hum, a sound that makes you tighten your grip on him.

he kisses you like he has nothing to lose. like someone who’s not only ready to risk it all on a bet but someone who is doubling down.

you eventually pull away to breathe, immediately regretting doing so when you’re met with ice pelting your face. jungkook winces when he sees the way you cringe, taking his gloved hand to rest it on your skin in an effort to protect it.

when you open your eyes again, there’s a look you’ve never seen in jungkook’s big brown orbs. they have a softness to them, which you soon realize is vulnerability. he’s always so calm, cool, and collected that you almost can’t believe you’re seeing him in another state.

his lips are still wet from your kiss, proof and evidence of what you two had just done.

“oh my god,” you murmur, taking a piece of his hair and removing it from its current spot draping over his eye.

and oh my god is right, because his brown eyes are sparkling at you right now and you swear he holds the entire galaxy of stars within them.

“would you cringe if i said that i’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he asks, grinning when you fake a gag.

“me too, or whatever,” you timidly admit after a moment, warmth instantly flooding to your cheeks when his face lights up in response, wrapping both arms around you with excitement.

“you like meee,” he sings, and his voice is so loud that you know a few people are turning their heads to look at the two of you.

your cheeks continue to burn up involuntarily, the impact of his words making you feel even more flustered.

“oh my god, be quiet!” you laugh, jungkook watching with amusement when you turn around to continue the brief walk up the path to your building. nevertheless, you slip your hand into his waiting palm, giving it a soft squeeze that he reciprocates.

you both quicken your pace when you see that someone is holding the door open for you, grateful you don’t have to dig in your pockets with your numb fingers for your key into the building.

one would think that an event such as kissing your best friend would make things tense. jungkook, however, seems to be in his normal state, singing a song you’re unfamiliar with as he escorts you through the threshold of your building.

walking through your dorm, nothing feels weird. surprisingly, you feel relief, like a huge burden has been lifted off your shoulders. you don’t know if it was the hotteok, or the man currently leading you back to your room that changed your demeanor today. but you had a feeling it was the latter.

the immature part of you dreads the moment you step into your dorm and have to talk about what happened and what it means for your relationship. you know your therapist would scold you, but you can’t help but feel like your first instinct is to tame the fire that kiss brought within you.

you’ve never known jungkook to be casual with anyone. he has a big heart, with a lot of love to share. still, you know you can’t expect any more than that spur-of-the-moment kiss from him. it just wouldn’t be fair to either of you.

before you can get any further inside your head, you’re brought down to earth by a squeeze of your hand and a soft call of your name. you realize you’re now in front of your door, jungkook leaning against the wall and looking at you fondly.

you stare back at him, realizing for the first time that he was just as deeply in his own head as you were. he wears his heart on his sleeve, and you can practically feel his insecurity radiating off of him in this moment. you hate it.

you press your thumb to smooth over the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows, the action inciting a sigh to escape his mouth.

“is this the part where you tell me to go home and fuck off, pookie?” he bites his lip and quirks an eyebrow, and you can’t help the way your eyes follow his mouth’s movement. his lip rings glisten in the fluorescent lighting of the hallway, and you smile, but give another roll of your eyes as you pull out your key card to your room.

you hear him snicker quietly beside you, the soft noise fueling the feelings you’re so accustomed to with jungkook. he always has loved the way he can make your eyes roll so easily, the little shit. you would never say it out loud, but secretly, you love it too.

his question still hangs in the air between you, but you love the art of suspense. plus, the way his bottom lip is trapped under his teeth right now is so attractive you wish you could frame it.

the high-pitched beep of your door followed by the unlatching of the lock is all the permission you need to end his misery. you pull him closer to you by the bottom of his jacket, guiding him back into your room and basking in the surprise evident across his features.

in that moment, you toss all your worries out the window and realize what you want in an instant. jungkook, who never fails to make you feel included. who takes care of you when you’re ill, who drives miles for you just to get that soft serve ice cream you crave on random winter nights.

you don’t know why you’ve tiptoed around this for so long.

but when your hands settle on the base of his neck once more, and you briefly feel his breath wash over you as he dips down to meet your lips for the second time, you know you’ve made the right choice.

butterflies erupt in your stomach when his hand goes to support the back of your head, and the kiss grows from one of a tender nature into a higher intensity that makes you cling to him. your head goes dizzy and your knees grow weak, his soft lips opening against you as his fingers massage needed relaxation into your head.

swallowing each other's breaths and noises when the kiss gets heated, you’re not even phased when jungkook clumsily drops the box of hotteok on your floor.

pulling back to admire the man, you smile when you realize he’s doing the same. his eyes bounce over your features, pressing his forehead to yours as you catch your breath to finally answer his question.

“quite the opposite, actually.”

#bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts x oc #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc

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scorpihoe1111 · 1 month

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Synastry Observations: Part 2💞

Your Moon/Mercury falling in someone’s 3H can open the house person up to bigger ideas of logic and emotion. A person who can be closed minded, ignorant or emotionally immature can possibly become more open minded and emotionally mature and considerate when they have 3H synastry with someone as the house person learns through the planet person.

Neptune synastry, esp when in the 1H/7H can project on the planet individual a lot. The house person can see the planet person as someone better or worse than they actually are. They refuse to see the person for who and what they are, whether in a good or bad sense and have rose colored glasses.

I noticed those with 9H synastry usually have issues with one another’s in laws. It can be that the in laws might not approve of a relationship or marriage between the two, seemingly because one of the partners might be completely different from what the others parents expected their son/daughter to be in a romantic relationship with.

Ladies, if your 1H falls in a man’s Venus sign or is sextile/conjuct his Mars/Venus/ASC, he may just be obsessed with you 🫢

Same can be said if your moon falls in his 8H/12H. They can obsessed with trying to know how you feel about them and wanting to own you basically

Pluto square/opp Moon in synastry indicate an emotionally abusive relationship sometimes.

10H synastry can indicate the friendship/relationship being a publicity stunt or something that’s very much in the public eye. Many people may know of you two being together.

Unfortunately, 10H synastry can also include a lot of your beef/fights with the person to be publicized or all over social media a lot esp if 11H synastry is involved too.

Your personal planets falling in someone’s 6H or aspecting Saturn/Neptune (esp harsh aspects) can indicate someone who is consistently trying to change or “fix” you.

6H synastry can also be indicative of someone making you do physical labor for them as well.

Jupiter opp Saturn can make the Jupiter person feel like they’re being held back or tied down in a relationship with the Saturn person but usually the Saturn person is just trying to give Jupiter some responsibility.

Uranus aspecting ASC in synastry is a sign of the ASC person feeling oddly vulnerable and comfortable around the Uranus person. They usually feel like they can be themselves.

Not sure when I’ll be doing a part 3, but thanks for all the support 👏🏻

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thomato-j · 2 years

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…

#so i auditioned for a play today & for the 1st time ever i said i’d be ok with playing any gender #which like… i’ve been on t for over a year now & i’ve been a lot more comfortable in myself & confident w all the changes #& it’s so weird to think about how i never in a million years would’ve said that before now #but it seems from the callback sides that they’re considering me to play a woman #& i said that i didn’t want to take a role away from someone who identifies as a woman but that i’m ok w being considered…#anyway it’s a very strange feeling but if i do get cast i trust the prod team to work w me & do something creative w the cast’s genders #they’re also considering me for a male role but i feel like that pool of candidates might oddly be tougher to work through #also the F role is specifically asian— i’m part japanese & i’ve never been cast with that in mind before…#and anyway i’ve sort of had an unpredictable go of it over the course of my life as to whether i’m white passing or not in any given context #so this aud process is kind of a very different & new experience for me in a lot of ways #anyway if they cast me as the guy or don’t cast me at all this is all moot but #it’s just got me thinking about a lot of things.

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starlitmark · 6 months

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Summary: Your two best friends come by to help make you feel better… you hadn’t thought about your impending heat. Pairing: Alaskan Malamute!Mingi x Netherland Dwarf Rabbit (fem)!Reader x Bernese Mountain Dog!Yunho Tropes: hybrid au, friends to lovers au, abo au Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language, hybrids, pet names, small emotional breakdown, implied mxm Smut Warnings: heat/rut sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink, biting kink, knotting, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, multiple orgasms, oral (m receive), implied cockwarming, somnophilia, predator-prey play Word Count: 3,280 Note: Happy Halloween enjoy some hybrid smut!! Thank you to @wooahaeproductions for beta reading this!! suffer with me tag 🐾 @kwanisms @pyeonghongrie @mejuii

You toss your phone back down on your bed and try to will your headache away. You’re not sure what caused it, but you know you want it gone. At some point, you start to drift off into a space between awake and asleep. Although it doesn’t help much, it does allow you a bit of relief. The only thing keeping you conscious right now is the rather sensitive state of your small tan ears. Each time a bit of your hair brushes them the wrong way or your pillows rest against them oddly, you find yourself tossing again to try to remedy the uncomfortable feeling. Everything is loud too. Each sound resonates about ten times louder than it should. The cars driving outside your apartment complex are revving too loud, and the music’s base is too heavy. Your neighbor’s newborn seems to be screaming every other second. Why they’re so sensitive today, you have no idea.

Yunho and Mingi are the best friends you could ever ask for. Not many friends would go out of their way to get you fresh food and prepare it for you just because of a headache. Even better, they don’t need you to come open the door for them. At first, your other prey hybrid friends thought you were insane for giving not one, but two predator hybrids the code to your home. If you didn’t trust them, they wouldn’t have the code. You do, though.

You smell and hear them before you can see them. The moment they’re outside your apartment door, you can smell Yunho’s comforting pine scent intertwining with Mingi’s soothing Spruce scent. Something about their scents together always makes you feel warm and safe. As soon as you smell them, you hear one of them typing in the code while Mingi laughs at something Yunho has said. You decide to go greet them despite your blaring headache. Pulling on one of the severely too-big hoodies you stole from Yunho, you trudge your way out to the living room.

“There’s our little fuzzy-” Mingi stops mid-sentence.

You don’t respond to them. You walk straight forward and wrap your arms around Yunho’s waist. Due to how much smaller you are than both of them, you also hide your face in his chest, completely enveloping yourself in his pine scent. There’s a hint of pure dark chocolate under the pine, but you’re so out of it at the moment that you don’t think too deeply about it.

“Bun, are you okay?” Yunho adds, “You, um… your scent is a bit…”

“I feel like shit.” You whine.

You can’t see it, but Yunho nods toward your calendar, telling Mingi to go check it. Mingi’s eyes widen, and he looks back at the Bernese hybrid. You smell both Yunho and Mingi’s scents spike sharp. When you pull your face away from Yunho’s chest, you see him already looking down at you. His eyes are focused and unfocused at the same time. His pupils practically swallow his irises. The bunny in you makes your nose start twitching. You’re not afraid of him. You’re just a bit lost as to why he’s looking at you like that. When you try to turn to face where Mingi is standing, Yunho growls genuinely and pins his ears back.

“Yunho, let her go. We should leave the fruit and-” Mingi tries to reason, though his tone betrays him.

“You know damn well we aren’t letting this cute little bunny be all alone right now.” Yunho responds, eyes fixated on you still. “Bun, why did you let us come here when your heat is supposed to come any hour now.”

“I- um, I’ve been busy with work and-” You take a deep breath, hoping to calm yourself. “You know I’ve been busy with work… I forgot it was supposed to come today.”

You hear Mingi moving back over, practically pinning you between the two large dog hybrids. Even if you didn’t hear him move, you can feel Mingi’s body heat radiating onto you. It only serves to make you feel even hotter.

“Fuzzy, if you don’t want us to be here, tell us to leave.”

You don’t respond for a few moments. The words you so desperately need right now seem to be nowhere. The hood of Yunho’s hoodie falls off your head, exposing your small, tan rabbit ears that are pressed against the top of your head. Mingi places a hand on the top of your head, fingers slotting around your ears, making your head tip back further. You see his black and white Malamute ears peaking out from his messy fire orange and blonde hair. He seems a bit more relaxed than Yunho, who currently has a death grip on your waist. There’s the telltale sign of his sharpened spruce scent with a tinge of winter air to it. He’s far from calm right now.

“Don’t go.” You nearly whimper.

That’s all it takes for the Malamute hybrid to let out a low growl and practically attack you with a heated kiss. At first, you think about how uncomfortable it must be for him to bend so far forward to kiss you. Both dog hybrids’ scent completely surrounds you. It’s like a skin-tight cloak. You never want to escape it. Your lips are glossy with spit and puffy from how Mingi kissed you by the time he pulled away. You know you’re lost in your heat. Your head feels foggy, and all you can think about is needing to get bred. Now. Yunho practically forces your head back toward his direction. Due to his height, he has to practically bend himself in half to kiss you, just like Mingi had to.

“Should we take you to your room, little bunny?” Yunho growls into the kiss.

“Alpha,” you whine, eyebrows furrowing together.

Yunho lets out another low growl before you’re suddenly not in his arms. Mingi has taken it upon himself to take you into his instead and carry you away. You let your lips latch onto his throat, right against his primary scent gland. You catch a brief look at his fluffy black and white tail. It’s wagging in appreciation, but you know he’s far too influenced by your heat pheromones to notice it. As you nip at his skin lightly, you notice the heat radiating from Yunho, who’s hot on your trail. Before you even make it to your bedroom, Mingi pins you to the wall beside the door. Your feet are nowhere near the ground, so you opt to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. You go to speak, but the intensity of both their pheromones suddenly has your voice dying in your throat. All you can think to do is submit to them, ultimately baring your neck to them.

“Such a good little bunny.” Mingi comments with a condescending tone, “You smell like fucking candied cherries. I can’t wait to get a bite.”

“Please.” You beg, “Bite me, fuck me, breed me full. I need you. Need both of you.” You ramble through the daze of your heat.

Neither of them responds. You’re so lost in your heat that you can only focus on their scents. They smell as if they’re just as in need of this as you are. Before you know it, you’re naked and spread out on your bed. Yunho is over you, grinding against your bare core. Mingi is beside you, giving attention to your chest. You’re dripping slick all over the bed and Yunho’s sweatpants. Mingi keeps whispering filthy nothings into your ear. You can’t make them out at the moment.

Suddenly, Yunho’s body is off of yours, and you feel starkly cold compared to a few moments ago. You absolutely have a fever despite the sudden burst of cold, and you whine at the lack of contact. The Malamute hybrid happily takes his place. His lips litter small bites and kisses across your neck and chest. They wrap around your nipple, making you moan loudly. His teeth lightly tug at the sensitive peak, and you squirm at the feeling. Though, you don’t get far. Mingi has his hand pressed against your hip, keeping you in place.

“Mingi, you’re still half dressed. Move so I can fill our little cotton tail properly.” Yunho chuckles.

“Please, please, please.” You don’t know what you’re begging for exactly, but you need something.

Mingi moves a moment later. Just as you’re about to whine about the lack of contact again, you feel Yunho’s bare cock grinding against you’re soaked core.

“Do you need me to finger you open, Fuzzy?” he asks, rubbing his member between your pussy lips.

“No, just fuck me. Put a litter in me. Breed me, please, alpha. Need it, need it so bad.”

You’re on the verge of tears, and despite Yunho’s rut haze, you find him wiping away a tear that did escape your eye. Seconds later, you feel him start to push his sizable member into you. Even with your heat, you find yourself struggling to take him. Inch by inch, he sinks into you. Slick gushes out of you, scenting the room with your sweet cherry scent mixed with Yunho’s pine and Mingi’s spruce. Your mouth falls open the moment he’s fully inside you.

“Fuzzy, do you think you can handle sucking me off while Yunho fucks you full?” Mingi asks, almost breathless.

You find yourself nodding and turning your head to the side. Mingi’s hard, leaking cock is already waiting for you. Leaning up slightly, you rest your head on his upper thigh, then take him in your mouth. His woodsy scent completely invades your nose, and it sends your eyes rolling back. Yunho presses his body weight against you and buries his face against the scent gland in your neck. You wrap one hand around the base of Mingi’s cock while the other threads through Yunho’s hair. You can feel his dark brown ears twitch at the contact.

“What if I claimed you right now, Bun?” He lets one of his canines graze against your scent gland, “You’d probably let me, wouldn’t you? Be my pretty little mate. Hang off my knot and give me a few pups?”

He only says it loud enough for you to hear it. Though, the way Mingi thrusts into your mouth, you aren’t sure Yunho had said it very quietly. You pull off of his cock a moment later to gasp for air.

“You’re so damn tiny compared to us. Do you really think you can handle getting knotted by both of us? You’re tiny little pussy can barely handle me as it is.” The Bernese hybrid teases.

“Yun,” You gasp when he gives a particularly hard thrust, “Please, fuck, please. Fuck me full, knot me!”

“Now, now, won’t you let me knot you too, Fuzzy?” Mingi practically growls.

You nod before taking him back in your mouth. His eyes darken when you give him wide lust-filled eyes. Yunho keeps spewing filthy words in your ear as he fucks you at a hard, rough pace. Each time Yunho thrusts into you, he forces you to take Mingi further into your mouth. There’s no physical way that you could take the entirety of Mingi in your mouth, so you take a break from sucking his cock and replace it with your hand to the best of your ability. You feel Yunho’s knot bump against your entrance with each thrust. All you can do is spread your legs further as if it’ll help you take his knot better.

“Fuck, Bun, I’m gonna cum. Do you want me to breed you? Fuck you full of a litter?” He questions through a groan.

“Knot me, Yun,” you beg, tugging at his hair just behind his ears.

That’s all the permission he needs. A moment later, he cums deep inside you and pushes his knot into you. You have a momentary break in your heat only to immediately be sucked back into it when Mingi thrusts up into your hand. You can tell the Malamute hybrid isn’t far from cumming, so you take his tip back into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it. Mingi cums down your throat just as Yunho starts coming down from his high.

“You didn’t cum yet, Bun,” he comments, reaching between your bodies to toy with your clit.

You grind against his knot. The feeling of him rubbing your clit mixed with grinding down on his cock sends you over the edge. You convulse under him and spout random unintelligible words.

“Rest for a little, Fuzzy.” Mingi offers.

“But-”

“I’ll get to fuck you as soon as Yun’s knot goes down. Don’t worry about me,” he reminds you, “Take a little break while we have a break from our ruts.”

You rest for a few moments, Yunho’s knot still snug inside you. When you come back to, you’re no longer plugged up with Yunho’s knot. In fact, he’s not on you at all. Mingi is lapping at your pussy. You bury your hands in his long hair as if it’s second nature. His tail is lying up along his spine completely still. You know he’s either entranced in the moment or hyperfocused due to how still it is.

“Min-” You interrupt yourself with a gasp.

“What did you just call me?” he growls.

“Alpha,” You whine, “Need your cock. Need your knot. Need-”

Mingi practically throws you to be face down ass up the moment the pleas leave your lips. Only then do you process Yunho beside you on the bed. He almost looks as if he’s unbothered. The tent in his new pair of clean sweats tells you otherwise. You’re about to reach for the elastic of the pants before you feel Mingi thrust into you in one fell swoop. A broken moan leaves your mouth at the intrusion. Any and all thoughts leave your mind as he immediately sets a bruising pace. Gripping onto Yunho’s thigh, you hope to keep any threads of sanity that remain.

“Pretty, tiny little bunny.” Mingi groans, “You gonna let me knot you too?”

“Alpha, please,” you whine, “Need your knot too.”

Yunho takes it upon himself to release his member again and slide closer to grant you what you want without asking. You’re more cockwarming him with your mouth than giving him a blow job, but either way, you see a smirk grow on his face. Had you been in any other setting, you’d want to smack that look off of his face. Now, though, it only makes you more desperate.

Mingi’s grip on your hips is so tight you think there might be fingertip-sized bruises where he’s holding you. Reaching forward, he knots his fingers in your hair, being sure to be careful of your ears. Still, they’re sensitive. The moment he grazes them, you tip over the edge of another orgasm. Despite your muffled moans, he doesn’t stop or slow down. If anything, he speeds up more. Your thighs shake. If it hadn’t been for him holding you up, you would’ve absolutely collapsed. You try to look up at Yunho through your eyelashes, but Mingi is holding you down on the Bernese hybrid’s cock still. Tears spring from your eyes due to the lack of oxygen, but you absolutely love it. Mingi forces your head up and down on Yunho’s cock a few more times before the brunette cums down your throat. Only then does Mingi release your head.

“I’m gonna knot you now, pretty bunny,” he warns you.

Mingi thrusts a few more times before pushing his knot into you. A moment later, you feel his hot cum paint your walls. You whimper at the feeling and feel yet another orgasm roll over you. You can feel the cocky yet exhausted smirks on both dog hybrids’ faces.

“Let’s reposition, Fuzzy,” Mingi whispers gently, a stark contrast to how he was just speaking to you.

You nod and feel Mingi pull your body up against his before carefully maneuvering so that you’re sat in his lap rather than being face down on the mattress. Yunho leans over and gives you a soft kiss before leaning back a bit and placing a small kiss against Mingi’s bare shoulder.

“Do you have a new perfume?” Yunho asks, brushing a few knots out of your hair.

“Um, no?” You respond, “Did my scent change?”

You start to panic a bit. You know, if they did manage to knock you up already, your scent wouldn’t change for at least a week. Nothing’s impossible, though.

“You smell more flowery than cherry.” Mingi comments, half asleep.

“Mingi,” Yunho says with a concerned tone, “You can smell that too?”

“Mmm,” Mingi responds, “Cherries and… tulips? I love it.” he adds, wrapping his arms tighter around your middle. His arms practically cover your entire middle section.

“Bun, can you smell me or Mingi?” panic starts to invade his voice.

Something overtakes you, and you tears well up in your eyes again. This time it’s due to pure panic. You knew if you smelled something other than a person’s characteristic scent, that meant that they were your mate. Nothing could’ve prepared you to smell a secondary scent on both of your dog hybrid friends. Your typically sweet cherry scent must’ve soured because, one moment, Mingi had his face buried in your neck. The next, he was sat up fully and fixated on you.

“Yunho…” you say, trying not to let the tear fall or your voice betray you.

“What can you smell?”

Your bedroom stays silent.

“Fuzzy,” Mingi sighs, “No matter what, the three of us will always be friends. Tell us what you smell.”

“Both of you.” You admit, “Yunho has a dark chocolate scent with his pine. You have that crisp winter air scent with your spruce. I don’t know what that means or what to do about it, but if you both-”

Mingi turns your face and kisses you softly.

“We’ve known for a while, Yunho and I, that we can smell each other’s secondary scent. But now we know all three of us can smell the others…” Mingi explains, “Now we know we have two mates.”

Mingi’s knot had gone down, so you slip off of him to sit on your knees in front of the two large dog hybrids. Your eyes flit back and forth between them, trying to determine if this is some twisted joke. It’s not.

“Two mates,” you reiterate.

“Two mates,” Yunho confirms with a slight nod, “Two mates who are still very much in rut with a cute, tiny bunny mate that needs to be bred.”

You let out a squeak before Yunho and Mingi practically pounce you. There are about a million worse ways to spend your heat. Spending it with your two loving, caring mates is the only way you wish to spend it for the rest of your life.

Networsk: @kwritersworld @k-vanity @cultofdionysusnet @monsterfvckersunited

Tag List: @sanjoongie @jaehunnyy @ericssmile @anyamaris @almondmilkeu @shinestarhwaa @northerngalaxystar-blog

#yunho smut #mingi smut #kwritersworldnet #kvanity #cultofdionysusnet #mfu-net #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #yunho fanfic #mingi fanfic #yunho x reader #mingi x reader

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ddejavvu · 2 years

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Lost and Found - Eddie Munson x Reader (Part 1) | Part 2

WC: 4.3K / navi / preview / request

Summary: Just your luck, you get dress coded on your first day at Hawkins High. You're already ridiculed for being the senior transfer, and now on top of that, the only shirt that covers you up in the lost and found belongs to the school freak.

Contents/Warnings: reader wears eddie's shirt, reader gets bullied, lots of teasing, slight innuendos/suggestive material

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You must have set a new school record: You’ve only been attending Hawkins High for three hours, and you’ve already been dress coded. Apparently your shirt is too low-cut, even though it barely dips below your collarbones, and you were ordered to look through the lost-and-found for a suitable cover-up.

It could be worse, you muse, as you sort through the box of slightly aromatic, ratty, dusty clothes, they could have put it on your school record. Though, as a senior transferring to the school for one last year, you don’t care what’s on your record. They could hate you, for all you care, as long as you graduate. It’s not like you’ll ever have to deal with them again.

Unfortunately, it looks like everything in the box before you is either three sizes too big, or three sizes too small. The beaded tank top that you pull out near the bottom is even worse than your shirt, and you guarantee it wouldn’t go over well with faculty. There’s a winter coat in the mix, but summer still clogs the air with sticky heat, and you refuse to cover yourself up with that. After sorting through the bin for almost five minutes, the only thing even remotely suitable for you is a baseball tee that looks like it’s homemade.

It’s a white shirt with black sleeves, and a ring around the neck. It’s certainly interesting. There’s a red devil on the front, horns protruding eerily from its head, and weapons frame its face, ready for battle. Then two multifaceted dice are poised below the text, numbers etched into their faces.

The bold black text over the picture reads ‘HELLFIRE CLUB,’ and it stinks of what you’re suspicious is weed. You’re not sure what the Hellfire Club is, you presume it’s an underground band of some sort, but you don’t have time to figure it out. There’s a red stain on the chest, what you presume (and pray) is spaghetti sauce, but it’s your best bet in the lost and found bin, so you slip it on and hope that they’ll let you go without any further incident.

Thankfully it’s lunchtime, so when you slip out of the office mostly unnoticed, the shirt resting rather comfortably over your frame, you make a beeline for the cafeteria. You get stares, odd murmurs thrown about you as you walk down the line, people from packed tables squinting oddly at your shirt. You can’t really blame them, either, because you’d squint at it too if you’d seen it on someone else. You’re already silently resigning yourself to being The New Kid when you sit down on the ground, the tables either full or sending you funny glances when you try to sit down with them.

The first thing you do is pull out a walkman and headphones. They slip comfortably over your ears, shielding you from the disheartening whispers thrown around about you. You’re absolutely certain that this is going to damage your reputation, on Day One no less, but what are you supposed to do? Your only option is this stupid shirt: damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.

You bury yourself in your lunch, though it’s not appealing. Coleslaw oozes messily around your plate, and you try pushing your fries out of the way, but it’s too late. They’re soaked, and you’ve lost your appetite. You push the tray away from you, and it sits there sadly on the ground. You dig a book out from your backpack, letting your eyes skim over the words instead of the people around you.

“Eddie,” Dustin is out of breath when he sits down, too excited to inform his friend of the strange thing he’d managed to witness in the lunch line to think about breathing, “Eddie, the new kid’s wearing a Hellfire shirt!”

Eddie’s brows furrow, and he munches thoughtfully on a pretzel, “You’re out of your mind, Henderson.”

“No! No,” He shakes his head, “Honest! Look,” He points to you, the text over the devil on your shirt clear as day over your book, “I saw ‘em on my way back from class! They just walked in with it.” He lets out a breathy laugh, “Do you think it’s catching on? Like, you think there’s more than just us? Do you think there’s members all around the world?!”

“Dumbass,” Jeff swats at the back of Dustin’s head, “How could it be catching on, no one knows about it but us.”

“Maybe they-“ Dustin is eager to elaborate on his theory, prepared to make up some hair-brained theory as to how the transfer student could have heard about Hellfire outside of Hawkins, but Eddie’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, and he waves a hand at Dustin, effectively silencing the boy.

“There’s a stain there. On the left.” He recognizes the messy splotch, his face twisting in indignance, “That’s my shirt!”

“I thought you lost that one,” Mike frowns, his hair hanging over his face, “How’d she get it?”

“I dunno,” Eddie stands abruptly, tossing his bag of trail mix to the table and tugging his jacket determinedly around his shoulders, “But I’m gonna find out.”

In only ten minutes, you’re already getting used to the stares. They dishearten you every time, something inside of you sinking whenever someone points or peers at you. But apparently you’re just going to have to accept your spot in the school, your back forever pressed against the cafeteria wall as your tray rests on the floor. It’s only for one year, you reason, you can tough it out.

Loneliness seeps through the cold linoleum flooring, slightly sticky from god knows what, and raises goosebumps over your legs. You’re absolutely certain it would be more comfortable to sit out in the woods behind the school, and you’re only two seconds away from moving when a pair of shoes enters your vision, right in front of your crossed legs.

"Pray tell," The boy who crouches in front of you has dark eyes, his white sneakers creasing as he bounces on his thighs, "What are you doing in my shirt?"

You tug your headphones off of your ears as you stare up at him blankly, your eyes drifting over the pins adorning his jacket. You recognize a few bands, a curse word or two, but then he dips his head to meet your eyes, his question still in the air.

"Oh, I-" You flounder, tugging at the hem of the shirt nervously, "I'm really sorry. Is this yours? I didn't know."

"It's mine," He reaches up to flick the stain on the front, "That was from an unfortunate driving-while-eating incident."

You giggle at the thought, and his eyes snap back to yours, his grin ever-growing as you speak, "It was in the lost and found. They dress coded me," You recall exasperatedly, "It was the only thing I could find."

"Dress coded?" He cocks his head to the side, "Shit, what are you wearing underneath?"

The question has your eyes widening, your cheeks flaming, and your throat going dry. It’s not blatantly sexual, hell, you’re just wearing a low-cut top, but the boy in front of you is stunning, and the grin that he’s wearing is definitely suggestive.

“Um-” You start, raising the hem of his shirt slightly to reveal the pattern of your top, “It’s just-”

“I’m teasing,” He clarifies, pushing against your shoulder with one hand in a teasing gesture, “Don’t worry about it.” He plops down onto the floor in front of you, squinting distastefully at your soggy fries, “Normally I’d try to steal a few, but those look like they’d land me in the hospital.”

“I think I’ll have to start bringing lunch from home,” You sigh resignedly, “Unless the food here gets any better than this?”

“Not that I know of,” He shakes his head, brown frizzy curls bouncing around his face airily as he does so, “I bring my own food too.”

You hum in acknowledgement, only then realizing you don’t know his name.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” You pipe up, holding out your hand for a shake. He stops perusing your discarded lunch and grins amusedly at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the expression.

“Eddie.” He offers, shaking your hand once, firmly, “You’re new, right?”

“Yeah,” You nod, glancing around at the few scattered pairs of eyes on you now that Eddie is sitting with you, “It’s a little harder than I thought it’d be.”

“That shirt probably isn't helping.” Eddie grimaces sympathetically, “We’re not exactly the kings of the school.

“We?” Your brows furrow in confusion.

“The Hellfire Club…?” He raises his eyebrows, tugging apart the chest of his jacket to reveal an identical shirt to yours, though sans-stain, “We sit over there.”

Your lips part slightly at the shock of seeing another shirt like the one you’re wearing, and you glance dazedly over to where he’s pointing. Five sets of eyes try appearing casual at your attention, two turning to each other and whispering as the other three bury themselves in a magazine one is holding.

“I didn’t realize it was a thing,” You admit, the corners of your lips curving up softly, “I figured it was, like, a band or something.”

“Well I’m in a band!” Eddie supplies eagerly, his face brightening. But he dims down after to appear more nonchalant, clearing his throat and schooling his face into a more neutral expression, “We’re a DnD party, though, Hellfire.”

“Oh, I’ve never played.” You admit sheepishly, “But it seems really cool!”

“Cool…?” Eddie quirks a brow at you, and the way that he’s staring at you has you questioning whether you’ve grown a third head, “DnD, like, Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Yeah,” You nod vehemently, “A lot of my friends back home played, but I never really got into it. It seemed really complicated.”

“It kind of is,” A smile grows over Eddie’s face, albeit a perplexed one, “But once you get the hang of it it’s fun. I.. I won’t lie, ‘cool’ is just about the last word I expected you to call our hobby.”

“I’ve sat in on a few sessions,” You recall, remembering the raucous shouts and heated battles that your friends got up to, “I usually just read fantasy novels, it was different watching one play out in real time.”

“Ooh, fantasy novels?” His face scrunches in good-natured disbelief, “You surprise me more and more every time you speak. Y’got any recommendations? I’m always looking for new inspiration for our campaigns.”

You suddenly remember the book in your lap, your pointer finger still lodged between the pages. You hastily hold it out to him, showcasing the cover, “This one’s good. The author’s from my old town,” You smile at the memory of her book signing, “It’s about a warrior prince who has to fight his way through hell, and he befriends a demon. She ends up helping him through,” You offer the book to Eddie with raised brows, “Anything you’d wanna borrow?”

“I don’t wanna steal it from you just yet,” He pokes carefully at your finger between the pages, “But let me know when you finish it, and I’ll be all over that.”

His tone is fascinating to you, an air of constant amusement around him that you’d never seen before. He seems to find interest in everything, and it feels amazing to be listened to by someone who cares so deeply about someone he’s never met before. You nod cheerily at him, some of the weight lifting from your chest at the knowledge that you’ve made a friend.

“Dude,” Dustin peers cautiously at you, his heart still racing from when you’d caught them staring only seconds before, “I think he’s smiling!”

“I can’t see,” Jeff huffs, a frown twisting over his face as he tries eyeing you two over Mike’s head, “You’re in the way, Wheeler.”

“Sor-ry,” Mike grumbles, ducking down, “She already caught us staring once, don’t push your luck.”

“Why is he still down there?” Dustin turns to his friends with an exaggerated furrow in his brows, “Do you think he’s coming back?”

“He’d better,” Gareth mumbles, flicking the tin lunchbox Eddie had left behind, “I’m not getting in trouble if a teacher finds this.”

“Oh, oh my god!” Dustin glances back over his shoulder one last time, seeing Eddie helping you to your feet, “They’re both coming over here!”

“So,” Eddie hums, lifting the edge of your lunch tray and letting it fall to the floor again with a smack, “There’s only, like, ten minutes of lunch left, but if I sit on this shitty floor for any longer,” He raps a knuckle against the linoleum, “I’m gonna be walking funny. Do you wanna come sit with me and my friends?”

This is it. This is your chance, your invitation into friendship. You try to appear casual, try pretending like your heart isn’t beating out of your chest at Eddie’s proposal, and you nod a little too eagerly.

“I’d love to,” You gush softly, “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Of course,” He laughs, the sound breathless and incredulous, “Just know, uh, this is kind of your last chance at having a reputation around here. It’s okay if you say no, I don’t wanna ruin your senior year of high school.”

“Why would you ruin it?” You tilt your head to the side and Eddie thinks you look rather akin to a confused puppy. It makes something stir in his chest, fondness creeping into his tone as he responds.

“Don’t you remember what I said earlier? We’re not very popular,” Eddie sighs lightly, trying to cover up the hint of insecurity that presents itself in his eyes, “We’re sort of the outcasts. I don’t want you to sign your popularity away before it can even get started.”

“I don’t want to be popular.” You decide right then and there, determination in the frown on your face, “Not if they make fun of you.”

You’re expecting a witty quip, already accustomed to the boy’s confident exterior. What surprises you, though, is the way that his mouth shuts, no words coming out of it as he gnaws thoughtfully on his lower lip. He studies you, his eyes boring into your own as his face hardens. You’re certain you’ve said something wrong, you’re worried that now you’ve messed things up, but then he smiles again, much softer this time. The expression is gentle, and shows off his shiny brown doe eyes, “You’re really something, aren’t you?”

“Hm?” You stare at him, equally entranced by his shift in character.

“You..” He starts, shaking his head bewilderedly, “A lot of the people here are raging assholes. Like, raging. But you’re.. You don’t seem like one.”

“I hope I’m not.” You huff out a laugh, “I don’t want to be a raging asshole.”

“Just another thing we have in common.” Eddie stands, breaking the stupor that had befallen you both and holding out his hand to help you off of the ground, “Now, we technically don’t have room at the table for you. But you can take my seat, I’ll stand for a bit.”

“No, no it’s okay!” You pull out of his grasp, eyes wide in fear of being a burden, “I can stand if I need to! I can take one for the team,” You assure him, bending over to pick up your tray and missing the way his eyes dart to your backside, “You just sat on the ground for me.

“Exactly,” He plucks the tray from your hands, dumping the cold, soggy food into a garbage can and leaving it with other used ones, “It’ll give me an opportunity to stretch my legs.” He swings one of his legs out to accentuate his point, the frayed strings of his jeans billowing in the rush of air against them.

“Only if you’re sure,” You let him lead you over to the table he’d pointed at earlier, his friends all watching you cautiously, “I really don’t want to put you out.”

“Nonsense.” He insists in that dramatic fashion of his, something you’re growing ever-fond of. His hands flit to your shoulders before you can even offer a polite wave to anyone sitting at the table, and he maneuvers you to plop down into his empty seat, “What’s mine is yours, Y/N.”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean it to be such an all-encompassing statement, but it makes your cheeks flare anyway. You direct your attention to his friends to stave off your bashfulness, not wanting him to see the way he gets to you after only knowing him for fifteen minutes.

One is smiling brightly at you, curls framing the boy’s face. Another two are sending cautious grins your way, seated opposite each other at the table. Then two others, decidedly older than the bunch, stare at you expressionless. The only thing they seem to have in common are their shirts, one of which you’re still wearing.

“Hello,” You offer lamely, waving sheepishly at them, “Uh, I’m Y/N, I’m new here.”

“And she likes DnD,” Eddie nearly cuts you off in his haste, “‘Thinks it’s ‘cool’.”

His statement draws a chuckle from his friends, and one of the younger-looking ones turns to you.

“I’m Dustin! I saw you earlier,” The curly-haired boy informs you, thankfully cheery in his greetings, “I couldn’t figure out why you were wearing a Hellfire shirt, so I told Eddie.”

“Oh,” You laugh awkwardly, glancing down at the stained shirt over your body, “I got dress-coded.”

“On your first day?” One of the older ones raises an eyebrow, “Tough luck. I’m, uh- Jeff, by the way. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” You nod thankfully at him, “Yeah,” You feel Eddie’s hands tighten around your shoulders and you tense slightly, “Teachers here are strict.”

“Tell me about it,” Eddie groans from above you, reaching over your shoulder to fasten his lunchbox shut and to grab a pretzel that he’d left behind, “I got caught smoking once and now I’m on some sort of watchlist.”

One of his friends, an older one on your left, snickers heartily at the story. Eddie apparently doesn’t appreciate it, though, because you watch him pelt the boy with a walnut in a matter of seconds.

You laugh incredulously as the boy flinches, and you’re almost worried that he’ll take offense to it. But you can’t tell, because Eddie leans over you, his hair tickling your face as he stares down at you amusedly. You glance up, return a guilty smile, Eddie motions to his bag of snack mix.

“Help yourself,” He offers, picking an almond out of the bag, “I did sort of throw away your lunch, I think it’s only fair you get some of mine.”

“I wasn’t gonna eat that anyways,” Your nose wrinkles at the mention of your soggy fries, “Don’t worry about it, Eddie.”

“Just take some,” He groans, jabbing a pretzel at your lips. It’s sloppy, because he can’t see what he’s doing, and he hits your chin. You giggle incredulously, squeak out a laugh, and take it from him. He pats your head as praise, “You’re too nice, you always decline shit from people.”

“How would you know?” You speak indignantly around your pretzel, “You barely know me!”

“And you’ve already tried weaseling your way out of favors twice,” He raises an eyebrow at you unimpressed, “Take some trail mix.”

You glance around at the others, traces of mirth on their faces. You realize that he must do this often, make a scene. You widen your eyes, plucking another pretzel from the bag, “Is he always this insistent with his snacks?”

“He never shares,” Dustin contradicts you, “‘Swear to god, I asked him for one M&M the other day: absolutely nothing.”

“You little shit,” Eddie’s hands leave your shoulders as he lunges for Dustin, locking the boy into place with an arm around the neck. You know it’s gentle, it’s not really hurting Dustin judging by the laughter spilling from the boy, and a soft smile creeps over your face. Eddie is clearly the heart of the group.

“Well hey,” One of the younger boys turns to you, his hair hanging around his face like a curtain, “If you’re keeping that shirt, you might as well use it. We actually need a sub for tomorrow night, if you want to play.”

“Oh,” You flounder at the request, everyone’s eyes flitting towards you, “Your DnD campaign? I don’t really know how to play.” You admit hesitantly, “I usually just watch.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie soothes you, letting go of Dustin to hover behind your chair again, patting your back, “We can take it slow. We don’t really need to get that much done tomorrow,” He promises, “I’ll help you out.”

“Are you sure? If it’s too much trouble, I can-” You stop dead in your tracks when Eddie raises a brow, nearly glaring at your attempt to brush off another kind gesture.

“... I mean, I’d love to.” You grin placatingly at him, a rush of warmth flooding through your chest at his approving nod.

“Perfect,” His words are punctuated by the ringing of the bell, signaling the end of lunch time, “What class do you have next?”

You dig your schedule out of your backpack as everyone stands, the paper already crumpled slightly, “Uh, O’Donnel?”

“Oh!” Eddie nods understandingly, “I’ve got her first. I’ll walk you, it’s over there.” He points lazily towards the left cafeteria door.

“Thank you,” You smile brightly at him and he returns it with a nod, taking your backpack from you before you could sling it over your shoulder. You look at him fondly, struck with incredulity at the kindness of a near-stranger, but he doesn’t let you prase him anymore, starting for the door.

“Bye,” You wave hurriedly at the few stragglers at your new table, all of them waving back just as kindly, “It was nice meeting you!”

“Nice meeting you, too.” One of them pipes up, a buffalo-print vest draped over his shoulders as his messy brown hair dips slightly into his forehead.

“See you tomorrow?” Dustin asks hopefully, gesturing towards your shirt.

“Yeah,” You nod brightly, “See you tomorrow!”

Eddie tugs you along as soon as you’re done talking, taking long steps across the floor you’d been unlucky enough to sit on for the majority of lunch. Even if it had only been for a few minutes, though, you’re happy to have sat with Eddie and his friends, because they made you feel welcome.

You voice this to him before you step through the doors of Ms/ O’Donnel’s class, lingering by the threshold, “Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He hums curiously, waiting to send you off to your next period.

“Thank you,” You sound like a broken record but you don’t care, filled with thankfulness for his kind gestures, “Really, I know I’ve said it a lot but I really mean it. If it weren’t for you I’d have sat on that stupid floor all period,” You remember the cold, unforgiving linoleum, “And- and now I get to learn how to play DnD!”

Your exuberance melts Eddie’s heart, not that he wants to admit it, and he feels his grin become permanent over his face. Anytime he looks at you, he’s certain it’ll be there.

“Don’t mention it,” He shuffles his feet, suddenly bashful under your shower of gratitude, “Seriously, I’m glad you’re not on the floor anymore.”

“Me too.” You giggle, taking a step back into the classroom as he starts walking towards his own class, “Oh, and Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He turns back to you with a raised brow.

“The shirt?” You tug it away from your chest and let it fall back again, “When should I give it back?”

“Tell you what,” A smirk crosses his face, sending a spark up your spine as he steps towards you again, “You come by my place tonight, and I’ll teach you the basics of DnD. You can bring that book, and maybe I’ll knock out a few chapters while you’re learning. Then maybe you can show me what’s under there,” Eddie quips, tugging at the shirt’s hem with narrowed eyes, “I’m dying to know what the faculty deemed inappropriate.”

His bold offer has your stomach twisting, and you feel your heart in your throat. Your prolonged silence seems to humble him, and uncertainty flashes through his eyes, “Unless of course, um, I was too forward, and you’re not interested, in which case I’ve probably totally misread this and ruined whatever was going on, and I’m so-”

“Eddie!” His rambling is ridiculously endearing to you, and you grip his hand before he can flee the scene, “I.. I’d like that.”

His shoulders slump in relief and you watch the tension drain from his figure, “Really? Shit, you had me scared there. What’s your address, sweetheart?”

Even though it’s sweeter and less bold than his statement only seconds before, the pet name has your legs weakening. You’re sure Eddie will catch you if you fall, though, he hasn’t known you for an hour and he’s already your savior.

“Here,” You grab a scrap of paper from the side pocket of your backpack, pulling a pencil out alongside it and scribbling your address down, “What time do you wanna meet?”

“I’ll pick you up at six,” Eddie promises, tucking the paper into the pocket of his jacket, “Does pizza sound good?”

“Pizza sounds perfect.” You grin, finally stepping into the classroom and absentmindedly searching for an empty seat, “See you then!”

Eddie stands in the hallway, watching wistfully as you pick out an empty seat in the back. Your book is on the desk in seconds, your nose buried intently in it as the class gets seated. The endearing behavior only warms the pit of Eddie’s stomach more, and he turns before he can ruin the situation by being caught staring. He tucks his head down, stalking bouncily off to his next class with a smile on his face, “See you then, Y/N.”

tags: @superflannel @the-jackals @lem0nb0iii @folkwhorexx @poltergeistsblog @annoylinglyaries @themidnaoftime @1800-fight-me @feminist-mina-harker @lost-my-sanity @silverrings-n-prettythings @imsouyya @solace-in-death @ellehcimmunson @hells--angel @yourfavoritefangirl @pepperquin @vonelle @justmyheart @fuschite @burnyourtrains @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @duuhrayliegh @clubfairy @tssf-imagines @eddieswifu @ajokeformur-ray @villain-friend @svr2003 @pameladawson @harrys-tittie @madslchambers @aedicn @crankgameplayssimp @justletmelivethanks @reidsog @eddielives1986

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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mrspasser · 2 months

Text

I'll lay my head down here

Sterek fanfiction Stiles needs a place to sleep. He chooses Derek.

Also available on A03.

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“I’m not sleeping on the floor again, you assholes!” Stiles throws a balled up burger wrapper at the infuriating werewolves who took over his intended sleeping space.

Isaac bats the greasy paper ball away with a quick flick of his hand, hardly having to look at it. “You snooze, you lose, Stilinski,” he says meanly, as he snuggles deeper inside the couch pillows to drive his point home. “Besides, I gave up my bed, I shouldn’t be the one to sleep on the floor.”

Stiles perks up when an idea crosses his mind. Upstairs, in Isaac’s room, are Lydia and Cora. Maybe he could -

“Don’t even think about it, Stilinski!” Jackson cuts his unspoken thought off with one sharp remark. He glares at him from his spot on the couch he’s sharing with Isaac: one asshole werewolf on each side. The guy is extra touchy because Lydia picked Cora as a sleeping partner over him - which is more than fair, if you ask Stiles, both Lydia picking Cora over Jackson and Jackson being sour over getting the cold shoulder from his girlfriend.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I don’t think you’ll fit,” Allison offers apologetically from his right. She’s squeezed in the large armchair with Scott, who’s already fast asleep and snoring softly.

He waves her offer away. If he’d try to squish himself in the chair with them, neither one of them would sleep a wink all night. Same goes for the couple in the other available chair, although Stiles is more sure to survive the night with Scott and Allison than with Boyd and Erica. That only leaves -

“You could try Derek?” Allison blinks innocently at him.

Stiles huffs a laugh, letting the sarcasm bleed through in generous helpings. “Yeah, right.” He leaves it at that, too tired to hope to put up the proper facade of pretending to dislike the Alpha werewolf. Hey, we all deal with our crushes in our own way! Stiles has to do what he can when literally living with a pack of wolves, who can smell pheromones and who knows what else.

Eventually, he settles for stretching out on the rug that Lydia made Derek buy a while back. It’s not overly cushiony, but it’ll do the job. It’ll have to. Besides, he hasn’t had a proper night of sleep in four or maybe even five days, staying up researching and worrying most of the night. The Big Bad is dead, the worrying is over and his research paid off: he should be able to sleep now, right?!

At first, Stiles uses his hoodie for a pillow, yet after about twenty minutes he gives up and pulls it back on because he won’t be able to sleep if he’s cold. Derek patched up most of the holes in his loft and it’s actually resembling a nice apartment these days, but it’s still the middle of the night in February and Stiles is lying on the floor without a blanket or a pillow. He misses his own bed. His comforter. His pillow. His other pillow, the one that’s older than him and oddly lumpy, but it was the one that was in his mother’s bed until the day she died. It hasn’t smelled like her in a long, long time. Stiles has also washed it a couple of times during the years, he’s not that much of a pig, despite popular opinion. But it’s familiar and comforting and he still takes it with him for sleepovers with Scott.

He considers whether or not he would’ve brought his pillow if this impromptu sleepover had been planned in any way. He’s known Scott since kindergarten, he’s his best friend. He wouldn’t say or even think anything bad about Stiles still needing a special pillow to sleep even when he’s almost twenty one years old. And while he knows most of the people in this room for five years or even longer and trusts them with his life, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a bunch of dickheads who will tease him every chance they get.

It’s a pointless thought exercise, because nothing about this sleepover was planned. They were supposed to kill that wyvern during the day, when it slept in his creepy little cave. That's what all Stiles’ research was for! He even found a way to kill the beast without having to hack it to pieces, which was nice because in the end he was against animal cruelty, you know? But then there were witches, two of them. They weren’t planned, neither was the ensuing fight in the woods. The unexpectedness of it all had left everybody antsy, especially the werewolves. And even though they recouped with a movie night and a nice pack pile, nobody wanted to be very far away from the others. Hence the impromptu sleepover that had Stiles sleeping on a rug, between the coffee table and the couch. Which wasn’t fair, because he totally knocked a witch out with his bat! He did his fair share and pulled his weight and what not. The least he deserves is a nice night of sleep.

Another hour later, Stiles is sore all over and chilled to the bone. There’s no way he can sleep like this. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” he whispers to the leg of the coffee table that he knows has Isaac’s claw marks on it.

As quietly as he can he makes his way upstairs on the rounding stairs. On the landing there’s three doors to choose from: the one on his left leads to Isaac’s bedroom, where Lydia and Cora are sleeping. The one in the middle is the bathroom - with a bath, for heaven’s sake, Derek has a tub! - and that leaves the master bedroom on his right. The Alpha’s den. Stiles has never been inside it. He even doubts if Isaac has set foot in the room very often, besides for cleaning purposes.

Stiles never really intended to go into Derek’s room, because despite what the others seem to think, he actually values his life. And his dignity. He thought it better to take a chance with the girls, take on the risk of Jackson wanting to kill him the next morning when he discovered Stiles had slept in the same bed as his girlfriend.

But…

The door to Derek’s bedroom is cracked.

Stiles can see inside.

He can’t see that much, with it being the middle of the night and the only light coming from a gap between the curtains in front of Derek’s window. But the moonlight is just right, illuminating the sleeping form of the Alpha in the bed. A bed that is more than large enough for two people and Derek is neatly sleeping on one side of the bed. If Stiles is quiet enough he might even be able to slip into the bed without waking Derek. The werewolf got hurt pretty badly today and healing always takes a lot out of him. There’s a pretty good chance the guy is sleeping like a log.

Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s gonna risk it.

***

He didn’t think he’d actually do it, but after a few minutes of indecisiveness on the landing, Stiles quietly tiptoes into Derek’s bedroom. He rounds the bed to the unoccupied side of the mattress and gingerly lifts the tip of the blanket.

“You’re not getting in with your jeans on,” Derek says, without opening his eyes.

Stiles yelps and he’s already stammering halfway through an apology when he suddenly shuts his mouth. His back teeth actually click together. There’s a few seconds of silence and then: “You’d let me into your bed?”

“Not with your jeans on,” Derek repeats. Usually he wouldn’t do this, but he’s been listening to Stiles toss and turn downstairs for a while now and with all of his pack members sleeping peacefully, he’d like the last one to get some rest too. Besides, Stiles would continue to keep him up with his restless behaviour otherwise; Derek just can’t seem to tune him out. It’s been that way for years already, maybe even from the beginning.

“O-kay.” He can feel Stiles staring at him in the dark and he patiently waits for the decision he knows the boy is gonna make. No, not a boy. Stiles will be 21 this Spring. Derek has seen him grow up, literally and figuratively, along with the rest of his ragtag pack of teenagers. Stiles still wears jeans and plaid most of the time, but the garments don’t hang as loose on him as they did when he was 16. He’s grown into a handsome young man, with a good head on his broad shoulders. Derek counts himself lucky to have Stiles as part of his pack, to have him close. Not as close as he sometimes might wish, yet Derek is always conscious of not playing favourites. So he usually keeps Stiles at an arm length and takes care to treat him just like everyone else. It helps that the two of them elevated snark and banter to an effective communication style. Despite all the sarcasm and barbs, Derek is pretty sure there is no-one in his pack who sees through him like Stiles does. It was scary at first and it made him lash out, but Stiles stood firm. Derek is immensely grateful that he did.

There’s the rustling of clothing hitting the floor, jeans and a shirt, then the blanket lifts and Stiles scoots underneath. Derek feels him settle in behind his back, a foot or so away. “Thanks,” Stiles whispers in the dark.

“Go to sleep,” Derek grunts, eager to go to sleep and not think about the young man who is sharing his bed.

***

Derek’s bed is pretty comfortable, Stiles thinks to himself as he digs himself in. Oh, who is he kidding?! Derek’s bed is amazing. The mattress is just the right combination of firm and soft, the pillow hugs his head and shoulders just right and the comforter is warm but still light to the touch. It’s a million times better than his bed at home, even when he’s not counting the fact that he’s sharing the bed with a hot werewolf.

Yet Stiles can’t sleep.

Yes, the pillow is heavenly. Yes, the mattress allows his tired body to finally relax. Yes, the comforter hugs him nicely. But there’s something missing and Stiles knows exactly what it is. His pillow.

He needs to hold something. He needs to be able to curl around something. Or someone, his traitorous brain suggests as he feels Derek move across from him.

“Why aren’t you asleep, Stiles?” Derek asks in that long-suffering tone he uses when Stiles is doing something to annoy him. Which is pretty often, although Stiles knows the annoyance is mostly for show these days. He has turned onto his back, his eyes glinting in the moonlight where they are looking over at Stiles.

“Can’t,” Stiles laments, trying to catch the comforter between his arms in lieu of his dearly missed pillow. It doesn’t really work, because the comforter also has to cover Derek’s bulk and there’s little left to use. Little to none, especially when Derek snatches the comforter back from where it was probably leaving a cold gap on Derek’s other side. The sudden move has Stiles sort of falling over from where he was laying on his side. He’s more on his front now, filling up the space that was between them at first. He can feel the warmth of Derek’s body from just a few inches away. It’s actually kind of comforting.

“Try harder,” Derek commands and he closes his eyes again.

Stiles thinks of answering ‘Yes, Alpha’, but thinks better of it. It might make Derek move again, to push Stiles out of bed instead of pulling him in to have a cuddle. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, focussing his mind on the almost tangible presence of Derek’s bare shoulder mere inches away. Derek is warm and smells nice and if Stiles was a werewolf, he’s sure he’d feel even better about having his Alpha so close. Yet even though he’s not a werewolf, he still enjoys it. A lot.

He falls asleep.

He knows that, because he wakes up at some point, at an unknown hour of the night. He’s warm, so warm. And comfortable, even though his pillow is a lot firmer than he remembers it being. It also moves a little, because his pillow is Derek and the Alpha werewolf gently moves his arm in what Stiles suspects is a more comfortable position. He would panic about sleeping half on top of Derek if he were not so damn comfortable. It’s hard to keep his eyes open. Surely if Derek wouldn’t want him sleeping on him, he’d push Stiles off. Instead, Stiles feels Derek’s arm wrap around his back, accompanied by a soft sigh from the Alpha.

Stiles sleeps.

***

Derek is not the first to wake up, although he is certainly not the last. He becomes aware of the world with Stiles wrapped around his torso, his head pillowed on Derek’s chest. He’s only a little surprised by how good it feels to wake up like this and it takes a while before he brings himself to carefully move out of Stiles’ embrace. The boy mumbles a little, but doesn’t wake up. Derek watches him for a moment, standing beside his bed. He’s not sure how to feel about this, except for some embarrassment about wanting to crawl back into bed and slot himself back into Stiles’ arms.

Downstairs, most of the pack is still asleep. Isaac has his arms wrapped around Jackson’s lower legs, as if he’s cuddling a particularly bony teddy bear. Jackson is still asleep, even snoring softly. Scott snores too, curled around his girlfriend in the large armchair. In the other armchair, Boyd is watching him carefully, his arms wrapped around his sleeping girlfriend.

“Morning,” the dark man rumbles quietly, not to wake Erica.

“Morning,” Derek answers, keeping his voice down as well. “Coffee?”

Boyd inclines his head in thanks and Derek ambles on to the kitchen, where he finds Lydia, immersed in a science journal. She has a cappuccino sitting in front of her, the cup half empty. “Good morning, Derek,” she says, briefly glancing up from her reading material.

“Morning,” he repeats, busying himself with the coffee maker. He brings a cup to Boyd when he’s done and returns to join Lydia at the table. He sits back in his chair, his coffee in front of him, to catch the rays of pale sunlight that slant through the high windows. It’s quiet in the loft, with most of the people still sleeping and the ones that are awake quietly starting up their day.

He sips from his coffee, listening to the sounds of Cora waking up and going into the bathroom. She comes downstairs not long after, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt - same as her brother, her bare feet hardly making a sound. He points to the mostly full pot of coffee on the counter when she enters the kitchen and he gets a hair ruffle as thanks from his little sister. She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, enjoying the sunlight on her face just like he is.

It’s Stiles who comes down next, although Derek can hear from the way he drags his feet that he’s barely awake. Why he’s not sleeping in like he should be, is anyone’s guess. He expects Stiles to stop in the living room, to wake up Scott or maybe even Jackson if he’s feeling particularly cheeky, but he doesn’t. The footsteps pretty much make a beeline from the stairs towards the kitchen. Derek opens one eye from where he closed them against the sunrays to see Stiles shuffling towards him in his boxers and T-shirt, rubbing a hand over his face and yawning soundlessly. His hair is standing up on one side. He’s wearing socks, navy blue ones with a red line near the toes.

The werewolf opens his mouth to point his packmate towards the coffee maker, but before he can say anything, Stiles has reached his chair and slings a hairy leg over his lap. He plonks down unceremoniously and lays his head on Derek’s shoulder, arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

“You were gone,” Stiles mumbles disapprovingly, his mouth moving against Derek’s collarbone. And just like that his heartbeat evens out and he’s fast asleep again.

Derek sits frozen in his chair, his heart beating loudly inside his ribcage. If Stiles were awake he could probably feel it pound against his own chest. His hands hover uselessly on either side, not knowing whether to wrap around Stiles or pick him up and toss him to the floor.

Stiles is oblivious, his sleeping body moulding easily against Derek’s. He’s warm and pliant, just like he was when they were sleeping together in Derek’s bed.

When he chances a look at Lydia across the table, she’s already watching him steadily with a sly smile playing around the corners of her lips. “Glad to see you two finally got your heads out of your asses,” she comments eventually, before primly taking a sip from her cappuccino and going back to her reading.

Behind him, Cora snorts quietly in amusement. She comes up at his back and puts a hand in his hair again, running her fingers through the short strands. It’s grounding and Derek only notices how much he needs that when she lightly scratches her nails across his scalp.

“He’s cute like this,” his sister remarks and even though he can hear the humour in her voice, he can also hear the truth in her heartbeat. “Best not wake him up, big bro.” She runs her hand through his hair one last time and then she wanders off, leaving him to carefully wrap one arm around Stiles’ lower back.

Slowly, Derek feels himself relax. The loft is quiet and peaceful and Derek is in his own little bubble, with the sunlight on his face and Stiles in his lap. Almost automatically, he starts to rub his hand slowly up and down Stiles’ back. Aside from some sleepy snuffling, there’s no real response. Derek picks his coffee back up and slowly drinks it, tilting his face towards the sun. It’s a nice morning.

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #written by ilse #derek hale x stiles stilinski #stiles x derek #pre relationship #ilse writes fanfiction

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tiredmamaissy · 8 months

Text

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync?

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——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal.

Something animalistic.

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed.

Nights like tonight.

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight.

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it.

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?”

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently.

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him.

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around?

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all.

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face.

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you.

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.”

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago.

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice.

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out.

What? Is he — lying to you?

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips.

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.”

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease.

But the funny thing is that there was no lie.

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’.

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret.

His upcoming rut.

——

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different.

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator.

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming.

Too aggressive.

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy.

But you’re more than that to him.

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door.

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time.

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot.

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together.

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him.

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno.

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed.

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice.

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame.

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?”

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani.

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes.

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.”

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry.

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers.

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things.

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you.

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.”

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that.

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up.

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position.

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in.

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception.

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock.

Truth be told, he hated the feeling.

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth.

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle.

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now?

Once? Twice? Thrice?

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum.

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock.

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh.

Relief.

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall.

All until he hears the click of a —

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.”

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it.

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles.

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away.

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention.

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct.

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!”

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull.

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.”

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore.

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered.

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath.

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches.

What is he supposed to do now?

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking.

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt.

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good, I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t.

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release.

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.”

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat.

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do.

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you.

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even.

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word.

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]”

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only.

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility.

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving.

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.”

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—”

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say.

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive.

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it.

“Ralak.”

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed.

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo.

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock.

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual.

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position.

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now?

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt.

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door.

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air.

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal.

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue.

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges.

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again.

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next.

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin.

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak.

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent.

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it.

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail.

Fuck, you just want it inside you already.

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you.

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place.

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you.

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed.

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you.

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts.

He’s simply not there.

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance.

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure.

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you.

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!”

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide.

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity.

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks.

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee.

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief.

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it.

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child.

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him.

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!”

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you.

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck.

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers.

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up.

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts.

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again.

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip.

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.”

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you.

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it.

He’s bulging inside you.

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck.

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate.

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours.

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls.

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb.

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent.

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb.

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer.

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead.

——

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