#thread / illicit | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

makoodles · 1 year

Text

ミ tìyawn / ve’kì [nsfw]

🍓 pairing: tsu'tey x fem!human reader

🍓 word count: 12k

🍓 tags: nsfw, human/na'vi relationship, angst to fluff (kinda), jealousy, vaginal sex, tsu'tey is one seriously conflicted boy

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It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People.

They are demons, blind to the world around them and so utterly destructive in their natures. His planet, his home, has seen nothing but chaos and hardship ever since they have arrived.

They are small and weak, yet vicious and harmful in just about every way. He has not known true peace since their arrival.

The sky demons have no redeeming qualities. Or at least, almost no redeeming qualities.

“Fuck! Oh, god-”

“Be quiet.” Tsu’tey grunts, gripping the woven cushions that you’re bent over so hard that the skin goes taut and bloodless over his knuckles.

Honestly though, it seems as though this is your attempt at staying quiet – your eyes are squeezed shut tight and your little blunt teeth are digging into your lower lip hard. Your face is all screwed up, your breaths coming in little panting gasps as he ruts into you.

“Are you not embarrassed? So loud.” He mumbles, though his tone doesn’t match his words at all.

He really can’t manage to stir up the usual feelings of disgust he has for sky demons, not when he can see the way your little toes are curling everytime he fucks into you.

“Fuck off.” You say, but your voice is all weak and trembling.

The sound of it only intensifies that heat building in his lower belly. You’re so small underneath him, your pussy stretched to its limit and dripping all over the thick length of him. Despite the size difference, you’re taking it so easily.

It’s far from the first time that he’s had you like this, on your hands and knees beneath him as you take him so well, but he still gets such a thrill out of it. He enjoys your pathetic little noises, the whimpers and moans and mewls as you wiggle and squirm beneath him, trying to get him to hit just right.

You make a sort of little mewling noise, muffled by the floor as you turn your face into the woven reed flooring beneath you, and then he feels you tighten up like a damn vice around his cock, your cunt fluttering as you come again.

“Another one,” He notes, not bothering to hide his amusement. “Greedy.”

When he comes into you, it’s with a soft, satisfied little grunt. He has done this many times already, yet the pleasure always surprises him. He’s never felt anything as tight as you, so good that it borders on painful, and the element of illicitness only adds an additional little thrill to the whole thing.

You’re still making soft, muffled little sounds as his hips rock lazily, riding out the last tingling aftershocks of his own orgasm. He enjoys those little noises immensely, and he makes a rumbly sound of satisfaction as he plasters himself over the top of you and allows his weight to press you down into the floor entirely.

“Ow, fuck-” You mumble into the floor. “You’re fucking heavy, asshole, getoffme-”

“Quiet.” Tsu’tey mumbles, his eyes sliding shut as he attempts to enjoy the pleasant tingling feeling in his fingers and toes following his release. “You are always talking, mouth never closed.”

“You didn’t mind my mouth being open earlier.” You shoot back, attempting to throw a pitiful little glare over your shoulder.

He thinks of your mouth earlier, wide open and hot and wet as you worked your tongue over him, and smirks.

“Okay, seriously.” You grumble, a little louder this time. You reach around and shove irritably at his chest. “Get off, dickhead. Did you tear your stitches? I told you to be careful-”

Tsu’tey just grunts and rolls off you, landing on his back and stretching his spine out with a sigh. No sooner has he started to relax than you’ve sat up to peer closely at the healing wounds along his chest and stomach.

“Do not touch.” He snaps, baring his teeth at you when you prod at the ridiculous little sutures that you had insisted on threading into him weeks ago.

“You’ve been touching me for the last forty minutes.” You grumble, but you take your hands back all the same.

Tsu’tey doesn’t bother responding to that. He’s feeling pleasantly loose and relaxed, and he’s trying to enjoy that feeling for as long as possible before the weight of all his responsibilities come rushing back in.

Though you’re not touching him, he can feel your eyes on him as you examine his injuries, making sure none of them have torn open during your activities. Your concern pricks at his pride, and he grumbles lowly as you peer closer at him.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bust these,” You say.

“You would just redo them anyway.” He grunts without opening his eyes.

There’s a pause. Then you sigh.

“Yeah.” You murmur, so quiet he almost doesn’t hear. “I guess I would.”

This little… arrangement with you had started nearly two months ago. He can’t even fully remember how it had happened – you were some kind of healer, and had stayed around after the battle to help the wounded. Initially, he refused your help. He would have rather suffered the pain of his wounds than feel your little demon hands on him, but you had been practically forced upon him by Jakesully.

For the first week or so, it had been nothing but sniping back and forth with each other. At some point, his insults and your challenges had evolved into heated exchanges that ended up like this, with you on your hands and knees or on your back for him as you both search for pleasure out of each other's bodies.

After the great battle with the Sky People, most of them have been forced off the planet. The ones left are loyal to the Na’vi, or so Jakesully says. Tsu’tey is not convinced; they do not belong here, and he does not like them. Their presence aggravates him; he is still healing from the near-fatal wounds he had sustained during the battle, and he does not like having enemies around while he feels so vulnerable.

You are not an exception to this; your presence aggravates him in a way he does not know how to describe. He is not blind or ignorant enough to claim that you are not attractive, in your own demon sort of way, but that reluctant sort of attraction only infuriates him further. He thinks something may have broken inside him after his fall from the sky during the great battle, but he refuses to think too much about it.

It’s just a way of working out his frustration and you clearly enjoy these encounters. It’s not worth putting too much thought into.

Life slowly returns to normal after the majority of the Sky People leave. For weeks, the Omaticaya rebuild their home. The loss of Hometree was devastating, and the efforts to rebuild is both physically and emotionally taxing for the People.

Tsu’tey does his best to pull his weight when it comes to helping out with the construction of their new encampment, but it is made difficult by the fact that you follow him around like a pest.

“I said no heavy lifting-”

“Go away, demon.” Tsu’tey grumbles, irritated by your presence.

“Doctor’s orders.” You’ve tilted your chin up, as stubbornly obstinate as ever. “Put that down.”

“Go away.” Tsu’tey repeats, but this time he reaches out and shoves at your head. It’s not a particularly rough gesture (he doesn’t actually want to hurt you), but it’s just enough to push you off balance.

You stagger a little, but keep on following him. He doesn’t bother trying to hide his irritation – the basket he is carrying is full of building materials, but it is not particularly heavy. He resents the fact that a creature as pathetically fragile as yourself would question his strength.

And even more than that, he resents the fact that his wounds are admittedly paining him a little.

“I’m the one who’s gonna have to stitch you back up if you burst those-”

“I did not ask for your demon medicine.” Tsu’tey bares his fangs at you, growing genuinely aggravated. “I do not want it. Go and bother someone else.”

“But-”

Someone calls Tsu’tey’s name from further into the village, and he pulls his attention away from you to look towards the call. At his hip, you cross your arms and grumble as though you’re unhappy that his attention is not solely on you. You are a greedy thing, just like the rest of your people – always looking for more.

The one who has called him is Saeyla, and he has to suppress a sigh at the sight of her. She was his student once, and a talented one. She always did have much potential, but things have been very awkward between them since she had offered herself to him as a mate at the Tree of Souls. He had been harsh when he had rebuffed her, but perhaps not harsh enough if she is calling to him once more.

It is typical that she has appeared in his path while you are hovering at his hip. A Na’vi woman that he rejected, and a human woman that he frequently chooses to be intimate with. It sounds like a bad joke.

“Saeyla.” He greets, hoping that he does not sound as tired as he feels. “What do you want?”

Despite the fact that she had called out to him, Saeyla is not actually looking at him. Her eyes are fixed on you, her brow puckered in visible distaste. There is no way for Saeyla to know of the little illicit sexual relationship between you two, and yet Tsu’tey feels his shoulders tense. He does not like to think of how she would react if she were to find out.

“Go away.” Saeyla speaks, but it’s not directed at him. She bares her teeth and hisses at you, and Tsu’tey bristles despite himself.

You actually take a step back, no doubt cowed by the venom in Saeyla’s tone, but Tsu’tey grabs the back of your neck and holds you in place by his hip. The audacity of his old student irks him, and he narrows his eyes and lets his lip curl as he looks at her.

“You do not give orders.” He says sharply to Saeyla. “I have business with the demon.”

You’ve gone uncharacteristically silent by his side, and he just barely resists the urge to glance down at you. Where is all that annoying fire gone? Usually he can’t get you to shut up at all.

Saeyla is still glaring, but at least now she’s looking at Tsu’tey. “Why is she following you?”

He doesn’t have a good answer to that, so he just glares back at her. He dislikes her tone, and he is not used to being questioned.

“What do you want?” He repeats himself, an unmistakable edge creeping into his voice.

There’s a pause, and then Saeyla purses her lips and throws her hair over her shoulder. Her kuru is drawn over her chest, long and glossy – her movements are calculated to draw attention to it, in a move that is unmistakably flirtatious.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten against his head at her boldness, uncertain what to make of this.

“I wish to speak to you.” She says, before cutting a glance towards you at his side. “Without the demon present.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey says nothing. He stands there, tail swishing uneasily, as he considers the situation. This is admittedly more uncomfortable than it should be. He had rejected Saeyla’s mating proposal harshly, and now he feels as though he has been cornered by her yet again.

Even worse, you stand at his side to remind him that he has apparently turned down the company of a fine, respectable Na’vi woman to rut with a human.

With a sigh he removes his hand from the back of your neck and instead pushes at your shoulder. “Go. Leave us.”

You pause, dithering a little, before relenting and stepping back. He does not glance down at you as you retreat, but rather keeps his eyes fixed on Saeyla, who is watching you as though she’s about to start hunting you.

Once you have retreated beyond earshot, Saeyla speaks up. “Ma’Tsu’tey. I was wondering if you have reconsidered my proposal.”

Once, Tsu’tey may have attempted to keep a neutral expression and to meet her bold requests with patience. But since the battle, since his injury, since he had started fucking you, he feels like a raw nerve, pulsing and peeled open and exposed. He feels as though he’s lost some of his control, some of the safe rigidity that had ruled his life up to now.

“I have not.” He says bluntly.

But just like always, Saeyla does not know when to stop pushing.

“I understand that you are not ready to take a mate.” She says, stepping closer to him even as he stands stiff and still. “But the battle is over, and the People are rebuilding. I am happy to be… if not a mate, then a lover-”

His eyes flare wide, surprised by her brazenness.

“Saeyla,” He bites out. “You overstep.”

“It is an offer.” She says simply, bowing her head in what would have been a gesture of deferment if not for the way she is stubbornly maintaining eye contact with him. “Just an offer.”

Tsu’tey’s upper lip lifts up in a snarl, baring his sharp upper teeth. “I do not enjoy repeating myself.”

As always, Saeyla is unapologetic. She keeps staring up at him in a way that she likely believes is seductive, but is really just uncomfortably intense.

“Consider it.” She entreats him, finally stepping back. “You are lonely, I know it. I wish to share the burden with you.”

His jaw clenches, his shoulders straightening and going rigid. He probably should consider her offer. She is a woman of the People, a warrior-hunter who has completed her iknimaya, and she is not unattractive. And yet, his entire being rejects the idea of taking her as a mate. It feels wrong in a way that he does not understand.

Without another word, Tsu’tey turns from her and marches away.

He feels restless and discomfited, his tail swishing low around his legs in annoyance as he storms back through the village. Some of the People call out greetings to him as he passes, but he is too preoccupied to reply.

“Tsu’tey,” Jakesully calls when he passes by him, “Brother, I thought you weren’t cleared for heavy lifting yet-”

“What?” Tsu’tey snaps, turning with a scowl.

Jakesully pauses, his eyebrows creeping up at Tsu’tey’s overly aggressive tone of voice. Chagrined, Tsu’tey takes a moment to breathe, forcing himself to calm down. He is being unreasonable.

“I thought our resident little nurse had ordered you not to be doing any heavy lifting.” Jakesully says slowly. “You’re bleeding a little there.”

Tsu’tey follows Jake’s pointing finger to his chest, and sees that one of the neat little stitches around one of his wounds has torn open a little bit.

“Ah,” Tsu’tey’s brow contorts in frustration. “She will be a pain about this.”

Jakesully reaches out and takes the large basket from him, still watching his face carefully. “Yeah, well, we’re lucky to have her. Most of the medical personnel went back to Earth.”

“All of the demons should have gone back.” Tsu’tey says, but he’s somewhat distracted. He’s basically just repeating old arguments, his attention preoccupied with the blood that’s trickling over his chest from where your careful stitches had torn at the skin.

Jakesully gives him a look of intense disapproval, but Tsu’tey does not quail beneath it. It is a disagreement that the two of them have had several times. Tsu’tey believes that Jake is blinded by his past as a tawtute, and that he is unfairly biased in their favour, and Jake believes that Tsu’tey is allowing his prejudice to blind him when it comes to forming alliances and friendships with the sky demons that remain here.

“What crawled up your ass today?” Jake demands, brow furrowed.

Tsu’tey nearly chokes. “I- what? Nothing is up my-”

“Why are you even grouchier than normal?” Jake interrupts his protests, still frowning. “I thought you were getting along better with her.”

“No.” Tsu’tey denies instantly, his ears pinning back defensively. “I do not like her.”

Jake’s eyes narrow, visibly unconvinced. “Right. Well, Jesus, if you’re so against having her help, go to one of the Omaticaya healers.”

It’s not an unreasonable suggestion, but Jakesully has no way of knowing that Tsu’tey goes to you for reasons other than simple medical help. There is no simple way of describing the strange sexual relationship he has with you now, not without admitting a level of vulnerability that he is uncomfortable with. His attraction to you is a shameful thing that he would prefer to indulge in without having to analyse at all.

He just grunts, brow furrowed, and doesn’t answer.

“Whatever.” Jakesully blows out a frustrated breath, clearly done with both Tsu’tey and the conversation. “Do what you want. But don’t be so damn hard on her, yeah?”

Tsu’tey just scowls at him, before turning on his heel and storming purposefully back into the village. Why is it that everyone thinks they know what he wants better than he himself does today?

Predictably, he finds you in the little outpost that has been built to house the demons that have chosen to stay close to the village.

He has to loop one of those horrible little masks around his neck when he ducks inside, taking the odd puff of air every five minutes or so as he lopes into the outpost. The ceilings are high, made to accommodate the demon avatar bodies that some of the scientists have, but he still feels claustrophobic in the confined space.

The outpost itself is quiet at this time of day – the sky demons keep busy, often attempting to offer help in the village or just wandering the forests with their stupid technology as they research.

He finds you in your usual workspace near the back, fiddling with one of the glowing pad things that the demons usually use. You don’t look up as he approaches, even though he’s sure that you hear him. You appear absorbed in your work, except when he gets close he can see that you’re just staring at the pad without actually doing anything.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not raising your head. “I thought you were busy.”

Tsu’tey hums, poking at one of the strange machines that line the little room you’ve been working in. All this demon technology makes him uneasy, and his ears stay pinned against the side of his head as he hovers behind you.

“These stitches have broken.” He says, reaching up to scratch at where some of the blood has begun to dry.

That finally makes you turn, though your expression is all crumpled up into a frown as you step forward to peer at his chest. Ridiculously, he feels a little guilty. You had told him to be careful so many times, after all, and now he has made more work for you. But then he pushes those little feelings of guilt down deep – he was not going to be a burden on the clan by not helping out when he should, no matter how much you begged him to be still and useless as he healed.

To his surprise, you don’t scold him. You just purse your lips and gesture to the small flat bed that you use for his medical check-ups, and he sits without complaint. He is familiar with this routine by now, but his tail curls uncomfortably as you remain silent – you haven’t even said I told you so.

You place your small hands on his chest as you lean in to inspect the wound that cuts across his left pectoral muscle, right where the stitches at the top of the cut have torn. Your expression makes it very clear that you are unhappy with what you see, and yet you still remain quiet.

Tsu’tey allows the silence to stretch as you wash your hands and gather your medical supplies, threading a small needle as you prepare to redo his suturing. Even when you actually begin to fix his stitches, the needle pricking at his skin uncomfortably, he waits for you to speak first.

It becomes clear very quickly that you’re content to do his stitches in silence. Unusual. You should have been scolding him by now, insulting him as you usually do. Then he would be able to insult you right back, and you would respond with a challenge, and then eventually the two of you would wind up in a sweating, moaning heap, as usual.

But you stay silent, your tiny hands gentle as you painstakingly work on his wounds.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, on edge. “You are quiet today.”

You just hum, without making any real effort to answer at all. It only makes his agitation worse. Why are you acting so strange?

When you finally finish up with his stitches, you step back and move to wash your hands, still not saying a thing. He watches you carefully, brow furrowed.

You’re wearing a small white top, but you seem to have gone without your usual breast covering – a bra, you’ve called it before. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but now that he’s looking at you he can see the way your nipples press against the thin cotton material. Despite the oddness in your demeanour, Tsu’tey can feel himself growing aroused.

Perhaps he’s been conditioned to expect pleasure from these little encounters with you, because he’s growing hard beneath his tewng. He reaches for you, his tail swishing slowly as his hand trails over your waist.

You finally look up at him, but you neatly sidestep his hand. Surprised, Tsu’tey’s ears twitch back and flatten. You’ve never avoided his touch before – if anything, you’ve always been deliciously eager for him.

“What did Saeyla want?” You ask, turning away from him to dispose of the used needle and bloody wipes.

He blinks. He’s a little taken aback by the question, so it doesn’t occur to him to lie.

“She wished to offer herself to me as a mate.” He says. “And when I denied her, she offered herself as a lover.”

A muscle in your jaw pulses, and you flick your hair back before throwing him a look over your shoulder. “And what did you say?”

He frowns. Your manner is confusing him. Are you angry at him for tearing the stitches? You have always told him that you would stitch him back up again, so he had not thought you would be mad.

He reaches out again, and again you step away. He scowls, frustrated.

“Am I not allowed to touch you?”

“What did you say to her? What was your answer?” You repeat, taking another step back as you squint at his face.

He blows out a breath, irritated. “It is not your business.”

“Not my business?” You repeat, sounding faintly disbelieving. “Not my business?”

Your eyebrows are raised and your eyes are narrowed, your mouth pressed into a firm line. Tsu’tey is not very good at reading the expressions of Sky People, but even he can tell that he’s treading a dangerous line here. You seem angry, though he can’t understand why.

“My mating prospects are a concern for the People, and the People alone.” Tsu’tey says, leaning forward to scowl at you. “It is not the business of tawtute.”

You scoff, folding your arms tight across your chest. “You seemed to enjoy making your mating prospects my business when you were fucking me after every damn check-up.”

“That was not mating.” Tsu’tey snaps. “That was…” He thinks of a phrase he has heard Jakesully use before, a human idiom that you will surely understand. “That was blowing off steam.”

You take a sharp breath. If you looked angry before, now you look furious.

“Blowing off steam?” You repeat, your voice trembling with righteous anger. “Are you fucking joking? I mean- I know that you don’t like humans, but I thought- I thought that you-”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes, and he pushes himself up off the bed. He does not like this; you are unexpectedly angry, and he does not know what to do with the brunt of your frustration. He has argued with you before, small and petty disagreements as you snipe at each other, and it has always been resolved with you face-down and ass-up as he pounds his way into you. This argument feels different. He doubts there will be such a pleasurable end to this one.

“Do you even-” You start, your face all screwed up. “Do you even like me?”

What a loaded question. He doesn’t even know how to begin answering that – he just stares at you like a total skxawng, his brows furrowed and eyes flared wide in bewilderment. The two of you have never spoken about what it is you’re doing together, or about how either of you feel about it. If anything, Tsu’tey has been trying his damn hardest not to think about things.

“You-” He starts, floundering a little and trying to hide it. He hates appearing uncertain or vulnerable in any way. “You are… a good healer. And you are… attractive.”

You are more than attractive, really. You are so small and delicate, squishy and soft, and you heal rather than destroy like the rest of your kin. He likes that you are so concerned about him, that you care so much for his healing. Your weakness is also something that is distinctly… thrilling to him. He likes that he feels as though he can protect you, he likes that he feels so strong around you. When you’re not actively tending to his wounds, he’ll admit that his eyes trail after you more often than they should.

He doesn’t say any of that out loud. “But you are still a tawtute.”

“So it’s fine to fuck me, but nothing else, is that it?” You demand, glaring at him. “Jesus, why have you even been wasting your time with me?”

His ears pin back, confused. He had thought that you were both on the same wavelength when it came to where you stood with each other. It had never felt like a waste of time to him.

Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. Everyone knows that. You were the most bearable of all of them, and he will admit that you are enticing with the soft plushness of your body and your sweet little face, but you are still a sky demon. His attraction to you is a shame that he wrestles with constantly, only quieting when he is with you properly.

You’re breathing heavily, your chest heaving as you try to regulate yourself. “You know what? Fuck off. Go ahead and fuck Saeyla, or one of many other Na’vi women that are clearly into you. There’s no fucking reason for you to be wasting both of our time like this.”

When he doesn’t move, you bare your teeth and reach up to shove at his stomach as hard as you can. You are one of the weakest little creatures he’s ever come across, so there’s no chance of you actually managing to shift him – still though, he takes a step back as you shove at him again.

“Get out! Go away!”

Tsu’tey growls warningly, and grabs at your small hands with one of his before tugging your arms to the side so that you can’t shove at him anymore.

“Calm down.” He warns, frowning at you. “You are overreacting-”

“Oh, you asshole!” You yell, visibly furious. “Don’t tell me I’m overreacting! Just go – go find Saeyla and tell her that you accept, and don’t come around here anymore!”

Tsu’tey rumbles a growl, his lip curling at you. How do you have the audacity to tell him not to come around somewhere on his own planet when you are the interloper here?

“You do not tell me what to do-” He begins, but you’re not even listening to him.

“Go!” You shout, and this time he does as you say.

He beats a retreat out of the outpost, his tail lashing in agitation as he storms out. He doesn’t look back once, and you don’t follow after him.

For the next couple of days, Tsu’tey stews.

It is his nature to brood over things anyway, but even he can recognise that he’s particularly moody in the days following his disagreement with you. He skulks around the village and tries to help where he can, but Jakesully banishes him from the heavy-lifting. That means that Tsu’tey has even more time to sulk to himself, replaying the argument in his head and trying to figure out what the fuck had happened.

Strangely enough, he does not see you around the village at all. Not even a glimpse in the distance. It makes him uneasy.

Before the incident with Saeyla, you used to follow him around constantly, badgering him about being careful and minding his stitches. It had been irritating, but now that you’ve seemingly disappeared he finds himself hyper-conscious of your absence.

Eventually, he finds himself outside the demon outpost once more. He can’t quite believe that he’s here of his own free will, but he tells himself that it’s just because he needs his stitches checked. They look fine, but it’s better to just make sure.

But when he shoves his way inside, he’s unnerved to find that you aren’t here either. There are several tawtute around the outpost, and they look both startled and bewildered to see him here. He pays no attention to them, searching the place for any sign of you.

There’s another Sky Person in your usual work space, a male, and he looks absolutely terrified when Tsu’tey approaches.

“Oh,” The demon says, straightening up. “I- hello. Do you- you’re here for a check up?”

Tsu’tey’s lips peel back in a sneer, a harsh snarl rumbling in his chest. The tawtute shrinks back, horrified.

“Where is she?” He demands, looking around as though you might emerge from behind one of their strange machines at any moment.

The demon swallows thickly. At least he doesn’t insult Tsu’tey by pretending that he does not know who he’s talking about.

“Um… she’s not around right now.” His voice is trembling slightly, but he still gets his point across. “She said that if you came in about those stitches, that, um… well, she said to tell you that you should go to a Na’vi healer.”

Tsu’tey’s nostrils flare, and the tawtute flinches. “I want to speak to her.”

The man just shrugs, all jerky and stiff. “She’s not here, man. Sorry.”

It takes days before Tsu’tey sees you again.

He is starting to grow genuinely frustrated with your absence, and in some sense worried too, though he didn’t want to admit it. So when you finally reappear, Tsu’tey is honestly relieved.

That sense of relief doesn’t last for very long, because the next time he sees you, you aren’t alone.

Tsu’tey knows that you are a healer, of course. He knows that you must surely attend to other people. But ever since he was injured in the great battle, the only person that he’s seen you focus on is him.

Maybe that’s why it’s such a shock to finally catch sight of you tucked away in a corner of the village with your head bent over the arm of Artuk, a recently blooded male of the Omaticaya. He was a student of Tsu’tey himself, and only completed his iknimaya trials a few weeks ago.

As a young hunter, he is free to choose a mate for himself. It is utterly galling to see the way that his tail coils so close to your thigh as you inspect the cut on his arm, gently cleaning it of blood.

Artuk’s ears rotate forward as you speak to him, his eyes half-lidded as he listens closely to whatever it is that you’re saying. He looks too interested, and Tsu’tey feels his own ears pin back defensively at the sight before him.

Perhaps he is reading too much into this. You are a healer. You are healing. Artuk is probably not looking at you in that way at all – surely Tsu’tey is the only one with that specific illness that makes him feel attracted to the sky demons that tried to destroy his home. Or at least, one particular sky demon.

Still though, he ends up hovering nearby and trying to look busy as he steals glances over to where you’re standing next to Artuk. The young hunter’s arm has been carefully bandaged up by your gentle hands, but Tsu’tey notices that you’re still holding onto his arm anyway.

When you laugh at something he says, Tsu’tey’s ears flick even lower. Art’uk has never been particularly funny, so what are you laughing at?

Artuk starts to grin, looking disgustingly pleased with himself. Then, to Tsu’tey’s horror, he starts to shuffle closer to you.

And you just stand there, not making any move to edge away. If anything, you look flattered by the attention. As Tsu’tey watches, your smile turns faintly shy and you reach up to tuck some of your hair behind your ear.

You look so pretty from here, even if you are too small and weak and odd-looking. The fact that your smile is directed at Artuk is disgraceful, and it causes Tsu’tey’s teeth to gnash.

The last straw comes when Artuk’s tail moves low and begins to coil around your ankle. There is no mistaking what a move like that means, and Tsu’tey grimaces in pure shock. Art’uk is flirting with you. His intentions are unmistakable.

What the fuck? Artuk setting his sights on a sky demon is one thing, but setting his sights on you? That is something that Tsu’tey could never have predicted.

He’s moving before he even realises it. There is no plan, he’s not even thinking, and before he knows it he ends up standing in front of you and Artuk with a scowl so forceful that it’s nearly giving him a headache.

Artuk startles, his eyes blowing wide as he attempts to sit up straight. “Ma’Tsutey! I did not see you!”

Tsu’tey just glowers. The youngling is hardly even a man yet, and yet his tail is still coiled around your ankle in some pathetic attempt at asserting ownership. Where did he get the audacity? And you! You were letting him!

“What happened?” Tsu’tey asks, and his voice comes out rough with irritation. He nods pointedly towards Artuk, where his arm has been so carefully wrapped by your skilled hands.

“Oh,” Artuk’s ears twitch, a sign of embarrassment. “An accident with construction. A beam slipped and cut me.”

“A foolish mistake.” Tsu’tey snaps disdainfully.

You speak up for the first time, but you don’t look at Tsu’tey at all. Your gaze is still focused on Artuk’s arm, despite the fact that it’s already been wrapped.

“Accidents happen.” You say, before sending Artuk a sympathetic little smile. “Does it still hurt?”

“A little.” He says, and Tsu’tey snorts in contempt.

What kind of warrior snivels over such a small injury?

“Oh,” You coo sympathetically, and stroke a thumb just beneath his bandages. “Poor thing. Well, it’s clean now, so you shouldn’t be at risk of infection-”

Artuk is nodding, but Tsu’tey knows that he isn’t really listening. He’s too busy staring at your face, his eyes lingering around your strange little blunt teeth and your odd nose. Tsu’tey understands the appeal – he has studied your foreign features enough to be rather intimately familiar with them – but he finds himself resentful of Artuk’s interest. Innocent fascination would be one thing, but he can see by Artuk’s body language that his interest in you is not innocent.

“Thank you for your help.” Artuk says so earnestly that it sets Tsu’tey’s teeth on edge. “You have very gentle hands.”

Tsu’tey rolls his eyes violently, but you seem flattered by that little comment. You look down, all flustered, and smile up at Artuk from beneath your eyelashes. It’s a look that would have had Tsu’tey’s kuru tingling and his cock stiffening, if only it had been directed at him and not Artuk.

“Alright,” Tsu’tey finally says, his voice much louder than entirely necessary. “Go away, Artuk. I must speak with the tawtute.”

Your head snaps around, and you glower at him so intensely that it almost physically burns. Tsu’tey doesn’t care – it doesn’t matter that you’re glaring at him so long as he has your attention on him and not Artuk.

“I can’t imagine what you think we have to talk about.” You say sharply, sticking your nose up at him.

You’re such a prissy little thing. He has no idea why he likes it so much – he doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed that in a woman before.

“I think we have lots to talk about, little thing.” He rumbles, and watches the way your lips purse.

He is not blind. He sees the way your eyes dart over the muscles of his chest and down over his waist and hips, before quickly darting away towards safer territory. Unfortunately, it seems as though you’ve decided that safer territory means towards Artuk.

Tsu’tey bristles, frustrated that your attention keeps straying. He’s never had an issue keeping your attention before. If anything, he’s always found it difficult to escape your fussing. That he is being denied your attention now is making his skin itch.

“I’ll check on this later, alright?” You say, smiling at Artuk once more before straightening your little tank top and stepping back.

Tsu’tey relaxes slightly as space grows between the two of you, though he keeps darting his gaze between you and the young hunter. Artuk’s tail coyly slips away from your ankle, though it drags painstakingly slowly across your skin as it does so. Tsu’tey just barely manages to resist the urge to grab it and tear it away from you entirely.

“Yes. Thank you again.” Artuk says, his ears lowering in supplication. “Will you have dinner in the village this evening? I will see you then?”

“I’m not sure yet.” You say, a little awkwardly. “We’ll see.”

Artuk takes that in stride, and he gives you one last smile before leaving you alone with Tsu’tey. He doesn’t even spare Tsu’tey a glance as he walks away, and Tsu’tey is struck by his boldness once more. He certainly hasn’t always been this confident; Tsu’tey remembers him as a weedy youngling who cried from frustration when he found himself unable to hit the target during training.

Now that it is just you and Tsu’tey, it seems as though you’re absolutely determined to ignore him. You drop your attention to the little medical kit that you carry around everywhere, packing away the disinfectant and the bandages that you’ve been using.

“What was that?” Tsu’tey demands, ducking his head down towards you so that he can speak to you with an illusion of privacy. “You say you will check on that small scratch of Artuk’s, and yet you have not looked at my stitches for many days now.”

“You’ve told me hundreds of times by now that you think human medicine isn’t worth shit and that you don’t want it anywhere near you-”

“You have never listened to me before.” Tsu’tey snaps back, aggravated. “Why are you listening now?”

“Tsu’tey, go away.” You grit out without looking at him. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“So you would speak to Artuk instead?” He asks, frowning as he shuffles closer.

You turn and scowl up at him once more, and Tsu’tey feels something within him ease at having your attention on him again.

“Artuk actually wants to speak to me.” You say sharply. “Unlike you. Why are you here?”

“I am here because I do want to speak to you.” He points out in frustration. “You have been avoiding me.”

“Yes, obviously.” You sling your little pack of supplies over your shoulder, clearly preparing to leave. “I can’t imagine why that would bother you. You have made your opinion on me perfectly clear-”

“Well, I obviously have not made it clear if you are avoiding me.” He reaches to stop you from leaving, but stops short of actually touching you. “Stop. I wish to talk.”

“Fine.” Your small hands are clenched into fists. “Talk then. Tell me exactly what you think of me.”

For a moment, Tsu’tey just stands there. You’re watching him expectantly, your hands on your hips, and your brows are drawn together challengingly. It’s almost comical to see a small thing like you act so defiantly, but Tsu’tey feels warmth curl in his belly at the sight. It’s sweet.

“Come back to my kelku.” He blurts. It’s not quite what he had meant to say, but the words are already out and he can’t take them back.

You scoff. “No. Jesus, all you do is think with your fucking dick-”

“Not for that.” He says hastily, ears lowering. “Just for talking.”

You're still scowling, your arms coming up to cross defensively over your chest. You don’t appear too convinced by him, but he is not willing to give up just yet.

“Let us go to the tawtute outpost instead, then.” He offers. “Just to talk. That is all.”

Slowly, so slowly, you start to relent. Your shoulders lower and your arms drop, but you keep scowling.

When Tsu’tey sees you start to give in, he seizes on it. “Ten minutes. Just ten minutes.”

He’s pleading like a moron, his dignity lying in tatters around his feet. It’s a little mortifying to have to beg a demon just for the chance to plead his case, but he stands firm anyway – he may as well commit fully, after all.

You sigh, and reach up to rub at the back of your neck. You look tired, and he feels guilt creeping into his stomach.

“Ten minutes.” You say firmly, before turning on your heel and marching away.

Tsu’tey wastes no time in following you. Usually, it is him leading the way with you following along at his heels, so for him to be following behind you like this is a novelty. He finds his eyes glued to your back as he walks after you, careful to take smaller steps so that he can stay behind you.

He lets his gaze travel down your back and over the curve of your waist and the swell of your hips. It’s not often that he gets a chance to look like this – he’s usually trying too hard to pretend that he’s not aware of you at all. Now, he allows himself to appreciate the view as your steps cause your hips to sway.

The two of you have just reached the edge of the village when there’s a call of Tsu’tey’s name.

He’s fully prepared to ignore it, but then you pause from where you’re marching ahead of him and turn your head to look back in the direction of the village.

It is Saeyla again, he knows without even looking. He sighs as he follows your lead in pausing and looking towards her.

Saeyla has taken a step towards the two of you, her eyes narrowed and resentful as her gaze falls on you.

“Go away, Saeyla,” Tsu’tey calls, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I do not have time today.”

He places his hand just in between your shoulderblades and pushes, just hard enough to get you walking again. You half-stagger, glancing from Tsu’tey to Saeyla and then back again, before lurching forward.

“Are you not going to talk to-” You sound a little sour and Tsu’tey has no doubt that you’re planning some snappy little comment, but he has no intention of letting you finish.

“No,” He interrupts, still pushing you on. “I am not going to talk to her, vrrtep.”

That seems to mollify you, and you keep taking your somewhat clumsy steps into the forest, leading the way through the trees towards the outpost. Your journey together is quiet – you are still stubbornly avoiding talking to him, and he is reluctant to push his luck by attempting to draw you into conversation.

It is a relief when the shoddy eyesore of a building looms up from the forest, and Tsu’tey speeds up without conscious thought. You let out a soft sound of complaint, but allow him to guide you into moving faster all the same.

When he follows you into the outpost building, he finds that it is far busier than the last time he was here. The sight of all the sky demons chatting and laughing and working irritates him, and he glares as he straightens up, his shoulders drawing back.

“Get out!” He delivers the order in the same harsh tone he usually uses when he is training the young hunters, and he finds it gratifying when he’s met with a frantic burst of movement.

“You are so goddamn rude.” You grit out, clearly irritated with him, but you just push further into the outpost as the other humans begin to file out.

He doesn’t particularly care for manners when it comes to interacting with tawtute, but you had looked at him so reproachfully that he hesitates to snap at them again. He just follows you towards the little medical bay you work from, looming over the scientists and glowering at them to get them moving out of the building a little quicker.

You lead him into the small medical room and as the doors whoosh shut behind him, you lean against one of the work counters and cross your arms as you watch him. Your regard is weighty for such a small creature, and he finds himself puffing up his chest and rolling his shoulders under your gaze.

“Go on then.” You say, eyes narrowing. “Explain.”

There’s a challenging bite to your voice that has his tail curling. He is getting excited, and he hopes that you don’t notice. He imagines that you will only get angrier at him, but he can’t help it – there’s something about the jagged edges of your anger that is impossibly enticing.

“I told Saeyla no,” Tsu’tey says, and watches you very carefully for your reaction. “I told her no about mating, and I told her no about taking her as a lover. Just as I have told her before.”

Your expression wobbles, but you manage to keep up the veneer of calm aloofness remarkably well. “Am I supposed to care about this?”

Tsu’tey steps towards you, and is pleased when you don’t step away from him. He ducks his head, just slightly, so that he’s closer to eye-level with you.

“Yes,” He murmurs. “I think you do care.”

Your jaw clenches, and he realises that you’re beginning to get defensive. He tilts his head in supplication, attempting to appear non-confrontational – he will need to be careful or you will grow too angry to listen to him.

“I do like you,” He says. “You asked me before. The answer is yes, I do like you.”

You sigh, then reach up to rub at your face in frustration. It is rare that he gets access to your face like this; your face always appears so impossibly distant to him, all locked behind the awful plastic bubble of your mask, and he watches with ill-disguised interest as you press your fingers into your eyelids.

“Are you only telling me this because I was talking to Artuk?” You demand, your eyes squeezing shut in frustration.

Tsu’tey shifts on his feet. He feels as though it would probably be unwise to answer that question, but he wants to be truthful with you.

“I have been thinking these few days.” He says, frowning. “But I did not like seeing him with you. He should not make advances on you like that.”

You laugh, but you most certainly do not sound amused.

“Why not?” You demand, stepping towards him. “He doesn’t mind that I’m human.”

Tsu’tey’s ears twitch, his mouth pursing. “Is today the first time he spoke with you?”

You scoff again, turning your face away from him. At first he thinks that you are so frustrated with him that you can hardly bear to look him in the eye, but then he sees that your mouth is pursed and your eyes are shifty – you are embarrassed.

“No.” You say, clearing your throat. “It isn’t.”

Tsu’tey inhales sharply. This does not please him at all.

“He’s friendly,” Your arms tighten across your chest defensively. “And he treats me like a person rather than a demon.” After that jab you pause, but then keep going as though the confession just spills out of you. “He… he’s hurt himself a couple of times over the last few weeks. He brings me fruit when he comes to get fixed up.”

That is a revelation that leaves Tsu’tey reeling. There is no reason that Artuk could not find a Na’vi healer in the clan to fix him up – and why was a hunter who had completed his iknimaya and was recognised as a man in the eyes of the People getting injured so often, anyway? And bringing you fruit? That, in conjunction with how his tail had curled so boldly around your little ankles, was undoubtedly a mating display.

And this has been going on for weeks? Tsu’tey has been fucking you for months, at least two, which means that surely Artuk has smelled his scent on you. That means that he has chosen to challenge Tsu’tey’s claim to you anyway, a fact that has Tsu’tey bristling. Not that his claim is obvious, admittedly. He should have noticed, should have done something about this.

To realise that his old student has been seeking you out like this is utterly galling. He feels a little ill at the thought of you accepting Artuk’s offering of fruit, of you smiling at him as you patch up his wounds, of you allowing Artuk to touch you.

Tsu’tey steps forward without thinking, reaching for your waist. This time, you don’t back away from him. His stomach leaps a little bit in mingled excitement and relief, and he lowers himself to his knees as both his hands cup you by the waist. It chafes at his dignity a little, to kneel before a sky demon like this, but when your eyes settle on his face he feels something in him ease.

Your eyes dart down to his hands, so large where they wrap around your torso, before darting quickly back up to his face.

“You only have ten minutes.” You remind him, raising your chin. “And you haven’t done much talking.”

Bossy, he thinks, amused despite himself. He has never been very good at talking, but he’s determined to do the best he can.

“I do not like Artuk talking to you.” He says, his fingers curling into the soft material of your clothes. “I do not like him bringing you fruit. I do not like that he is attempting to offer himself to you as a mate-”

“Oh, that isn’t what he’s doing.” You roll your eyes, but Tsu’tey ignores you.

If Artuk was brave enough to be so damn unapologetic about his desire for you, then Tsu’tey should be too. It might be shameful to desire a tawtute, but it would be even more shameful to have the tawtute he desired stolen away by another.

“I enjoy your softness, I like your small hands, I like that you care so much about the wellbeing of other people,” He starts, his tail lashing. “I like that you are small and bold. I like it when you get angry. I like the noises you make when you open up around my cock-”

You let out a noise of pure mortification, your hands jumping up to grab at his wrists where he’s holding you.

“Oh, stop!” You hiss, clearly flustered. “Where is this coming from? I thought we were just blowing off steam. If you want a lover, go to Saeyla-”

Tsu’tey cuts you off with a frustrated snarl, his fingers tightening around your little hips.

“You are angry at me for something that I have not done.” He points out, clicking his tongue. “I have rejected Saeyla, I have rejected Txisma, I have rejected Ninat. Can you not see? You are the only one I have had.”

Your forehead is all wrinkled as you frown. You seem confused, and he can’t blame you – his feelings have been confusing him, too.

“Do you-” He starts to ask, insecurity rising up in his throat like bile and gripping him tight. “Do you like me?”

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, narrowly avoiding knocking him upside the head. “You’re so stupid! “

His ears pin back and his lips press tight together, but he does not argue. He is still waiting for you to answer the question, and it seems as though you’re just working yourself up.

“Of course I fucking like you!” You snap. Tsu’tey doesn’t even have time to feel pleased about that before you continue. “Do you have any idea how humiliating all this has been? I didn’t even really care that you were being a total asshole the whole time we were hooking up because at least you were noticing me. I understood why you called me a demon, I understood why you talked all that shit about humans. I still do undertand! We’ve been awful! But I thought that maybe you were getting over it, since you were coming to find me damn near every day just to fuck. I thought that maybe you might like me-”

“I do like you.” Tsu’tey says quickly, but you actually hiss at him.

“Shut up!” You snap. “I’m not finished!”

You have no fangs, so you should be utterly unintimidating, but he finds his ears flattening as he sits back on his knees, falling silent. It probably shouldn’t be attractive, seeing you like this. He attempts to stifle his reaction the best that he can in the hopes that you won’t notice the way he is shifting.

“You’re rude, and grumpy, and sometimes talking to you is like trying to talk to a brick wall!” You continue, your little face all contorted in frustration. “You think you know best, even when you don’t, and you won’t listen to my goddamned medical advice even when it will fucking help you! And I’ve had to redo those stupid stitches of yours at least a dozen times-!”

Tsu’tey’s own brows are furrowed now. Are you confessing that you like him, or are you just going to list out all of his faults?

“And yeah, I like you anyway.” You sigh, rubbing at your face. “God knows why. Maybe it’s your nice face, or stupid sexy body.”

Ah. A compliment. Tsu’tey tosses his braids back and smiles smugly. So you do like him. Excellent.

“I am sorry that I upset you.” Tsu’tey says, his voice low in the intimate quiet of the room. “I have been… confused. But I know that I want you.”

“Like, actually want me?” You ask, one of your eyebrows cocked in challenge. “Or do you mean you just want to fuck me?”

“No, I mean-” Tsu’tey takes a breath, confused but determined. “Fully. I want you fully.”

Your expression falters, and you bite your lip hard in an effort to conceal your feelings. “Oh yeah? Even if I’m just a human? Are you willing to defend your choice to the rest of the clan?”

“Yes.” He breathes. “I… I think so.”

Your face collapses into a scowl, and he realises almost immediately that he has made a mistake.

“Well,” You say; your tone is so faux-sweet that it’s almost sickening. “Why don’t you just come back when you're certain, then?”

You reach down and knock his hands off your waist, then turn from him and begin to march towards the door. The sight of you trying to leave sends his stomach plummeting to his feet. Has he lost his chance? Is his ten minutes up? Panicked, he lunges forward and grabs at your little hands.

“Wait.”

He is still on his knees, which makes it difficult to shuffle after you, but he still manages to lightly tug you back to him. You yelp, reaching up to plant your hands against his chest in an effort to keep your balance.

“I want you,” He says urgently. “I am certain.”

You pause, your breathing coming heavier as you stare at him. He can see the whites of your eyes as you watch him in what looks like disbelief.

“What if you want to take a mate later?” You demand, eyes narrowing. “What if you decide that I’m not enough, or that you want a Na’vi mate-”

“You are it.” He interrupts, hoping that his tone conveys just how earnest he is being about this. “Demon or not, I… it is you that I want. Just you.”

He’s not expecting you to lurch towards him, your little hands reaching up to grab at his face. When you press your soft little lips to his in a kiss, his hands find purchase on your hips and he uses his grip there to haul you closer.

"Sweet little demon," He breathes against your mouth, "Please, just- let me-"

"Yes," You gasp into the kiss as you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair, desperate to make the kiss last. "Yes, alright-"

When Tsu’tey’s hands slip down your back and over the curve of your ass, it sends a visceral jolt up your spine. He lets out a soft grunt, and squeezes at the pliable flesh there as you kiss him fiercely. He doesn't know how you’re able to do this, to make every small contact feel so unbelievably good. He swears that even your chastest touches make his head swim.

The hand that he had on your ass slips around to your front, where he plucks at the waistband of your stupid leg coverings.

“Remove.” He groans out, his voice rough and gritty with arousal.

You do as he says eagerly, pawing at the button closure before shoving your pants roughly down over your thighs. You are so sweet and insistent, and you keep kissing him with unrelenting heat as you push your trousers off. He unclasps his own tewng and tosses it aside before his hands return to your body.

His hands roam over the soft material of your top, landing just over your squishy breasts. You are not wearing a bra again today, and he delights in the feeling of them in his palms through your top. You are so much smaller than him that your breasts fit neatly in his hand, and he marvels at the sight.

“Fuck,” You whimper as his thumb brushes over one of your firmed up nipples. “Oh, fuck, please.”

His fingers curl into the fabric covering your tits, and he tugs at it lightly. “Remove.”

You start to wrestle your way out of your top, and Tsu’tey feels a little thrill at how easily you are obeying him right now. As soon as your top is removed and your breasts are bare, his hands coast down over your ass. His hands squeeze lightly over the squidge there, and then he uses his grip on you to haul you up into his arms.

You squeal a little in surprise, before you dissolve into laughter as he holds you against his chest and nuzzles into the base of your throat. Tsu’tey breaks out into a wild grin at your reaction, unrestrained and thrilled – your laughter is an unspeakable relief after being on the receiving end of your ire for so long.

You’ve barely stopped kissing him once, your little hands cupping his face and keeping him firmly in place as you nip at his mouth. The wet heat of your tongue against his has his head spinning as though he had drunk too much of the fermented nectar the clan makes for celebrations.

When one of his hands slips into the flimsy cotton of your panties, he takes a sharp breath when his fingers find the slick heat between your legs. Oh, you’re so wet, all sticky and slippery as the pads of his fingers ghost over your swollen little clit.

You moan, your hips jerking, and Tsu’tey grins into the kiss, sharp teeth bared. It seems as though you want him as badly as he wants you.

His fingers press into at the same moment as he ducks his head down and bites at your throat, and you wheeze as your back arches. Your hips are chasing his hand, rutting up and trying to get him where you want him. It’s cute, and he suckles at your neck as you shiver against him.

“Tsu’tey,” You breathe, your hands winding into his hair. “Tsu’tey, please-”

He is almost unbearably hard, but he can’t bring himself to tear his hands away from you in order to take care of himself. He just grunts, and allows his thumb to roll over your clit as you gasp a tremulous little breath.

"Tsu’tey," You complain, beginning to writhe around his hand. "Will you- can you just-"

When he just chuckles at your tone you huff and reach down, grabbing a hold of the hand he’s got between your thighs and rutting your wet pussy against his fingers.

“Yes,” You breathe, your eyelids fluttering dazedly as your head tilts back. “Like that.”

Tsu’tey watches with an open mouth as you grind against his hand, sucking his fingers in deeper as you rut your clit up against his thumb. Heat flares through his nerve endings at the sight alone, and he ducks his head down and laves his tongue over one of your breasts.

You cry out, pressing closer, and he takes the hint to keep going. He suckles at your firm nipple, enjoying the way that your breath stutters as you absolutely soak the hand between your legs.

“Fuck!” You sob, but then you bite your lip hard to stifle any more sounds as he rolls his thumb insistently over your clit.

Tsu’tey breaks away from your chest, his mouth leaving a string of drool connected to the breast he had been sucking at. He frowns at the sight of you biting your lip to stay quiet.

“Let me hear you.” He says, and the gravel in his voice surprises even him.

“No,” You grumble, though you’re breathless. “You always say I’m too loud. Mouth never closed, remember?”

Damn. He curses his past self for sabotaging him like this.

“I was a skxawng. You must not listen to me.” He murmurs, kissing your breast before licking over your nipple. “I like it. Let me hear.”

The next time his thumb rolls over your clit, you let out a soft, breathless moan. The sound hits him like a punch to the gut and goes straight to his cock.

He feels a little bit feral as he takes a hold of your hips and lifts you, walking quickly to the large medical cot in the corner of the room.

The medical bed was built to withstand the weight of avatar bodies, yet when Tsu’tey lands heavily on it with you in his arms it judders unsteadily beneath him. You let out a small noise of concern, grabbing at his biceps for stability as he clambers atop you, settling between your legs and looping your thighs around his waist.

His fingers return to your cunt instantly, and his chest rumbles in a satisfied purr when your little cunt swallows them inside with ease. Your hips buck up to meet his thrusting fingers, it seems without conscious thought on your part. You’re absolutely soaking, and your pussy makes obscene, wet noises with every plunge and retreat of his fingers as you pant.

Your obvious pleasure and the feel, sound and smell of your sex ratchets up Tsu’tey’s own excitement. He finds himself rock hard just thinking about how good it’s going to feel to have your soft, slick body envelop his cock, and he moans against your breast.

“Okay,” You breathe, spreading your thighs further as he settles into the cradle between your leg. “Come on, fuck me.”

You’re such a pushy little thing. It’s taking every ounce of strength in him not to flip you onto your stomach and just pound you senseless, but he’s trying to prove himself to you here. He will make you feel good, but he will do it carefully.

“Yes, little thing,” He breathes, his cock hard and unyielding as it rubs against the folds of your sex. “Alright.”

He grips the base of his cock, grunting with the effort it takes to hold himself back. He pushes his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against you as he grinds lazily in between your thighs.

When he does finally begin to push in, he does it painfully slowly. Your brow puckers, your lower lip sucked in between your teeth as you inhale sharply and whine. He watches your reactions with avid interest, his eyes tracing over your face as he pushes into you. He thinks you look beautiful like this. You are soft and strange and small, but your features please him just as your bossy little attitude does.

“Relax, vrrtep,” He murmurs, nosing at your sweat-slick temple. “Or I will not fit.”

“Just- do it-” You’re trying to hump your hips onto his cock like a damn little brat, and it nearly makes him laugh out loud.

He knows you can take it – he’s had you before when you were less prepared, and he’s not sure why it feels so different this time.

He eases his pelvis back, and then pushes forward all at once until he’s halfway inside. You shriek, clawing at his strong shoulders, and he stills for a moment to let you adjust.

You whine, breathy and wanting, as Tsu’tey lowers his chest so that he’s pressed tight against you with your breasts all squished up against him. Like this, he can feel the frantic flutters of your heartbeat against him, and his own heart thumping rhythmically as if to mellow yours out. He purrs, chest rumbling soothingly as he slides deeper.

Your eyes are squeezed shut as you gasp, and Tsu’tey’s purring takes on an edge.

“I want you to look at me when I claim you.” He says, his lips dragging over the base of your throat.

“Stupid,” You gasp, your nails biting into his back. “As if it could be anyone else.”

"I want you to watch," He clarifies, nipping at your collarbone. "After this, your cunt will know no other than me."

“Jesus fuck-”

He hunches over you until you’re engulfed beneath him – you’re so tiny, and he’s never felt like such a mighty warrior as he does right now, with you safe and caged in by his own body.

With a grunt, he begins to rut into you properly. You fit around him like a vice, so tight that it feels as though you’re trying to actually squeeze his cock right off. The wet heat of you steals his breath away, and he moans senselessly into your throat. He feels lightheaded with pleasure, and clutches mindlessly at the soft flesh of your ass.

You scrabble at his chest, and he blinks in bewilderment as you grab at the breathing mask looped around his neck and bring it to his mouth. He takes a deep breath and some of that lightheadedness fades, but he still feels positively dizzy.

He looks down, and feels his brain practically blank at the sight of your pussy stretched taut around his cock, swollen and shining wet as he fucks into the hot cradle between your legs. You take him so well, entirely at his mercy as he lifts your ass up so that he can push into you at an angle, your legs locking tight around his narrow hips.

You reach up and fist his braids in your hand, and he snarls like a beast. Has this always felt so good? Or does his body recognise that his mind has finally opened up, accepting you as a potential mate?

His strokes steadily became long and powerful, angled just the way that you usually like. You reach above your head and clasp the steel bars of the medical bed to hold yourself steady, and Tsu’tey’s eyes drop eagerly to your chest as your breasts bounce.

“Lovely,” He mutters drunkenly, bowing his head to suck a bruise into the top of your breast. “Yuey, ma’tawtute.”

The noises that you’re making have his head spinning. How could he have ever shushed you? He was a bigger fool than he can even fully comprehend.

He grips your ass and pulls you up closer, your thighs squeezing tight around his hips. You whine, then choke, then go silent as he strokes into you as fiercely as he dares without hurting you.

“Do not go quiet on me now, mate.” He croons, one hand pawing between your legs in search of the swollen bead of your clit. “Let me hear you.”

He isn’t going to last long in the agonisingly tight heat of you, but it’s so terribly important that you come first. It is a matter of pride, of dignity, of his honour as a man – he needs you to know that it is a priority for him to please you.

“Oh, fuck.” You practically wail it, the word all drawn out and slightly slurred as your head tosses back. “Keep- keep touching me like that, please!”

Tsu’tey does as you ask, his fingers rolling insistently against your clit, so soft and swollen from your arousal. Your back arches and your cunt clamps down on him, and he damn near blacks out from the sheer overload of sensation.

“Oh, yes,” You pant, eyes wide and mouth open. “Tsu’tey, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna-”

“Yes,” He says eagerly, a purr ripping through his chest. “Yes, let me see your pleasure. Give it to me.”

It seems to wash over you like a wave, your eyes rolling back as your head tips against the bed, your fingers scrabbling across his back. Your walls tighten around his cock in pulsing waves, and you let out a soft keening that sounds like a garbled version of his name.

You’re a mess, all sweaty hair and glowing skin and limp limbs as your orgasm rocks through you. You look beautiful, and Tsu’tey doesn’t allow himself to blink the entire time you’re coming.

Your climax marks the end of Tsu’tey’s control, and he lets himself go. His head drops to your shoulder and then he’s running on pure instinct and biting. His teeth are sharp and pierce your soft skin easily, without the need for any real force. He drives into you, breathing heavily, grunting as he thrusts harder and faster, letting the world fall away until he’s aware of nothing else but the singular sensation of fucking you, of knowing you’re his, of keeping you safe, only you, his and his alone.

With that thought, he comes suddenly – harder and faster than he’d intended – and the shock of it ripples down his spine like an electric current, sparking in his blood and seeping into his veins. He moans around your shoulder as he spends himself inside of you, feeling his release fill you and overflow, dripping out of the tight space already stuffed so full.

For a long moment, the only sound in your little cramped office is the sound of the two of you panting for breath. It doesn’t occur to Tsu’tey to breathe from the mask again until you start fumbling for it, but he releases your shoulder from his mouth and takes a deep inhale when you press it to his face. His tail waves lazily at the gesture – you’re such a caring little thing.

Just like all of the previous sexual dalliances between the two of you, Tsu’tey goes entirely boneless after his orgasm. He doesn’t even bother to pull out of you, just enjoying the feeling of intimacy as he goes lax over you, ensuring that his body weight is rolled slightly to the side so that he doesn’t crush you.

“Okay?” He manages to ask, still feeling a little as though his brain has been liquefied.

You pant out a breathless laugh. “Oh yeah. I’m so okay.”

Tsu’tey hums as he nuzzles your jaw, the side of your neck. When you raise your hand and run them through the braids at his scalp, his eyes flutter shut instantly. Your small fingers scratch lightly at his scalp, and he lets out a purr so loud it nearly shocks him. How could Saeyla have ever thought she could compare with this? It feels so right, and he curls himself around you with another quiet purr thrumming in his chest.

You let out a soft noise, and Tsu’tey raises his head so that he can look at the bite mark he’s left on your shoulder. It’s bleeding lightly and sluggishly, and he runs a thumb lazily over the indentation of his teeth, smearing some of the blood over your skin. The sight of his mark on you, his claim on you, has his spent cock pulsing tiredly inside of you.

“Are you hurt, small one?” He wonders. He can’t quite drum up any guilt over marking you this way, but that doesn’t mean that he wants you to feel pain.

You just scoff, your head tilted back towards the ceiling as you breathe. “It stings, but it’s fine. You’re a real asshole, you know that? What the fuck was that? You’ve never bitten me before!”

“Of course not,” Tsu’tey mumbles, laving his tongue over his own teeth marks on your shoulder. “I have not claimed you properly before. It was important to fix that.”

You exhale at that, a breathy little laugh. “Oh, claiming, huh? Why didn’t you tell me? Next time, I’ll give you a big nasty bite too.”

Tsu’tey’s tail curls, his ears twitching in excitement. Do you mean that? You wish to claim him too, in the way of his People? How would it feel to sport your mark on him, made by your blunt little teeth? He would wear it with pride, he thinks. He can imagine your smug little face at the sight of Saeyla noticing, and he barely stifles a quiet snigger in your hair.

“Next time, tìyawn.” He promises you, hardly able to contain his own excitement at the idea.

You just yawn, blissfully unaware of the way that his thoughts are racing, and turn your face into his chest. “I feel like I want to sleep for a hundred years.”

Tsu’tey chuckles, his hands drifting low over your back. His fingers pet absently over the base of your spine, fascinated by the lack of tail there.

“You must sleep later, vrrtep.” He murmurs, before nipping lightly at your other shoulder that doesn’t have his bite. “Come. Let us go and get food.”

That catches your attention, and you squint up at him through disbelieving eyes.

“Now?”

“Yes.” Tsu’tey says simply, his tail lashing. “Artuk is waiting to see you there.”

He nuzzles into his mating bite on your shoulder, and feels you sigh under him. There is no possibility of you misunderstanding what he means, what he wants Artuk to see.

“You’re such an asshole.” You say yet again, but this time Tsu’tey’s ears twitch at the unmistakable fondness in your voice. “A possessive asshole, apparently.”

He doesn’t bother trying to deny that. He is a possessive man, and always has been. There are very few things in life that he has to call his own, and he is fiercely protective of them. Now, that stretches to include you.

It’s no secret that Tsu’tey hates the Sky People. But he’s willing to admit that you just might be an exception to that.

#tsu'tey #tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey fic #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #avatar 2 #na'vi x reader #na'vi x human #terato #alien x human #avatar 2009 #awow

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vivvangel · 1 month

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a million little times | yang jungwon.

viv's note 💌: not proof read. love u all.

synopsis: he doesn't love you, what's so hard about understanding that? he doesn't love you. but for him, you'd break yourself a million little times, did he want that? no. did he want you? also, no?. › pairings & contents: situationship!jungwon x afab!reader, angst ✧ warnings: love bombing, situatioship breakup, blurred lines in a relationship, trauma, one sided love, commitment issues. ━━━━━━ tw.

wc:

what started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots and that's the thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings and longing stares; It's born from just one single glance but it dies, and it dies, and it dies — a million little times.

"jungwon, let's not do this—"

"it's over, i'm sorry"

it's over & he's sorry. if only he cared to explain what we were in the first place.

let's rewind?

yang jungwon was the most perfect "boyfriend". only if he was your boyfriend. he got you flowers, he took care of you, but he wasn't your boyfriend — if you could turn back time, you would never agree to be in a "no-label" relationship, because oh boy, does it hurt.

the relationship existed in a perpetual state of limbo, neither fully committed nor entirely detached. you two clung to each other out of loneliness and desperation, your hearts yearning for something more, yet unable to break free from the suffocating grip of their situation.

you loved him. your desire for jungwon's love and affection was strong, like an endless thirst in the desert of your soul. you ached for his presence, touch, and reassuring whispers. you sought the stability and security that had always evaded you in him, believing that he would fill the emptiness in your heart. but he didn't, he made that empty gap bigger.

however, jungwon was just a man plagued by his own demons, haunted by the ghosts of his past. his heart was a fortress, walled by walls of dread and uncertainty, unable to truly embrace your love. he wanted, needed intimacy but resisted it, scared of the vulnerability & commitment it required.

a girl who loves hard and a guy who doesn't understand what to do with that love — a recipe for disaster. commitment was a daunting prospect, for jungwon atleast, it was like a leap into the unknown that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of his very own existence, something he didn't understand himself. he struggled to let go of the past, to trust in the promise of a future with you, even as you stood before him, offering your heart on a silver plate for him.

"why can't you just be honest with me?" you pleaded, your voice trembling with emotion.

jungwon's eyes narrowed, a coldness creeping into his voice. "honesty won't change anything," he retorted, his words laced with bitterness. "you're too naive to understand the truth."

tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to him, your hand trembling. "I don't care, wonie," you pleaded, your voice choked with emotion. "I just want to be with you, no matter what."

jungwon pulled away from you, his heart heavy with guilt. "I wish it were that simple," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "but I can't promise you anything, not when I can barely hold myself together."

each word felt like a blow to your already bruised heart, your chest tightening with the weight of his indifference. "I thought you loved me," you whispered, your voice barely audible above the din of your crumbling relationship.

your heart shattered into a million irreparable pieces, realizing that the man you once loved had become nothing more than a cruel stranger. you couldn't help but wonder if you had ever truly known jungwon at all.

"jungwon, let's not do this—"

"it's over, i'm sorry"

it's over & he's sorry.

where's the rewind button?

@vivvangel, 2024.

#ㅤᵕ̈ vivster #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen jugnwon #yang jungwon #yang jungwon x reader #jungwon x reader #yang jungwon angst #jungwon angst #enhypen jungwon #enha #jungwon #yang jungwon fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #jungwon icons #🩶 heartbreak weather

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

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Title: Tonality [2]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: oop, another addition to the story. i hope it both answers some questions and then raises more, lol. as always, mind the warnings, and please enjoy! 😊🥰

By the time someone comes to fetch you to break fast, you are already awake. Helped into your cumbersome new gown by your lady’s maids, you pace in front of the cold fireplace. You pray the prince avoids the meal entirely, you’ve no wish to face him after—

Your face heats, and you press your hands to your warm cheeks. You don’t want to think of it, but you can’t help it, your mind conjuring images of the prince staring at you with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, his lips curved in that cruel smile—

Better to avoid him altogether.

A soft, almost nervous knock comes upon the door of your chambers, and upon opening it, you discover Kassandra on the other side. She sinks into a deep curtsy, bowing her head.

“Good morning, Your Grace.” Awkwardly, you incline your head in return. “Her Majesty requested I fetch you to break the fast.” She chips happily at you, and you wonder if her good mood is true, or if she has created it for your benefit.

“Lady Kassandra,” you say, edging out of your room and closing the door behind you. “I trust you are well this morning.”

“Oh yes, Your Grace.” She threads her fingers together as a blush reddens her pale cheeks. “I did dance quite late into the evening.”

“I’ve no doubt you must have secured many a betrothal,” you say, and she giggles, covering her smile with the palm of her hand. “You did look quite lovely.” For a moment, you are not princess and lady in waiting—it is almost as though you are friends. Friends. Here in Rivia, you are surrounded by more people than ever before, and yet you find yourself lonelier than ever.

“You are too kind, my lady.” Kassandra seems to find her way easily through the castle’s labyrinthine halls, and it makes you wonder how long she has been here. “Twas you that bewitched the court—if you don’t mind my saying so, Highness.” Her words almost make you stumble, your foot catching against stone.

Your cheeks smart with heat, and your brows knit together in disbelief. “I—It was my mother who married the king.” You do not take yourself for a great beauty, not like your mother, but frustratingly, Kassandra shakes her head.

“Her Majesty was a sight to behold,” she agrees. “But I expect, had you not retired early, Your Grace might have received another offer of betrothal.” Kassandra casts a sly look in your direction. “Or two.” You look away, embarrassedly recalling Lord Olthar’s proposal, his skinny, red-faced son peeking out at you from behind his fathers robes. The thought of allowing him any closer than that turns your stomach, and you shake your head.

“One was quite enough.” You’ve no wish to be married, especially not to Lord Olthar’s spawn. “I should hope to remain in Rivia longer than a week before a match is written in stone,” you say dryly. You’re due a betrothal, that much you know—your eighteenth summer had come and gone without one, and just when your mother’s nattering had reached its peak, the fevers had come for your father. And then, a betrothal was the last thing on anyone’s minds.

��I am glad the king did not accept Lord Olthar’s proposal,” Kassandra admits with a small, secretive laugh. She leans in conspiratorially. “They say his son is rather… over fond of horses.” Her words illicit a gasp from you, your hand flying up to cover your mouth.

You laugh too. “I dare not imagine the wedding.”

“Fit for a queen.”

“The Queen of Horses, perhaps,” you retort, and the two of you dissolve into a fit of quiet giggles.

“I imagine His Majesty will have much higher standers for your betrothal, princess.” She smiles at you reassuringly. “I do not think Lord Olthar will try again.” You nod in return, grateful for her good humor.

“Hopefully I shall not have to think on mine own for quite some time.” Your thoughts are preoccupied enough these days without adding ones of a husband to the array.

“Not inspired by the ceremony?” The low, dark voice makes you turn. Lead forms hot and fast in your stomach at the sight of Prince Geralt. Even during the day, the prince strikes an intimidating figure, wide shoulders and barely tamed silver-white hair. Today, it is partially pulled back behind his ears, loose strands framing his chiseled jaw. Kassandra goes red as she curtsies, blushing deep crimson from the roots of her pale hair to the collar of her dress.

More out of habit than respect, you bend your knees as well, inclining your head. His appearance is sobering, the jovial mood instantly darkening.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.” It is all the politeness you can manage. His face looms still in your mind’s eye, his hair falling across his dark eyes as he drove into her, his hand curled in the hair at the nape of her neck—

You suppress a shiver.

“Apologies, Your Grace!” Kassandra rushes to appease him, striking a chord of frustrated irritation within you. “We simply—”

The prince waves a dismissive hand. “It is only be expected, I suppose.” He says silkily. “I know few women who do not await their wedding day with thoughts of bliss.” When his molten amber eyes rest on you, you shiver. His voice takes on an amused lilt.

“Perhaps things are different in Redania, little sister?” You do not like the way the word drips from his tongue, as if another were in its place, one you don’t know, but that makes the the flesh at the back of your neck prickle just the same. His familiarity irks you as well—Prince Geralt speaks as if he knows you, as if he has spoken more than five words to you, not counting the ones uttered while he had been… otherwise engaged.

You swallow against the tightness in your throat. “Perhaps,” you say. The words are clipped, as if you have bitten off their edges. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help it, the barb slipping from your tongue before you can pluck it. “In Redania, one must wait until after the wedding to consummate the marriage. Does that policy hold true here as well?”

Prince Geralt does not give you the satisfaction of a reaction, his features schooled into cool impassivity.

“I believe so, princess.” There is a dry sort of amusement coloring his words, as if to tell you the blow you’d tried to inflict was meager at best. “It appears we are not so different after all.”

You grind your teeth.

The prince falls into step beside you, setting the pace. To your frustration it is a leisurely one; walking with his arms clasped behind his back as he drags the conversation out. You wonder irately if he is doing this on purpose—you had walked with Kassandra to the hall the previous morning, and it had only taken half the time, you’re sure of it.

”It was a great honor to attend such holy proceedings.” Kassandra’s voice seems to make the prince’s lip curl, and he cuts his eyes at her, sparing her only the barest of glances from the corner of his eye. You know, though, that the words are meant for you.

“Yes, truly.” The prince hums. “And how wonderful our Queen should be fortunate enough to experience them twice.”

Outrage bubbles up in your chest at the insult of his implication, and it takes all of your strength not to respond in kind. You glance at Kassandra, her passive expression evidence that the prince’s sly remark has either been absorbed without question or gone unnoticed entirely. For a moment you imagine his smile goes smug and self-satisfied as your own lips press together into a thin line. Your mind races as you try to formulate a response—this is not a game you are used to playing, one of guileful words wrapped in loose pleasantries, and you feel woefully unprepared for your part in it.

“Fortunate indeed,” you reply, forcing yourself to keep your tone light and airy. By now, the great hall is in sight, servants bustling through the busy corridor as you approach the hall. “A wisely made match, would you not agree, Majesty?” A gaggle of nobles surround the king and queen, their heads swiveling at the sound of your voice. The satisfaction you feel as Geralt’s lips curl into a scowl is a new feeling, one you are not sure you like. —he cannot continue the game, not now, not without open insult. You can tell he does not enjoy being called to heel, least of all by you.

A chorus of good morning’s and your grace’s assail you like raindrops until you are practically dripping with them. You are familiar with only a select few of the faces surrounding the king and your mother, but not many. You recognize Lord Strom, Kassandra’s father, who shares the same sallow features as his daughter. He is flanked by a woman with a pinched, irritated looking expression; you had been introduced just before the wedding ceremony had begun, but you cannot recall her name now, only her relation to the king. A great-aunt—you think.

As you enter the hall, you note that it is already clean, all evidence of last night’s festivities gone, save for your mother, standing before you. Small tables have been set out for the visiting nobility lucky enough to be granted this brief audience with the king. The large table on the dais is already heavy laden with food, servants flanking the table on either side of the king’s chair as they wait for orders. Breakfast at home had been a family affair, gathered around the table in the hall. This, like every other event you have witnessed since arriving, is public spectacle.

Your mother preens at the attention. She flits from person to person, accepting their congratulations with regal grace. Once upon a time, behind the dusty pages of books she wished you would not read, you and father had called her the Pretty Peacock, the way she bustled about the manor and clucked her orders at the matron and her staff. Here, though, it seemed less amusing, and more… purposeful.

Though your mother seems to move amongst these people with ease, you struggle to follow her example, weaving serpentine through the crowd of courtiers, which parts like butter to a hot knife in her wake. Her gown is of a similar color scheme as yours, pale yellow with silver and gold embroidery embellishing her hem and sleeves. The crown of delicate silver and black leaves rests atop her head, the black jewel at its center sparkling. She turns to you with a smile, embracing you warmly.

“Trust my daughter to appear as her name is mentioned.” Your mother’s delicate, feminine laugh makes you want to curl in on yourself as the eyes of her fawning lady’s maids fall to you. “Did you enjoy yourself?” Though you cannot see him, you can feel the prince’s eye upon you with almost physical sensation. The hair at the back of your neck pricks up.

Why does he watch me? You chance a look over your shoulder, and your back stiffens. There are people between you still, a safe barrier, but there is no mistaking it—the prince’s eyes are locked on you, and he makes no effort to hide it. You turn quickly back to your mother as he produces a slim knife from somewhere, and spears an apple from the table with it. The crunch as his teeth break the skin rings uncomfortably in your ears.

“T’was fine,” you answer her quickly, hoping your small, curt smile is enough to convince her. “I danced, some.” It is a lie, but one she either does not recognize or one she cares little about. One set of eyes is appeased, and falls from you. The others bore hot holes in the back of your dress. The king approaches, and you note the affectionate pass of his hand over your mother’s arm. You curtsy low, again, more out of instinct than conscious thought.

“Come now daughter, we are family now, are we not?” He laughs. “Rise.” His expression is warm, but you feel the word roll inside your skull like a loose marble, or a pebble in your shoe. It is unfamilitar and uncomfortable coming from his lips, but you bear it as best you can.

“Y-yes. Family.” The king walks with his hands folded behind his back, a habit you cannot help but note that he shares with his son. You have dreaded this, the game of getting to know one another over the cold corpse of the man who had raised you. It stings, as you knew it would. It feels insane to you, to behave as if all the years of your life prior to this were but a footnote, and this the true story. Perhaps it is you who are insane, the only madwoman adrift in a sea of sensibility.

“Your mother tells me you’ve a great love of books,” he continues, unaware of the rolling turmoil that rocks your stomach. He casts a long glance sideways at you and at first, you cannot tell if there is reprisal or approval in his words. Then, he offers another smile, this one warm, genuine. “I trust you’ve found the archives enjoyable.”

Your mother’s laughter cuts through the moment like a knife. “Oh, don’t encourage her, my love,” she says. “We shall surely lose her in yellow old pages.” The gallery of painted faces behind her titters with amusement, and at the same time, you feel your cheeks begin to smart. Perhaps it is the syrupy sweet my love tacked to the end of her sentence that makes your eyes burn with hot, frustrated tears, or her casual disparagement, you are torn for choice. You shake your head, forcing another smile as you blink them back. Perhaps you are simply being oversensitive, seeing what is not there.

“Thank you, Majesty.” You fold your hands together as you follow the king and queen up to the dais, and move to take your seat. “I shall have to bring Kassandra along with me. Perhaps if I am buried in parchment, she may yet dig me out again.”

You are relieved when the conversation shifts from you, allowing you to stare sullenly at the spread before you in peace. It is startlingly familiar, your mother’s need to ensure that every eye is upon her at all times, and you find that you are perhaps glad for it. It is exhausting to play at happiness and not feel it, and every second you do not have to keep up the pretense is one you are grateful for. Even if it comes at the expense of a little of your pride.

That gratefulness dissipates like smoke in the wind as Prince Geralt seats himself next to you. However intimidatingly large he had felt as you and Kassandra had made your way through the halls, he feels doubly so now. Though he has his own chair and place at the table, it feels as though it is too small to contain him, and he spills over into your seat anyway. His thigh is pressed tightly against your own through your gown, and no amount of subtle shifting on your part seems to remove him. You grimace, and the servant who is pouring water into your goblet gasps, and bows her head quickly.

“Apologies, Your Grace, I have offended you!” Her distress begins to turn heads, and you hurriedly attempt to placate her, shaking your head with a weak smile.

“No, no, it’s nothing—”

“Yes, princess,” the word drips from your stepbrother’s lips like black honey. “Whatever is the matter?”

You glare at him. He is pushing you, trying to force you into a confrontation for no reason you can discern—other than his own blasted amusement. You are tempted to give him what he wants, your own accusations waiting eagerly at the tip of your tongue. And you have your pick of poisons to dispense; his foul behavior the night before, his insult to the queen—

But as you look down the table, you see few allies. King Vesemir looks at you with an apathetic sort of curiosity. And your mother… her doll-like expression appears concerned, but you can read it for what it truly is. The way her eyes narrow, her mouth tightened just so at the corners—

She is angry.

You can hear her without her speaking, and your mind conjures her reprisal perfectly, even without her input.

You are making a scene. You know that is what she would tell you. Be silent. Be seen, not heard.

“Nothing.” You wish you could slap Prince Geralt, slap the concerned facade right off of his wretched face. “Nothing at all.”

—

The grass beneath you is brittle, and you can feel it crumbling into dusty nothing as it crunches beneath the soles of your bare feet. The low-cut hedges have grown out crooked and gnarled from neglect, their roots erupting thirstily from the baked earth to choke the narrow pathway. The garden is different now than it was when you had left, but you know it still—home. The manor looms gloomily above the garden, sticking out of the barren hillside like a jagged tooth, glaring angrily down at the cracked flowerbeds and baked earth.

Everything is dead here.

The icy wind that whips at your cotton shift, tangling it about your legs is dead, carrying with it the sound of grinding bones and last breaths. From the parched fissures in the dead, hungry dirt, you can hear whispers, and you press your cold, shaking hands to your ears to block them out. You do not know the reason, but nevertheless the knowledge remains in your bones as if you were born with it—

I mustn’t listen. I mustn’t hear the dead.

You press your palms against the sides of your head until it aches, dragging your feet through the dead, overgrown grass as you make your way through the garden. You want to leave, to turn around and leave this place, this terrible mirror, but your body will not obey. Instead, your unwilling legs carry you further and further into the spiral of dry, overgrown hedges and cracked pavement. The ghostly voices continue to rise in pitch until they are screaming, tortured cries leaking up from below as you approach the center of the garden.

It, like everything else here, is wrong, gleaming as if polished in the dim light of the dead sun. It is white like bone, and black, sluggish muck leaks from the trumpet of the nymph carved there. The sly, mysterious smile carved on her marble lips has been replaced by a grimace of abject terror, and when you follow her stone gaze, your eyes widen with the same emotion. Your hands leave your ears then, covering your mouth to try and dampen the horrified gasp that leaves your lips.

Your father stands before you.

He is still a distance away, walking slowly toward you through the garden. His eyes are blacked out, but not completely, black wriggling over the whites like a child’s scribble, black thread weaved through the skin of his lips, suturing them shut.

He is horrible.

He begins to open his mouth, and it yawns wide, the threads snapping—

You sit up, a hand clutching at your chest. You stare around the room, panting as your mind attempts to place you in your still unfamiliar surroundings. Your heart is still races from the dream, your hands clammy and trembling. The taste of dry earth coats your tongue, and your throat feels cold and parched, as if you had walked the cold gardens truly, and not only in your dreams.

You can still see it, the rotting black threads holding your father’s withered lips shut, the black writhing ink scribbles across his eyes—

“No.” You mutter the word softly as you press the heels of your palms to your closed eyes, pushing hard until colored spots dance in your vision. You do not want to think of your father that way, his body moldering in the earth, rotting away like he had never been in the first place. It had felt so real, the cool distant glare of the white sun, the arid earth beneath your feet—

“A nightmare.” You say it aloud to no-one. “Nothing more.”

The morning sun paints a bright stripe across the blankets through the curtains of the four poster bed, and you tug them further open, squinting. Everything in your chambers is as it was the night before, though the fire in the hearth has gone down to cinders, and a copper tub has been set before it. You step out and into your slippers, noting the steam that still rises from the water. They must have brought it in as you slept, though you had not heard them do so.

I slept… unusually deeply.

You disrobe, stepping into the water with a grateful sigh. You sink in until you are mostly submerged, your nose hovering above the surface as you stare pensively at the window, studying the gray, muddled shape of the buildings beyond it. You do not want to think of the dream, or your father, but both seem intent at crowding at the forefront of your mind.

You know your father would tell you not to ignore it. Dreams mean things, he would say. What did it tell you? But there is no meaning you can discern from your nightmare, other than that you miss your father, and you wish he were still here, with you.

After you finish in the bath, you dress yourself. Instead of the multi-layered gown set out for you by your lady’s maids, you rummage through the wardrobe for one of the loose, flowy dresses more typical of your warm countryside home. You find one at the back, and as you slip into it, you feel more settled, more yourself. The creamy, peach colored fabric has one long, bell sleeve, and drapes modestly across your chest, exposing the top of one shoulder. It is less cumbersome than the heavy, three piece set they chose, and when they enter to help you, you can see the surprise written on their faces.

To their credit, they say nothing, simply helping braid and pin your hair, before setting the small silver circlet you wear at your mother’s insistence upon your brow.

It is long past time to break fast, but nevertheless, your request for a scone with butter and sweet cream is met without fuss down in the kitchens. As you eat, Kassandra marvels at your dress.

“I quite like it, Majesty,” she says, clapping her hands encouragingly as she circles you. “No corset? I do wonder if my father might permit me to have one made in its likeness,” she moans rather piteously. “Though I doubt he shall be pleased by my asking, it is quite bold, if you do not mind my saying so, Highness.” You look down at yourself, and then raise an eyebrow.

“Why should he find your request offensive? I mean no insult, but I do believe our dress more…modest than those of fashion here in Rivia.” Even Kassandra’s low cut gown exposes the tops of her breasts, the bodice molding to her body,pushing them out and up before rising back up to play at covering her shoulders. She laughs behind a hand at your ire.

“I suppose it is all a matter of personal opinion, my lady. I do find Redanian fashion quite lovely, if this dress should be a fair representation.”

“ ‘Tis.” You reply, finishing your biscuit. From your place by the windows, just outside the kitchen, you can see down into the gardens. Though the sight of them is sullied by the memory of your stepbrother’s wanton behavior, the glint of colored glass catches your eye. “What is that?” You ask, pointing at the colored shafts of light as they seemingly beam upward from the ground, the source blocked by lush greenery.

“The roof of the chapel,” Kassandra says. “It is made of stained glass.” At your confused look, she continues. “The chapel is beneath the keep, Majesty, it’s roof is the center of the maze. It is quite beautiful, should you wish to see it, my lady.” Intrigued, you nod.

“Yes, thank you. I would.”

Kassandra leads you down into the bowels of the castle, and you feel the walls grow cold around you as daylight through the arched windows is replaced by the soft glow of candles. The construction looks much older down here, the stone pitted and smooth not from polish but from the passage of time. Upstairs, the corridors had been crowded with courtiers, lords and ladies all seeking the king’s approval, or waiting for their opportunity to serve at his request.

Instead, you take note of the priests in their pale robes, black ink sigils drawn onto the skin of their foreheads and the expanses of their cheeks beneath their eyes. They keep their heads bowed and shoulders stooped as they shuffle through the halls in penitent silence.

“Why do they paint their faces?” You ask quietly.

“So that the gods might receive their prayers.”

The chapel’s carved doors bear images of the gods you do not worship, the wood branded with the sigil of the king—the head of a wolf, it’s mouth open in an eternal snarl. Inside, the air is thick with incense, and it takes you more than a few labored breaths to grow used to it. The inside of the chapel is long and narrow, its walls lined with alcoves featuring enormous statues of the gods. Kassandra gestures to the ceiling, trailing her fingers through the shafts of colored light that stream down, bathing the sullen atmosphere in muted color.

“Is it not beautiful, lady?”

“Yes, it is.” You speak truth—the glass is beautiful, unclouded and the colors true. Images of faith are splashed across the colored surfaces; a great wolf standing beneath a full moon, devouring a beautiful maiden, the three-faced Mother bathed in the golden light of the sun, and the Spider, sitting in the center of her silver web. You watch as Kassandra makes a sign with her right hand, her middle finger and thumb pressed together. She brings it reverently to her forehead, before dropping it to her chin, and then the center of her chest.

It is a quiet, sullen sort of reverence, one you see mirrored in the bowed heads of the priests, and in the quiet, droning chants the monks at the pulpit continue without pause. But there is no joy here. No voices lifted in worshipful, devoted song, nor dances with arms stretched to the bright and brilliant sky. Those are the rituals of worship you know, the ones your father taught you. This place, like the garden in your dream, feels dead.

If there ever were gods here, they have certainly gone, now.

“Who is this?” You ask, pointing to the wolf. It’s golden eyes seem to follow you around the room as you trail after Kassandra, and it makes you think uncomfortably of the prince. She stops in front of it’s stone copy, and she makes the sigil again, finger on thumb, forehead, chin, chest.

“Father Wolf.” She says as she rises. “It is said that he devours the moon each night, so that it may be reborn in the morning, as the sun.” She cocks her head. “Do you not know the stories, Majesty?”

“She would not.” You turn to see one of the priests. In his hand, he holds an incense box, sluggish white smoke pouring from the gold painted slats. “Her Majesty hails from Redania. They hold to the old faith there.” You watch his eyes narrow as they drop to your gown before traveling back up to your face. His lips curve into an unfriendly smile. “I did not think to see Your Highness here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “In my experience father, it is a poor monarch who expects to rule people she knows nothing about.” Kassandra ducks her head, covering her mouth to hide her smile at your diplomatically worded impertinence.

His cheek tics. “Of course, Highness.” He bows his head in a manner you know is meant to be respectful, though the acid that drips from his words is anything but. “The people shall be pleased that you are so…familiar.” He drums his fingers against the incense box, before fixing you with another small, curt smile. “They do not react well to the southland’s…” He pauses to search for a word. “Heathenistic rituals.”

The words fly to your tongue before you can swallow them back, flying from your lips with righteous indignation.

“Are you quite sure the heathen rituals you fear are not your own, Father?” His mouth twists with anger, but you do not cower in the face of it, jutting your chin out stubbornly. You have taken little pleasure in the shifting of your station, but his brazen disrespect sets a blazing fire in your chest. You are a princess, and you will not be spoken to this way.

“Father Rame.” Your belly fills with hot iron at Prince Geralt’s voice, his tone warning. So irate were you with the priest that you had taken no notice of his approach. The prince leans against one of the stone pews, his arms crossed over his broad chest. “You would do well to hold your tongue, lest my father remove it.” The priest drops into a low bow, his lips curling into a scowl. “I do not think he would take kindly to your… implications.”

“Apologies, My Prince, I meant only to—” Geralt raises a hand, and Father Rame’s words die in his throat.

“Go. And perhaps I will… forget to inform the kingsguard of your offense today.” You can tell the priest is unsatisfied, his hands clenching into tight fists in the sleeves of his robe. Nevertheless, he issues you another stiff apology through his clenched teeth, before he turns on his heel, his robes billowing behind him.

“Thank you.” You spit the words out as if they have burnt you. “For your assistance.” Geralt’s amber eyes dip the way Father Rame’s did, and you hate the way they drag across every inch of you before coming to rest on your face. Instead of scornful disapproval, you find something else there. Something darker you refuse to name.

“My pleasure, princess.” He purrs the words, and you feel them like a physical caress. You try to hide the shiver that travels down your spine, gooseflesh erupting on the back of your neck and arms in its wake. He glances at Father Rame’s retreating back. “I would pay him no heed. The good Father can be… Zealous.”

“That is certainly one way to put it.” You remark dryly.

“He will not bother you again.” He says it with a finality that makes you shift uncomfortably under his gaze.

“I hope not.” You brush a speck of imagined dirt from the bodice of your dress, and the prince’s eyes follow the movement.

“Your gown is lovely, sister.” He says, and you swallow against the sudden lump in your throat. “I have not seen its like since last I was in Redania.”

“Thank you.” You stiffen as he moves towards you, slow steps carrying him in a small circle around you and Kassandra. You force yourself to endure his inspection.

“Oh yes.” He fingers the hem of your sleeve before you step back, a little. “I hope you do not mind me imparting a bit of… Rivian wisdom?”

Do I have any choice? You force a smile. “Please.”

“This is a married woman’s color, Sweetling.” His eyes are molten honey.

“W-what?” You do not know which words you were expecting to fall from the prince’s smug lips, but it was not these. “I—”

“I hope you take no offense,” he drawls, though the expression on his face says otherwise. “I only mean to inform.”

“H-how interesting.” You force a small smile, before turning quickly to Kassandra.

“My head aches from the incense,” you say, turning away from him and striding toward the door. “We should take our leave.” With a stiff, reluctant bow, you turn from the prince. “Excuse us, please.”

“By all means.”

Kassandra squeaks, hurrying after you with her skirts gathered tightly into her hands. As you push angrily through the entering group of priests and out into the corridor, you can feel two sets of eyes on your retreating back—

Geralt’s, and the wolf’s.

to be continued…

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

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redjaybathood · 2 months

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This is very important. In Crimea, russians, again, start to use fake criminal investigations to incarcerate Crimean Tatars. This is not new - but it is the new mass wave of searches on trumped-up charges and arrests.

Translation of the thread below.

1/9 Mass searches in Crimea

10 Crimean Tatar families. 10 homes, where russian "security forces" broke into at dawn. What do we know about the newe wave of mass searches on the Crimean peninsula?

2/9 4 activists of "Crimean Solidarity", Bakhchysarai, as well as 6 religion leaders and activists from Dzhankoy district, became victims of the rampage of the occupatoinal forces.

Among them, the former Imam Remzi Kurtnezirov, who has a severe disability.

3/9 "Security forces" behaved themselves very rudely, despite the presence of elderly and small children.

Over the course of the searches, they took documents, tech, and literature. Moreover, the relatieves of the detained people state that the books were planted.

4/9 FSB agents, when asked by the relatives, replied that they are looking for weapons and illicit chemicals.

The men are charged with Article 205.5 of the Criminal Code of the Russian Federation - the same one that the Hizb ut-Tahrir cases are fabricated under.

5/9 After the searches, Crimean Tatars were taken to FSB HQ in Simferopol.

Currently, some of them were allowed a lawyer but the pre-trial detention measure was not choosen yet.

6/9 Names of the detained: Rustem Osmanov, Aziz Azizov, Memet Lumanov, Mustafa Abduramanov, Remzi Kurtnezirov, Vakhid Mustafayev, Ali Mamutov, Arsen Kashka, Enver Khalilayev, Nariman Ametov

7/9

According to preliminary information, this is the third largest wave of searches on the alleged involvement in Hizb ut-Tahrir.

The most massive searches took place in March 2019, when 24 Crimean Tatars were targeted.

8/9 CrimeaSOS analyst Yevhen Yaroshenko notes that detentions in the "Hizb ut-Tahrir cases" in Crimea are intensified approximately once every six months.

This is due to the targeted plan for certain categories of "cases" that intelligence officers have to fulfill.

9/9 Repressions against Crimean Tatars are one of the principles of russia's criminal policy on the peninsula.

In order to stop the occupiers, we must respond firmly to every manifestation of lawlessness and effectively oppose it

#Crimea #Crimean Tatars #russia is a terrorist state

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yeyinde · 1 year

Note

Can we have sub!Soap 🥺 please. Like he kindly let's her have control for one night and he fuckin loves it. Maybe she ties his hands and makes him beg to let him touch her while she rides his face or something (,: I think he would be so good at begging

hiya, op! so sorry this took so long!!

Sub!Soap was such a delight—thank you so much for this! 🫣

warnings: Sub!Soap; begging; face-sitting/face-riding—f!receiving; female!reader; female gendered anatomy; femdom; unfettered filth; Johnny is stupid for you

"Y'have no idea what y'do t'me, hen—"

His words are barely coherent when he slurs them out, breath humid and heavy on your neck. The hot, wet press of his tongue follows, laving across your pulse point. It's the flash of teeth against your skin that has you tipping your head back in pleasure.

"Johnny," you murmur his name softly, words swallowed by the sound on the television—Everton versus the Celtics, or so he told you when you stumbled home that evening, exhausted from work. It's lost in the grainy static of cheers, and the booming voices of the commentators.

He's incorrigible tonight—grasping at you with feverish hands as he tugs your trousers down, pawing at your flesh.

There is a desperation in the way that he moves, so different from his usual teasing demeanour. A roughness in how he handles you, touches you. It sits low in your belly until you're burning from the fervid hands that roam your body until not an inch has been left untouched, until his fingerprints are a mosaic on your flesh.

"Please, hen—," he murmurs into your sternum, hair tickling your nose. "I just need it—need it so bad—"

The taste of whiskey on his tongue is sharp when you lean down, moulding your lips to his.

Johnny's kisses are always so needy. So intense. He kisses you deeply, thoroughly, as if he can't get enough of the taste, and doesn't stop until you're pushing at his chest, gasping for air.

There is something in the way he aches for you tonight that simmers inside your veins. A liquid spume of rich confidence: the illicit tang of conquest.

It's almost like an out-of-body experience when you thread your fingers through his hair—longer now that he's on leave—and pulls. He groans against your bottom lip, deep and heavy; the noise vibrating through your chest. It's—

Addicting.

Your fingers tighten until a fistful of his brown locks is sat in your palm. Another tug, and he whimpers.

"Fuck, hen—," he pants, hands clenched around your waist. "That feels so fuckin' good—"

"Yeah?" You purr, thick with coquettish mirth; a slurry of want and power. "You gonna be a good boy for me, then?"

"Jesus Christ—"

Your words seemed to have stunned him. He's malleable, pliant, when you push him down on the couch. Eyes wide, hungry; his mouth red from your teeth—Johnny looks like he was made to be beneath you.

"I wanna tie you up, Johnny." You whisper to him, tongue rolling over your upper lip. He shudders under you, head tips back as he groans again. "Make you beg for it."

"Ah, fuck—" his hips jerk, nearly toppling you off. His hands snap up, grasping your waist. An apology spills from his lips. "You cannae say shite like that t'me."

The broken end of a giggle tips out when his accent thickens. “Oh no?”

He groans, shoulders tensing when your hands fall to his chest. “Jesus—”

"Want me to ride you?" You murmur, cocking your head at him. "You can't touch me, though."

His tongue flicks out over his bottom lip, eyes cresting with want. "Aye," he rasps, swallowing thickly. "But—I want to taste you, hen."

Your breath catches, words barely a whisper. "Oh, yeah? You want me to—"

"Sit on my face, bonnie. I want to taste your cunt."

His words bludgeon through you; molten need pools in your lower belly. You shiver.

"That what you want? Want me to ride your face? Get you all messy—"

His hips twitch again. You can feel the swell of his cock against your ass.

"C'mon, hen, please—"

His hands are burning when he grabs your waist, helping you move over him. It's liquid with Johnny—years of practice in the SAS make him agile, and strong: you can feel it in his hands when he takes hold of you.

There is something magnetic about a man who surrenders himself to you wholly despite the clear distinction in power.

Balanced over him like this, staring into those hazy eyes, it's almost intoxicating, more so than the half-drunk cup of whiskey and coke made you feel. The surge of it through your veins makes you dizzy. Delirious with it, really.

"Johnny," you breathe, heart thrumming when he immediately looks up, responding instantly to you. "You're not allowed to touch me, love. I want your hands—," you grasp his wrist, sliding them down until his palms rest flat on your thighs; "—right here. Don't move."

The command slips with an ease that makes his eyes flutter, a soft groan rolling out of his throat. "Fuck, hen—just gimme it, please—"

Like most things with Johnny, it—this— started out as a joke.

A friend's wedding in Aberdeen. A few drinks. He kept talking, teasing. His hand was heavy on your thigh, hidden from view of everyone. Glass of scotch in hand, eyes azure in the coruscating lights hanging from the beams above, you could taste the anticipation in the air when he dipped his finger between your legs, hiking the hem of your dress up.

He leaned down. The scent of sin on his breath. "Be good for me, dove. No one'll notice."

In response, you'd clamped your thighs tight together, trapping his wandering hands. Smile taut, eyes sharp, you purred: if you don't stop it, Johnny, I'm gonna have to punish you, love.

His hand twitched.

"Yeah?" His voice was lower, breathier than you'd ever heard him speak. "How so? What'll y'do to me—"

Your eyes cut across the table. No one was watching. No one noticed this moment. But his words were liquid in your ear.

"I'll have to tie those wandering hands up, won't I?"

He spilt his drink on the table when he set the glass down.

Johnny looked back at you, and you knew this wasn't over. You should have known then that trouble was simmering in the hazel eyes.

And now—

"Yeah, bonnie," he breathes against your cunt when your fingers thread through his hair, giving a sharp tug. "Just like that."

Johnny isn't the type of man to be incredibly dominant in the bedroom. There is an ebb and flow. He gives just as much as he takes, and so long as he has you writhing around, and desperate for him, he's a happy man.

This, however, is new. Uncharted territory.

"Are you sure, Johnny?"

His eyes are molten. "Fuck, hen. You have no idea."

There is a pinch in your muscles from holding yourself above him like this, barely an inch away from that devious mouth, but still. You hold it. Swallow it down. You want him to beg.

"Is that how you ask for it, Johnny?" You coo, tightening your grip on his hair. "Mind your manners, baby. I know you can do better than that."

Your words make his eyes roll. Milky whites flood his lower lids as he tips his chin back, a ragged whine spilling out. "Steamin' fucking Jesus, hen—," he chokes, hands squeezing the meat of your thighs.

It's a parody of what he once whispered into your ear, fingers buried in your cunt.

Mind yer manners, hen.

Words tumble out in a gruff litany, too fast and slurred for you to keep up with.

"Come on, now—" a sharp pull makes him croak. "Don't you want me to ride your face, Johnny?"

"Please, hen, fuck—! I need your cunt. I need it bad—"

It's rucked: gathered at the base of his throat where it sits, heavy and syrupy thick. The timbre, the desperation, the quiver in his voice makes you whimper, your core tightening with want. You need his mouth on you, need something to stem the ache inside of you.

You almost give in, almost drop your drenched pussy to his lips, but you don't. You can't.

He can do better than that.

"Johnny," you tut, rolling your hips over his mouth. Just a tease. Just a brush. His hands tighten, trying to pull you closer. "Stop."

He freezes immediately.

You're sure this isn't what the SAS meant when they said they'd train him to be perfectly disciplined and obey commands in an instant, but you can't help sending a small bout of gratitude to the heavens for that. Your perfect soldier.

(Somewhere in the great yonder, you can only assume his superior officer is cursing your name.)

"If you don't behave, Johnny, I won't let you touch me at all. I'll make you keep your hands over your head."

"No, no, no—," it's out before you even finish. "I'll be good, hen, I'll be so fuckin' good fer ya."

"Then prove it."

His hands spasm over your flesh, and then go still. The steadying breath he takes rolls over you, and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to keep from whining.

This man will ruin you.

His eyes are wide and saturated in desire. Like a good soldier, he waits for his command.

Fuck—

(That is, of course, if you don't ruin him first.)

"Do you want to taste me, baby? Want my pussy on your mouth?"

He nods, eager and frenzied. "Fuck, yes, yes, yes—please, bonnie, I need it so fuckin' bad—"

"I'm going to give you a taste, love." You murmur, hand slipping down until you're cupping the back scruff of his mohawk in your palm. Another fistful. His lashes flutter. "But you better make it good, yeah? Or I'll make you sit there and watch as I get myself off instead."

"Fuckin'—Christ —!"

His hips jerk again. Eyes whiting out.

It's the way his forehead crumples at the image conjured, eyes squeezing shut, that makes you whimper. His body trembles under you, coiled tight; muscles pull together in an effort to keep himself from moving. To obey your command.

Your breath knots in your lungs, core throbbing at the sight of him so needy for it, so lost in the hazy thought of watching you fuck your cunt, play with your clit, and not letting him do a damned thing at all, makes your spine tingle. Makes goosebumps erupt over your flesh.

(Something, then, to try later.)

Your voice is already wrecked—low, breathy. It's a sultry roll of want, eager and desperate. "Ready, love?"

His only response is a deep groan, another pitch of his hips. Johnny's eyes slide open. Molten gold gazing at you.

"Please, hen, please—"

The first desperate swipe of his molten tongue delving between your folds has you shuddering from the intense pleasure that roils inside of your core. It's good. So fucking good.

Johnny eats your cunt like he'll never have it again. Like it's something to be savoured. A delicate treat, an expensive wine. Slow and sweet, dragging it out until you have tears running in rivets down your raw cheeks, throat hoarse from begging him for so long. It's tender, almost. Barely a graze. A whisper of his tongue. He pants against your cunt, blowing softly at your clit until you're tugging at his hair for respite.

Discipline, you think, watching the way his eyes roll when he finally gets his fill of you. Mouth devouring you whole. He's controlled in his movements despite the obvious strain in the way he rolls his tongue over you, but the agony leaks out in the pinch of his fingers, the shudders wracking through his body. The jerks of his hips. His mouth works seamlessly, but his eyes encapsulate the neediness brimming inside of him.

It's palpable when he nudges his nose against your mound, breath harsh and heavy when it comes out. Heaving gasps and gusts of air as if he was drowning, and struggling to stay afloat.

Maybe, he is.

But it's—

Not good enough.

You want to break him. Shatter that self-control until it fragments between your thighs. Until he's whining into your cunt, begging for reprieve.

Your head tips back, hips rolling over his mouth. The stubble on his chin and cheeks scratch the soft, sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, but the burn feels good. You want him to mark you. Love it when he rubs himself over your skin until you're raw from it.

"Johnny," you whimper, his name a hymnal on your tongue. "Stop—"

It's a nearly maddening sense of torture when he grunts against your pussy, curses spilling from his mouth. But he listens.

Your good soldier. Your obedient man—

"Fuck," he slurs, the word bitten and doused in anger, frustration. "Come on, hen, I need your cunt. I need my mouth on your pussy. You want it, I know you fuckin' do, so why're ya—"

"Johnny—" his name is sharp. He stills immediately. You pull his head up, pressing yourself against his mouth. "You need to learn when to shut up."

His eyes flash. A challenge brims in those molasses depths. Sticky, thick, and now bubbling with ire. You've angered him.

Johnny always gets what he wants. Always. And now—

It's euphoric. The absolute unfettered debauchery that spools inside of your head is enough to make you shudder. To have a man whose strength could easily knock you aside and take what he wanted without it even being a fight reduced to smouldering vexation over not getting to taste your cunt is a rush, it's a high you could fall into. He's docile beneath you. Listening to every word you say. But his eyes—

A shaky smile splits across your face. "You want it, babe? Want my pussy?"

"Yes," he hisses, brows furrowing tight together. There is aching desperation in his eyes. A plea. "I need it, hen. I want your pretty pussy on my face. I want you to ride me until you cum on my tongue. I need you, pretty thing. I need it—"

"Be a good boy, then, and prove it to me."

He doesn't hesitate. His tongue slips over you, eyes dropping when he finally has your taste back in his mouth. He moans when you sink down, when your hand lifts, pinching your nipple as he delves inside your core.

His control breaks when you grind your cunt over him. Hands tighten, fingers digging into your flesh, and then he shatters. His mouth is liquid when it seals over you, tongue laving against your clit, eyes rolling back into his head. Johnny moans again; the low groans spilling from deep within his chest.

It's sloppy. All of that curated control obliterating in his ire, his neediness to have you. To make you cum.

Make it good, you'd said.

The challenge in his eyes reared. I fuckin' intend to.

(Johnny is such a good boy when he breaks.)

#john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap call of duty #soap x you #soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap #cod #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod mw2 fic #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #my price fic just eyeing me in the background #requests

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heavenlyakin · 6 months

Text

Illicit Affairs

Vampire!Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader - MINORS DNI

cw: 18+, minors DNI, reader is a british socialite, monster-fucking, religious imagery and language (reader isn’t necessarily religious but mentions god and the devil in the Christian sense), vore (bloodsucking), atsumu picks reader up, she falls a lot so if that annoys you don’t read this, “whore” is used in a derogatory way, Atsumu has electricity bc obvs (vampire science is better), violence (beheading on page and murder mention), age gap (like obvs he’s a vampire), virginity loss, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, general smut, and violence on page.

wc: ~15k

a/n: This is long. I’m sorry. However, I had the best time writing it, so maybe I’m not sorry. I would like to thank Kashi, Mimi, and Rue for all your time listening to me rant about this fic, reading it, giving me suggestions, and just being great friends to me. I hope you enjoy this short story! Happy Halloween!

–

Outside London, October 1845.

Right foot first.

As the music blasts through the chapel from the band to your right, you realize you can’t breathe. You try to inhale, but it does nothing. Seeing Graham standing at the end of the aisle makes you wish you’d skipped tea.

Left foot.

Your eyes scan the room, looking for the blonde head of hair of the woman your future husband has been fucking on the side. She’s from a London brothel, but Graham has given her an apartment outside of town and an allowance to live on.

Right foot.

Graham smiles at you.

Left foot.

All the smiling faces make you want to scream. Your father's hold on your arm, the bouquet, and the dress all feel suffocating—the dress’s pretty sleeves lined with baby blue lace and thread might as well be handcuffs.

Right foot.

He’s only a few steps away now. You spot the blonde face you don’t immediately recognize, two rows from the front. He would allow her to sit that close? It’s embarrassing enough to have the bridesmaids gossiping about it while you were dressing, but to sit her so close… it hurts.

Left foot.

The music comes to its crescendo. You have to get out of here.

Right foot.

You have to get out of here.

One last step.

Graham smiles at you again, his teeth pearly white and perfect. His green eyes sparkle. His brown hair combed back with product making him look older. As the music dies down, your father whispers something to you, but you can’t hear it.

The Priest steps forward, his lips moving, the cross dangling from the long chain on your neck swings from left to right. It gets hushed, everyone on the altar looking at you and your father too.

Did they say something to you?

“Apologies, can you repeat that?” You smile the best you can, and the Priest smiles back.

“We just need you to step forward,” the Priest answers and you realize your father agreed to give you away to Graham.

Your father had released his arm from yours, and you realize nothing is holding onto you anymore. You look to your father, his sweet supportive smile greeting you. Turning back to face Graham, you try to take a step forward, up onto the altar but your legs shake.

You can’t do this.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, dropping the beautiful bouquet to the ground.

Turning, you feel your father's fingers on your dress sleeve, but you don’t give him time to grip on. You’re darting back down the aisle and out of the chapel. Your feet move faster than your mind, only able to think one thing.

Please don’t fall or break a heel. Please don’t fall or break a heel.

The chapel is on the outskirts of town, and running north of it takes you into the woods. You trip as you begin to climb the hill, your shoes catching on roots and debris. You push yourself off the ground, seeing your dress's hem is already caked in mud. Shaking your head, you ignore it and take off as fast as you can. The incline stops soon, and you’re fighting through the underbrush.

The sun is setting, lighting everything in an orange glow as the fog begins to set in the forest. You’re still running, well, running would be a stretch. Your breathing is heavy and your lungs burn with each inhale. How long has it been since you took off from the chapel? The wedding began at 6, and with the sun setting you believe it’s nearing 7.

How much distance can you put between you and them in an hour?

You turn, looking back, and see only trees and brush. Even when you try to focus your eyes, you can’t see the lights from town. You must be at least a few miles into the forest now. You take off again, more at a speed walk than a run. Your legs are sore and your heels feel blistered in the heels you chose for this day.

As you climb up another hill, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing. You could be off to your honeymoon now, two months traveling Europe and visiting castles and ruins. It would be warm in your rooms and only partly miserable, having to listen to Graham and suffering the consummation of the marriage. Not that you worried he’d be bad, but that you wouldn’t live up to what he's used to with that mistress of his.

Graham isn’t friendly to be around alone, either. The few times you were left unsupervised he reminded you of the position you were in. Your mother ran off years ago, apparently with a sailor; ruining your family’s reputation, despite the wealth your father holds. Marrying him would restore your name, and he’d be the one to inherit your fortune since you are the only child of your father.

He insulted you, a few times, but then smiled like he was saying something friendly. His kisses on your hand always lingered too long for your comfort. Something about him just made your skin crawl, honestly. The idea of spending the rest of your life with that man led you here to the woods.

As you reach the top of the hill, it plateaus and the trees become more sparse, well if you can call it sparse. Looking around, the fog has entirely settled at the base of the trees and brush, making it hard to see. You slow down to a walk, letting yourself catch your breath as you go. You stumble on your dress and the fallen branches, making you fall on your face. Luckily, you caught yourself before your face took the brunt of it, but your right cheek does hit the ground.

When you push yourself back up, you see a faint yellow glow across the way, through a few trees and bushes. You gather the skirts of your dress in your hands and make your way towards it, the chill in your body desperate for the hope of a fire. As you get close, you see the shadowy figure of a body, large and brooding.

The light seems to be coming from a lantern, so you give up hope of getting warm anytime soon. You take a few more steps until you see what’s happening. The figure is digging a hole in the ground, a body lying beside the mound of dirt. As you step back, a twig snaps, and the figure turns towards you.

You run again, getting a few feet away before you fall, your body hitting the ground with a thud. Unlike last time, you didn’t catch yourself. Your right ankle throbs and you worry you’ve broken it. As you turn to face away from the ground, the figure that was once yards away is now hovering over you. How did they get here so fast? It’s only been a few seconds.

It’s a man, an extremely handsome man. His eyes glow gold, and it confuses you but something about it calms your nerves, even though you know you should be running. Yet, you’re frozen in place.

He extends out his hand, and you see his nails are long, and sharpened to a point on the tips. “Are you in need of assistance, miss?”

You nod your head, unable to make a sound. However, you still can’t move. Even if you took his hand, with your ankle throbbing the way it is, you’re certain you can’t walk.

“Here, let me help you,” He leans down, and you notice something on his face. Is that blood or mud? In the light, you can’t tell.

He picks you up, holding you bridal-style against his chest. His scent enthralls you, rose with a hint of mahogany. You inhale, the scent putting you at ease and your eyes flutter shut for a moment.

This…, you think, this is what you’re supposed to feel on your wedding day.

You shake the thought from your mind, opening your eyes and observing the man carrying you. His blonde hair falls over his forehead, his skin creamy smooth and almost glowing in the faint moonlight.

“Who are you?” You find your voice.

“Atsumu,” he answers. “Atsumu Miya.”

You nod, looking forward and letting him carry you through the woods. You’re still well aware of the throbbing in your right ankle. “Where are you taking me?”

“I live close by. You can rest there and clean up.” He says, still not looking at you.

His eyes are focused on the forest ahead of him, and you wonder what close by means to him. It could be an hour if he considers that close. The sun has set now, and the only glow is from his eyes and the moon. He left the lantern back with the body…

The body! He was burring a body!

“Let me go!” You thrash against him and he holds you tighter, looking down at you with his eyebrows furrowed. “I said, let me go!” You yell this time.

When your eyes meet his, something washes over you again and you begin to relax, no longer feeling the urge to fight. But… but… he was burying someone. A body! What was he doing back there? Why are you not fighting anymore?

“Who was that back there? The body!” Even if you feel relaxed, you can still question him.

Atsumu looks down at you, his face unreadable but his eyes giving that same intense look that he’s had on his face the whole time.

“Nothing you should be concerned with.” He looks back ahead of you as he walks.

The forest begins to open up, a clearing forming ahead. As you get closer, the frame of a large house… well, if you can call it a house. It looks more like a castle. The gates around the home open as Atsumu approaches, creaking as they go. The fog seems to have vanished, hiding out at the edge of the forest.

Warm lights glow from inside the castle, and you wonder if running water is inside. In the last five years, running water has even been installed in the lower class homes, and with the amount of wealth, this castle shows… it must. A warm bath sounds so delightful now, you could almost beg for one.

As if he’s read your mind he speaks, “I’ll have a bath drawn for you once we're inside.”

You nod, looking up at him. He continues to look forward, but you see a vein bulging from his neck. Like something in him is straining. He seems to carry you just fine, so it can’t be you causing the strain.

As the castle doors open, your eyes dart around to look everywhere. The entrance is grand, decorated in the latest fashion with dark wood, red rugs, and warm light glowing from every corner of the room. The staircase has a gothic feel, leading forward and then splitting to go left and right to the opposite wings of the castle.

He carries you up the stairs that lead to the right wing of the castle, taking you down a long hall that curves as you go. A set of double doors open, as if he willed them to, and he sets you down on a forest green sofa. Your body relaxes into it, the soft cushions welcoming your sore bones.

Atsumu brings the room to life with light, the chandelier lighting overhead. You admire the crystal work before looking around the bedroom. It’s larger than your father’s master bedroom in your estate back home. You watch as Atsumu sheds his cloak, lying it across a chaise near the four-poster bed.

“Your bath should be ready, do you need assistance?” He asks, walking towards you and you shake your head.

“I believe I can take it from here. Thank you,” you dismiss him.

He doesn’t leave. He puts his hands behind him, stepping aside, so you can go through to what you assume is the bathing room. You stand, putting your weight on your left foot so you can try and make it to the bath. As you step on your right, you cry out in pain. You begin to fall, but strong arms catch you.

“Stop being difficult, just let me assist you.” He growls, clearly frustrated with you now.

He hooks his arms behind your body and lifts you again, taking you to the bathing room. There’s steam coming from the bathtub and your body aches for it. He sets you on a chair, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of your dress. You’re embarrassed, face heating more and more as his fingers lower on your back, exposing the corset beneath the bodice of the dress.

“If you just get the corset undone, I think I can take it from here,” your voice feels small and weak.

“I can help you to the tub,” he insists and you don’t feel like fighting.

After the day you’ve had, there isn’t much fight left in you.

You work on untangling the veil and pins from your hair as Atsumu unlaces the corset. His cold fingers brush your skin, and you begin to worry he’s freezing as well. Maybe you should let him bathe first… it is his home after all.

“You should bathe and warm up first,” you turn your head over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of him as he pulls the last bit of the corset sting out. Your hands go up to catch the dress so you’re not exposed to him.

“Don’t be foolish,” he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“If you insist,” you give in, the warmth of the water sounding too good to fight him on. “Will you turn away?”

He turns away, not looking as you slip out of the wedding dress, shoes, and undergarments. You’re able to wobble to the tub, holding onto its side as you step in and settle down into the hot water. The sigh you let out is necessary, and you sink into the water to your collarbones.

“I think I can handle bathing myself for now,” you tell him and he nods.

You watch as he leaves, taking in his looming figure. Letting yourself sink under the water, covering your entire body in warmth, you take in today's events. The town must be gossiping about how you’re just like your mother. Running off and ruining your reputation even further.

Your father, your poor father. He must be a wreck missing you. Will he send people to search for you?

The part of the woods you ran into is rarely foraged or hunted. The more you think about it, the more you begin to remember the old fairytales your friends would tell you about this forest. Stories of missing children, vampires, werewolves, and even fairies floating around the woods. Maybe you’ve stumbled into one of those legends that the town’s kids will tell others. The runaway bride and the handsome spooky suitor.

You come up for air, laughing as you think about it all.

“Oh dear,” you sigh to yourself, and then you feel the presence of someone else in the room. You sit up, pulling your knees to your chest, too fast. Your ankle shoots like pins and needles, making you cry out.

Atsumu is kneeling by the tub instantly, and you try to conserve some modesty as he examines you in the tub. Your hands cover your cleavage, hoping your knees suffice for the remainder of your breasts, even with your ankle threatening to give out.

“What is it? Is it your ankle?” He asks, eyes soft and focused on your face.

You nod. “I think it’s broken.” You tell him, letting yourself stretch it out as you cover your breast with your hand.

“May I?” He asks, his hand gesturing to your ankle.

You nod.

“Let’s see,” he dips his hand into the water, and you lay back, making it easier for him to lift your leg out of the water.

His hands are cold on your skin, and you wonder how he deals with being this cool all the time. He feels around your ankle, and you notice it's slightly swollen. Your heels look torn up from the heels you wore, and you notice some of the water dripping from your heel is red.

“Please be gentle,” you squeak, worried you’ll pester him.

“I assure you,” he tells you smiling at you before his fingers begin to lightly feel out around your ankle. “I believe it’s just a sprain. No signs of a break.” He sets your foot gently back down into the tub. “Just some rest, ice, and a wrap will take care of it. I’ll see to your care while you’re here.”

“What makes you think I’m staying here?” You shoot back, suddenly irritated.

His eyes lock on yours, and that strange calmness settles over you again. Finally, you realize what that look in his eye is, it’s a hunger you’ve never seen. His whole body is tense, really, and you swear he swallows every time his eyes go to your throat. You swallow now, keeping your eyes on him and sitting back up in the tub, struggling to keep yourself covered.

“C-can I have some of that soap?” You ask, looking at the rack behind him, loaded with different soaps and salts. “And a washrag?”

He nods, turning his torso to grab a bar of lavender-colored soap and a rag from the shelf behind him. You realize as he holds it out, you have to uncover your breasts. Your heart pounds against your chest, your cheeks heat up, and your breath quickens. Some part of you wants him to look, wondering what he will say or do; but the years of your Governess teaching you that your body is only for your husband.

But what does that matter now? You ran away from your fiance. You can’t go back nor do you want to. You move your hands from your breasts, taking the soap and rag from him, lathering it after dipping it in the water.

“You have some cuts on your face, probably from the briars in the forest.” He says, not looking below your collarbone. “Would you allow me to treat them?”

You nod and scrub the mud from your ankles and the dirt on your hands. Once you get to your heels, you realize the blisters have busted and could easily become infected.

“You might need to treat my heels when you treat my ankle,” you say sheepishly.

“Anything you need,” he tells you, gathering supplies at the medicine cabinet across the bathroom.

You’re able to scrub yourself clean, even reaching out of the tub to grab a bottle of shampoo to scrub through your hair. You’re embarrassed by the amount of leaves you found. By the time Atsumu has returned to your side, you feel refreshed.

“This may sting,” he tells you, before taking the white cloth and patting it gently to your forehead.

He’s right it does sting. There must be half a dozen cuts on your face, you realize as he continues to clean the wounds. You didn’t notice it as you were running but with all the falling you did, it shouldn’t come as a surprise.

“So, will you tell me what you were running from?” He asks finally, a few moments after cleaning the cut. He drops the cloth into the small bowl where he had the cleaning solution and puts it on the shelf behind him.

He rests his elbows on the edge of the tub, cupping his face in his hands. When you look at him you can’t help but think how pretty he looks like this.

“It’s a long story,” you say, sounding exasperated.

“Trust me, I have all the time in the world.” He laughs like it’s an inside joke with himself.

“I want to dry off before I give you the gossip of my tragic life.” You laugh, smiling at him. “Can I have a robe?”

“Of course,” he leaves the bathroom, coming back with a red robe, holding it out for you.

You stand, holding your weight on your left side and trying to balance and step out of the tub. As you step out, your foot catches on the tub and you begin to fall. Atsumu catches you, your wet naked body pressed against his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes. It’'s embarrassing how many times you’ve fallen today, let alone the times he’s had to catch you.

He swallows slowly, and you watch as his features change, his eyes darkening and jaw tensing. His arms tighten around you, pressing your breasts against him tighter. His face moves towards you, and your eyes go wide.

His lips taste like iron but with a hint of sweetness. Your eyes flutter shut, and your lips move against his. You’ve never kissed anyone before, and now you see what all the girls giggle about behind their fans. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and you part yours, letting him in. His fingertips dig into your skin. You grip his shoulders, steadying yourself on him. You break away first, gasping for air, unable to sustain yourself just on him.

His eyes look even darker than before. He looks at you with that same hunger as earlier, and you feel something stir inside you that you’ve never felt before. What is this feeling? It’s like hunger but stronger and in your chest. Your heart is pounding so fast you worry it may explode.

Is this desire?

Atsumu clears his throat, “Let’s get those feet of yours treated.” He lifts you once more, carrying your wet body to the bedroom and laying you gently on the bed. “Stay here.”

Like you’re equipped to run away from him after all this…

He disappears down the hall for a few minutes, so you take your time examining the room around you. You had time before, but your mind was so foggy you wondered if there was anything you missed. Looking around, you see there are no mirrors in this room. That’s odd.

“I found some bandages. They should help keep infection away,” Atsumu tells you as he walks into the bedroom. “Also, the cleansing solution will help. I’ll clean and change your wounds daily until they’re healed.”

He sits on the bottom of the bed, taking your legs in his lap.

“It may help if you lay on your stomach.” He smiles, looking at you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you roll around, laying on your stomach and propping yourself up with your elbows.

You try to look over your shoulder, but the angle Atsumu sits at while cleaning and bandaging your heels and wrapping your right ankle so it doesn’t strain anymore. Once he’s done, you sit up, dangling your feet off the bed.

“Can I get that robe now?” You ask, a laugh passing your lips.

“Oh,” Atsumu blushes, and you smile. “Let me get that,” he goes to the bathroom, likely where he dropped it on the floor before catching you. “However, if I give you this robe…” he dangles it in front of you, just out of reach, “you have to tell me what happened to you.”

You nod and he hands you the robe. You manage to stand just fine, slipping it on and tying it around you. With the wrap on your ankle, you find the throbbing has stopped and it’s fine to put some weight on it. Sitting back down, you let out a sigh.

“So, I was supposed to get married today.” You tell him and he laughs. “What’s so funny?”

“I find you in a wedding dress, clearly distraught, and that’s not obvious?” He sits down on the bed with you, crossing his legs and resting his arms on them. His hands fold into each other and his focus seems entirely on you.

“Well,” you laugh, “you’re right.” Then, you get into the nitty-gritty.

The engagement and how it came about due to your family reputation. Then the ex whore who sat front row at your wedding. Then the decision to run because of Graham and his terrible personality. All of it comes flooding out, and you don’t know when but at one point you start crying.

“And my poor father,” you sob, “he must be so confused and worried and cross with me.”

Atsumu flexes his hand like he wants to reach out to you, but something makes him stop. You look down at your own hands, in your lap, nails biting into the skin. Sometime during the retelling of your miserable day and engagement, you began squeezing them into fists.

“I’m sure he would understand if you told him all this,” Atsumu says, his voice soft. “I can arrange for someone to take you back in the morning if you’re worried about him.”

That’s the last thing you want.

“Or not, it’s up to you.” He relents, probably reading the look on your face. “You can stay with me as long as you want.” He laughs, gesturing with his hand around the room. “I clearly have more than enough room.”

“I don’t know how to thank you, truly.” You wrap your arms around your body, a chill running through you. “I’m in your debt.”

Atsumu leans forward, and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you again. “You don’t have to thank me,” he touches your face softly, his skin still cold against yours.

You yawn and realize you need to rest, seriously rest… perhaps for a week. “Where am I sleeping tonight?”

His hand drops from your face and you swear you see a flash of disappointment on his face. “I have a room down the hall for you. I started a fire in there when you were bathing, so it should be warm by now.”

“Th-”

“You don’t need to thank me.” He interrupts, standing and holding his arm out for you to take. “Let's see if you can handle walking that far.”

You hook your arm with his, knowing you’ll need him to support your right side. He walks slowly, staying at your pace as you limp down the hall to the room he points out. It’s only a few yards away from his bedroom. The fire is roaring in the fireplace, illuminating and warming the room. He helps you onto the four-poster bed, covering you in the thick blankets.

“If you need anything, just call for me. I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you.” Atsumu smiles, his face warm and full of something you’re unsure of.

Quite frankly, you’re unsure of a lot today.

You thank him several more times, and he accepts them all with grace. He leaves the room after some time and you’re left staring up at the ceiling, wondering what tomorrow will bring. After the chaos of today, you’re sure it can’t be any worse.

–

You awake and it’s not quite dawn out. Your ankle no longer feels like it’s throbbing, so you swing your legs off the bed and stand, unbalanced at first but after a few steps you’re fine to walk on your own. You grab a chamberstick and light it with the matches you find in a drawer near the fireplace.

The hallway is dark, as you expected, but not too chilly. You walk down the long hallway until you come to the top of the stairs where Atsumu carried you in. You go past them to the other wing of the castle, which is much darker. No rooms have any glow coming from them and you wonder why. At the end of the hall, two grand doors are open and a faint fire is illuminating it.

You hold out your candle, lighting the entrance, and realize it’s a library. Fumbling around you find the switch to turn on the lights, illuminating the room. The walls are lined with hundreds, no… thousands of books. The western part of the room goes back deeper than you could have imagined, with lines and lines of shelves holding books of all shapes and colors.

The room is daunting, to say the least.

There are several tables spread out, mostly clean with a book or two, but a desk catches your eye. Against the far wall in front of a row of windows, a long mahogany desk sits with stacks of books and several opened and tabbed in multiple places from what you can see. You approach the desk, interested to find out what Atsumu has deemed so interesting himself.

The largest book is about 800 pages thick you’d guess, if not longer. It looks old, the ends of the pages frayed and yellowing. Looking at its contents you see there’s a language you can’t quite read, old English or German you presume by the looks of it. After carefully marking the page with a blank sheet of paper, you flip to another bookmark.

This page is in English, listing names and dates of birth and death. You scan the names, none you recognize of course. The name Lestar is similar to your mother’s family name, Lesair. However, something is strange about the dates… they’re too far apart. Many of them say they’re well into their third century of life before they die, some more than that. This can’t be right. Is this a fictional novel with a family tree given for context?

You turn the page, showing a family tree with portraits of each of the names. They’re all eerily beautiful, the men and women. This family was surely blessed. The family tree continues into the next few pages until it abruptly stops in the late 1790s. A small asterisk with a note reading:

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing.

What could that mean?

You shake your head, too tired to try and play games with a book. You flip back to the page it was left open on, placing the blank sheet of paper back in its stack. Turning your attention to the book to its right you see it has a family name on its spine, the same family name as the characters in the book you were flipping through.

Opening the page, it looks to be biographies of each character. What dedication must an author have to write that out for each character in their stories? It’s something you can’t imagine plotting out, but you admire it. Placing it back down, you look to the left. Another stack of books, the one on top opened to the middle of the book.

You sit on the chair, take the book, and mark the page with that same blank paper, turning to the first page.

It is not known when we first awoke, but what is known is that we are not some fairytale come to life. The reign of Vampires ended in the early 1300s, but we still persist and exist in the far corners of the world. Tucked away we may be, the bloodlines of those still around are strong.

You laugh. Atsumu is into Vampire lore?

The page continues to give a brief history of vampire beginnings and how their bloodlines decreased as centuries passed. None of this was allowed in your schools or at home with your family. Anything that mentioned the unholy was strictly burned or taken by the church.

After a few chapters, you place the book back, making a mental note to remember you’re at chapter 4 if you decide to come back to it. After you’re certain you’ve left everything exactly how you found it, you leave the library, turning the lights off as you go.

The candle lights your way back down the hall and down the steps, following the trail of light to the right wing of the castle once again, this time just on the lower level. You pass what looks to be a kitchen, and then you enter a dark room that gives you chills as you step inside. With no light switch, you struggle down a few stone steps further into what reminds you of a dungeon or jail.

“Water, please,” a hoarse voice chokes out and you jump back, managing to not scream.

You shakily turn your candle towards the voice, finding a frail man in a jail cell, his arm reaching out towards you. The scene is horrific. He looks to be your age, but something about him seems older. Perhaps being jailed will do that to a person.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have water.” You tell him, kneeling down in front of him.

His jail cell is disgusting; it takes everything in you not to gag as the smell lingers.

“The key, it’s back on the wall by the door. Please let me out.”

A chill washes over your body. Suddenly, you remember that Atsumu was burying a body when you ran into him. Now, you're finding he has someone captured in this cell. Who is he and why is he doing these things?

“Why are you here? Why did Atsumu do this?” You ask, a flood of different emotions racing through you.

“He’s psychotic,” the man hisses, rage seeping through his tone. “Please, madam, I’m begging you to set me free. Hurry before he finds out you’re here.”

You stand up, going to search for the key. Maybe this man will help lead you back to town to your father. Then perhaps your father will take you back in and help you fix the life you’ve screwed up. After finding the key, you unlock the jail cell.

“Can you help me find-” before you finish your sentence, the man has pushed you to the ground.

The candle you were holding falls to the side, illuminating only his face. His eyes are glowing red and wild. You scream, but the man covers your mouth with his hand.

“Stupid girl, I’m surprised Atsumu hasn’t already taken a bite out of you.” As he talks you notice his canines are strangely long and pointed.

Your eyes widen and you realize that this isn’t a normal man. His strength, despite looking frail, is abnormal. His eyes, his teeth, his strength… he can’t be.

Vampires aren’t real.

They’re not real.

They’re not.

“Get. Off. Her.” The sound of Atsumu’s voice burns your ears.

The man looks up from you and his eyes narrow as he hisses Atsumu’s name. He jumps off of you and towards the sound of Atsumu’s voice. You scurry to the corner towards the candle, grabbing it and holding it towards the sound of fighting.

As the light illuminates the two male figures, you see Atsumu snap the man’s neck. The body falls to the ground while the head remains in Atsumu’s hands. He drops the head when he sees you looking at him, horror clear on your face.

“-----,” your name rings off his lips.

“No!” You scoot back further into the corner, your back hitting the wall. “Don’t come near me!”

He doesn’t listen.

“Please, let me explain.” Atsumu is in front of you, kneeling in front of you and holding his hand out to you. “I’m begging you to hear me out.”

You don’t feel inclined to grab his hand this time, the feeling of urgency still racing through your body. When Atsumu had scared you, you almost felt compelled to relax and not think about what you’d witnessed. Now, everything feels clear.

“I want to know what is going on now!” You yell at him and smack his hand away from you. “How did you rip that man's head off? Why did you have him in that jail cell?”

Atsumu stands, turning away from you and walking a few steps away. “If you come with me, I’ll answer any questions you have.”

You watch as he goes, stepping over the body by the door and down the hall. After a few shaky breaths, you stand up and walk to the door leading to the hallway. You have to step over the body of the man and around the severed head. When you get in the hallway, you see Atsumu going further down into the foyer of the house.

Following him, he takes you down the only hall you haven’t explored. The room he walks into appears to be a large kitchen from the hall. You take a few moments to collect your thoughts before walking in. When you enter the room, a wave of warmth hits you from the brick oven on the wall. It seems to have been firing all night.

“Do you like tea?” He asks and you nod.

“With honey.” You sit at the counter where a long bench is under the overhang.

After a few minutes, he sets a white teacup with dark tea steeping in the cup. You let it sit for a few more, Atsumu pacing to your left by shelves full of different herbs and teas from what you can tell.

“Are you going to answer my questions?” You finally ask after taking a sip of your tea.

“That man you saw me kill, was a despicable being. He’d killed at least a dozen girls in London in ways you could not begin to fathom.” Atsumu turns to you, his eyes dark. “I was planning on letting him starve to death down there and you ruined it.”

“What was he? His eyes were glowing red and his strength was… inhuman.” You tell him. “His teeth were sharp like a…” you don’t finish the sentence.

“Say it.”

“No.”

“Say it, —--.”

“A vampire.”

He nods and your world feels like it’s been turned upside down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He assures you but you smack his hand away again.

“Don’t touch me.” You tell him, reeling away from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” He steps back, his face falling.

“So those books in your library… they’re not fiction.” He nods. “What are you?”

“You know.” He says, turning away and looking out the window into the dark sky towards the moon.

“Fuck,” for the first time in your life, you feel like you’re never going to come back from this.

Even after running away from your wedding. That could have been solved, fixed even. This? Will Atsumu even allow you to leave now that you know what he is? It’s terrifying to think you grew up not far from this immortal being, lurking in the woods you played in as a child with friends.

However, when you think about it, no one ever went missing in the village. No one was ever found suspiciously dead.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says and you narrow your eyes.

“Can you read my mind too?”

“What?” His face contours in confusion. “I can’t read minds and what do you mean by too?”

You sigh in relief and lean forward, elbows on the counter. “You have some sort of relaxation power, don’t you? It’s the only reason I didn't freak out after I saw you burying that body… I wanted to run away and scream but I felt compelled to trust you and calm down. That’s not natural. I shouldn’t have conveniently forgotten about the body until now either.”

Atsumu sits across from you, his eyes watching you. Those golden brown eyes are mesmerizing in every way and something about the golden hue is also unnatural. Everything about him is, you suppose. After all, he isn’t a creature of God’s making but perhaps the devil.

“I do have the power to compel people to my will, that is what you’ve felt.” He admits, his posture stiffening. “I’m sorry for using it on you, but I couldn’t have you running off in that panicked state blabbering about what you saw in the woods. The best case scenario is the town comes looking for me, the worst case is you end up in an asylum. I was burying the body of another vampire who I’d imprisoned for similar crimes to the man who attacked you earlier. I don’t harm humans when I can help it.”

“When you can help it?”

“I do have to feed,” he tells you, “but I try not to kill or turn them when I do it.”

You nod, taking another sip of your tea. “Are you planning on doing that to me?”

He grins, actually grins, then says, “Only if you want me to.”

Something in your stomach flutters and you’re scared of this side of yourself. Why do you have the inclination to let him?

“Something wrong?” He asks, that same grin on his stupid face. “Did that intrigue you?”

You shake your head no.

“Liar.” He stands up, taking your empty tea cup and placing it in the sink. “It can be pleasurable,” he says, running water over the cup. “Some people volunteer for the satisfaction of it all.”

Your face burns now, looking down at the counter and your hands turning into fists. Why would he be flirting with you after all of this? You move your hands to your lap, relaxing them and rubbing your thighs through your nightgown. Atsumu turns the water off and you look up as he dries the teacup with a towel, placing it back on the shelf it came from.

“I have a proposal.” He says, turning back to face you. You tilt your head in curiosity. “We no longer lie to one another. Even if it’s hard, we tell the truth. I suppose you don’t want to go back home after running away and I clearly would rather you stay here and keep my secret.”

You nod. “I agree to the terms, but I still have questions.”

“I would assume you have many. It would be strange if you didn’t.”

“What were you studying in the library? I read some pages from a few of the books, thinking they were fictional and now I’m more confused than ever.”

“Come with me. I’ll show you.” He offers his hand, and you hesitate. “Honesty, we promised.”

“I didn’t promise, I agreed to the terms.” You correct him, placing your hand in his.

He leads you out of the kitchen and down the hall further. “There are steps on either end of the halls as well, just so you know. That way you’re not running back and forth to get to the main staircase.” He leads you up a less ornate staircase, leading right into the dark library. Atsumu releases your hand and steps away, the lights illuminating the room a few moments later.

You walk over to his desk by the windows, noticing the drapes are not shut. Why did they close? Ah, it will be morning soon. Opening the largest book on the center of the desk you flip to the page with the asterisk you remember.

Lost to history is the remainder of the bloodline that carried the sun's blessing.

You read the line aloud, looking at Atsumu. “What does this mean? Who are these people?”

Atsumu lounges in his desk chair before answering. “The sun’s blessing means that these vampires were able to be out in the sun, living more normal lives than most of us. It’s unknown why they had the ability to withstand the star’s light, but they could.”

“They live among us?”

“They did before they went missing. One morning they were in their familial homes, and the next vanished as if into thin air.” He sighs. “I want to know what happened to them. It doesn’t make sense for them to uproot their lives without reason. They were a secretive clan amongst us, but there are theories.”

He gets up, as if excited, walking quickly to a shelf across the room. He takes a few moments, scanning the spines of books before grabbing an emerald green book and bringing it to the desk. When you see it, it also has several tabs on it.

“You see, there are stories of other vampires inheriting this ability as if the family gifted it to them. There’s no record of how it happens, but there has to be a way.” He turns to a page about a third of the way into the book, full of notes in the margins. “Here this author theorizes it was from something they ingested, but we can’t stomach the food humans eat, so it could have been an herb of some sort in a tea.”

“You can drink tea?” You ask, taken aback.

“Of course,” he laughs. “It’s why I keep so many.” He opens to another page. He smiles as he reads some of the lines and you lean on his desk. “Here the author suggests that they blood let and shared it with the vampires who inherited the gift.”

“Did they ingest it?” You ask and Atsumu shrugs.

“It’s against our laws to feed from another vampire, so I wouldn’t think so. But, that is a possibility. They could have injected it into themselves, but even that seems too close to feeding.” Atsumu closes the book and takes it back to the shelf it came from.

“Why are you so obsessed with them?” You ask, looking at the portraits and names once more.

Charlotta Lestar died in 1767, 343 years after her birth by your calculations. Her child, a son named James, seems to still be living. There’s no death date for him and a few others, but that could just be unknown since they all disappeared. You flip to the next page and it begins to give the family history, starting with the first recorded Lestar family member.

“Did you know any of them?” You ask when he doesn’t answer your last question.

He nods and sits back in his chair. “Our families were friends. I knew Charlotta’s children well.”

“How old are you?” You ask, partly scared to hear the answer.

“213, respectfully. You?”

“24,” you answer, feeling ashamed. All of your friends had married by 20 and you were here, still unwed and slowly turning into an old maid.

“A drop in time to me,” he smiles, taking your hand and squeezing it.

“You never told me why you were looking into the family,” you remind him.

He sighs, then rolls up the long sleeves of his shirt. Starting at his wrists and all the way up to his elbows, you notice small white patches, almost like scars. “I’ve been testing my methods with the sun. When I was a child I tried to follow James out one morning and nearly died. I have these marks all over my body.” He looks up to you and there’s something like desperation in his eyes.

“My work would be so much easier if I could go out during the day. Having to hunt and feed at night makes things harder. I can research during the day just fine, but being confined to this home drives me mad.” He continues.

“Being trapped at home is something of a nightmare,” you agree. “Can I help? I love reading and maybe some fresh eyes on the material would help you.”

“You’d want to do that?” He asks and you nod. He smiles and jumps up from his chair again. “You need to start with the histories, first. I know it’s here somewhere,” he scans a shelf by his desk. “Ah, yes, here it is.” The book he hands you looks to be recently rebounded. The pages are much older than the bindings.

“I’ll read it today.” You open the cover and look at the author, noting the name Osamu Miya, relation of Atsumu’s perhaps. “Do you rest during the day?”

“I don’t need sleep like humans.” He tells you. “I do rest, but it’s mostly to keep from having to feed too often I usually spend my days in here. The human staff I have take care of the house during the day and believe me to be one of you. I beg of you not to make them think otherwise.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Atsumu nods quickly with a smile, “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a friend.”

–

The next few weeks are full of studying, time passing quickly. Atsumu has his staff fill the kitchen with food and your dressing room with clothing. All your needs are met, but something else is pulling at you. The days you spend reading in the library with Atsumu become your reason for waking up.

You rarely think about Graham or your father. Whatever they have been doing seems to not concern you, since no one has come knocking at the castle doors. Perhaps they’ve forgotten about you, something that stings but isn’t all that bad. You hope they’ve found happiness in the way you have.

Atsumu even begins to let you in on what he does during the nights when he disappears from the castle. He’s been charged with capturing vampires who are gluttonous or vile in their killings. There are no laws about killing within their society, but they don’t like to draw attention to themselves. Atsumu handles the situations where some are. However, he stops keeping prisoners in his home.

He educates you on the histories of vampires, the different covens, clans, and even families within them. After a month you are pretty sure you’re a walking history book, but you’ve learned nothing about the Lestar family. One afternoon, you decide to ask about them.

“When will I begin helping you with the Lestar family?” You ask, putting the last book you finished on the shelf.

Atsumu looks up from his writing, his hair disheveled. “Do you feel like you know enough about my kind to begin?”

You sit across from him at the table he’s been at since last night. “I believe I am. Quiz me!”

“Question one, what do we eat?” he grins as he asks.

“Shut up, ask me something serious.” You laugh, your foot rubbing against his leg as you swing your feet under the table.

He grins at you and you pull away, mouthing a sorry to him. It’s not like you haven’t touched Atsumu before, after all, the kiss you shared was the most intimate thing you’ve experienced in your short life.

“Where should I start now?” You ask, eager to read about the family of vampires who lived among humans and walked in the sun.

“Any of the books I have on them are just fine places to start. However, if you want theories, you can read this one here,” he slides the same emerald green book from that first night in the library. “My brother wrote this, actually.”

You open the cover and see a familiar name, “Osamu Miya?” Atsumu nods. “I guess it seems you’re not the only one obsessed.”

“We all grew up together, it’s not that surprising, is it?” He laughs, resting his head on his hand. “Osamu is just better at writing than me. I send him everything I come up with and he does the same.”

“I’d like to meet him one day,” you decide.

“We’ll see about that.” He goes back to reading his book and you begin yours.

The theories his brother presents on the family are numerous, but nothing is conclusive. Everything about the family was kept so secretive that even family friends had no idea how they were able to be in the sun without being killed. The trait was passed down to family members by birth, no matter which parent had the trait.

The only vampires granted the power were those who married into the family, and most of them seemed to be random. The reasoning behind the partnerships isn’t love, power, or money. Whatever their deciding factor was, is still as unclear as the transformation itself.

By the time you’re through the book, it’s evening. You yawn and your stomach growls. Despite the snacks the staff brought you throughout the day, you’re starving.

“Would it be weird if you joined me for dinner? I know you can’t eat, but it gets lonely in the dining room.” It feels awkward asking, but after a month of silent dinners, you’re not sure you can stand another.

“I’d love to join you. I’ll have tea while you eat.” He smiles, standing from his chair. His clothes are as disheveled as his hair. “If you’ve been lonely, why didn’t you ask me sooner?”

You shrug, “I didn’t want to bother you more than I already have.”

Atsumu halts walking, stopping atop the stairs. “You’ve never been a bother to me,” he takes your hand. “I’ve been delighted to have you in my home.”

Your face heats up and you bite your bottom lip to keep the smile from growing too wide. “I’ve had a better time with you than I’ve had in the last ten years of my life.”

Atsumu steps closer to you, his hand caressing your cheek. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, but you’re unable to speak.

“I hope you know what you mean to me.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and your stomach flutters.

You grab his waist, pulling his body closer to yours. “Atsumu,” you whine.

“What is it?” He asks, his lips grazing your forehead. You whine again. “You have to tell me what you want.”

“Kiss me,” you say after a few moments.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he kisses you quickly, his lips moving against yours with a hunger you’ve never experienced.

His lips taste sweet now, but the tinge of iron is still there. You wonder when the last time he fed was, a pang of jealousy washing through you. Your fingers grip him tightly, your body flush with his. His tongue teases your lips and you part your mouth, letting him in.

He pulls away, resting his forehead on yours, eyes on your lips. “I want to show you so many things,” he whispers. “Will you let me?”

You nod.

“I want you to say it.”

“Please, show me everything.”

Atsumu grins, picking you up in his arms, your gown riding up around your thighs as you hook your legs around him. You kiss him again, biting his bottom lip and making him growl. Before you know it, he’s slamming his bedroom door shut and dropping you down on his bed.

“What do you want me to do?” He asks, crawling on the bed on top of you.

“Touch me,” you breathe out.

“Have you ever?”

You shake your head no and something flashes in his eyes.

He leans down, kissing you and sliding your dress up your thighs. “You can tell me to stop whenever you want,” he whispers, kissing down your throat.

Your heart races, knowing how easily he could drain you of your blood now is something you never expected to worry about. Each nip of his teeth at your skin reminds you of it. You begin to feel too hot, desperate for him to rip this godforsaken gown off of you.

“Get this dress off of me,” you beg, writhing under Atsumu.

He sits up, his eyes wild. He pulls you up into a sitting position before flipping you onto your stomach to undo the many buttons down your back. You feel the cooler air hit your skin and whimper as Atsumu’s fingers drag down your skin. Undressing in this gown isn’t easy but his hands on you is worth it.

By the time you’re left in the slip you wore under the dress, you’re desperate to feel his kisses again. He smiles at you, standing by the bed and looking you up and down. Your cheeks heat and you want to cover yourself, but remember the first night you met him he saw every part of you anyway.

His hands grip your thighs, pulling you down to the edge of the bed. He kneels in front of the bed, licking his lips once before kissing your inner thigh. You gasp at the sensation, chills running up your spine and curling your toes. You sit up on your elbows, watching him kiss up your right thigh, pushing the slip up over your waist.

He looks at you as if he’s looking for permission and you nod.

The first touch of his tongue on your cunt is overwhelming. His tongue continues to move on you, his hands gripping your thighs while he laps at you. You moan, unable to keep any form of composure. Your fingers dig into the sheets as his tongue teases your clit. You fall back, unable to watch any longer, wanting to focus solely on the feeling.

He stops for a moment and your eyes flutter open, seeing him suck on his own middle finger. He grins as he sees you watching him. He slowly teases your entrance with the finger, leaning back down to suck on your clit. You close your eyes again, whimpering and bucking your hips. As his finger presses into you, you still, take in the sensation. Your mouth falls open and you breathe out.

“Shh,” Atsumu hushes you as you begin to whimper. “It’ll start feeling good and not foreign, I swear.”

He slowly pumps his finger out of you and back in, curling it inside you as he goes. He was so right, oh so right. You moan, the feeling sending shockwaves through you. When you open your eyes, Atsumu is hovering over you, his finger still pumping inside you.

“See,” he grins, “feels good, right?”

You nod between moans and reach for Atsumu above you. He leans down, kissing your lips and teasing you with his tongue. He tastes like you, his lips coated with your arousal.

“Do you want more?” He asks and you nod. “When will you learn to use your words?”

“More, please,” you whine, looking up expecting to see his brown eyes but they’ve been replaced with the glowing gold you’ve only seen when he’s been hungry.

Your stomach flips and the fear you feel is nothing compared to the pleasure of his second finger pumping into you with the first. He stretches you, his fingers working in tandem to bring you feelings you can’t explain, leaving you breathless. Something in your stomach snaps and you feel yourself coming to an end, ready to let go.

“Cum for me,” he whispers against your ear, his breath tickling you.

As you climax, you grip onto Atsumu, holding his hand on your right and his arm on your left. It’s unlike any pleasure release you’ve ever had. What you used to do desperately at night at home with your fingers is nothing compared to this. He chuckles as you come down, looking at him with glossy eyes. He kisses your forehead, praising you with quiet words and pulling his fingers out of you.

“Lay back,” you demand, sitting up and pushing against his pillows.

He looks pleasantly surprised, your abruptness is not something he was expecting. He lays down against the pillows, spreading his arms and parting his legs enough for you to crawl between them. You smile at him before pushing them back together and sitting on his lap, your cunt sensitive against his trousers.

His arms wrap around you and you kiss him, holding his face between your hands. “I want to learn to please you too,” you tell him.

He smiles, biting his bottom lip before speaking. “What do you think you should do?”

You take in a shaky breath, remembering some erotic scenes from some books stashed in the back of his library that you snuck into your room. “I think I know,” you admit, “but I want you to tell me what you need.”

“You. You’re all I need.”

The feeling pangs at your heart but you refuse to give in to it and name it.

You kiss him feverishly before unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his neck, and working your way down his body. He was right, he’s covered in these white splotches. They scar most of his skin, all the way down to his waist. Settling between his legs, you unbutton the three buttons on his pants, noticing the tenting as you go.

He holds his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches you, his chest noticeably moving as he breathes. He lifts his hips and you shimmy the pants down over his waist and off his legs, tossing them on the floor to your right. His underwear is tight, the bulge prominent now.

“Why do you look so nervous?” He teases, so you stick your tongue out at him. “I bet that would feel nice on my cock,” he tells you, leaning forward and grabbing your face. “Don’t you want a taste?”

You nod, kissing him again before pushing his chest back so he lays back against the pillows once more. He tenses as you feel his cock through his underwear. He closes his eyes and titls his head back, enjoying your touch.

Reaching up with your other hand, pulling at the waistband and pulling them down over his hips. Reading about something for the first time is nothing like seeing it for the first time. Everything about Atsumu is infuriatingly beautiful, and his cock is no exception. You take it in your hand and timidly stroke it once.

“Fuck,” Atsumu moans, his eyes still closed and head tilted back.

You smile at his response and lean down, taking the head of his cock in your mouth. He moans louder as your tongue swirls around the tip.

“Just like that,” he whimpers. “Use your hand like this,” he opens his eyes and places his hand over yours; showing you what to do.

Your hand gets wet from your spit dribbling down from where your lips meet his cock, making it easier to stroke him. He lets go of your hand and you’re able to learn on your own now. Every sound Atsumu makes encourages you further. Soon enough you’re able to take more than half his length in your mouth without worrying you’re going to hurt him by doing something wrong.

He thrusts up into your mouth, forcing you to take him all in and you choke, pulling away and coughing.

“I’m so sorry, I just lost control,” he sits up cupping your cheeks.

He kisses your lips, pulling away and a trail of drool follows, still connecting your lips. You grin and break it with your finger.

“You don’t have to be sorry, I’m okay. You can’t break me.”

He chuckles, “If only that were true, darling.”

You giggle, kissing him again and climbing on top of him, straddling his thighs. He grabs your hips, pulling you further up his body, pushing your hips down so your cunt grinds against his cock. You whimper against his lips, feeling his length against you. The tip of his cock prods at your entrance and you break away from the kiss.

“Do you want to stop?” He asks looking up at you.

“No, God no.” You shake your head. “I-” you stutter, stopping yourself.

He sits up closer to you, your bodies flush with each other. “You can tell me,” he says.

“I want you.”

His eyes flash with something you can’t read, disappointment maybe? No, it couldn’t be that, could it? You’re saying exactly what he wants to hear even if it's not what you thought originally. He couldn’t know that, though.

“It’s going to hurt at first,” he warns you and you nod. “Go at your own pace,” he kisses your cheek, laying back and letting you take control.

You sink down on him about an inch, letting yourself get used to the stretch. His cock feels so much bigger in your cunt than when it was in your mouth. You bite down hard on your lip, holding in the sounds of discomfort as you sink further down on him.

“Don’t do that you’ll bleed,” Atsumu’s thumb pulls your lip from your teeth.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper and sink as far down as you can, sitting in Atsumu’s lap and taking him in entirely.

“Don’t ever,” he rasps, “apologize while taking my cock in you like that.”

His hands move to your hips, his fingers digging into your ass. You use your knees to rise up again, feeling his cock drag against the walls inside of you. It doesn’t feel as good as his fingers, the pain overwhelming you.

“It’s okay,” he hushes your cries. “Go at your pace.”

You try again, sinking down, rising up, and sinking down again. You’re used to the feeling now and even begin to feel good as his cock reaches further inside of you than his fingers. You let out a moan the fifth time you came down on him, finally feeling what you felt before.

“There you go,” he encourages you, using his hands to help you ride him.

He pulls you down by your face, kissing you and beginning to thrust up into you slowly. Your thighs shake but you hold onto Atsumu’s shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. That familiar feeling from before creeps up on you, and you whimper, clenching around him.

He flips you onto your back, pulling out of you and smiling at you wildly. “You can’t cum yet.”

You nod, sitting up and kissing him and pulling him down with you, desperate to have him in you again. He pulls away and grins.

“Are you greedy already? I told you I wanted to show you many things.” He teases, his fingers playing with your clit.

You gasp, “We have other nights for that. I need you now.”

He laughs, moving closer to you and spreading your legs wider. He pushes into you, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. The sounds that leave your mouth ring in your ears, but you try focusing on Atsumu’s cues. His eyes focus on you when you open yours, and that feeling in your stomach builds back up.

“Tsumu,” you whine, slurring his name.

“That’s music to my ears,” he moans. “Need to cum darling?”

You nod. “Wanna cum.”

“Cum with me,” he whispers against your lips and you do.

It feels like waves across your body, the first strong and fierce. The second ringing through your body and lingering as Atsumu cums inside of you. You hold onto Atsumu as if he’s your lifeline, both of you breathing hard and heavy.

He kisses your forehead before rolling to the side of the bed and pulling you close to him. You cuddle up to him, taking in the last hour. He stares up at the ceiling, his breath evening out sooner than yours. You tilt your head up looking closer at his expression.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask.

“Honestly?”

“We promised to be truthful.”

He smiles. “I’m thinking about how many more rounds I could take you before you’re too sore for more.”

You smack his chest and sit up. “I think we’ve reached that limit.”

He grins, sitting up on his elbows. “I guarantee you’ll be begging me for more before you even finish your dinner tonight.”

“You’re awfully full of yourself,” you giggle, pulling your knees to your chest.

“You’re also full of me,” he grins, kissing your temple and getting off the bed. “Come, bathe with me. Then I’ll make you dinner.”

“You’ll make me dinner?”

“I can read a recipe book and figure it out. Besides, there’s probably something edible in case I ruin everything.”

You laugh, taking his hand and following him to the bathroom.

The bath is always relaxing, but a bath with Atsumu is anything but. He’s constantly dumping water on you and splashing you like a child. The few moments when he relaxes and lets you lay against his chest, you relish.

At some point, you fall asleep in the tub against Atsumu. You awake in his bed, under the cover of his thick duvet. Atsumu is nowhere to be found, so you find a shirt of his from a drawer and slip it on. Walking down the hall, you see a faint light coming from the wing where the kitchen is.

“-----,” your name on his lips sends chills down your spine. “I think I’ve made you a sandwich.”

He presents in front of you something that does resemble a sandwich, but the ingredients are questionable. You still take a bite and swallow it. It isn’t the worst thing you’ve ever had. Your father hired a terrible cook for a few weeks before you insisted on getting a new one after a bout of food poisoning.

“How is it?”

“Honestly?”

He nods.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever had,” you laugh, putting the half down on the plate. “We should stick to what your staff prepares.”

He looks defeated but grins anyway. “You should go back to bed. I’ll have a big breakfast sent to our room in the morning.”

“Our room?” You smile, biting your bottom lip.

He nods. “I’ll join you after I clean up. I’ll take tonight off.”

You smile at him before heading back towards his room. Most nights he spends them hunting down other vampires who’ve committed crimes. His determination and commitment to his task are unlike most of the men you’ve known.

Atsumu’s room is warm from the fire, but the flames are starting to die down. You throw a log on the fire and crawl back into bed. Atsumu keeps his promise, coming to lay in bed with you soon after. You talk about your life with him, telling him everything you’ve been holding onto. He offers nothing but a listening ear, just what you like.

–

The weeks that follow are much the same as the ones before, except your nights are full of more and more learning. Atsumu pleases you in ways you’ve never imagined possible with his fingers, tongue, and cock. However, you begin to become concerned with how often his eyes seem to turn golden with hunger.

“Tsumu?” You chime one night after a long session with him between your legs.

“Hmm?” He hums.

“When was the last time you fed?” You ask, sitting up on the bed and playing with his hair from where he lays in your lap.

“It’s been a while.” He answers, looking up at you, his eyes now golden once again. “I probably should tonight.”

“Who do you feed from?” The jealousy is in your voice.

“There are some people who volunteer for the pleasure of it. I think I told you this before. In London, there’s a home where my kind likes to go when we’re hungry.” Atsumu’s honesty doesn’t do anything to curb your feelings.

“I don’t want you to go there,” you tell him, keeping up with the honesty you swore to keep. “Use me,” you offer.

“-----, are you sure?” He asks, and you nod.

You pull your hair from your neck, revealing the supple skin.

Atsumu laughs, “I could kill you feeding from there.”

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Where do you feed from?”

He sits up, taking your arm and pointing to your wrist. “Lay back, it will hurt at first.”

You lay back, looking up at the ceiling and then at Atsumu. He smiles at you as he hovers over your body. His lips press against yours and he mumbles some reassuring words. He slowly brings your wrist up to his mouth, and you see the flash of his fangs before they seep into your skin.

Crying out, you instinctively pull away but Atsumu keeps your arm still. The pain turns to an unimaginable wave of pleasure, not unlike the way he makes you cum every night. You moan, actually moan after a minute of it. The burning is intense, but not unmanageable. After another minute, he pulls away from your wrist, blood dripping from his lips.

When you look in his eyes, something has changed, and not just the color of them. He moves off of you, walking quickly to the bathroom. You sit up, checking your wrist and admiring the two small red puncture wounds. He tosses you a bandage from the bathroom entryway.

Something is wrong.

“Atsumu?” You lay the bandage down and get off the bed, your head spinning as you do.

“Please, lay back down.” He moves to catch you, but you fall back onto the bed.

“What’s wrong?” He shakes his head at your voice.

“I have something I have to do.” He rushes out of the room and you don’t see him for the rest of the night.

Sleep doesn’t come. You stay up all night, worried that you did something to change his feelings for you. Did you taste bad?

Can blood taste bad?

You pace for a while in front of his windows, waiting for dawn to come. As the first spots of daylight begin to show you see Atsumu enter the castle. You rush down the hall and down the steps.

When he sees you, there’s not a glimpse of joy on his face.

“Ats-”

“I think you should go back to your father.” He interrupts you and you feel like the castle is crumbling in on you.

“But… Atsumu… why?”

“I think it's for the best. I’ve called for a carriage. You leave in an hour.” He rushes up the stairs and towards the library.

The sound of the doors slamming shut echoes through the castle as you fall to your knees. You’re not sure how long you lie there, perhaps for the full hour. You can’t even cry it hurts so bad. He’s betrayed the honesty you promised to one another.

“Madam, the carriage is waiting for you,” Arthur, Atsumu’s butler, taps on your shoulder. “I’m sorry, but I must ask that you go.”

You nod, pulling yourself together and walking to the carriage. You’re numb the whole ride home. It takes about an hour for you to arrive at the doorstep of your father’s estate. When you step off the carriage, your father isn’t there to greet you, but instead it’s Graham.

You step back, nearly tripping over the carriage steps.

“Where on earth have you been?” The sound of his voice makes you want to vomit.

“Where is my father?” You ask, stepping towards him, but keeping more than enough distance between him.

“He’s in London, searching for you. I’ve been maintaining the family home while you’ve been what? Whoring yourself to stay afloat?” Graham laughs, watching as the carriage leaves before he insults you.

“Graham, I swear to God if that whore of yours is in my home, I will have you castrated.” You remember the mistress he keeps in London. If he’s been here, she probably has too.

“I’m not stupid enough to bring her here with all the attention you’ve brought us. Do you know what you’ve done? What you’ve caused?” His words ring with hatred. “We told half the town you had a breakdown just to keep your name from being ruined! We tried to defend you!”

“Why are you even here? I thought it would be clear I didn’t want to marry you by running away!” You yell, frustrated with the way your life has gone in the last four months.

“You trifling whore, how dare you raise your voice with me,” he steps closer to you, his anger reaching its peak. “After all the trouble you’ve caused, you’re not going to treat me this way. You’re lucky I decided to stay engaged to you and that you still have a future.”

“I’m never going to marry you, Graham. Never.” You walk past him and into your father’s home, slamming and locking the door behind you.

The staff in the house scurry around, looking at you as if they’ve seen a ghost. Perhaps some of them thought you had run off and died. None of them stop you from going to your old room, and none of them stop you from tearing everything off the walls. You scream, throw things, and even toss old dresses out the window.

If they want a madwoman, you’ll give it to them.

Several hours later, your father's carriage pulls up. You watch him run into the house and hear his clumsy footsteps leading to your room. He bursts in the door, calling your name in a sob. You let him hug you and cry on your shoulder. You let him beg you to never go away again.

Everything feels numb now that you’ve been shown the life you want and can’t have it.

After half an hour, he leaves you to your destroyed room, mentioning he needs to discuss things with Graham. If he even tries to plan another marriage, you’ll run away and never look back; and in the opposite direction of Atsumu’s castle.

When you’re called for dinner, you don’t bother dressing. You go in your worn dress from the night before, your wrist still bandaged from Atsumu’s fangs. The dining room is too warm from the fire and the warm spring day. Your father sits at the head of the table and Graham beside him, both of them engaged in the conversation they’re having.

As you sit, your father comments on your appearance and you glare at him.

“Sweetie, he’s just concerned,” Graham’s facade makes you want to rip his hair out.

“We think it would be good to spend the spring and summer in London. A change of scenery for you, and perhaps you can make time to plan a new ceremony for the fall. They have great doctors in London, as well.” Your father’s optimism is something you’ve always loved, but in your mental state now, you just want him to shut up and give up on you.

“I’m not planning another wedding.” You tell him. “I would like to go to London though.”

“Then we will go in a week! I’ll have new dresses sent to our house there, you won’t need to bring anything but yourself.” Graham tells you and your father as the staff sets your food in front of you.

The thought of putting anything in your stomach makes you want to vomit. You sit there through dinner, listening but not adding to the conversation. Graham seems to have your father wrapped tighter around his finger than before, and you don’t blame him. You left, after all. Once dessert is served, you dismiss yourself and head to your room.

Sinking into the covers, you finally allow yourself to cry.

–

London in the spring is something you used to love. Your mother always dragged you and your father from your country home to the city for the peak season, going to shops, cafes, and all the music halls she could find. After she left, you quit going altogether.

Stepping into Graham’s house feels surreal. All week, you argued with him whenever your father was gone, listening to his empty threats. You threatened to have his food poisoned at one point, but he just laughed. At some point, you stopped talking to him altogether.

“Your room is on the third floor, the second on the right,” Graham tells you, dropping bags down in the foyer.

“Thanks,” you mutter, walking up the steps and not looking back to him or your father.

You hear mutters of worry about your sanity, concerns about where you’ve been all winter, and more things you can’t care to remember. The staircase is steep, but you take your time. By the time you’re in your room, you feel like he picked this room just to exhaust you. He must have noticed you haven’t been eating most nights.

There is a nice view of the city from your room, at least.

It’s past noon now, and there’s discussion about going out to dinner tonight to change things up, but you know you’ll fight tooth and nail before having to be reintroduced into society. Your father begs you to dress, telling you he’ll do anything to make you happy.

To get him to shut up, you agree.

Dressing with the assistance of one of Graham’s maids, you find yourself in a pale blue dress, the color awfully similar to the trim of your wedding dress. Perhaps he likes this color. Perhaps you’ll ruin it for him. When you make it to the foyer, your father is still not there, leaving you uncomfortably silent with Graham standing by the door.

“You look decent for once,” he comments and you turn your head. “This could be easy, you know. A business transaction for us both.”

“I’d rather die than marry you.” You finally look at him, really look at him for who he is.

“That it seems.” He sighs. He steps towards you, his hand reaching out and moving a loose strand of hair away from your face.

His hand is warm on your skin and it makes you cringe. He steps back, looking at you from the head down. He almost looks like he’s working on a puzzle, trying to figure out what piece of you to place next.

“I can be kind. We could have a satisfying life, you and I both. I swear to be faithful to you until we have a few children if you do the same. You can spend money as you please. We can even live separately if you wish.” Graham really wants your father's money if he’s offering this.

Before you can answer him, your father joins you in the foyer. “I hope this restaurant you’ve chosen is a good one, boy.” He claps Graham on the back of the shoulder and laughs.

“Oh, you know I always pick good ones. Why else would I want to be with your daughter.”

You scoff and roll your eyes.

They both ignore you.

The walk to the restaurant is not unpleasant, the umbrella you carry covers your face from strangers who may be looking at you. Once you arrive, they seat you outside. You fold up the umbrella, leaning it against your chair, and sitting down. Graham and your father continue talking about the horse race they’ve seemed to bet on for the upcoming weekend, but you watch the people walking by.

Your mind begins to wander to Atsumu and your heart hurts. You never were able to be completely honest with him either. You kept what you felt to yourself.

However, he completely shut you out without giving any explanation. He broke the trust first. He never asked you how you felt and if he had, you may have told him.

“Would you like that, sweetie?” Graham asks and you furrow your brows.

“What?” You ask. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Your father suggested I show you the block after dinner. He’s planning on joining the gentlemen at the next table at the club tonight after dinner.” Graham tells you.

“I suppose I’ll walk with you,” as if you have a choice now.

Dinner is served not long after, and you manage to down a few vegetables and a bite of your chicken. Graham and your father have both given up on commenting on your eating habits, which you’re grateful for. It’s made it easier to manage. Once it’s over, you regret taking the few bites that you did. You have to stomach Graham for the next hour before you make it home.

At least the days are longer now, so if he tries anything, there will most likely be a witness.

He takes your hand and places it on his arm, portraying the scene most Londoners expect. A couple in the spring, out for a stroll. He talks about the town, telling you about his favorite restaurants and music halls. He tells you he wants to take you to a play when you notice a name that you recall.

“What is this place?” You stop in front of Lestar Manor. The sign is large and imposing with the name of the vampires who were blessed by the sun.

“It’s almost like a joke,” he says. “The manor was abandoned and people swear it’s haunted now. I’ve never learned much more about it.”

“I want to go look inside.”

“Are you serious?” He frowns. “You refuse to do activities for a week, but want to explore a haunted mansion.”

“So what? Let me explore it!”

“We’re going home!” He says sternly, grabbing your arm.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, pulling away.

“For the love of all that is holy, stop acting this way and just do what’s good for you for once in your stupid life.” Graham raises his voice and you push him away from you.

“If you touch me again, I’m going to scream.” You warn him.

As you look around there is no one around, but you’re sure someone will hear you. Graham’s eyes go dark, his grin gone and his face contoured in anger. He steps towards you and you step back, but he’s faster than you.

His grip on your arm hurts, so you begin to yell out. His hand clamps around your mouth and your eyes go wide.

“Shut the fuck up, you stupid whore,” he hisses.

“Let go of her,” a figure yells from the Lestar Manor.

The voice makes your stomach drop and you try to pull away from Graham. As you turn your face, you see Atsumu standing in the shade of the Manor, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Who are you to tell me what to do with my woman?” Graham spits back, letting go of your face.

“Atsumu, go away.” You breathe out, your eyes welling up.

He has no business butting into your life after sending you away to this fate.

“Graham,” Atsumu hisses, stepping too close to the edge of the shade for your liking.

“Graham, let’s go. Please,” you beg him, tugging him away from Atsumu.

He smacks your hand away, missing your hand and hitting your cheek. You fall down on the sidewalk, catching yourself with your hands and scraping them.

“Bastard!” Atsumu yells and before you know it, he’s launched himself at Graham, his skin vulnerable to the sun.

“Atsumu! No!” You scream, watching as he punches Graham in the jaw.

You expect his skin to start burning, or for him to catch on fire, or turn to dust. All your reading on vampires, none of it gave a solid answer to what happens when they go in the sun. Almost as if it was taboo to mention it anywhere.

Nothing happens, in fact, Atsumu stands up over Graham’s body and looks at you with a smile. For whatever reason, he’s not dying in the sun. Did he discover something in the week that you were gone? Is that why he was in the Lestar Manor? Or is that the feeding house he mentioned before?

Either way, you don’t want to hear from him.

He broke your heart.

You turn to run away from him and from Graham. As you take your first step, Atsumu catches your arm, and you turn to push him away. He pulls you into his arms instead, holding you against your body.

“Atsumu, let go of me,” you sob, not pulling away but instead going limp in his arms.

He picks you up, carrying you into the Manor and holding you against his chest as you sob. You hate him. You love him. You want him dead. You want him to give you the life you’ve always wanted.

He doesn’t compel you to calm down, he just holds you as you cry. It takes a good ten minutes for you to gather yourself in his arms before you’re able to look up at him. His eyes aren’t glowing, instead, they’re the warm brown you love so much.

“I hate you,” you whisper.

“We told each other we would be honest with one another.” He shakes his head.

“Atsumu,” you whine, “I love you more than life itself.”

“I love you, —--,” he tells you. “You saved my life.”

“What?” You frown. “You just saved me from that horrid Graham.”

“Your blood…” he replies and you begin connecting the dots.

“Lesair, Lestar… You don’t think that my family is?”

He shrugs, “We need to find out the history of your family line before I can draw any conclusions... But since the night I drank from you, I’ve been able to walk in the sun. I was going to come find you and beg you to forgive me, but I needed to stop here first to collect some more books. That’s when I heard your voice and I saw him-”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m just happy to be with you again.” You interrupt him.

“I promise, I’m never letting you go now.” He tells you before kissing your lips.

#atsumu miya smut #atsumu smut #atsumu miya x reader #miya atsumu smut #miya atsumu x reader #tw monsterfucking #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #tw religious themes

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

propinquity

Pairing: bodyguard!Price x fem!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Tags/Warnings: smut; nsfw; dom!price; top!price; p-in-v sex; kinda an illicit relationship; age gap (still legal and consenting tho); AU world; oral sex (female receiving); outside sex; praise kink; penetrative sex

Summary: Being the daughter of the prime minister doesn't always come with privileges - especially after a terrorist organization publicly declares its intention of taking the lives of your family because of your father's decisions. The situation gets even worse when you have to deal with a bodyguard who is anything but pleasant to be around.

A/N: This is basically an AU - the premise is that Captain Price is an ex-SAS soldier who retired and became a bodyguard instead of creating TF 141.

masterlist • faq • AO3 • ko-fi

The hand that was still holding you firmly against the tree trunk moved to your thigh, squeezing it reassuringly before he replaced his tongue with his fingers, lips moving upwards to eagerly lap on your painfully aching clit.

He brought you to a place of exquisite bliss. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of passion. You were lost in the moment, at this moment, and nothing else mattered.

The thing about having a permanent, over 180 centimeters-tall shadow is that it was not entirely familiar to you and made you feel peculiar. People would look twice when they saw you and him.

Price, as you'd come to address him, wasn't particularly fond of you either. He knew this line of work would mean meeting a variety of new people on a regular basis. What he didn't sign up for was, in his words, "babysitting a crude birdie who happened to be potty trained just yesterday".

There was no love-hate relationship nor any need for it; John was there purely as your protector, a man hired to guard your body and for the right remuneration, he was willing to do just about anything to make sure you were kept safe.

His presence awakened a feeling of safety within you. Despite his at-times harsh behavior, he always seemed to take care of you just the way you needed.

Sitting at your kitchen island, you looked at your dad in disbelief, feeling a sense of hopelessness but still clinging to a small thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could somehow change his mind. You had a pretty clear idea of what the outcome of this conversation would be before you even asked him, but the faintest spark of hope kept you from giving up.

"Dad, you can't possibly be serious about this," you groaned at the laptop screen, watching with exasperation as he exhaled heavily and slowly straightened his back.

"Darling," his voice was calm, a little raspy from his long day at work, "it isn't safe for you and you know it."

"But everyone is going there. My whole class is gonna be there. It's literally in the middle of the woods, do you seriously believe that some terrorists are about to attack me there? It's been weeks since that letter and nothing happened, it might even be a hoax."

Unfortunately, your complaints were not taken into consideration as you stared at your father with pleading eyes.

"I'm not going to repeat myself. This is my final decision and you are not permitted to go."

"Didn't you say that I should enjoy my university life to the fullest? Because in the last few weeks, the only places I've been to are my flat and classes. And this bloke," you pointed at Price, who was until this moment casually leaning against the counter with a cuppa in his hands, "is staring at my back 24/7".

Price, clad in a simple grey shirt tucked into his dress pants, raised an eyebrow and glanced at you, taking in the situation with a slow and calming breath. He paused for a moment before taking a sip of his tea, allowing the warmth of the liquid to soothe his nerves.

"You're right," your father gave a knowing nod before his eyes shifted away from you, "John?"

"Yes, sir," Price answered, his voice low and questioning. He put the cup on the kitchen island and made his way closer to face his boss, his strides slow yet confident. One arm was carelessly draped over the back of your chair while the other came to rest on the kitchen island for support. The faint smell of cigars and sandalwood, so specifically his, filled the air and indulged your senses as you felt his arm brush your shoulder. A sudden wave of warmth and comfort washed over you as you realized just how close he was.

Having been mere centimeters away from you, you looked up into his face, his freshly trimmed and styled beard looking so incredibly soft. You always wanted to sneak a touch to find out if it was as soft as it appeared or if he was one of those men with a beard full of harsh and prickly hairs.

How would he feel between your legs? Was he a man who took pride in his skillful use of his tongue, or was he someone who was eager to get his cock wet? Most of your past partners weren't particularly enthusiastic about performing oral sex on you...you blamed it on the fact that they were young. You had heard from your friend that older men were usually more traditional and preferred to be more generous with their tongues. You couldn't help but question - was Price one of those gentlemen?

Hearing your name fall from John's lips made you realize just how tightly you had clenched your thighs together, face dangerously close to the crook of his neck.

It's just hormones, just a surge of estrogen and progesterone that want me to breed, you shook your head in a desperate attempt to clear your befouled mind.

"You're staying in your bedroom tonight," your father said, "John will make sure you don't leave your room."

Sucking in your dry lips, you remained silent for a moment, your mind spinning with forbidden fantasies, the kind that left you feeling guilty and excited all at once.

"John, just make sure my daughter won't leave. I have a feeling she will be a troublemaker."

"I can handle a troublemaker, sir," your bodyguard said as you tried your best not to show any sigh of annoyance out of respect for your father.

"Good to know. Have a good night you two," with those words, the screen went completely black.

"Love you too, dad," you mumbled as you turned around, slipping under John's inviting arm and taking your keys.

"Where do you think you're going, birdie," John stepped slowly around the kitchen island, his eyes never leaving your figure. His arms were crossed over his chest as if to challenge you to a battle of wills.

"Going to the party," you mirrored his stance, "look, Price," taking a step closer and unfolding your arm, you stared into his eyes, "I am well aware that you are doing this for the pay grade. You don't really care about me but c'mon, you were young once too, I bet. Don't tell me you've never been to a party. I mean, we all have a right to have some fun, don't you think? If a party is what it takes to make this job easier, then why not? We all deserve to take a break once in a while, and I don't think it will hurt anyone if I just go and have some fun."

"My personal life is none of your bloody business," Price growled as he snatched the keys from your grasp.

"Now go to your room," he ordered, "and don't make me drag you there again."

"Unbelievable, Price, just unbelievable," you groaned in frustration and stomped your way to the bedroom, practically slamming the doors in anger to make it perfectly clear to Price just how irritated he had made you.

You laid down on the bed and listened to the sound of Price starting the shower. An idea popped in your head as you walked to the doors and tried to open them but they were locked.

You let out a loud, angry scream as you punched the doors a few times with all your might, your rage beginning to build up inside. He had really locked you in there.

Your hand throbbed from the constant pummeling it had taken as you slumped against the door, alone. Everyone else was at the party, enjoying their drinks, but here you were once more, cooped up in your flat with Price, unable to partake.

As you sat there, your chin resting on your knees, your gaze gradually shifted to the window. That should work.

“Screw you, John Price.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bonfire danced before you as you stared into its flames, the taste of cheap alcohol lingering in your mouth bitterly, a reminder of the good whiskey, brand unknown, that Price kept in one of the cupboards, out of your reach - or so he thought. You remembered the feeling of that whiskey and how it filled you with warmth and a sense of contentment, something that this cheap alcohol could never give you.

The first time you chanced upon the bottle of scotch tucked away in the back of your cupboard was quite accidental. You suspected Price of being a drinker but had never actually seen him with a glass of liquor in his hand. However, while you were on the hunt for some sweets to satisfy your craving, you stumbled upon the half-empty bottle of scotch. Naturally, you couldn't resist pouring yourself a glass every now and then, and were certain Price had noticed you drinking it, yet he chose not to bring it up for some reason.

You wondered what he was doing, something you hadn't done before. This was the first time since you had met that you were without your shadow. It made you feel strangely uncomfortable, knowing his presence was missing and the sense of comfort he had brought you was gone, replaced by uncertainty. Something you had once found strange and unexpected in your life, but now had become a part of it, something you had grown fond of.

What will he do once he finds out the truth? Once he realizes you are gone? Your wandering thoughts made you check your phone absent-mindedly.

No missed calls, no unread messages.

"Do you think if we say his name three times, he will show up," your friend suggested, "like Bloody Mary?"

"Don't even joke about that," you let out a chuckle, sipping on your drink.

"John Price," another girl sitting by your side said, throwing her arm around you with a warm and friendly embrace.

"John Price," she repeated his name with a wide grin.

Something inside you shifted, a deep-seated emotion expanding and stretching through your chest like a tightly wound elastic band being slowly lengthened. Hearing your bodyguard's name coming from her mouth filled your body with a feeling you couldn't even begin to put into words. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you watched her repeat his name for the third time, the emotion in your chest slowly stretching and winding its way through your body.

A body squeezed itself between you and your girl friend. With a slight jump of your heart, you quickly glanced over to see the face of a boy you recognized from your classes, but one whom you had no idea who he was. He was someone you saw on a regular basis but had never spoken to.

"Hi there, ladies."

The moment his lips opened, you could smell the sharp, pungent scent of alcohol emanating from his mouth. You crinkled your nose in disgust, feeling his hand on the lower part of your back, like a vice-grip, as if attempting to keep you from running away from the situation, "How are we tonight? Are we having a good time?"

"Not anymore," your friend said standing up, "gonna grab us more drinks, be right back."

As you were left alone there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable, the desire to leave grew stronger as his hand kept lowering further down your back.

"Wanna go for a walk?" his lips brushed your ear as his hand rested on your bare thigh, the skirt feeling far too short as his fingers trailed their way up your leg.

"Not really, no," you choked out, putting your hand on his to stop his assault on your thigh.

"C'mon, just a fifteen-minute walk's all we need," he smiled, and in any other situation, you would have felt drawn to him, maybe even thought he was cute, but right now, all you wanted was to be invisible, to disappear and not draw any attention to yourself.

"I believe the lady said no," a firm voice declared with a commanding presence. A dark figure appeared before you, indulging you in his shadow as he stood with his back towards the bonfire.

"Bloody Mary," you exhaled, the tightness in your chest slowly dissipating as you stared into Price's eyes. He avoided making eye contact with you, instead focusing his gaze on the boy, who instinctively tensed up and shifted away from you in reaction.

Normally, his presence would fill you with annoyance, possibly ruining your perfect day, but now all you wanted to do was run into his embrace and feel the security of his arms around you.

The boy left without a fight, leaving an eerie stillness in his wake. You felt Price's eyes on you, and the silence seemed to stretch on forever. You could almost feel the tension in the air, and you had to resist the urge to break it. No matter how hard you tried, the quiet lingered, making the moment even more agonizing.

He extended his arm, offering you a hand to hoist you up from the grass, which you took gladly. His fingers squeezed yours and you felt like a tiny child again, overwhelmed by the size of his hand compared to yours. His warm grip was like a reminder of the safe comfort you felt when you held your father's hand as a child.

"You didn't have to come," you uttered the words silently, in the belief that your words wouldn't reach his ears, as he took your hand and led you away through the drunken crowd and into the silent depths of the woods, but he did indeed hear your words, despite the chaos around him.

"So, you're telling me that you want me to leave you here, all by yourself," he questioned as you ventured into the forest towards the spot where the parking lot was located, where his car was parked.

"No," you answered far too quickly, your cheeks becoming flushed with embarrassment. However, out of all the possible outcomes of your response, his genuine chuckle was something you had never expected in a million years. It was a sound that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.

Tugging at his hand, still clasped firmly in yours, both of you came to a stop in the middle of the moonlit darkness. His face was illuminated in the faint light, allowing you to see his features clearly.

"So you're not angry with me?"

"Oh, I'm bloody furious, birdie," he stated as you let go of his hand, heart pounding as you watched his eerily relaxed face, "you could've been in serious danger."

"No terrorists showed up," you replied, stepping towards him.

"That boy wasn't a terrorist but still a danger to you," Price stood resolutely, never once averting his gaze from yours, "my job is to protect you from any potential danger, to guard your body with everything I have. And I take my job fuckin' seriously."

With every word he said, heat raised in your body, the feeling spreading through your limbs like wildfire. You felt like you were melting into the moment, desire growing with each passing second. His voice was like a velvet caress, sending shivers down your spine as he spoke. You felt yourself leaning closer, wanting to be enveloped in his embrace.

His eyes, so deep yet light and warm, seemed to peer into your soul as he finished his sentence. You could feel the intensity that radiated from him. The longer you looked at him, the more alive he seemed to become, the more you felt a connection to him that seemed to defy all logic. You wondered what it would be like to touch those cheekbones, to trace the lines of his beard, feel the softness of his lips on yours.

The next thing you knew, your lips were tenderly pressed against his. Lasting only a second, you pulled away before Price managed to react.

I'm sorry," you whispered, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire.

"You're drunk," he mumbled.

"Not enough to not remember this tomorrow," you replied promptly.

A moment of silence indulged both of you like an invisible force, slowly drawing you closer. You both felt a connection that could not be denied, and the silence was suddenly broken by the sound of your beating hearts.

He looked into your eyes, his own reflecting the passion you felt inside. His hands moved to cradle your face, and his lips met yours again. This time, he took control of the kiss. His lips moved against yours, exploring, tasting and savoring each moment. His hands moved to the small of your back, drawing you closer and deepening the connection between the two of you.

The kiss was passionate, intense, and unlike anything you'd ever felt before. You could feel the emotion radiating between you, swelling in the air like a tangible force.

He kissed you deeply, his beard scratching your upper lip as he sucked your lower lip between his. It was soft after all, well taken for. You felt your back press against the rough surface of a tree trunk, and his hands caressing your body, only fueling the fire in the pit of your stomach.

Hoisting one leg on his hip, you felt his bulge pressing against your crotch, right where you desired him the most, igniting a passionate heat between your bodies.

"Price," you moaned as he grounded his hips into yours.

"It's John," he mumbled between the kisses, the delightful roughness of his beard making its path down your throat.

Your head fell back, feeling the coarse bark of the tree behind you. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze rush past you. Pressing your chest into John's, his hand moved from your knee to your inner thigh, squeezing it harshly as if he was trying to make his presence known...as if he was making sure this wasn't just a dream.

A desperate moan escaped your throat as his palm pressed against your core, feeling your wetness as his palm pressed against your throbbing clit. His other hand slowly moved on your body, tracing your curves as he reached your chest. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing them over your shirt and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

John's lips connected with yours once again. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing you with each movement while his hand palmed you through your panties. You felt yourself growing closer to the edge already, releasing months of pent-up desire.

"Gonna have a taste," John groaned loudly as you ground your crotch against his palm shamelessly, "you comfortable with going higher?"

"What?" you exhaled slowly, your brows furrowing in confusion.

Without warning, his hands suddenly grabbed your hips and he took a step back, almost as if he had planned it. Your legs automatically locked around his head as he hefted you onto his shoulders, his arms outstretched to secure you in the position he desired.

You squealed and tightly gripped his hair as the first thing that came under your palm. You looked down, meeting John's eyes in the moonlight as he stared up at you with an amused and indulgent smile. This was actually the first time you’d seen him smile so much, radiating a warmth that was quite unfamiliar.

"You find this amusing?" you chuckle heartily.

“Well, you should see your face, love,” he looked at you, his hands tight around your thighs.

"Why did you even do it?" your hands gradually released their firm grasp on his hair as you steadied yourself against the tree so as to avoid falling.

"So I can do this," John answered and broke the eye contact, hooking your skirt on your hips.

His presence enveloped you and you could feel his breath on your aroused body. You felt a wave of pleasure wash over you as he gently caressed your inner thighs, kissing the inside of your thighs, feeling the delightful scratch of his beard between your legs. Not wasting a second, he moved your soaked panties to the side and pressed his tongue flat against your core, melting you into him as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it in.

Moans of pleasure escaped your open lips as you let your bodyguard devour you like a man starved, his tongue thrusting inside you deeper than you could have ever imagined as his hands moved to knead the soft flesh of your breast hidden underneath your bra.

"Fuck, I approve of this," feeling the overwhelming ecstasy fill your body, you did everything you could to remain balanced enough not to fall even though you were certain John wouldn't allow that to happen.

"I knew you'd taste like bloody heaven," he murmured as the sound of John lapping on your wetness blatantly filled the quiet night.

Anyone could be walking in your direction any time on their way to the parking lot and see the shocking, scandalous image of the prime minister's daughter getting her pussy eaten like a five-star gourmet meal by her own personal bodyguard, whose head was currently buried deep between her legs.

"Keep goin'" you moaned in blissful euphoria, desperately pushing your hips into his face and locking his head between your legs as if you were afraid he was about to escape from you.

He groaned into your clit, sending vibrations straight to your core, only adding more pleasure to your already overheating body. His fingers plunged into you at a merciless speed, curling slightly upwards to search for that one spot he was determined to locate. A delightful knot tightened into your stomach as John brought you to the brink of ecstasy, and with one final thrust of his calloused fingers, you were swept away in a sea of unimaginable pleasure.

He kissed you on the clit one last time before pulling away and descending you down to the ground again with expertise while you were still drunk in his fingers, legs buckling before finding your footing again.

"John," you exhaled, flushed with desire as your hand extended to his painfully hard erection, still hidden underneath the dress pants he was wearing. He gripped your wrist, stopping your actions. Your eyes lost themselves in his, seeing how fueled by desire this man was, while John traced his fingers along your lips, painting them with your own juices before pushing them inside, watching as you sucked at his fingers, feeling the swirling of your tongue making him groan.

"Knew you'd be a good girl for me," he watched you clean his fingers for a brief moment before pressing his lips to yours.

"Do you want me," he asked between the kisses, his voice full of longing and passion.

"Yes," you replied instantly, hands finally sneaking to his pants as you brought him closer to your body, indulging yourself in his presence, in his sandalwood smell as you fumbled with his belt and zipper before palming his erection while keeping your lips locked together.

His breathing became labored as his hips started to thrust against your hand, making you smile as you felt his pleasure. You kept up the rhythm, your hand moving alongside the outline of his cock and sneaking into his underwear, spreading his leaking precum to lubricate his head. John groaned in pleasure as you took your time, exploring and teasing him until he could take no more.

"Condoms?" his breath fanned over your face as his eyes met yours.

"IUD," you kissed the corner of his mouth while he rutted against your palm. His breath came in short, shallow bursts as your touch electrified his body and sent waves of pleasure radiating through him.

Taking off your panties, your legs wrapped around his waist, locking at your ankles as you watched John stuff your underwear in his pocket. You angled your hips to meet his eager cock, pressing your body firmly against his as you kissed the side of his neck. His hands moved to take off your shirt, exposing your burning skin to the cold air and causing goosebumps to raise on your soft flesh. Your bra didn't last too long after that, and you were soon left wearing only your skirt, hooked around your hips. John's lips latched onto your nipples as he pushed his pants down, the head of his cock nudging your entrance and making you gasp softly as you were filled with anticipation.

His tongue circled your erected nipple as he pushed his cock inside you. Arching your back, you pushed your chest into his face. His hand sneaked between you and the tree trunk, fingertips tracing the natural curve of your spine.

"Fuck, love, the things you do to me," John said as he licked at your skin before blowing cold air onto the wet spots, elaborating on your ecstasy while thrusting slowly but deep inside your gummy walls, building up his pace steadily.

"Oh my God," your legs quivered as John continued his lustful assault on your chest, leaving you marked and radiating with blissful pleasure.

It didn't take very long for you to whisper the word "Faster" into his ear, and he happily obliged, increasing the speed and intensity of his thrusts. John's hips rocked rhythmically against yours as he found the perfect spot inside you that sent waves of pleasure surging through your entire body.

The shameful sound of skin slapping skin, and your wetness being filled with someone's cock, reverberated in your ears. John's hand made its way to your throat, his thumb caressing the front of it before he squeezed your jawline, bringing your face toward his for another kiss. His thrusts became more violent, and you could feel your walls squeezing him delightfully with each rough plunge.

“M’close,” you murmured softly into the kiss, feeling your back heat up as the rough bark of the tree pressed against it, the scratching and pain intensifying the pleasure that was coursing through you.

“C'mon, want you to cum around my cock,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb caressing your jaw as his other hand moved from your thigh to your throbbing clit, teasing and tantalizing the sensitive bud to bring you to the edge of pleasure.

You turned your head, your mouth enveloping his thumb as you began to suck and swirl your tongue around its tip. When your eyes locked with his, his body shuddered in response and he felt the pleasure of the moment coursing through his veins. John became was unable to break the gaze as you continued to play with his finger with your tongue, the sensations overwhelming his body.

His thrusts became sloppy and uncontrolled as he neared his climax.

"Cum for me, love," he whispered seductively in your ear, making your body quiver and moan with pleasure as his thrusts became increasingly passionate. As you reached the brink of orgasm, you felt his cock swell inside you and you clenched around him tightly, sending waves of delight through both of you as you finally came undone.

"That's it," John grunted against your skin, his tongue toying with your nipples again. A few powerful thrusts later, John was grunting and biting into your skin, sure to leave marks, as he finished inside you, staying still as he savored the moment - the feel of both your juices mixing together inside your pulsating velvety walls before slowly making its way out of you, drenching your thighs.

You panted heavily and leaned your head against the tree, your hands still firmly pressed against John's shoulders as he effortlessly held you close to his sweat-soaked body. As he slowly pulled out of you, a soft whimper escaped your lips at the sudden empty feeling. He hold you by your waist while his eyes followed the trail of cum going down your legs.

Taking your panties out of his pocket, he knelt on one knee before you and used them as a wipe to clean your hypersensitive core and the trail leading to the ground.

One final kiss later, John pulled up his pants, stuffed your cum-stained panties back into his pocket and deftly fixed his shirt before helping you dress on your shaking knees.

“You good, birdie?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, fixing your bra and tucking your shirt into your skirt while running your fingers through your hair to make it look less like you had just been ravished against a tree by your own bodyguard.

"We should go before someone sees us," John stated, looking in the direction you came from.

A genuine laugh left your lips, "now you're worried someone might see us?"

"You're funny, birdie," with a smile, he offered his hand to lead the way before falling slightly behind you and becoming your silent, stoic shadow once again.

“Can you walk all the way back," he asked as he observed you stumble slightly.

"Don’t flatter yourself, Price, doesn't suit you” you laughed it off as you continued walking towards the parking lot, your bodyguard trailing after you, a chuckle escaping him. His muscular form soon appeared next to you, and his arm slung around your waist to help steady you after you stumbled a few more times.

#captain price #john price #captain price x reader #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #captain john price #captain john price x reader #cod #callofduty #codmwii #callofdutymodernwarfare2 #callofdutymodernwarfare #smut #moni writes #codmw

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eclecticpatrolroadlawyer · 18 days

Text

Chapter 3

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are in arranged marriage. Bucky is having an affair. This is all it is about... Let's see where Y/n's fate lies... Should we?

Pairings: Bucky x reader, Bucky x Dot, reader x Dean Winchester

Genre: angst, affair, unrequited love, blurb

Illicit Affairs

chapter 1 chapter 2

5 months later after Dot and Bucky's meeting (i.e. 3 months earlier)

Dot's POV

Taking a deep breath, I enter the restaurant with a gentle smile, scrolling through my phone to check for any messages. Spotting Bucky at a table, looking out the window, I smile and walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to make my presence known.

He jumps a little at the sudden touch, turning to see me, a breath of relief escaping him. "Oh. It's you…haha yeah, it's you," he says, his tone a mix of surprise and nervousness. Ignoring his initial reaction, I reply with a smile, "Yes, of course, it's me—on our date, whom you were expecting." I tease him playfully, and he chuckles, shaking his head. "No, no… nothing… Yes, you are right, my bad, doll."

As Bucky chuckles at my teasing remark, I decide to add a bit more to lighten the mood.

"You know, for a moment there, I thought I might have been replaced by a secret agent or something. I mean, the way you reacted, I half-expected you to say, 'The eagle has landed, mission accomplished,'" I quip, a playful glint in my eyes.

Bucky bursts into a genuine laugh, his earlier tension dissipating. "Well, you caught me off guard. Next time, I'll try to keep my spy skills in check," he jokes, raising an imaginary spy hat.

We share a laugh, the atmosphere lightening, and I take a seat across from him. The initial surprise forgotten, we settle into the easy rhythm of a date, enjoying each other's company amidst the cozy ambiance of the restaurant.

In the midst of our date, he excuses himself for a bathroom break, and as I patiently wait, a soft glow emanates from his phone. Intrigued unintentionally, I glance at the screen, revealing 24 unread messages from someone labeled 'wife.' The weight of that word hits me like an unexpected storm, and my breath catches. I double-check, my eyes fixated on the screen, and time seems to come to a standstill. Emotions surge within me—a tumultuous blend of confusion, heartache, and an unfamiliar ache that words struggle to define. It's an unusual feeling, foreign yet poignant, as the realization dawns that I might have merely been a fleeting moment in the tapestry of his life that he shred.

As he returns from the bathroom, I attempt to hide the inner turmoil, plastering a smile on my face. The weight of the discovered messages lingers, creating an invisible barrier between us. We resume our conversation, but my mind is a filled of thoughts, swirling with unspoken questions. The restaurant buzzes around us, but something's off.

As the evening unfolds, the once vibrant colors of our date now seem muted. There's a feeling like things were messed up—the threads of his life kind of tangled. Silence wraps around us, punctuated by the clinking of cutlery and distant chatter. The air between us gets heavy, and we sit in quiet, the noise of the place highlighting the unspoken things hanging there.

"Are you okay?" His hand on mine grounds me, but I'm lost in a whirlwind of uncertainty. I nod quietly, my lips parting, struggling to find words to calm the chaos within.

Questions torment me—confront or ignore? Logic demands answers, but my heart quivers at the thought of the truth. I stare at him, silently pleading for reassurance, as if hoping he'll unveil this as a prank, a figment of my imagination.

The unsettling image lingers, and with a heavy sigh, I unconsciously let out, loud enough for him to hear, "It's all a mess." Each word carries the weight of confusion, hurt, and a yearning for things to make sense again.

Days pass, the weight of the unanswered questions lingering between us. The air is thick with tension, and I find myself unable to carry the burden of uncertainty any longer.

One evening, as we sit in a quiet corner of the park, I gather the courage to break the silence. The golden hues of the setting sun cast a warm glow, yet my heart is heavy with the unspoken.

Taking a deep breath, I look into Bucky's eyes, searching for the truth I desperately need. "Bucky, there's something on my mind, and I can't keep pretending everything is okay. I saw those messages, the ones from your 'wife.' Can you please help me understand? I need to know what's happening."

The words hang in the air, and the park's serene ambiance contrasts with the storm brewing within me. His reaction, his response—everything is poised on the edge, waiting to unravel the tangled threads of our story.

"Bucky," I shake him gently, my voice trembling with fear and desperation. "Who's she? Are you married?" I ask again, louder this time, my hands shaking as I cling to the hope that it's all just a misunderstanding. "Tell me it's not true. TELL ME IT'S NOT WHAT I THINK IT IS!" I shout, unable to contain the rising panic and anguish within me.

My outburst attracts a few curious glances from passersby, but I try to regain control, taking a deep breath to steady myself as tears well up in my eyes.

"I… I need to go," I whisper, a quiet plea to escape the unbearable truth. As I make to leave, I see the disbelief in Bucky's eyes, his shaky breath betraying his inner turmoil. His silent plea begs me to stay, to listen, but I can't bear to look at him any longer. Disappointment floods me as I meet his gaze, shaking my head in silent reproach. Closing my eyes, I let a few tears slip down my cheeks before gathering my purse and walking away, leaving him alone at the table.

After reaching home, I close the door behind me, leaning against it as tears cascade down my cheeks, finally allowing myself to release the flood of emotions I've been holding back.

"I trusted him," I whisper to myself, the words heavy with betrayal and disbelief. I sink to the floor, clutching my legs to my chest, burying my face in my hands as I cry. Each sob feels like a dagger to my heart, a painful reminder of the shattered trust and broken dreams.

As the minutes pass, I cry like a child, the weight of my heartache crushing me. I curse myself for being so foolish, for letting my guard down and allowing myself to love so deeply. Bright colors of hope and happiness that once filled my heart now seem distant and faded, replaced by a darkness that threatens to consume me once more.

The pain is unbearable, a relentless ache that pierces through every fibre of my being. I feel lost and alone, abandoned by the one person I thought was my safe haven. It hurts—oh, how it hurts—more than I ever thought possible.

"I gave it my all, and he gave me nothin' at all," I murmur to myself, the words heavy with resignation and sorrow. In the quiet solitude of my home, surrounded by the echoes of my own pain, I confront the harsh reality of unrequited love. Despite pouring my heart and soul into the relationship, it feels like I've received nothing in return but heartache and disappointment. It's a bitter pill to swallow, knowing that I gave everything I had to someone who couldn't—or wouldn't—meet me halfway.

The days stretched on, each one a painful reminder of the shattered pieces of my heart. I bury myself in work, in hobbies—anything to distract myself from the gaping void left by Bucky's betrayal. But no matter how busy I kept myself, his absence lingered like a haunting shadow.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the world outside grew still, there comes a hesitant knock at my door. My heart skipped a beat as I approached, uncertainty mingling with a flicker of hope.

Opening the door, I am met with the sight of Bucky, his usual confident demeanour replaced by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. "Can we talk?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with regret.

Part of me wanted to slam the door shut, to shut him out like he had shut me out. But another part—a part that still holds onto the memories of love and laughter—couldn't turn him away.

I nod silently, stepping aside to let him in. We sit in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of our unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

"I'm sorry," he finally whispers, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I messed up. I never meant to hurt you."

His words stir something inside me—anger, hurt, but also a lingering spark of longing. Against my better judgment, I find myself drawn to him, the magnetic pull between us undeniable.

Before I can stop myself, I close the distance between us, my hand reaching out to touch his cheek. Our eyes meet, and in that moment, the floodgates of desire open, the tension crackling between us like electricity.

One kiss leads to another, and soon we are lost in a hunger that had been brewing quietly. Clothes fell away, our inhibitions tossed aside as we surrendered to the primal longing that surged within us.

In the heat of the moment, all thoughts of pain and betrayal melted away, replaced by the intoxicating rush of passion and desire. We collapse into each other's arms, spent and breathless, even though I know it is wrong, even though he has a wife.

Soon I find myself entangled in an illicit affair.

Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return

Take the road less traveled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies, and it dies, and it dies

A million little times

Leave the perfume on the shelf

That you picked out just for him

So you leave no trace behind

Like you don't even exist

Take the words for what they are

A dwindling, mercurial high

A drug that only worked

The first few hundred times

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and they lie, and they lie

A million little times

And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colors

You know I can't see with anyone else

Don't call me "kid"

Don't call me "baby"

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

You taught me a secret language

I can't speak with anyone else

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times

Note: Hey guys! Hope you like it. English is actually my second language so if there's any mistake you can inform me by messaging me privately. And PLEASE REBLOG AND DON'T STEAL MY WORK. Please like and comment too so, that I can know your views. Thank you for reading guys! Have a nice day and please comment if you wanna be tagged in.

Taglist: @angstysebfan @cjand10@learisa @themorningsunshine @binkszamsstuff

@dreamerglassesgirl @winterslove1917 @perfectpieslimeprune@nikkivillar @bethexo07 @vicmc624 @pattiemac1 @ozwriterchick @rqse-writes @mega-kittyglitter-1

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

Illicit Affairs | Chapter X: Invisible String

Pairing: Neteyam x Human/Avatar!Reader

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX

Synopsis: Back from the dead, you have to heal in order to be able to move on and be forever part of the people. You and Neteyam finally find each other, giving in to desires you've both had for years.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ minors DNI!!!), some angst, fluff, all the feels, so many feels, the end

Word Count: 14,7k words (i need to be stopped)

A/N: The last chapter of Ilicit Affairs is finally here!! It took me a lot longer than I thought to finish this, but that's because this chapter is longer than my first like 5 chapters combined. I don't know what happened hahahah. I'm so excited to share this with you, the conclusion and culmination of this whole story. I hope you find it a satisfying pay-off, and I'd love to hear allll of your thoughts. Honestly, replies and asks make my life and I cry a little bit every time someone interacts with my content. I hope you have enjoyed this journey, and make sure you read til the end for a (hopefully pleasant) surprise ;)

As always, thank you to everyone who asked to be tagged, I love you all sm!! Ok enjoy byeee x

“Isn't it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me? A string that pulled me out of all the wrong arms right into that dive bar Something wrapped all of my past mistakes in barbed wire Chains around my demons, wool to brave the seasons One single thread of gold tied me to you”

Neteyam stood in the room that he knew so well now, he had memorised its cracks in the white walls, and he was holding your hand, slowly tracing the now-fading yellow bruises along your arm. He looked at the tube that was going into the nook of your elbow and followed his eyes along it, until it reached a little clear pouch with a liquid that was dripping slowly all the way into your body. You were talking animatedly with Kiri, Norm and Max, looking over a bunch of plants displayed on a table in front you. It was incredible to see you, you looked like a completely different person than you were a few days ago. As soon as you woke up, you asked for the treatment you worked on and got working, and your symptoms improved massively. You were still sick, and the virus was still there, not to mention the damage it had already done couldn’t be reversed, it had to be treated on day at a time. Norm said your lungs were getting better and your heart was too, but your kidneys, he thought they were called, still not cleared your blood properly, so you were still stuck in bed with a big tube coming out of your neck where it removed your blood and another tube where it returned it back to your body. Neteyam did not understand how any of this worked, but whatever science it took, he was grateful for. He did not leave your sight in this time, refusing to be parted with you for even more than a few minutes at a time. Jake helped Max and Norm bring in an extra large bed, like the ones made for Avatars and add it to the room next to your own bed, and he slept there, reaching over to hold you hand at all times.

There was so much between you that was still unsolved, still eating at his insides, but he did not want to overwhelm you or pain you in any way while in this state, so he was satisfied to just be near you and listen to your heavy breathing while you slept, and be comforted by the sound of the ECG machine letting him know you were still there, that your heart was still beating and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

“Ok, I think we need to start with how will we extract the proteins from these plants. I’ve not done protein extraction on plants, but I assume we can do some sort of chloroform or methanol precipitation? You and Grace used to work with plants a lot more than Max or I, so I think you would be the best at figuring it this out, no?” Neteyam looked at you with wide eyes, so perpetually impressed with your intelligence and drive, with how good you seemed to be at tackling any challenge. You were barely breathing properly, but here you were, trying to find a cure for this illness that almost took your life. The first full sentence you said after coming back to life was to Kiri, and he was a little jealous, but overall incredibly proud of you and your strength that felt like it could move mountains if you put all your might into it. Knowing you, he was sure this virus will be dead meat soon.

“Right, I can take care of the protein extraction, you can then run mass spectrometry on it and see what we’re working with. It’s going to be a lot of work, are you sure you don’t want us to take care of it? Until we figure out exactly which active ingredient in which one of these plants gets results, it’s nonstop. I don’t think you’re ready to be back to work yet.”

“I can’t sit back and do nothing. We’ll see how I feel, worst case scenario I do all the analysis from the comfort of this bed, deal?”

Norm was happy to hear that you weren’t being stubborn for once. Whatever happened to you when you died, you definitely seemed changed. As if death brought forth epiphanies that made you want to live, to heal. Neteyam was definitely not complaining.

After a while, everyone cleared, and you and Neteyam were left by yourselves. You turned around to watch him, giving him a little grin.

“You know you don’t have to stay here every minute of the day, right?”

“I disagree.”

You laughed heartily, your breath getting caught in your throat when the action made your lungs hurt, and the laughter turned to wincing, much to Neteyam’s dismay. Eventually, the wincing turned to sighing, and you didn’t look at him as you spoke again.

“Shouldn’t you be with your mate?”

It was his turn to wince, and he realised you probably couldn’t avoid talking about your issues forever.

“Do you really want to talk about this right now?”

“Neteyam… I won’t be the other woman. And I’m also not going to be the woman who steals a man from another, or who endorses whatever the hell this is. I need to make sure you are serious about this, about us. I might still not make the consciousness transfer. I need you to think about this, and if you do and you decide that it is me after all, then you need to talk to her. She deserves that, she deserves better than what she’s been getting. And I don’t want to be part of this until I know she is not being deceived or led on.”

“You are right. I will talk to her today, alright? But I’m not leaving you right now.”

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

You could feel yourself getting stronger by the day. It was a struggle still, your lungs feeling like they were going to explode any time you took a deep breath in and your heart oscillating between going a million miles a minute to barely functioning in the span of a day, but you were getting there. The combination treatment was definitely doing its job, and your body was no longer on the brink of collapse. Some colour returned to your cheeks in time, and since you have been eating about 15 meals a day because of how worried everyone was, you were gaining weight back, which was further increasing your day-to-day quality of life. You got a lot of sleep in the last few days, probably more combined than in the past few months, and you felt rested, for the first time in a really long time.

The first two days were the hardest, your body reeling from withdrawal on top of everything else you were experiencing. But you were feeling good today, and were trying to remain optimistic so as to not fall into old patterns. Having Neteyam next to you helped, your light in all the darkness, he refused to leave your sight, even in the face of more pressing matters.

The humans were closing in, you were told. The ships will be landing any day now, which only contributed to your slow recovery, as the anxiety was manifesting itself physically and hurting your progress. You felt stressed at the situation and more so at the thought that Neteyam wasn’t there, in the meetings and in practice, missing it all so he could stay with you. You hated it, worrying constantly and he wouldn’t hear it.

“It’s only a couple of days, Atan. Stop worrying.”

Today was the day they were going to remove the dialysis machine, which you were extremely excited about. You felt the need to walk, to stretch out your legs, to be back in the lab. You had a lot to do, a lot you had riding on this. You were trying not to think too hard on how you were doing everything in your power to further procrastinate healing, knowing that at some point you were going to have to deal with the trauma head on and open that damned drawer, that held all of your darkest memories, all of the things you spent your whole life pushing away. If you were going to be ready to heal, ready to move on, you had to do so with a clear conscience and a clean slate. You were adamant that you were going to find the cure for the virus and use it on yourself before you made a decision about the consciousness transfer. You had to be 100% sure of your choice, of your decision to leave this life behind forever, and you couldn’t do that if you viewed it as an escape from your current weak and disease-ridden body.

It took a while to be disconnected to the machine and get the tube out of your neck. From now on til you decide whether to go through with the transfer, you will have to do this for a few hours a day, which was a pain, but better than being bed ridden all day.

You put your feet on the ground for the first time in days, and you forced yourself to stand slowly, and quickly realised it was a bad idea, and your knees immediately buckled under you. Neteyam caught you with both his hands under your arms, and effortlessly raised you until your feet were a few inches above ground.

“Put me down! This is so embarrassing.” You groaned at your own impairment, and refused to give up, slowly starting to walk with shaky feeble steps. You felt both Norm and Neteyam hover over you, and although you were grateful for them, you wanted to scream at how upsetting it was making you having to be looked after like you were a baby taking her first steps. You guess, in some ways, you were.

You eventually got to your room, which looked untouched, if a little dusty. You were happy to see it again, happy to take it all in. It was a bit surreal, the whole experience. You didn’t realise how much it was all going to matter, all the little things, until you were dead on a hospital bed, begging Eywa for another chance. Every wall, every creak on the floor, every book, it all hit you suddenly, and you had to sit down on the ground, your back against the bed frame, so as to not collapse under the weight of this whole endeavour.

“Atan, are you alright?” Neteyam’s voice was laced with concern, and you tried to stop panting long enough to answer him.

“I’m fine, it’s just a lot.”

He slowly sat down next to you, struggling to squeeze in the tight space between the bed and the desk. His knee was brushing up against the side of the thigh, and you felt heat spread from the touch through your entire body. He gently raised one hand to the side of your face, removing strands of hair that were falling on it and tucking them behind your ear.

“Talk to me, Atan. I want to know, I want to help.”

You felt tears pool in your eyes, and you couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look anywhere but the ground as the words got lodged in your throat. This was going to be much harder than you thought.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Neteyam. I’m sorry that I almost died, that I did die, and that you had to witness it. I’m sorry for not telling you, I am sorry for not fighting harder, I am sorry for so many things.” Hot tears were falling on your arm laying in your lap and you struggled to find the words to speak. “I am still so mad at you, so mad that you left, so mad that you lied, so mad that you never told me how you felt about me, so mad about so many things, but I shouldn’t have kept this from you. We’ve been inseparable since birth, and no matter what happened, you deserved to know, you all deserved to know. You deserved to say goodbye. I am sorry I took that from you.”

You were both crying now, and he picked you up and placed in his lap with little visible effort, it was probably easier for him than carrying Tuk. You wrapped your arms around his neck and slid your legs around him to wrap around his back and you stood there, crying in the crook of his neck while he held you tightly, trying not to hurt you.

“I am sorry for leaving. Sorry for not talking to you about how I felt, sorry about giving up on you. I should have stayed and helped you heal, I should have been there for you to rely on instead of being yet another thing you had to deal with in this life. I am sorry about lying about Tiongli, I am sorry for not telling them all no from the beginning. Even without the Avatar, there was only one woman in this whole world I would ever belong to, and I would have been happy spending my whole life in this lab, if it meant doing it with you. I was scared, and I am sorry.”

He removed your head slowly from the crook of his neck, and grasped the side of you face with one of his hands, thumb trailing over your lips, tracing them from your cupid’s bow to your lower lips, and you shuddered at the touch, deep desire pooling within you.

“I love you so much. I have loved you my whole life, from the moment I was born, and I will love you until the moment I die. I am so sorry it took me so long to grow, but I am ready now. Whatever it is, I will brave it with you, and for you. You will never have to do this alone again.”

You were sobbing now, unmoored at his confession that you have waited for your entire life. You were so overwhelmed by the love and affection you felt for this man, for the appreciation of knowing he was willing to hear the deepest, darkest parts of your soul and share in that pain willingly.

“I love you too. I missed you so much.”

After crying it out on the crook of his neck, letting your human hands caress the soft blue skin of his back and chest while he held you, fingers running up and down your spine in a comforting motion, you eventually got up from his lap slowly, and crawled on all your fours to your messy old desk. You took a key that was taped to the underside of your chair, and, with a deep sigh and tired eyes, unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk. You took out just one thing. A bracelet. You smiled at the sight, and tightened it around your arm multiple times so it fit on your human form. You looked at Neteyam coyly, giving him a soft smile, and you saw his hand reaching for his own bracelet, with a gummy smile and tears in his eyes.

Maybe you could do this after all.

You eventually started working in the lab again, being a lot more careful about striking a balance between work and everything else in your life. You were still struggling to sleep, especially now that Norm and Max flushed every pill you had down the toilet, but you were trying your best. The best was when Neteyam slept over, and you just fell asleep flush against his bare body, whose warmth melted away all your nightmares and replaced them with much better, much lewder ones. You weren’t getting anywhere with your research, as Kiri found a lot of plants in the forest, and to do mass spectrometry and proteomics on so many proteins, and analysing them all was an impossible task in the time you had left. So in an afternoon, as you were hanging out with her, Lo’ak, Spider and Neteyam in the hub, guitar strumming in your hands, you had a lightbulb moment.

“Kiri, if you had to save one plant, just one on this whole planet, which one would it be?” Kiri was special. Whenever the rest of the kids argued over her heritage, making crude jokes about Grace and Norm, trying to figure out who her dad is, you always had a different hypothesis, that you never said out loud. Kiri was Eywa’s child, as much as Grace’s. She was the key to everything. Eywa was flowing through her, guiding her, and you believed she had a lot more up her sleeve than any of you knew, than even she knew.

“Hmmm, that is a hard question.” She looked deep in thought for a long time, and eventually it’s like a huge epiphany was released from her mind. “Pamtseowll!!”

“The Cat Ear plant? Are you sure?”

“I think so! I don’t know why that one, but that’s the only thing that came to mind, and when I thought about it, I just knew it was the right one! Why do you ask?”

You raised from the ground, placed the guitar on a bench next to you, and ran (more like walked at slightly increased velocity than normal) to her, kissing her forehead in a loud smooch.

“I’ll let you know!! Wait here!!”

You talked to Norm, telling him your hunch and asking him to treat a vial of the infected blood with the liquid extracted from the plant in question, that you already had in stock thanks to Kiri. It would take a while, but you were buzzing in excitement, feeling extremely positively about your idea and your new odds. You made it back to the hub where they were all waiting for you, and sat back on the ground, mischievously ignoring their curious glares.

“Are you going to tell us what this was all about?” Spider said, rolling your eyes at your antics.

“Nope.”

They eventually dropped it, and you sat together, talking about everything and nothing, trying to ignore the looming doom of the ships slowly making their way to Pandora’s atmosphere, and the deadly consequences that would follow them.

You picked up the guitar again, deep in thought. Before you could help yourself, you found yourself speaking.

“I saw my mum.”

Everybody stopped and stared at you in shock. None of them said anything, and you swore you could hear a hairpin drop for sure in this big hall, or your heart pounding in your ears.

“When I died…” you started cautiously, not even knowing why you started talking in the first place, but knowing it was too late to back off now. “…I woke up in this new place I have never seen before. Eventually, I realised I was on Earth, in my mum’s childhood home. There were pictures of her on the wall, with her parents, she looked young, and happy… and alive.”

“Her house overlooked the ocean, and I went and sat on the beach and she came. Like it was nothing, she just came to me, and sat me down, and watched me cry on her shoulder until I thought I was running out of tears.”

This bit was easy enough to speak about, now came the real problem. You swallowed the big lump in your throat and continued. “She told me she did the same things I did. That she had been sad, so very sad, ever since my father died, the kind of sad that never goes away, the kind of sad I am.” You couldn’t look at them, preferring the look of your guitar that you were holding on to dear life as you spoke, and saw small tears crashing into the strings, splattering everywhere. “She said she didn’t try… to stay alive, to heal. Just like I didn’t. She said she had a choice, and she chose to die, because the hurt was too much for her to bear. She left me, orphaned me, put me through so much pain I’m still dealing with a decade later.”

You heard small gasps and sharp breath intakes and the new information, but couldn’t stop to acknowledge it, needing it out of your soul as soon as possible. “I was so hurt, so mad at her. That she left, that she didn’t fight harder to be in my life, that she left me with so many scars because of her selfishness. And then it dawned on me… that was me. I did that to you. To all of you. And I am sorry. I am so sorry.”

They all slowly sat up from where they sat and gathered around you in a circle, and hugged you.

“We forgive you. We’re just happy you’re still here. We love you, we want you to know that you’ll always be able to talk to us. You’ll always have us. We’re a family. Sullys stick together.”

You felt each of these words deep within you, the forgiveness something you craved like air, and you realised how much it must have meant to your mum. You were happy you could do that for her. You were happy something good came out of all the misery.

Later that day, all the Sully kids left, and you went to your room, carrying your guitar in your hands, and found yourself again, sitting on the ground, reaching for the bottom drawer key and unlocking it with shaky hands and muffled cries. It was time. You reached inside it for a photo album, with old school printed photos on it, and opened it. Your heart was hurting so badly you needed to place your hand on your hand to try to settle it, settle the pain and agony you felt. The first photo was a photo of you and your mum in the medical ward, holding you tightly against her chest, looking really tired with the caption “you had just been born a couple hours ago, how crazy is that?”. The second one - a photo of you, as a tiny baby, only a few days old by the scribbling on it. Countless photos of you, in various stages of growth, in various positions, all captioned by your mother, who loved you more than anything else in this world and whose love was loud and clear in every one of these images. The tears kept falling off the laminated pages and onto your legs, and your anguished cries took over the music playing in the background. An image of you and Neteyam, in a crib, his body much larger than yours even as tiny infants, but you were holding hands, sleeping peacefully next to each other. An image of your mum with Neytiri and Jake, smiling widely for the camera. A photo of your mum in her Avatar body with all the Sully kids, her holding Tuk in her arms when she was just born. An image of her in the lab, mid laugh with a pipette gun in her hand - no one would ever have been able to tell how much hurt she was hiding underneath, how close she was to death. Finally, an image of her and your dad, taken by your dad, of them looking into each other’s eyes lovingly. The caption, blurred and blotched from dried tear stains, read “the love of my life, the light in all the darkness”. You closed the album panting, and brought it close to your heart, just holding on to it while you cried.

You were spent by the end, but wanted to push through, needing to get this done all in one go. You removed another thing from the drawer, a camera, the gift Jake have you for your birthday. You eventually sat on your desk chair, and plugged it into your laptop. You clicked on the only file on it, and gasped at your mum’s face appearing on the screen, smiling while adjusting the camera to centre her face. She started speaking, and you clung to every word, making sure her voice and words will forever be imprinted on your mind.

“My child,

I know it’s been a while since you have since my face.” she says with a small laugh.

“I’m making this tape for your 18th birthday, as this should be around the time when your Avatar is ready for you to use. I gave Norm and the rest of them notes and doodles and research and I think they can do it, my love. I think they can build you the ramps new life, one amongst the Na’vi. I am so excited for you, you have no idea.

Happy birthday, bunny. You will forever be the best and brightest thing I will have ever achieved. I am more sorry than you will ever know that I don’t get to see you grow up, see the beautiful, intelligent, caring and loving person you already are blossom into so much more, but I want you to know, more than anything, that I have no regrets.

I have lived my life exactly the way I wanted to. I have explored new worlds, I have contributed something good to the world, I have lived and I have loved deeply and unconditionally. I just hope you do, too. I hope this world doesn’t break you, my love. I hope it doesn’t snuff out your light, because in that case, I will have failed you, and I am so sorry.

I know you are sad, and I know you have probably been sad for a while, and I know this life is emotionally abusive, and it takes and takes and takes until there’s nothing left. But it’s also worth living. Because you can learn to take from it, too. You can learn to heal, and love and live, and replace whatever it took in time with even better fitted pieces. But in order to do that, you have to live, my love.

Even at 10, you have a tendency to keep sadness in, and don’t let it out. That’s something you got from me, and I’m sorry for that. I love that you got my eyes, and my addiction to music and my love for science and literature, but baby, I don’t want you to be like me in every way. You also have a tendency to isolate, and that, you also got from me. I’m hoping that will change in time, I’m hoping Neteyam, and Spider, and Lo’ak and Kiri, and eventually Tuk will be able to break through and allow their light to shine on the dark walls of this lab. But if not, I’m hoping this Avatar will.

I want you to know that it’s alright to hurt, and it’s alright to be scared and wonder if the path you’ve taken is the correct one. We all wonder through this life scared and confused and a little alone. But it’s up to us to want to make a change and it’s worth it, baby. I know opening yourself up to hurt is scary and hard, but it will also allow to love, to love fully and deeply, to give yourself to others and have them give themselves to you. There’s beauty in this world and this life, but you need to be brave to experience it.

Your dad and I love you very much. Enjoy this Avatar, and enjoy all that it can bring to your life. You are the brightest light of my life, and now it’s time for you to become another’s.”

You replayed the video until you were so spent, your eyes were closing painfully from the tiredness and hurt and tears. After that, you went to your bed, still clinging to the photo album, and fell asleep, to a song you hoped one day you’ll be strong enough to play yourself, but for now had to settle for the original.

I should've asked you questions, I should've asked you how to be Asked you to write it down for me, should've kept every grocery store receipt Cause every scrap of you would be taken from me Watched as you signed your name Marjorie All your closets of backlogged dreams, and how you left them all to me...

Norm came bursting through the door of your bedroom, waking you up in a panic. “What the fuck, Norm??”

“We did it.” He came to your bedroom and took you by the shoulders, shaking you. He screamed and jumped in the air.

“WE FUCKING DID IT, ACE!”

You jumped from the bed onto your knees, so you were almost face to face.

“WHAT? ARE YOU FOR REAL?”

“YES, OH MY GOD, YES!”

You jumped on him and he caught you, and you just spun around in your tiny room, laughing and screaming at the beginning of your new life.

Thank you, mum. For looking after me even after you’ve gone. Thank you.

You had to toil a bit with details, but by midday, you were ready to get the substance, now purified and diluted in appropriate medium for being inserted in a human body. You watched as Norm prepared, and held your breath as he injected it into your now healed veins. You didn’t know whether it would work, or how many doses you would need, this was all so new, it was kind of crazy you were willing to inject it in your body with so little information, but you trusted your mum, and you trusted Kiri, and you trusted Eywa.

You felt good. So good, in fact, you knew exactly what you wanted to do.

Neteyam was in the village, in a deep strategy meeting about how they were going to approach the upcoming threat looming over everybody. His mind was only half listening, the other half too busy with musings of you. What were you doing? Have you eaten? Did you take your treatment? He was worried about you after yesterday, and felt guilty he didn’t stick around for the night in case you needed him. He is pulled out of his train of thought when he hears a loud banshee scream, and everyone’s attention turns to the entrance of the tent, to which everyone rushes. When Neteyam makes his way outside, his mouth drops at the sight of you, beautiful and wild, free on top of your golden white ikran.

You were radiant, smiling widely at him while you removed your queue and your visors and brought your hand to your forehead and greeted everyone at the meeting.

“Hey, kid.” The Sully patriarch came over and gave you a big hug, a conflicted look on his face. “Are you sure it’s ok for you to use your Avatar?”

“We did it, Jake. We found the cure.”

His mother and father both gasped loudly at the news and hugged you tightly, and you held on to them with all your might, pouring all of your love and apologies into it. Neteyam was too stunned to say anything, pure bliss escaping his body in the form of silent tears, that he wiped immediately from his face - he was in a meeting with all the warriors, there couldn’t be tears.

“I’m actually here to steal the future Olo’eyktan, if that’s ok with everyone. I will bring him back in one piece, I promise.”

“Fine, but don’t be too late. I don’t want to have to use the radio, am I making myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Neteyam saw you click your tongue towards where you were standing, and felt a ping of arousal at your sight, at your confident demeanour. You used to be such a wild girl before life got too much for you to bear. He hoped he’d get to see that in you again, just like he was now. His hands made their way to his mouth and formed a circle around it, and he screamed loudly for his ikran, which appeared quickly and landed next to yours. He connected the queue and both of you took flight at the same time.

You flew like that for a while, and he was mystified at the experience. He has spent so much of his time riding with other people, flying as much a chore as a delight, but nothing that will ever be able to top this. You were screaming, fiercely and ferociously, doing barrel rolls in midair on your beautiful banshee, laughing loudly and urging her to almost bump into him, to which he gasped in mock annoyance and returned the favour. He followed you to the Hallelujah mountains, all the way to a cave on one of the floating rocks. It was beautiful, and he thought it would probably be breathtaking at night. You both landed, panting from the adventure, and made your ways to each other after petting your ikrans affectionately.

His hands immediately found your face, holding you tightly to look deep into your eyes. Your eyes softened looking at him, and he could see himself in them, looking intense and troubled.

“Did you really do it?”

You raised you own hand and brushed an unwieldy braid from his face, gently tugging it behind his ear. He saw your tail swish enthusiastically.

“We really did it.”

Neteyam’s mouth immediately found yours, desperate for your touch, the feeling of relief washing over him and it was so intense this is the only way it could be manifested. He needed you, craved your touch, craved the closeness, craved to make up for all the time you two lost. You moaned into the kiss and deepened it, opening your mouth, inviting his tongue to meet yours and dance in the way that made you both weak in the knees. You put your hand on his chest and pushed him and it caught him off guard, because he tipped backwards and hit the ground with a painful thud. You smirked and raised an eyebrow, and he moaned at the sight. You immediately got on top of him, straddling his lap and pulling him by his chest piece until your lips met his again. Your hands went into his hair and his did the same, and you let out a wail when he pulled on it, making your head tilt backwards, giving him access to your neck that he attacked mercilessly, leaving trails of his presence all over you. You felt him, hard against your core that was dripping in arousal, and you thoughtlessly starting grinding against him, feeling your mind flooded with sensations you never wanted to let go of.

“Neteyam, we can’t.” It hurt you saying these words, it was taking every ounce of self discipline you had, which at the moment was almost none.

“Yes, we can. In fact, I think it would be irresponsible of us not to.”

You laughed, smacking his chest playfully at his words. You brought your hand to his face and caressed it softly, and he closed his eyes in bliss.

“I want to do this properly. I will be one of you soon, for the rest of my life. I want to do this your way. I want to be mated to you the Na’vi way. Then we can do whatever you want, however you want. Deal?” You raised an eyebrow at him, smiling mischievously.

“Only if you stop raising your eyebrow at me, otherwise I make no promises.”

You laughed again, and laid next to him with your head on his chest, hoping this moment could last forever.

“Hey, I have to do something, and it won’t be pleasant. I was going to go alone, but I’ve made a promise to not go about everything alone. So if your offer still stands, would you like to come with me?”

You felt Neteyam’s hand stop caressing your hair like it had been for a while. He starts getting up, pushing your head off his chest slowly in the process. He looked serious, concerned, but he had a calming smile on, and when he took your hands in his and held them tightly, you knew you were gonna be ok.

“Let’s go.”

You got on your ikrans and flew back to the forest, feeling comforted by the knowledge he was there, next to you. You didn’t have to do this alone. You landed in the clearing next to the exo suit that belonged to you dad. Your heart was picking up pace from the sight, but it was time. It was time to work through it.

You slid off Neyn’s back and made your way to the suit, running your hands over it to remove some of the vines and eventually reaching for the dash cam. It was probably long dead, but you had to try, especially after what your mum said. You fiddled with the screen for a while, and eventually, it turned on, making you jump out of your skin.

In the view of the camera stood a man, tall and bald, wearing military clothing and reloading the guns that came with the suit. You’ve seen him before, in a photo in one of the jackets you found rummaging for clothes to wear. His name was Lyle Weinfleet.

“Captain, I think if we go through this clearing, we should be closing in on the tree of souls in about 3 clicks.”

“You’re right. But I don’t think we should do it.”

Lyle looked stunned, and he stopped whatever he was doing to turn around and look and your dad. “Barlowe, what are you talking about?”

“This is wrong, Lyle. You know it, I know it, everyone here fucking knows it. And if you don’t, you’re even a bigger psychopath than I thought you were. We have to go back.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere, Captain. These freaks are going to kill all of us if they get their way. Someone has to stop them.”

Your dad picked up his gun and pointed it at him. “Are you disobeying direct orders, lieutenant?”

“You’re not my squad leader, Captain. And I have orders from above.”

A fight ensued which eventually resulted in the destruction of both the exo suits. Your dad got out of the suit, and the last time the camera picked up was Weinfleet running at him with a knife.

You lowered the screen and sat in silence for a long time. Neteyam’s hands were rubbing up and down your arms, and you felt his chest radiating heat on your back. You were happy to have him here, as the new influx of information was overwhelming enough to make you dizzy. Your dad didn’t attack on that fateful night 19 years ago. Everything you believed your entire life was false.

“My dad was not a horrible person.” Neteyam said nothing and just stood by your side, allowing you to process everything at your own pace.

“I hated him my whole life. I felt so much guilt at his actions, the murders I thought he committed plagued my mind for years and years. I was too scared to come to the village because I thought he was responsible for the decimation of your people.”

“You came from him, you share his blood. There was no way he could have been that bad. Not with you as his daughter.”

You scoffed lightly at his comment, but were so happy he was here. You took him by the hand and walked him to the body that was now only a pile of bones. You looked further in the clearing, and realised another set of bones was settled in the ground a few meters from your dad’s. Good, you thought.

“I’d like to bury him, if that’s alright with you?”

You gathered all the bones and walked to a tree whose roots were hanging partially above the ground, creating a little cove. Rays of light were hitting it, and you knew then it would be the perfect place. You placed his remains there, and gathered flowers and ornate twigs that had fallen on the ground, and decorated the little space as well as you could.

“Thank you, dad.” You were comforted at the thought that, although he died on this foreign planet alone, he was loved, and now, he will be mourned.

You made it back to the village together, walking and holding hands, trying to get your mind off all the epiphanies you have had to undergo in the past few days. Healing was hard work, you snickered to yourself. You made it to the tent you knew Jake and the rest of the warriors would be.

“There you are. Was starting to get worried.”

“Ah, there’s nothing to be worried about, pops.” You laughed at Jake’s shocked expression and the way his eyes softened immediately as a response to your new nickname.

He had to wipe that expression off his face. He was Olo’eyktan. He was Toruk Makto, this was not inspiring leadership.

“Right. The humans will be here any day now. I think we will have to move our base of operations in the Hallelujah mountains, somewhere they can’t find us, where the flux is too strong for their equipment. It’s going to be a big ask, and a big adjustment, but it is necessary. You know the first place they will look is at the hub. And it won’t take long for them to find the village either.”

What he was saying made sense, but it filled you with a sense of grief. This forest, that hub, those labs, this village, is all you’ve ever known. To have to leave it for an undetermined amount of time, maybe forever, was hurting your heart. You knew Neteyam felt the same, you knew they all felt the same. Jake was a marine, strong and adaptable, he was an incredible person to have around in a crisis. But he didn’t quite understand what it means to belong to only one place, to only know one reality that was going to be uprooted and taken from you. That takes time, time you didn’t have.

“I think we should do the ceremony tonight. You have completed the Iknimaya, you are to be one of us now. It’s time, if you want it.”

You peered up at him, in shock, but the beating of your heart was so loud because it was excited, it was happy. It’s time. You knew it in your heart it was right, this time. You belonged here. Your mum worked so hard for you to get to do this, she foresaw this 18 years ago. Your dad gave his life for yours, even without knowing it. You owed them this, owed them your life and this new one you were about to get.

“And tomorrow, we can do the transfer, if you are ready.”

By nightfall, you were ready. Your hair was freshly braided, in a pattern different to what the Na’vi wear, but you wanted it to be a mix of Na’vi and human braiding. You had all new clothes, and Kiri was in your tent, painting your body in white lines, as was the tradition. She looked radiant, happy and beautiful, like she always was.

“How are you feeling?

“Nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about. You belong here, you always have, even when you were human. This is just formality at this point.”

“Kiri… I want to thank you. You saved my life. Your plants, your mind saved my life. I wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t for you.”

“You saved your life. You asked me, you did the work, you found the cure. The Na’vi will be forever grateful to you, and Max and Norm, I hope you know that.”

“How about we say it was a team effort?” You laughed together and you kissed her forehead. You loved her so much, your sister for life.

Neteyam saw your body, adorning all new garbs, a golden frilly loincloth and green, violet and gold beaded top that hung from your neck to reveal a bare back that made Neteyam’s body beam with desire. Your left arm was decorated with a bracelet, the same bracelet he was wearing, the one that he gave to you when he was ten, that was now proudly shining on your person rather than hiding in a drawer, masking pain. You had bracelets around your ankles as well, that were softly clinking every time you took a step. Your hair was soft and braided in a pattern that was unlike the Na’vi ways, and it was fitting, Neteyam thought. You would never be only Na’vi - you were more, not quite human, not quite one of them, you were the most beautiful aspects of both and Neteyam felt his heart skip a beat at the sight, one which will never cease to take his breath away. You were his, forever. How did he get so lucky?

Almost as if you could hear him, you slowly turned around and he saw your eyes searching the crowd until they found him, and your face immediately broke out into a beaming smile, that slowly changed into a gaze filled with yearning and love….and lust. Neteyam gulped audibly at your expression, so intense it was making him crazed enough to almost consider taking you away right now, ceremony be damned, and coax screams out of you he would be sure anyone else would cower in shame at. But not you. You were his match, his twin flame, and he knew whatever he wanted to take from you, the screams, the pleasured pains, the moans and panted breaths, you would give willingly, and would take his in return, until you were both so spent you collapsed in aching bliss.

He waited though, despite his progressively harder to ignore twitch, knowing he wouldn’t, couldn’t rob you of this moment, knowing the waiting and anticipation would be worth it in the end.

The ceremony was ethereal, magical, and he couldn’t help reminisce about his own, years and years ago. The people all stood around you, waiting for the Olo’eyktan to say the words that will make it official. Neteyam saw his father approach you, wearing all the garbs worthy of a chief of the Omatikaya, and placed both his arms on your shoulders, smiling proudly. You were a Sully now, for all intents and purposes, and his father looked at you the same way he looked at all his children. Neteyam’s heart swelled at the sight, taking in the familial interaction.

“Ngenga 'ite Omatikayaä luyu set. Na'viyä luyu hapxì. (You are now a daughter of the Omaticaya. You are part of The People.)”

Neteyam made his way by your side, and he watched as the rest of his family did the same. He placed both of his hands on your body, one over your heart, and the other on your back. His family did the same, and he noticed tears in everyone’s eyes, including yours and his own. This was a moment none of them thought they’d get to see, that you never expected to experience, and Neteyam said a silent prayer to Eywa, thanking her for bringing the love of his life back to him, and into the clan.

After the celebration, you excused yourself from everyone, tired and dazed, as well as too impatient to wait for what you have wanted, needed for days, months, years. You found Neteyam casually talking to some friends, and you touched his back lightly, so lightly it was barely there. He shuddered minutely, and turned his body to face you. He took your breath away, always, but particularly today, in this light, under these circumstances, wearing his ornate clothes and that bracelet, the one that you would both wear for the rest of your lives. That one that meant forever.

“Come.” He said, and he looked at you like you were a meal that he’s been starved from, that he was going to devour. You bit your lip in excitement and followed him.

You went for a swim in a tiny lake not too far from the village. You swam together like that for hours, kissing and touching each other under the water, just feeling him. The anticipation was building strongly, and as the last of the paint on your body dissipated, you left, with hurried steps, quickly making your way towards the Tree of Souls.

Your entire body stalled at the sight. You have seen images of it, areal videos taken from drones and helicopters, you saw it all, and yet nothing could have prepared you for the beauty of this place, for its magnitude and significance. The air felt thick, charged with energy, and you could hear whispers all around you, soft, almost imperceptible, but they were there. Eywa was here, just like she was all around you, but here, you felt her stronger, almost palpably so. You made your way through the willow-like branches, seeing the purple hue illuminate your skin, and you just walked, taking it all in, touching it, experiencing it fully. You were so happy, it made you anxious. You’ve never felt happiness like this, and you were scared it wasn’t going to last, scared of knowing that the fall from such a high would break all of your bones, crush you forever. You felt Neteyam’s gaze on you, electrifying every inch of your body its gaze was touching. You could feel him, in your bones, you knew what he was feeling, what he was thinking. You shared a soul, you always have. “He is more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

You looked at him and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight; he was the most gorgeous human you have ever seen. He was beautiful and angelic and looking at you like you were prey that he wanted to exert complete control over - and you didn’t mind. You wanted him so badly and you have waited for this for what feels like lifetimes. You knew looking at this man in front of you that you would allow him to ruin you, you would beg him to kill you softly, slowly drive out any ounce of sanity from your body orgasm by orgasm until there was nothing left of you but the echoes of moans you couldn’t help exhale. It was almost desperate, your need for him, and you heard your breath become laboured, panting with craving and ache. You saw him make his way towards you slowly, and stopped only when he was towering over you, and you had to bring your chin up to be able to look into his eyes. His hands immediately found your jaw, that he gripped tightly, making sure you weren’t going to look away from him, from that gaze that drove you mad and made you throb in pain, begging to be filled, craving sweet release.

“You’re mine. I can’t believe you’re mine. I have waited for so long, I have dreamt about this for years. The one thing I have wanted more than life itself and you are here. You’re mine. Forever.”

You were fully panting now, not even an ounce of shame on your features. You wanted him, you wanted him to know what he was doing to you. Wanted him to control you, to possess you, to take what was his, what has been his and will be his forever.

“Say it. I need to hear you say it, Atan.”

His grip on your jaw tightened, and you moaned, unable to stop yourself, not wanting to stop yourself.

“I am yours, Neteyam. I have always been yours. I will always be yours. It’s you and me, forever.”

It was his turn to moan, gaze turning animalistic now, in a way that you felt within you, deep within you, and you knew you were dripping wet now, knew he was going to love it, was going to revel in it, and you smirked at the thought.

You saw him stop and reach back for his queue. You gasped silently at the sight, but smiled at the thought he wanted this, that after this, you would be his for life. You reached back for yours, and you both held them close to each other, just out of reach, looking deeply in each other’s eyes.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do. I trust you, Neteyam, do whatever you want to me. I’m yours to take, I’m yours.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.” You joined the queues and nothing in the world could have ever prepared you for the overwhelming sensations and feelings, for the intense intimacy of feeling Neteyam’s deepest desires and emotions, for how deep his love and care for you actually ran, for how desperate he was to own you, to make you his. You felt his breathing and his heartbeat, and he felt yours and the desire you both felt exploded all around you.

He aggressively smashed his lips into yours, both of you moaning at the contact, at the need that enveloped both your beings like the rushing water of the river you loved swimming in together. Your fingers immediately made their way into his hair, his beautiful hair that seemed to sometimes have a life of its own, and thinking of how hot you found it made you only more enthusiastic, gripping at it tightly and pulling on it. He smirked in the kiss, parting your lips enough to look at you with a mischievous grin that you loved more than you could put into words. You loved this man - you loved his kindness and compassion and sacrificial streak and patience, but you loved this side of him more, the side only you ever got to experience, that no one else knew about. How passionate and adventurous he was, how masculine and possessive of what was his he was, how wild and untamed a streak he hid under the well-behaved and poised demeanour. How well he matched you. Your twin flame. He placed both of his hands on you thighs, just underneath your ass, and lifted you effortlessly, and you instantly wrapped both your legs around him, never breaking the kiss, that was now just a mess of panted moans, lips and intertwined tongues. You felt your back hit a tree bark and you gasped, breaking the kiss and watching as the action left a trail of spit in between you. His mouth moved to your neck, that he sucked and licked until it was hurting, and he pushed you into the tree, trying to remove whatever space there still was in between you two. As he did so, you felt his chest and pelvis push aggressively into you, and you whined when you felt his dick brush up against you core, hard as a rock and hitting a spot that was making you lose your ability to see around you. He started moving his hips into yours, drawing circles into your pelvis and you matched him, desperate for release, desperate to want to give him your first of many orgasms of the night. You weren’t going to be satisfied until he made you cry in pain, in pleasure, until the line between them was blurred.

Neteyam saw your breathing quickened and he smirked in a way that only made further pleasure pool in your depths. “Coming already, my love? You wanted me that badly, huh?”

“Dick.”

“You’ll get that later, too.”

You wanted to laugh, but couldn’t do anything but mewl in agonising ecstasy as he hit a spot that immediately made you see stars and you rode out your first orgasm, crying into the crook of his neck.

“Good girl.” He didn’t let you come down from you high, as he removed your body from the tree and placed you on the mossy, comfortable ground, and both his hands went on your knees, making sure you were keeping them apart, as soon as he could feel you wanting to close them to accommodate for your post-orgasm sensitivity.

“No, Atan. You wanted this, remember? You have to keep your pretty legs spread for me.”

The entire world was spinning around you, a mess of purple, pink and white, as he traced his hands slowly, too slowly, painfully slowly up your thighs, until he reached your hips, where you loincloth was tightened, and you felt him make quick work of the knot, inhaling deeply as he took it off from you and saw you for the first time.

“Fuck, Atan. I feel like I could come just from looking at you. Look at you, a fucking writhing mess and I haven’t done anything yet. Look at this,” he said as he place a hand in between your folds, removing the slick that was so abundant it was now dripping down your ass, “Look at how wet you are for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. The shit I want to do to you, Atan, will make Eywa regret ever making this tree part of the mating ritual.”

You saw him slowly lowering his head towards you legs, kissing and biting roughly up your thigh until you were screaming in pain. “Shh, Atan.” He drew circles in your thighs as he continued his onslaught to comfort you to some extent, except it was only lighting your skin on fire, only strengthening your need for that second release.

“Fuck, Neteyam, please.”

“Begging so soon, my love? What do you need?”

“You. Your tongue, your fingers, anything. Fuck, please!”

“Well, since you said please.”

He smirked again, the asshole, and you felt him licking your pussy from your entrance to your clit, and at the moan he released as he did so, you convulsed so violently you needed a while to settle, still trying desperately to close your thighs to make the sensation more bearable.

“Stop that, or I’ll stop. Do you want me to stop, my love?” He looked at you through hooded eyes and giving you a wild look that made you clench around nothing, and your hands found his head and you pushed him back into you, annoyed that he stopped, already upset at the thought that he wasn’t going to be doing this every minute for the rest of your life. If you had your way, he would. That’s all you would do. He laughed, but obliged, and continued his attack on your lips, messily kissing and licking, pushing his tongue deep within you, like your pussy held the potion for eternal life and he wanted to live in you forever.

“Fuck, Atan, you taste so good. So good, how am I ever supposed to stop, huh?” You started grinding your hips around him, moaning loudly and you saw him dry humping the ground, trying to get some of his own release. The primal animalistic action was enough to push you over the edge again, coming all over his tongue, that was still lapping at your insides, without any intention to stop.

You tried to push him away, the feeling so overwhelming it was bordering painful, your clit so red and sensitive now it was glaring and obvious, but he didn’t relent.

“Fuck, you are intoxicating. Come on, baby, I’m not nearly done. We’re not nearly done.” He pushed two fingers in you, which was incredibly easy with the amount of slick and cum you were continuously releasing. Although so sensitive, you immediately clenched around him, taking him in, and felt the familiar ache slowly building in you again. He pushed his fingers deeper, until his knuckles made contact with your folds, and you felt his thumb slowly, gently rubbing your throbbing clit as his fingers were hitting your g spot mercilessly. The stimulation was too much, and you felt yourself seeking yet another orgasm, bucking your hips wildly against his fingers.

“That’s right, Atan. Let me see you come all over my fingers.” That’s all you needed to hear, and almost on command, you felt yourself coating his long digits with your cum. He removed his fingers from inside you and you cried out at the loss, but he didn’t care, too busy staring at his fingers, covered in the clear viscous liquid enveloping them. He brought both fingers to his mouth and he took them both in and sucked on them, and immediately kissed you, messily and forcefully, and you moaned at the vulgarity of it, and the taste of your own orgasms on his tongue, which was exploring your mouth like he had your folds earlier. You loved it, loved all of it, drunk on the feeling, on the connection you felt to this man that knew you, so well, so deeply, knew your body instinctually, like he touched you and had you all his life, and you squirmed when you realised that now you had a whole life to do this, every day, you would never have to live without this feeling again.

“Do you feel how good you taste, Atan? Fuck. I will never get enough of this.”

With one swift motion, he removed your top from around your neck and took its place, squeezing your throat until you couldn’t breathe anymore, slowly choking you. You threw your head back and arched your back, eyes fluttering shut, just taking in this feeling, of being completely owned, completely in someone else’s control. It was exhilarating.

“Look at you. Look at how you give in to me, it makes me fucking crazy.” He squeezed harder. “You drive me fucking crazy. I have dreamt about fucking you for so long. So many nights, having to stroke my cock imagining it was your mouth instead, you have no idea how badly I need you. How entirely and completely yours I am. You own me. My soul and my mind. It’s only fair I own your body.”

The hand that wasn’t around your throat went to his loincloth, that he removed skilfully, letting it drop to the ground around him. Your eyes fluttered open to take him in, his glorious body and that magnificent cock, that was even bigger that you ever dreamt, and you struggled to gulp in the position you were currently in. Your pussy clenched fully at the sight, and you were drooling now, saliva pooling around your mouth that you licked off like a kitty looking at her favourite meal. His fist wrapped around the girth of his cock and he started pumping himself, and you were close to being done again just at the sight, never in your life seeing anything more sensual, more erotic. You needed him inside of you now.

“Fuck, please, Neteyam. I need you in me.”

“I know, Atan. I need to be in you. I need to feel you milking me, like the good girl I know you are.”

With a couple more strokes, he lined himself at your entrance and slowly, deliberately, agonisingly pushing in, one inch at a time, stretching you deliciously, fully until he bottommed out, and you could feel him hitting your cervix, you could see his bulge in your lower abdomen. It drove you to the point of madness.

Your hand went to his ass, trying to push him even further in, despite not thinking it was actually possible for him to go anywhere else, but it was still not enough, never enough.

He removed your hand and gathered both of them and pushed them above your head, pining them to the ground with enough force that you couldn’t move them anymore.

“No, Atan. You don’t get to dictate this. We go at my speed.” And with those words, he started rutting into you brutally, giving you no time to adjust to him or to the pace. It was rough and wild and out of control, everything you have ever desired in your darkest, best fantasies. It was so dirty, so wrong it made your insides squirm in pleasure, in uninhibited bliss.

He maintained his pace for so long it was enough to steal two more orgasms from you. You were on the verge of tears, now, so overstimulated you didn’t know if you were feeling pleasure or pain anymore, but you didn’t care, you wanted more, always more of this, more of him.

“Fuck, Atan, I can feel you squeezing me again. You think you can give me one more?” You nodded weekly, trying to match his ruthless pace.

“I want to come in this pretty pussy. You want me to fill you up, Atan?” You could only moan at the words, unable to formulate any coherent thoughts or sentences, anymore. You were way past that. Your breath quickened rapidly and you knew you were really close, and he could feel you too.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, come all over my cock. I want to feel you come undone.” Those words were enough to rip another explosive orgasm out of you, and your clenching milked his cock dry, feeling thick spurts of cum fill you up, painting your pink walls white.

He collapsed on top of you with a thud, still buried deep in you, and you couldn’t help laugh exhilaratingly at his reaction, at what just happened, at the fact his was all real, not just an out-of-reach fantasy.

Eventually, he rolled from on top of you and stretched out an arm for you to cuddle up to him, which you did, feeling grateful for every moment, grateful for the intimacy.

You were both still panting, still recuperating and you lay in his arms in peaceful bliss, trying to catch your breath.

“Thank you.” You said playfully, drawing circles on his chest.

“What for?”

“For being an even better lay than I always imagined you to be in my dreams. Although I’ll find it hard ever being a productive member of this clan again going forward.”

He threw his head back and laughed, and the sound filled the forest and your heart, so relieved to be able to hear it again, so immensely grateful to get to experience these feelings in your life, that didn’t end prematurely no matter how many bad decisions you have made.

“You’re very welcome, Atan.”

You peered up at him bashfully, and you knew then you did at least one thing right in this life.

You fell asleep in his arms, and woke up in the link room, wide smile on your face. Max was waiting for you, and he returned your smile when he saw how happy you were.

“You look happy.”

“It’s just been a good day.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He looked at you playfully. “Do me and Norm have to give you the talk?”

“Shut up, Max. In a completely unrelated subject, though, can I have some birth control from the medical ward, please?”

Your body was weak, and you needed a while to adjust to being back here after a whole day in your other body, soon to be your only body. You felt weightless, despite the pain, so happy and so in love. Your knees were weak from the memories, and you felt a bit empty at the lack of touch, craving him again, even though he’s taken so many orgasms from you, you knew you were going to be sore walking back to the village.

You went looking for Norm, who was already waiting for you in the medical ward, ready to give you a new dose of the injection and take some blood to see how everything is looking.

“It was a beautiful ceremony last night. Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Yeah, definitely did. It was incredible, I have never felt anything like it before.”

“Are you ready for tonight?”

“I think I am. I opened the drawer, little by little, Norm. I think it’s time. I am ready to take my place amongst the people, I am ready for my body to belong, I am ready to not have to worry that this virus will turn around and kill me at any point. My mum and dad both sacrificed so much for me to have a chance at a better life. You guys sacrificed so much. You’re like my guardian angels. I owe you so much, and I am so sorry about how I acted. I hope you can forgive me.”

“Will you still come by and hang out once in a while when you’re not busy riding your ikrans and being an overall badass?”

“Always, Norm. I am still me, I am still a scientist at heart, and I am still human. Maybe my body won’t be, but I will also have my mum and dad, you and Max, a whole history and heritage that I don’t want to rid myself of.”

“Good. Then all’s forgiven, Ace. I am sorry too, for not telling you about Neteyam. It just didn’t feel like my secret to share.”

“I understand.” You got up after he injected you with the treatment and hugged him tightly, grateful for this man who is your family just as much as your mum and the Sullys are.

After resting, eating and taking a nap, you did your dialysis session for the day, and although loopy, you hopped in your Avatar body, still a couple of things you wanted to take care of before the transfer.

To your surprise, you woke up in your tent, a small blanket covering you. You smiled, realising Neteyam must have carried you back in the morning. He even put your clothes back on. You blushed at the need that immediately overwhelmed your body, and tried to calm yourself as there were more pressing matters at hand.

You made your way to the Sully tent, and heard Neytiri and Mo’at talking. Good, two of the people you were looking for.

“Mai’te! How are you feeling?”

“I feel great, sa’nok (mother). Thank you for last night, it was beautiful.” Neytiri brought her hand to her mouth in slight shock at your new name for her. She was so happy, it all felt complete now, after all this time.

You took her free hand in yours as well as one of Mo’at’s, and looked at them seriously, intently.

“I want to ask for your permission for the transfer. I realise a lot of talk has happened, done when I was a human, when I was sick. But I am not sick anymore. I don’t want you to do it because you are worried I will die. I want to be sure, I want you to be sure, that you want me as a Na’vi forever. That you are comfortable with me becoming my Avatar for life. I will not do it, if you aren’t. This means so much for me, and I know I have been a coward, for so long, but I am ready now. I am standing here in front of you, and I am finally ready, to be one of the people, to be in this body, to be your daughter. I just hope I’m not too late.”

They both looked at each other, and smiled, and looked back at you lovingly.

“Mai’te, we have waited for you all of our lives. You are the missing piece in this world, in our world. You brought forth a cure for an illness that has plagued the Na’vi for years and years. There is nothing we would love more than for you to be Na’vi. And there will be no better future Tsa’hik.”

Your eyes widened at Mo’at’s words, at the consent not only to join the clan, this family, but to do so as Neteyam’s mate, as the future spiritual leader of the Omaticaya.

“I won’t let you down.” You hugged both of them, tears in your eyes.

You eventually made your way out of the tent and looked for the only other person you had to talk to before this was all done. Neytiri told you where he could be, so you looked there first. Sure enough, you found Lo’ak deep in thought up a tree, above everyone else, and you climbed easily and joined him. He was startled by you, but he composed himself quickly and gave you a look that you couldn’t quite place. You could tell he had conflicting feelings, happy on one hand to not have lost you in one way, sad that he did lose you in others.

“Hey.” He was curt, and didn’t look at you, and a twinge of hurt settled in your chest. You had to make this right.

“Hey, you. Scooch.” He moved slightly so you could fit with him on the branch, which was more than wide enough to accommodate both of you.

“Lo’ak… please talk to me? I can’t stand the thought that you hate me. You’re my best friend. Please?”

“Is it true?”

“Is what true?”

“I saw you leaving with Neteyam last night, after the ceremony.”

You cringed a little, the thought of having this particular conversation with him close to unbearable.

“Yes, it’s true.”

Pain flashed across his face and you saw a tear, just one small tear, fall down his face. You reached to wipe it off, but he beat you to it, so you awkwardly let your hand drop.

“I’m sorry, Lo’ak. I’m so so sorry. But I have loved your brother my whole life. My whole life, ever since I was born, he was there. And I love you too, I love you so so much, but we wouldn’t be right together. You are the best guy in the world, and I am not even close to being worthy of you. Neteyam gets me. He gets the darkest side of me, he knows my darkest, worst secrets, he has been with me through some of my most traumatic moments. It’s never been that it’s not you. It’s just that it can’t be anyone else. My whole life, it was always going to be just him.”

“You are my best friend, and I will always be here for you. You will never lose me. You will never get rid of me. I found a season of Friends on my mum’s directory that I’m pretty sure we’ve never seen. I can’t do that with anyone else.”

“I know you are scared, and I think that’s why you asked me. Not because you think I’m the woman you want to grow old with, but because you’re scared that no one else will see you the way I do. And you’re wrong, Lo’ak. Everyone will see in time that you are the best person in the world. You are incredible. And so many girls will be falling at your feet soon, you will be angry at yourself for ever pining over someone like me. I know you are scared, but I am not going anywhere. Can you please forgive me?”

He turned and looked at you for a long time, intensely searching your face, maybe for a sign that you were lying, or exaggerating, but he couldn’t find any, as he eventually dropped his gaze and smirked playfully.

“Do you really think girls will be falling at my feet?”

“Yes, I really really do. You are a catch, mister.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well then, I have to forgive you.” You both laughed and your back pressed against the bark of the tree and you stretched your legs to sit in his lap.

“Now, about that season of Friends…”

You returned to your human form in the afternoon, and slowly started packing your life away, ready to relinquish this room, once your mothers, with deep sadness in your heart. You will all have to relocate from tomorrow, so you will probably not be back here except to help everyone else evacuate and move all the equipment. You’ll never be back here, you realised with a deep sigh. So many memories, so many bad ones, but so many good ones too, this place was your safe place, your little piece of heaven, despite all the hell you went through in it. As you packed all of your books and trinkets you collected in time, you found yourself tracing your fingers over every surface, trying to commit it to memory. The coffee stain on your desk that was made when Neteyam spilled your mug with his tail without meaning to. The scratches on one of the drawers from all the times you pulled on it with your finger, since the latch was a little broken and hard to open. The wear and tear from your ass print on the chair that you spent inordinate amounts of hours in, be it analysing data or watching shows, or reading with your feet carelessly stretched on the desk. You moved on to your bed, that you sat on, and you sighed at the thought of never being able to sleep on a bed again. You will miss the comfort of the mattress and the sheets, and the space to really spread out however much you wanted, looking like a little starfish every time Norm woke you up in the mornings and his subsequent laughter at your ridiculous poses.

It took a while, but you were done about an hour before eclipse. Neteyam knocked on your door, with eyes slightly widened at the state of the now empty room.

“I’ve never seen this place like this. It looks so barren without your touch.”

You sighed and tugged at the insides of your mouth with your teeth. “Yeah, it does.”

“Any regrets?” You turned around to face him, giving him a small reassuring smile and taking his hand in yours, the size difference always a stark contrast compared to your Avatar body.

“Never.” You eyed the bed playfully and raised an eyebrow, feigning timidity. “We still have some time… what could we possibly do to fill it, huh?”

He looked at you, and you could tell he was turned on out of his mind, but also gave you a reserved look. “We can’t… not like this, I will hurt you.”

“I don’t think you realise you’re not making the point you think you are.”

He closed the door behind him with his tail and stalked towards you. “Fuck, you will be the death of me, Atan.”

You made your way to the village a little after eclipse, and everyone was following you. All the humans, Norm and the other Avatars and Neteyam, who was carrying you on his back like you were his little backpack. You were flushed and a little disheveled from earlier, purple marks all over your body, but it didn’t matter. Your hours in this body were limited. In your back pocket of your shorts you had a box of birth control pills that Norm gave to you as you and Neteyam made it out of the room. You laughed at his reaction and yours, both of you awkward and embarrassed to have to address it whatsoever. You placed your head on Neteyam’s shoulder, peering up at the sky, like you used to do when you were little. The village was busy and roaring, everyone packing their lives up for the move tomorrow. People looked at you as you passed by, unfamiliar with your human form clinging to the future Olo’eyktan’s back. Jake and the rest of the family met you at the big bonfire.

“Heads up, everyone. It’s time!” You smiled, and looked next to him on the ground, where your Avatar body lay motionless and you had to take a second to take this all thing in, the weight of what you were about to do hitting you full force. You started breathing in deep, shallow breaths, and you felt Neteyam’s hands running up and down your thigh in a calming motion.

“You’ve got this. We’re all here for you.” You reached over and pecked his neck, in gratitude.

Everybody in the village, all the Na’vi were making their ways through the forest towards Vitraya Ramunong - they would all partake in the ritual. Neteyam was nervous, out of his mind with worry and fear, although he didn’t want to impart that to you, so he carried you gently, trying to be strong, as he was sure your mind was also laced with concerns. What if you didn’t come back? Neteyam quickly pushed the thought out of his mind and cursed it for making him think about such things, making his heart constrict in his chest in pain at the mere thought. Of course you would make it. A part of him was also excited about the ritual. It would be the first time anyone under 19 would get to see it, to experience it, it was only the third time it would have ever been performed. It was a powerful ritual, hence why they needed everyone.

The tree was as breathtaking as it always has been, and Neteyam had to inhale deeper to accommodate for the deep charge of the atmosphere, for the thickness of the air. He heard the ancestor’s voices, buzzing quietly all around him. As soon as you reached the natural platform on which the tree resided, Neteyam put you down next to his family and tried to not think of all the images flashing across his mind’s eye of all the unholy things you two did last night right in this spot. His grandma was giving out orders about where to place your Avatar.

“Are you ready?” Said Mo’at, in her usual no-nonsense fashion.You gulped loudly, and Neteyam couldn’t help wince. Everybody was on the edge.

“Yes, I think I am.” He saw you turn around to face him and the rest of the family, as well as Spider, Norm and Max.

“This is it, I guess.” You grabbed his mother and youngest sister’s hands in yours, and squeezed, a small tear falling down your face.

“I love you, guys. Thank you for everything all of you have done for me. I am so excited to join this clan and your family, forever.”

Neteyam watched as you lay on the ground, naked except for some leaves covering you. He was going to miss you, he realises. This body is the only one he’s known you as for 18 years. He’s spent so may days and nights with you, with this small person who had so much in her, so much beauty and intelligence, so much hurt and pain, so much personality, so much fierceness and grit and so much care and empathy, he didn’t know where it could all fit in such a tiny body. You’ve grown up together, a human and a Na’vi, learning so much from each other, adapting together to the world around you and to each other’s mind and soul. He was going to miss this body, the body he fell in love with, the toothy grin and wild eyes so unlike anything he’s ever seen, your beauty marks that he used to trace with his finger and eyes.. and mouth, as of a few hours ago. You were everything, and have always been regardless of your difference in species, and colour, and height. He mourned a little, he realised, for the you you’re leaving behind, but was also incredibly thrilled to have you as one of the people, as his mate, mother of his children, Tsa’hik, for the rest of his life.

He hovered over you the whole ritual, unnerved at the way the tendrils were emerging from the ground and slowly enveloping you, until there was almost no bare skin left to see. His skin was covered in goosebumps at the experience, as the chorus of people asking Eywa to grant you life in a new body, undulating their bodies in unison, and his grandma’s words. It was unlike anything he’s every experienced.

Tìng mikyun ayoheru rutxe, ma Nawma Sa'nok. (Hear us please, Great Mother)

Pori tireati, munge mì nga (Take this spirit into you)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Ulte tìng ayoer nì'eyng hu ngeyä ya (And breathe her back to us)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Tivìran po ayoekip (Let her walk among us)

Na Na'viyä hapxì! (As one of The People!)

Srung si poeru, ma Eywa (Eywa, help her)

Eventually, the ritual came to an end when Mo’at screamed for everybody to stop. Neteyam reached over to your face, and removed your mask, kissing your cheeks and your hands, and saying a quiet “I love you” before he moved on, anxiously waiting to see if you would open your eyes. He let out a panted breath as you did, smiling tiredly at the family who was now jumping on you, making you choke slightly.

You laughed and his eyes found yours in the manic scene unfolding in front of him. You smiled lovingly and reached out a hand for him to grab.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan. It’s good to see you.”

You were sad as you were carrying your body, you tiny human body in your arms, and lowering it in the ground next to the Home Tree. You saw your family place a flower each in the little cove where you now lay, and you carefully redirected an Atokirina towards it, and watched as it landed on you, making its home in the little gap made by your foetal position.

You will miss this body, and all the memories you made in it. You will miss looking in the mirror and seeing your mother’s eyes and hair, you will miss being able to play her guitar. This body, however tiny and weak, was your home for 18 years, and it has stood by you no matter how many times you treated it badly or betrayed it. It kept you alive in a world that could kill you in an instant, and you were sorry to have to leave it behind.

“Thank you. Thank you, mum and dad, for giving me life and gifting me this body. Thank you for taking care of me, I know it wasn’t easy to keep up with this messy mind. Thank you.”

You turned around and fixed your gaze on your mate, the love of your life, the one that made it all bearable, and when met with his dazzling warm smile and his touch that set your soul ablaze, you couldn’t help be excited at the adventures that lay ahead of you, that you will always brave together.

-the end-

EPILOGUE

The man felt weak and dizzy, the entire room spinning and making him well nauseous. He didn’t know what was happening, what any of this was. He saw a bright light flashing across his eyes and he groaned in pain and annoyance at the way it was making his vision spotty. He grasped the hand of whoever it was that was doing this to him, and he was relieved when it stopped. It took him a long time to adjust to his surroundings, and was met with shock when realising he was in some sort of medical ward, surrounded by people in white coats. His gaze fixated on his hand, that was still wrapped around someone’s wrist, and couldn’t understand what he was seeing in front of him. Blue. A blue striped hand, that supposedly belonged to him.

“Captain, Captain Barlowe, can you hear me? You’re ok, you’re just disorientated. It’s gonna take a while to settle your mind, so take you time.”

He raised assertively from the bed he was laying on and made his way to the reflective windows all around him. He stood there, still, just taking it all in, finding it hard to understand, to process what was clearly displayed in front of the mirror. His body, in an Avatar.

“Captain Barlowe, due to your outstanding military record and previous acquiescence with this project, you have been chosen as one of the select few to carry out a special op on Pandora. You will be briefed shortly, but right now we have to make sure everything is in order.”

“I’ll be damned.”

For everyone who’s made it this far, I am so excited to announce the sequel series, The Archer, that will tackle all of the events of the Way of Water x coming to you soon 💕💕

Tag list (thank you thank you thank you x): @nuhteyam @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @mashiromochi @puffb4ll @sassy-persona @simp4ff @mommyneytiri @inomoikawa @jackiehollanderr @jaysarchiv3 @meivap @dakotali @hlhl99 @eskamybeloved @erenjaegerwifee @winchestertitties @mommyneytiri @ultimatebluff @elizarikaallen @yeosxxx @ssc7514 @lolcaca @jackiehollanderr @bunnyrose01 @therealbloom @neteyams-queue @r1dd1kulus @whore4neteyam

@kikookii @iliyoo @velvetskies @rebeccao03 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

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