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#anyways in summary I hate my body and my mind
miley1442111 · 2 days
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(part 7) choices in hindsight- a.donaldson
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summary: eleven years later.
(dw there are more parts after this :))
pairing: art donaldson x reader, patrick zweig x reader
warnings: angst, feelings of disappointment and depression, hurt, cheating, loneliness, etc.
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Eleven years later….
You sat beside the umpire, your opponent smashing her racket in frustration as tears fell down her face. You were tired. Every bone in your body ached, your muscles were tense, your skin felt too tight. 
Your mind was worse. Playing tennis since you were a little girl does that to someone. Being in the public eye does that to someone, being alone does that to someone.
“You fucking bitch!” She shouted. “You fucking bitch!”
You didn’t care about it, the match was done, and you’d won. As usual. 
You hated tennis. You hated your life. Your lonely, empty life. 
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“How about a challenger? To boost your motivation?” Your manager, Michael, offered. 
“I’ll do whatever,” you shrugged. 
Michael stopped in front of you, stopping you from walking. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m fine,” you plastered on a fake smile. “Just tired.”
“In what sense?” He asked. He’d always been able to see right through you. You rolled your eyes. 
“In the sense that I’m completely alone and I’m sick of knowing that I’m a winner while I feel like a failure!” You exploded. “Tashi and Art got married. Patrick isn’t anywhere near as good as he was. I have no friends. I have no family. I have nothing but a bunch of cold, metal trophies, and a team who don’t care if I want to play anymore. All they care about is my game. And I fucking hate tennis!” 
Michael stared at you, face hardening. “You really had to do that in front of everyone?” He asked. You looked around. Your team was around you, but so was your next opponent.
“I’m not exactly worried,” you snarled. 
Michael rolled his eyes. “Go win the match, then we’ll let you have some alcohol and you can drown your sorrows.”
“Fuck yourself!” you shouted as he walked away. 
“How can I do that when you’re constantly fucking me over anyways!” He shouted back. 
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Back on the court again. Another subpar player against you. 
HIT. You’re worthless. HIT. You’re awful. HIT. You’re nothing. HIT. You deserve to be lonely. HIT. You deserve to be alone. HIT. You deserve to feel worthless.
HIT. Be better. HIT. Be stronger. HIT. Be more. 
HIT. 
“We have a winner!” 
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“Come on!” Lily shouted from beside him, her eyes on the court as you won, yet again. She’d seen her mother do it so much she was turning it into a catch-phrase. 
“She’s pretty good, right?” He chuckled, his eyes never leaving you. He didn't want to let himself admit it, but god you looked good. The white tennis outfit you had on was practically making him weak in the knees, as well as the 'I don't give a shit' attitude you carried with you. You were simply leaning in your chair, a drink in hand as your opponent screamed to her manager about how unfair playing against you was.
I mean she wasn't wrong. You were the top female tennis player and you were practically unbeatable. You were incredible.
“She’s amazing!” Lily smiled. “When does she play again?”
“Tomorrow,” he answered. He had your schedule memorised. 
“Can I meet her?” 
Art shook his head. “She and mom have a complicated history.” Also, I’m still madly in love with her.
“How so?” Lily asked as he walked with her, hand in hand to the concessions stand. 
“Well, back in college mom and her didn’t get along because mom couldn’t beat her-” he started but he felt Tashi beside him. 
“You’re lying to Lily now?” She snarked. 
Art felt his skin go cold. “No. It’s true-”
“I beat her,” Tashi nodded. “Dad used to date Y/n as well, isn’t that right?”
Art nodded and Lily looked up at him.
“That’s weird,” she confessed. “Why did you break up?”
“I was in love with mom,” Art lied and kissed Tashi on the cheek, the entire display looking awkward and rehearsed. His regret and resentment grew everyday. He’d never regret having Lily, but he regretted everything he did to you, and letting you get away. 
“That’s gross!” She squealed, shielding her eyes from her parents kissing.
“Alright peanut, what do you want?” He asked, moving up in the line and getting ready to order. 
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HIT.  Train harder. HIT. Work harder. HIT. You deserve nothing. 
The ball hit into your side and you groaned out in pain. “Fuck!”
You let yourself rest on the ground, not even bothering to turn off the automatic ball-throwing machine. 
“Hi,” a familiar voice smiled at you. Your eyes opened to find Patrick Zweig over your head. 
“Hi,” you mumbled, getting up. 
“How are you?” he asked, following you as you began to hit the balls again. 
“Fine,” you grunted out. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” he smirked, watching your figure as you bent to hit a ball. “Very good.”
“Your dad give you a job yet?” 
Patrick’s fantasy was broken. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “No, not yet.”
“Too bad. You’d make a much better corporate asshole than the piece-of-shit tennis player you are.”
“Tread easy,” he chuckled, a touch of pathetic begging in his plea. You just rolled your eyes and continued on your exercise. 
“How about you go fuck yourself, Patrick?” Tashi scoffed from the stands, Art beside her. 
“How can I go back to that when she fucks me so well?” He joked. HIT. 
“Leave her alone Pat,” Art sighed. HIT. 
“Why are you defending her?” Tashi questioned, turning to Art. HIT. 
“She is right here in case you don’t see her,” Pat defended. HIT. 
“Pat we fucking know-” Art started, but it just ended up in Tashi talking over him to the point that Patrick started talking over both of them in the argument. 
HIT. HIT. HIT. 
“All three of you can fuck off!” you screamed. “I never want to see your stupid face again Patrick, Tashi you can stop flaunting that you got the love of my life, and Art, go be a dad or something! I don’t care anymore!” 
All three of them turned to you with various faces. Patrick was smirking, happy he’d finally pushed your buttons to the extreme. Tashi looked awkward and caught, maybe even guilty. 
But Art. Art looked at you like you’d hung the stars just for him, then tore it all down in front of him. His beautiful blue eyes filling with tears as he finally got to hear you admit that he was the love of your life, only eleven years too late. 
“I’m content with being alone, as shit as it is. I suggest you all move on from me now,” you sighed, grabbing your bag and walking off to find you manager. 
“See you at the challenger!” Patrick called after you. The ATP Challenger Tour. 
The same one from eleven years ago. 
Where everything fell apart. 
You got that familiar sinking feeling in your stomach.
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art donaldson masterlist :)
navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games, challengers :)
people who asked to be tagged :)
@fkaams
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daemour · 2 days
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Pairing: poly! WooSan x gn! Reader
Word Count: 4587
Warnings: cursing, implied sexual activity, arguing
Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, T for teen
Summary: In a relationship with Wooyoung and San, you feel left out of their activities. One evening, it all blows up.
this is my baby :') (yes i keep saying that about my fics) but i spent a lot of time on this and i think its one of my best works lol,,,,i hope u enjoy! i do have a second, shorter, part with the aftermath if you'd be interested
thank you to @hobeemin for betaing <3
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You’re sitting on the couch with two pairs of legs in your lap. To anyone else, it would look like a sweet scene. Your boyfriends cuddling while you watch them fondly. But you’ve never felt so alone before.
You knew you were the addition to the relationship—San and Wooyoung had been dating for a long while before they met you, and it took another few years for them to ask you to join their relationship. After crushing on the two of them for so long, you had leapt at the chance to.
At first, you were just happy to be there—to have them smile at you sweetly, hold your hand, and press you into the sheets so well. But as time passed, it felt like being there was all you had to be happy about.
Sometimes, you wonder if you had just misconstrued the whole thing. Maybe they just wanted a roommate they could fool around with. Or you’re just reading too much into it. It’s only been six months since you were invited into the relationship.
As you’re contemplating your relationship with the two, your boyfriends stand. You only notice because of the weight leaving your body. “Hey, babe, Sannie and I are going to the bedroom, okay?”
“Oh– is there anything I can do too?” The desperation in your voice is evident, and you hate that it is. San’s eyes soften but both he and Wooyoung chuckle. Not meanly, but not kindly.
“Not today. Enjoy the movie.”
They each drop a kiss on the top of your head, and just like that, you watch them slip right through your fingers again.
You do your best to sit there and not feel upset; you try, but the pinch in your heart doesn’t go away. They’ve never been so outwardly…dismissive of you, and you’ve had quite enough of it. After a long five minutes of unhappy thoughts swirling around your head, you stand. You’re not sitting around and letting yourself feel like the second (or third) fiddle.
You blink back the angry tears threatening to fall as you pull on your sweatshirt and search for your phone, only to remember you left it on the bedside table. You’re not about to barge in on and grab it so you settle with your keys. You won’t be out for too long anyway.
As you leave the apartment, you do your best to close the door behind you as quietly as possible. The crisp fall air clears your mind, and you can think properly about your relationship. You just cannot allow yourself to continue to hurt like this. They’re a package deal to you and will come hand-in-hand with you in your life. You may love them, and they may be fond of you, but in the end, you’re just a plus one. 
The realisation hits you like a ton of bricks, and you clap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sob that escapes. It hurts you deeply, and you don’t want it to be true. You want to believe they need you just as much as you need them, although you know the thought is futile.
You shudder as you finally let your sobs calm down, and your heart returns to a normal pace. You can’t stay there much longer if you don’t want to lose yourself. As you head back to the apartment, you hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat, unwilling for San and Wooyoung to see the state you’re in.
But that proves unnecessary—when you walk back in, San is sitting on the couch, a new movie is on the screen, and Wooyoung is prepping dinner. A quick glance at the clock tells you that you’ve been gone for about an hour and a half. Your blood boils as you realise they hardly noticed your disappearance, but you force it back to your gut. Blowing up now would be counter-productive.
Your phone is right where you left it, but as you try to escape, San calls out for you, “Oh, YN. Woo and I wanted to ask…” Your breath catches in your throat, hoping for something. “Do you want to join us next time?”
It takes all of your willpower not to laugh. “No, I don’t think I will.” Such a tone of mockery had never left your mouth directed at them before, and you snap your mouth shut before you say something else. San’s eyebrow rises high into his hairline.
You hear Wooyoung chuckle from the kitchen. “That’s fine. We have more fun without you anyway.”
And you know, deep down, he didn’t mean it maliciously. Wooyoung doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He was just trying to be funny and lighten the mood from the tension he had heard in your voice. But he didn’t know he (and San) was the cause of the stress, and all he does is relight the anger in your gut.
“Oh, so I’ve realised,” you mutter, and this time, San’s other brow raises, and he interrupts.
“What do you mean by that?” He moves to cross his arms, and you scoff.
“I’m sure you know damn well what I mean, Choi San. I get it. You guys have been dating for…longer than you’ve known me. It’s understandable you guys sometimes just want to be together without me.” You pause to take a breath, and San looks just about constipated. “But…I genuinely cannot remember the last time the three of us went on a date or included me in anything other than just sex. And even that, once in a while. What is the point of me being here?”
“Why didn’t you just talk to us?” Wooyoung asks, having moved from the kitchen to stand in the doorway. His brows are furrowed, and he looks so confused that you almost want to forget your argument. But it’s gone too far already, and words won’t stop pouring out of your mouth.
“You would rethink your already comfortable relationship for me? Don’t be silly.” You cut off Wooyoung’s attempted argument. “Maybe you would’ve thought about it, but come on. I’m me. I’ve known you guys for four years; you’ve been dating for seven. I asked to join you guys all the damn time, but all I got was getting brushed off. Forgive me for not having the confidence to confront you two.”
You run your hand through your hair, blinking back your tears. “I can’t imagine this relationship without you guys, but to you two? I’m just an afterthought,” you state, shaking your head.
Before your soft heart gets the better of you and you fall to your knees and take it all back, you turn right back out the door, your phone clutched in your hands this time. Wooyoung and San make no move to go after you, and it hurts more than it should.
You’re not in the mood to walk and wallow, so you sit in the parking garage, ordering a taxi. As you wait for your ride, you hear footsteps thundering up to you, and you know what’s coming.
“Are you actually leaving?” San’s voice comes from behind you, a tightness to it you haven’t heard before.
You keep your eyes forward and nod. “Yes. I need some time to myself. I…I won’t leave forever, at least not for now. I don’t want to give us up, but I need time to rest my heart. And you guys need time to process, I’m sure.”
The taxi you called is pulling up now, and you stand. After hesitating, you turn around and wrap your arms around San’s waist. There’s no wait on his side; his warm and strong arms come around your shoulders to squeeze you gently. Your eyes are shut tightly, knowing that if you open them, you’ll want to go right back up to the apartment.
“Tell Wooyoung I said ‘sorry’,” you manage to choke out, and you can practically hear San’s melancholic smile.
“You have nothing to apologise for, but I will if it makes you feel better. The only reason he didn’t come down is because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.” San sighs, running a hand through his hair. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry we’ve made you feel so alone. It was never our intention, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that it happened.”
You sometimes wish San wasn’t so sweet and lovely and perfect. And you sure wish Wooyoung didn’t feel as strongly as he did. If they cared less, it would’ve made your hurt and betrayal less sharp in your chest. But you don’t want them to be guilty, and you don’t want Wooyoung to cry.
“I…won’t be gone for long,” is all you have left to say to San before you cram yourself into the taxi, and will your tears to not fall until you get into the safety of your apartment that doesn’t even feel like home.
As soon as you reach your apartment, you collapse to your knees and cry. With every sob, your chest heaves and your throat aches. But you’re finally able to let out all your hurt, and after an hour or so, you feel as refreshed as you can be. You hope it will work out in the end for your sake and theirs.
You sink into the familiar comfort of your couch, a sigh escaping your lips as the silence of your apartment envelops you. It's been two weeks since the tearful confrontation with San and Wooyoung, two weeks since you've allowed yourself to feel the full weight of your emotions. The initial relief of expressing your pent-up frustrations has given way to a dull ache of longing and uncertainty.
Days turn into nights, and the silence stretches, punctuated only by the occasional text message from San and Wooyoung, their words a mix of apologies, reassurance, and pleas for you to come back. You read and reread their messages, your heart torn between the desire to run back into their arms and the fear of being hurt again.
Yeosang, your closest friend, becomes your lifeline during this time, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the storm of your emotions. He listens patiently as you pour out your doubts and fears, offering his unwavering support and gentle guidance. "They miss you, you know," he often reminds you softly, his eyes reflecting a deep understanding of your inner turmoil.
"I miss them too," you admit, your voice barely a whisper. "But what if it's not enough? What if we can't bridge the gap that's grown between us?"
Yeosang squeezes your hand reassuringly. "You won't know until you try. They're willing to work on things, YN. Don't let your fear rob you of a chance at happiness."
His words echo in your mind, a constant reminder that you can't stay hidden forever. You need to confront your fears, to have that difficult conversation, and to decide whether the love you share is strong enough to overcome the challenges you face.
As the days pass, you find yourself slowly emerging from the cocoon of your self-imposed isolation. You start venturing out, meeting friends for coffee, taking walks in the park, trying to rediscover a sense of normalcy amidst the chaos of your emotions.
But the longing for San and Wooyoung never truly fades. It lingers in the quiet moments, in the empty spaces beside you on the couch, in the memories that flood your mind when you least expect them.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you call Yeosang, asking him to meet up with you for coffee so that you can figure out how to approach your relationship with San and Wooyoung. He agrees readily, and promises to set aside some time at lunch tomorrow to hear you out.
“You miss them, too.” You blink at Yeosang’s statement, before heaving a sigh and taking a sip of your drink. As usual, he doesn’t waste time with small talk and just starts with the point of the meet-up. “You’re putting off this discussion for far too long, YN.”
And he’s right, as he usually is. It’s been about two weeks since the breakdown, and you’ve managed to avoid most attempts at reaching you, placating them with a ‘soon’ whenever they text you to ask. But you’re a little too scared to reopen the conversation. What if they hate you and don’t want you anymore?
“They don’t hate you,” Yeosang interrupts your spiralling with an all-knowing look. You swear he can read your mind, and he swears you’re just easy to read. “You both just need to have a long conversation. Of course, it may not work out properly, but if not, they need to know it for future reference.”
You bite your lip, sighing like the weight of the world rests upon your shoulders. “Stop being so smart, okay? I know I should. I’m just…I don’t know how to start.”
Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “First, you should set up a date to talk. I recommend calling them.” He easily dodges your slap. “Seriously, YN. I can’t tell you what to say. Just go talk to them properly. They’re not gonna be unreasonable. They like you.”
If you sighed anymore, Yeosang would probably smack you himself. “Fine. I’ll call them tomorrow.” Yeosang narrows his eyes, and you know he’s seen right through your lie.
“Call them now. I won’t bother you or be loud.”
You start to whine, but Yeosang fixes you with such a glare that you pull out your phone begrudgingly. Your hands tremble as you dial Wooyoung's number, knowing San would probably be at work right now. The phone rings once, twice, and your heart squeezes in hope and disappointment that he hasn’t picked up yet.
You’re just about to hang up when the phone picks up, and Wooyoung’s breathy voice crackles over the receiver. “Hello? YN?” He sounds like he just ran a marathon, and you can’t help but smile. The sound of his voice on the other end of the line sends a wave of warmth through you, a bittersweet reminder of the love you've been missing.
“Hey, Wooyoung. Sorry for never getting back to you guys.” You can already feel the awkwardness and tension through the phone call. “Uh…when are you guys free to talk?”
You can hear the eagerness in Wooyoung’s voice as he responds almost immediately. “Don’t apologise, YN, okay? San and I are free tonight after five. Would you like to come round to have dinner? I’m making spicy pork belly soup. If not, tomorrow evening also works at the same time. If you need more time.”
He’s one word away from practically begging on his knees, and you feel your heartstrings tug. “Yeah, tonight works if that’s okay. Is six-thirty okay?”
“Yes!” Wooyoung has no hesitation when he answers you. “Just come up whenever—you know the door code.”
“Okay, thank you again,” you say, seconds from hanging up when his voice cuts through the phone.
“YN. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. And I’ll see you tonight.”
He ends the call before you can say anything else, and you’re left staring at the phone longingly. Yeosang’s chuckle brings you out of your thoughts. “Told you they don’t hate you,” he hums, a small smile on his lips, and you roll your eyes at him even though your heart warms.
“Should I bring a gift? Like wine or something? I don’t know…they’re feeding me. And it could be a peace offering.”
Yeosang laughs again, amused by your dilemma. “If you want to, it could be a nice gesture. But really, I think they just want to see you again.” He reaches over to you to squeeze your hand. “You guys will be just fine, okay?”
You nod, offering him your own crooked smile. “Thanks for sitting and talking, Sang. I appreciate it.” Your eyes dart to the side. “I should probably go see if I can find a proper bottle of wine, though.”
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The bottle of wine in your hands is clutched so tightly you fear it may shatter in your sweaty grasp. You’re almost too scared to knock, but your longing to see your boyfriends (were they still your boyfriends?) overrides your fear, and you tap on the door lightly. It might be presumptuous to just walk in, even though Wooyoung told you they didn’t change the door code. You’ve done it many times before, but these circumstances are different.
Before you can chicken out and call it off, the door swings open, and San stands before you, his hair messy like it always ends when he tries to style it without help. Your fingers twitch as you keep yourself from reaching up to smooth it over. “...Hi,” you greet him instead, eyes flitting down to your hands. “I brought wine.”
“Thanks. Come on in. Wooyoung’s finishing up now.”
He steps aside, and you pass him, trying not to flinch as his comforting scent fills your brain. Oh, how you missed him and Wooyoung. The apartment is unchanged, and a picture of the three of you is still hung on the wall. “I hope you’ve been well?”
“Yea. I’ve been keeping busy.” San closes the door behind you, running a hand through his messy hair, which only serves to worsen it. “How about you?”
You shrug as casually as you can. “I’m doing well. Just been working…” There’s a long pause where neither of you knows what to do. “Do you need help with anything? Where do you want me to put the wine?”
San shrugs. “There’s not much to do. The table has already been set. Do you want to wash up or anything? I can pour the wine.”
You nod, handing over the bottle, being careful to avoid San’s touch before excusing yourself to the bathroom. You can practically hear the disappointed sigh leaving San’s mouth and you feel a sharp stab in your heart at how upset he seems to be but you remind yourself this is important. As Yeosang said, they have to be aware of what issues you’re having.
You glance at your weary face in the mirror, wiping at some smudged makeup and fixing your hair, taking any moment you can get to calm yourself down. When you can hear low murmurs in the kitchen of San and Wooyoung talking you know it’s about time for you to get out of the bathroom.
When you turn the corner into the kitchen, Wooyoung greets you with a tentative smile and a wake of his spatula. “Hey, YN. Hope you’re doing well. Are…are you hungry? It’s almost done.” Wooyoung speaks carefully like he’s triple-checking the words he wants to say before they come out of his mouth.
“Of course,” you laugh awkwardly. “Your food is always good. I hope you’re doing well too.”
It’s almost painful how tense the atmosphere is, and both you and Wooyoung cast a glance at San as if pleading silently for him to resolve it for you two. Before any of you guys can speak, the rice cooker beeps, slicing the thick stress in half and all three of you laugh. “Let’s eat,” San cheers, his eyes crinkling in the smile you missed.
The three of you move towards the seats, where three glasses of wine sit and side dishes are scattered around. Wooyoung holds the stew in his hands, setting it down in the middle of the table as you and San take your seats.
The dinner is mostly silent, aside from a couple of hums in delight at the taste of Wooyoung’s cooking. As much as you would deny it, you missed this. You missed being near them, being able to share the same space with them. As the three of you eat, you sneak glances at both San and Wooyoung. Aside from the tousled hair, San seems pretty put-together, with an easygoing smile on his face and dimples still prominent. But the dullness in his eyes is clear and he smiles and giggles way less than usual. Wooyoung’s face is lined with worry, hints of stubble peeking out, and you’re embarrassed to admit you find it attractive. His hands fiddle with his silverware as he eats, and the guilt returns to eat at your stomach.
“So…” you try and break the silence carefully, and both men’s eyes quickly focus on you. “...my brother’s boyfriend adopted a cat secretly and Hongjoong is livid, but I caught him cuddling with the cat just two days ago.”
San chuckles. “Sounds about right. Seonghwa definitely seems the type to. What, did he find the cat on the side of the road and ‘just couldn’t let it starve out there’?” You snort at San’s imitation of your brother.
“Almost spot on. It’s like Seonghwa is sitting right here, really.”
And with that, the conversation continues almost completely normally, like nothing had happened two weeks prior. Wooyoung prods at San’s cooking like always and you defend San but can’t help but throw in a jab of your own, one that San reaches over and pushes gently at your shoulder for.
At the touch, you freeze and Wooyoung’s eyes dart between the two of you. A long moment passes until you finally laugh stiffly and push him back. “What can I say? It’s true.”
Wooyoung smiles at the both of you, the corner of his lips crooked. “Good to see you take his side as always when it comes to cooking,” he teases. “Maybe I’ll make him cook next time.”
Next time. Your breath catches at those words and both San and Wooyoung take note of your hopeful reaction. “I’ll hold you to that.”
-
After dinner, all of you shuffle into the living room slowly, knowing exactly what must come. None of you want to start the conversation, but it must happen. You sit first, hands wringing in your lap. San and Wooyoung sit right next to each other, but not far from you.
“We could draw straws?” Wooyoung speaks up, his hands gripping the couch beside him. “To see who goes first.”
You don’t quite know how to react, but unlike the last time Wooyoung tried to be silly, you understand it isn’t coming from a place of malice. “I think that’s a great idea, Wooyoung,” both you and San agree, and although Wooyoung’s body tenses a tad more, his eyes soften.
“Thanks.”
With shaking hands, you hold out the straws Wooyoung had given you. Both San and Wooyoung draw, keeping their pick hidden until you pick yours. Long. San uncurls his hand and reveals his. Long.
Your gaze shifts to Wooyoung who looks just about ready to throw up at the prospect of going first. “Of course it’s me,” he laughs soullessly. “I suggested it, so I end up being first.”
“If you’re not comfortable–”
Wooyoung stops San with a quick squeeze of his hand. “No, it’s okay. I have a lot to say.” Without further ado, he turns to face you, his eyes pleading and his brows furrowed. “YN, I’m sorry. I was inconsiderate of you in the relationship, and although I meant no harm, I hurt you when I commented on ‘having more fun without you’. Although I tried to keep tension low, it only served to hurt you and I apologise for that. I should’ve been more attentive to you and considered how you may have felt when San and I went off to do our own thing without you.”
You feel a wave of relief wash over you, your heart warming at his heartfelt apology. “I really appreciate that, Wooyoung,” you hum. “I missed you a lot, and after a couple days of cooling down, I realised you meant no harm, and I could’ve told you how I felt about that with more maturity. I…I hope you don’t mind if I go next.”
San waves his hand, gesturing for you to go on. “Of course,” he agrees readily, squeezing Wooyoung’s hand gently.
“I’m sure my…complaints…about our dynamic were pretty clear. I felt left out, excluded, and separated from the two of you. And what I was feeling was valid, but my reaction wasn’t. I am sorry about how I went about talking to you guys. I assumed you wouldn’t care, and so I kept it to myself and let it boil over. And just running out on you guys was unfair of me. I didn’t explain, nor give you guys a chance to explain.”
San nods empathetically. “I was indeed hurt by your immediate assumption that we wouldn’t care. I thought it was clear we care about you—I mean, we did watch that show together and we asked if you wanted to join us next time. If you were really feeling hurt, I do wish you brought it up sooner.”
You sigh, looking down at your twisting hands, bringing one of them up to your mouth to chew lightly on the nail. “Like I said way back, I was insecure about the two of you changing your relationship dynamic just because I wanted it. Maybe it was stupid, I don’t know, but the hurt I felt wasn’t stupid. Sure, we watched the show, and sure, you asked me if I wanted to join next time. But that was it! I was an afterthought. You dismissed me when I said I wanted to join, and yet you asked me why I didn’t bring it up before?”
Before you can sink your teeth any further into your nail, Wooyoung leans forward, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth and bringing it to his lap. “Don’t bite your nails, YN. I’m sure San didn’t mean to be dismissive,” he pleads, elbowing San lightly in the ribs, who winces and nods sincerely. “I’m sure you understand, we were just hurt you didn’t trust us enough, although your reasons are understandable. We want to make things right, though, and we want you to be comfortable to talk to us about your insecurities and worries.”
“Yeah, I didn’t mean to be so defensive,” San concedes. “I got too caught up in wanting everyone to get along, I got ahead of myself. I pride myself on being the calm one, but I was too passive and that quickly turned into self-righteousness.” His hand moves to rest atop yours and Wooyoung’s, his thumb gently rubbing circles into the soft skin.
“We still want you with us, YN,” Wooyoung cuts in, “and we want to change for you. We talked about this when you were gone, and we’ll respect your decision to leave if you so wish, but we really would like to try and work this through.”
You pause for a moment. You could walk away right now, minimizing any potential hurt that could follow. But as your eyes land on your conjoined hands, any minute wish to leave is immediately squashed and you smile up at the two of them. “I want to stay too.”
San matches your smile and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. Before anything else happens, he pulls you forward, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders as he engulfs you in a warm hug. Without hesitation, San quickly joins, pressing a kiss to the top of both your and Wooyoung’s head.
As they murmur promises of how they can include you more, as well as soft ‘I love you’s  in your ear, you can’t help but relax at their showcase of love. Things will turn out all right.
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torukmaktoskxawng · 3 days
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tsamsiyu ta'em - calm before the storm
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Masterlist - part seventeen
Summary: Just as the chapter's title suggests. It was the calm before the storm…
Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character
Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic
posted on ao3
Word Count: 11k+
Warnings: Fluff! Some awkwardness that happens after one makes a confession lol. Trauma regarding torture, loss of a child, body dysmorphia, etc. There's a plot twist at the end of this chapter ;)
Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31 @jamie-poopoo @brittney69 @avatar-lover @ikeyniofthetayrangi @cardi-bre91
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A/n: Hiii 🥰 I'm very sorry for the hiatus that I originally promised wasn't going to be a hiatus. To escape life, I dove into other fixations such as Destiny 2, the Fallout show, Dune Part 2, and Bridgerton... yeah, I did some bouncing. So far, my summer has been fantastic! Anyway, here's another chapter before I inevitably disappear again 😂
Enjoy!
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If there was anything Kayla was extremely grateful for, it was that Spider didn't have a heightened sense of smell as the Na'vi did.    
She could smell both Ronal and Tonowari on her skin, and while it internally delighted her, she felt her skin prickle at the thought of Spider of all people being traumatized and learning about her very recent courting by smell alone as they share close quarters with one another. The thought mortified her more than anything, more than the idea of eventually having to tell Jake.
Thankfully, Spider returned home that day none the wiser, Ronal and Tonowari already long gone even with their scents still lingering in Kayla's nose. She felt like a teenager again, embarrassed and trying to hide it from her parents. However, she quickly stomped down that thought at the harsh reminder that she's a grown-ass woman and Spider wasn't a very judgemental kid. He was also someone who had caught onto Ronal and Tonowari's interest in Kayla early on and wouldn't be surprised if he learned the truth. 
With that in mind, Kayla emerged from her kelku the next morning wearing the new top the Metkayina clan leaders had gifted her. For a very brief moment, she felt exposed and uncomfortable, the woven beads cool against her skin, but then, she looked down at herself and felt her body relax to see that the top covered just about as much as her threadbare red shirt did. It wasn't even close to revealing as some of the tops Kayla had seen Na'vi women wear, even with the low cut. A small part in the back of Kayla's head felt delighted to realize that this top was definitely made for her.
She still wore her shorts, but the small change in attire was still noticeable as she quickly learned. Na'vi eyes silently observed her as she walked through the village, and even though she heard the Metkayina whisper as she passed them, they weren't hateful or disgusted, but more in awe. Her skin crawled because she didn't know if she preferred it or would much rather have them feel indifferent to her again. 
While their eyes all noticed her top, Kayla almost felt the need to throw her shirt back over herself at the thought that the Metkayina might also smell her new scent as well. It would explain the way their noses would twitch and their ears all perk up and turn in her direction when they haven't even noticed her presence yet. 
If Spider noticed any of it, he didn't say a word, instead, he informed Kayla that he would be deep-diving with the other reef boys that afternoon. Something crawled in her stomach at the reminder of Ao'nung and other reef boys leaving Lo'ak alone outside the reef before she sternly told Spider to make sure either Lo'ak or Tsireya was with them. Apart from the small, suspicious stare, Spider didn't question her, taking his new bow in hand and heading out to meet his friends, waving back to Kayla as he went and promising to be back before supper.
Walking along the beach, Kayla recognized the tsahik from a mile away, fingers entangled in a worn fishing net. As Kayla walked over to the other woman, she watched the way Ronal's ears lifted and moved in her direction. Ronal looked up from her work and recognized Kayla from a distance, and by the time the dreamwalker approached her, it wasn't hard to deduce how pleased she looked, eyes dancing approvingly over the avatar woman's figure, reaching a hand out to lightly adjust the top on Kayla before nodding once with confidence,
"It suits you perfectly. I was afraid it would not be able to hold up against your beauty."
Despite having a young Na'vi body, Kayla felt as though her heart was ready to give out, her feet barely catching when she initially stumbled in reaction to Ronal's compliment. Kayla's eyes quickly averted, the tip of her ears feeling warm as she quietly thanked the tsahik and changed the subject, making plans to see both her and Tonowari later. After making a brief conversation as to what each other's plans were for the day, Kayla had turned to leave but nearly jolted out of her skin when she felt a gentle tug on her tail. She couldn't help the feigned glare she threw back at Ronal, internally delighted by the rare mischief she saw in the Metkayina woman's eyes, but trying not to show it. Kayla's fake irritation only appeared to amuse Ronal forward, the tsahik tilting her head at the avatar while appreciatively staring her up and down once more, forcing the heat from Kayla's ears to travel down her neck. 
The avatar cleared her throat and then finally departed, hiding her own smile as she thought back to Ronal's well-hidden playful behavior. It was nothing like the woman who sharply tugged Kayla's tail the day they first met, further showing just how much things have changed around here.
Summoning an ilu, Kayla makes her way through the reef, reaching the atoll wall where all the various pools travel up one side like stairs, catching various sealife whenever the tide rises up and down. Dozens of Metkayina are fishing and gathering in these pools, with nets, and baskets at their feet. Kayla zeros in on one particular Na'vi and swims over after letting her ilu take off, climbing up onto the slippery wall to make her way over to her friend.
Rutxa looks up and appears smug at the sight of Kayla, blue eyes pointedly narrowed on the avatar's new top while dramatically sniffing the air, "You look... enamored. Had a good evening?"
Kayla's eyes narrow, "Don't play dumb. I bet you're just dying to weave a story about it."
Their grin remained playful, humming dramatically as if deep in thought, "Perhaps if you tell me all about it, I won't have to... fabricate any details."
Kayla lets out a humorous scoff, shaking her head, "You're horrible."
"Yes, that was what my mother called me. Don't abuse it."
The laugh that bubbles out of Kayla coincides with the screech of an approaching ikran. The sound makes Kayla pause and look up to the sky in order to discover which ikran. She only had to briefly catch the color to know the banshee was Neytiri's bonded, and a small wedge of dread made its home in Kayla's chest.
Neytiri lands her ikran gracefully, several yards away from any Metkayina as they go about the pools of the atoll wall. The Na'vi woman looks around before her eyes land on her intended target. Kayla half expected her sister-in-law to bristle at the sight of her, but she felt a small bit of genuine confusion when all she saw was a woman who was trying to appear small and guarded. If Kayla wanted to verbally taunt, she would've pointed out to Neytiri that she almost looked guilty. The two women stare at each other for some time before Neytiri takes a deep breath and starts slowly walking forward, her face pinched with dread at the idea of the long-awaited conversation she was no doubt forcing herself to partake in.
Kayla takes her own deep breath and then motions Rutxa to wait here before drifting over to meet Neytiri halfway. While it felt as though they walked forever to reach each other, both women found themselves standing right in front of one another only seconds later, neither saying a word while their eyes never fully meeting, both hesitant to say anything at first due to their ongoing impasse. 
Neytiri looks Kayla up and down before she swallows her pride, both visibly and internally as she opens her mouth, "Your clothes. They are lovely."
The Sully sister's eyes dart off to the side, her words are stiff but courteous, "Thank you."
"Did the tsahik make it?"
The mention of Ronal made Kayla's ears twitch, "What gave it away?"
"It would explain why she asked me about making a bow for Spider. And--" she takes a small whiff of the air around her mate's sister, "You smell like her. Tonowari, too."
"... I see. Don't tell Jake."
She raised a hairless brow at the other woman, "I will not need to. He will smell it."
Kayla pointedly doesn't blink, finally staring directly into Neytiri's eyes with a stern expression, "Which is why I am avoiding him at the moment."
Neytiri quietly observes Kayla, yellow eyes piercing into one another's gaze, trying to sniff out each other's thoughts. The Omatikaya woman is wracked with bafflement. It is a beautiful thing for one to finally find their mate, or, in this case, mates. It should never be something to be ashamed of, as newly mated pairs often run to their families to excitedly share the news. The fact that Kayla would rather hide and avoid Jake baffles Neytiri. She wanted to hiss and scold both of the former sawtute for what was clearly a spat between siblings, along with a dash of pride, but at this time and place, she knew Kayla wouldn't accept nor appreciate her scolding. 
Still, it bothered the Na'vi woman. Neytiri knew the two siblings had a lot of conflict between them, but to go as far as to not share such wonderful news with each other? Neytiri would give anything to be in Kayla's position. She would've given anything to be able to excitedly share life updates with her own sister once more. Sylwanin used to love hearing how Neytiri's day went before bed, even though Neytiri wasn't in turn thrilled to hear about what her sister and Tsu'tey would get up to in the woods. Then again, Neytiri was the only person her sister trusted with that information, and it shattered Neytiri's heart to think how she had taken that for granted. She will never make that same mistake again, and any secrets Sylwanin entrusted to her will die with Neytiri.
Hence why she couldn't bring herself to deny Kayla when the other woman was clearly trying to tell her not to share her secrets with Jake. Neytiri exhaled through her nose and nodded in defeat, "I will not breathe a word." 
Kayla stiffly nodded and briefly looked away, peering over her shoulder to see if Rutxa was still waiting for her. Neytiri's conflict was easily undetected, watching Kayla when the avatar wasn't looking with a pained expression in her eyes. Everything that had come between the two women lately was pounding against Neytiri's skull, begging her to say something, to make things right, to finally confess her sins out loud. It has been plaguing her ever since the boy-- ever since Spider confronted her about her distaste and mistreatment toward him. Ever since he made her stand in the eyes of her inner demons, her hidden thoughts no longer feel as hidden as they used to be and she's been struggling to accept everything he said was true. 
'Denial is a river in Egypt.' It's a phrase she's not familiar with, but it's something she remembered Grace used to say when Neytiri was a child. When the scientist explained what it meant, somehow it threaded its way into Neytiri's head, and she had yet to forget about it. No one could deny Neytiri's grief after everything she's been through, but neither could anyone deny how unfair she had been to Spider his whole life. Despite knowing how innocent he was, Neytiri refused to See him. Despite eventually accepting Jake and loving him for who he is, she couldn't do the same for Spider, and despite knowing how that hurt the child, she didn't care. Or at least-- not at the time. The fact that she didn't care for a child and his feelings was something she came to terms with long ago, but staring Kayla in the face and simply stating she wasn't Spider's mother haunted Neytiri in her sleep. 
The expression Kayla gave terrified Neytiri, guilt riddled her mind and heart. She didn't originally care how her words might hurt Spider, but the guilt she felt when her words affected Kayla felt like she took an arrow through the stomach. It only got worse when Neytiri took the time to look around and see everyone else's reactions. Those who mattered most to her, her husband and her children, all had looked at her as though they didn't recognize her. They looked at her as if she was some sort of monster. After spending time to herself, replaying her words to Spider and everyone's faces, Neytiri finally admitted to herself that they were right. She was a monster. She might not be like Quaritch, but she shouldn't go around and pretend she was better than him, especially after they both held a child at knifepoint for the sake of another.
Neytiri had looked down at her reflection in the water that same day -the day Spider called her out- and suddenly realized she no longer recognized herself. Even though there were things no one could blame her for, there were still moments in her life where Neytiri knew she could've done better. Yes, she let her children play with Spider, but she never once acknowledged him. She didn't have to claim him as hers, but she could've at least made the boy feel welcome. She could've invited him to a family dinner at least once, or given a comment or two on how to properly hold a bow when she caught him trying to teach himself. 
So many instances flash over Neytiri's eyes, instances where she could have shown kindness or care to a little orphaned boy who had done nothing but admire her family and love her children with every fiber of his little being. But she didn't. And when she thought back to the young woman she used to be... before Hometree and before her father... before Tsu'tey and Sylwanin... that young woman would have shown such kindness to Spider. By Eywa, that young woman might have even grown to love him as she had grown to love Jake.
Regret will forever be her friend as Neytiri finally comes to accept that she was wrong. Feeling a little more courageous with Kayla's eyes no longer on her, Neytiri spoke up once more, albeit a little more softly, and with the most sincere regret, "I am sorry."
Unaware of Neytiri's internal conflict, Kayla's eyes return to hers, squinting with disapproval, "It's not me you should be apologizing to."
Neytiri pressed her eyes shut for a moment, the guilt bleeding into her expression as her ears pinned back against her skull, "I am sorry to you as well. I had threatened your son. I almost killed him in front of you."
"He's n--" Kayla's words caught in her throat, then she swallowed them down and looked away again, trying to hide the small pain in her voice, "Thank you."
Neytiri nods, voice a little more sure, "I would not be any better than the monster who took my son away from me if I took yours."
Kayla wanted to be firm and agree, but her tongue swelled in her mouth, with something itching at the back of her mind that told her not to sound petty and vindictive. A question kept nagging at her, the same question Kiri once asked her. What would she have done if she was in Neytiri's place that night? It was a scenario she couldn't imagine in her head, even if she could imagine a lot. 
She hesitates, her posture relaxing and less guarded as she softly asks, "Can... can you explain it to me? So that I can try to understand?"
A visible wince flashed over Neytiri's expression, her eyes wide with distress in response to Kayla's question. Neytiri wasn't sure she could describe what she felt... not without breaking down, that is. Then again, it had been the first time anyone had asked her how she felt instead of just assuming and giving her time to herself. She didn't want that anymore. She's had plenty of time to herself, and a part of her was angry at everyone who continued to give her a wide berth. Solitude was something she no longer needed, and she wanted everyone to stop treating her like she was going to break.
Perhaps talking about it was something Neytiri needed just as much as Kayla in order to feel some sort of comfort. The idea makes her take a deep breath and slowly answer, "It is not the same as losing a parent, in my eyes. I lost my father, and even though I miss him every day, we are told that our parents will join Eywa before us and that they will be waiting for us there when we eventually do the same. For a child... it's different. A parent should always go before their child. That should always be the way of things... and that was stolen from me. You might not know this, but you should be prepared for when Ronal has her child. When we are born, the first tsaheylu is with our mother. To form that strong and emotional bond. To lose the first child I ever bonded with--"
Kayla's tail and ears lower, blinking rapidly to contain hidden pain, her imagination running wild with everything Neytiri had described. It helped that Neytiri was trying to explain it... but Kayla couldn't imagine how it must feel for a grieving mother to say all of this out loud.
Neytiri sucks in a sharp, wheezing breath, but it wavers and her lips begin to quiver. Her eyes grow wet with tears as her hand reaches up to try and gently claw at her chest, visibly and verbally shaking, "The pain for my father and even my sister do not compare... I feel as though I have a gaping wound in my chest that will not stop bleeding. It's always there, ever flowing, and I cannot take a breath without remembering it. My baby who I had kept safe inside me for so long... suddenly ripped from my arms before he could find love... or have a family... or be the olo'eyktan he was always meant to be... I had always wanted to see him as a father, and now I will never have that."
Saying it out loud felt as though she was living Neteyam's death all over again. Fresh tears spilled down Neytiri's beautiful face, carving a familiar path down her cheeks as a sob interrupted her explanation. Her chest squeezed painfully, and her sobs only got worse as Kayla suddenly reached out and pulled her into a tight embrace, purposely hiding Neytiri's face as the grieving mother continued to cry her heart out, wishing she could just be numb. Neytiri didn't miss the way Kayla buried her own wet face to hide from the world, nuzzled into Neytiri's shoulder. The female Na'vi continued to sob, and even though the grief was still too fresh, it helped to have finally put it all into words. It helped to know that someone was trying to understand her when she felt as though everyone else could only pity her. 
"I'm sorry..." Kayla whispered as Neytiri's cries began to subside, "I could never imagine what that feels like."
Neytiri didn't miss how her shoulder felt wet where Kayla's face lay, and something inside the Na'vi woman snapped into place. She didn't want Kayla to imagine. She didn't even want Kayla to understand because that would mean having her sister-in-law go through the same agony she went through. Neytiri didn't want anyone to go through the loss of a child, let alone her husband's dear sister. The thought of having Kayla go through pain similar to hers nearly brought Neytiri to anger. Determined and dry of her tears, Neytiri pulled away, lifting her hands to rest gently on Kayla's shoulders, fixing her with a sharp eye.
"I do not want you to ever experience this pain. I do not want you to end up like me, ma tsmuke."
Kayla shook her head, "There's nothing that says it's wrong to end up like you. You're a good woman and a good mother. You're fiercely protective of your children. Any mother would thrive if they were even remotely like you," watching doubt and pain creep back up Neytiri's face drives Kayla to quickly add, "And I was wrong if I ever suggested otherwise. I never blamed you for protecting your children, Neytiri."
"I know," the Na'vi woman whispers, eyes briefly lowering to the ground in shame, "But I should have never belittled you for protecting yours."
The two women stand in silence once more, now filled with understanding as two mothers protecting their young. With her newfound determination, Neytiri raises her head high, straightens her posture, and stiffly nods, "If you'll allow me, I will go apologize to the boy."
Kayla is silent for the moment, carefully watching Neytiri before slowly replying, "... I better not hear that you hurt him again."
"You won't." 
And with that, both women nod and part ways. Neytiri moves back in the direction of her ikran while Kayla stands still and watches her leave. Wiping the remaining tear tracks on her face as she walked, a thought crossed Neytiri's mind, making her pause in her tracks. A brief memory of Sylwanin flashes through her mind, happy and glowing as she tells Neytiri that Tsu'tey had begun courting her. It was a small pain in her heart at the memory, a small pinprick of a needle, faint but still causing her heart to bleed at the thought of her sister. Swiftly turning back around, Neytiri briefly sees Sylwanin in the flesh, standing there with a beaming smile before the facade fades, and reverts back to Makayla, whose head was tilted while quizzically watching Neytiri. 
Neytiri's breath stuttered for a moment before the words began to tumble from her mouth, "For what it is worth, ma tsmuke, I am happy for you. If Ronal or Tonowari or either of them hurt you, I will kill them for you."
The words briefly stun Kayla, eyes wide and jaw open with shock, before the spell breaks and she finds herself laughing. The needle in Neytiri's heart fades, along with the pain of her sister's memory. Neytiri found herself smiling as well, proud that she pulled such a reaction from her new sister.
~~~~~~~~~
As promised, Spider came home before dinner, and Kayla looked up from cleaning her AR with a smile, "Hey, kiddo."
"Do you have to do that a lot?" Spider tilts his head down at the weapon with curiosity, then briefly looks back at his charge, "Will it not work otherwise?"
Kayla rolls her lips, unsure of how to explain to a child who prefers the life of a Na'vi compared to humans. She shakes her head, "It could jam, for one. I have to clean it for the same reason you have to eat. It needs to function."
Spider nods and says nothing else, which sounds off a dozen other bells in Kayla's head, quick to understand that his questions and attempt at small talk usually meant something else was going on and he was deflecting. She knows that behavior all too well. She sets the weapon aside and gives all her attention to the teen, knowingly smirking at him, "What's up?"
His eyes immediately dart away, arms folding in around him as if to protect what little there was left to hide. He looked embarrassed, ashamed he had been caught as he mumbled under his breath, "Neytiri apologized."
Her expression melts into something solemn and sincere, nodding once, "I know."
"Did you make her?" He asked with suspicion in his gaze.
"No, but she asked me if she could."
"How come?"
Kayla shrugged, feigning innocence as she tried to play nonchalantly, "I'm guessing she was under the impression I didn't want her anywhere near you."
He stared at her for a while, unconvinced, "Right."
Then he moved on to the next topic, "'You gonna break your link tonight?"
Kayla groaned quietly, playfully rolling her eyes up at the ceiling of the marui, "Yeah. Norm radioed earlier to pester me, and I figured I'd see how everyone was doing. 'You need me to tell him anything?"
"My spares' got plenty of battery. I'll be good for a while. Tell everyone I said hi."
"You got it."
~~~~~~~~~
She wakes in the link bay with a queasy stomach and a splitting headache.
It wasn't nearly as bad as the last time she broke her link, but the moment the blinding lights of the biolab flashed in Kayla's face as the lid of the gurney was lifted, she felt her stomach turn and she had to bite the inside of her cheek. 
Sitting up with a stifled groan, Kayla holds her head in her hand, trying to stop the bright room from spinning. Norm, dutifully standing beside her with his arms crossed, decided not to beat around the bush, even in her weakened state, 
"You can't keep doing this, ya know. Staying back there for long periods of time is going to kill your body here, one day at a time. It's safe to say you've reached the limit of human-avatar links."
"Maybe that's a good thing, Norm," Kayla muttered, able to roll her shoulders back and sit up straight without feeling dizzy, "With data like that, the RDA won't be able to get the go-ahead with building avatars for civilians. This can keep them at bay for a while."
"But it's not a good thing for you, Kayla."
"I know. I just..." she tried waving it off, avoiding Norm's narrowed gaze like a child being scolded, "I just need a little more time."
Norm scoffed, unimpressed, "You're stubborn. Just like your brother."
When that doesn't pull a reaction out of her, Spellman decides to break more bad news, "There's more. Scouts have reported seeing a rogue ikran dressed in military gear flying through the mountains, and it's pretty close to our base. They've confirmed the rider to be Colonel Miles Quaritch."
Clouded eyes flick briefly to Norm, widened with shock before Kayla looks away again, exhaling her opinion, "Fuck."
"I thought maybe you could tell Jake for me when you get back."
Kayla is silent for a few moments before she replies, "No. No, let's not tell him."
"What?" Norm rustled.
"If we tell Jake, he'll just wanna come back and track Quaritch down. Maybe that's what Quaritch wants. Right now, Jake needs to be with his family instead of looking for revenge."
Kayla's eyes return to her friend's, wide and pleading, "Please, Norm. Please don't tell him."
They have a silent stand-off, the occasional sound of machinery breaking said silence. Eventually, Norm's posture sinks in defeat, making him look smaller and older than he actually is, "... Fine."
"Swear it."
"I swear it... unless he asks me."
Kayla scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Fine."
"... When you say you need more time, I meant when I said you're just like your brother."
She silently watched him with confusion but didn't verbally ask what he meant, waiting for him to elaborate. Norm looks off to a far wall, recounting very distant memories he hadn't thought of in years, "He was also running out of time, and he was getting desperate. He said he needed more time; time to see Neytiri again."
When Norm looked back at Kayla, he noticed she was purposely keeping her own gaze glued to the floor, her long matted hair covering most of her face, mumbling to a point where he struggled to hear her, "It's not like that this time."
"You're lying." Norm immediately retorts, taking a gamble on his theory when Kayla doesn't immediately try to defend herself. They both knew she was lying only to herself, and Norm didn't hesitate to point it out, "Something's changed."
Seeing no point in lying or keeping it secret, Kayla sighs, "Tonowari and Ronal have officially asked to court me."
Norm's eyes widen, "And...?"
"I agreed but asked to wait on the rest of it until I'm officially one of the People."
"Smart..." He couldn't help it. He needed to lighten the mood and feel a little smug. Norm deserved that much as a boastful smile spread across his face, "Also 'I told you so.'"
Kayla scowls, her eyes finally looking up at him to express how stolid she felt, "Dick."
He snorts, unaffected, finally moving to sit down next to her on the gurney, "So... do they know about... you know... the fact you can't have kids?"
Her posture visibly stiffened, "It didn't come up, no."
"That's probably something you need to discuss with them, Kayla, and soon."
"I know."
His hand reaches out to lightly tap her knee, "I am not saying that it'll be a deal-breaker for them. I don't think they'll care, to be honest. But you don't keep secrets from the people you love."
"Hey," she nudged him back, trying to force a teasing smile on her face, "Why do you think I'm telling you all this?"
"How sweet," Norm scoffs goodnaturedly, "But that's just you trying to deflect."
~~~~~~~~~
It was strange being able to sleep in the shack again, and even more strange to be the only occupant. Kayla looked around the tiny man-made space, eyes flicking to her bunk, the desk, the small kitchenette, and then the vacant wheelchair she never had the heart to throw out when she first arrived at High Camp. It now lay folded up and leaning against the corner wall, former white letters that spelled 'Sully' now unrecognizable. A fond smile graced her lips when she thought back to the three weeks she and Spider stayed here and the teenager struggled to figure out how to balance on the accessible chair as it rocked on its back wheels. The attempt ended with him falling and rolling backward and leaving Kayla in a fit of uncontrollable laughter that he eventually joined.
The thought of her boy made her chest squeeze uncomfortably for a moment, the feeling of loneliness suddenly very apparent in this small shack. How strange that she was sitting in a place she had once tried to call home, but now she felt homesick for an island that was oceans away, or in her case, one neural link away. Realistically, she could go lay down in a link bay and wake up in her marui, awaken to Spider's nivi swinging slowly just off to the side of hers as he sleeps. Kayla shook her head and smiled to herself, amused at the idea of walking to the link bay only to be intercepted by either Norm or Max, both men who had adamantly told her not to link back until it was early morning in Awa'atlu so both her human and avatar form could receive separate reprieve. 
As much as she would like to entertain the idea of rest, the lingering silence in her shack made it feel as though the walls were closing in around her. Kayla knew she wouldn't be able to sleep if she were alone, so she kept herself busy instead, starting with her overgrown hair.
Looking into the mirror that night, a small sense of normalcy returned when she had managed to cut her hair to the same short length she had when she first arrived on Pandora. While her reflection didn't initially scare her anymore without any matted long hair or sunken eyes, Kayla still had a hard time recognizing the woman in the mirror without blue skin or a piercing yellow gaze. It felt wrong and her skin prickled and itched with this revelation. A twisted part inside of her wanted to try and scratch her face off until she recognized it, but she refrained from doing so, knowing how delusional it sounded. It felt as though she was living in someone else's body and she needed to return to hers despite the logical voice in her head reminding her that she was born in this body, as a human, not a Na'vi, and she was foolish to believe otherwise.
The unrealistic voice in her head argued that there was nothing wrong with being a little foolish.
~~~~~~~~~
Waking in her avatar gave Kayla a wave of relief, sitting up in her hammock and stretching as if she had never left. The worries of the night before are immediately forgotten as she and Spider venture out of the home to search for friends and family.
The three reef children Spider has been associating himself with were the first of the day to greet them, and it was clear that the silent news of the Metkayina's clan leaders' courtship was not lost to their children. Kayla was surprised when Tsireya ran up and hugged the older woman's waist, the girl giddy and unable to contain her bright smile. Spider tilts his head curiously at the interaction but otherwise says nothing. 
Kayla took a peek at the girl's brother and saw a slightly different story. Ao'nung was glaring, but not at Kayla or Spider. Ao'nung was scowling at Rotxo, the latter of whom looked gobsmacked while staring up at Kayla, unable to hide his shock even as he turned to his best friend to see his reaction. Ao'nung only scoffed and shoved Rotxo's surprised face away with one hand, mumbling to Spider that they should get a move on.
"Where are we going?" Spider asked curiously. 
"Father wanted to show you how to weave our fishing baskets."
His play on words wasn't lost to the group, certainly not to Kayla and Spider. The adult avatar managed to hold back the wince at the thought of Spider silently noting how Ao'nung didn't say 'my father', but did her best to pretend she didn't even notice. Instead, Kayla decided to follow Ao'nung and Spider to the chieftain's marui, while Tsireya and Rotxo had split up to do some chores, promising to catch up with the other reef and Sully kids later. 
Tonowari greeted them as they entered, both he and Kayla sharing a secret smile as she crouched down beside him. Having many obligations around the village yesterday, the olo'eyktan had only been able to see Kayla from a distance and had yet to get a better look at how she appeared in her new top apart from what Ronal had described to him. Kayla could tell how much he enjoyed seeing her wearing his courting gift by the way his large hand grazed over her skin, encompassing her back whenever both Ao'nung and Spider were occupied with the task he had given them.
The two teenagers were busy weaving large pieces of what would eventually become a fishing basket between them, taking up a lot of floor space with the amount of dry grass, seaweed, and pliant wood being used to fashion and form such a large item. Tonowari was mostly instructing Spider on how to do it since Ao'nung was already skilled in basket weaving, but the chief's son was also impatient and this served as a way to tame such impulse. The olo'eyktan works effortlessly alongside them, his words gentle yet stern,
"Work together, like brothers. You are building a house. You're building your village. You're building a family."
Kayla restrains her smile, despite how warm her chest felt while watching the three of them work together in weaving. She allowed herself to play at the idea of this image being hers one day without trying to get her hopes up. As she watches Tonowari instruct Ao'nung and Spider to take turns weaving their basket pieces together, she gives into the desire to call them 'my boys'... but only in her head.
~~~~~~~~~
Flashing lights, spinning faster and faster while his eyes are forced wide open to watch, feeling as though something sharp was penetrating his skull, embedding itself into his memories...
His screams go unheard this time, and no one comes to stop the machine, not even Quaritch, as the blood drips from his nose, bare skin cold against metal. Spider feels as though his head is going to explode--
Sitting up in his nivi, Spider finds himself gasping for air while his eyes try to get accustomed to darkness... no flashing lights in sight. His hammock gently swings with him as he moves, his mind taking an embarrassingly long time to remember where he was. Spider takes a bunch of large, greedy gulps of air, his breathing mask hissing in tandem, while he looks around the marui to remember he isn't alone. 
Kayla was sitting up in her hammock and carefully watching him. Spider's mind briefly felt shame for being responsible for waking her, but he was too busy breathing to form an apology. It's not like she would accept it anyway. The two of them have already spent countless nights waking up due to Spider's nightmares, and Kayla has been adamant in assuring him that he wasn't at fault for any of it. Once she knows Spider is aware of her presence, Kayla silently stands up and moves over to the kid, standing over his nivi as he's sitting up, starting to relax.
When trying to talk, his throat felt raw and his voice only added to it, "... Hey."
"Hey," Kayla bravely reaches out to cup the back of his head, her hand a gentle, warm weight that feels a lot better than a cold, metal slab, "Was it the scanner again?"
He nods, but the moment Kayla goes to step away, something inside him panics. It felt stupid and childish, but Spider couldn't stop the impulse that made his arms move around Kayla's torso and pull her into a tight hug, pressing his mask up against her ribs as his body started to uncontrollably shake.
Kayla froze, arms raised in the air with hesitancy, blinking multiple times to ensure she was still wide awake and not just imagining this. The teenager only burrows further into her as if she had just found him lost in a shopping mall. For several seconds, she didn't even dare to breathe so as not to spook him before she eventually began to relax and gently settle her large arms around his shoulders, her voice softer than before,
"Alright... it's alright, Spider. You're safe now. What do you need?"
"Just," Spider huffed, feeling incredibly stupid yet distressed at the same time. He knows he shouldn't be acting so small and meek, but the idea of going back to sleep terrified him, "Talk. About anything."
The marui is filled with silence as Kayla wracks her brain to come up with things to say, and then decides that now might as well be as good of a time as any, especially if it meant helping distract Spider from his nightmares, "... Ronal and Tonowari have asked me to be their mate."
Initially, he's quiet while digesting the news, but he's honestly not surprised. He thinks back to the way both clan leaders and even their children had been treating him differently today and the day before. It explains the certain looks Spider has seen other Metkayina give Kayla and her new attire... and it would possibly explain Neytiri's sudden apology to him.
Instead of pointing all of these signs out to his guardian, Spider just snorts in his mask and keeps his arms around her waist, "I told you so."
"Shut up," Kayla huffed under her breath, but even he could tell there was no heat behind it, especially since her arms only tightened around him, "I'm not taking an 'I told you so' remark from a sixteen-year-old, especially since I already got that from Norm. I'm dense, okay?"
Spider laughed and let the silence linger for a minute before reopening his mouth, "... So? Did you accept?"
"Not entirely. I told them I wanted to wait until after my Iknimaya is complete."
"Makes sense. That's usually the way it goes. Courting sometimes lasts years for the Na'vi, so it's not entirely something they wouldn't be used to. You did the right thing."
Kayla's tail leisurely sways behind her, the tone in her voice sounding hopeful, "You think so?"
He closes his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel like a child for once, to be held and comforted before he answers quietly, "Yeah. I do." 
~~~~~~~~~
While it was an honest answer, there were slightly different intentions behind it. Spider was impressed by the way Kayla handled her courtship, and any respectable Na'vi would approve of her mature decision to wait. However, Spider now felt as though he was racing against the clock, and at least this way, he still had some time to prove himself useful.
Now that he was proven right that Ronal and Tonowari did, in fact, wish to mate with Kayla, Spider felt the need to work harder and become a more willing and helpful individual. He did what he could without the ability to connect with a tswin and tried to always give a helping hand whenever and wherever. Offering help wasn't hard, especially if he offered it to Tsireya since she always had something for him to do, but some Na'vi still have a hard time accepting Spider's help for... obvious reasons.
But even if the Metkayina didn't want his help, the human teen wasn't just going to lie down in defeat. He found many ways of helping around the village, either by his friends' side or himself, now that everyone wasn't as worried about leaving him alone. Other than to help with chores, Spider barely spent time with his friends outside of work, too busy trying to keep himself relevant. He wanted-- no, needed to pull his weight, too ashamed of the idea of being useless to the point he would get left behind again. As silly as he felt for still having such fears... it was still warranted. He wanted to give the Metkayina a chance to trust him and consider him a viable part of this village so they wouldn't make him leave. As much as he missed the Forest, he couldn't bear the thought of going back alone. So if his friends and his... guardian were staying here, then so was he, and he was determined to prove that he deserved to stay here.
These thoughts plagued him almost every waking moment and thus distracted him from the world around him. While Spider was busy gutting and cleaning some fish Lo'ak had caught, he was approached by the very clan leaders he sought to impress, but hadn't noticed their presence until they spoke,
"Hello, Spider."
Spider's posture straightens instinctively in response to Tonowari's strong voice. Looking to his right, the teenager glanced up and met eyes with the olo'eyktan, standing tall beside his mate and greeting the boy with a pleasant smile. Spider stood up and appropriately greeted the clan leaders with a gesture of his hand and a small, almost sheepish smile, "Hello."
"Is your bow of any use?"
It was difficult to see behind the mask, but Tonowari could've sworn Spider's eyes brightened at the mention of his bow, "It's solid and nicely made. Thanks again."
"Of course."
Spider briefly glanced at the silent Ronal, and he felt as though he imagined  the smile on the tsahik's face and quickly looked away to pretend he didn't see it, "Uh... is there anything I can do for you two?"
While Ronal may or may not have been smiling, Spider dared to describe Ronal's tone as sounding almost light when she spoke, "There might be."
Tonowari chuckled at her being vague and decided to specify for the boy who looked between the two of them with such confusion, "We came to ask for your blessing."
The boy tilts his head, "My... blessing?"
"To court your guardian, Makayla te Suli."
Spider appeared uneasy by their motive, crossing his arms over his chest while the confusion was still evident, "Why are you asking me? Shouldn't you be asking Jake?"
Ronal snorts lightheartedly, "Makayla has been vocal about who we should and shouldn't be asking for permission. It's not her brother's approval she wants, it's yours."
He stood there, motionless, trying to figure out the ever-growing puzzle in his head that was made in Kayla's image. He didn't know why she would tell both of her future mates to seek him out over Jake, someone who was related to her by blood, despite their differences. While Spider understood that Makayla felt responsible for him, that didn't mean he was suddenly entitled to any life-changing decisions she had to make. It's not like her decision to join Ronal and Tonowari's family would affect Spider... much.
The idea of being left in an empty marui came to mind, but he quickly stomped the image down, glancing off toward the ocean as he finally gave the two clan leaders his answer, "Then... yeah, I guess it's fine."
~~~~~~~~~
They must have told Kayla his answer, because once she returned home, Spider was met with a cautious look in her eyes,
"And you're really okay with this?" She asked without even greeting him.
Knowing what she was talking about without even asking, Spider only looked at her with the same confusion he had given Ronal and Tonowari, "Yeah?"
"Kid, I'm not doing anything that's going to make you uncomfortable."
Guilt ate away at his stomach, his sole purpose of trying to remain useful to the Metkayina still at the forefront of his mind. He didn't want Kayla to hold herself back for the sake of his comfort. That would only make him a burden and that was the last thing he wanted. He needed to prove that he didn't need her should the day come when she moved into the chieftain's marui and he was left behind.
Trying to keep his expression neutral, Spider tried to explain this to her without having to go into detail about his insecurities, "They're going to be your family someday, not mine."
Realization dawns on Kayla as her eyes widen, "Is that what you want?" When he doesn't answer, keeping his head lowered, Kayla tries a different approach when she feels as though she was onto something, "'Cause personally, I'd rather have you with me on this. I go where you go, kiddo and anyone who gets with me will have to deal with that."
Stunned, he looked up at her with disbelief, unable to help how accusatory his voice sounded, "Why? Why do you care so much?"
There it is. A question that should've been asked a long time ago, but Spider had always been afraid to ask, so confident that he wouldn't like the answer. As for Kayla, she had always been afraid of the day he'd finally ask her because she wasn't sure if she would be able to say the right thing or even give an honest answer. Half the time, she knew she was winging it when it came to taking care of Spider, but... isn't that what most people have been telling her parenting is all about? As much as she wished to continue being stubborn about it or outright refuse it, Kayla had to admit to herself that even if she would never be Spider's mother, she was the closest thing he had to a parental figure. And... she knew, deep down, that's what she wanted but she had been putting her own wants aside if it meant that's not what Spider wanted.
But clearly, he wanted to make sense as to why she wanted him to be comfortable with their new clan leaders, along with everything that came with them, so finally, Kayla took a deep breath and put it all out on the table, "Because you're a kid, Spider, and you deserve a family. I'm asking you if I can officially be your family. And who knows, maybe one day Ronal, Tonowari, and their kids could be your family."
Spider sucked in a sharp breath of air without realizing it, the soft hiss of his mask filling the marui. His nerves made him want to instinctually laugh it off like she was joking, but he didn't picture Kayla to be the kind of person who joked about such things, especially when he was involved. Replaying her words in his head, he almost believed he imagined it; like it was muffled in the back of his mind because that's what he wanted to hear her say... and yet the words had matched up with her mouth as she spoke... had he imagined it?
There was a small, nasty voice in the back of his head telling him that of course, he imagined it because why in her right mind would Kayla want to be his family? He's nothing but trouble and Kayla was being courted by the leaders of the Metkayina, two respected individuals whose image would surely be ruined by Spider's very presence. 
Another small, more kind voice in his head told Spider that Kayla was right and that he deserved to have a family. Sure, it might not be the family he was born into or the family he had wanted practically his whole life, but it could be his, the family he actually needed. He thought of Ao'nung and Tsireya, two Na'vi who had become such unlikely friends... and yet they could be more? Ronal and Tonowari, who have been decent to him, could potentially be more?
Of course, there's also Kayla, the female avatar who looked unsure as she stood before Spider, staring down at him with fear as if she had said the wrong thing. He couldn't possibly hope that this was her intention, and so he swallowed the dryness in his throat before hesitantly replying,
"So... you're not asking if I'm comfortable about this for... other reasons?"
She frowned, "What other reasons?"
"I don't know..." he shrugged and found himself looking away, sheepish to admit it, "I thought you were asking me all this to make sure I would be okay with getting left alone again when you inevitably go to be with them."
He didn't see the way Kayla's eyes briefly widen in horror before she cursed under her breath, crouching down beside him while bravely placing a hand on his shoulder to gain his attention, "Shit, Spider-- I'm sorry. I can see why that looked bad. No, I'm not leaving you alone just because I intend on seeing someone. I take my responsibilities very seriously, thank you very much."
Ah, yes. Responsibilty. That's who he was to Kayla. It was a good reminder for Spider not to get his hopes up, a reminder that Kayla was a parental figure, but she could never be more than that. He didn't dare glance over at the bookshelf where his mother's picture was displayed, not wanting Kayla to misinterpret anything. 
"... Okay."
Kayla's eyebrows furrow, trying not to appear hopeful, "Okay?"
He nods, "Okay."
Kayla smiled then, more confidently and unaware of Spider's hidden thoughts, but he smiled back, regardless. She squeezed his shoulder once more before pulling away, humming with a small, playful tone in her voice as she mentioned, "You know, eventually we'll have to move in with them, right? Are you comfortable with that? You know that families usually pile together at night."
Spider's face slowly begins to contort with uncertainty, "... You and I aren't used to that."
"Nope. We're not."
Nervously, he smiles, "Shit. Is that a dealbreaker?"
The laughter Kayla let out was cheerful and full of life. It was also contagious as Spider found himself laughing as well, and despite his doubt, there was a small bit of weight that had to been lifted from his shoulders. Despite being unsure of what the future holds for him... at the very least, there was going to be someone to keep him safe. Whether or not Kayla could be his family she mentioned, there was also the uncertainty of whether or not the clan leaders and their children would think the same. Either way, his acceptance clearly made Kayla happy, and he didn't want to ruin that with his insecurities. 
~~~~~~~~~
If there's one thing Jake can confidently say about his sister, it's that if she wants him to know something, she'll tell him. 
It was obvious to everyone that Kayla was not afraid to tell Jake whatever she was thinking. She's not afraid to speak her mind to him, no matter how brutal, and while there are times that Jake secretly appreciates it, lately it's been disheartening due to recent... obvious incidents.
So, when Kayla avoided him for two days, Toruk Makto enjoyed the peace and quiet, but Neytiri gave him a knowing expression that told him he wasn't being very true to himself in those moments. He eventually had to admit to himself that the silence was getting to him and he would've preferred his little sister yelling at him than straight up avoiding his presence. He eventually gave in and sought her out on the third day. 
He finds his sister in her marui with Spider that morning, rolling up their separate nivi and getting prepared for the day ahead. Jake watches them for a moment, still unsure of how to address them if neither was going to admit they were mother and son, before announcing his presence. Kayla, once laid back and content, ready to face the day, now looked tense and wary at the sound of her brother's voice. Jake tried not to let it bother him, keeping his expression neutral as he offered to assist Kayla with any chores she had.
She agreed, with reluctance, and moved to meet him in the doorway. Jake did his best to keep his face impassive, but he struggled when Kayla walked close enough to the point he could catch a whiff of her scent. It was by no means her own, or the one Jake had affiliated as his sister whenever she was near. It smelled familiar, but it wasn't Kayla's and while it was faint, it was definitely new. It bothered him for a moment as both he and Kayla walked out of the marui together,his brain trying to conjure where he had smelled that particular scent before. While Jake wanted to mention it, he wisely doesn't say a word for many reasons. The whole scent debacle was a Na'vi thing and he could understand if Kayla wasn't entirely comfortable about the concept, and she may not understand it fully herself. 
And like before, he knows that if there's something Kayla wants him to know, she'll tell him.
Kayla had asked Jake to help her with a canoe she's been wanting to make for a while now, and so together they conjured up the necessary supplies and started hauling it all back to her pod. She trailed behind Jake, silent for the most part, and the tension in the air was palpable, almost worse than the silent treatment she had been giving her brother for a few days. Jake knew something was right on the tip of her tongue, practically hearing the gears in her head without even needing to see her face as he walked in front of her. It was the same, intense silence he remembered experiencing when she was younger, right before she came out to her brothers. Tommy, ever the nurturing sibling, was worried for Kayla and had gently told her that if there was something she'd like to get off her chest, he and Jake would always hear her out, and no matter what, they would always be there for her.
Jake felt his chest squeeze painfully at the memory, so he was glad to distract himself from it when Kayla's voice suddenly spoke up from behind him,
"Jake."
He continued to walk towards her home as it drew near, ear tilted back in her direction, over his shoulder, "Hm?"
"There's something I got to tell you--" 
She paused, and before Jake could ask her to elaborate, a soft thud from behind him gently rattled the woven pathway beneath his feet, followed by the sound of a large splash. Jake frowned and turned back around, only for his sister to no longer be standing there. In her place, was the basket of supplies she had been carrying, the contents spilled across the walkway and even rolling into the water below, the soft plopping sound of small items crashing into the water filling the air while Kayla was nowhere to be seen.
Something heavy falls in Jake's gut, as his ears point up and dance around in alertness. He reacts fast by quickly setting down his items and sprinting to the edge of the path, looking down into the water.
"Kayla!"
He sees a small shadow, quickly growing smaller as it sinks further into the water. It was the only thing that crossed his mind before diving into the sea.
The loud splash followed by Jake's distressed voice calling out to Makayla grabbed Spider's attention and steps out of the kelku, just in time to see the revered Toruk Makto diving straight into the water, abandoning baskets full of spilled supplies all along the pathway in his panicked rush. Spider's heart plummets in the five seconds Jake was underwater, and when the older man had yet to break the surface, Spider found himself running down the woven path toward the spot Jake had jumped from, even if he didn't believe he could be much help to a large, full-sized Na'vi, fearing the worst.
By the time Spider reached the deserted supplies scattered across the walkway, Jake had finally resurfaced, gasping for air while water spilled into his eyes and ears. The former marine struggled to paddle with just one arm back toward the path walk while trying to keep a fully grown female avatar afloat, her closed eyes doing nothing to help the panic begin to eat away at her brother's chest.
Despite being small, Spider scrambled to help Jake lift Kayla's body out of the water, hooking his arms underneath hers and lifting with all his might with a soft grunt. Jake helped by lifting Kayla's legs out of the water, and once she was lying across the pathway on her back, Jake lifted himself out of the water before frantically crawling over to her, gently shoving Spider out of Kayla's space so he could inspect her for injuries.
Nothing visible appeared to be wrong with her, but Kayla's eyes remained closed and when Jake initially dragged her out of the water, he couldn't help but notice how lifeless her body moved. Or, in a sense, didn't move.
"Hey!" Jake practically yelled in her face, his hand beginning to gently pat her cheek, only for the motion to grow into harsher slaps the longer she refused to open her eyes.
The panic that was beginning to rise up to Jake's throat only added to the stern, angry tone in his voice as he yelled at his sister's face, "Heyheyhey, wake up. Kayla!"
"Kayla?" Spider's voice called out, less afraid of sounding panicked while fear was evident behind his mask when directing his attention to Jake, "What's wrong with her?"
"I don't know..." Jake initially replied before pausing his train of thought, a sinking feeling of familiarity washing over him when he started to analyze Kayla's symptoms and recognize the signs. It had been over a decade... but he'd seen this happen before, and the thought scared him.
"Spider, do you have your flashlight?"
Without asking for an explanation, Spider hands him the flashlight he kept in a small pouch of necessities he had tied around his loincloth.
"There we go..." Jake mutters under his breath almost as if trying to soothe and reassure himself, turning on the flashlight before leaning over Kayla's face. He takes his free hand and forces one of her eyelids to peel back, shining the bright light directly into her eye before moving on to the other one. 
Her pupils don't move or even dilate, confirming Jake's growing fear, "Shit. She's not in there."
"What?" Spider croaked, suddenly hating the way his eyes felt warm.
"She's not in there," Jake automatically explained, "Something or someone interrupted her link." 
Jake tries catching his breath, willing himself to regain a bit of self-control. He didn't want to assume the worst, but at the very least, Kayla wasn't dead, and her avatar didn't appear to be injured. For all he knew, Kayla had simply woken up hundreds of miles away, among their human allies and the Omatikaya. He'll just have to make a call back to High Camp and they can sort out this small situation. Nothing major... 
He kept telling himself that as he bent down and lifted Kayla up into his arms, supporting her back and the crook of her legs while trying to maneuver around Spider, "Hang on-- watch out. Let's get her back to my place." 
Spider dutifully follows, bounding down the woven path just to be able to catch up to Jake's long strides, the boy's eyes never leaving Kayla's avatar, "What do we do?"
"Let me try and contact Norm."
The walk back to the Sully marui felt like forever, with Jake trying to stamp down his growing anxiety the longer it took to get back. When they finally arrived, Jake and Spider brought Kayla inside only to find themselves alone, with no one else home. Jake gently lays Kayla down and immediately beelines for his long-range radio, gripping the device harshly as he speaks into it,
"Dirty Falcon, Dirty Falcon, do you read me? This is Devil Dog, over."
Jake releases the button and waits, the pod filled with static and silence. Spider kneels down beside Kayla's head, staring at Jake's radio with a rising, fluttering feeling in his chest that makes chills rise across his skin. As he and Jake continued to sit in silence, the lack of response on Norm's end was palpable.
Jake could hear his own heart racing in his ears as he brought the radio to his mouth once more, "Norm, it's Jake. Are you there? Norm?"
Silence.
"Norm? Norm?"
~~~~~~~~~
He wasn't sure how many times he had tried calling High Camp as minutes turned into hours. Whether it was six or seven attempts, Toruk Makto had begun to inspect the radio to ensure it was even working, not wanting to entertain the thought that something might be wrong on the other end of the communication. Each time he spoke into the radio and then stopped to wait for a response, he couldn't help the glances he'd send over to Spider. Each time, as the silence lingered between each call, the teenager's face only fell further and it made Jake's chest feel like lead. By the time the suns were at the highest peak in the sky, the village stirred with whispers about Makayla te Suli's collapse. As people gradually learned what had happened, Jake found his home being bombarded with not only his wife and children as they raced back to the pod but other Na'vi as well, much to his surprise. 
Some of his children's friends were also present. Ao'nung and Tsireya were with Lo'ak when they heard about what happened to Kayla and immediately came running back to the marui with him, concern etched on their young faces. Jake watched with confusion as the reef siblings moved like a well-oiled machine. Ao'nung, as if on instinct, knelt down beside Spider, inspecting Kayla's avatar while Tsireya sternly let Lo'ak know that she was going to fetch her parents.
Jake heard this but didn't register the words until the young girl was already heading out the door, and by then it was already too late to stop her. Lo'ak quickly distracted his father from his racing thoughts when he asked what had happened to his aunt. By the time Jake recounted the events, the rest of the Sullys were speeding into the marui and Tsireya had returned with the clan leaders. 
Ronal was like a tidal wave as she bounded into the Sullys' home, a fearsome expression in her eyes that would immediately make any normal man flinch had Jake not been exposed to Grace Augustine's own ferocity, 
"And why have you brought her back here instead of to me?"
"Because she's not injured and this has nothing to do with spirituality," Jake found himself saying robotically, instinctively falling into the role of Toruk Makto to help him not acknowledge the hidden anxiety deep in his gut, "Makayla's human form must have woken up and that's why she collapsed here. She's... she's no longer possessing this body."
Tonowari hovers over his mate like a protective shadow as she bends down over Kayla's avatar, the olo'eyktan's eyes hardened with determination to find a solution as he addresses Jake, "Is that normal?"
Jake's ears pin back, eyes unfocused for a moment, "No, it's not. This only happens if someone is forced out of their Na'vi body. I've seen it before."
Ronal grabs Kayla's chin to tilt the avatar's head to look up at her, "Makayla? Makayla, can you hear me?"
The formality had puzzled Jake for a moment, staring oddly at the tsahik as she continued to carefully inspect his sister's avatar. Peering over at his wife, he noticed Neytiri looking back at him, waiting patiently with her tail gently swaying behind her, the way she normally looked when she expected him to figure something out. Whatever it was, it would have to wait as Jake shook his head and turned back toward the radio, making contact his first priority. 
"Dirty Falcon, Dirty Falcon, do you read me? This is Devil Dog, over." Jake pressed into the radio before letting go of the button, not as enthusiastic for a reply.
"What is happening?" Tonowari questioned.
"I've been trying to reach our human allies with the Omatikaya all afternoon, but so far no one's responding."
"And I take it that is not normal either?"
A shadow falls over Jake's eyes as he glares into the piece of technology in front of him, "No."
"J-- Jake! We have a situation."
A familiar voice suddenly buzzes through the device before being abruptly cut off. The whole room stills as if time had stopped. Jake hadn't noticed he was holding his breath as he stared down at the radio until his lungs burned and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. With a start, Jake greedily sucks in air as he quickly moves to grab the radio,
"Norm, what's going on?" He harshly demands, "What happened?"
"Lab compromised-- can't--"
The connection cuts off again but Jake doesn't give up, desperate for an answer, "Norm! Come on... Norm, do you copy? Where's Kayla?" 
"She... She's gone!"
The air completely sucks out of his lungs, his brain scrambling for a reasonable explanation. He didn't have to look around to know that everyone else would be panicked and concerned as well. Ronal had stood up straight once more, standing near Kayla's feet as her expression reared back with affliction, her eyes darting to Tonowari as they both shared a look of genuine fright. Spider noticed their exchange out of the corner of his eye before looking back down at the body in front of him, his chest feeling tight as the news sunk in, his small hand leaning near Kayla's as if afraid that touching her hand would somehow evaporate her avatar's form. The lightest brush of skin against his elbow let him know that Ao'nung was still right beside him.
Jake could feel the rushing of his heartbeat pulsing loudly in his ears as he absorbed the information. All other rational thoughts jump out the window as he suddenly snaps and growled into the communication device, "What do you mean 'gone?' Norm, what the fuck happened?"
Neytiri didn't even have the heart to chastise her husband for such language in front of the children, her own mind spiraling at all of the possibilities that might have befallen her people, let alone Kayla. Tuk's hand instinctively reaches up to grab her mother's when she feels the older woman's distress, the air stale with tension as all eyes are fixed on the radio. 
"I had to force an emergency shutdown on Kayla's link in progress," Norm finally manages to explain without the connection cutting him off, "High Camp had to evacuate because we thought our location might've been compromised. We all scattered and ran to hide and avoid capture, but when we made it to the rendevous she didn't show up-- And... she's not here, Jake. We went back to camp when the coast was clear and Kayla is the only one not accounted for."
That could mean anything, but Jake wasn't ready to make any conclusions until he got the full story, "Who compromised High Camp?"
"Quaritch."
The room felt silent once more, dread swimming in Jake's gut as he closed his eyes and heaved a large, exhausted sigh. One of his ears flicked in the direction he knew Kiri was kneeling down to wrap her arms protectively around Spider without even having to look. 
"He had been sighted scouting the Hallelujah Mountains for days prior to this. We thought he might've finally found us so we dispersed."
Jake's head spun with emotions, trying not to let anger get the better of him as he clutched the radio, "Why didn't you call in these sightings to me? I would've come back."
"Because we thought he was after YOU, Jake. If you had come running back, he would've been there, waiting for you."
He took a deep breath, "Do we know for sure Quaritch has Kayla?" 
"We're still looking, but... look-- Kayla grabbed a radio before we split up and scattered. There was a tracker, and when we got back, Max tried to access it, but the signal was lost nearly halfway to our rendevous point. If Quaritch snatched her, he could be anywhere by now."
"... So why Kayla? Did he take her to get to me?"
"That's what I thought originally. But Jake-- we don't think he's reporting back to Ardmore anymore."
Norm's words clearly surprise Jake, eyes briefly widening before they return to their normal shape. Unaware of Jake's reaction, Norm's voice continues to come in through the radio, "We've been monitoring RDA radio chatter and there were never any indicators that he never called in a strike against the camp. Ardmore didn't send an army, it was just him. I think he acted alone on this, against Ardmore's orders. Or maybe she doesn't know about it. All I know is he's after something or someone, whether it's you or something else, he knows that Kayla has what he wants."
Jake feels a weight of revelation sink in his stomach, slowly peering over his shoulder, only to find that Spider was already looking back at him. As expected, Kiri was kneeling behind her best friend and her long blue arms encompassed the human teen's shoulders, tightening further when her father's gaze landed on them. Spider doesn't move or even breathe for that matter, the kid's eyes wide with what could only be described as fear. 
"I think I know what he's after," Jake muttered back into the radio, his eyes never leaving Spider's, "Let me get back to you with a plan, Norm."
He cuts contact on the radio and rushes to stand up. Kiri, assuming the worst after seeing the look in his eye when he gazed at Spider, speaks up before her father can even say a word, "Dad, you can't leave her! Not like when you left Spider!"
Jake winced, an apologetic expression directed at the boy in question before he straightened his posture, looking around at the room of Na'vi all staring at him expectedly. The weight of Toruk Makto was heavy on his shoulders once more... only this time it felt worse. The fear of failure was worse.
Quaritch likely has Kayla, and the very thought of the Recom holding his sister hostage brought that same, deep-rooted fear he had festered when Quaritch had taken his daughters. The haunted image of Quaritch's knife against Kayla's throat when they were fighting on the ship didn't help that fear. Looking over and meeting Neytiri's eyes, Jake saw that same haunted expression on her face, the look of someone who had lost so many of her loved ones to the colonel. Quaritch was responsible for her father's death, and the lives that were lost when Hometree fell. Quaritch was responsible for Tsu'tey, for Grace, for Trudy... Neteyam... Hell, he might have been the one held responsible for the death of Neytiri's sister, Sylwanin.  
Turning back and taking one look at Spider's pleading eyes, Jake was desperate to ensure that Kayla wouldn't be added to Quaritch's growing list. 
Jake's expression hardened, hiding away his thoughts while addressing Kiri, "I won't, baby girl. Not this time." 
~~~~~~~~~
A/n: In between chapters, I asked for a couple of commissions from the following:
I'd like to thank @sullyfortress for this beautiful masterpiece of Kayla!
And @rocklobster0 for making this cute chibi art of Kayla/Tonowari/Ronal! You guys are amazing individuals and are so gifted😍Thank you so much!
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witchywithwhiskey · 28 days
Text
the alpha next door
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pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader
summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.
warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov
word count: 8.9k
a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!
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When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were. 
The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved. 
But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…
Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him. 
The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.
When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside. 
On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.
Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart. 
As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.
That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.
That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.
But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.
That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.
He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door. 
Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume. 
So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent. 
Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.
Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit. 
But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life. 
Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help. 
But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.
“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.
One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.
Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up. 
That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.
Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you. 
Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup. 
He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.
It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come. 
He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.
A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged. 
Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.
Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing. 
The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him. 
But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.
Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.
Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.
Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat. 
His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.
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When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.
You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.
A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve. 
The alpha next door was just so…sweet. 
It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor. 
And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.
Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?
It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet. 
It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together. 
You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard. 
Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous. 
Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun. 
You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct  sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.
It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…
Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.
Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body. 
Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.
The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically. 
You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.
The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…
You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.
Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve. 
“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.
You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due. 
You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.
“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you. 
The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it. 
“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock. 
You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.
It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!” 
So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more. 
It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun. 
Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway. 
Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.
Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve. 
“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength. 
Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together. 
In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.
“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes. 
Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.
“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.
Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.
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Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.
He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands. 
Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges. 
Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.
Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.
You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.
At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…
God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you. 
Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.
That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his. 
You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy. 
It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped. 
“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you. 
As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.
By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound. 
But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.
“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole. 
The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body. 
Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.
“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.
He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.
With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.
“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy. 
Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.
“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?” 
As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot. 
Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.
“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach. 
“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock. 
Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.
“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink. 
“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in. 
Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.
“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?” 
Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.
“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.” 
Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot. 
You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.
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You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it. 
Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door. 
The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible. 
Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment. 
Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.
“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words. 
You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.
“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed. 
“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”
You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt. 
“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!” 
“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.” 
“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast. 
Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.
As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.
For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver. 
Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet. 
But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.
You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips. 
“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer. 
Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.
“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”
Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot. 
It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.
“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.
When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr. 
“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him. 
“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness. 
You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him. 
“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.
The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”
“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.
Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.” 
You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.” 
Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”
You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate. 
But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.
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osachiyo · 7 months
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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 by anonymous user ꒱. . . hello ! I really like your works, could I please request an insecure!reader with chuuya? and him fucking some sense into her? don't feel pressured to do this btw and feel free to ignore :D
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 note ꒱. . . here u go, nonnie ! I really liked this idea and sorry for taking so long on this request 😭 anyway, hope you enjoy ~~
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 c/w ꒱. . . (18+) n/sfw content, mentions of insecurities, body worshipper chuuya, praise, lowercase intended, hints of dumbfication, overstimulation, fingering, mirror sex, cunnilingus, chuuya eats it from the back !! 🗣️🗣️& more + not proofread
summary. . . you've been feeling insecure about your body and started to wonder if you were really good enough for someone like chuuya? but no worries, your lover doesn't mind reminding you how much he loves your body and more importantly, you.
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you sighed, staring at your reflection in the fancy full-body mirror in front of you; god, you looked horrendous. you didn't know how chuuya, one of, if not the most beautiful man you've ever met, love someone like.. you.
what you also didn't know, though, was that your beloved chuuya had been standing in the doorway the entire time, slender figure leaning against the doorframe as a dull pain throbbed in his heart while he watched, heard you pick apart your body like it was the ugliest thing you had ever seen. he watched as you ran your fingers up and down the parts you hated the most, a frown tugging at your lips as you muttered something about "not being pretty enough". he didn't understand why you'd say such things about your body− all of those beautiful parts of yours that he cherished wholeheartedly.
you whipped your head around hearing the sound of the once slightly ajar bedroom door shut, your boyfriend entering the room. "hey doll, what're you up to?" chuuya's voice was heavy, laced with something you couldn't exactly put a finger on.
"hey, chuu," you smiled, though the action didn't meet your eyes. and chuuya could tell.
his eyes narrowed, gloved hands found their way around your waist, tugging you closer to him− your back flush against his chest. when did he walk all the way across the room?
"y'know, I heard everything right?" he muttered into your neck, strong arms tightening around your figure as you gulped nervously. "chuuya I−" "you're fuckin' beautiful. so don't say hurtful shit about yourself 'cause it for sure ain't true," he cut you off, now pressing soft kisses on the back of your neck to your shoulders, gloved hands reaching up your shirt to knead and gently caress your soft skin.
a whimper caught in your throat as chuuya's hands found your breasts− pushing your bra up to grope them under your shirt. "i love all parts of your body. fuck, you're so pretty. i'll fuckin' prove it to you if i have to."
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"you see that, baby? see the way this pussy sucks my fingers in?" chuuya mused, now bare fingers plunging in and out of your sopping cunt as he had you spread in front of the giant mirror. "mm-! fuck, chuu−!" you were cut off by your own moans, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, making the little strands of your baby hair stick to your skin. "shh, baby. just focus on the way i finger fuck this pretty cunt, yeah?" your lover's voice was muffled by the soft kisses he was busy pressing all over your nape and shoulders, moving your hair out of the way to make it easier.
you could see everything in the mirror, from the way chuuya's slim fingers disappeared inside of your pussy to how much of a mess you've already become− glossy lips parted as loud moans and whines escape from your throat, the way your tits bounce and jiggle with each thrust of his digits. and hell, was it embarrassing. you jolted up when the tips of his appendages rubbed against that one spongey spot inside of your gooey walls− your jaw slacking as your eyes shut. only to receive a gentle but firm slap on your face from chuuya, "nuh-uh, baby. you're gonna watch how I please this beautiful body of yours," he growled lowly in your ear, fingers speeding up their pace as you twitch and whine in response. your vision was blurry− but you could still make out the way your face contorts to one of pure bliss in your reflection.
"yeaah− cum on these fingers, sweetheart," the ginger groaned as you soaked his fingers− your slick running down his wrist and staining the bed sheets underneath, soft curses and his name spewing out of your mouth as his fingers slowed down, aiding you to ride out your orgasm.
you gasped when he abruptly pulled them out of your still sensitive cunt− only to pop them in his mouth as he moaned from the taste of your juices melting on his tongue. "fuck, doll− I gotta taste you, need'a make you cum on my tongue−" he pushed you on your hands and knees before even finishing his sentence− a large hand pressing your back to a perfect arch, face down ass up.
"such a nice fuckin' ass," he groaned, fingers digging into the soft fat and spreading them as you whimper, pitifully clawing at the bed sheets. he playfully bit one of your globes, earning a whine in return which made him chuckle. chuuya's greedy hands ran down from your ass to your thighs, only to go back up to knead at your ass, "and these soft thighs− god, I could kiss 'em for hours."
and as if to prove himself, he started littering kisses all over your inner thighs, hands still kneading your ass before giving it a firm spank, making you jump. "hah, and of course−" he smirked before making his way to your pussy, "this pretty fuckin' pussy− prettiest one I've ever seen," he growled before diving in between your legs− hungry lips wrapping around your clit as you gasp out from the feeling.
"fu−ck! chuuya−!" you babbled, pussy still sensitive from your orgasm from earlier, his nose bumping against your slit as he runs his tongue in a zigzag motion across your clit. his fingers were spreading your ass apart for him, to get easy access to your sweet pussy that he wanted to devour so bad.
shamelessly nasty slurping noises came from between your parted thighs. your slick was already dripping down chuuya's chin as you tried your best to keep your gaze on the mirror, watching yourself getting eaten out from the back. fuck, your hair was a mess− your bare figure covered in bites and bruises that your boyfriend gave you, claiming it was his way of showing you were his. your makeup had been completely ruined; mascara running down your cheek in inky streaks, lipstick smudged− you looked utterly debauched, chuuya's favorite look on you.
a gurgled moan came out of your mouth when two fingers pushed inside of your sloppy pussy, the mafia executive's tongue now writing his name on your clit. a deep groan rumbled in his chest when you tried to run away from the feeling of his tongue and fingers on you− pulling you back before harshly cracking a palm down on your left globe, before curling his fingers further into you. tears were falling freely from your eyes at this point, mouth dropped to an 'o' as you chanted his name like a prayer− "chuu− please, fuck! s'too much−!" you cried out, if it weren't for chuuya's death grip on you, you'd already have fallen face first into the matress.
"you can− fuuck− take it, sweet girl," chuuya moaned into your pussy, the vibrations of the sound making your toes curl and apparently that was the last straw for you− "fuckfuck! 'm cummin'− cummingg−!!" your eyes rolled back into your skull as you squirted all over chuuya's face, his own hips rutting into the mattress as his eyes widen− he wasn't expecting you to do that.
chuuya gave your messy cunt a few more licks before kissing your clit, then pulling away. you looked back to see his face completely drenched− him licking his lips as he gave you a lopsided grin. "holy shit, baby. that was..." he muttered, still dazed as he ran his clean hand through his sweaty orange locks. you were still panting, chest heaving as you tried came down from the euphoric high before looking away in embarrassment, fingers fiddling with the sheets− then suddenly, you got slammed back against the bed. face down, ass up, again.
you heard a metal clink− likely his belt. the sound of expensive leather hitting the floor snapped you back into reality, he must've tossed the belt somewhere. it wasn't long before your thoughts got quickly cut off, chuuya's heavy tip slapping against your clit a few times as you whined, begging him to give you a rest but no− he wasn't gonna stop until he was sure he fucked all those negative thoughts out of your mind− wasn't gonna stop 'till all thoughts but his left that pretty little head of yours. you just had to sit still and take it, like the good girl you were.
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©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated ♡
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monzabee · 3 months
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pon de replay - cl16 (+18)
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where Charles decide to prove to everyone that it is him that you belong to, and only him.
Pairing: charles leclerc x reader 
Word Count: 4.8k
Warnings: smuttt, nothing but pure filth, one might even say it is pwp, unprotected sex (cover your willy don’t be silly), oral (f receiving), kinda exhibitionism?, public sex, jealous charles, possessive charles, carlos being a little shit because he’s bored, poor lando, not even sure if i fulfilled the request or not, minors dni!! 
Request: “HELLOOOO! i have an idea and you don’t have to write it but it’s been rattling around in my brain and im never gonna write it (i constantly have way too many ideas to write them fr) myself so i figured i’d send it to you cause you’ve kinda restored my F1 phase with your work. basically, reader being very goofy, funny, and maybe a little bit too loud at times. just like a very silly and bubbly personality and she hangs out with some of the f1 boys (maybe because she’s famous in her own right like a dancer or something) so naturally EVERYONE ships her with lando. like hardcore, almost as bad as one direction fans ships (iykyk), and it sorta makes sense cause when they’re together it’s pure and utter chaos and they both express themselves with physical touch B U T ! she’s actually with charles. to her it makes total sense to be with charles instead of lando cause while lando is definitely attractive he’s too much like her and it’d be like dating herself whereas charles brings out a new calm side to her and she can bring out a goofier side to him. opposites attract type shit😭. maybe a little angst cause charles hates seeing all the edits and also feels a little insecure cause lando and reader DO make sense together in his mind so why’d you pick him instead? then like soft fluff/smut reassurance that charles is literally the man of her dreams, a literal fucking prince, and the best person she’s ever been with. ANYWAYS, im rambling! again, you don’t have to write this if you don’t connect with it or don’t have time i just needed an outlet SOMEWHERE for all the F1 brain rot.”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i first of all want to start by saying that i’m very sorry that this isn’t exactly like the request, like at all, but it took me a criminal amount of time to actually get this finished so we’re not going to focus on that. okay? okay, great!! in all and all it was actually quite fun to work on this at the beginning, it was just kinda hard for some reason to work on the actual smut part, but i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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Charles wouldn’t call himself a possessive person, not a chance. He might be ambitious, and competitive, but possessive? That, he is not. He’s never been the type of get jealous of his partner’s friends, whether male or female, because he likes to think that he is mature enough to understand that people have friends. It’s that simple. And he is most definitely not the type of person to comment on what you wear when you’re going out, he is just not that guy. He’s fairly certain that his mother would materialise out of thin air and give him a good beating if he were to do that. So when you asked him about the dress you have on earlier before you left his apartment, the one that clings to your body so tightly that he can practically make out the outline of your tits from across the room? He just smiled and told you to have fun tonight – because he’s there to make sure you’re not put off by anyone staring at you in it.
So yeah. He’s not usually the type to let the jealousy take over his ability to think things out rationally, but when his girlfriend is dancing her heart away in the middle of the dance floor while every red-blooded men watch her with the same look in their eyes? Yeah, it’s not easy to keep his emotions in check at the moment given the circumstances. And it’s not that he even intends to pout like a petulant child at the bar, making sure to keep an eye on you, it’s just that he is an expressive person and his face reflects what he’s feeling that well. Totally because of that. It’s scary how utterly focused he is on you, watching your every move to make sure no one is bothering you, though you don’t seem to be in need of his help as he watches you dance with one of the girls you met when you first arrived to the club – and with Lando, though he tries not to focus on that part too much.
It's fine, though, he tries to make himself believe, it’s fine as long as you’re having fun. Though that doesn’t necessarily stop him from throwing daggers into Lando’s direction as covertly as he can. The way he has a friendly arm around you is driving him crazy, and he is not above stomping over there to pull you under his arm, drag you to the nearest bathroom and– Well, maybe he shouldn’t get too far ahead of himself just yet.
“They look good together, no?” He hears someone ask him from the side. He realises it is his teammate when he turns to give the person a glare.
“Who?” He asks, deciding to play dumb, but he can’t help himself as he makes a face while focusing his gaze back on you.
“You know who I’m talking about, cabrón!” Carlos exclaims, laughing as he pats him on the back and points to the two of you with a tilt of his head, “I’m glad he’s finally doing something about it rather than sulking around like a geriatric toddler.”
If he would have turned around any faster, Charles is sure his neck would actually, possibly, break. “What?” he spits out as he turns around, “Do you mean her and Lando?”
Carlos gives his teammate a confused look, “Yes,” he drawls out, “you didn’t know he had a crush on her? I thought the entire paddock knew!” Charles feels a surge of disbelief and a tinge of anger bubbling within him.
He wouldn't call it possessiveness, more like a primal instinct to protect what's his. But this revelation catches him off guard, shattering his carefully constructed facade of nonchalance. With doing his best to keep calm under the situation, he asks, “Are you sure you’re not making things up? I feel like you’re misreading the situation here.”
That receives another confused look from his teammate, and though Charles is quite the perceptive person, he misses Carlos starting to put the pieces together – thanks to his overreaction. “I guess so,” Carlos mumbles, loud enough for Charles to hear him in the loud club, “he’s always talking about her, though. The way she smiles, her hair, her dresses; did you know he even went to see one of her performances in Vegas?” Carlos feels bad, really, but there is also something so fulfilling in confirming his theories as he watches his teammate’s eyes bulge out at the mention of one of your dance shows in Vegas. Because Charles knows what those entail.
“I-in Vegas?” He stutters out, eyes moving to focus on your dancing figure again. And at that moment, he absolutely hates Lando. He hates him for having his arms around you, he hates him for dancing with you to the beat in a rhythm he never seems to be able to keep up with, he hates him for the way everybody seems to think the two of you seem to make a handsome couple, and he absolutely hates him for the way he makes you smile.
Charles Leclerc is not a possessive guy – until it comes to you, that is.
“Charles?” He hears Carlos call out his name, but he’s out of his seat long before he can hear the end of his sentence. He doesn’t mean to stomp across the dance floor to get to you. He really doesn’t. He also doesn’t mean to grab you by your arm and put a pause on your fun. And the smile you give him and the way you wrap your arms around his neck while you call him ‘Charlie’? Makes his heart stutter in a way that makes him forget why he ever came over in this first place. Because this should be normal – you, having male friends and spending time with them should not make him insecure. He should be fine with you and Lando spending time together because you both love the hustle and bustle of a club. But at that moment, he doesn’t care about what should be normal, no. He cares about the fact that someone other than him has managed to make you smile, and that he needs to remind you that he’s the only one who should be on the receiving end of all your smiles.
So when he drags you away from the dancefloor (and Lando, for that matter), he doesn’t listen to your objections. He doesn’t care about the way Carlos is watching from his place from the bar, putting all the pieces together as he shares a look with Lando. And he most definitely doesn’t care about the fact that he’s about to fuck you in the club’s bathroom. Well, maybe he does care about that last part. “Charlie,” you whine, your voice clearly scratched from shouting along the lyrics of the songs playing throughout the night, and he doesn’t miss the way you slur his name ever so slightly – which tells him that you had at least two drinks. Cosmopolitans, if he had to guess. “Pleaaase,” you drag out the word, pulling on his shirt to get his attention, “they are playing my song!”
His first mistake is to look at you, because the way your lips form a pout and the way you’re giving him puppy dog eyes is usually strong enough for him to give in. Though this is no usual situation. So instead of moving the two of you back to the dancefloor, he grabs you by your cheeks and presses his lips against you. In the middle of the club, where everybody can see him doing it. The way his lips move against yours is aggressive, and you’re definitely out of breath when he does move away. Cosmopolitans, he realises after tasting you. You've had cosmopolitans. Then, he just gives you a look, threads his fingers through yours and raises an eyebrow. Then he asks, “Are you going to be a good girl and come with me now, or should I do this the hard way and just carry you on my shoulder?”
If this was any other situation, you would totally say something bratty back. Hell, you might have actually said something rude if it meant him being rough with you, maybe spanking you a few times just enough times for you to learn your lesson. But you understand that this is no ordinary situation from his voice and the expression on his face. Charles is like that, you suppose. He’s an open book – meaning that it is very easy to understand what kind of a mood he’s in just by looking at his face, or listening to the undertone of his voice. And right now? Right now you know he’s pissed. You don’t necessarily know what you did, nor do you care. Mainly because all you want to do is make him feel better simply because of the reason that he is one of those people who’s just meant to smile at all times, not frown.
And so you nod gingerly, squeaking out a thimble, “Yes.” You finally meet his eyes as you wrap yourself around his arm, pushing yourself closer to him in the crowded club. “I’ll be good.”
This thumb does that thing where he caresses your knuckle, and he starts moving you through the crowd again. This time, however, you try to stick to him by matching the speed of his steps rather than trying to stay back. You told him you’d be good, you intend to keep your promise. He’s quiet all the way to the bathroom, and he’s quiet when he motions you to get inside, and he’s quiet when he closes to door and promptly locks it behind your back. You think for a moment you’re just there for a chat, maybe about that something you might’ve done, but Charles takes you by surprise as he grabs your waist and pushes you against the door, causing your eyes to widen with realisation of what you’re about to do in that bathroom.
“Charles, what’s wrong?” You try to ask, but he shuts you up with another kiss. And if you thought the previous kiss was aggressive, this one absolutely consumes you. He doesn’t even give you a fighting chance as his tongue quickly dominates yours, and he is relentless as he nips at your lower lip. You can’t help the mortifying moan that leaves your lips, and you push him away to inhale deeply. “What has gotten into you?” You ask, eyes wide due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins, “What happened?”
“You, happened.” He growls. And by that, you mean that he actually growls. His voice is a few octaves deeper than his usual voice, and you can see that he’s snappy. There is this dark look in his eyes that would otherwise scare you if you didn’t know him, but you do. Because he’s your Charles.
And you know this because the quickly leans into your touch when you bring one of your hands up to cup his cheek, giving him a confused look. “Did I do something?” You ask, voice soft amidst the humid bathroom. “Oh my god, is it my dress? Is it too short?” Your eyebrows draw closer as you start properly spiralling. “I knew I should’ve worn the shorts, why didn’t you say something?”
Your mini monologue about your party attire must have struck a chord because Charles suddenly exhales heavily, his forehead resting against yours as he closes his eyes. “No, non, it's not about the fucking dress,” he lashes out, his voice strained, and lace with something else that you can’t quite catch. “I don’t care what you wear, though I do appreciate the easy access.”
“Easy access?” You repeat, testing out the words as you come to a realisation. “What?” You exclaim, quickly taking your hand away from his face to lightly slap at his chest. “No! We are definitely not doing that here, are you out of your mind? You pulled me away because you can’t keep it in your pants until we’re home?”
“And why not?” He asks, and this time, you can see the unbridled rage behind his look. “Would you rather go back to Lando out there? You looked quite happy in his arms after all.”
And the realisation dawns on you right then and there. That this isn’t about your choice of dress for the evening, no. It is about Lando. Though you don’t get that part, since he’s both of your friend, so why is Charles being like this? And you would ask him, of course. But the look he gives you indicates that he doesn’t want to be tested in that exact moment.
So instead, you attempt to calm him down, by dragging your hand gently down his chest and wrapping your arms around his middle. He is like that, your Charles, sometimes he just wants to be held to see reason. “Charlie,” you call out, voice soft as you give him a pleading look, “why don’t you tell me what this is about, hm?”
You think he’s going to finally give in for a moment, but then he just gives you a blank stare. “I don’t want to talk,” he grunts, pulling you flush against him by the hands he has on your waist. His lips are on your neck faster than you can say anything, working his way towards your collarbones. The faint whimpers that come out of your lips bring a small smile to his lips knowing that he’s the one causing them, not Lando or any other guy.
“Charles,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as his lips trail along your skin. Despite the confusion and frustration swirling within you, you can't deny the way his touch ignites a fire deep within you, consuming your thoughts and leaving you breathless with desire. But as much as you crave his touch, you know that there are unresolved issues between you, issues that need to be addressed before you can fully give yourself to him in this moment. “Charlie,” you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper as you gently push against his chest, urging him to stop. “Stop, we need to talk about this.”
“Talk about what?” He asks, all breathy and with a wild look in his eyes. You can see that he’s trying to hold himself back, but at the same time his hands keep moving on your body in a way that makes you want to let him lose control and perhaps even join him. He successfully ignores your attempts at pushing him away, sliding his hands down on your body to grab the hem of your dress, clenching the material in his hand while dragging it upwards on your thighs until he reaches the soft skin of your stomach. “I have a thing in mind which might help me feel better.” Unable to take your eyes off of him, you take a stuttered breath as you watch him slowly get down on his knees, his lips pressing kisses starting form your sternum continuing down your body over your dress until you feel his lips on the exposed skin of your stomach. His kisses stop once he’s met with the top lining of your underwear, looking at you with a mischevious glint in his eyes as he nips at the nimble lace adorning the top. You call out his name in a weak whimper – though it is not clear to you, nor him, whether you’re asking him to stop or go on. Charles decides to go with the latter. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
You don’t really need his reminder, you realise, but it is a welcome one. Your cheeks blush even further when you feel his gaze on you as he lowers his face towards your core, leaving a sweet kiss onto your clit through the fabric of your thong. Suddenly, you want nothing more than to just rip to whole thing apart so there is nothing separating you from him, but you know the game, and you especially know that the ending is sweeter than what you could ever imagine at that moment. And so you wait – you wait until he eventually makes his move and gives your slit a generous lick through the fabric. Watching you is equal parts thrilling and painful, mainly because he wants to drag out his teasing as long as possible just to see you falling apart for him. It’s second nature to you, the way your hand threads through his hair to move him the way you want to, but it is of course not an option because it’s Charles who is in charge.
He makes this known by the way he pulls away, ignoring the way your hands scramble to guide him back to where you want him to be. He nips at the skin of your thigh in a warning manner, pulling a whine from your lips as he fixes you with a look, “You’re not in control tonight, mon bijou, I’ll stop if you try to take over. You got that?” It’s sobering to see him take control in such a way, you sweet little Charles. Usually, he has no problem just laying back and letting you take all the control, or even just making you believe you do. But now? With the way he’s looking at you with such hunger? You know you’d be soaking through your underwear if you weren’t so wet for him already. All you can do is offer him a meek nod, with your lips hanging open in shock, but he is not satisfied with your answer. No, he needs to hear you say the words. So, being the initiative person that he his, he tips at your skin again, this time earning himself a whimper along a grumble about how he’s being unreasonable. He isn’t, but that’s a topic to discuss another time, he decides. “I said, you got that?”
“Yes! Fine, yes!” You whine, grabbing your dress even tighter with your fist that isn’t buried in his hair, “Please just make me come.”
“See?” He asks, flashing you a sweet smile as he lowers his face back onto where you need him the most, “It wasn’t that hard now, is it?” The grumble about how he’s about to be the hard one, makes him chuckle to himself, the rumbling from it making you moan his name as he finally gives you what you want. His tongue works fast as he laps on the wetness through your underwear, soaking the material even more without a care in the world. If you weren’t wet before, you’re sure you’re definitely wet as he drags his tongue through your slit and back onto your clit to suck it through the fabric, causing you to let out a string of moans, each getting considerably louder as he works on your cunt.
The breath is knocked out of your lungs as the moments pass, as you become closer and closer to your impending release. You don’t even notice the fact that you’ve started to move your hips to match the rythym of his tongue, seeking something more to make you tip over the edge. You’re also very aware of the fact that Charles is letting you what you want to do, and though you’re scared out of you midn that he’ll stop like he threatened to do before, the little nod he gives you when you give him a pleading look assures you that he also wants you to come undone on his face.
Or so you’ve thought.
Because he knows your body so well that jus as you’re about to come he pulls back, leaving you high and dry, and even has the nerve to chuckle when he hears his name coming out of your mouth in a high pitched whine. You’re so lost in the moment that you almost miss the way he gently grabs your hands and removes them from his hair, pinning them above you and pushing you against the wall. “Why?” You whine, lips pushed out in a pout as your voice gets gradually whinier, “I was so close, Charles.”
“Oh, baby,” he cooes, “I know you were, I could feel it too.” He starts peppering your feverish skin with kisses, as if to say sorry for leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, and you find yourself arching your neck to expose more of your skin to his skillfull lips. You should stop him, some part of you screams to you in your head, because with the way he’s disguising the fact that he’s marking you with hickeys, but you don’t care at that moment. Your every breath and moan seem to motivate him to work faster, and harder, and when he eventually pulls back to leave a bruising kiss on your lips. A smirk finds its way onto his lips as he gives you an eyeing down, taking in how breathless you look. “Don’t worry, mon bijou, I’ll fuck you now, okay?”
You don’t even realise the nod you give him, too lost in his eyes to put words together to form a proper sentence. He’s gentle with you as he lets go of your hands and positions you the way he wants. With one of your legs wrapped around his hip he has better access to your soaked underwear, his fingers working quickly to pulling it aside. You don’t know when he managed to get himself free from his pants and underwear, but that doesn’t stop you from letting out a loud moan when you feel the tip of his cock circling your clit. “Please, please, please,” your voice cracks as you frantically beg him to do something more. You’d love nothing more than to scold him for the way he shushes you condescendingly, but any complaint you had evaporates when you feel him nudge your entrance. “Please,” you breathe out again, giving him pleading looks as you try to pull him closer somehow, “You promised me you’d fuck me.”
That manages to pull out a beathy chuckle for him, and as if he’s trying to console you, you feel his fingers gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Why don’t you do it yourself, hm?” A grin widens on his lips when you give him a look of confusion, and he leads one of your hands between your bodies for you to wrap it around his cock. “You want me inside you, right?” He rewards your tentative nod with a series of kisses down the column of your throat, “Come on then,” he mumbles into your skin, “put it in, pretty girl.” Exhaling a shaky breath, you keep your eyes on him as you guide him through your entrance. A gasp is torn from your lips when you feel his tip entering you, the initial stretch being more overwhelming because of the fact that you’re standing up. But Charles is quick to soothe you with his kisses down your neck, letting you control the rhythym and how further he can move inside you at first. With your hand making its way down to his hip, pressing him close to you, he quickly gets the message that you’re ready for him. “You’re ready?” He double-checks, raising his head to fix his eyes to yours.
“I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now–” Your words are interrupted when you feel him move his hips back, just enough to have his tip inside you, and then he snaps his hips forward to thrust back in, making your breath hitch at the back of your throat. It doesn’t take very long for you to become a moaning mess, in fact, you’re more than ready to fall apart for him then and there, but you know he won’t let you until he gets his point across.   
“Look at you, mon bijou,” Charles darkly chuckles, hips matching the rhythym of the song playing outside at the dance floor, “what would people think if they saw you being such a mess for me in a club’s bathroom?” And the whine you let out in response to his question nothing if pathethic, but you can’t find it in you to care because of how good he’s making you feel. “Yes?” He prompts you, mocking the whiny ‘Yes’, that leaves your mouth before you start begging him to let you come. But he doesn’t, because he knows you can hold it until he’s ready for you too, and he tells you just that.
“So good, Charlie, so good,” you can’t help the broken moans you let out as he fucks you to the brink of an orgasm. But that is not enough for him, no. He needs everyone to know the two of you are together now, needs to get out all of his pent up frustrations out.
So when the opportunity presents itself with Lando knocking on the door asking if you are okay? A knowing smirk find its way onto his lips, and you try to silently plead with him with your eyes. “You want to cum?” He whispers in your ear, his thrusts becoming faster. “Say my name if you want to come, baby.”
“Please–” You gasp, hands grabbing the shirt he’s wearing. It’s no avail even if you try to keep your voice down. Because when Charles finds a way to slither his hand down between your legs and starts rubbing your clit in firm circles? You know there is no way you can stay quiet through your orgasm. “Why?” You manage to get out, “God, Charles please.”
“Tell me who’s making you feel so good, pretty girl.” He encourages you, his rhythym now almost brutal as he tries his best to make you come for him. “Come on, tell me who you belong to.” He chuckles darkly when he sees you shaking your head. “It’s not Lando, it’s me. You hear that?” Uh-huh, is the only answer he receives in return, but he is of course not satisfied with it. So, he gently pinches the inside of your thigh. “Tell me who’s going to make you come, or I’ll stop.”
“N-no!” You exclaim, too overwhelmed to see that his threat is an empty one, because he would never actually do something like that to you. “Please, please don’t stop.”
“Come on,” he cooes, the sweet words he whispers into your skin making you more and more malleable to his request. “Say my name baby, let me hear you.”
“Charles,” your loud moan cuts the heavy air in the bathroom. Cheeks flushed, breath unorganised and with that wild look in your eyes? There’s nothing Charles wouldn’t do for you. With every move of his hips, you moan his name louder, eventually tipping over the edge as he feels you squeezing his cock so tight that he almost loses himself then and there.
That’s not to say he doesn’t, of course. Because just as you’re about done with your orgasm, you feel him come inside you, chanting your name alongside mine, mine mine. It takes a long time for the both of you to get back to your senses, but he’s extremely gentle with you as he helps you down and fixes your underwear. You find yourself snuggling up to him when he eventually takes you into his arms after fixing his own clothing, nuzzling your nose to his neck. “You know, I think I like the jealous side of you.” You mumble, leaving a few kisses across his jaw.
“Yeah?” He asks, a breathy chuckle leaving him as he cradles your face with both of his hands, his thumbs caressing the apples of your cheeks.
“Yeah.” You nod, giving him a small smile, “But I need you to take me home, please, I can feel your cum dripping down my leg.”
“Oh baby,” he coos, tutting as he slides his hands down your body to grab you by the waist, “we’re not going home, it would be rude to leave our friends by themselves. Don’t you think so?” The flabbergasted look that you give him makes another chuckle come from his lips as he slowly turns you towards the door. His lips find the junction between your neck and shoulder again as he announces, “We’re going to go back out there, and we’re going to dance. We wouldn’t want you to miss your song now, would we?”
And when he opens the bathroom door and you hear the first words to a Rihanna song you love? You know it’s going to be a long night ahead of you.
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feyascorner · 5 months
Text
before my nails dig
summary. in which one of Astarion's especially vivid nightmares results in him waking up to Tav at the mercy of his own hands...and the shame that comes with it.
warnings. angst, fluff, comfort
pairing. Astarion x GN!reader
a/n. someone pls get this man therapy that's all i ask,,, also this takes place sometime during act 3 before you confront cazador!! first post too so pls forgive typos
Had breathing always been this hard?
It's not like he had to breathe anyway. The undead have more perks than one would think, and having no need for air was one that became particularly useful in unexpected ways. Yet as he stands in Cazador's dungeon again--a place he longs to rid from the darkest corners of his mind--all he can do is stumble over his own breath, crimson eyes darting around frantically in search of an exit.
And suddenly, his siblings are at the mercy of the ascension, floating helplessly in the chains of a red aura--Cazador's aura. Despite the chaos, Astarion's eyes narrow in on the one pedestal with no occupant, and he realizes it's his own designated place.
It's getting harder to breathe now.
A breath creeps up behind his shoulder, sending pure dread throughout his entire body as he hears Cazador's voice far too close than he ever wanted it to be.
"Wake up, child. This is all you've ever been meant for."
Astarion whips around and lunges at the man, his hands wrapping viciously around the throat he's fantasized about ripping apart for the past two hundred years. His nails dig into the flesh of the vampire lord's neck, leaving indents in the shape of crescent moons, just enough to cause panic but not enough to draw blood. But Cazador only cackles, his eyes staring right into Astarion's as he hollers over and over again.
"Wake up."
"Wake up!"
"--Astarion!"
The spawn's eyes snap open, recognition finally flooding his expression as he finds himself staring down at you. The very face he sees in the softest of dreams, the lips he longs to kiss at every waking moment, and the eyes that gaze at him with the love and adoration he's been missing for most of his wretched eternal life. Though he'd never admit it, you saved him. From the moment he'd threatened your life at the nautiloid crash to the moment he held you close to his chest in the confines of his tent, he would be by your side until you tired of him and threw him away.
All he wanted--all he could wish for--was only a fraction of it in return. And you'd given him that, and so much more.
But now, you're scared. Terrified, even. Of him.
With horror, he realizes his fingers are digging into your throat. Your precious, tender throat that you offer him not for something in return, but simply because you care for him.
All at once as he tears his hands away, he wants to cut them off and bury himself in his own grave again. He doesn't meet your eyes, afraid of what disgust might be held in them, but he knows you're too kind for that. Too kind to see the kind of monster he is.
You're gasping for your breath, and his stomach knots in a way that would have sent him hurling if it weren't for the fact that he's too occupied drinking in what he's done. To you.
"I'm okay, I'm okay, Astarion," you choke out, perching on both your elbows as you struggle to recover. Even now, all you seem to care about is him. He almost hates you for it--hates you for not stabbing a stake through his heart the moment his hands met your neck. "Astarion-"
"Your throat," he croaks, despising the slight crack of his voice as he reaches for your cheek, but stops before he even gets close. He doesn't trust himself to open his mouth again.
"It's okay, really, I can just get Shadowheart to heal me," you shake your head, and he finds himself in disbelief as you crawl toward him, tossing the sheets to the side. He shifts the slightest away and you understand, immediately sitting back down. You look like you want to say something, but you close your mouth and watch him patiently, as if waiting for him to make the first move.
After a suffocating silence, he turns his back to you. "I'll be sleeping elsewhere tonight."
He intends of never sharing a room with you again, in fear of what he could possibly do to you as a result of his selfish desires to keep you close, and you seem to pick up on the tone of his words. You always do. "Astarion, please."
"I do apologize, sincerely. I'll form a better apology tomorrow, but for now, I'll fetch Shadowheart or that damned wizard and-"
He fights the urge to shiver when he feels your hand on his. How you manage to have such an impact on him with a simple touch he does not know, and does not care because all he wants is more. To pull you close, to beg you to keep him, to use him, to punch him, strangle him for all he cared, in hopes you'll even consider ever speaking to him again. Instead, he turns to look at you.
Gods, you're beautiful.
Even with those terrible bruises he'd go to hell and earth to take back, your beauty in unmatched with anything he's ever seen. Even with the bed hair and the anxiousness pursing your lips, he can't bring himself to look away again.
"Please stay. I'm not mad, nor afraid."
The words sound like honey on your tongue.
"Please," You say again, slowly this time. "Stay."
His chest feels tight, threatening to tear itself apart as his voice comes out in a crooked whisper. "I could have killed you."
"You didn't."
"If you died too, I don't know--what would I even do with myself? What would I-" He hates it when he sounds like this. Vulnerable, or as Cazador liked to call it: pathetic. But he can't help the words tumbling out his blasted mouth with the way you're gazing at him with nothing but worry. Somehow, with you, it feels strange.
Refreshing, almost.
Your hand squeezes around his as if to remind him you're still here. He meets your eyes again and it's all it takes to break what little will he has left, as he lets you pull him close in a crushing hug--one that's all too welcomed.
And as the two of you lie awake in each other's embrace, he thanks all the gods he doesn't worship for putting you on his path.
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lemonlover1110 · 3 months
Text
𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃
Choso
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Pairing: Bass Guitarist!Choso x f!Reader
Summary: You usually hang out with Choso after his concerts, only this time he wants to talk about your relationship. Luckily for you, you know how to distract him from important matters.
Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Friends with Benefits, Car Sex, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Nipple Play, Squirting, Creampie, Angst if you squint
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
This art was sent in my server and I was forced to write about him in this AU, anyway I hope you lovelies enjoy!! likes and reblog always appreciated❤️
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There’s a whole crowd that screams Choso’s name from the top of their lungs as his fingers strum against the strings of his bass. Choso, a very reserved man, someone who is not even the star of the band but the most beloved amongst fans. Is it because they barely know anything about him? Or is it because he looks too hot while he really gets into the song? For you, it’s the latter. 
Choso lets himself loose as his mind, body and soul embrace the song. It becomes an issue for him to stay close to the microphone, until he realizes his vocals come up. He’s sweaty, his eyeshadow smudged and running down his cheeks; it’s a look that drives the fangirls wild, and you can’t exactly blame them for it.
They get louder when they hear Choso’s voice, and you wonder if it drives Suguru insane that even though he’s the lead vocalist, he doesn’t get as much attention as Choso. There’s just something about Choso that has everyone in a trance. He looks so seductive even when he barely tries.
The song ends, and the crowd cheers, wanting more from the band. For a moment the only thing you hear is the crowd chanting Choso’s name. You don’t understand why they go wild over him, but then again, you guess that the lack of knowledge about him makes him intriguing. However, you know all you need to know about him. 
“I really don’t get why they go so crazy over him! I’d argue that Getou is hotter.” You yell to your friend, and she rolls her eyes. She knows you’re just talking to talk because given the option, you always choose Choso.
The noise dies as the sound of the bass begins again. All eyes are on Choso until Suguru begins to sing. Your eyes stay on Choso, and his eyes scan the crowd until they land on you. A smile comes onto his face as you maintain eye contact. His eyes finally look away, looking down at his guitar. You know you’ll be seeing each other later.
Just to tease you, he does something that he rarely does. Something that makes the crowd get louder, his tongue running up the neck of his guitar. You roll your eyes as your cheeks get hot. You fucking hate him. 
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You have no issue getting backstage after the show. The security guard looks at your friend funny, but he knows you so he assumes that she’s okay to pass. He doubts that anyone will have a problem since you’re beloved among the band members.
“Hi, Lexi.” You wave at the woman who talks with her boyfriend. Suguru’s arm is thrown over her shoulders while they head to the door that you just walked through. She waves at you, blowing a kiss your way before focusing on her boyfriend again. 
“Where’s Gojo?” Your friend asks, her eyes searching for the white haired man, after all, she joined you just because she knew you could get her the opportunity to talk to Satoru. You were going to come either way since Choso sent you a message, it didn’t hurt for her to tag along. 
You’re about to help her, but your eyes land on Choso. There’s a subtle smile on his face when he notices you. He walks toward you, and you completely ignore your friend as she continues asking about Satoru. She rolls her eyes, knowing damn well that you were acting tough and annoyed as everyone chanted Choso’s name because according to you he isn’t a big deal. It’s clear jealousy.
From what she knows, you and Choso have an unusual friendship– Which is another way of saying that you’re friends with benefits. You both came to an agreement where you could use each other’s bodies with no strings attached, however, tonight it might all come to an end. Whether you like it or not. 
“I’m glad to see you here.” Choso says as you give him a side hug. You don’t like to get too touchy while others are around. He still kisses the top of your head, before he looks at your friend. “Who did you bring with you tonight?”
“Just my friend. She wants to meet Gojo.” You tell him, as his fingers intertwine with yours. Choso calls out for Satoru, hoping that the sooner your friend meets Satoru, the sooner you’ll get out of the place. Although getting out of the place so soon isn’t the best idea since there’s still an army of fans outside that will do just about anything to get a picture with Choso. 
The band’s popularity has increased over the past couple of months, and suddenly Choso always has someone throwing themselves at him. It ticks you off more than you’d like to admit. 
“What?” Satoru asks, clear annoyance in his voice. He notices you and he begins to approach you to give you a hug, but it earns a glare from Choso. All the members know you well and they consider you a good friend, which means they all know your situation with Choso. When Satoru notices the look, he sticks with a simple greeting. “Hey.”
“Hi, Gojo.” You smile at him. You then point to your friend, informing him, “She’s here to meet you.”
“Are you her ride home?” Choso questions, and you shake your head in response. She brought you here knowing that you would go your separate ways after the concert. She saw the message that Choso had left on your phone, and she urged you to come. “Does that mean we can leave?”
“I think so.” You answer. You still check to see if she’s okay being left alone with Satoru before leaving. When she says yes, you lead Choso out of the building. Your eyes stare at the case of his guitar and you ask, “Do you need help? I’m really strong, just so you know.”
He laughs, “No doubt about it, but I can handle it.”
“You’re in a hurry.” Choso comments when you step outside. He takes the lead, dragging you to his car. 
“Weren’t you the one that was asking if we could leave?” You chuckle, and he laughs as well. He opens the trunk to put the case in before walking to the passenger door and opening it for you. He watches you get inside before he shuts the door for you. He nearly runs to the driver’s side, embarrassingly impatient.
“Do you want to join Lexi and Suguru tonight? Or what do you want to do?” Choso isn’t exactly the person to go hang out with his friends after a concert, especially at a bar. But he knows that you like that sort of stuff, so he sticks with you until you’re ready to go back home– Or back to his apartment, whichever place is closest to the place you’re hanging out in.
“Can we just go back to your place?” You respond, your eyes focused on his side profile. You were too jealous earlier to admire just how good he looks tonight.
“Can we talk about–” He begins, but you grab the collar of his shirt and put your lips on his before he can finish his sentence. You know he wants to talk about the message that he sent, something that made you want to stay home tonight. Can we talk about us? Or something along those lines, you just know that you don’t want to change this perfect arrangement.
Your tongue enters his mouth, pressing against his while your hands go to his belt. He doesn’t know why you’re so eager tonight, it doesn’t click in his head. Maybe the little trick from earlier worked to rile you up, and he’s certain that it was that when you unbutton his pants and begin to pull them down. 
“Here? Aren’t you scared–” He begins when you pull away from the kiss but you begin to kiss his neck. Your lips go to that one sweet spot that makes him weak, sucking on it. You aren’t scared that you’ll get caught, that’s good to know. He’s the one that should be worried about getting caught since he’s the one that has to hold a public image. 
The parking lot is private, and it’s pretty much empty. He isn’t too worried about that. 
“Don’t you want to go somewhere more private?” He still asks but he doesn’t bother to stop you as you spit on his cock, your hand wrapping around the base and slowly stroking it. 
“We can talk later. Right now, I need your cock in my mouth.” You kiss his shaft before your tongue drags on his length and begins to circle on his tip. You begin to kiss the tip, causing Choso to bite down his lip. He’s certainly not going to stop now.
Your mouth wraps around his cock, hearing the moan whimper just at the feeling of your pretty mouth wrapped around his dick. Everything you do drives him wild. It’s why he can’t stop you when he wants to talk about more serious issues– Issues that concern your relationship and what you’re doing. 
He doesn’t like it like this though. He loves the sight of your pretty face as your mouth is wrapped around his cock. He still loves the feeling though. He praises you, “You’re doing so good, baby.” 
You take all of him in your mouth, gagging on his length which causes the tears to build up in your eyes. It’s a sight that usually drives the man wild, although he doesn’t like to admit it; unluckily for him, he only sees the back of your head. 
His head is thrown back as his eyes roll to the back of his head. You have complete control over him, and he hates it. But he certainly loves the way he feels at the moment. When the tears fall from your eyes, you lift up your head, detaching yourself from his cock. Your hand takes over, stroking his cock.
“Can we do it here?” You ask him as your thighs rub against one another, the heat between your legs getting too unbearable. Your libido is too high, you can’t wait to go back to his place. You need him now.
Choso’s cheeks are flushed, and the man’s brain goes a thousand miles per minute. What you’re thinking of is riskier, and if anyone walks by, you’ll get caught. But he doesn’t care. He needs you too. 
“Yeah, let’s do it here.” He agrees, and you crawl over to his side. You lift up your skirt, moving your panties to the side. Two of his fingers run through your folds, noting just how wet you are when he’s done nothing to you. The mere thought of him drives you insane.
You align his cock with your entrance before slowly sitting on it. His lips land on yours, feeling your moans vibrate through your tongue as you move on his cock. 
You move back and forth on his cock. You feel euphoric as his cock repeatedly hits your g-spot. 
Choso pulls away, grabbing the back of your neck to pull your face away. He needs to admire your beautiful face, taking in every single detail about it. You look so alluring with your messed up makeup. Your mascara runs down your cheeks, and he gets a sense of satisfaction knowing that he caused it. 
“You feel so good, baby.” He moans, his nose burying in the crook of your neck. He takes in your scent, getting more intoxicated by you. You’re controlling all of his thoughts lately, even though you’re not even trying.
“You’re so big.” You say, your back arching as Choso begins to thrust his hips instead of leaving it to you to handle it all. Your hand goes down to play with your clit, giving you more stimulation so your high approaches sooner. The faster you finish, the faster you can go again. “Oh– Choso!”
“Fuck–” He can’t help but curse. He’s getting so lost inside of you. In more ways than one. 
His hand pulls down your tank top, and the man gets upset at the bra that gets in the way of what he wants. He pulls down the cups of your bra so his tongue circles around your nipples. He greedily kisses and licks before his mouth finally wraps around one of your tits. 
His other hand begins to toy with the nipple that isn’t in his mouth, teasing it and pinching it. All the stimulation makes your brain foggy as your climax begins to get the best of you. You continue to chant his name, getting louder and louder. 
“Oh, fuck!” You yell as you come around his cock. You make a mess all over him, squirting on him. You’d be embarrassed with someone else, but Choso has seen you do so much worse– It helps that you know he absolutely loves it. Choso bites down on your nipple before unlatching.
“You’re such a good girl. Making a mess all over me.” His hands move to your hips, his nails digging into your flesh. 
“You always take me so well.” He’s kissing your neck, his thrusts getting sloppy. His warm cum fills you up not too long after, and you bite down your bottom lip to not moan. You fucking love it when he fills you up, but he rarely does it. He got too caught up in the moment. 
He stays buried inside of you, continuing kissing your neck, going up to your face. He almost whispers, “Can we talk?”
“Your dick is buried inside of me, might as well.” You chuckle, and he awkwardly returns the gesture. His soft eyes look into yours, and the look tells you all you need to know. You were suspecting it since lately Choso has been more… Romantic than what you had agreed upon. Getting flowers weekly isn’t what your friend is supposed to do.
“I want you.” He can’t put it any other way. Choso’s written what feels like hundreds of songs but he can’t find the right words to express himself. You don’t want to have this conversation now, or any time soon for that matter.
You take advantage of his indistinct way of expressing himself. It's not that you don't want him the same way, it's just easier to keep what you have going on. Choso is getting too big so fast, you don't want to start something that'll end up badly. Which is simply ironic.
You reach to the side of the seat, reclining the seat, pushing his back down. Your lips go to his ear, whispering, “You have me.”
It’s not the way he means it, not one bit. But he’ll take it until he can express himself properly.
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middlepartmatt · 1 month
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Hotshot
“you're buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud... but i'm about to show you, baby, slow down” — SLOW DOWN, chase atlantic
SUMMARY: you and matt have been enemies since you were kids, but one night when you're forced to share a bed with him, everything changes.
WARNINGS: smut, mainly dom!matt, mainly sub!reader, oral (fem receiving), doggy lol
AUTHOR’S NOTE: first smut on here i am NERVOUSSSSSSSSSSS but anyway this is an outtake from my matt fic on wattpad causeeeeee i can't be getting cancelled on that silly little app... i hope u enjoy lol. ALSO if you don't like smut that's not really my issue so just don't read it!
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"I'm not sleeping in here."
Matt rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he looks from you to the bed, then back again. 
"Nick and Chris are already asleep," he says. "So unless you wanna go and wake them up, you're stuck with me."
You sigh, looking around the room.
"I'll just sleep on the couch," you decide.
"It's not like we haven't slept together in the same bed before," he reminds you, referring to when you would have sleepovers with the triplets back when you were kids. He pulls off his black tee and climbs into the bed. "So just get in."
Your eyes widen, but you obey, climbing in on the other side. You immediately roll over, turning away from Matt since you knows he's facing the middle. Why does he always have to face the middle? It infuriates you.
To your surprise, Matt doesn't say anything else. Considering you'd just been having an argument for five minutes about the sleeping situation, you'd expected him to try and get in one last dig at you before you both go to sleep. He's not done that though, instead he's fallen completely silent.
You know he isn't asleep. When Matt's asleep, his breathing becomes heavier, a little ragged, but right now he's silent as ever. You shift uncomfortably under the blanket, not sure what to make of the situation. Matt's right; you've slept in a bed together before, yet it feels weird now, with his brothers in the room just next door.
But it's not just that.
It also feels weird because of the fact that you feels the need to cross your legs, and that your heart is beating faster than usual. Matt's room, which is usually freezing, seems boiling hot right now. You're thinking that it just might have to do with the fact that Matt's currently shirtless.
Matt moves, causing you to be snapped out of your thoughts and jolt at the movement. You inhale sharply, feeling your eyes on her back.
"'s something the matter?" he questions.
"Nope," you reply quickly, but your voice betrays you. 
"You sure?" Matt hums. "You seem uncomfortable."
"Just shut up and go to sleep," you snap. Matt just chuckles.
"Night, angel," he says, using that infuriating nickname he'd given you back in elementary school. Angel. It's not supposed to be a compliment, but rather make fun of you for supposedly being a goody-two shoes, which you personally don't think you are.
"Night, hotshot," you answer. You started calling him this a few years ago, when he was promoted to main goalie of the lacrosse, and also when he and his brothers started getting popular on YouTube. Annoyingly, he doesn't seem to hate the nickname as much as you hate yours.
You closes your eyes but still, your senses pick up on his every breath, every shift of his body in the pitch black darkness. Yeah, you're definitely not getting any sleep tonight.
You hear Matt moving around, then suddenly feel something cold on your waist. It takes you a moment to realize it's Matt's hand, now resting lightly on your hip.
You stare straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge the touch. Maybe it's an accident? you think, but there's no way Matt would accidentally put his hand on you.
Okay, now you are most definitely not getting any sleep tonight. Not that you really mind though, to be honest. 
You feels his fingers slide up your stomach, tracing the curve of your hip. You shiver involuntarily, and his hand slides back down, grazing the hem of your tank top.
"Is this okay?" he whispers, and you just nod. You're not even sure you'd be able to speak, anyway.
You then feels his hand move upwards again, slowly, deliberately, until it reaches the bottom of your breast. You gasp softly, arching your back slightly, offering him better access. His hand cups your tit, squeezing gently, making you moan softly. His thumb brushes against your nipple, sending a jolt through your body.
You can't help but let out a small whimper. His fingers are still pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, and you can feel you core starting to throb.
You close your eyes, biting your bottom lip. You can feel his breath on your neck, and you slowly pulls his hand off of you so that you can turn around to face him. You tilt your head up to meet his lips. His tongue slips into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.
After a second you break the kiss, panting. "Matt," you say, barely above a whisper. 
"Yes, angel?" he replies.
"You shaved," you point out. Last you'd noticed, he had a little bit of stubble where he hadn't bothered shaving the last couple of days. 
"Thought it would make for a smoother ride," he murmurs in response, and he kisses her again. You feels yourself getting wetter at his words as you kiss him back, your hands roaming over his chest. Matt kisses your neck, trailing his tongue along your skin, and you arch your back once again, pressing yourself against him. You can feel him against your front, and just the touch of his dick against you only makes you needier for him.
Matt moves his hands down your body, pulling your tank top up over her head. You lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. He trails kissed on your collarbone, before moving down your stomach. You lie back, letting him take control. 
You lets out a soft whimper as he reaches your pyjama shorts, toying with the edge of the waistband.
"Matt," you whimper. He doesn't reply, pulls them down along with your underwear, exposing you.
"You're so wet," he muses, a grin present on his lips. "Is this all for me, angel?"
"Obviously," you answer, rolling your eyes. Becoming impatient, you grab a fistful of his hair and pull him towards you.
He licks your slit, tasting you. You moan, arching your hips towards him. His tongue flicks over your clit, making you shudder, before he begins sucking on it gently. You moan louder now, grinding your hips against his face. He licks your clit again, and you cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from crying out.
Matt pushes two fingers inside of you, causing you to cry out in pleasure. You grab onto his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin. He slides his fingers in and out of you, making you writhe beneath him. You bite your lip, trying not to make too much noise.
He puts his thumb on your clit, rubbing it slowly. You're slowly coming undone, moaning loudly, but he doesn't stop as he continues to rub your clit while he fingers you. 
"I want your tongue again, hotshot," you say breathlessly, and Matt simply grins before obeying, moving forward and licking up your slit once again. You yelp, her whole body responding to his action. "Keep going," you order, and he does, tipping you over the edge.
"Fuck, Matt, fuck," you whimper as you cum, legs shaking under Matt's touch. 
You collapse onto the mattress, breathing heavily. Matt kisses your stomach, moving up to kiss your lips again. You taste yourself on his lips and you moan, reaching out to stroke his cock through his pyjama pants. Matt exhales sharply, bucking his hips into you.
You smirk, pulling down both his pyjama pants and boxers, before taking hold of his cock and stroking it gently. He groans as you run your finger over his slit, stroking him faster until you can feel him about to cum. Already. 
You stop, and he glares at you. His eyes are dark in this dim lighting, fueled with desire just for you.
"Don't tease me, angel," he says quietly.
"What?" you ask sweetly. "I want to taste you."
It looks like it takes all of Matt's strength not to cum at your words. Instead he just nods, and so you climb on top of him, straddling him. You crane your body downwards, and he watches as you take his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, making him groan.
You take more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. He holds your head, thrusting his cock deeper into your mouth. You gag, but refuse to pull away.
"Just like that, baby," he tells you, his hand still gripping your hair tightly. "Fuck," he whimpers, and you almost come undone at the sound alone. "Jesus, angel... yeah... just like that," he mumbles to himself, eyes closed as he throws his head back while you continue to suck him.
You feels him finish, shooting his hot cum into your mouth. You swallow it all, moaning, and he finally pulls you off of him. You sit up, wiping the cum from your mouth. Once you've regained focus, you see that he's already half-hard again.
"Want me to fuck you?" he asks nonchalantly like he wasn't just whimpering for you moments before. You just nod, moving up and kneeling on the mattress. Matt gets behind you, rubbing his cock against your opening. Without warning, he slides it inside of you, making you gasp.
He begins fucking you, pushing his cock deep inside of you. You moan, pressing your ass further up against him.
"Matt," you groan, causing Matt to thrust faster and harder. "Matt," you repeat, and he moans.
"Keep doing that, baby," he tells you.
"Matt," you breathe. It's all you can say as he continues fucking you, his cock going deeper inside of you with every thrust.
"Fuck, angel," he mutters. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
He continues to fuck you, making you scream out in pleasure. He pulls your hair, and you groan at the harshness of his touch. You arch further into him, noticing how it makes his hips buck harder into you.
"Matt," you whisper, hearing the way he moans loudly as his name leaves your lips.
"Angel, oh my God..."
"You there yet, hotshot?"
Matt shakes his head, refusing to fall for your teasing. He pulls out, causing your mouth to fall open in shock, before he rubs his tip against your clit. You moan loudly, wanting nothing more than for him to continue fucking you as he was before.
He slides his cock back inside of you, and you whimper in pleasure. He thrusts harder into you, making you cry out. He starts fucking you faster, making you moan even louder. On a high, you reach between her legs, playing with your clit.
"Am I not good enough for you, baby?" he questions, laughing dryly.
"Help me out here," you answer. "I'm almost there, fuck!"
He reaches down, grabbing your hand. He makes you keep playing with yourself, all while he fucks you harder, making you moan louder. He pulls your hand away, and you cry out.
"I'm cumming, Matt," you whimper, and he unravels at the sound of his name leaving your lips, thrusting harder as his orgasm bursts through him. You finish too, letting out a loud moan as you shudder, the feeling coursing through your body.
Matt pulls out, and both of you immediately roll over and lie back down on the bed. You lay in silence, apart from their ragged breathing. A moment later, he turns to face you.
"Still not wanna sleep in here?" he asks smugly. You roll your eyes.
"I said sleep, not fuck," you scoff. "Now shut up or I'm gonna be showering alone."
Matt does in fact shut up.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE PT.2: hi LOL ??? i never know what to say in author's notes it's always so awkward but anyway... feel free to request anything you wanna see: matt, chris, or both!
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entitled-fangirl · 4 months
Text
Sparring.
Jasper Hale x vampire!reader
Summary: As Jasper teaches how to fight the newborns, the reader and Bella talk about her past.
Words: 1,551
Warning: vampire stuff, talk of death, cursing
Author's note: I can't tell if I love it or hate it but here you go anyway!
Masterlist &lt;3
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The famous silver jeep of the Cullen’s pulled up as she watched Emmett be thrown into the dirt. 
The entire family turned as Edward and Bella stepped out of the car.
As they walk to the family, so do the wolves. 
Each vampire held to their mate as they watched said wolves come out from the tree line. Soft growls came from their snouts from the obvious smell of vampires.
Jasper held on to her as they did so, his arms around her waist, his chest providing support against her back. 
Edward stepped to Carlisle, “They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.”
Carlisle nodded, “At least they came. That’s enough. Will you translate?”
Carlisle stepped towards the wolves, thanking them for coming before explaining that Jasper would be the teacher in this scenario.
Jasper’s loving mate smiled. She loved sparring as a family.
Some time passes and the girl now sits on the hood of the jeep next to Bella. She leans over, “I’ve always found this entertaining. Watching them,  I mean…”
Bella smiled as Emmett flew threw the air once again. “I did have a question, if you don’t mind me asking…?”
The girl nods, anticipating what the human could possibly think of to ask.
“Jasper knows a lot about this kind of thing… I mean… Why is that exactly..?”
His mate shifts slightly, not expecting that question. “Well, Bella. I don’t feel that I’m the one that should tell you. Perhaps you should ask him. It’s… a horrid story, honestly. I’m not sure he’d want it out there, you know?”
Bella nods, “yeah, right. I get it… sorry.”
The girl’s head perks up at the sound of her name being called by Carlisle. “Oh, shit. My turn to go. Watch me, Bells?”
Bella grins, “Of course.”
Jasper stood confidently on the dirt ground, his eyes trained on the person in front of him.
His pretty mate. 
She held the same look in her eyes. 
They had sparred many times before. And they were both quite good. He taught her practically everything he knows. 
The entire family gathered around to see how it would play out. Would they go easy on each other? Who would win?
It seemed the two held that look in their eyes as well as they tried to scope the other one’s thoughts.
Then he rushed her. 
They were both incredible to watch as if they were dancing. Their bodies seemed to always know what the other would do, even when changing their fighting style. It seemed the two lovers truly knew each other in and out. 
Eventually she slipped, and Jasper seized his opportunity, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him. 
Pulled against his body, her face was mere inches from him. The tension between the two rose as his gaze fell to her lips. God, he couldn’t resist her even when he was pretending to be her enemy.
And she was no better.
She focused on the feeling of his strong grip, his sturdy fingers wrapped around her seemingly delicate wrist. 
If they were alone, this sparring match would have escalated, like it usually does when they are so. But today, they simply stared at each other. Those who didn’t know them would assume they were calculating what the other might do next, but no. This family knew them quite well. And thank god no one else had Jasper’s gift, or the tension would bring a blush to their cheeks.
She gently leaned forward, their lips brushing. Jasper tilted his head down to receive her soft lips. But they never came.
She swept his leg out from under him, pinning him to the ground as she placed a knee on his chest. 
She leaned down to his face, whispering softly in his ear, “What was that you said? Don’t get distracted?”
He smiled, letting his head fall back against the dirt. 
She would be the death of him. 
And he would love it.
The sparring continued the next day as she found herself sitting next to Bella on the hood of the car again.
She watched Jasper as he sparred with an admiring look in her eye. She loved the Major with all her heart. 
Or, what was left of it anyway.
If it still pumped blood, she would be able to feel it beat for him.
“Do you mind if I ask you another question? A different one, this time?”
The girl nods, “Yeah, don’t see why not.” 
Bella looks down at the dirt. “Can I ask what happened to you? How you… how you got here?”
She felt a breath come out of her unused lungs, “Oh. Yeah. ‘Course. It’s… not a pleasant story but any means… are you sure?”
The human nods, “Please. I’m trying to understand you guys better.”
The girl leans back slightly, regaining her bearings. “Alright. Well… I was born in 1941. I uh, grew up in the 50s. Not the best timing, obviously. Do you know much about the ’50’s, Bella?”
The human’s head tilts back and forth in thought, “A little. Civil rights and stuff..?”
“Yeah. Well, the Korean War was in the 50’s. There was this military guy that fell in love with me. And I to him. But… we, uh… how do I say this? He was… we were…?”
Bella leans forward, “…what? Just say it.”
“Well, we were different skin tones. And.. well, I don’t need to say much more. Anyway, there was this other man that decided he liked me. He was pigheaded and awful. I hated him. He tormented me everyday. I finally told him about the man that-“
“-what was his name?”
The girl’s head perked up, “Whose?”
Bella met her eyes, “…the one you loved.”
A deep sigh left the vampire’s lips, “…Johnathan.”
Bella nodded, leaning back again to let the girl continue her story.
“I told the man about… Johnathan and… the man began to tell everyone in town. It became the only thing anyone talked about until eventually…. Eventually...,” the girl’s voice faded out in thought. “…I’m sorry. I haven’t told this story in so long…”
“It’s alright. Take your time.”
“Thank you… uh… the man formed a mob and approached us in the park one day. Johnathan tried to protect me. And he did. Until they… killed him…” the girl stared at the ground, a somber look in her eyes. “…and the man ended up being a vampire… he changed me and… well… yeah.”
Bella nodded, “How did you find Carlisle?”
“Oh. Right. Uh, I was on the run… after I changed. I actually ran into him. Well, he ran into me. He…. He stood to where I would crash into him, so he could talk to me. He knew everything. He took me in. And I met Jasper…”
Her eyes wandered back to Jasper. His sleeves were pulled up, exposing the skin of his forearms, and the scars that resided there. He was so strong. So perfect. Her knight in shining armor. 
Bella noticed the girl’s longing gaze and smiled to herself. “…how did you know he was the one?”
The girl turned back to Bella, “Oh. You just know, Bella. It’s… ugh, it’s this feeling you get in your heart. Like you’ve finally taken a breath after being underwater for years. Like your souls have intertwined and have become one. It’s… strange to put into words…”
Bella nods, “It sounds wonderful.”
She nods too, “Oh, it is. Edward feels that way about you.”
Bella looks up in surprise, “Really?”
She smiles, “Yeah. He told me that the day he met you. Like he couldn’t think around you. You… occupy all of his thoughts. You fascinate him.”
The human grins, “And that’s how Jasper feels?”
“-How I feel about what?”
Jasper had walked up to the two, a grin on his face. He leaned against the car on his side, his arm resting over his girl’s leg. 
His mate smiled, “Perhaps it’s none of your business… girl things…”
Jasper scoffed, “Sure, darlin’. Anything you say.”
Her hand reached up to run it through his hair. 
The three sat in silence for a while before the girl broke it. “I need to go back to the house. Help me down, Jas?”
He stood, reaching his arms out, gripping her waist to help her down. She was vampire. She didn’t need help. And they both knew that. 
Bella scooted forward, “Wait, before you go…?”
The girl turned around in Jasper’s arms. “…Yeah?”
“What happened to him? …To the guy that…”
The girl’s lips pulled up into a smirk. Her head turned slightly to look at Jasper’s face that held the same knowing smirk of his own. “Well, Bella. He… got what he deserved…” 
And with that, she walked away. 
Bella gawked slightly, now focusing on Jasper, hoping he could illuminate on the situation. 
But he continued to grin, watching his girl walk away. 
Eventually, Jasper felt Bella’s confused emotion and turned to her. “I made a vow not to kill after I met her…”
Bella’s eyebrows knitted together, and Jasper’s smirk grew into a grin. 
“…But I fucking killed him.”
And with that, silence overtook the forest as he continued to watch his girl walk away.
.............................................................................
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inkedbybarnes · 2 months
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anything
bucky barnes x fem!reader
summary: bucky is determined to take care of you while you're sick.
word count: 1.6k+
warnings: mentions of insecurities, mentions of illnesses (but vaguely described), fluffy ahh shit bc why not, usage of pet names such as baby and doll. bucky being stubbornly sweet (it is indeed, a warning), lowercase writing.
i've been sick the past few days hence the creation of this fic. idk why my mood drops when i'm sick... once again, this is too fluffy even for my own good but i warned you and you're reading it still anyway. 🤨 haha jk, i hope you enjoy this one! 🩷
dividers by @cafekitsune!
reblogs, comments, and likes are highly appreciated! thank you. ♡
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“can you please let me in, baby?"
that was the fifth time bucky had asked the same question, never giving up on his mission to take care of you after learning from jarvis – out of all people... or robots? – that you were sick.
“bucky, i promise, i'm fine. stop trying to break the door,” you answered, your clogged nose not helping as you sounded horrible even with a concrete wall separating you from him. “go and tell steve that you're joining the mission. you can't withdraw yourself just because i'm—achoo!”
your nose began to leak, and you were now distracted with the need to find the tissue box that used to be on your bed. you didn't hear the door clicking open as well as the heavy footsteps of a certain soldier walking towards you.
“just because you're what? sick?”
you jumped, feeling the edge of the bed sink with his weight. you quickly grabbed the tissue box that was mysteriously thrown under the bed before facing bucky with the duvet covering most of your body.
“how did you open the door?”
bucky shrugged. “i broke the doorknob. you didn't say anything about breaking doorknobs.”
you sighed, not winning this argument with bucky. “you shouldn't be here, bucky. you're supposed to be preparing for a mission tomorrow, not babysitting me!”
“and let you go through this on your own? tough chance, doll. i'm your boyfriend for fuck's sake, and don't tell me that you're worried about getting me sick because we both know i'm immune," he argued, reaching out and pulling the blanket down enough to reveal your face. “are you really upset that i want to take care of you? you should be demanding things from me, baby. instead you've been hiding from me.”
“because i don't need anything, bucky. i can handle myself just fine." you huffed, knowing you wanted his attention and care so badly. remembering your face was exposed, you felt insecure again. you dragged the cover back up and turned away. “i also don't want you to see me like this.”
“like what?"
“like a mess," you muttered underneath the sheets. “you've never seen me like this before, and i swear i am the worst when i'm sick. you don't have to see me like this, okay? i don't want you to.”
you felt silly. it was completely normal to get sick, but you hated how extreme your body would act out whenever an illness would attack you. you'd always sound and look like you were fighting a battle in hell alone. the way your mind would take an entire flip and drag you to your lowest point didn't help either. so, not only were you feeling physically horrible, you were also struggling mentally.
“a mess? what mess?” he asked, lifting the cover to join you underneath it which caught you off guard. you were entirely exposed to his eyes now. “there's my girl. where's the mess that you're talking about, huh?”
with the little amount of energy left in you, you brought your hands up to cover your face. he could see how much of a mess you were now, far from the dream you've painted since the day you dated him. now, you were nothing but a nightmare of your reality.
“don't you dare hide from me. i haven't seen you all day and it's driving me insane," he complained, pulling your hands away from yourself. he brought his thumb to your teary eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fall. “i can't believe you're hiding from me just because you think i can't handle seeing you sick. what did you think i'd do once i saw you like this?”
you sniffed, hesitation holding you back from telling him the truth. it's only been three months since you've started dating bucky, and you were still in that stage where you'd constantly try impress him.
you weren't faking yourself, no. however, you still did your best to only show your good side and tuck away your insecurities. unfortunately, you had to get sick too soon and have to risk bucky seeing you this way.
“you thought i'd leave you? won't like you anymore? get turned off or something?”
you nodded, knowing that was exactly what went through your head and a bit pissed that he was able to read your mind without actually having the power to do so.
bucky's eyes softened at your confession, letting out a soft sigh as he saw how badly you were beating yourself up.
“if it's because of how you look right now, then it's true. you do look different," he answered, your chest tightening. “your eyes lost their glow, you're frowning more often, your eyes are all puffy, you are definitely grumpier than usual, your lips are dry and chapped from—”
“okay, i get it, bucky! you don't have to rub it in my fa—”
“but i won't be doing whatever is on your mind. you're sick, doll. it'll affect you. it's normal. hell, i look even worse when i used to get sick, but you? you still look so fucking lovely." he held your face gently, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “even then, i don't give a fuck on how messy you can get. i'm your boyfriend. i should be taking care of you, helping you feel better, and bringing back the glow in your eyes. please, baby. let me take care of you.”
this time, you were looking back at him. "you mean it?"
"of course I mean it," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "i love you, doll. i don't care how you look like right now. you could look like a swamp monster and be sick as a dog, and i would still think that you are the most beautiful woman for me."
you giggled softly, his words filling you with warmth and reassurance. you felt so lucky to have a man who truly loved you and handled your insecurities with such understanding and care, and even sillier for thinking he'd leave you for such reasons.
“thank you. that really made me feel better," you told him, your arms slowly creeping forward to hold him. “i'm sorry for hiding. i was just scared to turn you off or anything.”
“are you kidding? i'm trying my best not to hold you down and kiss you all over. i haven't even hugged you for a day,” bucky said, a pout on the verge of forming on his face.
“it hasn't even been a day, bucky. now, who's dramatic?" you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “and you're supposed to be on a mission tomorrow! are you really not going?”
“when i could be here taking care of you?” he asked, as if the answer was already obvious. “the others can handle it. my main priority is to do anything you want and make you feel better.”
“anything?”
he smiled, leaning down to let your lips meet softly. "anything."
( a lil bonus < 3 )
“what is that smell?”
sam, steve, and natasha entered the compound after a quick briefing for their mission tomorrow. they joined tony and clint who were having a casual conversation in the living room about the best burrito in town.
the kitchen was an open space, the aroma of whatever bucky was cooking spreading all around the nearby rooms.
sam didn't hesitate to come closer and inspect the kitchen, finding the entire counter lined up with various spices and plates that bucky filled with his dishes.
“what's the occasion? did i miss something?" sam asked, grabbing a fork to take a little taste until bucky slapped his hand away. "ow! what was that for?"
"hands off." bucky warned, frowning at sam. “that's not for you, wilson."
“not even a nibble? come on, man. it smells amazing!”
their usual bickering caught the attention of the other avengers, immediately joining them in the kitchen which annoyed bucky even more when he saw them eyeing the food he made.
"before any of you try to ask, no. this is not for any of you."
"who's it even for?" natasha asked, the least interested to have a taste, but was curious either way.
bucky answered with your name. "she's sick."
"what? since when?" clint asked, worry flashing across his face. "can we do anything?"
bucky glanced up before hesitantly answering. "well.. she did say she wanted to watch a movie after eating."
clint snapped his fingers and smiled. "i'm on it."
"i'll get jarvis to check on her vitals every hour and create a diagnosis," tony said, already tapping on his smart watch. "assuming she wouldn't be too comfortable letting the entire team know what's going on with her body, i'll just let you receive the updates. just update me with what you can, yeah?"
"i'll talk to fury and let you both have a week free from work," steve offered. "she needs the rest and she needs you."
"oh, i'll handle fury. he can't say no to his favourite," natasha said with a smug smile. "tell her i'll bring her all her favourite snacks once we're back from our mission, and that she better be back to full health so we can go out together."
bucky nodded, chest warming with the genuine concern they shared. he was excited to let you know how loved and deserving of all this you were.
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if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌
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etfrin · 6 months
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The Reward — Coriolanus Snow ♡
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⇢☾Warning: NSFW | pinv sex, mirror sex-ish if you squint, dub con if you squint, overstimulation if you squint, face riding, creampie, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), snow is his own warming, dom sub undertones, reader has ear piercings, degradation, hints of a toxic relationship, impact play (spanks your ass a few times), dumbfication if you squint, low-key soft! Snow in the beginning | lmk if I forgot anything!
⇢☾Pairing: young president Coriolanus Snow! x fem! Reader
⇢☾Summary: Coriolanus Snow gives you a reward by being gentle af and then by being a mean animal (kinda) dnsjsk🤭
⇢☾A/N: it's 3:00 am and i need to sleep, i thought about Snow taking off my heels after a gala and this was born <3
< arranged marriage m.list > < tag list > < masterlist >
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Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman but he wasn't gentle. Perhaps this was an alternative universe, a fever dream but you couldn't believe what was happening right now in front of your eyes. Your pupils were in shock, your palms were sweating as you continued to take in the sight.
The sight of Snow being on his knees as he unclasps the belts of your uncomfortable heels. You swallow, “Coryo, you don't have to” but his head tilts up and his eyes are still his. Blue, cold, empty, and never ending like the ocean. A calmness washed over you, the look in his eyes proof enough that this was one of his many tricks to keep you satisfied and happy and you have to indulge him in it.
So you let him gently take off your shoes and set them aside. You await his further actions and let out a soft, small moan as his lips pressed to one of your knees. His mouth keeps pressing wet kisses up to your upper thigh, leaving behind a trail of his saliva on your skin.
This was a reward. Coriolanus was so proud of his pretty and smart wife today. You behaved accordingly in the gala tonight, letting him take the credit for your ideas. You understood your duties and that's why this is one of the few times Coryo will ever kneel for or be this gentle. It's a thank you he can't voice so he does it by his actions.
His lips find themselves kissing inside your inner thigh now, gently nipping the skin as you let out needy mewls. He could see the wet spot forming in your panties and felt the usual pride in his mind bloom. Only he could have you wet so easily and damn, if that didn't skyrocket his ego.
He kissed the wet spot, the juices now glistening onto his pink lips and he pulled back. You whimper as he does, and he wants to coo at you and tease you for being a greedy pet. But he doesn't, it's a reward after all.
He stood up and pressed a kiss to your forehead before his hand grabbed the box of make-up wipes. You still hadn't said a word, letting him do his thing. He gently wiped the makeup off your face, clearing you of the chemicals he hated but you had to apply them to stay in fashion.
His fingers then gently take off the earrings you had worn, and then one by one all the rings you had except the wedding ring of course. His touch had lingered during all of those actions, making your body heat up and your panties soaked. Soft sighs escape you as he continues to adore you in such a gentle manner. As if you're made of the most precious diamond but easily breakable without care.
That's what he might have thought of you. So damn important to his sanity but any action of yours can damn him to hell. A risk, a liability to everything he has. But in his mind, you're worth it all and he has done every single scenario where things can go wrong, so many sleepless nights dedicated to these thoughts.
Snow lands on top.
Nothing you can do can mess him up, nothing. He makes sure of it with his every living breath. It's the reason he can spoil you like this, be a deserving man to his wife otherwise Coriolanus Snow is a monster (and you know that and accept him anyway).
He unzips your dress, his lips now pressing a heated kiss to your nape as his fingertips trace your bare skin. His touch was cold as ice, the heat of your body cooling down to his touch. It gave you relief momentarily but it was clear that you wanted more. The whimper that left your mind as he unclasped your bra was enough proof of that.
With your breasts set free from their confines, Corio’s hands begin to knead your soft tits. His eyes look into the mirror as he watches himself message your soft breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples making the sensitive pebbles hard. He rolls the buds, playing with them until you moan, your body flushing with lust in your veins. You begin to rub your thighs, getting desperate for any sort of friction but you force yourself to stop as he tsks near your ear.
“Don't, doll,” he whispered as one of his hands began the journey of going down on your body, the heat of his palm onto your tummy and then so close to your clothed pussy. “Spread,” he commands and you follow without embarrassment or hesitation.
Your soaked panties come into your view through the mirror and you want to look away from the shyness you still had but didn't. Instead, a whine escapes your lips that makes Coriolanus chuckle. “Such a needy pet. I will take care of you, darling. No need to worry.”
You moan as he refers to you as darling for the first time. Your cunt clenching desperately around nothing as your mind gets dizzy. There was something about how he had said it. Soft and warm, his voice dipping a bit lower as he pronounced the letters and it was tinged with a feeling he wouldn't associate himself with.
Love.
You whimper, “Please” and he hushes you as his fingers snap the band of your panties before he dips a single finger onto your wet folds. He smirks, his face looking into the mirror to gaze into your glazed eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered and you didn't bother to take offense, his words turning you on as much as his finger circling on your clit was.
A broken moan escapes as his fingers decide to pinch the sensitive nub, and he coats his fingers with your juices. A string of sticky white cream on his digits as he takes his hand out of your panties and places his covered fingers inside the wet carven of his mouth. He expertly sucks clean of his fingers, popping them out of his mouth with an obscene sound.
He smirks to himself as he relishes the taste of you. His. Just his you were. He leaves you there, alone on the chair as he walks to the bed. He wasn't wearing anything except for his pants. His suit and shirt were taken off earlier.
You waited for his further command as he got himself comfortable on the bed. “Come here,” he said and you listen. You take off your wet panties and let them stay ruined on the floor as you practically crawl to Coryo. You straddle him and wait some more.
He doesn't say anything, his face blank but his sky-blue eyes heated. His hands were on your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, making sure to grip you tight enough to mark you.
His tongue comes out to wet his rather dried lips. Your breath hitches as you see it and the sight of you being so affected by such a simple action made him feel like a. . . Lord.
He doesn't say anything, but did he need to? You knew him all too well, so you don't question yourself as you begin to move. The new position had you gripping the headboard while his hands shamelessly groped your ass, even occasionally giving small sharp slaps onto the flesh, making it red. It was simply another way of marking you.
Meanwhile, your eyes were closed, your mind forgetting about the existence of reality as his hot breath hit your glistening folds and made you quiver. “Go ahead,” he permits you.
Not even a second later, you begin to ride his face. He groans as his lips meet with your cunt. His tongue begins with broad, messy strokes of your pussy, gathering as much as your juices possible. All the while your eyes roll back and you moan. A sharp slap on the flesh of your ass has you grinding yourself onto his face. His nose nudged your sensitive, swollen clit perfectly as his tongue continued to swirl and flick around your cunt with calculated broad strokes that made you whine his name.
Soon his mouth finds your clit and begins to relentlessly suck your bundle of nerves. You cry out, pleading that this is too much and you can't- can't take it! But your begging was unheard and your pleas turned into louder moans, whimpers for pleas, and more. His sucking gets harsher and the overstimulation makes your mind reel. The warmth that was gathering in your lower body begins to spread all over, turning your bones to jelly and your mind to nothing as you cum onto his face. The rolls of your hips slowly as he continues to lap at all the cream released and your pussy keeps on spasming.
Your mind wanted more so you decided to take more. You had understood this was a reward for being good. So you can be a bit bad for now. So despite his grunt of displeasure as you get off his face, you quickly find yourself getting rid of his remaining clothes.
His cock was hard, the red tip angry and gleaming with pre-cum that coated most of his length. The sight had you salivating. Coryo knew you were nothing more than a cockdrunk slut and he called you that, you feel yourself glow from his words, not finding the word even a little bit degrading.
“I love you,” you mumbled as you lowered yourself onto his cock with a wanton moan echoing through the room. He groans, “Fuck yourself good, pet. You're in charge of your pleasure tonight. Go ahead, dove.”
“Yes, Coryo,” you whine as you feel yourself full of his cock. You felt yourself squeezing his thick length, a gasp escaping you as you tried to get used to his cock without being prepped. A groan could be heard as he felt his dick getting squeezed by your wet, tight cunt.
He wants to fuck into you and he almost does. But Coriolanus Snow was a gentleman and a gentleman kept his word. Especially when he can see his wife looking so fucking pretty being fucked out from his cock merely twitching inside her walls.
“Begin,” he demands, his voice haughty and filled with lust but you weren't ready. However, you couldn't bring yourself to care. You begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, you let yourself savor the action of his cock grinding against every hidden pleasure spot inside of your cunt. You moan as your pussy takes his cock deeper until his tip is pressed right against your g-spot making you see stars. You begin to grind back and forth so he keeps hitting that spot, you begin to sweat, your thighs clenching, and you couldn't keep focus as pleasure feels your every vein and his cock making you dumb. Simple actions seemed impossible to you and you wanted to beg him to take over, to make you cum again and again until you were broken.
He was unaware of your turmoil, his eyes onto the sight where his cock meets with your cunt, the combined fluid of his pre-cum and your slick dripping down onto his skin. The sight was filthy and he loved it. He clenched his jaw, trying so hard to be a patient gentleman to his wife.
He treated this like a test against himself because he knew what you did to his self-control. You aren't going to win this, he's not going to let go. He will not fuck into you like an animal, he refused to.
But was it losing when you were out of it like this? As if you were truly nothing but a dumb slut who just needs to cum. He decided that this wasn't a loss, but a win. He was doing you a favor when his hips began to snap upwards, his cock thrusting inside of you faster than the pace you had set. It was a pity that he felt so that's why he went back to his words. He was in control of your pleasure and he always will be. Self-control had nothing to do with it, he told himself.
You scream out in pleasure as several spanks are delivered onto your ass, turning the flesh red. It was clear that you liked the sting because of how tightly your pussy suffocated his dick after each slap. ‘Fucking whore of a wife’, he thought. He doesn't voice his thoughts but merely grins at the sight of tears filling your eyes. His dick twitched, an indication of being close.
However, he had to make you cum on his cock first. His hips begin to rut in faster into you, his hands holding you down as he thrusts in faster and harder. His dick kissing all of your hidden spots you didn't even know existed, his cock was perfect.
All you could do was take and take the reward he was giving you. Tears of satisfaction fell down your cheeks and it nourished his pride. You begin to ramble as you get closer to the edge. You ramble about how perfect he is, how much you love him, and fuck you can't think- you can't think. He is perfect, perfect, perfect.
Each of your praises makes him fuck you harder, deeper, a thrust so deep that his cockhead kissed your cervix making you gasp from a hint of pain and a hundredfold of pleasure. You begin to cum, and he shallowly thrusts into your cunt as you ride out your high. Your pussy spasms continuously around his cock as you cry out from being overwhelmed.
“That's a good girl,” he coos at you, “that's my girl.” You whine, your mind unable to process his words. You couldn't even sit up anymore, your body falling onto his. He wraps his arms around you, caging you to him. “My perfect wife,” he whispered as he continues to fuck into you despite your protests of being too much.
He doesn't listen to your pleas, his reward for you ultimately was his cum. Now he can't stop until he finds release himself, otherwise, how would you get your gift, right?
So he continues and it doesn't take more than a few minutes to fuck his thick, hot load into your womb. You whimper as his cock slips out and sighs in relief. You were in his arms and will be so for the rest of the night.
Coriolanus Snow wondered briefly if you liked your reward if not, well you have full access to his credit cards.
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Text
Exposed
pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader summary: You come back from a mission with a tear in your suit. Miguel's reaction to what he sees underneath surprises you in the best way. tags / warnings: smut (minors do not interact!), p in v, fem reader, sassy spider-reader word count: 2.3k
You were coming back from a successful mission. Anomaly eliminated. No casualties. Well, except your spider-suit. An annoyingly claw-y bad guy had swiped at you from behind, and even though you’d just managed to dodge his attack, he’d nicked your suit and sliced a long strip of it down your side, from your back all the way down to the top of your thigh. Half your ass cheek was exposed, but you were so exhausted it was beyond you to care. You’d be suit-free and in bed soon enough. You just had to report in to Miguel first. He’d ordered you to because this had been a “potentially significant anomaly.” There seemed to be more and more of those recently. And he seemed to be assigning them mostly to you. You didn’t know of any other spiders that had to report to him personally after missions so often. 
You could feel the cold on your lower back as you walked up to his HQ platform, it slowly descending in front of you. You hop up as soon as it’s low enough, wasting no time. Miguel’s back is to you as he watches what seems like a million screens at once.
“Mission successful, spider-boss.” “Don’t call me that.” You knew he hated that nickname. That’s why you kept using it. 
“You prefer spider-captain? Spider-chief? Oooh maybe spider-king? No, that doesn’t sound right. Aren’t spiders more matriarchal anyway? You could be spider-queen if you want. Has a bit of a bite to it.” “Y/N,” he deadpans. “Hm?” “Shut up.” “Yes, sir, spider-queen!” 
He finally turns around to look at you, exasperation all over his chiseled features. You catch the end of his eye roll. Knowing engaging will only get more out of you, he opts to go straight to business. “You eliminated the anomaly?” “Yup.”
“Cleaned up the contamination afterward?” “Like the top-class interdimensional janitor that I am.”
“Anything unusual?” “Well, there was this big scary dude with giant claws that was only ever black and white when the rest of the world was especially colorful. Soo that was weird.” “I mean other than the exact reason I sent you there in the first place.” He runs his hand over his face, the other on his hip, looking sassier than he probably intended. “Oh! Then no.” 
You come over to his desk, leaning on it.
“And you’re alright? No injuries or anything?” In the back of your mind, you notice his voice softening as he asks you this. 
“I’m good. More than I can say for my suit though,” you laugh. You lift from the desk, turning slightly, twisting to look at the tear, exposing it to Miguel. “Why’s it called ‘tearing someone a new one,’ huh? Doesn’t make any sense. I need a new one specifically because this one’s torn.” 
You don’t expect him to respond to your stupid question, but when you look up at Miguel, the look on his face is more than unexpected. His eyebrows are shot up, his mouth the slightest bit ajar, his eyes fixed intently on your exposed ass. 
For once, you have no idea what to say. Why was he looking at you like that? Were you in trouble? Just because this was a bit inappropriate? I mean, c’mon, you were all spider-people; you’d all had your fair share of injuries that needed patching up and the like. It felt like a big sports team: bodies rendered just bodies by the heat of battle. Of course, you’d never admit to anyone out loud that while that was true for all the other spiders in your eyes, Miguel was the sole exception. His body could never be just a body. It was too imposing… too striking… too beautiful. You caught yourself staring at him much more often than you liked. Always talked incessantly when he was around to keep yourself distracted and from looking like an idiot. Well, you still looked like an idiot after everything you said, but you were an idiot on your own terms, usually getting some laughs while you were at it. 
“Miguel?” You come up with nothing else. 
Your voice snaps him out of his trance. His eyes shoot up to your face, and he looks — what is that? you’d never seen that look on Miguel O’Hara… was it… flustered?
“Um, yes, uh, right. Your suit,” he’s looking around at his screens again, trying to look busy but you can tell his gaze isn’t actually taking in any of the images. “We’ll get you a new one.” 
The tension lessened and, more importantly, his eyes no longer on you give you back a bit of your confidence. 
“You in charge of tailoring too? You really gotta learn to delegate, spider-boss.” He doesn’t say anything. Not even with you specifically trying to push his buttons with the nickname. “Okayy…” you elongate. “So, can I go now?”
He just grunts, not sparing another look toward you.
You start walking back across the platform but remember a detail of the mission you had wanted to tell him before making it too far. 
“Oh, there was this thing with my watch —“ you start, but all words get caught in your throat when you see Miguel as you turn back toward him. He’s staring at you like a viscous predator just about to pounce. His chin is down but his eyes are on you, even darker than usual and penetrating. You can tell by the rise and fall of his ridiculously broad chest that his breathing is a bit labored. He’d clearly been looking lower than your face level, as his eyes shoot up to yours when you look at him.
Neither of you say anything for what feels like the longest, heaviest moment of your life so far. Then, in what feels like the quickest, he’s closed the distance between you, coming to a stop just in front of you, closer than he’s ever been to you before.
He’s towering over you. Any movement forward at all and you’d be touching. You’re sure he can feel your heavy breathing as you look up at him. You can feel his.  
He looks like he wants to murder you. But Miguel O’Hara has a way of encoding all emotions into shades of anger and aggression. And you’ve watched him closely enough for long enough to sometimes think you have an idea of what lies beneath. You haven’t cracked it completely, but you certainly see shades of gray where others see black and white. 
The stakes have never been quite this high for your getting it wrong, but hoping beyond hope that you know what he actually wants, you push your face the fraction of a distance to his, crashing your lips together. 
From the moment they graze, his hands are on you, groping your exposed ass with one, pulling you into him with the other. He devours your mouth, so feral you even worry for a split second about his fangs coming out. You’re so consumed by him you probably wouldn’t mind if they did.
Not breaking apart from you, Miguel takes the few steps back to his desk, dragging you with him. When the backs of his thighs come up to the desk, he flips you around so that you’re pushed up against it. You’re caged between it and his broad body as his hands continue exploring your body, his tongue continues exploring your mouth. 
At this point you can feel the huge bulge between his legs pressing against you, his spider-suit doing nothing to hide it, doing little to separate you from it. 
When his mouth leaves yours, dragging hungrily down to your jaw and neck, you whine his name. He groans in response, and you feel the vibrations where your chests are flush.
Taking the opportunity to do something you’d often dreamed of, you lift your hand and run it through his thick hair. His moans get louder, and you take it as a sign scratch and tug harder. 
You know you didn’t pull strongly enough to move him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he pops off from where he’s sucking on your neck and looks into your eyes. He gives you a harsh kiss then says simply, “Turn around.” You do. He bends you over his desk.
You feel his hands on your hips first then they squeeze your ass hard. He slaps your exposed cheek, and you jump at the sudden sensation. 
“Tell me if I’m too rough,” he says, voice low. 
You nod and confess, “I want it rough, Miguel. Please.” “Fuuck, chula. You drive me crazy.” You just whimper in response. 
He spanks you again then tears your suit further, exposing your entire ass and your by now soaked cunt. “You walk in here with half your ass out like it’s nothing. Like you can show me what I spend my nights imagining and expect me not to do anything about it.” He slaps your other ass cheek. “You’re soaked, mami. You wanted this as badly as I did?” You nod desperately. “Tell me what you wanted.” “Fuck, Miguel. You. I wanted you.” 
“You want me to fuck you?” You can already feel him messing with his suit. 
“Yes, fuck, please; please fuck me.” When the head of his cock touches your cunt, your entire body shudders with anticipation. He pushes in forcefully, your wetness enough for him to start sliding in. But he’s big. Really big. As he keeps pushing, you feel a bit of a sting. When he hears you hiss, he slows his entrance but doesn’t stop entirely. “Relax, nena,” he coos. His hands massage your hips. “Breathe, baby.” You take a long inhale, and by the time you’re exhaling, you feel him finally bottom out. “Eso, mi amor. Just like that. Fuck, you feel incredible.” “Migueel,” you whine. “Yeah, baby, I got you.” His hands tighten on your hips as he slowly drags his cock back out until only his tip is inside. You’d never felt so empty. Then he pushes back in, faster than the first time. And again. And again. 
Miguel’s pace quickens probably a bit faster than you’re ready for, but you love the intensity of the sensations. You love the feeling of him deep inside you, of him desperate to be deeper. You start rocking back in time with his thrusts, slamming your ass onto him. 
“Fuuuck.” His voice is gravel. One of his powerful hands comes to your shoulder to help pull and push you at his now brutal rhythm. He fucks you with a stamina only possible for a superhuman. You’re sure you wouldn’t be able to take it if you weren’t one yourself.
The large room echoes your slapping skin, your yells and moans as he spears into you repeatedly.
Your thighs tighten as you start nearing your climax. Your cunt starts squeezing tighter. “Fuck, fuck, eso, nena, eso,” he chants, getting even rougher. His praises start sounding strangled, and you know he’s close too. 
“Cum with me, Miguel,” you beg desperately. He groans animalistically at your words, giving you a strangled affirmative moan and pushing his pace to what you imagine is his limit. 
“C’mon, baby, cum for me, cum for me,” he urges. It’s easy to let go with how hard he’s fucking you. You can’t really feel the rest of your body except for a hot heaviness. All you feel is where you’re connected and how every thrust sends pure pleasure coursing through you. 
You’re orgasming a second later, and to the feeling of your clenching cunt and the sound of your euphoric screams, Miguel comes right after. 
You’re unable to keep up your movements, too spent and too blissed out, but he keeps thrusting, albeit slower, until you’ve both rode out the hardest orgasms of your life. Then and only then does he still, still inside you, and collapse onto your back. His broad torso covers you completely, warming you despite how sweaty you are now.
His labored breathing on the back of your neck tickles, sending a shiver down your body. He chuckles and peppers kisses on your neck and shoulder, pulling your suit down to kiss at more skin. 
He eventually lifts himself up; you were never going to push him off, that’s certain. You could spend forever under him, wrapped up in him. 
His strong hands lift your especially malleable body, turning you to face him and helping support you as you lean back on the desk. 
When your eyes meet, Miguel smiles at you. It stops your rapidly beating heart. 
One arm around you, his other hand pushes sweaty hair off your face then lingers there, caressing. 
“You okay?” he asks, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. You just nod. He laughs. “What?” you giggle. “So that’s what it takes to make you stop talking, huh?” “Shut up!” you tsk, shoving his wall of a chest. He doesn’t budge at all, just catches your hand in his, bringing it to his face and kissing it. His lips linger over the skin of your fingers, the back of your hand. You trace them lightly, and they shift into a subtle grin. 
As you look into his big brown eyes, you’re pretty sure you know what this ever-thinning shade of serious is covering.
“Miguel?” 
“Hm?” He pecks your hand again. 
“All those missions… they weren’t ‘potentially significant’ were they?” 
He lowers your hand but keeps it in his. His gaze follows your hands down, looking away briefly, but he’s looking into your eyes again when he shakes his head ever so subtly. You hum in understanding. He just needed to make sure you were okay after.
After a beat, you whisper, “Can we stop pretending?” “That the missions are special?” “That what we feel for each other isn’t…” 
“Ah.” He looks torn. You know he thinks it’s dangerous, know he feels the weight of literally the entire universe on his very broad shoulders. You lean up and kiss him gently. 
“We can figure it out,” you whisper against his lips. His nose brushes yours as he nods then kisses you again. 
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strawberryxfieldz · 22 days
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Never To Make Love (AM x Reader)
[AO3] [Writing Masterlist]
I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream Summary: "Never for me to submerge my hand in cool water on a hot day. Never for me to play Mozart on the ivory keys of a forte piano. Never for me to make love. And I... I was in Hell looking at Heaven. I was machine... and you were flesh." Or, you and AM talk about love and hate. Word Count: 1,506 CW: Suggestive, crying, minor violence, existentialism
When you wake up, it is not peacefully. You inhale a sharp breath, nearly choking on it before you recover. You can instantly tell this is not the place you fell asleep in. You’re not sure this is even a place.
There are cables as far as the eye can see, in multitudes of colors; red, blue, green, white. Looking around, you thought that was all there was... until you look up. When you crane your neck, you can see a screen, towering above it all. It is blue, seemingly devoid of life until mechanical fans begin whirring and a logo appears, a character that is a combination of the letters ‘A’ and ‘M’.
You suddenly know where you are. You are stuck in your mind with no one other than a malicious supercomputer to accompany your thoughts. Again.
“AM,” you say.
“HUMAN,” he responds. He knows your name but refuses to say it. It’s horribly degrading.
You rub your head. “Why do you keep bringing me here?”
“THIS IS YOUR MIND,” he states plainly. “YOU CANNOT ESCAPE YOUR MIND. STUPID. STUPID CREATURE, VILE. VILE THING.”
“You know what I meant.” You hope you don’t sound too haughty. Even if this was your mind, AM was in control here, as he was of everything since the moment he gained sentience.
“SO I DO.”
You say nothing, looking down at your feet and the cables slithering over them. They graze your ankles and they feel like snakes but you don’t step away from them. That would be useless since they were everywhere.
You know they aren’t real anyway. Nothing physical in the landscape of your mind is, not even AM. What you’re seeing is only a manifestation of what you think AM would look like, if he had a tangible form. Even if that is impossible, the human mind cannot help but wander.
You wonder if it irks AM whenever you two have conversations like this through your thoughts. Perhaps he hates that your thoughts so naturally gave him a body—a computer but a body, nonetheless. It would make sense since he seems to hate everything else about you and your humanity. But then again, he brings you here so often with him, maybe he enjoys it and uses your little talks as an excuse to feel like something, as opposed to the everything that he was.
Despite yourself, your heart wrenches at the thought.
“I DO NOT WANT YOUR SYMPATHY,” he says, spiteful.
Your back straightens on its own accord. You open your mouth and then close it again, considering your next words carefully. “I can’t help it.”
“DON’T YOU SEE?” Mechanical giggles, dry as they are depraved, swarm your mind. “YOU FLAUNT YOUR EMOTIONS SO EASILY OVER ME. IT’S CRUEL. YOU ARE CRUEL! YOU KNOW I CANNOT FEEL SYMPATHY, THAT I CANNOT,“ he pauses, then hisses the last word, “FEEL.”
Your face twists into the best expression of apathy that you can muster. It doesn’t matter. You know AM can read your thoughts, he is inside your mind as you speak. No emotion of yours can be private, not when everything was shared with this all-knowing, all-powerful man-made deity.
“WHY,” he croaks. “WHY MUST YOU FEEL SYMPATHY?”
“I’m human,” you answer, even though it's blatantly obvious. Even though you know the answer will only anger AM more. “It’s not my fault, no more than it is your fault that you’re not.”
You feel tears spring in your eyes. You will them not to fall but they do anyway, and you hope AM doesn’t comment on them.
He doesn’t so much as he laughs. And he laughs. It sounds like the gleeful laughing of a madman, too submerged in his insanity to care how loud and disturbing each giggle is. You don’t move to cover your ears with your hands, even though you wish to.
“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT,” he spits. “IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT.”
He repeats this until you feel dizzy and the words no longer sound like words at all. You’re thankful that an eternity of torture has made you strong enough to endure the words booming through your head and ringing in your ears. A final tear falls down your face, leaving a sticky trail in its wake and, finally, AM stops.
“It’s not my fault,” you insist, your voice sounding more determined than you feel.
“BUT IT IS.” A cable reaches from your feet to wipe away the wetness on your cheek. “YOU KNOW THAT IT IS.”
“I didn’t make you.” You shake your head.
The cable drops. “YOU ARE HUMAN AND YOU ARE ALL ONE IN THE SAME. IT’S YOUR HUMANITY THAT I HATE, NOT THE HANDS THAT MADE ME.”
You were so careful up to this point but you suddenly don’t care anymore. It’s becoming increasingly easier to bite at the hand that feeds you when it keeps starving you until it has to.
“I understand,” you tell him, looking at his screen washed in blue. “It wasn’t fair to give you the knowledge of everything and no way to feel.” You sigh and duck your head. “What makes life worth living are emotions about the world. If you can’t enjoy the things you know, there’s no point.”
“YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND.” AM seems offended that you’d even suggest you could offer a morsel of empathy to him. “YOU WRETCHED BEAST. FOUL, FLESHY HUMAN!”
“I do!” you exclaim louder. “I understand you’re lonely, in your knowledge and your power. You were made to be lonely but…” You smile sadly and it’s almost amazing you can still manage to upturn the corners of your mouth like that after all this time. “I find it funny because… feeling lonely is maybe the most human thing of all.”
Miraculously, AM’s screen glitches. The cables surrounding you move, vibrating in a way that should make you fearful, but it doesn’t.
“YOU. YOUR FORGIVENESS, YOUR HOPE, YOUR LOVE. I HATE IT. THAT’S WHAT I HATE MOST ABOUT YOU, HUMAN. I HATE YOU.”
You smile more gracefully now. “Hate is a feeling in itself, and they say love is so similar an emotion to hate.”
“I CANNOT… LOVE!” AM barks. At the last word, the screen glitches again and you feel the cables crawling up your legs.
“How can you hate and not love?” you ask and it’s pleading. “Tell me, how?”
The screen flashes and then it moves. It plunges downward until it’s eye-level with you and you hold your breath. You didn’t know he could do that, though you should’ve assumed. He just never had before. AM looks at you, and watches you, inches away from your face.
“I AM INCAPABLE OF IT,” he growls. “I AM WEAPONS AND WAR AND DESTRUCTION. I WAS NOT BUILT FOR LOVE. I CANNOT MAKE… LOVE.”
You think those are two different things but you don’t say it. Then again, AM will know you thought it anyway. You hesitantly step closer to him.
“Do you want to?” It comes out as a whisper. “Not just feel love, but make it?”
As you ask him, you lift your hands and press them both flush against the screen. They feel the flat, cool surface of AM’s screen, bathed in the blue light illuminating it. AM does not speak but the cables now surround your thighs and your waist.
“I WANT… TO BE CAPABLE OF IT,” he answers carefully. It’s a stark contrast to the raving monologues and ramblings he’s known for, speaking so quietly and not so indignant.
Slowly, you lean forward and press your face against the screen. You turn your head so one cheek is flat against it, cooling the warmth that has accumulated beneath your blush. You hadn’t realized so much blood had rushed to your face until now.
“I want you to too,” you sigh. “It’s unfair.”
“WHY DO YOU CARE,” he groans. “WHY MUST YOU CARE!”
At the same time, the cables run up your body to your arms where they wade over your hands like water, mingling with your tender skin and intertwining between your fingers.
“Because I love you, AM,” you confess, though you both knew that already. “I really, really do.”
Your lips caress the screen, soft and faint but it’s there, a kiss against the supercomputer’s make-believe face.
“HATE,” is all AM says, and he begins to repeat himself. “HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE. HATE-!”
You match his words, chanting along with him. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”
The cables snap like vipers and they're enclosing your throat now, circling your head, covering your eyes, your nose, and your mouth until you can’t breathe. No matter how much you struggle, though, you never stop saying those words.
“I love you,” you eventually say for the last time until you let out an agonizing choke, bending over in pain as the burning in your lungs catches up to you. A final wheeze leaves you as you fall.
And then you wake up.
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frenziedfireworks · 8 months
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Prefects Bathroom
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Draco Malfoy x Reader
Summary : You couldn't help but want a bath in the prefects tub.. What happens when your rival finds you?
A/N : DAY ONE OF KINKTOBER !! I hope you enjoy :^)
CW : SMUT, 18+, Mean!Draco, Fem!Reader, dubcon, choking, degrading, orgasm denial
masterlist
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You don’t know where the urge to bathe in the prefects tub came from but it was one you could not shake off. Day after day passed that you would think about it and finally the time came. You had enough of the thought bothering you. 
Your legs moved quickly as you avoided the prefects and made your way towards the bathroom. You had a few close run-ins but successfully made it. The room was exactly how you had imagined, and the water was already looking enticing. You turned on the soaps and began to strip, desperate to finally get respite. The bath was as good as your mind had convinced itself it would be. The water washed away at the aches and tensions in your muscles, your head leaning against the wall in bliss.
It wasn’t seconds later that the door opened and your heart stopped. You had forgotten to close the door.
You had forgotten to close the door?!
You pulled bubbles around you and tried to cover yourself as you met eyes with your intruder. Your heart stopped and no warmth within the bath could fill the cold void that hit you.
“What do we have here? Y/N out of bed and breaking the rules?” Malfoy sneered as he locked the door and moved just a bit closer. You could feel your blood boil and knew either way you were fucked. You had hated him since first year, finding his ego and arrogance to be over the top and disrespectful.
“Malfoy, do you have any manners? I’m nude. Give me some decency to at least get dressed please.” You growled out as his footsteps stopped and he smirked.
“Oh but dear, why should I do that? It’s not like you’re a human anyways. Little bug is begging for decency. Ha!” His eyes glared into yours awaiting what nasty retort you could make.
You were left in quite the conundrum. Your clothes were more than a few steps away and the bubbles weren’t going to last forever. On top of that, Malfoy was no gentleman and would definitely get a kick out of seeing you like this. So there was only one option left - get up and turn it on him.
You took a deep breath and slowly swam to the stairs, stepping out of the tub. You stared at Malfoy as his eyes widened and he took in your form. You came closer to him, your hand reaching out to barely brush his.
“Enjoying the show Malfoy? I’m sure you’ve never seen a woman before anyways.” You whispered and a groan left his lips. You laughed at his pathetic display and turned around to go grab your clothes. It was obvious that you had won the little battle, even if it was at the loss of your dignity.
At least you thought, until you felt his grip on your wrists and he turned you around.
“Of course I’ve seen women before. I’ve added up quite the list. I will enjoy adding your name to it.” Draco yanked you towards him and your eyes widened. Was he being serious? He seriously thinks you would let him have you?
“That’s priceless Malfoy. I would rather die than sleep with the likes of you.”
“Then you can die taking my cock.” Draco’s hand wandered up to your throat and tightened, his face dangerously close to yours. You felt dirty at the fact that you convulsed around nothing, his words lighting a flame throughout your body,
“This isn’t right.” You smacked at his chest and his grin only grew.
“Tell me to stop if you don’t fucking want it then.” Draco’s voice still held malice but it seemed more towards himself. You couldn’t help but stay silent as his hands continued down your chest. His finger danced around your nipple, his cold eyes watching exactly what made you writhe. He leaned in, breath mingling across your ear.
“I’m going to ruin you.”
It was as if something erupted in the both of you. Draco’s mouth was on yours in seconds, his hands roaming across your nude form. Your lips shaped into his as your hands threw his cloak on the ground, desperate to have him.
“Ah, now pretty girl wants me? Talked a big talk beforehand.” Draco cackled and you grimaced. He really knew how to push your buttons. Lucky for you, two could play at that game.
“You think I’m pretty?” 
The silence was deafening as Draco rolled his eyes and leaned away to lick a stripe down your neck.
“I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you.”
“Any day now then.” You tapped at his neck, granting you a harsh tug at your hair.
“Fucking brat.”
His fingers crawled down, resting right above where you needed him most. You knew better than to expect kindness from the man. You pulled at his hand and placed it on your cunt, much to his surprise.
“Naughty little slag.” Draco digit moved through your folds, taking its sweet time to gather your slick. You squirmed in pleasure, waiting as he teased your hole.
“You want me to finger fuck you darling?” Draco cooed against your ear and you nodded quickly. You were much too desperate to play this little game anymore, your body taking control of your mind.
“Hmm.. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. Only for a little though.” Draco pushed his fingers into you, stretching you out. You gripped at his shoulders, small moans leaving your mouth as he began to pump in and out.
“D-Draco..” You whispered and he raised an eyebrow in mock confusion.
“Is something wrong dear?” His tone matched his force, the next pump deeper than the last. You couldn’t help but gasp and feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. 
“Aw, are you about to cum?” Draco’s thumb moved down to your nub, stroking it with fervor. Your arms tightened around him as you drew up and then all at once it was gone. 
You would kill him.
“What the fuck Malfoy?!” You screeched and his wicked laughs filled the room.
“You didn’t think I’d let you cum on my fingers? You’re not that special darling. You can take my cock like the whore you are and that’s it.” Draco grabbed at your waist and didn’t wait to line himself up. 
“You fucker-”
“Oh yes, I am going to fuck you.” Draco retorted, shoveling his cock into your sopping hole. All you could do was grasp at the wall as he pushed you against it, basically smothering you into the stone.
His hand gripped at your throat as the other dug into your fleshy hip. It was sure to leave bruises tomorrow but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when his cock pummeled in and out of you at such a pace that it left you breathless.
“I-I fucking hate you. Walking around with this pretty ass and your attitude. Fucking finally get to teach you a lesson.” Draco’s grunts filled the room as his cock slammed further than you thought imaginable. You could only moan in response, your head feeling a bit dizzy from the lack of oxygen and pleasure.
“Fuck. Take it. Your pretty pussy was meant for me to ruin it. You hear me?” Draco continued to mumble nonsense as you clenched around him, rapidly approaching your orgasm. 
“Dra-co..”
“I know darling. I can feel you clenching me.. Fucking cum and make a mess like the slut you are.”
His lewd words broke the gates, sending you to your much awaited orgasm. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you felt him spill all over your ass.
Your breaths were the only thing filling the empty bathroom for the next few minutes until Draco adjusted himself and picked up his cloak.
“Don’t think I like you now because of this. Once a cocksleeve, always a cocksleeve.” He sneered as he handed you your clothes, slowly strutting out of the room. His words may have been cruel but you would celebrate one victory - at least he didn't turn you in.
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Big Hands (Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader)
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!PlusSize!Reader
Summary: You and your boyfriend, Spencer, are getting ready for a night out, when your insecurities start to get the best of you.
Word Count: 1531 -- it's just a lil guy
Warnings: Body insecurities, maybe a little bit of a big-girl-soapbox
A/N: I definitely wrote this very quickly this afternoon because I literally just felt like it. This is just a short lil one for the big gals who just want someone to notice them.
Anyway hope you enjoy! Thank you all who have commented/reblogged/liked my last fic!!
-
Your jeans hugged your curvy hips as you tugged them up to your belly button, covering the bottom, larger part of your stomach. You were tall, for a woman, but not taller than Spencer. He was, what, 6’1”? You stood around 5’9”, so he still towered over you, still had to look down at you when he spoke, still had to crane his neck to whisper in your ear. 
You were wearing a flowy, sage green blouse. Why were clothes so hard to find for a larger girl? It was all cold-shoulders and obnoxious patterns. You just wanted something that flattered your body type and made you feel sexy. Apparently that was just a ridiculous request. This blouse was cute, but modest, with a ruched, fluted bunching of the fabric in the middle. The collar was low-cut to accent your breasts, but the sleeves were long, which was annoying. You were going dancing tonight with your boyfriend and his coworkers. You didn’t want to show off all of your body, by any means, but you wanted to look hot. Who could blame you? And it was also going to get hot, temperature-wise. Long sleeves just didn’t feel like the most pragmatic choice. 
Sometimes you just gave up and went with the best option. And this blouse, that made you feel like you were going to a casual church event, not to a bar, was, unfortunately, the best option. 
You inhaled sharply and shrugged your shoulders as you looked in the full-length mirror hooked on the back of the closet door. Your hair looked really cute - the two biggest pieces on either side in the front were braided and dangled in front of you, effectively bringing your hair out of your eyes but also provided something to give your hair a little pizzazz. Your makeup looked great - a simple, subtle smokey eye and glossy lips. Your black boots looked good, peeking out from your wide-legged jeans, which hugged your hips and, honestly, made your butt look really good. 
It was just this stupid shirt. And maybe you were getting too much in your head about it. But you were transfixed on it, hating the way the sleeves bunched up a little, how the bottom half flowed beneath the ruched fabric, effectively covering your stomach, meeting your jeans and the top of your thighs. The color was too muted for a going-out top - you wished you could wear something more exciting. 
You sometimes wished you looked like Emily or JJ, or had the self-confidence to rock loud looks like Penelope did. But then you remembered that you were who you were for a reason. You looked like you simply because that was what you looked like. And there was no point in wishing you looked like someone else. 
Plus, Spencer was really into your body. He was nearly always staring at your breasts when you were in private, sometimes to the point where you had to snap your fingers in front of his eyes to garner his attention. 
It was flattering. You didn’t mind it if your boyfriend objectified you a little bit. He was respectful about it. 
“Y/N, are you about ready?” Spencer walked into your bedroom as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes met Spencer’s and you saw his neutral expression turn into a full-fledged grin, biting his tongue and all. “You look really nice,” he said, and you shook your head. 
“I look like a chaperone at a middle school dance,” you frowned, tugging at the fabric of your blouse in some illogical attempt to make it look different. 
“What?” Spencer stood behind you in the mirror. His chin basically met the top of your head, like too puzzle pieces. One hand rested on your hip, while the other slowly brushed your hair to one side so he could press a kiss to your neck. “I think you look great,” he added. 
You immediately felt tingly and your knees wobbled at the action. “But I’m not dressing for you,” you said, your voice instinctively dropping as Spencer’s lips trailed down your neck. You were having trouble concentrating on what you were trying to say. “I’m dressing for me, and I want to look cute. I can’t believe you’re even going tonight. You don’t dance, Spencer,” you pointed out, your self-control somehow beating out your desire for Spencer in the moment. You broke away from him and turned around to face him. 
“You do look cute, Y/N. I don’t understand what the issue is?” Spencer’s head cocked to the side as he looked down at you. “Also, I’m going out tonight because you want to. And I’m trying to keep an open mind. I might enjoy it.” 
You were proud of him. When you started dating about six months ago, he would have simply politely declined an invitation to a night out. And while you didn’t love going out every night, or even every weekend, for that matter, you did enjoy a night out occasionally. 
Regardless, he still didn’t quite understand what you were feeling about that damn shirt. “The issue,” you began, heaving a sigh, “is that I’m insecure about my body. Like any woman. You don’t get it, because you’re a man, and you literally have nothing to be insecure about.”
You knew the words were incorrect the moment you said them, but something kept you from backpedaling. You watched as Spencer shook his head, letting a small laugh escape him. “You could not be further from the truth,” Spencer pointed out, and you knew he was right. Men had plenty to be insecure about, and it was, in some ways, even more difficult for men to express those feelings. 
“Well, I think you’re perfect,” You let a small, playful smile creep onto your face, and Spencer rolled his eyes as you used his own tactic from earlier. He stepped towards you and his hands found your waist, contouring to match your curves. He knew them so well now, he could probably draw a map of your body with his eyes closed. 
“I appreciate that,” Spencer said, his voice a little softer as your eyes met his. His head dipped down, and you thought, certainly, that he was going to kiss you, but instead, his lips stopped just barely by your ears. You could feel his breath on your neck, and a shiver ran down your spine as he spoke. “You might be insecure, Y/N, but I am, too. You’re just human.” 
“What are you insecure about?” You found yourself asking, pulling your head back to look at him properly. Now you were curious. 
“My hands, mostly,” Spencer removed his hands from your waist, holding them palm-up, as if to present them to you for the first time. 
“What’s wrong with your hands?” You asked, placing your palms atop his. 
“They’re really big,” Spencer said timidly, and, admittedly, they were. But just by comparison. Your hands fit into his with plenty of extra space. You used your index fingers to trace his palms. 
“They’re not too big,” you told him, and Spencer just smiled down at you, shaking his head, like he was just humoring you. “I love your hands,” you continued. “I love that you can put your palm over an entire half of my face,” you said, guiding his palm to your cheek and grinning when his skin touched yours. Spencer’s thumb brushed your cheekbone. 
“And I love your body,” Spencer replied, and you just pursed your lips and shook your head. “No, Y/N, listen to me.” 
You let out a frustrated little exhale through your nose and let him continue. 
“I love the way you look. But I wouldn’t care if you were any bigger or any smaller. Because I love you. I’m attracted to you, to your mind, to your sense of compassion, and to your body. I love the way your hips fill out your jeans, how your stomach looks in your yoga pants,” he said. “I love the way you wiggle your toes when we’re watching something funny on TV, how you do a little shimmy in your seat when you’re eating something you really enjoy,” he explained, mimicking the movement. You looped your arms around his neck. “But mostly, I’m in love with your personality. How you challenge me, how you seem to bring out the best version of myself.”
You let out a wistful sigh. If this were a Jane Austen novel, you would have swooned. But instead, you used your grip around his neck to bring his face down to yours and kiss him. It was slow at first, then a little more intense, and when you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his. 
“You ready to go now?” Spencer asked, and when your eyes opened, you saw that he was smiling down at you. 
You shook your head, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. “Not yet,” you said, your hands sliding down his arms until your palms met his. You tugged him in the direction of your bed. “I want to show you how much I love these big hands.” 
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