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xrollingmyeyesx · 1 year

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Innocence Part 1

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Metkayina Reader. Reader is 19, Neteyam is 23.

Summary: As the youngest daughter of Olo’eyktan Tonowari you live a very sheltered life. When the Sullys arrive on Awa’atlu a certain son guides you to escape the bounds you’ve been kept in. But is everything as it seems?

Warnings: mature themes, suggestive language, heavy petting but doesn't go all the way, thigh riding???

word count: 6,993

Notes: This started out as fluff but...Stuff happened. Also, this is the first time I've ever tried writing, so pls point out any errors I need to fix. This might be too long? I didn't know how much was too much. Might write a part 2.

Part Two

As the youngest daughter of Olo’eyktan Tonowari, you have always been sheltered.

At first because you were the youngest, but then your partners began to notice how sensitive and vulnerable you were. You didn’t seem to have the same aggressiveness that most Metkayina were born with; You were soft where they were hard.

Your passiveness and trusting nature often got you hurt, sometimes physically and emotionally. You trusted other kids who would trick you into doing dangerous activities with the promise of being your friend. As you aged, other teens would befriend you to get to your more popular siblings, and your parents worried others would take advantage of you to gain favor with the chief.

So they protected you.

They did as much as they could to shelter you from the world, keeping you under close watch in the village. You were constantly watched and forced to have a chaperone, usually one of your siblings. As such, you were forced to spend most of your time with your family. They didn't let you leave the village unless it was to visit the Cove of the Ancestors or for clan ceremonies. You didn't go out and make friends, and you definitely weren't going on any dates. Your father and brother had all but banned any suitors from coming anywhere near you.

You thought you would be free after your iknimaya, after finally proving yourself as an adult. You were a woman now and you had hoped your parents would loosen their hold on you. Of course, Olo’eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal did not agree.

Overtime, sheltered away from the rest of the clan, you became lonely, You yearned for freedom from your caring but overbearing family.

You were lying on the beach daydreaming when the Sully family arrived.

The sound of the conch horn boomed across the island of Awa’atlu. You followed your sister, Tsireya, to the northern beach. The two of you took your place beside your family, your mother and father at the head. A small crowd had gathered.

“Uturu has been asked.”

The voice came from an Omatikayan woman holding the hand of a small girl. There were six of them, a family with four children.

They looked very different from you, and you eyed them curiously. They were darker than you, their skin a deep blue that resembled the night sky. Their tails were skinny with tufts of hair at the ends, and their eyes were a startling gold.

As usual, you became distracted easily, taking in every little detail about the foreigners in front of you. Your fathers voice faded into the background. It was hard to focus on him with the strange, piercing eyes of the oldest son focused directly on you.

He looked to be the oldest of the siblings, and he held himself with a strong air of confidence. He was tall, taller than his father even, and strong, with broad shoulders that narrowed into a muscled chest and a slim waist. He was lithe like one of your clans dancers, but had the confidence of a trained warrior. He had long hair braided back and a riding mask sat on his forehead.

He looked straight at you, as if he felt the same pull that had you wanting to reach out and touch him. It would be completely inappropriate to do that, but your fingers twitched at the urge.

The Omatikayan boy smiled at you, dipping his head forward slightly in acknowledgement. Your skin flushed.

Your brother, Aonung, huffed under his breath and stepped in front of you, blocking the other man's view.

He was such an ass sometimes, and way too protective. What could the other man possibly do to hurt you here, in the middle of your family and surrounded by your clan?

You pinched Aonung in the side, and he hissed at you sharply, smacking your hand away before he turned back to your father.

“My children, Aonung and Tsireya, will teach your children the way.” Your father announced. He then addressed the clan with an air of finality. “You will treat Toruk Makto and his family as your brothers and sisters. Teach them the way, so they do not suffer the shame of being useless.”

The man, Jake Sully, thanked your father before Tsireya ushered them away to their new home. You watched, enamored, as the son packed up his stuff and followed after his family, shooting you a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Y/n.”

You turned to your dad, hope bubbling inside you. “Dad? Do I get to help teach too?”

Tonowari gave you a hard but wary look. “No, these people are strangers and I do not trust them yet. I do not want you anywhere near those boys Y/n. Go home, I’m sure your mother could use your help.”

And just like that, your hope was crushed.

You rolled your eyes as you turned your back on him, your ears pinned back in irritation. You loved your dad, but sometimes he spoke to you like you were a soldier, like you were meant to do exactly as he said and never disobey. But that's exactly what you did, wasn't it? He and your mother told you what to do with your life, and you followed because it was what you had been doing for 21 years. You were so tired of everyone trying to “protect you” and telling you what to do. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. But your dad would hear none of it.

“Yes, father.” You stomped home, pouting like the child they accused you of being.

You didn’t see the Sully kids again for a while.

They were busy with training and you were doing your best to obey your father and stay away. You avoided them at all costs and tried to ignore their presence, but the strange family had piqued your curiosity. You found yourself watching them from afar, especially the eldest son, Neteyam.

Tsireya would come home at the end of the day and tell you stories about her training with them. She tended to talk more about Lo’ak, but you devoured every bit of information you could get about his brother.

She told you that Neteyam was a warrior and a good hunter. She said he was protective of his sisters, and had an adorable relationship with the youngest, Tuktirey.

From the stories she told you, he sounded like a good person. A noble, caring man. It made no sense to you why your father was so adamant that you stay away from him.

A few weeks later, you sit on the beach with your mother as she discusses your healing lessons. You weave ropes of netting absentmindedly, humming under your breath and paying her little attention. You are the youngest in your family, the least likely to have any kind of leadership role, but still she insists on teaching you everything a Tsahik would need to know.

“Tsahik.” A harried voice calls from further down the beach. A man runs towards the pair of you, his chest heaving with effort. “Atexo has been injured in the hunt.”

Your mother straightens, eyeing the blood smeared on the man's shoulder. “Badly?”

He nods his head vigorously. “Very badly. He got caught in a swarm of hakora.”

Your mother sighs, glancing at you contemplatively. You are supposed to stay with her today, but you know she is hesitant to involve you when there are severe wounds. She thinks you are too delicate to handle such a violent scene.

She gives you a hard stare. “You will stay here, ma’ite. I will be back quickly.”

Surprise blossoms in your chest, and you do your best to keep it from showing on your face. She may not want you to see severe wounds or injuries, but she likes leaving you unchaperoned even less. But you won’t question her choice, not when it's the first bit of freedom you’ve had in a long time.

“I will be here.” You smile softly at your mother, and her eyes soften. Brushing sand off her legs, she follows the man towards the healing tents.

You’re not sure how long she’ll be gone, so you give up on weaving and sunbathe instead. You lay outstretched, your hands buried in the sand at your side. It’s warm, and you wiggling your fingers as you bask in the soft rays of the sun.

You sing to yourself as well, the soft melody of an old lullaby falling easily from your mouth. You’re about halfway through the song when a sense of awareness washes over you, your skin prickling in the warm sun. Your mother has returned much quicker than you anticipated.

“You sound amazing.” A deep, baritone voice says softly.

That is definitely not your mother.

You sit up quickly, fumbling as you attempt to turn and back away from the strange voice all in one go. You are in full defensive mode, reaching for the knife at your side, but relax when you see Neteyam.

He stands a few feet away, keen eyes taking you in. It’s in that moment that you realize that, for the first time in your life, you are alone with a man who is not family. You have no chaperone.

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people.” Your voice is soft, and he tilts his head as if he can’t hear you.

Neteyam had seen you that first day on Awa’atlu and instantly thought you were beautiful. Your hair was long, almost to your waist, and curly, so different from his own. He had liked the way your eyes wandered over him. More than that, he liked the pretty blush that decorated your cheeks when he caught you. He had no intention of pursuing you when your father had so clearly declared you as off limits, but goading from his brother and a few other guys had encouraged him to seek you out.

After that first day, Neteyam had watched you as discreetly as he could. You never seemed to be alone, always with your mom or dad or a trusted healer. He was curious about the hidden Metkayina princess. It only piqued his curiosity more when he realized you had been watching him too. He had felt eyes on him more than once, and each time he would see you quickly dart out of sight.

“Y/n, right?” He steps closer to you, and you instinctively take a step back. “Please, sit. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Well. You glance back towards the healing tents, but there's no sign that your mother will be returning any soon. You sigh and sit back down in the warm sand. Neteyam follows, though he sits much closer than he needs to.

You fiddle with a shell in the sand, not quite knowing what to say. You feel nervous this close to him. You feel his eyes on you, those big yellow orbs watching you. The silence is incredibly awkward, and you have no idea what to say to him. He’s practically a stranger, and you don’t really hang around anyone but your family and their trusted friends.

“I am Neteyam.” He offers, giving you a small smile.

You turn your head to face him, and again are startled by those eyes. So strange, but kind of… nice? “I know.”

Neteyam grins, his sharp teeth bared at you like he thinks you said something funny. “I never see you around, and you don’t train with your brother and sister.”

He phrases it as a statement, but really he wants to know why you avoid his family. The pretty girl, who he’s been watching for the last 2 weeks, refuses to even acknowledge the Sullys. You even go as far as avoiding them at meal time.

“My parents want me to stay away from you,” You mumble. “My father thinks you will get me into trouble.”

He raises his eyebrows at you, and the surprised look on his face makes you wonder if you were supposed to say that or if it was some kind of secret.

“Get you in trouble? Why would I do that?” Neteyam tilts his head.

“Well, I'm not sure actually, but Aonung and Tsireya say you will ‘corrupt me.’” You don’t know what the phrase means, but it sounded bad. Aonung had drilled into your head that the Sully boys were nothing but trouble and would only put you in danger. He said they were violent and had become too used to war.

The laugh that spills out of Neteyam’s mouth startles you, and you peer at him, your face scrunched up. So far he doesn’t seem so bad, but he is very confusing.

Ah so this is what it’s about, Neteyam thinks to himself. You look at him with those big, innocent eyes, clearly not understanding the lewd undertones of the statement. He had originally thought you were shy, but from talking to you it seems as if you’re just very sheltered.

He leans into your space, his woodsy scent invading your senses. You inhale sharply, and let the scent settle in your lungs. You should back away, shouldn’t be so close to an unfamiliar man, but you can’t. He smells good, really good, and your heart beats frantically in your chest.

“And how will I corrupt you, Y/n?” His mouth quirks up, almost as if he knows something you don’t. Why was it that everyone seems to know more than you? He’s joking, clearly, but you have no idea what about. It always seems like you're one-step behind everyone else.

It’s hard to think with his eyes on you, and you can’t help the blush that spreads across your face. “I- I’m not sure.”

You go back to avoiding his eyes, fidgeting with your hands. You can feel the warmth from where his leg is almost touching yours, and fight the sudden urge to press your skin against his. Despite your shyness, he continues.

“I should tell you, I really came over here to see if you wanted to hangout? You seem lonely and I would love the company.” He taps your leg to get your attention, his hand warm against your skin. “Do you want to come with me? We could go out to one of the islands.”

You immediately want to say no, to tell him that you’re not allowed to leave the island without one of your family members, but a new thought crosses your mind.

Neteyam doesn’t know your parents' rules. He doesn’t know you aren't supposed to leave the village. You’ve always wanted to be able to explore on your own, and even more you want to keep talking to the handsome guy next to you.

Going with him is the perfect opportunity to get away, even if you might get into trouble later. You may never get this chance again, not with how strict your parents are, so you nod in agreement.

“Yes, please. I would like that.” Your heart races at the prospect of leaving, but it’s dampened a bit by guilt.

You know that lying and tricking him is wrong but your desire to get away is stronger. You’d always wanted to escape from your overbearing family but you’d be lying if you said that was the only reason you wanted to go.

Neteyam… everything about him calls to you. His smell, his smile. Maybe he was just charming and was always this kind to strangers, but something made you want to latch onto him and never let go. It helps that he seems pleased that you agreed to go.

Neteyam, always the gentleman, offers you his hand. “Come on.”

You hesitate for a second but then slide your hand into his much bigger hand. You expect him to let go after you’re standing, but he keeps hold of your hand as you walk towards the waiting ilu.

BREAK

You know how to ride an ilu, of course. Every Metkayina child learns to ride, but Neteyam still insists you sit in front of him “just in case.” You remember what your sister said about how he’s protective of his siblings. He’s protective in nature, so it makes sense for him to be protective of you too.

And Neteyam really does want to keep you safe, but he definitely has ulterior motives. Ever since he saw you laid out in the sun, he couldn’t get the images of you out of his head. You had looked ethereal then, splayed out in the sun like a tempting meal. You were curvy in all the right places. Muscular like all the Metkayina, but smaller than most too.

As the two of you glide through the water, Neteyam’s focus begins to shift from steering the ilu. He tries to pay attention but he’s hyper aware of all the places where your skin is touching his, particularly where his hand rests on the curve of your waist.

You’re so much smaller than him, and his one hand wraps nearly halfway around your waist. His mind wanders to other ways in which your size difference might matter, much more tempting ways, but quickly shakes his head to get rid of the totally inappropriate thoughts.

“Have you been out here before?” You turn your head to look back at him but freeze when you realize just how close he is.

He’s only inches away, his breath warm against your face and suddenly you can’t breathe. You don’t know what you’re waiting for, for him to say something maybe, but his eyes aren’t on yours anymore. Strangely, he’s focused on your lips.

His eyes darted between your mouth and your eyes, and your brow furrows in confusion. Neteyam was acting very strange.

When he finally breaks the tense silence, his voice is but a whisper. “Y/n? Have you been courted by anyone yet?”

You reel back in surprise. You have no idea what you expected him to say, but that was not it. “Um…No. My parents haven’t approved of anyone, and they say that I’m still too young anyways.”

You know courting is when two people wish to be mated, but you’re not entirely sure of all the details. Every time you ask your mom she brushes it off and says you don’t need to know yet. It’s frustrating, being so ignorant of such natural things, but you trust your mom would tell you if it’s really necessary.

His forehead scrunches, his eyes squinted in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense, Y/n. How old are you?”

“I’m 19 seasons, why?”

He purses his lips. “I was just wondering.”

Neteyam’s thoughts are confirmed. You're 19 years old, a mature adult, and yet your parents have convinced you that you’re not at the age to be courted. He’d known you were sheltered when you didn’t understand the innuendo he made earlier, but he hadn’t realized how far your innocence went.

While he doesn’t think your parent’s should keep you in the dark, a part of him is pleased to know that you're untouched. Never been kissed. And now he has the chance to be your first.

The rest of the ride is spent in comfortable silence. You enjoy it more than you probably should but the feel of him behind you is nice. His warmth sinking into your skin is comforting in the best way. When you finally get to the island, you slide off the back of the ilu and let him lead you to shore.

“Tsireya showed us this place a few days after we got here. She said it was the best place to watch the sunset,” He informs you.

The island is familiar, but so different at the same time. It has a similar landscape, but there are some plants and animals that you don’t normally see on the mainland. The brush here is much more vibrant and the air feels less tamed.

“It’s amazing,” You gasp, taking in the view, a little in awe.

A shadow passes overhead and you tilt your face up to gaze at the swarm of fkio. The pack of bright purple birds squawk at you, their four wings fluttering gracefully. One of the younger ones swoops low to circle over your head, and you lift your hand up towards the creature, laughing. It dances over your head a couple more times before flying up to meet its mother.

You spin around to watch it fly away, only to find Neteyam staring at you with a small smile. You instantly feel self-conscious under his eyes and your laughter dies down.

“What are you staring at Neteyam?”

“I’m just enjoying the view, Y/n.”

You blush at the flirtatious lilt of his words. You turn your back to him as you walk, hiding from his gaze, but he catches up quickly. “Yes, it is nice out here.” He falls into step next to you. “Much quieter than in the village.”

He glances down at you as you reach out to brush the petals of a flower. “I’d be happy to bring you out here again.”

You immediately feel bad again for not telling him that he’d probably get in trouble for being here. You try to mask the guilt as you shoot him an appreciative look. “I would love that.”

The two of you continue to walk around the island, venturing between the warm sand and the canopy of mangrove trees. He challenges you to a race and the two of you chase fan lizards as they spin in the air. After losing two rounds of that game, you dare him to race you in the water. Of course, you are much more used to the water and beat him several times. Hours pass but neither of you notice the passing time as you explore together.

He tells you stories of his little brother, Lo’ak, who constantly gets him in trouble. He talks about his sisters too, his voice full of adoration. He even tells you that he considers Tuk to be one of his best friends.

In return, you tell him about your family. How you're the youngest and how you’ve always looked up to Tsireya and Anoung. You tell him how you were always closest to your sister and that she does your most days. You even tell him about your iknimaya and how you were terrified of the skimwig on your first try and immediately fell off. You love hearing his laugh as you recount the scary tale.

“Don't laugh at me! Those things are huge.” He only laughs harder, boasting how it was so easy for him.

“I conquered the skimwig on my first try!”

You shove at his shoulder as he teases you, and he splashes water at you in return.

Then you tell him about your spirit sister, Rayol, and your adventures with her. He seems to like the story about your first meeting and how Rayol saved you from a hungry akula fish.

You sit him down to show him your iknimaya gifts, proudly showing off your tattoo. Soft waves brush your legs as you sit in the shallow water.

“This is my marking.”

You stretch your leg out in front of you as you point to the black ink adorning the side of your thigh. The black curls over from the back of your thigh to the front in an elaborate design.

When he first reaches his hand out to trace the lines, you pull away. But you decide that, since you've spent hours together getting comfortable in each other's presence, letting him touch your marks can’t possibly cause any harm.

His fingers brush over the lines softly, a light caress on your skin. Your eyes close as you relax into the feeling. He traces the line that dips into your inner thigh, your skin heating under his touch, and your breaths come out a little harder. You try to keep still but a strange feeling settles low in your stomach.

Neteyam watches your face, far more interested in your reaction than the actual art. He takes in the way you start to breathe harder and how your hands clench in the sand. You’re so sensitive to his touch. Just a few soft caresses, not even anywhere indecent, and you’re practically putty in his hands.

You open your eyes at the loss of heat from his hand, the ghost of his touch fading. The day had been so fun, so carefree, up until this point. Tension builds between you and Neteyam, and you wonder how he must see you.

He must think you're weird, reacting to his touch like that. You’ve never spent time around any unmated guys in the clan, let alone spent time with them alone. The strange urge to curl into Neteyam’s side and inhale his comforting sweet was all new to you. All strange, but exhilarating too.

You breathe out softly, your skin flushing as he watches you. “I also got my clothing piece. For my iknimaya, I mean.”

You cross your legs, hoping to appease the warmth that’s been growing steadily in your belly. Odd.

He leans back on his hands, his lithe body splayed out in the shallow area where you’re resting. He nods, gesturing for you to continue, and doesn’t take his eyes off you for a single second. You have his undivided attention.

“My mom and sister made it,” You point to the small white beads that hang below your chest. “They sewed pearls into the strands so that it would sparkle. I like the color of the cords most, the oranges and brown remind me of sunset.”

You point out each piece to him, explaining the significance of the type of pearl and the painted beads. You get so involved in telling him all the little stories that go with each other, you don’t even notice him moving closer. Much closer. You nearly headbutt him when you finally look up from your chest piece.

He’s so close you can see the small white freckles painted across his cheeks

Much like earlier, your breath catches in your throat. His eyes are hooded and narrowed on you, as if stalking his prey. You wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. His eyes roam your body, drinking you in. You aren’t sure what caught his attention or caused him to react like this. Maybe he was just really interested in your clothing?

“Neteyam?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

He reaches out to you, his nimble fingers brushing against the beads that hang off your chest piece. His hand grazes the skin there and you shiver against the feel of a calloused hand.

His eyes flit up to yours, and a cocky grin spreads across his face. He slides his hand up one of the braided cords of your top, just barely ghosting a touch over the peak of your breast as he goes.

You inhale sharply, frozen. The Navi were not modest people, not in the slightest, but it was one thing to be looked at and another to be touched. And no one had ever touched you in this way.

In his head, Neteyam wages war with himself. If this small touch could affect you so much, he couldn’t begin to imagine how you’d react to more. He wants to touch you more and in so many different ways. He wants to taste you, to feel you against his tongue. He wants to know if you’ll taste as good as you smell. He wants to hear your moans, to hear his name on your lips. He wants so much.

But he has to wait. Has to go slow.

You're innocent, in the most tempting of ways. So sweet, and so trusting of a man you’ve only known for a few weeks, and only spoken to once. He’s got to take his time with you. He’s got to teach you because it’s clear you have no idea what a courtship or a mating entails, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

And to add on to all of that, you are his new Olo’eyktan’s precious, guarded daughter.

He really should stay away.

But the more he thinks about it, the more your innocence makes him want you more. You respond so nicely to his advances, and he’s seen you lean in to scent him more than once today. He’s also noticed the way you shift in your spot when he touches you. It kills him to know that your body wants him back, but you have no idea what any of it means.

“Neteyam?” You ask again, leaning over to tap his arm. The movement pushes your breasts up and out, and you pull back in embarrassment when his eyes dip lower.

“It's a pretty piece,” His voice is rough, scratchier than before. “For a pretty girl.”

A warm flush spreads from your cheeks, and warmth floods your body again, an ache blossoming under your skin. The way he looked at you was doing strange things to you, making you buzz with anticipation.

“Irayo, Neteyam.” You slide your hand into his. He engulfs yours entirely, his palm slightly rough but his grip gentle. “And thank you for bringing me out here. I don't get to leave the village very often.” Or ever.

Nausea curls in your stomach. Lying is wrong. Very wrong.

Little did you know, Neteyam was very aware of what he was getting into. When Lo’ak had goaded him into talking to you as some kind of joke, he had no idea he would become so infatuated.

“Anytime, Y/n.” His finger gently caresses your hand. “I actually picked this spot because your sister said it was a good place to see the stars.”

You stiffen. “You talked to my sister?”

Of course he had, she was training him. A voice in the back of your head warned you he might just be using you to get to her. It’s not a stretch. She’s the tskarem, the future Tsahik, and others have tried to use you to get to her before.

“No, but she told Lo’ak and he told me.”

“Oh.” Right. His brother told him. No need to be jealous of your sister.

He chuckles, and you look away in embarrassment. How stupid of you to be jealous over a guy you just met.

A warm palm snakes around the back of your head, and Neteyam turns your face toward him. Once again, you take notice of how much taller he is than you. You barely come to his shoulder, having to turn your head up to face him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He coos as the heat of his palm seeps into your skin. His hand is big enough that his thumb brushes over the junction of your chin and neck, and the skin there prickles.

“Nothing.” You blurt. You breathe in softly. “Just happy to be here with you.”

He grins, those sharpened fangs glinting in the darkened night. “Come on.”

He drags you towards the beach again and pulls you to lay with him in the sand. Then, Neteyam points to the stars and names them for you, telling stories about his father and how he came from the bright orb in the sky. It’s so strange to you, so alien, that there’s a whole world out there that you’ve never known.

You stay like that for a while, laying nesting to each other. The sand is cooler now that the sun has set, and a cool breeze grazes your skin. The wind picks up, ruffling the leaves of nearby brush, and you wrap your arms around your torso to fend off the cold.

“Hey.” You twist your head to the side to see Neteyam watching you, his hand outstretched. “We’ll be warmer closer together.”

The temptation of warmth is too hard to ignore, so you maneuver your way closer until you’re pressed against his side. He wraps his arm around your back, your head nestling into the crook of his arm. His skin is hot, nearly burning.

“You were right, this is warmer.” You sigh contentedly, gazing up at the twinkling stars.

Neteyam passes his hand over your side soothingly, leaving goosebumps along your exposed skin. His heart beats quickly under your head, and you sigh at the comforting rhythm.

On the next pass of his hand along your waist, the tips of his fingers brush the cord of your skirt. You stutter, stumbling over the story you’ve been telling. How can you possibly focus with him touching you like this? It’s nothing but a friendly touch, but… everything about him screams more. Intimate. His hand rests there against your hip, its warmth laying heavy against your skin.

You do your best to sound normal as you recount the childhood story to him. It’s a simple tale about two friends and how they came to live amongst the stars, but the story becomes harder to tell as you become more aware of the man next to you.

You continued to stutter over the story, but your stomach kept clenching with this unknown need. You were beginning to think you were sick or something. And when his fingers dip towards your navel, you forget about the story completely.

“Y/n, why’d you stop?” He asks cheekily. Goosebumps rise along your skin as he strokes the skin just above your skirt.

An uncomfortable tension had been growing under your skin all day, but in this moment it all seems to come to ahead. Something is wrong. Very wrong. The tingling against your skin and the tightness in your chest are new. But you know that something is very wrong because there is something decidedly wet between your legs.

“Neteyam? I don’t think I feel very good.” You admit breathily, leaning a bit back from him. You’re sick. That must be it.

“What is wrong?” Neteyam watches you, those keen eyes drinking you in. Maybe… maybe he’ll know what's wrong and help you?

“I-I don’t know. I feel weird. I think I’m sick.”

“Weird how?”

You grab the wrist of the hand lying against your stomach, holding him still. “Here. It is like….Like when you are hungry but do not have food,” You paused to think. “But I am not hungry. And…” Should you tell him? You’ve never talked about anything down there with anyone except your mother.

He sits up, leaning his broad form over you. “And?”

“And I feel,” It feels shameful to speak about. “It feels wet, or something. Down there.”

Neteyam laughs, and you frown. You’re sick and he thinks it's funny? You never should have told him.

“Don’t laugh at me!” You huff, glaring up at him. “I am sick or something. I need to see a healer.”

“Oh, pretty girl.” He moves quickly, adjusting himself so he’s above you completely. His broad form blocks out the moon and the stars above, demanding all your attention. He cages you in, his arms on either side of your head and his legs bracing yours. “You do not need a healer, Y/n.”

He rests his weight on one arm and palms your cheek. Instinctively, you lean into it.

“I don’t understand. What are you doing?” The question is like a whisper in the wind, floating between you.

“You’re not sick.” He smiles kindly. “This feeling, down here,” He moves the hand from your face and presses gently onto the area below your navel. “It’s your body telling you that you have found a potential mate.”

You reel at this new information. How could you not know this? How come nobody has told you? And did this mean Neteyam was a potential mate? You have so many questions and so few answers.

“Why does it hurt?” If this is supposed to be a good thing, a signal that he would make a good mate, then why is it so uncomfortable?

Neteyam grins, leaning down to nuzzle your cheek. He lowers his body to rest his weight over you fully, pressing his body right up against yours. He eases one of his legs in between your thighs and settles.

“I can help you, Y/n. Make it less painful.” He kisses your cheek softly, and you nod. He’s been so kind and you can't help feeling safe with him. You want him to help relieve the ache, no matter how he does it.

“Say please.” He reprimands sternly.

“W-what?”

He smirks down at you. “Be nice and say please,” He kisses the tip of your nose. “And I’ll make it feel better.”

You don’t want to be rude, especially not when he’s helping you.

“Please Neteyam.” The plea is more of a whine than anything else.

He presses his thigh up against your center, the cloth of your skirt the only thing between your skin and his. You moan softly at the foreign pressure, pressing your hips down to meet him. It feels….Good. You roll your hips, searching to replicate the sharp spike of pleasure it elicits. You clutch at his arms, closing your eyes as you revel in the new sensation.

“I’m going to kiss you, okay, pretty girl?” The only sound you make in response is a soft whimper, nodding your head again.

He kisses you softly at first and then harder, slotting his mouth against yours and drowning out your gasps. He laps at your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours expertly. Neteyam’s hand cups the spot where your neck meets your jaw, holding you still as he devours you.

You wrap your arms around him, latching onto him hungrily. You had no idea kissing could be like this. Could be so all consuming. Neteyam was all but claiming you with his mouth, declaring to you that you were his and his alone. You would never want another after him.

You writhed against him, circling your hips as you sought an ending to the aching throb in your clit. Neteyam slides his hand to your hip and guides you, taking control of your frenzied movements. You give in to him easily, allowing him to mold your body against him and melting in his hands.

He kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You moan out, gasping for air. He bites down softly, sharp canines digging into your skin.

You gasp out his name. “Neteyam—“

You’re cut off by the sound of a conch horn nearby. It shrills loudly through the night sky and you freeze all movement. It sounds again, this time closer, and icy fear runs down your spine.

“No, no, no!” You push at his chest hard, and the man rolls to the side immediately.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? What are those horns?”

You sit up off the ground, eyes wide in fear. You huff for breath, pushing up from the sand.

“They sound those horns when someone is missing,” Your voice wobbles as tears well in your eyes.

While you knew you would be in trouble for leaving, you hadn’t really thought about it. Going with Neteyam had been spur of the moment and you had just pushed the consequences aside. And now? Now you would actually have to face those consequences.

There was a moment of silence.

“They are searching for you.” Neteyam says, realization dawning. “I didn’t realize they would send people out if you left.”

“My parents are going to kill me.” Your hands start to shake. You were gone all day. Mom and Dad were going to kill you. The tears start to flow harder as you realize the extent of the trouble Neteyam will be in as well.

“I am so sorry, Neteyam. Please, do not be mad at me.”

He grabs your shaking hands, pulling you into his chest. “Hey, I could never be mad at you.”

Your voice cracks. “My parents never let me leave the village, it is their biggest rule. They keep me with a chaperone all the time.” You take a deep breath. “I cannot handle being locked away in that village until the day I die. So, when you offered to bring me here today, I didn’t mention that it could get you in a lot of trouble. I am so, so sorry.”

He softens and pulls you into a tight hug. “Do not cry. I knew that you were a bit sheltered. I would have done anything to spend the day with you, pretty girl.”

You hiccup. “You are not mad at me?”

“Of course not!” You relax into his hold, leaning your head against his shoulder.

Another horn sounds.

The two of you sit there silently for a moment before he leans away. “We have to go back. I will explain and tell them that I insisted on bringing you here.” He says surely.

He would sacrifice himself, face your father’s wrath, just to protect you from punishment? The gesture is so sweet you can't help but kiss him again. No one had ever done anything like that for you.

He kisses your forehead and takes your hand. “Come, we will ride the ilu back.”

You let him drag you to the ilu, all the way dreading the coming punishment. There is no way you are going to let him take the fall for this.

Your parents are going to be furious that you left the village. They are going to be even more angry when they find out who you were with. And if they find out what the two of you did while you were alone on the island…..

You don’t want to think about it. Instead, you focus on holding your breath as you ride towards the island, ready to face the wrath of the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik.

Part 2

#avatar #avatar: the way of water #neteyam fic #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #avatar neteyam #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #atwow #thigh riding #smut #innocent!reader

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strawbsj · 2 months

Note

G!p rich mean girls ssamkura x loner femreader?

Fate!

Warning: NON CON , DUB CON, tit job, blow job, p in v, cum eating, unprotected sex (don’t be silly wrap your Willy), threesome, big dicks, not proofread, reader gets called bunny, manhandling, sub reader, and SMUT!!!

The richest girls with the dirtiest reputation and meanest attitude, the famous duo Sakura and Chaewon.

Their parents are best friends and the owners of the biggest companies in the country, they opened their eyes while being best friends. They did everything together and shared the same environment and interests growing up.

They are spoiled, no like horribly spoiled. Dad I want a new car this week, yes honey! Mom I want the newest Guccis spring collection, of course baby! Uncle, I want real tigers leather jacket, oh my god, you don’t have it yet? Everyday they wore their expensive designer clothing, or their disgustingly expensive real leather or fur jackets.

One of their favorite little game to play is ruin, yeah ruin anything. But favorite thing to ruin are people. They fucked everyone in their class in a record of one month. Everyone fell for their spell immediately.

So when you came to their class, a new beautiful face, so perfect,so delicate, gorgeous curves and begging to be ruined. Their cocks immediately reacted.

Their plan A was easy and simple, act nice, get close to you, earn your trust and boom fuck you in any available room. They tried to lure you into their spell, but no. You were resisting and literally ignoring them, how dare you?!?

What was wrong with you?? Simply you just didn’t like people, people always called you a loner. And well they aren’t wrong you saw yourself as a loner too. You noticed how they tried to get close to you, but you kept the interactions limited.

Their plan B was, welll…. A little more complicated but wouldn’t take much time. They knew your parents were out of town for the whole week, so they will follow you home and just fuck you there.

The school day was finally over and you were peacefully walking home, listening to music. Your usual, which made them roll their eyes. Instead of their company, you chose music. You were too occupied in your music and out of this reality that you had no clue that they were following you.

Soon you found yourself in front of your door, twisting the lock and stepping inside. When you turned and were about to close the door you saw two familiar faces.

“Wha-“ you couldn’t even finish what you were saying, their hand on top of your mouth muffling whatever you were going and will say.

“Surprised bunny?” Sakura asked with a grin, the pet name made your insides flood with disgust and confusion.

With fast movements, Chaewon locked the door and headed upstairs with Sakura along with you, acting like it’s their house. You were trying to squirm away and free yourself but sakuras grip was strong and beside they could easily dominate you, their stamina and strength is out of your league.

Your rooms door was open so they easily knew it was yours. Sakura gave you to Chaewon, Sakura locked the door of your room and Chaewon threw you easily on the bed. Chaewon was caressing your hair, Sakura was rubbing her thumb on your cheek.

“Don’t be scared bunny! We are going to be quick!” Chae gave a pout, while Kkura only nodded at her words with the same pout.

You felt your eyes stinging in pain, no no you can’t cry! You’d seem weak! You told yourself, the last thing you wanted to appear as, is weak.

Kkura was quick to rip your button up shirt, the buttons flying across the room, landing on your floor. Chae left warm open mouth kisses all over your chest before swirling her wet muscle on your clothes nipple, an unwanted moan fell from your lips and you were quick to put a hand over your mouth.

“No no bun, we want to hear how much you enjoy this.” Sakura grasped your hand before pinning it to your sides, before going back to leaving kisses all over your stomach. Going down to your lower stomach then near the hem of your pants, she unbuttoned the two buttons of your pants and discarded them to the floor.

She saw the wet patch on your panties that you tried to cover. “Bunny we knew you were enjoying this.” They looked at each other before glancing down at you, seeing your disgusted face.

Chaewon switched places with Sakura, now meeting your core and Kkura giving attention to your now unclothed soft mounds. Fiddling and licking them. Chae gripped the sides of your panties and slid them down to your ankles, the cold air met your leaking pussy, a breathy hiss came out of your lips.

Chaewon chuckled and stood to unbuckle her pants and free her now red cock, Sakura followed her and did the same. They gave a loud groan of relief, and stroked their leaking cocks few times.

When you saw their lengths, your eyes widened. Both of them were above average, way above average. They gave each other a smirk and a nod of understanding.

Both immediately headed to your bed, you laid there limp, knowing there isn’t much to do and decided to accept your fate.

The placement flabbergasted you, Sakura was basically sitting on your face her cock waiting to be in your mouth and Chaewons red tip rested at your entrance.

They gave each other an approving look, before kkuras thick length choked you and chaes long base went deeep inside you. They let out a loud moan of satisfaction and relief. Before dipping their cock again in your holes.

Chaewon couldn’t contain herself and started ramming her veiny length in and out of you, Sakuras cock was abusing the back of your throat, making you feel that your throat is burning.

The way chaes tip was hitting all the best spots made your head hazy and dizzy. Your moans were muffled by kkuras cock inside your mouth and your nose on her pelvis, saliva was dripping down your chin. Your wetness formed a ring at chaes base, which made her let out a loud sigh for.

Their actions became desperate and quicker, searching for their own high. Chaes lengths movements were animalistic, using all her hip strength to her and your pleasure. The lack of oxygen due to kkura sitting on top of you and the way her tip went deeper and deeper down your throat, you started thrusting your hip back into chaes and your mouth now met kkuras thrust made the know in your stomach snap. Your juices running down your legs while your gummy walls were clenching tightly at chaes cock, which made her seed shoot deep into you. A high pitched moan from you and a deep earthy groan from her.

Kkura continued the abuse of her cock in their mouth, you hollowed your cheek slightly and soon hot ropes of her cum filled your mouth. “Be a good bunny and swallow.” She ordered with a husky voice and you immediately obeyed, earning a sweet peck on your lips.

Chae pulled out, both her and your fluids dripping out of your hole. She leveled her face with your hole And licked all of the liquid. Slurping it like a hungry woman. Kkura slid next to you, exhausted and rubbed your breast softly. Not long after Chae slid to your other side rubbing your belly comfortingly, only to see more release gush from your hole.

At the end you don’t really think your fate was that bad.😮‍💨😉

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nmjoo-n · 2 years

Text

SUGAR MOON 🥐 kim taehyung.

pair. art student! taehyung x fem! reader | genre. paris in the 50’s, arranged marriage, angst, romance, smut | warnings. profanity, smoking, possessiveness, pet names, jealousy, unprotected intercourse, oral sex, masturbation, fingering, age gap, breeding kink, virgin mc | word count. 7.1k

synopsis. “tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?” or kim taehyung won’t let anyone else have you. you’ve been promised to him, after all.

A small life, a small happiness.

These were the things that had been promised to you by your parents, Taehyung didn’t doubt it one fucking bit. Nothing had been shown to you, nothing he could use, nothing to stimulate that pretty little mind of yours. You were a blank canvas.

Someone he could taint. His womanizer ways had done their rounds across Paris, but no one ever actually thought there would come a time where Kim Taehyung, successor of the Kim’s and their jewelry empire, a business booming since the early 20’s, would settle down. They were wrong, of course.

Taehyung wasn’t planning on getting married and staying married, especially to such an inexperienced girl such as yourself, fresh out of her private academy, and working under her daddy as a typist, a receptionist. At least not at first. Not until he met with you in person.

Then, he couldn’t wait. After that first meeting, witnessing your shaking hands and soft voice as you greeted him—you had his cock leaking in seconds. No other woman had elicited such a reaction out of him, none that mattered. None he could remember the name of. So, naturally, he was attracted. Challenged. Interested.

It was a brief brunch, and an extremely pretentious one. Taehyung’s fingers had been itching for a cigarette the entire time, as your mother went on and on about your excellent grades and general impression. His father, an always serious man, all about his money and good name, had managed to snick cognac in his coffee without anyone noticing—anyone except you.

Taehyung’s eyes had caught your amused ones, as you rose a satin gloved hand to your red lips, pressing two digits against that beautiful mouth to keep you from laughing. He fell back on his chair then, manspreading even further, playing with the serviette in his hand, watching you closely.

You hadn’t touched your food. Out of nervousness, perhaps. He liked his women to eat, to indulge themselves in whatever pleases them most. You’d learn that. What else, then… your pinned hair, perfectly styled to fit the shape of your face, your cute nose, and rosy cheeks. The modest neckline of your dress. Hiding just enough, leaving the rest up to the imagination. Carefully chosen he concludes. By the mother. For this engagement.

What a fucking joke. He hated pretending the most. He was an artist; a free mind, someone that couldn’t be caged, someone that did not do well in circumstances as preposterous as these, so staged, so rehearsed, so—fake. If he had it his way, and his father knows this the best, he’d take you away from this table, away from all this boring talk between parents, a bidding war he’s afraid, for what price you’d be sold to him for. Well, that can’t have you feeling comfortable, and no one would want his fiancée to be dreading her own wedding day, would they?

He’s doing it for your future, he reasons.

“Excuse us, esteemed relatives,” he cuts his mother off, and stands up, mischievous gaze piercing through you. “We have greater matters to attend, don’t we sweetheart?”

You blushed immediately under the attention, clearly never having gone against anything in your life. A rule player, staying inside the box. Taehyung wanted to cut that box open, tear through it like a Christmas present, and pick you up, play with you for hours, steal that virginity, that innocence away.

It was at that first meeting, that he took you to his favorite bakery, bought you pain au chocolat, and watched you eat as he smoked, hot chocolate staining your top lip a delicious dark color. Taehyung chuckled at your child like reaction upon noticing your new bittersweet mustache, and decided he’d kiss you that day. Not then, you’d probably run off on him if he’d done it then.

“Have you no decency to tell me of my state?” You smack him playfully on the arm, and his smirk only deepens.

“And miss that adorable look on your face? Not a chance, sweetheart.”

Later. At his house, maybe, after he’s certain of your hold on him, and wants to explore it more. Explore you more. The fabric of your dress was hugging your waist exquisitely, dangerously, those heels doing nothing for you next to him. Eight years of a difference, yet he’s known of you for so long. Has seen you from afar, a mere girl with pigtails, no one he’d pay any mind to, just a shadowy figure in the background of his life, but always the promise hung; the promise between your families, the inevitable elopement.

But you were a tough woman, weren’t you? You made him fight for you. There had been a shy goodbye and then your back, walking away from him in a hurry, afraid to stick around for any more that you’d already have. That had been for the better, Taehyung mused to himself over another of many, many a cigarette. Tobacco had been a friend of his since the young age of seventeen, a way to fit in with the other teenagers and their self destructing tendencies. He had those too, he convinced himself. He had those too, but he also had his pencils and papers.

Taehyung had his art, and his music, and he was never alone. He’d witnessed no death, no poverty, no war, and so for that reason he was an insufferable dreamer, a delicate person. But he tried to see those things, tried to be a part of it all, to help, or to imitate—naturally, those people had taken and taken and taken from him, had used him for his warmth, his money, and reassured future, as they had to, at some point, unfortunately return back to their tiny, freezing apartments to starve and work minimum wage industrial jobs as he remained free to parade around Paris, wearing his expensive tailored suits and leather boots, studying art, not a care in the fucking world.

He was aware of this, too. It made no difference. He came from a family of immigrants, people who put in a great deal of effort to their endeavors. His father alongside his uncle had opened their first jewelry shop in 1922, amidst terrible, dark times, catering exclusively to the rich folk of Paris, investing every last penny they had to them, until the favor was returned. Now, boutiques across France, across Europe. Thirty-four years later.

All the whorehouses in Paris could not have prepared him for what he was about find out. For he’s never been truly jealous of anyone, has had no insecurities, no doubt of who he was. Taehyung was wanted by both men and women, divulged in sexual acts with all who interested him, never particularly caring for gender or class. People were all the same to him—everyone had a price, a reason. But not you, not to him. The more he was away from you, the stronger his feelings grew.

You had a little boyfriend; he learns from the driver he had ordered to follow you around. Someone insignificant, an electrician—so it was honest work you were looking for. A small life, a small happiness. Oh, to see your parents’ faces when they found out about this; how their words had backfired. Kim Taehyung came second to no one, and especially not a country boy trying to make it in the big, scary world. He had his ways of getting exactly what he wanted. That is to say, he hired a friend of his fathers to scare him off, to warn him against you. And if that didn’t work, if there was love involved—well, he couldn’t have that, could he?

You were promised to him first. He wouldn’t let anyone else have you. Especially that tight cunt, those cherry red lips. It went without fucking saying—he had to see you again. Unsupervised. Preferably, naked, underneath him.

So, he goes to your house. Picks up a few pebbles and tries for several windows, cigarette in mouth, dark brown curls falling over his eyes. You’re bound to answer to one. He persists, until he sees light coming from the last window at the corner of the stone building, a familiar shadow through the curtains.

Taehyung waits. It’s well past midnight, and you look terrified, but so, so beautiful. Fuckable, in your pink robe and loose hair. He wants to climb up the wall and fuck you right there, against that very window. He wonders if you’d let him, if you’d let go for him.

“My goodness, what are you doing here, Taehyung?” A protective hand over your chest, you look down at him perplexed, but—excited.

He takes the cig out his mouth, flicks the ashes off. “I can’t stop thinking about you, darling.”

He sees your eyes widen, those kissable lips part in an inaudible gasp. He smiles fondly, the thought of you half asleep, still warm from dreams, stirring because of him and his uncontrollable desires—oh, he’d marry you right then if he could. Such were his feelings for you.

“But you can’t be here! My parents—wait, are you drunk?”

Oops. He stumbled forward, discarding his suit jacket, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt up to his forearms, stick between his lopsided lips.

“Guilty as charged, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the night. “I’m coming up.”

“Good lord, you’re not.”

“I am.”

A pause, as he begins his ascend up the front wall of your house. “You are a lunatic, Kim Taehyung. Absolutely.”

For you, perhaps. He’s climbed before, countless times actually, all involving rebellion and illegal activities, but no matter. This time he’s climbing for love, for a chance to get to know the real you, not the timid girl you are during the day, but the hidden side, the moon of you. He’d get it out of you, he’s good at that. And when he does, Taehyung will have his way with you. His cock stirs in the mere thought of it.

You make way for him to jump inside your bedroom, still shaken from the fact he can even do something like that. To see you. You must be dreaming. But no, that can’t be, because there he stands, in all his handsomeness, smelling of cigarettes and expensive cologne, curls bouncing with his every move. And he’s moving towards you.

“How is my favorite girl doing?”

Taehyung sees the flush on your bare neck, rising higher. He sees your hands coming together in front of you, as you instinctively step back from him, a prey in front of a hunter.

“This is inappropriate,” you mutter to yourself, blinking fast.

His lips curve slightly. “Yet, you let me in.”

Your eyes snap back at his. “I had no choice!”

He ignores this, instead familiarizes himself with your bedroom, the pastel colors, the minimal furniture, the piles of books. Your hairbrush, your mirror. Things you’ve used, things that smell like you. You were killing him, playing with the heartstrings of his goddamn heart. How can a girl so perfect as you, his promised fiancée, have someone else? Be touched by another man, loved by another man?

Jealousy has never felt uglier inside him.

“Tell me, sweetheart, what will your boyfriend say about me being here in the middle of the night?”

Your hip hits the corner of your desk, and you hiss quietly. You’re shocked by his words, and he doesn’t fault you. How could he know, after all. Right?

“Who told you this?” You question, and he grabs the end of your robe’s belt, feeling the lace of it.

“Confidential,” he replies simply. “You should know now, darling, I don’t share well. The woman that I’ll love will be my woman only.”

“Is that right?” You test him, he can see. A look of defiance so different from the submissive girl he met at that restaurant all those weeks ago.

He hums, enjoying your little power play. “That is exactly right, pretty thing. Care to elaborate on this secret of yours?” He kisses two fingers, places them on top of the place where his heart rests. “I promise it will stay with me.”

You don’t look convinced. You squirm and touch your hair. Another habit. You’re transparent to him, so easy to read, to decipher. Honest. Your ways do not betray you. To have someone to trust… it was incredibly valuable to Taehyung. Unheard of in the circles he ran, the family he was raised in. A salvation, then. You came to him as a small bird—what if he taught you how to fly?

“You don’t want to see me angry, sweetheart. Use your words,” he threatened, leaning against your closet, all the way on the other side of your bed, unmade and slept in.

In the dim light of your nightstand lamp, you looked dreamt up. Like a wet dream designed by his subconscious to haunt him, a personal Hell. To look but not to touch. Forbidden fruit, and everyone knows the story…

“I met him a year ago. He came for a routine check up on the power lines,” you started to explain, not moving an inch, afraid that if you did Taehyung would move as well. “I… He was kind to me. I’ve been seeing him secretly ever since.”

“Has he touched you?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a simple question, darling, isn’t it? Has.he.touched.you?”

You huffed an incredulous laugh, as if offended. You answer anyway. “We’ve only kissed, not that it’s any of your business.”

Taehyung nods his head slowly, pointing at the pack he took out of his trousers’ pocket. “May I?” But he doesn’t wait. Lighter on the edge of the cigarette, he inhales the smoke deeply, blowing it towards the ceiling, pondering over the information in his head.

“Kindness,” he says. “Is a tricky thing, isn’t it? Makes you feel guilty if you don’t give it back, if you don’t return it.”

Closing the distance between your bodies, he sees you cowering in the corner, but those eyes are anything but scared. You have a bite, it’s in there. Taehyung wonders how he can bring it out, test it.

“He loves me,” you retort, and you’re trying to sound convincing.

The question is to whom?

“Sweetheart, I do not doubt for one fucking minute that a man could have a pretty little thing like you and not be completely enamored. Only a fool would waste the opportunity.” You stay quiet, watching him stop by the foot of your bed, nothing but a mere two steps separating you now.

“Maybe he does, chances are he doesn’t. It matters little to me,” he pins you down with a strict look. “You’re to stop seeing him. I’m not a charitable person—you belong to me now. Am I making myself clear?”

The mask crumbles, the wounded girl appears. Tears glisten in the faint warm glow of the room, and Taehyung finds himself wanting to wipe them away, make them disappear. He didn’t mean to hurt you, to make you cry. He’s drunk, and he’s jealous, and he’s falling in love.

He’s the bird in the cage, flapping its wings, terrified, starved of genuine affection. His deflecting can only camouflage this truth for so long. It will shoot out like a slap in the face to render him speechless, and it will be soon. But for right now, as he stands in front of you, all he wants is to taste those lips, to try molding them into his own.

“You are cruel, Kim Taehyung. Marrying you would be a tragedy and a punishment,” you mutter, fighting back sobs, chin quivering.

He smiles, but it’s all teeth, he’s a wolf, and it’s fake, it’s forced, and his hands are shoved deep in his pockets, fingers clenching into fists, cigarette butt bitten into to keep from lashing out. Not going after the engagement earlier had been a tragedy, having to deal with the aftermath of not trying to get to know his own fiancée the punishment. But you had been young, and he had been too preoccupied with easy pussy and pretentious art to care. Now you hate him, and it feels unfair.

“What if I told you this person was only after your money, darling? Would that make you see?”

“Lies.”

Taehyung exhales through his nose, nostrils flaring. “I don’t lie, sweetheart, if there’s one thing to know about me it’s this. I have proof. He’s been stealing from this family and has been feeding you fairytales.”

You attack then, heading straight for his face. He grabs both your wrists, and immobilizes you instantly, spitting the cigarette out in fear of burning you. You stare at each other for what feels like ages, both panting, neither backing down.

“You’re trying to poison me,” you spit at him, pure hatred spread across your beautiful face. “Lock me up.”

He softens immediately, blinking down at you, snapping out of it. “I fed you hot chocolate, ordered flowers to your house every single day since I met you,” he whispers, trying to make you see reason. “I’ve known you since you were playing hide and seek with my younger sister, a girl no older than nine years of age—I’ve never had a reason to lie to you, to trick you. All I’m doing is trying to protect you. Neither of us had any control over our relationship, (Y/N), and I am truly sorry for that. Be it as it may, I now have a responsibility to you, to keep you out of harm’s way, to be truthful.”

Tears roll down your cheeks, and you look so confused, so fucking split into what you want to believe and what is real, that Taehyung can only pull you into his arms, let you come to terms with the fact. You don’t fight, you don’t even say anything, you just sob into his shirt quietly, overtaken by heartbreak. He sits you both down on the bed, and you fall into his lap—so easily, like you’ve done this a thousand times. His thoughts drift further, and he chastises himself; you’re in a vulnerable position, it’s late. He should leave you alone.

For the life of him, he can’t find the will to do it.

“What I said still stands,” he mumbles into your hair. “I will not apologize for the way I am. For as long as you’re mine, no one else will have you. I will kill anyone who dares to attempt messing with you.”

You sniffle and sigh, tear-stained bloodshot eyes looking back at him. “I had no idea you were like this.”

One side of his mouth curves slightly, hands coming to push hair back from your face. “You’ll get used to me. Give it some time.”

Your gaze moves across his features, studying him. A breath away. If he leaned in just a bit, he could take your mouth in his, devour you whole. He almost does. The hope that you might want anything to do with him is holding him back from doing so.

“Okay,” you say, and he exhales.

“What?”

“Okay,” you repeat, fingers coming to wipe at the wetness on your cheeks. “I’ll give you a chance. Please don’t make me regret it.”

His body physically aches from the effort he puts not to pounce on your right then and there, so instead he settles for a kiss on the forehead, short and painful. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, begs for you to stop wiggling on him.

“I fucking swear, darling. I’ll be good to you.”

He’s never promised anything to any woman before. He finds himself wanting to keep good on his words this time.

It’s exactly two weeks after his little break and entering fiasco that the preparations for the engagement party begin.

Your mother seemed to know Taehyung had spent majority of that night with you, if he were to judge by her inquisitive looks and overall effort to never leave her daughter unattended around him. That was well enough—he was a creative and innovative man, he always seemed to find a way around rules and indiscreet eyes.

He takes you to a movie screening one afternoon, and stares at your animated expressions the entire time. He smokes twice as much to resist the urge of putting his hands on you. He desperately wants to; he craves having you in his arms again, yearns for that sweet scent, those soft thighs rubbing against his erection, your breasts against his firm chest. Taehyung dreams of you often, dreams of those untouched folds he’s never seen, never tasted—he’s a savage diving headfirst into them, licking every last drop of your wetness, inhaling the smell of your virgin cunt, and imagines your desire to be touched by a man, him, your soon to be husband.

He comes into his hand every morning, wishing his palm was you around his raw cock, allowing him to invade you, to ravage you. He weaves his time, reassuring himself—all in good time. He’ll have you for eternity soon, and no forever will be enough for all he’s planned on doing with you.

“Tell me, sweetheart, do you drink?”

You look at him, eyelashes flattering innocently. “No, not really,” you confess, and you appear so cute to him, then, that he must make a move, it cannot be helped.

Taehyung kisses your temple affectionately, stopping you both in your tracks in the bustling streets of the 7th Arrondissement. You lean in for just a moment, overtaken, and he considers it a triumph, a step towards the right direction. He’ll spend the rest of his life proving himself to you, if that’s what it takes, just so he can kiss you like this.

“We can’t have that, can we?” He rhetorically asks, and takes your hand in his, draping it over his forearm. “You’re with me, now, you must divulge in the few pleasures that life has to offer, my darling.”

“No one has offered to show me,” you confess shyly.

Show you he does. He takes you to the restaurant he frequents at and orders the bottle of wine he loves the most, along with dinner. Taehyung fills your glass and cuts your steak in bite sized pieces when it arrives. He advices you to sniff at the red colored alcohol first, before closing your eyes and having a taste.

You’re the most special kind of angel doing exactly as you’re told, taking a small sip of the aged wine. He watches, breath bated. When you open your eyes, the fascination on your face makes him smile brightly, proudly.

“Oh, it’s wonderful!”

“That’s my girl.”

Your fiancée leans back in his chair and lights a cigarette as you contently chew your food, drink your wine. He stares in awe, mesmerized by your genuine nature. You blush under his intense gaze.

“Won’t you eat?” You ask, biting your pink lips.

Taehyung can’t help but smirk at that. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll eat later, trust me.”

“You say it with such innuendo, I don’t understand—”

“Have you ever touched yourself, (Y/N)? Be honest with me.”

You choke on your food, eyes widening, coughing into your hand. Taehyung chuckles, offering you some water. You take it gratefully, chugging half the glass. He waits, amused, curious. A few people turn to look. He ignores them.

“That is not a proper question to ask a lady, Taehyung,” you scold him after you recover, fingers playing with your pearl necklace.

“You are to be my wife. I believe I can ask whatever I want,” he responds calmly.

You take a while to answer, instead turning to the wine for bravery.

“Why the interest?”

“Purely out of curiosity. I want to know what makes you feel good, sweetheart, for when I go down on that sweet cunt of yours.”

Your knife falls out of your hand and hits the floor at once. More people begin to tune into your conversation, intrigued. You look around, embarrassed and crouch to pick up your utensil. Taehyung turns his head to the side to blow smoke on the nosy woman on the table next to yours. She heaves, waving her hand and quickly minds her business.

“Did I say something to upset you?” He presses.

“You’re ridiculous and vulgar!” You half whisper, urging him to stop his teasing. “No one has ever spoken to me in this way.”

“Your boyfriend must’ve been a bore then, darling. I’m only stating my intentions. I would never dare to offend you.”

“It’s just as so.”

“Don’t be shy with me.”

“Yes!” You exclaim, and down the entire glass of wine. “Of course I have, who hasn’t? Now no more of this or I’m leaving.”

Taehyung shuts the fuck up at once.

He wishes he can say he was nothing but a total gentleman the entire evening, but that would a blatant fucking lie, wouldn’t it, because as soon as you get off the car to go into your house, he grabs you by the arm and kisses you deeply, hands ruining your hair. You moan and refute against his lips, but he holds you tighter, attempts to bruise your mouth so that you’d feel him there for a good fucking while.

He wishes he can say that had been all, but it wasn’t, because he takes you on the side of the building, covering you in shadows, and slips his hand under your dress, feeling your garters, touching the lace of your underwear. He rises your skirts, and fingers you right there, your parents just through the wall, wondering where their sweet little girl is.

You gasp and cling to him, bodies pressed together as he leaves you no room to think, to second guess, to breathe, even. He’s ruthless in his taking, selfish in his ambition to make you come for him, and so his digits curl in your slick, finding out the pleasure spots of you, desperate to have you screaming his name. You’re moving your hips towards his hand in no time, overwhelmed by how good it feels to have something inside you, fucking into you. Taehyung flattens his palm, and rubs your clit with the heel of it, long fingers edging you.

“Please, Taehyung… that feels too good, what are you doing to me?”

Your head falls on his shoulder, just as he hikes one of your thighs up his torso. He has half a mind to slam you down on his cock, fuck you in public, unashamed, outside your own fucking house, but he doesn’t, he won’t, because you’re important; because you matter, because he only wants to give you a little taste of what he can do for you.

“I’m stretching that little hole of yours, sweetheart. You’re so fucking wet for me, baby, so eager for my hand.”

Cupping you jaw, his tongue pushes past your lips in an open-mouthed kiss, eliciting more sounds from you, growing hotter, whinier, broken. Your pussy is making sounds too, all wet and filthy, and you seem to hear them as well, trying to pull away from his kiss, hide your face in his chest. He doesn’t let you, opens his eyes to see the pleasure written clearly on your features.

“You’ll come for me, won’t you, darling? All over my fingers? Let me see you, sweet thing, and then let me have a taste of those sweet juices. I bet you taste like pure fucking honey, I wanna bury myself in that cunt, drown in that cream. Won’t you give it to me, baby? C’mon, let go for me, let me see.”

When you come, you don’t seem to understand what you just did, what happened, and Taehyung is truly and completely awestruck by your innocence. He rubs circles on your clit until your body stops convulsing, and when he’s sure you’re okay to stand on your own, he kneels down in front of you on the dewy grass, gripping your hips, and diving in your folds, tongue lapping your slickness, so velvety, so goddamn tasty, before going for your clit, flicking the small bundle of nerves. You jerk away from him, the sensation unfamiliar. He brings you back, growls, grips tighter and does it again. And again. And again.

“Oh my God, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—”

He moans against your cunt, uses his hand again to provide more friction for you to rub against. You do immediately, your pussy on fire, aching like never before, your stomach in knots. Then he starts mumbling like a mad man—I can feel it, sweetheart, let me have it, come in my mouth, give it to me my filthy fucking girl, my little slut, Heaven on earth on my tongue, I swear, one more, one more baby, come on.

You come again, and this time you see stars; your vision blurs, and you almost collapse on top of him, but Taehyung holds you up whilst not missing a single drop of your release, licking all over, chin coated in your juices, running down his neck. He fucking loves it all, loves you, loves your cunt. Then, he hears it.

Your dad calling out for you. While he’s still buried between your thighs, erection pressing against his trousers, his daughter fucked out and half naked for everyone to see. You panic immediately, pushing your skirt down, looking at the direction of the voice worried, dizzy still from your orgasms.

Taehyung pulls your panties over your core, and gets up quickly, giving you one last kiss before slapping your ass. You hit his chest alarmed, anxiety ridden.

“Go first, darling. I’ll see you later.”

“But—”

He fixes you with a stern look. “Be a good girl.”

You hesitantly go, your hand dropping from his. He hates having to let go of you like this but doesn’t want to get you in trouble with your father, either. He waits a bit for both voices to disappear behind doors, before going back to his car, parked a couple houses back. Taehyung can barely think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock.

He rubs himself like that, with the thought of you coming undone over him, your taste still in his mouth. When he spits into his palm, he imagines your perfect lips wrapping around his shaft, taking his entire length into your small hole, gagging over his girth. He barely cares for anyone passing, or his indecency.

He wants to fuck you raw, fuck you dumb. Put a ring on your finger, and knock some babies in you, then die a happy man.

All in good time.

With guests arriving and gifts piling up, Taehyung hadn’t got a single chance to talk to you. Just a quick hello and peck on the cheek, before your mothers dragged you away to fix your dress and powder your face up to her standards.

You’d grimaced at him as you were taken to the guest room of his house, and he gave you a small smile in return. This day was most important to them, a celebration of two of the most powerful and influential families in all of France, so in that way, you had to look your best, and even then, your best didn’t guarantee perfection.

Taehyung thought you looked fucking stunning in your champagne-colored gown, crystals cascading down your hair. A wish, or a dream, or both. He can only imagine what you’d look like in your wedding dress, walking towards him down the aisle, given to no one but him, his to love, to cherish, to protect, and to fuck. He gets excited with the mere thought, the prospect of having you all to himself, to do whatever he pleases.

His father slaps him on the shoulder once, already more than three glasses of bourbon in; he had a buzz about him, a friendly aura, when he was drunk. It was easier to talk to him, then, in his relaxed state. But Taehyung had nothing to say—not to him, at least. He’d been a pain in the fucking ass all these years, and now when it’s time to do his duty and marry into a good family, all of a sudden, he’s the picture-perfect authority.

Bullshit. He loosens his tie a little, the noose suddenly entirely too tight around his neck, and puts the cigarette back in between his fingers, running a hand through his tidy hair, with the brushed back curls.

At first, greeting people had been easy enough. All he had to do was stand right next to you and shake hands. He doesn’t know when the air got so unbearably stifling, or when the faces all started blurring into each other, smiles melting off as if acid had been thrown onto them. Taehyung squeezes that hand he has around your waist, and you look up in concern. The music is too loud, the lights are too bright, and who the fuck keeps banging on his head?

“Tae?” You ask, delicate hands taking his pale face in them. “You’re overwhelmed,” you conclude, staring into his eyes. Then to your mother, “We’re gonna go get some fresh air.”

“Right now?” She chastises but doesn’t object. Perhaps Taehyung looks worse than he feels. “Be back soon, honey. You need to give your toasts, so we can bring out the cake.”

“Yes, mother.”

Like magic, his migraine disappears the moment you leave the living room. Your soft hand in his, leading him to privacy—all he needed, all he wanted. Your plan is to take him to the garden, have the crispy autumn air hit him, bring him back from his anxiety. But it wasn’t stress that made him unwell; it was those people, the fact that he knew none of them, and yet they got to congratulate him, to stare at his bride as if she’s nothing more than a piece of meat, something with an expiration date.

They think that Kim Taehyung won’t be faithful. That he’ll grow bored, and once he gives you a couple children, will try everything in his power to stay as far away as possible from you. The assumptions of a life he left far behind the moment he bought you that chocolate croissant were haunting him, karma coming to bite him. He was no longer that person they’ve heard so many rumors about it, nor does he wish to ever be, ever again.

You were his future now. His life. He was completely devoted to you. You had to know this.

Before you can reach for the balcony door, he pulls you into the library, locking the door behind him. You let out a gasp as he pushes you against the cold glass of the window that run across the wall, overlooking the majestic garden his mother and housekeepers had built. Taehyung smiles and puts both his arms on either side of you, his thumbs caressing your temples tenderly.

“I thought you weren’t well,” you mutter, blinking up at his handsome face.

“You always make me feel better.” He inches closer.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” And then he kisses you.

Gently, softly. Small feathery pecks, admiring the way you bloomed for him, under his touch. The party was gearing up, he could hear the melody change to something more upbeat, so he figured he could steal a few more moments with you, alone. His mind ran a thousand miles per hour.

“I want you to know, sweetheart, I want you to hear it from me directly, and believe me always when I say—I’ll be a good husband to you. I will always put you first, above my own self, whatever you need. Count on me, let me be a man that’s deserving of an angel like you,” he whispers against your lips, watches as your eyes glisten with tears of joy.

He kisses them away, then kisses your brow. You giggle, a sound holier than church bells. He would give you anything, then. His baby, his darling. Anything.

“I’m going to take advantage of you now— I can’t fucking wait any longer, you have me by the fucking balls, sweetheart.”

Your hands instinctively go for his shoulders, as he roughly pulls your dress up your legs, over your hips, those long fingers dipping underneath your silk panties, feeling that smooth pussy with his open palm. Taehyung groans into your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. He wanted to mark you, show everyone you’re his, but not now. You’d be too embarrassed to go back out, face all those guests.

Your cunt wasn’t shy, though. It coated his fingers with your slick wetness, opened up for him to have his way. So obedient, so fucking sexy—oh, he’d fuck you. Right against this window, for anyone that was outside to see. He didn’t give a fuck. You drove him crazy with how ready you always seemed to be, your body betraying any sort of rebuttal from you.

“Tell me baby, have you touched yourself since I was in between these legs?” As his middle finger slips inside your tight entrance. “Have you thought of me while rubbing this pretty pussy? Be honest with me, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” a breathy moan against his collarbone, as your hand wraps around the nap of his neck. “Yes.”

He’s a gone man, then. A girl as perfect as you, his promised girl, admitting to pleasuring herself with the thought of him? Taehyung almost wants to apologize for who he was about to become.

“Turn around for me, darling.”

You’re scared, overthinking the position, but with one last flick on your clit, you’re drenching his entire hand, rubbing on his forearm like a starved slut.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, I got you, I promise.”

“Will it hurt?” You ask quietly, and he shushes you, kisses away your worry.

“It might, angel. But you’re my strong girl, aren’t you? Bite on my hand if the pain is too much.”

He holds your hips aligned with his erection and unzips his trousers, pumping himself a few times, using your slick to coat his length. Taehyung then puts a hand over your mouth, and you hold onto it with both of your own, inching your ass closer to his cock absentmindedly, your body obviously wanting this as much as he does.

“Fuck me, you’re a fucking dream like this, darling, let me see you. Do that again.”

You do, the white garters and stockings you have on the sexiest thing he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. He’s seen a lot of pussy, but nothing compares, could ever compare to yours. Sliding his rock-hard length against your folds, he circles an arm around your waist, your knees already giving out. Taehyung chuckles, kisses your shoulder blade softly. What an adorable girl, so innocent in the ways of pleasure, all the different ways your senses can come alive.

“Take a deep breath for me, sweetheart.”

He enters you at once, what little resistance there was giving way. You scream into his hand, and he presses his chest on your back, fingers pressing against your mouth to keep you quiet. Stilling for a second, brows furrowing, aching to pound into you, to fuck you senseless, he then pulls all the way out, and thrusts back in, the tightness feeling incredible against his girth.

“Christ baby, where have you been my entire fucking life?”

You whimper, and push back, wanting to be as close to him as possible. “Faster, Taehyung, please.”

He needn’t be told twice. He stays inside you, picking up his pace, fucking into the deepest part of you, both arms wrapping around your waist, breathing labored, watching as you place two manicured hands on the glass, trying to keep yourself upright. He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing, how fucking perfect you are for him, taking cock so well, a natural, a good little slut, his baby, so proud of you, so fucking proud.

“Look at you, shameless, getting fucked for the whole world to see. You’re a filthy fucking girl, angel, aren’t you? All you want is to come on my cock, don’t you?”

“Please…”

Taehyung wants to grab you by the hair, drill himself into your hole, shape it to fit his dick exactly, to mark his place there so that you could never leave him, never let any other man in that sweet fucking place. Instead, he watched the crystals bounce, your tits smashed against the glass, corset keeping them in place.

“Please? Use your words, darling. What do you want?” He demands, bending you at the waist more, feeling his release getting closer.

“You, please, more, more!”

When his digits drop down to your clit again, you’re a crying mess, begging to be filled with cum, filled by him, to the brim, until you can’t take no more, and he gives it all to you, he’s generous, he slams one, two, three—your head falls in ecstasy, as he shoots his load inside of your insatiable hole, balls emptying all he’s been holding back for you.

He rests his head on your lower back, sweat dripping into his eyes, stinging. He kisses you over the flashy fabric of your dress, hands resting above your womb, thinking about seeing your swollen belly, carrying his child, a beautiful mommy.

Taehyung helped you get decent, tucking himself back in his pants, straightening his suit vest, passing a hand over his combed hair, and turned you around in his arms for a last kiss. Only this one was more intense; unlike any other kiss he’s ever experienced. It was emotional, carrying the trust and love you’ve grown to have for him, the most precious thing he could ever ask for.

“I’ve loved you since I met you, sweetheart,” he whispers sweetly in your ear, pulling back to see your reaction.

You flushed, hiding on his shoulder. He smiles fondly at your action and keeps you there for a while. Some time has passed since you two supposedly went to the gardens, and he didn’t want your mother to start an entire search party for the both of you, so he halfheartedly suggested to return to the living room.

Admittedly, there was no possible way to hide you two had sex. His mother shook her head as he brought you to stand in front of the two-tiered vanilla frosted cake, attached to your hip.

“I’ll love you til the day I die,” he promises later, in front of everyone, slipping a diamond ring on your finger. “Mine to hold, mine to keep.”

#taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung scenarios #bts scenarios #bts smut #taehyung fanfics #taehyung imagines #bts fanfics #taehyung fics #bts fics #taehyung imagine #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #.mine

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pinkanonwrites · 2 months

Text

Repaying The Favor

G1 Rumble/ Mechanic Reader - 4600+ words NSFW, Valveplug, Miscommunication, First Time, Oral Sex, AFAB Reader - They/Them Pronouns for reader

The sequel to "Oh! That's What That Does?!" is finally here! Same reader, same Rumble, same trying to figure each other out, only this time they get to slam down crazy-style about it. When will Frenzy get his turn in the spotlight? Eventually, I think! Maybe once I've finished a few other pet projects.

NSFW WRITING BELOW THE CUT!

It had been exactly fifteen days since you had last heard from Rumble.

Not that you’d been counting.

Sure, the cassettes probably had more important things to do than lounge around your workshop waiting for your attention, but that's exactly why it was so odd. They always had better things to do, things that they were pointedly avoiding doing by barging in on your work and taking up what little free space the shop had remaining. But since your little tryst with Rumble, you hadn't seen armor nor optic of any of the usual cassette bot suspects.

Maybe you'd broken some sort of ancient, space robot taboo that you'd never heard of. Or maybe Rumble was just embarrassed that he jizzed all over your jumpsuit. Either way, it wasn't like you had any way of getting ahold of them besides them dropping in, so there wasn't much to be done about the situation but wait.

You were leaving the corner store when you heard it, the cacophonous boom of a jet flying far too close to the tips of the skyscrapers overhead. The sound sent you reeling, bags crumpling to the sidewalk as you hurried to cover your ears. Down the street you could make out the screech of metal smacking against metal, see the flailing limbs of two massive robots staggering clumsily through the street as they traded blows with each other. Neither of them were one you recognized, the red Autobot with the oversized chest window wrestling one of the identical jet Decepticons into a clumsy headlock. As they stumbled about one of them trampled on a car parked along the curb, and you winced as the metal shrieked and crumpled under his massive foot.

Yeah, time to get out of here. You gathered up your bags and ducked into the alley between the buildings, slipping past trash bags and old graffiti, trying not to tread in any unidentifiable puddles. Off in the distance you could hear an emergency siren start to wail, hopefully signaling that whatever the space robots were quarreling over this time would be settled sooner rather than later. All you really wanted was to get back home without any further interruptions.

But as you emerged from the back alley entrance and found yourself hoisted into the air by two massive metal hands around your waist, you'd decided to kiss that chance goodbye. Your bags clattered to the ground once more, bread and fruit and canned goods spilling out around a familiar pair of pedes. When you glanced up to his faceplate, the glow of his visor was nearly enough to blind you.

“Rumble?!”

His visor dimmed enough that you could see his intake, which had just before been pulled into a maniacal grin, drop open in visible shock. Then, as quick as it came, it was gone, replaced instead with a tight, furrowed frown.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He barked.

“Buying food. Or trying to, at least.” You glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Ravage pounce on that yellow Autobot with the horns that was always showing up in the news. “You guys having a little play date or something?”

He scoffed out a laugh, quickly stifling it with a clearing of his vents. “Whatsit matter to ya? Didn't think you cared dat much about lil’ old me.”

“Rumble, what…?” Was he seriously pouting? Or maybe trying to guilt trip you? For what, making him cum? “What are you even talking about? I haven't seen you in like, two weeks.”

“Aww, real funny! You know what I mean! I let you poke around in my chassis and run up my charge, an’ after that it's radio silence? Whaddya humans call it… ghosting? Make a mech feel like second-rate shareware, why don't ya?”

You blinked at him once, twice, mind spinning as you tried to process his words.

“Are you- are you mad I didn't call you?”

His optic lights beamed as he bristled, armor flaring with a hiss before clamping tight back to his frame. “I told you to comm me!”

“Rumble, I don't have your number! I couldn't call you even if I wanted to!”

His grip went slightly slack as he stared at you, leaving you dangling from your armpits like a cat.

“I… I hailed you my frequency. In da EM field.”

“Humans don't have… whatever that is. Do you have a phone number?”

He stared at you again, much longer this time as the discordant crashing of giant metal men continued in the background. Then, with a sudden jolt, you were slipping free of his fingers as he dropped you unceremoniously to the pavement. It wasn't a far fall, just enough to make your feet tingle upon landing. When you looked up you saw he had both servos covering his faceplate, a string of muffled curses eking out between the digits.

Your mind was reeling. He actually wanted you to call him? To… repay the favor? Heat pooled in the pit if your stomach as your mind conjured up wicked memories of his stifled gasps and whimpers, how he’d squirmed beneath you as you prodded around his spark chamber. How behind all the billowing and smashing and Brooklyn-accented bravado, when you got down to the core of him, he was actually kind of… cute.

“You- just- I don’t- Get outta here! Go on, scram! Before you get stomped on or somethin’!” His face plate was flushed and glowing as he shooed at you. You would go, that was certain, you really didn't want to get stepped on after all. But first you were going to say something potentially risky, deeply embarrassing, and undoubtedly very, very stupid.

“Come over.”

His optics shuttered, flickering for a moment as he stared down at you, frozen.

“What?”

“Not right now. Tonight. When you guys are done getting wailed on? Come over.”

He opened his intake, then closed it. When he opened it a second time you caught a wisp of steam slipping through the gap in his dentae. He swallowed, hard. He never stopped staring at you.

“...Y-Yeah. Yeah. Awright. I'll be there.”

“Cool. Watch out for the yellow guy.”

“Huh-HGGRRK!?!” You stumbled back a few steps just in time for the Autobot to chuck Ravage directly into Rumble’s helm, sending him crashing into the brick wall beside you.

“Sorry! Are you alright?” The little Autobot called. “You should probably get out of here!”

He didn't have to tell you twice.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The news was just wrapping up their coverage on the ‘latest Decepticon assault’ when you heard a rap on your warehouse’s roll-up door. There wasn't much to see peering out the window, the street only haphazardly illuminated by old street lights. Not that you really needed to look, there was only one guest you were expecting at this time of night anyway.

You'd stopped at home first, mainly to take a shower and put on something that wasn’t a pair of mechanic’s overalls. But for some reason the nerves hadn't hit you until right now. You clamped down on the prickle of… anxiety? Excitement? Somewhere between the two? As you pulled the strap at the base of the roll-up, the groan of shifting metal slowly gave way to reveal…

“Are you wearing a bowtie?”

“Not bad, eh? Don't say I never cleaned up or nothin’. Here.” As Rumble stepped from the dark street into the light of the warehouse he pulled something from his subspace: a large, green bottle that he offered to you pinched between two fingers. A bottle of wine. Judging by the label, an expensive bottle of wine.

“Where did you get this?” You turned the bottle over twice in your grip, scanning the details on the back. French Merlot, aged… fifteen years? Holy shit.

“Dat fancy Italian place on the corner of Fourth and Vine! What, ya don't like it?”

“I didn't say that!” Rumble positively beamed as you clutched the bottle. “I just didn't expect it, is all. Are you… wining and dining me right now?”

“Is dat a good thing or a bad thing? Your human movies said you’re ‘sposed to bring a little somethin’ somethin’ before, y’know,” There was a sly, lopsided charm to his grin as he pulled the roll-up back down with his pede, clanking shut behind him, “Before you let me run your charge for a change.”

“You know, you don't have to try so hard to im…press… me.” You trailed off, staring down at the bottle in your hands, then back up to him, then back at the bottle, then him again. When you made eye contact with him the slyness seemed to falter a bit, leaving behind something softer in his smile. Something a little more vulnerable.

How did it take this long for it to click for you? He was wearing a bowtie, for Christ’s sake.

“Oh my God you're trying to impress me.”

“Eh?” A fidgeting servo tugged at his bowtie- which appeared to be made of… an old seatbelt? “Nah, you're crazy! Dis is jus’ what humans are ‘sposed to do!”

“Oh my God you are!”

“H-Hey, what'd I say about you and gettin’ big ideas?” He tried to deter you, but your mind was already racing a mile a minute.

“Do you actually like me? Like, want to date me? Do alien robots even date, cause I didn't know th- MMPH!”

With a massive metal palm pressed to your chest, Rumble pushed you back into your adjustable work table, still sitting at a mostly upright angle from the last time you'd repaired him. The table against your back was cold, a sharp contrast to the radiating heat from his servo as he pinned you in place with his hand. His face was inches from yours as he leaned over you, visor now gleaming with frustration and embarrassment.

“You can't get enough of dis, huh? Like pushin’ my buttons so much?” His servo pinned you down just a touch harder, forcing the air from your lungs in a breathy wheeze. “‘Oh, it's so fun to get Rumble all flustered! Lemme mess wit’ his head a lil more!’ Well maybe it’s Ol’ Rumble’s turn to do da messin’ around, huh? See how you like it when someone’s toyin’ with your sensitive bits.”

He bared his dentae as he spoke, another hiss of steam curling around your cheeks. It made your hair stand on end. A hot thrill ran through you, and you fought the urge to let your knees knock together, confident that Rumble would be able to keep you in place with brute strength alone. You could feel his thumb smoothing back and forth across your shirt, and as he glanced down at his servo the glare of his visor lessened slightly.

“...Why’s your fuel pump goin’ all crazy? You scared or somethin’?”

You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, willing your foggy mind to function. “Not… Not scared, exactly.”

There were a few seconds of tense silence, before the wickedest, prideful grin crept back up across his faceplate.

“Oh? Is dat so?” His other servo rose to grip the top edge of the table, fingers molding to fit the dent he’d left there previously as he loomed over you. “Well maybe we oughta do somethin’ about tha- SCRAP!”

His flirtations were cut short by the sharp SNAP of the stabilizing lock on your workbench failing under Rumble’s weight and flipping 180 degrees over. The world pitched and spun as you tumbled backwards, yelping as the table flipped and deposited you upside-down on the floor, legs sticking akimbo in the air. From between your dangling feet you could see Rumble peering over you with his sly expression wiped off his visor by one of concern.

“Slag! I didn't crush your little pedes when you flipped, did I? Cause I don't no nothin’ about fixin’ up injured squishies.”

Miraculously, you had managed to make it through that ass-over-elbow fall without hitting your head on anything, or Rumble accidentally pinning your legs in place between his bulk and the table frame. “I’m alright! Just didn't expect it, I’m okay.”

“Dat’s good. Here lemme jus’-” You felt a servo close around each of your ankles. With an effortless tug Rumble dragged you back up, tabletop tipping with you as it clunked back into its standard, flat position. Of course, this now left you with your ass and legs dangling off the edge of the workbench, Rumble standing between them with a servo resting on each knee. “Better?”

You sucked in a breath, trying desperately not to look overeager. “Better.”

“Ah, slaggit all…” But instead of putting his servos back on you (where you most certainly wanted them) Rumble began to scratch at the back of his neck, failing to meet your gaze. “Guess I ain't really cut out for all this… whaddaya call it? ‘Winin’ and dinin’?’ Can't even get my servos on ya without fraggin’ it up.”

“Hey, I’m definitely not complaining.” You attempted a jokey tone, but it didn't seem to do much to dampen Rumble’s current self-deprecation. You let the playful edge fall away as you dropped into something a bit softer. “I mean it though. You don't have to try to impress me. I mean it's appreciated! But, y’know, I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't already happy with the bot I was getting into it with.”

“Heh. Even if I end up crushin’ you a bit?”

“That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

He barked out another laugh, accompanied by a coil of thin steam hissing through his gap-dentae. “Well I guess I better make it worth da risk, shouldn't I?”

He snuck a servo under each of your knees, pushing them apart as he rocked his modesty panel against your clothed core. You stifled a gasp, the ridge of sturdy metal almost hot against you, even through layers of cotton and denim. The slow roll of his hips made your own stutter up off of the table, desperate for further friction.

“Cute. You like grindin’ on my panel? Should I make you bust jus’ like this?”

Despite the warm curl of arousal pooling in your stomach from the feeling, you knew this wouldn't be enough to get you off. Rumble seemed to know it too, letting out a low, pleased chuckle at your desperate expression.

“Jus’ yankin’ yer crankcase, sweetspark. I got somethin’ a lot more fun in mind for tonight anyway. Dat is, if you'll start gettin’ dese off.” He hooked a digit through your belt loop and gave them an experimental tug.

“Mmh, what, you don’t want to take them off yourself?”

“Oh, I’ll gladly take ‘em off ya. Just figured you’d take care of dis part here…” His thick digits slid inward, ghosting over the button of your jeans. “So I don't gotta rip ‘em off ya instead.”

You weighed your options. On one hand, the image of Rumble tearing denim apart with his bare servos as if it was no more than wet tissue paper was far more appealing to you than you would have originally expected. On the other hand… well, they were new jeans.

“I got it.” You mumbled, quietly filing the image away in your brain for later use as you undid your button and zipper. “Careful with th- Oh!”

With a sharp yank, Rumble tugged your jeans and underwear off your legs and let them crumple onto the floor. Shoving himself into the space between your knees, you could only barely make out the top of his helm over the slope of your stomach as he knelt before you, spreading your folds with two digits and… staring.

You waited for a response, a quip, the slow drag of metal over your slick hole, but were instead greeted with silence. Something prickled in the pit of your stomach as you fought the urge to squirm. In the back of your mind you vaguely remembered that you hadn't really gotten to see what Rumble was packing, and only now were you grappling with the truth that you were trying to have sex with a truly alien being. Would your bodies even be compatible? Was he weirded out right now? You tried to pull your knees together, only to be stopped by a rough servo shoving them back open.

“...It's rude to stare.” You muttered.

“EY! I ain't starin’! I'm, uh, admirin’. Dat’s it.” There was a similar tightness to Rumble’s voice. You shuddered as a thumb stroked the crease of your thigh. “Soft… An’ it's supposed to be dat pink?”

“Y-Yeah… that's, mmh, normal.” You shuddered at a wave of steam curling over your sensitive heat as he spread you again, visor locked on your twitching entrance.

“Primus. And you're really gonna let me spike ya in this tiny little hole?” You could feel his thumb just brushing the rim and stifled a groan at the sudden, aching emptiness, the demand to be filled. “I don't wanna tear you in half or nothin’.”

“It’ll fit.” You whined, core tensing around nothing. “We’re, unh, we’re pretty flexible. C’mon, Rumble…” You forced your knees further apart, pushing your hips up into each of Rumble's far-too-light touches. His motor snarled in response, a massive hand gripping the inside of each of your thighs.

“Slag. You're really achin’ for it, aren’tcha?” His voice was lower than you'd ever heard it before, deep and resonant and primal. “But I ain't gonna give it to ya dat easy, doll. Gotta make sure you can take it first.”

He raised his helm for just a moment, just enough for you to get a peek of his beaming visor and his wicked, gap-toothed grin between your legs. Then he descended, lathing his thick, hot glossa up the length of your cunt. You choked on a gasp, his servos the only thing keeping your hips from rabbiting up off the table. It was hot, his glossa thick and sturdy and drooling with oral lubricant, a thin layer of silicon over sturdier metal mesh dragging up through your folds.

“Easy, sweetspark…” You weren't the only one enjoying themselves. Rumble's low, rattling groan pulsed through your cunt. You swore you could just barely make out him groaning your name but it was lost, muffled as he pressed his faceplate further between your legs and his servos shivered where they gripped your thighs. He was messy and all too eager, arousal and oral lubricant spilling down his chin as his glossa stroked you; slow, deliberate drags up your folds until you were left dripping. At the apex he found your clit and took it between his dermas, a teasing hum rattling throughout his engine that had you gasping, thighs clenching around his thick helm. Your legs jerked as warmth bloomed outward from your core, hips writhing against the onslaught of pleasure. Dragging across his back your heel caught in a rounded divot, pulling a raggedy vent through Rumble’s dentae as his frame twitched.

“”Mmpfh!~ E-Ey, watch da spindle. It’s sensitive in dere…” He groaned, face still pressed into your cunt, servos only dragging your ass further off the table in his efforts to get somehow even closer to you. But instead you dug your heel in harder, pressing into the ridged divot and twisting your leg. The internal ring jerked with a sudden CLICK CLICK CLICK, each pop of noise making Rumble’s frame spasm like he'd just been electrocuted. “FRAG! Primus, that’s- ghh!~”

“Feel good?” You teased, breathless. His optics beamed back up at you, an oscillating, glistening red as you caught another peek of his gap-toothed grin from between your legs.

“So dat’s how you wanna play dis? Don't say I didn't warn ya, doll.”

You barely had a chance to respond before the noise was punched out of your lungs in a sharp whine as Rumble shoved a thick, metal digit into your drooling cunt. Achingly hard, unrelenting, he flexed it against your rippling walls as his dermas nestled themselves snugly around your clit. The hum reverberating through his frame coursed through your body like a wave, hands scrabbling desperately at his helm as the twinge of pain at the sudden intrusion melted into thick, syrupy pleasure.

“A-ah, fuck! Rumble, Rumble that's good, that's fucking good.~” Metal clanged as you lolled your head back against the table top, no longer able to keep it upright. Each drag of his digit, textured and ridged and unrelenting, sparked euphoria behind your eyelids. You felt every muscle in your body starting to prickle with pleasure, radiating outwards from your cunt and pooling in your head, your stomach, the tips of your toes…

You all but whined when he drew his digit away, dermas releasing your swollen clit with a slick pop. “C’mon! Rumble!”

“You want it dat bad, huh?” A shadow cast over your rumpled form as Rumble rose to his full height. From between your legs you could catch a glimpse of silver and blue panels fluttering and folding away, one of Rumble’s servos hiking the underside of your knee and the other stroking the gap between his thigh and pelvic armor as his spike rose to full attention. Christ, he was huge, the thick metal rod draped across your lower stomach as he rocked experimentally against you. Each thrust had the tip drooling a translucent, pinkish fluid you remembered scrubbing from the back of your jumpsuit, hot and vaguely smelling of well-oiled machinery and pooling across your bare stomach.

Rumble, for his part, seemed to be as entranced as you felt, visor vibrant and flickering as he stared down at the place his frame rubbed against your soft, supple body. A harsh ex-vent punctuated each roll of his hips, steam coiling around the corners of his slack, open intake as he pulled back, letting the tip of his spike slide wetly through your folds.

“Dat’s it, doll… You're gonna get exactly what you want. Gonna get you bouncin’ on dis spike, jus’ beggin’ for it…” His tone was low, entranced, just barely tinged with desperation. He dragged his tip through your folds again, and again, covering your cunt with his thick transfluid, making your breath hitch whenever he slid over your clit just right. You angled your hips up, guiding it right over your entrance, toes curling at the promise of pressure.

But before you could utter his name again, or any other placation or demand, you felt the heavy press, the slow, aching slide as he entered you. It teetered just on the edge of pain, muscles twinging at your inner thighs as you forced your legs wider to accommodate his bulky armor. And his spike offered just as little give, covered with a thin layer of silicon like his glossa but still distinctly sturdy, inflexible metal. Your walls rippled helplessly around the intrusion, stretched to a delicious degree as he bullied his way inside you.

About halfway to being fully sheathed in your heat he paused, visor hazy and unfocused, intake still hanging open as he vented steam. A servo was resting on each of your hips, but while one stayed in place the other slid up, up, bunching your shirt around his digits and shoving it up above your chest. There his servo paused on your side, his massive thumb stroking back and forth over your nipple, quickly pebbling under the cool metal.

“Primus.” He breathed, distinctly softer than you ever remember hearing him before (and oh, if that didn't do just as much for your arousal as everything else). Finally, his hips began to move again, that intoxicating ache only beginning to border on near-unbearable when you could feel your ass and the backs of your thighs smushed against his pelvic armor. For another moment he paused, one servo cradling your hip and the other your chest.

Then he drew back, and thrust home.

The first thrust forced the air out of you in a desperate, sharp wheeze. This didn’t slow him, not in the slightest, digits sinking into the plush meat of your hip as he jackhammered into you. Each thrust had the entire table rattling, the sharp clang of metal against metal where his thighs hit the dented table’s edge. His quiet reverence had given way to an onslaught of erotic babble, visor locked on your face as it twisted and furrowed in pleasure.

“Takin’ it so fraggin well… You’re just made for takin’ my spike, aren’tcha?” He scooped his servo under your hip and lifted you further up, all but folding you in half as he loomed over you. His dermas brushed the curve of your jaw, just below your ear, and you could feel the heat of his ex-vent making your skin tingle. “You’ve jus’ been waitin’ for me to frag you stupid, plug up that achin’ valve til you can’t think of nothin’ else.”

“Mmmh…~ It’s so big.” You slurred, thighs slick with sweat and slipping on his plating as you struggled to lock your ankles in the small of his back. His frame shivered like an electric current ran through it, clutching you somehow even closer to his massive chassis.

“Nghh…~ Yeah? You love dis fat spike, don’tcha? Say it.”

“I love it!~”

“You want me to spill my load in this tight little valve, don’tcha?”

“Please!”

“Aghh, slag! Y-You’re gonna get it, sweetspark. You’re gonna take it all, j-just-mmfh!~” His vents were ragged and desperate, thrusts stuttering as he neared his release. You squealed as his thumb found your clit, rubbing the swollen bud in rough, tight circles. Euphoria was buzzing throughout your body, the ache of your lower back buried beneath the onslaught of pleasure and heat coiling in the pit of your stomach and blooming out through your limbs, legs shaking, hands trembling.

Sparks exploded behind your eyelids as your orgasm washed over you, hips jerking weakly against Rumble’s. There was no give to his spike at all, thick and steady and unyielding as your pussy squeezed and pulsed around it. You felt a flood of something molten spill into your core, filling you nearly to the point of aching as it spilled out around the tight ring of your hole around his base. Rumble’s frame stuttered, jittering, a harsh crackle of static and mechanical chatter pouring from his drooling intake where it was still buried in the crook of your neck. Finally, finally, his frame grew still. The only noise between the two of you were your shared, harsh breaths and the low churn of the occasional car driving past outside.

“Mmmmnnghh…” Rumble groaned, shifting his hips to pull his shrinking spike from your core as he rose unsteadily back to an upright position. You could feel transfluid dribbling from your hole as he tucked himself back away- thick, translucent globs spilling down the insides of your thighs and hitting the floor with a splatter. His engine gave a little, stuttering snarl despite himself as he dragged his digit tips through the shimmering line along one of your inner thighs. “I oughta take a picture of dis…”

“Don’t you dare.” You kicked weakly at his servo, legs now tingling with static as blood rushed back to them. He barked out a sharp laugh, effortlessly batting your foot aside. His servo rested atop your lower stomach and gave a teasing press, and you shivered as more globs of thick transfluid drooled from your cunt. “Jerk.”

“Eyy, you love it!”

“Unfortunately.” There was no real bite to your tone, you could tell by the way Rumble grinned. “Think you can give me a hand getting over to the bathroom before my knees give out?”

“Depends. Does dat count as you owin’ me a favor?”

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #rumble #rumble x reader #tf rumble #g1 rumble #valveplug #long post #my writing #nsft

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beawhatchumean · 1 month

Text

BOOM! IT'S FINISHED!!

after so long, it finally done and dusted and ready for public release :3c

LMK SIX EAR MACAQUE SHIMEJI VER 1.0!!

Just click on the big words and ya can download, ye :D

Contains 2 zipfiles: The normal version and less frames version

Read down below for explanations on that

if got any problems launching and stuff, dont be afraid to message me, i'll try to help ya out :>

but as seen in the quick lil poster i made there, it says extra animation + more more info about that underneath the read 👇

from the top,

EXTRA ANIMATION

Same like the SWK Shimeji, this one is has unique frames for each action of the Shimeji. best example is the walk, run, dash actions seen below

there are other actions that have unique frames like these, you are free to explore them :>

CUSTOM ACTION NAME

There are a few actions renamed in the shimeji code. Here is a guide for what they do:

Take Out Lantern = Mac takes out his lantern and admires it

Create Clone = Shimeji breeding 1

Visit Shadow = Shimeji breeding 2

disclaimer, I plan on making a full action guide list in the future so you can much easier reference what each action does :>, so stay tune when that happens

CUSTOM ACTION

Just like SWK, you may pet the Macaque!! >:3c give the lil bugger all the love he deserves~ (credit to Kilkakon for the original script)

as seen in this gif :3

Steps to do this action is as followed:

Make the shimeji sit down (any surface is okay, ie work floor/window top)

Move the cursor to the shimeji's head

Make sure it is a hand cursor and not an arrow cursor

Pet away!!

If you want to pick up the shimeji without prompting the pet action, just move the cursor lower until it turns into the arrow icon

NON-SYMMETRICAL SHIMEJI

One more thing that causes this to be my fav Shimeji so far. HE HAS NON-SYMMETRICAL FRAMES. Meaning his black sleeve stay on his left, while yellow stay on his right.

To do this, Mackie needed much more frames compared to SWK, which might cause him to lag on some devices. Hence why I prepared 2 versions of Mackie here. One with symmetry and one with none

PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE LESS FRAME VERSION TO NOT FRY YOUR PC'S!!

UPDATES WILL HAPPEN!!

just like SWK, this is version 1.0

updates will happen and I am at work working on the next csutom action. But it will not come out anytime soon since it requires me to draw a bunch of more frames again hhhh

BUT DO STAY TUNED >:3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

but for now that will be all for ver. 1.0

many thanks to anyone interested in this project and of course

BIGGEST THANKS TO THOSE THAT HELPED BETA TEST THEM

for privacy reason they shall stay anonymous but

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤ >:3

PLUS EVEN MORE HEARTS!! ❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

#monkiekid #lego #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #six eared macaque #6 eared macaque #lmk macaque #shimeji #monkie kid macaque #lego macaque #liu er mihou

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0nerd-at-heart0 · 3 months

Text

The Case Continues

A/N: Thank you for ALL the love and support on my latest fic!!!! ♥ After not writing for a year it felt weird to write again but y'all have been so sweet, so truly thank you to all of you. I just finished 2 of midterms and there was this guy behind me on one of my tests coughing like crazy so now I am sick. While I should take this opportunity to study for the LSATS now that I am stuck in bed, I just had to continue writing. As long as you all continue reading I am more than happy to continue writing. If you want to be added or taken out of the taglist please DM me :)

P.S. : I used the stars to break down the sections for myself as I wrote and kept them in, if they are weird or unhelpful let me know so I can get rid of them and as always feedback is always welcomed

Taglist: @happy74827 @princessvader15 @hashcakes @malfoys-demigod @yiiiikesmish

Word Count: 5.5 k

Warnings: sexual harassment, cursing, pet name like sweetheart, mentions of food and eating (any more warnings that I missed please let me know)

There will be a part 3 after this one, still writing it but if you haven’t please check out the Part 1: The Stress of a Case

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As you finished the last bite of your meal in Rachel’s office, a comfortable silence settled between you and Harvey. Harvey leaned back in his chair, and a sense of relief seemed to wash over his face, "You did well today, Y/N. We'll get through the Jackson case. I promise. Whatever it takes.”

You offered a small, appreciative smile, acknowledging the sentiment. "Thanks, Harvey. It means a lot."

You stared at the clock and the realization that it was time to head home crept in. Harvey, ever the gentleman, offered you a ride, “Come on, I’ll take you home.” He stood up moving the desk back to how he found it and picked up the trash.

However, your need for control and familiarity after the recent panic attack made you decline the ride, "Thanks for the offer, Harvey, but I think I'll take my own car tonight."

A small, almost imperceptible frown flashed across Harvey's face, quickly replaced by his usual composed expression. "Alright." was all he could stammer out.

After parting ways, you walked towards the parking lot, keys in hand. As you drove home alone, a subtle sense of curiosity lingered. What if you had accepted Harvey's offer? What could have unfolded in the confined space of his car, free from the walls of the office?

The thought nagged at you as you navigated the familiar streets, feeling your head cooling off. Rolling down the window to allow the fresh air to overflow your senses There was a part of you that wished you knew the answer, a desire to unravel the mysteries that lay hidden beneath the surface of your professional relationship with the Harvey Specter.

The next few days went by pretty fast. All days felt the same . It was a routine of restless nights as your mind was clear yet foggy on your night with Harvey. Nervous yet excited on what the following days would bring. You woke up early every day to go to your favorite coffee spot. But every day you spent it at your desk going through Amir related emails and one day you spent the day researching organic cat food for Louis. You haven't even had the chance to really see or talk to Harvey, not that you were keeping track ( 3 times he has spoken to you).

But about 10 days after the incident, here you were, standing in the elevator, expecting to be another calm day of going through Amir’s associates emails with Rachel.

But when the elevators dinged, the beautiful face of Donna Paulsen appeared as the door opened. She stood there waiting for you and without saying a word she turned on her heel and gestured for you to follow her. And like a loyal puppy you followed Donna through the corridors, her signature click-clacking heels echoing in the hallways as you tried to keep you.

As you walked, Donna’s voice boomed, efficiently providing a rundown of the latest developments in the Amir Jackson case. Apparently, Amir had signed a contract with his brother-in-law’s firm, and Harvey was currently breaking it down in his office to find any potential weaknesses or loopholes. You were confused but eager to understand your role in all this, so you did your best to keep up with Donna's brisk pace. The details of the case were important, but the question of why Donna was sharing them with you lingered in the back of your mind.

Donna approached Harvey's office, she shot you a sly smile and motioned for you to enter. The door creaked open, revealing Harvey Specter engrossed in his work. Donna whispered, "You wanted to be in the big leagues; well, here you go."

Harvey was seated at his desk, a stack of papers spread out before him. Mike Ross was leaning against the wall, and both turned their attention to you as you entered.

Donna, standing in the doorway, mouthed, "You got this."

It dawned on you—this wasn't just an update on the case. Donna had orchestrated this moment for a reason. You were being given a seat at the table, an opportunity to contribute to a high-stakes strategy session. The realization sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins. Harvey was keeping his word after all.

Harvey and Mike acknowledged your presence, you straightened your posture and mentally prepared to engage in the battle of wits that lay ahead. You are ready to keep up and prove your worth beyond your typing skills.

Mike walks up to you handing you a file, and you take a seat. Knowing the breakdown you take out your colorful pack of highlighter ready to color coordinate. Purple for potential loopholes, yellow for things to research, blue for important dates and green for contacts.

Harvey couldn't help but notice you being meticulously organized. With a smirk, he quipped, "Really, Y/N? Color-coordinated highlighters? Are we in kindergarten?"

You, shot back with a playful smile, "Well, Harvey, some of us appreciate a little order and aesthetic appeal. It's called professionalism."

Harvey raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the quick retort. "Professionalism, huh? I prefer the classic black and white approach. Simple and effective."

You without looking up from your file said, "Well, Harvey, sometimes a splash of color can make things more interesting. Maybe you should try it sometime.” Reaching down to your highlighter bag you pulled one out handing it to him, “Here, I think pink suits you”

He takes it from your hand, not backing down, “You know if your legal skills were as efficient as your highlighting skills we would be done with these files already”

You retorted, “Well, Harvey, if your people skills were as smooth as your hair, we'd have won the case yesterday."

Mike, who had been silently working, looked up with a bewildered expression, unsure of how the banter had suddenly transformed into a flirtatious exchange. He blinked, processing the unexpected turn of events.

Harvey leaned against the table and raised an eyebrow. "Smooth hair, huh? You're just jealous, Y/N."

"Oh, please," you replied with a smirk, "I've seen smoother hair on a mannequin."

Mike, now thoroughly confused, looked between Harvey and you, trying to decipher when this banter became a new development.

Before anything can go any further there is a knock at Harvey’s door, it was Rachel. After hearing from Mike about your little fainting incident, she was kind of overbearingly persistent on making sure you were eating and were okay no matter how much you told her you were fine. Despite your reassurances that the incident of passing out was a one-time occurrence and that you were doing better, Rachel continued to express her care in thoughtful ways.

Today was no exception. Rachel asked to borrow you for a moment. Excusing yourself from your work, you followed Rachel outside the office. She had a warm smile on her face and a bagel in her hand, with your name on it.

"Hey, I know you said you're doing better, but I thought you might need a little pick-me-up," Rachel said, offering you the bagel.

You couldn't help but smile at Rachel's thoughtful gesture. "Thanks, Rachel. You really don't have to keep doing this, but I appreciate it."

Rachel chuckled, "I know I don't have to, but I want to. Consider it my way of making sure you stay fueled and ready to tackle anything."

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While you were outside having that conversation with Rachel, Mike couldn't help but seize the opportunity for a little teasing. Looking at Harvey with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he remarked, "What was that?"

Harvey, ever the master of composure, shot Mike a sharp look. "Shut up and focus, Mike," he retorted, trying to divert attention back to the files.

Mike, undeterred by Harvey's attempt to change the subject, leaned back with a playful grin. "Oh, you're definitely focused on something," he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Harvey rolled his eyes, realizing that he might have just opened himself up to a barrage of teasing from Mike.

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You returned to the office with the bagel in hand, you tucked it away in your bag without giving it much thought. However, Harvey's raised eyebrow didn't go unnoticed. He questioned, "Aren't you going to eat that?"

Unbeknownst to you, the hesitation stemmed from a lingering unease about eating near files, especially in front of Harvey—thanks to the hot Cheeto incident. Harvey, catching on to your reluctance, decided to assertively intervene, "Eat."

You raised an eyebrow, teasing, "Bossy much, Harvey?"

Harvey quickly adds, “Well I am the boss”.

Mike, always quick to jump into the banter, chimed in, "Hey, wait a minute. Rachel didn't get me a bagel."

Harvey, in his usual deadpan manner, responded, "Deal with your relationship drama outside the office”

Mike mumbled to himself though directed at Harvey “you deal with your relationship drama outside the office” as he turned over to the next file.

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Without hesitation you grabbed another file, opening it up you saw on one of the clauses of the contract that it said, “Keep an appropriate reputation”.

You spoke up, “Have we been able to contact his brother in law?”

“Louis is currently on that”, Harvey said nonchalantly.

“Louis?!?!”, the shock in your voice was not hidden at all as your hand went to cover you mouth,

“See even she is shocked’’, Mike gestured towards you as he closed his file.

“Mike you are going to have a deposition with Amir in about an hour and I got to prep you. As much as I'd rather have you do it,” Harvey eyes quickly glance at you before returning to the file in his hand, “I don’t have time to walk you through it, plus Jessica said I have to throw Louis a bone”, Harvey mumbles the last bit.

You nodded, understanding that you were too green to already start interviewing people without supervision.

After an hour of underlining and highlighting things they may be able to use against him, Harvey dismissed you and Mike to prepare for meeting Amir. You gave Mike a questioning look as you exited the office.

The door closed and you could have sworn you heard music playing.

“He has a whole routine when he has a stressful case”, Mike said as he handed Donna a piece of paper to fax.

“Whoa, you are just going to share Harvey’s secrets like that”, Donna added.

“She is part of the group now, she deserves, nay she needs to know”, Mike defensively argued

Donna playfully rolled her eyes and all you can do is laugh.

“Imma go to the conference room and set everything up”, Mike then turned on his heels.

“Why are you meeting with Amir?”, you couldn't help the question come out of your mouth.

“Jessica and Harvey believe he is trying to get in our heads”, Mike causally stated like this is somehow normal, “anyway see you afterwards”.

You headed down to the bullpen with a couple of files in hand for you to review. The bullpen was empty, you saw a memo on your desk that Jessica was holding a mock trial for the associates. You believed she was doing this to boost morale. It's been 3 weeks since the Jackson case was first assigned and every day the stress of the case becomes more evident in not only the partners but everyone.

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All that can be heard was the click-clack of your keyboard as you diligently worked on a memo at your cubicle in. A man walked it, he didn't go unnoticed as he leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his face.

"Working hard or hardly working, sweetheart?" he said with a smug grin.

Startled by his words, you looked up to fully take in this strange man, his eyes flickering with a hint of amusement.

"What can I do for you?", you let out an annoyed breath.

He wasn't unattractive, tall, seemed to be built, his dark hair slicked back and his tan figure was highlighted with a beautifully tailored suit.

He ignored your attempt to deflect his trashy pickup line as he leaned in, invading your personal space. "You know, I am here to see Mike Ross, but I would rather be seeing you. What do you say we grab a drink sometime?"

You noticed a wedding ring on his hand and that added to your discomfort which was palpable, and you glanced around, searching for a way out of the situation. Amir Jackson was standing right before you in all his dirty lawyer glory. Before you could respond, the familiar sound of a door swinging opening caught your attention. Harvey Specter stormed into view, his expression colder than the usual glacial demeanor he reserved.

"Amir, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Harvey's tone was razor-sharp, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Amir straightened up, his confident facade faltering in the face of Harvey's iciness. "Just trying to get to know the beautiful talent that sits before me" he replied, attempting to play it off.

Harvey's jaw clenched, and he stepped forward, his presence dominating the small cubicle. "This is not the time or the place for your personal agenda. We're here to work, not to entertain your attempts at charm.", emphasis on the word attempt.

Amir chuckled nervously, realizing he had crossed a line. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble, Harvey. Just thought we could all use a break."

Harvey's stare could freeze time itself. "Save your charm for the courtroom, Amir. Now get lost before I decide to make this a legal matter."

Amir hastily retreated, leaving the cubicle, heading upstairs to interview Mike.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Harvey's gaze softened ever so slightly as he turned to you. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, grateful for Harvey's intervention. "Thanks, Harvey. I didn't know how to get rid of him.” You left a pause before continuing, “Though he was cute”, it was your attempt to lightened the mood

But it seemed that you failed as you could have sworn that Harvey’s eyes darkened.

“Don't tell me he is your type?” Harvey glares, trying to play it off as a playful intrigue. Though behind those words were sharp undertones of jealousy.

Was your type arrogant lawyers? Oh god, you thought to yourself.

“I mean if we are being honest”, you were already regretting the words coming of of your mouth, “I wouldn’t mind drinks with him, if you know he wasn't-”

“A dirty slimeball”, Harvey interrupted.

“I was going to say married but hey your words not mine”, You shrugged as you smiled, tilting your head up to look at him.

Like a switch any sign of a normal human being verison of Harvey goes back to a cold exterior Harvey ", Get back to work. We have a case to win."

Suddenly, the sound of approaching footsteps shattered the silence. Louis Litt barged into the bullpen, a triumphant expression on his face. "I got it, I got it!" he declared, his voice echoing through the walls.

Harvey shot him a stern look. "What do you mean, Louis?"

Louis beamed, brimming with excitement. "I met with Amir’s brother in law and we have a plan"

"Louis, I don't like that look on your face. Well, actually, I don't like your face, period," Harvey retorted, his patience wearing thin but shot you a mischievous look as you let out a small laugh.

Just as Louis was about to unveil his plan, you received a text from Rachel, asking for assistance upstairs. Seizing the opportunity to excuse yourself , you made a quick exit, leaving Harvey to deal with Louis's eager revelation.

As you walked away, you overheard Louis saying, "Can I just tell you my plan?"

You missed Harvey's response that carried a tone of indifference, "Louis, I am a lawyer, not your babysitter. You don't need to run your ideas by me. Just do whatever it takes to win."

"Whatever it takes," Louis echoed, his enthusiasm undeterred as he practically skipped out of the room, eager to set his plan in motion.

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The next day, as you were on your way to the copy room, Louis Litt beckoned you into his office. The air in the room felt different, an unusual tension hanging in the air. Louis, with a somewhat secretive smile, asked for your help with a deposition. He believed you were the perfect candidate to handle the client interview. He said he will be there to supervise it all.

Despite the lingering suspicion about Louis's true intentions, you were eager to prove your skills and showcase your capabilities. With determination in your eyes, you took the file full of questions that Louis prepped for you into the conference room, ready to face the challenge. As you were coming round the conference room, Louis excused himself to the bathroom saying he was going to be right back and to start without him.

As you entered the room and set up the camera, you were met with the unexpected sight of Amir Jackson—the person you would be interviewing. Suppressing the internal alarm bells, you maintained a professional demeanor and focused on the task at hand.

"Good morning, Mr. Jackson. My name is Y/N, and I'll be conducting the deposition today. Please make yourself comfortable," you greeted, doing your best to project confidence.

Amir acknowledged you with a nod, “Oh trust me. I remember you. I can't forget a face like that sweetheart”.

You couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this deposition than met the eye. As you pressed record on the camera, a pit forming in your stomach as you felt that you were part of a bigger scheme that Louis had formed. But you continued on.

The questions came to an end and Louis was nowhere in sight. You think you did a good job but you really hoped you would have some help guiding you. You were reaching over to turn off the camera when Amir made his way around the table, invading your personal space as he placed his hand on your thigh. You felt disgusting, but you gritted your teeth and tried to remove his hand. His grip just got tighter.

“Mister Jackson, you are married and I am not interested so please let go”, you remained calm.

"This isn't the first time I've given in to another woman's temptation," Amir whispered, his hand slowly making its way up higher. . The situation escalated, and you attempted to stand up, desperate to distance yourself from his unwarranted advances.

Just as the discomfort reached its peak, Louis Litt stepped into the room,

"We got you now, Amir," Louis declared, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Louis revealed that the entire encounter had been captured on camera, since the little red button was still going and Louis left his dictaphone as well. There was enough proof of the man Amir really was

The revelation startled Amir, who looked like he was ready to erupt in anger at being caught.

But a last Amir stammered trying to get his words together.

“I think you should make some calls”, Louis said, his smile not faltering.

Amir, now furious, stormed off, leaving you alone in the aftermath of the orchestrated confrontation.

Anger boiled within you. You were mad at Amir, you wished you had the strength to have slapped him or yelled at him but you froze, your mind was whirling running 100 mph before you can truly comprehend what was going on. Now that it was over you were a teapot full of steam. Ready to blow. The more you thought about it, the more your frustration became directed at Louis.

His dramatic reveal. His smirk. This was the plan all along and you were just his puppet. He knew this was going to happen, he wanted this to happen.

"Why the hell did you put me in that situation?" you snapped, the intensity of your emotions evident.

Louis, unfazed, responded, "It was Harvey's idea. We had to win the case, and trust me this”, he gestured to you and the empty door, “ sealed the deal”

Your anger shifted, now directed at Harvey Specter, the architect of this manipulative plan. The lines between professional strategy and personal boundaries blurred, they have been blurring. But this, this felt like the lines were being drawn all over again, You took a deep breathe as you were left grappling with the aftermath of an uncomfortable encounter.

You stormed out of the conference room.You were shaken and in desperate need of someone to confide in. As you walked down the hallway your bubbling emotions made every step a struggle. In your mind, the need to talk this out with Rachel outweighed any confrontation you might have had with Harvey.

Focused on reaching Rachel's office, you were determined to leave the unsettling incident behind. However, Mike Ross, perceptive as ever, intercepted your path, concern shown across his face.

"Hey, are you okay? What happened back there?" Mike inquired, his voice laced with genuine worry.

The overwhelming emotions made it difficult for you to articulate your feelings. When Mike reached out to grab your hand, hoping to offer some comfort, a reflexive flinch escaped you. The subtle gesture spoke volumes about the impact of the encounter.

"Don't ask like you don't know," you managed to utter, your tone heavy with frustration and disappointment.

Mike was left dumbfounded, his attempts to provide support met with an unexpected defensive response. As you stopped in your tracks, you turned to face him, meeting the bewilderment in his eyes.

"I was Louis’s bait but if this was Harvey's idea, lord knows you were right there beside him. Batman and freaking Robin," you added, the accusation hanging in the air.

Mike's expression shifted to curiosity as he raced down the hall to Harvey’s office, needing an explanation. What the hell did you do now Harvey, Mike thought to himself.

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You sought refuge in Rachel's office. Rachel offered a comforting presence. You recounted the events, finding solace in Rachel's understanding.

"I can't believe he used you like that. I'm so angry on your behalf," Rachel said, her support unwavering.

As Rachel provided a comforting presence for you, on the other side of the office, Mike Ross stormed into Harvey's office, his frustration evident. Ready to give Harvey a piece of his mind for giving Louis the idea to use you as bait, Mike's accusatory words were poised on the tip of his tongue.

But Harvey, surprised by the accusation, defended himself. "What are you talking about, Mike? I didn't allow Louis to do anything."

Before Mike could continue, Harvey's tone softened. "How is she, Mike? Is she okay?"

Mike hesitated, admitting, "She's shaken up, Harvey."

Without sparing another second, Harvey stood up, determination etched on his face. "I need to find her."

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The atmosphere in Rachel's office was heavy as you sat there, still visibly shaken from the encounter with Amir Jackson. You found comfort in spinning your bracelet around your wrist.

Rachel, ever the empathetic friend, suggested a visit to the bakery you both loved, a subtle attempt to bring a touch of sweetness to the somber moment. As she left to fetch the cookies, you stayed seated at her desk chair, staring out of the window.

Harvey stepped in to check on you. The air seemed to crackle with unspoken tension as you looked up, frustration written across your face. You turned back to the window refusing to look at him.

You couldn't hold back the surge of emotions that spilled out. "Fuck you"

You were always so poised, always so put together, Harvey couldnt and wouldnt lie that hearing your curse did something to him. But he scratched that out of his mind, returning to the matter at hand.

Still taken aback by the force of your words, he raised his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with what Louis did. I wouldn't put you in that position."

But you weren't convinced. "Your motto is 'do whatever it takes to win,' right? I was just a pawn in your grand scheme of things. Last week, after the panic attack, I thought we were okay. I thought we were on good terms, but now I don't know what to believe."

Harvey's expression hardened as he tried to find the right words to reassure you. "You weren't a pawn, Y/N. I didn't know about Louis's plan, and I would never intentionally put you in a situation like that."

You scoffed, frustration and hurt evident in your voice. "Your actions speak louder than words, Harvey. I'm tired of being caught in the crossfire of your 'win at all costs' mentality.”

Harvey, his usual composed demeanor faltering, tried to find the right words to reassure you. The weight of your accusations, was challenging the fragile trust that had started to rebuild between both of you.

You continued to stare out of the window, refusing to meet Harvey's gaze. He could feel the tension escalating, and he knew he had to address the storm of emotions swirling within you.

"Look at me," Harvey said firmly, his voice cutting through the charged atmosphere.

You clenched your jaw, still refusing to comply. Unfazed, Harvey moved closer and he bent down a little so he would be eye level with you and with a gentle touch, guided your head to face him. His touch ignited the fuel of your emotions, whether it be rage or something else entirely. There was a fire burning within you.

"I don't like to repeat myself," Harvey stated, his eyes locking onto yours.

You met his gaze, still angry, a tempest of emotions brewing within you. He could see the fire in your eyes and sensed the need for an outlet. "Yell at me," he urged, guiding you to stand up.

You were now facing Harvey, an arm's length between both of you. You took this oppurtunity, you took a deep breath as you let it all out.

"You are insufferably arrogant and stubborn. You're like a shark in a corporate sea, ruthless and cold-hearted. You wield your charisma like a weapon, and everyone else is just a pawn in your game. You bend the rules until they are ALMOST at a breaking point", you go off on a mini rant.

Harvey, with a measured tone, responded, "I don't disagree. The fact that I haven't interrupted you should tell you I take pride in who I am. But one thing you didn’t say and one thing I would never do is hurt the people I care about. Maybe I would occasionally push Mike in front of a slow-moving car, but that's as far as I'd go."

You stifle a small laugh, trying not to give Harvey any satisfaction. But you nodded at him showing that you believed him.

His hand rested on your shoulder as his eyes looked at you with concern. "How are you?" he emphasized.

You shrugged, voicing your discomfort. "I feel kinda disgusting right now."

Harvey's jaw tightened as anger flared in his eyes. "I'm gonna kill Louis," he declared, ready to retaliate.

As he turned to leave you grabbed his arm. "Don't hurt him," you pleaded, your voice holding a mix of anger and compassion. Despite the hurt you felt, you couldn't bear the thought of Louis facing physical harm.

Harvey paused, looking down at your hand on his arm. "I can't promise that I won't give him a piece of my mind, but I won't hurt him physically."

You nodded, acknowledging the compromise.

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The celebratory feeling filled the air in Jessica's office as Harvey stormed in, anger etched across his face. Louis and Jessica stood there, clinking glasses in celebration of what they believed was a triumph in the Amir Jackson case.

"Join us, Harvey! Louis found a way for us to win this case. It's finally over" Jessica exclaimed, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing within Harvey.

Harvey's eyes narrowed as he observed Louis making himself small under the intensity of his gaze. Unable to contain his fury any longer, Harvey erupted, "Louis, you pretentious fucker! How dare you do that to her?"

Jessica, puzzled, looked between Harvey and Louis. "Harvey, what happened? Why are you so angry?"

Ignoring Jessica's inquiry, Harvey continued his tirade, directing his fury solely at Louis. "You used Y/N. You put her in a bad situation with Amir. That's a new low, even for you."

Jessica's confusion shifted to anger as she slammed her glass down. "What?"

Louis, feeling the heat of Harvey's wrath, defended himself, "You said to do whatever it takes to win."

" One, you know how I feel about cheating. And two, you know what yeah this is my fault. For half a second there, I thought you would be a lawyer, not try to pimp out my associate," Harvey placing particular emphasis on the word "my."

“Here's the deal," Louis began to explain his plan. "Amir's brother-in-law allowed him to join his firm under one condition: he behaves and doesn't cheat on his sister. Now, Amir signed his contract promising to behave because Amir’s brother in law has a list of evidence that could easily get him disbarred, but his brother-in-law promised not to expose him as long as he kept his promise."

Louis sighed as he continued, "Y/n was the bait, Harvey. She is one of the more attractive associates that Amir couldn't resist. So I let the pawns fall where they should fall and we got it all on camera. Amir's brother in law is going to the association to get him disbarred as we speak. "

Jessica chimed in, "Louis, why couldn’t you let it so Y/N in on the plan.”

Louis nodded, ‘’ I didn't think it would be a big deal”

The room collectively groaned.

"The only reason you don't have a broken nose right now is because she asked me not to hurt you...physically," Harvey declared, his rage simmering beneath the surface.

Jessica, ever the professional, butted in, “Harvey the case with Amir is over now, let me handle Louis” giving Louis a dirty glare before opening the door to her office moving Harvey out the door, “Tell everyone to go home for the night”.

Harvey followed suit, leaving Louis to face the wrath of Jessica. As he closed the door he could hear Jesscia yell, “What were you thinking”

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Harvey's footsteps echoed through the hallway as he made his way to Rachel's office, seeking you out. Upon entering, he found you surrounded by Mike and Rachel, laughing at something as Mike shoved his face with cookies. The look on your face seemed lighter, you appeared more at ease.

Harvey addressed everyone in the room, "Alright, pack it up. Time to go home."

As he spoke, his eyes lingered on you, and he added pointedly, "Especially you. Y/N. No arguments this time, I am taking you home."

Your colleagues exchanged knowing glances, and Rachel and Mike gathered their things to leave. Harvey's directive made it clear that there was no room for negotiation this time; he was taking you home.

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The plush interior of Harvey's car surrounded you, and you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place in the luxurious vehicle. Harvey, however, seemed at ease as he turned to you and casually asked, "Put your location in the GPS."

You entered your apartment complex as the destination. The ride continued in relative quiet,

You were now three blocks away from your apartment complex, when Harvey abruptly took a sharp left. Confused, you turned to him with a puzzled expression, questioning his unexpected turn.

"Harvey, where the hell are you going?" you asked.

He glanced at you, a twinkle in his eyes, and replied, "We both deserve to have some fun tonight."

You saw him pulling up to a bar, one that seemed too classy for you. You were too undressed for this. The doubt clouded your mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and you couldn't help but ask, "A bar, Harvey, really?"

He looked over at you, the corner of his lips quirked up. "What do you say?" He was parked but hadn't turned off the engine, giving you an out.

You looked over at him and he had that stupid, handsome smug smirk on his.

Not wanting the "what ifs" to take over, you met his gaze and said, "I'm in."

#harvey specter #harvey specter x reader #harvey specter x you #suits #suits tv #suits usa #harvey specter fanfic #donna paulsen #mike ross #Pearson Hardman #Pearson Specter #Jessica Pearson #louis litt #rachel zane

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thesparklingwriter · 6 months

Text

just one drink

"...the night I met you, the stars were like, totally wonky."

tags: pet names, gn!reader, established relationship, reader is drunk, zhongli is doing his best not to laugh (another repost sorry guys)

content warning: alcohol

ao3 link | taglist | masterlist | next

It was just one drink. Or maybe it was two. In all honesty, you can’t really remember. You don’t drink very often, maybe once a year, once every two years if the situation so calls for it. But that also lends itself to a ridiculously low alcohol tolerance. So low, that in fact, one drink already has you stumbling around like a crazy person.

At first, Zhongli finds it amusing, the way you giggle so sweetly at everything he says, the way you run your hands through his hair with giddy laughter. You kiss his cheek, not caring about the fact that the rest of the dinner table-which consists of archons and adepti who have all had years to cultivate their alcohol tolerance-are watching you.

And then, the hyper giggling dissipates and you slump against him, resting your head against his shoulder as you think about the state of your life as it stands. Zhongli asks if you want to go home, but you shake your head fervently, not wanting to ruin his night. So he lets you rest your head in his lap and plant kisses on his hands if ever they linger too close to your face.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go home, my love?” He asks, looking down at you with an amused sparkle in his eyes.

“Li,” you sigh. “Why is the sky blue?”

Zhongli looks at you, chuckling softly. “Why is the jade yellow and the grass green?” He replies, the tenderness in his tone causing the rest of the table to watch with disinterested curiosity. It’s not every day that Morax, the god of war and contracts, can be find talking so sweetly to anyone on Teyvat or the realm above.

You sit up and scowl at him. “That doesn’t answer anything. I’m going home.” As you rise to your feet, you wobble, and Zhongli shoots up, ready to catch you if you should fall. He gives a sharp look at Venti, who told you the drink that has you plastered was basically water, and graciously says goodbye to everyone else as he helps you home.

By the time you’ve made it out of the door of the restaurant, you’ve gotten your footing again, and can happily skip around the streets of Liyue. The harbour is rarely ever empty, but today, it seems that most other people are at home, and you’re free to prance around as you wish.

“Do you think dragons can speak?” You ask Zhongli, returning back to him after spinning around for a few minutes. “I don’t think their vocal chords would be in the right place.”

“You’d be correct,” Zhongli says, smiling at you. He opens his mouth to explain how dragons communicate, but you’re off again, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at some silk flowers in someone’s courtyard. You crouch down to look at the flowers in more detail, lose your balance, and find yourself on the floor with no intention to get back up.

“They’re so pretty,” You say wistfully, tears bunching up in your eyes. “I wish I were a silk flower.”

“You wish to be a silk flower? I wouldn’t associate you with those–”

“Can you help me get up, please?” You look at Zhongli with round eyes, silently pleading for him to take pity on you. “It’s your fault I’m this drunk. You could, at the very least, help me.”

Zhongli sighs tenderly, lifting you up into his arms as if you were just wed, smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck. He’s more than happy to carry you home if that’s what’s going to get you there the fastest.

“Li,” you whisper against his chest.

“Yes, love?”

“Do you think people are destined to be with each other? Like, do you think that stars align and an eclipse happens and then boom! Soulmates.”

Zhongli chuckles. “I believe everything happens for a reason, yes. So, the stars must have aligned when I met you.”

“That’s a trick question. The night I met you, the stars were like, totally wonky.”

“Were they?” Zhongli enquires, laughing softly to himself. "How curious." But you’re fast asleep in his arms already, his laughter not registering to you. He carries you home, enjoying the fact that you’re allowing him to take care of you without complaint or physical antagonism. You smile in your sleep as he sets you down in bed, kissing your forehead lightly, gently grabbing his arm as he moves to step away.

“Where are you going?” You whine, attempting to sit up, but evidently being too sleepy to do so successfully. “Don’t go anywhere. Stay…here.” You point a finger at him accusingly, but the action is weak and makes him laugh. He shouldn’t laugh at you or your current turmoil, but how can he not when you just look so adorable? Every once in a while, it's nice to be reminded that you need him as much as he needs you, that he is just as valuable to you as you are to him.

“I’m not going anywhere, my love,” He says quietly. “Just changing.”

“Whose grand idea were clothes anyway?” You huff, rolling over in bed. “They’re uncomfortable and expensive and some are soooo ugly. They should be…illegal.”

“Yes, love, I agree.” Zhongli chuckles, stroking your hair as he sits in bed beside you. You move closer to him, nuzzling into his side.

“You’re such a yes-man sometimes, Li. Do you always say yes to everything everyone tells you to do?”

“No, only to you.”

You smile sleepily, throwing your arms around him unceremoniously. “You’re such a lap dog sometimes too.”

“And you can be incredibly bossy,” He smiles. “Seeing as I don’t wish to become seven inches shorter in my sleep, my only viable option is to be your lapdog until the day death calls my name.”

“That sounds nice.” You grin. "Do that."

notes: okay so i had this idea cause my friends were talking about going out and getting wasted and i don't drink, but i have been told that when i drink monster (one time) i act like im drunk so this was inspired by that

taglist: removed as this is a repost

(coloured accounts couldn't be tagged)

#tswzhongliflufftober #zhongli #genshin impact #zhongli fluff #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #fanfiction #zhongli fanfic #zhongli flufftober #flufftober #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fan fiction #genshin fan fiction #genshin zhongli #zhongli genshin x reader #zhongli genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader

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callsign-relic · 7 months

Note

May I please as for continuation of the Yan!Megatron with the human liason from the POV of Tarn who's watching in consternation as his boss is bringing his new "pet" abord and ordering their accoutrements loaded onto Peaceful Tyranny.

Tarn's an asshole and I enjoy seeing him disquieted. And Megatron with pet squishy.

Oooo this was an interesting request, from a new POV! I’m happy you enjoyed the last piece enough to ask for a sequel :D for those who haven’t read it, you can read part 1 here! All that aside, I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: SFW, Yandere, GN!Human!Reader

Tarn was… conflicted.

The moment he caught you in his sights, wriggling within his lord’s grasp as he approached the ship, his first instinct was to end your pitiful existence right there.

“Sir,” he had told his commander, aiming his arm cannon in your direction, “allow me to rid you of the pest who has so rudely decided to cling to you.”

But then, Megatron’s own servo blocked your view— blocked Tarn’s target. “That will not be necessary,” he replied, voice low and calm. “They will be here to stay. They’re mine.”

And while Megatron stepped away without another word, the sounds of your futile objections echoed in Tarn’s audials. The commander couldn’t make sense of it— Megatron, leader of the Decepticons, keeping an organic as a pet? What use could that possibly have?

So, he decided to wait. Wait and watch as his lord doted on his new pet.

Most times, you were perched high atop Megatron’s shoulder. Despite your visible discomfort— the way you shuffled as far as you could from the warlord’s helm, only for him to gently push you back near it— Megatron seemed more worried when you weren’t there. If you weren’t on his shoulder, then you were cupped within a single, massive servo, digits curled in just so as you wouldn’t run the risk of falling. With his free hand always rubbing at your head or your back or, when Megatron was feeling particularly affectionate, squishing the sickenly soft flesh of your torso or cheeks between two digits over and over again.

Fine. This was fine. Tarn had to assure himself of that fact time and time again, no matter how much his distaste for organics told him this was so, so wrong. Even as your tiny human belongings were brought upon the ship, Tarn thought that if at least he didn’t go out of his way to speak or look at you, he could live with this. Surely.

Down in one of the many halls of the Peaceful Tyranny, Tarn feels an itch at his pedes. He didn’t think much of it, simply casting it aside as a glitch in his nervecircuits for Nickel to examine later, though that should have been the first sign that something was wrong. After a moment, the itch comes again, and with a hiss Tarn finally looks down—

And locks eyes with you.

“You—?!”

“Shh!” You quickly hush him before he can speak. “I know this is going to sound crazy but I already tried talking to everyone else here and no one wanted to help me and believe me you’re the last person who I’d ask for help from and— AAHH—“

Tarn didn’t want to strain his audials more with struggling to hear you down there than hearing your grating little voice already did. With the ends of two claws, he bends down and lifts you by the scruff of your clothes, dangling your tiny form before his faceplate.

While you couldn’t much tell his expression past his mask bearing the Decepticon brand, you could tell the commander was not happy.

“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” you raise your hands in placation, and when the mech doesn’t reply, you take it as your cue to continue. “I’ll cut to the chase— I don’t want to be here. And I’m well aware that, besides Megatron, no one else really wants me here either. So, that’s something we’re in agreement upon. If we could work together only for the amount of time it takes me to get me off this ship and back to the Lost Light, we would be doing both of ourselves a favor. I can’t get out of here on my own, so please—“

“Tarn?”

A commanding voice booms down the hallway, and both of your heads snap to attention as you look towards the source of the call. Megatron was entering through the sliding doors, heaving an audible sigh of relief as he locks eyes with you.

“There you are,” he says, and as he approaches he offers his hands out below where Tarn was dangling you. Without a moment’s hesitation, the purple mech drops you, and you land on your bottom into the warlord’s palms. “I thought I had lost you,” he coos, before gazing back at Tarn. “Where did you find them?”

Tarn opens his intake to answer, before he catches you staring at him. You almost look at him pleadingly— begging for mercy from a Decepticon. He stares back for only a moment before resetting his vocalizer and addressing his superior. “They were merely wandering the halls, sir. They must have gotten lost.”

Placing you upon his shoulder once more, Megatron nods. “I see. I suppose I must keep a better optic on you, then.” You offer a nervous laugh, hoping the warlord didn’t expect a bigger reply. To your relief, he carries on. “Let me know if this happens again, Tarn.” Then, without another word, he exits the way he came— and you turn to look at Tarn for as long as you can before the sliding doors shut behind you.

And as the mech is left alone in the hall, he stews in his thoughts. Conspiring with a fleshling was the last thing he wanted to do, and disobeying a command from Megatron was worse, but… if it meant ridding the ship of your presence, and perhaps returning his lord back to normal…

Perhaps he would consider it.

#relic writes #Transformers #Transformers x reader #reader insert #Transformers MTMTE #mtmte #more than meets the eye #MTMTE x reader #Transformers lost light #lost light #lost light x reader #yandere Megatron #yandere Megatron x reader #Megatron x reader #MTMTE Megatron x reader

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 month

Text

Ligyrophobia

Moon Boys (Jake focused) x Mama!Reader (Feat. Khonshu and Victoria!)

TW/CW: fluff!

A/N: This just popped into my head because i suffer from this as well and God damn it I needed fluffy Khonshu

Note: This ties into my mini-miniseries, "Small Surprises". Just a drabble on Khonshu's tough bitchy exterior chipping away because Victoria is adorable and he's secretly a big ass softie

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

It was a dreary day. Another storm sweeping over London, blotting out the sun's rays behind the angry dark clouds.

You and Jake had run out to gather things to make for dinner, and Victoria didn't want to venture out with you. She had a bit of a fever and a sniffle, and you were hesitant to leave her behind.

You and Jake were flabbergasted when Khonshu had offered to babysit her.

Jake was hesitant to leave your precious child alone with him, but... even he had to concede the point when you told him that as a protector of the innocent, he would never hurt Victoria.

He had sneaking suspicions that something else was going on with you in particular, as even Steven was far more protective of you than usual.

But... here he is now, with your sickly daughter who sniffled and rubbed at her eye as she huddled beneath her desk, her plush scarab clutched against her chest as though it could ward off the booming thunder from outside.

The power had blinked out, so the flat was dark, only the dim light from outside provided any illumination, which seemed to frighten the child more.

He kneeled down, peering at her.

"You can come out. It's only thunder." He said, trying to keep his tone gentle and quiet. She was a child after all, and it was natural for children to fear things outside of their control, and things they did not yet understand. Especially children like Victoria (and Steven).

Victoria shook her head and cried softly, burying her face in the stuffed toy, her feet curling and rubbing together again, and again as she rocked back and forth, noises bubbling up beneath her tiny sobs.

"Little one--" Khonshu's voice was cut off when a loud crack of thunder shook the flat.

He looked towards the window to see the heavy rain pelting the glass with loud patters, the wind shaking the glass.

This was a bad one, he couldn't help but wonder what triggered this.

His head snapped back to look at Victoria when she hiccuped and began wailing, rocking back and forth, her breathing so quick and ragged he was afraid she would faint.

Her face messed and streaked with... ugh.

But... he couldn't deny something inside of him tugged at the sight of her so tiny and helpless, afraid of what her little psyche could possibly label as some sort of monster outside her home.

Khonshu sighed and reached down, his voice low and soft.

"Come here, little one." He says gently, his large hands curling around her tiny body and pulling her out from her hiding place.

He wasn't surprised when she squirmed and cried, trying to get free to go back to her "safe place". He let her flail, to fight him, until he sat back, cross-legged and cradled her against his body.

She sniffled, her breathing broken up by little sobs as she finally relented, body tense as Khonshu held her, his robes flowing around the two of them, creating a buffer between Victoria and the storm outside.

She snuggled against him instinctively, drawn in by the warmth he exuded, but still made little noises and groans as the thunder roared outside.

Khonshu cradled her back with his hand and pressed her a little tighter against his chest, feeling her rub her cheek on his robes and bandages in a manner similar to how she would stroke her cheek on you or one of your lovers.

"Hush." He murmurs softly, petting her curly hair in an effort to calm her. "You are safe."

She didn't respond. She didn't usually talk when she was having a meltdown, often only rocked and made odd sounds in an attempt to work off her frightened or nervous energy; and it was difficult to break through to her mentally when she was like this.

Khonshu sighed.

And then... began humming.

It was a small melody, but one he remembered well. Hathor would often pluck her harp and sing it to him before he was sent into exile. He remembered being present during the feasts and festivals in her honor, her followers often sang the same song and performed it in the streets.

His deep, vibrating voice seemed to soothe her, little bit little, judging by how she relaxed against him, the tension in her body loosening as he gently rocked her, humming the heavenly song to her.

While this moment was happening, however, he didn't notice the monitor in the corner, the little red light blinking.

He did not know that it automatically switched to battery mode when the cord was disconnected or the power was switched off.

🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑🌑

Jake squinted at the bottles of vitamins, trying to figure out why one bottle was more expensive than the other when their ingredients were the same.

"Ay, paying for brands is so fucking stupid." He growled, ignoring the weary looks from people as he cursed in Spanish.

He plucked a bottle of the shelves and held it up, clearing his throat so the pregnant young lady next to him would look.

"I don't mean to be rude or anything...." He said awkwardly. "But which bottle of these is better? Would you say?"

The young woman seemed a little nervous at first, until she spotted the bottle on question, and realized he was looking at the same shelf of vitamins she was.

Her left hand rubbed her belly as she shyly took the bottle from his fingers, turning it over, and looking at the facts on the back of the bottle.

"Oh! For these, you can just get generic. They have the same stuff and are cheaper." She chirps.

Jake sighs with relief as he replaced the bottle with the recommended one. "Sí, that is exactly what I was saying."

"You're.... shopping for someone?" She asked.

"Ah... Yeah." He laughed a little stiffly, dropping the bottle in the basket he clenched in his fist.

"My fiancé."

"Aw... how far along is she? Er--I mean, I don't mean to assume, I was taking prenatals before I got pregnant just for the health benefits, uh..." She floundered.

Jake flashed her a charming grin, his beard creasing around his plush lips. "She's due sometime in the summer. Only found out a week or two ago."

"Oh! Congratulations!" She smiled, relaxing a bit.

"Gracias," Jake chuckled. "Our little girl is going to be excited--we hope--when we tell her."

"Aww... I hope everything works out for you guys." She giggled, grabbing a bottle of vitamin gummies for herself as well. "Well, maybe see you around!" She chirped once more before cutely waddling away.

Jake grinned again, he couldn't wait to see you waddle like that. Like a cute little penguin.

"Jake! Jake!" You panted, apparently having run with the shopping trolley just to find him. The panicked edge in your tone had him immediately on alert.

"What's wrong? What is it?" He asked, dropping his basket in the trolley to hold your arms in his palms.

"The power's out at home." You heaved, holding up your phone.

He felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck. Did something happen? Was Victoria all right? Did Khonshu do something--

"You have to see this." You say, interrupting his thoughts as you swiped your password in, opening the app to the baby monitor. You weren't out of range just yet, as the shop was relatively nearby, and you'd purposefully purchased that expensive monitor because of the large signal range it had.

You turned your phone around, a face-splitting grin on your face as you showed him the most recent clip recorded. The monitor, when you weren't looking at the receiver at your bedside, uploaded clips in five-minute intervals to the app for storage for you to look at later.

Khonshu and Victoria were highlighted plainly in the night vision mode. Victoria was curled up in his lap and Khonshu was... was singing to her. He didn't understand the words he said out loud, assuming it was some ancient language that Steven could only decipher; as his large hands patted her hair and back, rocking and soothing her like one would do for a baby.

"....See? Who was right? Told you she'd be fine with him." You grin slyly, a hand over your ear, awaiting the inevitable.

"Okay, okay, mierda." Jake ran a hand through his curls, shaking his head at you. "You were right. Maybe the old bird is... coming around."

"Victoria has a way of charming everyone." You giggle, looking at the recording with a glimmer in your eyes.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, his hands resting on your belly, thumbs tracing your soft curves beneath your shirt.

"Yeah, well... I'm willing to bet her sibling will have the same charm."

#moon knight #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #khonshu #khonshu moon knight

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Note

hello!! could you write with aemond where he introduces the reader to vhaegar and he takes her riding?

*rubs hands together* alright my lovely Anons, I cooked up something that includes all of the above ^.^

Masterlist here

Aemond x pregnant!reader | I serve you all the fluffs

You were trembling, and you knew your husband could feel the shaking in your hands as you gripped his leather-clad elbow like a vice.

“Y/N.” Aemond soothed, petting your hair with his free hand. “She won’t eat you; this I promise.”

You were walking together in the predawn light, down the sloping hills outside King’s Landing, where Aemond knew his dragon took up residence, being too big for the Dragon Pit. Your belly was round with his child, and Aemond had taken great care in leading you along the rugged terrain.

Already you could make out the massive form of the drowsing dragon, curled up on the wide beach. You balked, jerking Aemond back with you, running a nervous hand along the curve of your abdomen. Aemond’s gaze was drawn to where you caressed, his face softening to that honeyed expression he only wore in your presence…a sort of reverence. He turned toward you fully, placing his hands around your baby bump, bowing to place a soft kiss there. Long silver hair spilled over his shoulders as he straightened, placing his lips to yours, gently tracing your jaw.

“Vhagar will know you carry my child. I look forward to her reaction upon seeing you.” He took your hand encouragingly once more. “There is nothing to fear, my fire.”

Upon hearing the familiar nickname your husband had given you, a smile tugged at your lips. With renewed bravery, and a dose of curiosity, you allowed Aemond to lead you down the hill and onto the sandy beach.

Vhagar marked your approach, raising her head, yellow eyes surveying you and Aemond with interest.

“Rytsas, Vhagar!” Aemond’s commanding voice boomed to greet his dragon. “Bisa iksos issa ābrazȳrys.”

Still supporting your swollen belly with one hand, you leaned into Aemond. “What did you just say?” Your voice was a hoarse whisper.

“I greeted her and said you are my wife.” You were very close to the dragon now, craning your neck to look into her eye. Her hot breath washed over you, blowing your hair away from your face in a rush.

“You can touch her.”

“I can…what?”

Aemond chuckled, lifting your hand still interlocked with his, and guiding you forward slowly until you felt the iron scales of Vhagar’s snout under your fingers. Despite yourself, you reveled in the feeling of the dragon’s hide, stroking along the rigid skin. It reminded you of tree bark in a way, and you felt Vhagar press gently against you in return. She made a contented grumble deep in her throat, sounding like a hundred earthquakes, yet a quiet noise for the enormous creature.

“She likes you.” Aemond whispered, tucking his chin into the crook of your shoulder from where he stood behind you. He placed a warm kiss to your neck. “Would you like to ride her?”

Your heart stuttered at the thought of mounting such a great beast. “I am quite content with my feet firmly upon the ground, thank you.”

Aemond tugged you to Vhagar’s side, the dragon’s eyes still upon you, and gestured to the rope ladder that led up to a distant saddle you could just make out upon her back.

You turned to your husband incredulously. “You’re going to make your pregnant wife ride the largest dragon in Westeros?”

He tilted his head at you, a smirk curving his lips. “How many times have you asked me to recount the experience of dragon riding? How often do you give me cheek for not taking you with me?” He gestured behind you to where Vhagar watched. “She has met you; she knows you are mine and carry our child within you. She will be gentle with you, as I desire it.”

The fervor with which he spoke, the violet fire in his eye, spurred you to action. “Don’t let me fall, Aemond.” You warned, placing a foot on the first rung of the ladder and hoisting yourself up.

“Never, my lady.”

Sure enough, Aemond was right beneath you the entire ascent to Vhagar’s back. It was tough work, made more awkward by your pregnant condition. Arms shaking, you made it to the saddle and Aemond was quickly at your side, helping you straddle the leather seat. He tied you securely in place, and slid in behind you, tying the ropes about his own person as well. You felt his arms come about you firmly, his breath tickled your ear. “Say ‘sōvegon’. That means ‘fly’ in Valyrian. ‘Dohaeris’ means ‘serve’, though I doubt you will need to use it.”

You leaned into his warm embrace, shivering slightly in the cool breeze. “How do you get a dragon to breathe fire?”

“Perhaps we will save that for a later date.” Aemond laughed lightly, squeezing your thighs.

Vhagar’s head was so far distant from where you sat, you wondered if she’d be able to hear you. Gathering as much air as possible in your lungs, you shouted, “Sōvegon, Vhagar!” A shifting beneath you, like an island coming out of the sea, caused you to squeal and clutch at Aemond’s hands.

“Once more, tell her to fly.” He prompted, voice loud in your ear as Vhagar got to her feet, stretching her mile-long wings.

“Sōvegon!” Your vocal cords already felt sore, but your shout did the trick.

With lumbering steps, and a great flapping of wings, Vhagar gained speed and launched herself into the clear sky. Birds fled the area in haste as the great dragon soared ever higher, the landscape below growing small beneath you, the Red Keep and surrounding cities looking like mere toys.

A thrilled laugh, sounding crazed even to your own ears, left your chest as the wind whipped about you. You felt Aemond’s arms encircle your belly protectively, holding you and your unborn baby tight. He placed his mouth upon your exposed neck, sucking small kisses down to your shoulder.

You had never felt so free, so wild and yet safe, loved in the arms of your Targaryen husband. You spread your arms wide, mimicking the soaring of the dragon you now rode. The wind breaking across your body, numbing your skin. The rising sun reflected its pink light upon the ocean surface, the sparkling water winking up at you, distant waves lapping at golden shores.

You heard Aemond in your ear, voice straining over the rush of wind. “Tell her ‘Gūrogon īlva lenton’. Take us home.”

You repeated the words, shouting to Vhagar. Aemond laughed, “Not ‘leyton’, my love, ‘lenton’.

You corrected the phrase, and the dragon dipped gently to the left, circling back to where you had started, slowly descending back to earth. Your heart swelled as Vhagar’s feet impacted with the ground once more, you could tell the large creature made a concerted effort to be gentle. Aemond’s words proved true, she did have at least some inclination of your delicate state.

Your husband undid the ties binding you to the dragon saddle, descending before you, offering help when you needed it as you climbed the ladder once more. Your knees shook upon impact with the sand, Aemond’s hands on your waist steadying you as your balance returned.

“That was…unlike anything I could possibly imagine!” You beamed up at him. “How do I say ‘thank you’?”

“Kirimvose.” Aemond released you, lingering behind as you approached Vhagar’s face once more.

You reached out to touch her skin, stroking it, wondering if she was able to even feel you there. “Kirimvose, Vhagar.”

She made the same low rumbling sound, this time softer, in response. You turned and made your way back to Aemond, who stood observing you with a soft smile upon his face.

“Can we stay for a little while, watch the sunrise?” You asked, taking his arm and slowly walking together toward where the water lapped at the beach.

“Of course, Y/N. This day is yours, to do with as you please.” His low voice was sweet as he stopped to gaze at you, drinking in your every expression, the golden light of morning lighting his handsome face.

“Aemond…how do you say ‘I love you’ in Valyrian?”

“Avy jorrāelan.”

“Avy jorrāelan, my dragon.”

He gave you a radiant smile, pulling you to him and kissing you, the taste of salt air fresh on his lips. “And I love you, my fire, my hearth, my home.” He punctuated each affectionate phrase with a kiss to your face. You scrunched your nose at him, giggling as he kissed at the ticklish spot under your jaw.

Behind you, Vhagar made another of her contented noises, rumbling the earth beneath your feet. You and Aemond remained tangled in each other’s arms as the sun rose into the sky, heralding a new day, blessing the small family you had begun with the man who would forever own your heart.

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