#just wait until i watch cruel intentions | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

solbaby7 · 6 months

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Psychological Warfare

pairing: rhysand x reader

warnings: cruel Eris, insinuated methods of torture, taunting, angst, swearing, in depth descriptions of a panic attack, and again angst

summary: The High Lord watches his most fearless soldier shatter to pieces

—

“Just perfect,” You mutter snarkily to Rhysand under your breath, eyes scanning the lavish office and the steadily growing number of High Lords occupying its space.

It was spacious enough to fit the obnoxiously large table in the middle; had an assortment of liquors in their freshly polished bottles and no food.

Intentional, no doubt.

Booze them up and when their guards are low, the intel will flow.

“It won’t take long,” He hums back, hand rubbing soothingly at your thigh under the table and even though it’s clear to him you don’t want to be there—to others your face is the picture of neutrality, almost completely expressionless in your seat.

You ignore the side eyes, the Lords who clutched their wives tighter once clocking that you were in the room too—a vicious soldier that fought in the Night Courts armies, more skilled and bloodthirsty than any other recruit; more calculated and five times as determined as any other able body in those camps. Rhysand had hand picked you, promising you safety, warmth and a family if you’d accepted a position on his personal guard.

That had been nearly two hundred years ago.

One final group walks through, four men with auburn hair and sun-kissed skin and your body goes ramrod straight, quickly regarding Rhys in your head.

Were they invited?

Baron was.

“I see you’ve taken to collecting strays, Rhysand.” Baron’s eldest son jokes, dark eyes taking you in like a wild animal that had been perpetually starved.

“You should mind your tongue before I let her off her leash.”

Your throat immediately closes at the words—they were innocent; meant to be encouraging but the cruel laugh that pulls from Eris’ chest as he lowers into his seat is anything but comforting and you shift in your seat. “Funny you should say that,” Eris continued, practically vibrating in excitement. Fire burned in those brown eyes when he continued, he seemed to barely notice the others who’d been gathered for the meeting as well—watching, waiting with gazes that ping-ponged back and forth between you.

“Don’t.” You breathe out and for once everyone raises a brow at your tone, shock evident at the cracks beginning to emerge quickly in your fearless facade. The wide eyes, the slight wobble of your chin and that raw scent of genuine fear fills the room.

“I don’t know,” Eris drawls out, one leg crossing over the other and it could just be your vision but you’re certain you notice the lights in the room glowing just a hair brighter but it might as well have been a thousand degrees with the sweat beading at your hairline. “Everyone’s interest is now piqued, I’d be a terrible guest if I left them hanging.”

Your hands are shaking now and the look Rhysand sends you is enough to have your head bowing in embarrassment. His mouth opens to say something, probably to mention how you’d completely shut off access to whatever was going on in your head; how all your High Lord could see was tall, thick walls lined in barbed wire and heavily reinforced guards that remained stationed at every post—nearly impenetrable.

But, somehow, Eris finds a weak spot.

You try to brace yourself, the eerily cool pinprick of anxiety poking holes all over your body until everything felt like you’d gone numb.

“That’s enough,” Rhys spoke, a hand holding yours tightly under the table, shouting through the bond for you to just tell him what was wrong; what the hell was happening?

Trying to stabilize you, to will soothing words and calm feelings through that same connection but nothing works. One of your legs bounce uncontrollably, teeth gnawing at the insides of your cheeks until you can taste the blood and even then you keep on going.

“She ever tell you about her life before you and the Night Court?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, memories beginning to shove their way to the forefront of your mind after centuries of carefully locking it up and sealing it away. A noise pulls from your throat as you try and fail to regain your composure and a thick tear begins to burn trails down your cheek as Eris’ excitement exuded. “Eris.” It comes out choked, a half-plea but you should’ve known better—the Autumn Court never did do mercy.

You’re heart is racing and you’re sure that any of the high fae in the room can hear exactly how frantic your breathing has become yet you can’t bare to look at their horrified faces—eyes wide and mouths agape in astonishment as the Night Courts fearless warrior broke before them like a child who was denied the comfort of their mother. “She was given to me as a gift,” Your eyes clench shut, one hand digging into the roots of your hair when you feel Rhysand’s fingers tightening around your other. “—her old drunk of a father practically begged me to take her off of his hands.”

You could still smell the stale beer of your father’s breath when he’d dragged you through the streets in nothing but your nightgown and presented you to the High Lord and his heirs.

You’d never forget the way the males stared you down from their thrones, eyes raking in your body like it was nothing more than a new recipe their kitchen servants had come up with. “Please.” You beg, vision so blurry you can barely make out the cruel smile he wore, the burning white of his teeth blinding you like the most scalding parts of a fire. “Stop it.”

“I didn’t have much use for her at first,” Eris shrugged casually, retelling the story with such fond remembrance, glancing over to one of his brothers with a finger pointed. “But then my brothers and I were drinking one night and they jokingly asked if I needed a pet.”

Rhysand snarls at the way the word makes you flinch, eyes frantic and foggy like you were right there again—reliving the humiliation, the fear and disgust that brewed within for not being able to protect yourself. It had been part of the reason you’d trained so hard when you had escaped. Promising to never let any male degrade you in such a way again.

Eris rips at hundreds of years worth of healed scars in seconds, teeth thrashing and blood coating his maw while he tore you apart and exposed you for all to see.

You shrink in your chair and Rhysand’s heart clenched at the way he feels you go distant, staring at Eris but not really seeing the room before you; as if the eldest son of the Autumn Court had weaseled his way inside your head like Rhys could. There’s no explaining the way the air had stilled, High Lords exchanging apprehensive glances, murmuring words to Baron to tell his son to stop but Eris refuses to listen—drunk off the power and high off of your pain.

You can feel wetness on your face, your hands; it’s seeping through your pants and you can’t quite understand why. Not when Eris has his claws sunk deep within, waving the red flag bloodied with all of your secrets for all to observe. Like a show in the amphitheater, trapped in your own mind you relive every moment, deep sobs racking your body so badly the table shook with your emotion. Rhysand is beginning to gather you, shaping dark magic around your body so no one can see or hear you but the magic doesn’t hold, you’re too unstable—emotions too high and powers brewing on overdrive as it reacted to your distress. “I can’t breathe.”

Eris ignores your struggle, the way you are clearly drowning and fighting with all your might stay afloat but he keeps dragging you back down and genuine happiness is glowing on his skin at your reaction. “Spent all week mulling it over but I was walking through town and saw this display in a window,” He lets out a little chuckle, leaning in closer with fingers tapping casually against the mahogany wood, preening when you shrink away from him. “—a collar and a leash and it just hits me. My little pet. Come on, tell me you remember me putting it on you for the first time.”

Rhysand takes a more aggressive approach, protective nature on overdrive as you sob so hard you barely have time to suck in more air. Your hands are clawing at your throat, nails digging in, drawing blood and Rhys’ head whips back, double checking that Eris really hadn’t been using a daemati but when he looks into your mind—the towering walls inside are no more.

Rubble and glass is scattered everywhere in thick chunks like it’d been torn apart from the inside out, the plumes of smoke is scratchy in Rhys’ lungs but he keeps forward and right in the middle; covered in rags and bruises, ribs showing and cheeks gaunt, lashes and burns that covered more than it didn’t—was you.

With that damn collar around your throat.

“Don’t be like that, Rhysand,” Eris cackles in the background but it sounds like he’s doing it right in your ear. Your cheeks are red with your own blood and when Rhysand goes to help you stand, you’re putty in his hands. “I hadn’t even gotten to the fun part yet!” There are soft words, a palm cradling the back of your head as the High Lord of the Night Court picked you up and winnowed you away.

—

Azriel is waiting in the foyer when Rhysand returns with you in his arms, still sobbing but he’s calmed you enough to stop the scratching. Thick, angry lines assault your neck, blood pouring free and the moment he’d conjured up and illusion for your mind of you breaking free of that collar and burning it forever, did you stop fighting.

“What happened?” The shadow singer hissed, clearing the space between them and when his hand hovers over you, inches away from touching, another deep cry pulls through. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Rhysand snaps back with equal intensity, violet eyes blazing with anger and deep, unsettling worry as you clutched so tight on his shirt he was sure it’d rip. “Call the madja, right now!”

Rhysand urges away a worried Elaine but eventually stops fighting it when you seem to calm in her presence. Falling into action easily, Elaine followed close beside, dress swishing against the glossy floors while humming some soothing tune that had your sobs settling into broken hiccups and soft whimpers. Mor seems to appear out of nowhere, face firm and gaze hot when she regards her cousin and it takes no more than a second before you’ve been transferred into her hold. Nesta falls in tow, already equipped with thick blankets and steaming tea. “Just go,” Mor huffs out, her hands raking through your hair as she leads you to your room. “We’ve got her.”

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand #rhysand angst #nesta archeron #azriel #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #eris vanserra #send asks #acotar

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naffeclipse · 8 days

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So about Devil eyes au… i wanna ask about Sun and Moon. How did Officer YN meet them? How are the relationship and interactions between them? They’re such pookies and ngl Officer YN feels like an angel with their morals and such. Show em boys kindness 🫶

even if we also have the devil himself on the side

(i heard that you talked about how they met in an ask but i couldnt find it at all 😔)

How they meet is currently something I'm mulling over. While I can't give you the exact context, I can say when they meet, it's a bit stressful for everyone.

Officer Y/N is introduced to Sun and Moon, the brothers of the serial killer who's been terrorizing you for a while now, and you are wary, to say the least. You expect more of Eclipse, just packaged in yellows and blues. You are terrified that they're just as wicked and cunning and that they'll want to torment you as much as Eclipse does.

Likewise, Sun and Moon are afraid of you. They are floored when Eclipse brings a cop to them. They can only see you actively trying to apprehend them or gather forces who will do so. Humans for them have only been horrible and terrifying, and to boot, you're an authority figure who has the power to put them right back where they escape.

But Sun and Moon are not Eclipse. And you are not turning them in despite being wanted animatronics who fled their establishment.

Sun is the least skittish out of the two. He has had his fair share of awful encounters with humans, but he still has a little spark of hope that there's good somewhere, and he finds that in you. At first, Sun is walking on eggshells around you and exceedingly polite, desperate to keep you appeased and calm, but slowly, he starts to ease slightly when you bring him watercolors to paint with. He says something that might upset a human but you respond in a steady, calm voice. He feels you start to grow upon him like a climbing flower and he lets himself become comfortable around you, trusting your intentions. He has been searching for the light for so long, and there you are, sunshine.

Moon has walls up (including a moat with crocodiles). He has seen the worst of humans and understands their wrath to be a cruel and blunt weapon, and he expects no less from you. He's a ghost on the edges of your peripheral, always keeping to corners and shadows, becoming invisible if he can. He sometimes startles you with how silent he can be, how he watches you like he's waiting for a gun to go off. He's rarely truly relaxed but he speaks more to you when he sees you're tired and less likely to react. He doesn't tell you this, but he looks forward to when you bring him a new record to listen to and you sit quietly beside him, nodding along to the tunes. He doesn't want to open up but he feels you slip inside the way water trickles into the cracks of stone.

You don't want to believe their sincerity. They are just as unknown and potentially dangerous as Eclipse, and you can see their love and loyalty to their brother, but you struggle to be careful when they're so sweet to you. You're used to devilish eyes following you and dark threats made against you that you almost fall apart when Sun asks if you would like a hand with cleaning the dishes or Moon offers to sit on the edge of your bed until you fall asleep after a nightmare. They don't take, they don't command, and they don't scare you. And that terrifies you. Is this just their way of toying with you? Is this how they worm their way into your head until you can't walk down the street without fearing they're somewhere close by? You don't know, but you do know that Moon's shoulder is a nice place to rest your head and Sun is a comforting voice among your whispering doubts.

There's going to be time to get closer to each other. You can offer a kind hand that Sun and Moon haven't seen in a really long time and in return, Sun and Moon can become a safe harbor in the storm that is their brother.

#devil eyes #officer!reader #nightyelean

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lethalchiralium · 1 year

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Cruel Intentions | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: …so this is a thing that’s literally so old. BETA’D BY MY LOVELY @as-is-above-so-below

song: Cruel Intentions by Delacey & G-Eazy

LYRICS FROM SONG USED!

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. mentions of ex-boyfriend john price, you and ghost are toxic, mentions of breeding kink/mentions of pregnancy. SMUT. car sex, fingering (f receiving). NSFW UNDER THE CUT. MDNI.

summary: After another shitty break up with your on and off boyfriend Captain John Price, you always seem to find yourself in the comfort of his Lieutenant’s car - and letting him do whatever he pleases.

I like sex, I like flowers, I like attention.

“You look good tonight.”

Don't ever put me second.

Hands settled on the door, and you peered into his familiar black Trans Am, nails tapped against the inside. “You say that every time.”

“Fine; would you like me to just say what I would if I wasn’t restraining myself?”

You chuckled, questioning going back into your apartment but you said, “Tell me.”

“Get in the car, baby, and I’ll tell you.”

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good this side of Heaven. So stop talking, pull my stockings down,

It wasn’t long before his hand danced up your thigh, under your skirt, and it wasn’t long before you were biting your lip, the feeling of digits inside of you made you already more attentive to your boy toy turned benefit. A hand on the steering wheel and the other massaged you, the small purrs from your pretty lips made him smile.

“Don’t waste your pretty little voice ‘til we get there.” He spoke with an almost bored tone in his beautiful accent, but you knew he was living in how he touched you; how he got you so high without holding a flame to anything.

“Fuck, Ghost, stop talking,”

You're my cruel intention.

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good, this side of, this side of, this side of Heaven.

He giggled and slowed his pace, the rings that sat at the base of his fingers now collided with your skin, warm to the touch and soaked in you. Did that matter? No, not to Ghost. “So good for me, always good for me.”

“Couldn’t you wait until we get there?” Your left hand grabbed his thigh, the right held onto his forearm as he kept going deeper. You bit your tongue and he laughed.

“What can I say? I am a man of taste,” he purred as the car slowed down at an empty stop light. You never worried about someone looking in; the windows were tinted and Ghost drove fast on nights like these. “It’s not like I could’ve; in that outfit, fuck, I jus’ wanna shred it.”

Uh, think you got me, but the problem is

I'm already hip but I see the play I just been watching this,

His fingers curled and your breath hitched in your throat, clutching his thigh as your head hit the headrest. You bit your tongue, trying not to give him the satisfaction of what he wanted to hear if he didn’t follow your clear directions - don’t drive and fuck me.

Well, it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing; missed him after a week and sucked his dick as he drove you back to his place. He fucked you good that night, and was the reason why you didn’t look at anyone else. You wouldn’t look at anyone else. He showed his love physically by fucking you better than he did last time.

Happy to see the way you call me everyday, it's obvious, plus it's 2AM you know what time it is, you just wanna have me come and chase you, boost your confidence

His hand became a little faster and you had to grip his thigh even harder to stop yourself from moaning; you couldn’t give him that satisfaction of breaking the one rule you had. You could see his smirk in the corner of your eye and your right hand slid from his forearm down to his wrist, forcing him to go knuckle deep into you. He grunted in annoyance and his thumb flicked your clit, a shaky breath escaped your lips and his smirk turned into a smile. Your eyes glared at him, seeing how his other hand curled around the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles were white - the way his eyes were half-lidded as he watched the road.

“Come on babe, moan my name and I might fuck you good tonight.”

Shower you with flowers, give you all these daily compliments, yeah, careful if you fall in love, then it's gon' be a consequence.

“Fuck you.” You whispered and his hand stopped completely, your head rolled to the side, looking at your boy toy with an annoyed glare. His fingers curled inside of you and you almost purred, you were almost there. A few more moments of his fast and curling fingers made your head hit the headrest and groan, the first orgasm in the car of the night.

His canines shined in the dark and he retracted his hand, the addicting feeling was now gone and you were left high and not so dry. “If you’re gonna play hard to get, it’s only gonna be worse for you.” You groaned as you watched his fingers disappear into his mouth, sucking and licking all of your juices off of him. His tongue flicked around his rings and that’s when your hand let go of his wrist to make its way down to replace what he had taken away; but his almost clean hand grabbed yours. He took only a moment to look at you, saying, “Don’t.” His hand brought yours to his lips, kissing the back of it as you saw how the lights from the city were long gone.

We keep going - it's no turning back, it ain't no stopping us, Had you at “Hi. What's your name?" Burning in a flame, a little fling you turn into a game, and since we started fucking, it's never been the same,

Your eyes trailed to his face, a smile on your face as he kissed your hand again. His eyes glanced away as the car turned and slowed to a stop at a hidden cliff, showing the lights of LA. He kept the keys in the ignition as his eyes looked at you, glassy and knowing what he was going to see. A pretty little thing, one he gets to watch beg for him to make her choke on his cock.

The idea of stopping? I can't even entertain, you driving me insane, craziest I met. Drinking champagne, we started fucking on a jet, took you to the mile high, then we start to sweat,

I got you in a bag but you still play hard to get.

His hand let go of you and unbuckled both of you as your own hands grabbed his hair, crashing his lips to yours. Your body pressed into his chest and his hands grabbed your head, deepening the kiss so that way his tongue could taste you again; his drug. Your nails scratched his scalp and his tongue stuttered for a moment, you didn’t even notice. He pulled away for a moment, and your eyes opened and met his as he spoke, “Get in the fucking back.”

Yeah, when you over this is light work, love that when you put them heel ons with that tight skirt,

You both got out and pulled back the seats, allowing Lieutenant Simon Riley to sit down in the back, his legs spread out and his hands unbuckling his belt as he watched you in that skirt and the heels he loved to see you in. He licked his lips as his hands abandoned his pants and grabbed your hips, pulling your skirt down, and revealing his favorite pair of panties that made your ass look damn good. He smiled wide as you awkwardly stepped out of the skirt before he pulled you onto his lap. Your hands grabbed for the black tie around his neck, his hands gripped your ass. You glanced up at him as you began to untie it from his neck.

“Baby,” he whispered as his fingers found your warm hand, his eyes flicked up to your eyes, you were focused on that tie but his hand interlocked with yours. You looked down at him and he smiled, eyes twinkling as he spoke, “You really are beautiful, Y/N.”

You sat back on his legs and rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“At least I tell you more than Price ever did.”

You leaned forward a little as his other hand rested on your cheek. “You fuck me more than he ever did.”

He chuckled and your hands then sat on his jaw. “Better than he ever will.” And he was right - even with the on-and-off relationship with his best friend, you were always coming back to Simon like a dog. Of course, when you let Captain John Price kiss your feet and say sorry, you wouldn’t dare text his Lieutenant - you’d never cheat on him when you were together officially. The arguments only get harder to deal with, harder to see him leave for so long after saying horrible things and breaking it off, again. It only ever drove you back into the tattooed clutch of Price’s lap dog, fucking out the anger and hurt of your broken relationship.

Simon’s eyes sparkled and his hands rested on your thighs, gentle yet it still sent electricity through your body. “Do you want me to show you how much better I can get?”

Sleeping over almost every night, wake up in my shirt, if we make it official, I think maybe this can might work

Your ex-boyfriend’s best friend gripped your thighs and you went to work on his tie, quickly throwing it off of him as his fingers gripped your panties, he loved that set but he didn’t care; a rip sounded and you yelped, looking back to him as he tossed the ripped piece of fabric to his side. “Si!” He giggled as his lips connected to your neck, teeth pushing into your skin as his hands pulled your legs even farther apart. “That hurt, you know how much I spent on that?”

“‘M sorry, baby.” He mumbled as your hands made quick work of tossing his belt to the side and unbuttoning his nice dress pants. A touch to his crotch and he gripped your legs tighter, chewing on your neck harder made you whine. Your hands stopped fucking with his pants and carded into his blond hair, pressing a kiss to it.

Fuck the heavy shit, tho' we living in this moment, it's not even mine but I treat it like I own it

“You sure John still doesn’t know?” You whispered. He looked up at you with a sweet smile.

“He doesn’t even know I own a car in the States.” You giggled at that and his hands clawed at the bottom of your shirt. “Fuckin’ his off and on again girlfriend anytime while he can barely even keep up with his sleep schedule.”

He slid the shirt off your body and quickly raised his hips, tugging down his pants while you sat up on her knees - your head knocked against the roof of the car. His eyes trailed down your body then flicked back up to meet yours again.

Six missed calls, but ain't tripping, where your phone went? Ain't thinking bout that now, nothing matters now, got you so wet

Your hands settled on his shoulders as you slowly slid down his cock, he groaned as your nails scratched up his shoulders to his scalp, happy that he decided to ditch the mask again. “You’re so-“ he groaned as you finally bottomed out and he loudly panted, “tight tonight.”

“Shut up and let me fuck you.” You spoke and a hand slid down his head to his neck, pressing in your fingers to slow his oxygen intake. The man’s body buzzed with adrenaline; it’s been a few months since you had ridden him and it was the best orgasm of his life. To date, at least.

You rose up and Ghost moaned, missing the gentle touch of your thighs connecting with his but craved how slow you started to go. His hands crawled to your hips and you grunted in distaste. “Don’t make me tie you up, sweetheart.”

That turned him all the way on. His hands pulled you up and down, making you gasp loudly but after a few slow motions of your pussy up and down his cock, your hand on his throat jumped to his cheek. “Hands off.”

Ghost loved you like this, his hands moved away from your shirt and to the headrests in the back, pressing his arms against them hard enough to resist the intense emotion to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk.

Light a couple candles in the room, pop some Moet, every single night I'm tryna go but we ain't go yet

Your hand moved back to his throat and your other hand dipped into his button down, as you began to rise again. Rise all the way up and off of him, touching his tip with your clit before going back down at an agonizingly slow pace to him but amazing to you. Being filled so well and the pain felt miles away while you kept going, slowly and Ghost was going to lose it if you didn’t pick up the pace. The faster you went, the faster he could reach that climax he only reached with you. The mind-numbing stimulation made stars in his vision for hours after.

“Pick it up, love,” he grunted as you slid back down his dick, starting to reach your second orgasm.

“I’m not- Fuck, I’m done with him,” you answered as the hand that was ghosting over his skin moved to your nipple, rubbing it between your fingers.

“Oh god,” he panted as his hands gripped the headrests. “Don’t tell me that, might ask Price to help me fuck you, love.”

You finally began to pace faster and you both groaned, low and high both blended to create a melody of love, whether you knew it or not. “God, I don’t think I can handle that, your dick is big enough- Fuck!” His hips thrust upwards and he hit the one place only he was able to, causing you to falter in your rhythm.

His right hand left the headrest and went right for your hair, your pace grew faster. “Fucking bitch- I- if I-“You slammed your hips down and grew double times faster, his hips began to roll as you kept going, faster and faster making him whine. “Fuck- fuck- God,”

“You just really like this, don’t you?” You purred as your high was so close, and as soon as he thrust his hips again, your eyes rolled back into your head, keeping your pace as you whimpered, “Like sitting here and getting fucked?” Your hands disappeared from your own body to lean forwards, placing your elbows on the top of the seats to hear the delicious moans coming from him.

“Yes-“ he began but your teeth skidded down his neck and that’s when his hands abandoned their place, grabbing onto your hips and pushing his cock even deeper into you.

Finishes, she clenches like she ain't ready to go yet. Yeah, I mean you crazy and you know that, yeah crazier than me, keep on playing mind games, I ain't got time for that shit, it gives me migraines

You let out a tangled cry, your sweet spot getting hit faster since your skin met together harder, Ghost groaned when he heard you. “C’mon, baby, fuck me,” he spoke and you tried to go faster, sloppy but it didn’t matter cause his hips met yours every time. “I got you.”

A myriad of moans and whines came from your mouth as the blinding white feeling of another orgasm hit you like a punch, your hands grabbed his hair and pulled his head back with that strength. “God, Ghost-“

“Say my name,” he whined as the growing pressure in his stomach began to make him want to fucking lay you down and fuck you so right, but God, his cock felt so good in her right now. He wouldn’t dare move from your body pressed to his, riding him like it was your last day alive.

“Simon,” You breathed and he smirked, faster thrusts from his hips and there were only broken gasps that came from your lips. The sound of his skin meeting yours over and over was like a melody, one you loved to hear.

Only the realness, it's what's running through my veins, and every time I'm in that, she always screaming my name.

Your stamina was gone, which made him slide your back to lay on the seats, he kept his pace the whole time. Your hands clawed at his shirt, and he groaned again. He went harder the next thrust, hitting your spongy spot and earning another cry of overstimulation from your lips, to which he met them with his own. The dance was one you have done before, deep and full of passion; you shouldn’t be loving each other like this but neither of you couldn’t stop. Addiction is hard to kick.

“I just want to make you mine,” he grunted as he kept going harder and harder; that high was so close but he wanted you to feel so much that you forgot about his best friend. Ghost truly loved you, and he couldn’t say if he wanted you because you were his best friend’s ex-girlfriend or because he was in love with you.

“If-“ You moaned as you could barely even ride your high down as you felt another one begin to bundle in the bottom of your belly. “If you promise to not be everything that hurts me.”

He wished he could’ve closed his eyes and not met your saddened eyes, but he met them with a trustful stare. He removed a hand that had held him up, only to lay it on your cheek as his thrusts began to slow to a stop.

“Y/N, I’ll love you until the end of time.”

“And I can’t hear that again,” You whispered, your hands cradling his face. “Don’t say you love me, this’ll get complicated and I lose everything.”

Ghost’s heart cracked, hearing the rejection with his dick still inside you made everything so much more confusing, but he knew he wasn’t your number one choice. He knew you had to love him, the talks and the time you’ve spent together and the hours you’ve spent getting fucked by each other had to mean something.

Simon knew this was all in his head and he knew he had made an agreement, to pleasure each other mutually without any distractions.

I like sex, I like flowers, I like attention.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered and his hands left your cheek as you winced a little.

There was only a moment of awkward silence before you spoke, “I hope you know that I am not leaving this car until I can’t walk.”

A silent agreement to not talk about it.

“But,” You closed your eyes as your hands roamed his face. “You can’t fucking cum in me, I don’t want to have to explain why I’m pregnant suddenly.”

He chuckled before he started to slow down again. “Just go fuck Price after this, or invite me to a threesome or something.”

You whimpered out a laugh as your stomach began to tighten again. “Then he’d know that you fuck me better and he’d get jealous.”

“He’d know that I would never put you second.”

Don't ever put me second.

His thrusts then became violent, skin slapping against skin like a song and your throat screamed melodies of moans and screams of pleasure. He bit his lip the whole time, trying to hold back his orgasm as he watched you writhe underneath him like a goddess. God, it felt like an eternity for him, watching how your skin moved and how your tongue curled when you orgasmed again.

You hit another orgasm in a record time and it was getting impossible for Ghost to not immediately cum when seeing your half-lidded eyes, he gripped the wall of the car while the other near your head now moved to your neck, squeezing tightly which made a smile appear on your lips as he went hard.

“Fuck, Si, I ca-an’t again,” You whimpered with what little breath you had, “I-I-“

“Come on,” he growled as his hips snapped so quickly you yelped. “Cum on me.”

They snapped again and you cried out, your hands went up to his shoulders, pulling him a little forwards as he finally let go. The feeling of release made him scream out your name, thrusting through his orgasm while you began to ride out your overstimulation. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-“

He stopped abruptly with his whole length in you, balls against your ass and you both panted.

I bet you won't find nothing feels this good this side of Heaven, so stop talking, pull my stockings down,

“Gimme my phone.” He panted and your hand moved to his pants on the car floor, digging around before you finally handed him the black phone. Your eyes closed as he took some deep breaths before making a call.

“Hey, Price.”

You're my cruel intention.

——

968 notes · View notes

mistyresolve · 11 months

Text

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 5)

Word Count - 3.8

Summary - Honestly, there isn’t any plot to this one. Just sex.

Tags/Warnings - 18+ SMUT, Fingering, P in V, Oral, Unprotected sex, Edging, Size kink, Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Slow Burn, Maybe a little bit of angst, Mentions of childhood trauma

A/N - I’m back baby...maybe

Part 1 ❤︎ Part 2 ❤︎ Part 3 ❤︎ Part 3.5 ❤︎ Part 4

Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form

It was just your luck that there was no hot water, and by the time you washed out the soap from your hair, your teeth were chattering uncontrollably. You could have sworn a minute longer and you’d have ice forming on the tips of your lashes. You couldn’t get dressed into your civi clothes fast enough, a thin but warm sweater and a plain pair of sweats. You packed for warmth and practicality, not seducing husky men, and some small bold part of you wished you had.

Simon was already in the barracks waiting for his turn for a shower. His gear was in a neat pile next to the cot, and he had just pulled off his combat shirt when you entered the room.

He truly was all power and strength, all solid muscle and hardened skin. He was built and bred for the battlefield and imbued with cruel intent. The tattoos that travelled from wrist to bicep were stark against his skin. If you stepped outside yourself for a moment you could see why so many men feared to cross his path. Yet, here he stood 15 feet away from you and not a single thought was one of dread. With you, he was softer, calmer. Even his usual rough tone settled into a smokey version of itself. He still carried a dominating edge with him but he never misused it with you.

And…

And you were staring.

He was crouched down at his pack when he finally looked over his shoulder at you. He had removed his mask and he looked just as good as he did when you saw his face earlier. If not better. If that was possible. His dark hair was unruly like he had just woken up from a nap. His face was dirty with a mixture of paint, sweat, dirt, and more likely than not, blood. He was unkept but more in a charming, alluring way.

Oh, you were in deep. He had you wrapped around his finger and he was well aware he had that much sway over you. Still, he would not make a move until you made it very clear and unmistakable what you want from him. He would give you everything and anything you wanted, but not unless you told him.

“There’s no hot water,” you willed the words to sound anything but bothered.

His gaze dripped down your body, watched as your body shivered from the lingering bone-deep chill, “I needed a cold one anyways,” he tossed the dirty combat shirt into his pack and picked up the fresh one. Even in the low light, you could see every dip and angle of his muscles as he bent down.

The summer night air might be warm but it wasn’t warm enough to warrant a cold shower, “Who would take a cold shower on purpose?” you made your way to your own pack, readying to set up your sleeping bag.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he grabbed whatever else he needed from his bag before disappearing into the small shower room. On his way past you, you threw a clean pair of balled-up socks at him, which he unsurprisingly caught before throwing them back at you, “Smarten’ up.”

“I would like to know,” you quipped just before he closed the door. It’s not like you’d die without an answer you just wanted to have the last word. The only reason he let you have it was because he needed to get out of the same room as you as soon as humanly possible. He needed the cold shower to

The cold shower was null once Simon came back out into the room. The moment his eyes locked onto yours, he was just as frustrated and deprived as before. You could practically taste his want from across the room. Could see it in the way he stalked back to his side of the room, his attention locked on you.

He changed into a regular green t-shirt, the colour faded around the seams and fit snugly around his shoulders and chest, and green army-issued sweats. His still-wet hair was pushed back and away from his face.

“You clean up nice,” you tested as you slid into your sleeping bag, your head tilting to the side.

There was a flash of white teeth in the low light, “Keep that mouth of yours shut for me?” his words were more of a plea than an order. He moved to turn off the propane lamps, replacing the light was a singular red light torch which was better for concealment and stealth because it was harder to see from a distance.

“Easy, big boy,” your grin was fiendish, “I’m only making conversation.”

“Yuh huh,” he grunted back at you as he checked the locks on all the doors and windows. The final window was right above your head and after he checked it he crouched down beside you, the torch dangling in his hand between his legs, “You gonna be warm enough?”

“Are you offering to keep me warm, Riley?” you shifted into a kneeling position, and still you didn’t match his height, your knees were almost touching his feet.

His answering smile was wolfish, “I was offering you an extra blanket.”

“And,” you said slowly, “What of you?”

“I’ll be fine,” It was hard to discern whether this desire was coming from someplace genuine or if it was the result of missing him and needing a distraction from today's events. Perhaps it was both. It was evident that he was wondering the same. You could see it in his eyes. The way they turned inquisitive each time you returned his attention. The way he would slow his approach and wait for your response, gauge your reaction.

Your gaze fell to his lips, imagining how they’d feel on yours, on your skin. His grin shifted to something more shy and he looked away, looking into the room's darkness. Another moment watching you and he would have jumped on you like a deprived animal. Which is why you had to take the first move.

Gently you pulled the torch from his grasp, placing it up on the floor beside him. He turned to face you once more. With hands made of air, your fingers drove into his hair. The space between your lips felt too wide and too close at the same time. I felt like time itself was yours, like you were holding it in the palm of your hand, warm and heavy. This moment was well overdue.

It was a whisper of a kiss. A timid gesture that the both of you leaned into. Pressed into. With trembling hands, his fingers curled around your waist, digging into the supple flesh there. The wanton groan that rumbled deep in his chest was gasoline to a fire. Your hands slipped down to the hard muscles of his chest and pushed him back into a sitting position. His free hand caught him just in time to break the fall. You were quick to move into his lap, straddling his hips.

“Woah,” he huffed, the crooked grin returning, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You always have something cheeky to say?” you hummed, hands encircling the back of his neck, running the expanse of his shoulders, his chest.

“I’m working on that,” he leaned back on his hands, allowing you access to all of him.

You lifted his shirt, just enough to sneak your fingers underneath. His skin burned and his muscles twitched beneath your touch, “A rather new development?”

He was all enchanted compliance and keen submission for you, “It’s taken the back seat as of late,” his chest rose and fell rapidly as your hands grazed lower before returning to his chest.

“Never took you for a procrastinator,” Your lips connected with his jaw, trailing lower and lower.

The man underneath you was a complete juxtaposition from the man who prowled the battlefield and lurked in the shadows. Even with everything he was capable of, you felt safe with him. Felt secure. Protected.

“I can’t think when you’re touching me, Darlin’,” When you pulled away his head was tilted back and his eyes were mere slits, foggy with lust.

Right now, he was docile, but you wanted to see him get wicked for you.

You lowered your hips onto his and rolled them. You were met with hard arousal and the compromising heat between your legs shot up your spine and into your throat. There was a synchronized moan that bounced between you and like a knee-jerk reaction a hand was braced at your hips. Your motions quickly turned feverish, both trying to match each other's desperate rhythm. It was all gnashing teeth, open-mouthed kisses, and shared breath.

With shaking fingers you tugged at his shirt, “Off,” you could hardly manage the single syllable. And who was he kidding, the few seconds he had to pull away from you to remove his shirt made him regret ever putting it on.

You paused as you traced the hard tissue of his numerous scars, and wondered which was he acquired during his service and which ones he received from his father. He remained utterly still, even his chest ceased to rise and fall with breath. He was waiting for you to reject him, to recoil from all the imperfections.

You leaned down to press a kiss to one of them, one that looked like it never had time to properly heal. Like the wound was ripped open over and over and over again. Then another kiss to the scar next to it. You couldn’t tell if it was your own heart or if his was so beating so loud you could hear it from where you sat. When you lifted your eyes to him you decided it was probably his you were hearing. His eyes were wide with shock and his swollen lips were parted in awe.

“Simon—”

“I want this,” he gasped, “But if you’re not sure we have to stop now.”

You would have to stop now because it’d kill him if he had to stop later.

Your expression turned sultry and you removed your sweater from your body, revealing nothing but bare, tingling skin, “Be good to me.”

He moved on you like lightning, and with quick practiced maneuvering you were on your back with him cradled between your legs. Gone was the man who let you dominate him a few seconds ago. Calloused hands ran the length of your sides, up to your throat and held you in place. Though he didn’t squeeze your neck hard enough to choke, it was a tight enough grip to let you know that he was in control now. He sucked bruises into the sensitive skin of your collarbone, your chest. His tongue flicked out to lick apologies into the marks he left behind. His teeth scraped against your breast and your breath hitched in anticipation.

But he pulled back, his head tilted to the side, “Since day one,” he murmured before raising himself to a kneel, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his own eyes, “Since the day I met you I’ve wanted you like this,” his heated gaze flicked to your face, your expression no doubt matching his, “Like that,” his voice trailed off and he lowered himself back down to you, “I’ve wanted you…”

His skin against yours wasn’t close enough, it never would be. You needed him like you needed air. Like you needed laughter. You were starving for him. You were starved of him. There wasn’t enough time in the night for you to be rid of this carnal need for him.

His mouth was back on your chest, nipping and sucking at you. You arched your back into his touch in a plea for more. More. More.

His breath caught between his teeth, his fingers lingering on your thigh. With anguished hesitance, he traced the scar and his head dipped to your leg. Your heart was hammering against your rib cage, begging to be let out so it could wrap itself around his. There was no need for words for you to understand what was going through his head right now. The guilt and bitterness that rolled off him heated your skin.

“I thought you were dead.”

You were sure he was talking about when your vehicle blew up with you inside of it, “Me too,” you murmured into the dark room, fingers finding his jaw, guiding him back to looking at you. It was all you could do to offer him a weary smile, “But, I’m not. Because of you.”

The man used his own body as a shield for you, carried you to safety and brought you back from the brink of death. Without him, you weren’t entirely sure if things would have turned out the same. Not that you wanted to think about it in the first place.

His lips parted, his brows furrowing in preparation for an argument. You didn’t give him the chance to make one, bringing him back down to you for an open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue licks at him to open for you, “No more talking, Riley.”

His answering grin was enough for you, his thumbs hooked into the hem of your pants and pulling them until they were on the floor. He hissed at the sight of you, completely naked, before him. Those tortured dark eyes take in every curve and dip of your body. His dopy smile told you all you needed to know about how truthful he was when he said: “Since day one”.

He placed a chaste kiss on your mouth but quickly moved down the length of your body. It was like he couldn’t get between your legs fast enough, his previous hesitation had melted away with the heat you two made.

“Oh,” you gasped as his tongue found your center, licking a languid swipe up. He placed a heavy hand on your chest meant to keep you still, while the other wrapped around your thigh to keep your legs open for him. You cover the hand over your chest with your own, squeezing and digging your nails in as he licked and sucked at you. You rolled your hips into him, legs curled around his shoulders and panting in desperation. He flattened his tongue against you, and you could feel your arousal and slick leak from you. Eyes squeezed shut and throat constricting with a moan.

You were fiendish for him. You’ve been with men and women before, had both good and bad sex, but this…this was different. This was a release. Within seconds he had you at the edge, but he didn’t let you fall. Instead, he kept you there teetering back and forth.

He added a single thick finger, tracing the outline of your cunt before pushing it inside you. His mouth never stopped working at you, circling your clit. His digits curled inside you in perfect rhythm with your own motions. He was following the lead of your body, listening to the sounds you made and each reaction.

Another finger stretched you, and your legs instinctively closed around his head at the feel of them pressing into your G-spot.

“Ohmygod,” you tossed your head back, arching into his touch. You were shaking and twisting in his arms, your climax was right there.

His fingers left you feeling empty, his arms forcing your legs from his head. You were spread out, soaking, and aching beneath him. Annoyance and discomfort bubbled up into your throat, “You fucking–” you started only to be cut off when he dove back into you, his wet tongue exploring the inside of your mouth.

No more talking.

He didn’t need to say the words. He pulled back only far enough to pull his cock out from his pants. You had your fantasies and imagination to guess the size of him but whatever you would have come up with wouldn’t have compared. For a second you contemplated backing out. He was going to split you in half. You swallowed, the arousal between your legs becoming unbearable.

You needed him. Now.

“I’ll be slow with you,” he huffed, his eyes following yours. He wrapped a hand around himself, making long, slow strokes. Precum beaded at the head. Any other day you’d take your time licking that up for him.

Words betrayed you and it was all you could do to nod at him.

“I need to hear you say it, darlin',” he groaned, his entire body quaking with deprivation.

You dipped your fingers to your core, dragging the slick across your stomach, “Please, fuck me, Simon.”

His answering moan was beyond seductive. He rocked into your cunt, wetting himself on your arousal. Back and forth. Back and forth. Sliding across your pussy, pausing where he would have bottomed out if he were inside you. The tip of him reached your belly button and you slid your fingers up the slit at the head of his cock. He jolted, pulling back ever so slightly. Then he lined himself up with your opening. He pushed just the tip in, stopping there to allow you time to adjust. Pulling out. Pushing in a little further. Pulling out.

You wrapped your leg around him, forcing him in all the way. He swore at the sensation of you being around him. You bit down on your lip to keep from crying out. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and the stretch burned.

“You okay?” he immediately cupped your face in his hands, eyes searching your face.

With an experimental movement of your hips, you managed, “Just move. Just move.”

Simon heeded your plea, drawing out before sliding back in. You could almost feel him in your throat, you felt so full of him. You had to time your breath to match his rhythm, if only so his reentry wouldn’t knock the air from your lungs. He leaned down to you, his arms on either side of your head. With every stroke, you could feel him hit your cervix, and every time it elicited a crude moan from you.

“Atta girl, you’re taking me so well,” his gaze burned at where you two connected, watching himself disappear and reappear. You pushed his dark hair back from his face, wanting to see every micro-expression he made. His attention whipped back to you, a roughish smile spreading across his lips, “You’re so beautiful.”

His speed picked up, his breath catching with every pump. You felt your climax swell up again and you clamped down around him. He licked a stripe up the column of your throat, placed burning kisses up the curve of your jaw, and sucked welts into the sensitive skin on your neck. Sweat beaded on your chest like the firey heat inside your core was making it’s way to your skin.

He wrapped his arm underneath you, arching you further into him. His large hands encircled your waist, pulling you into his cock. The angle was too perfect. Your eyes rolled and it made you see stars. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream, the absolute ecstasy ripped any sort of coherent word from your tongue.

His thumb came to rub fast tight circles on your clit, ushering you to your orgasm. You twisted in his grasp, writhing at the sensation. It was too much and not enough. He was too much and not enough.

“Cum for me, baby girl. Show me how good I make you feel,” his slightly pained expression revealed his own proximity to his ruin. He’s been waiting for this moment since the moment you met and he’s been on edge around you the entire time. He was struggling to keep himself railing you into the floor. Until there was nothing left but tears and whimpers. He wouldn’t do that to you. Not yet. You needed more time to get used to him. You needed time to memorize the shape and size of him.

The band he pulled taut inside you finally snapped and your body stiffened. Your orgasm crashed into you so hard that you forgot your name. There was only one thing on your mind and it was him, the feeling of him. The sound that came out of you was one of crazed bliss and pleasure. Your body developed a mind of its own and you tried pushing his fingers away from you, the stimulation quickly becoming too much for you to handle.

He shifted his position, one hand holding your legs around his hips and the other supporting his weight, fingers gripping at your loose hair. He leaned down, burying his face in your neck. His breath was warm on your skin, sending tingles all the way down your legs. You clawed at his back, nails leaving behind angry red lines. He relished in the pain. Prayed whatever marks you left on him would never heal over. He would keep coming back to you for more. He was inside you and still, he felt like he needed you closer. He needed you under his skin. In his lungs. The mere thought of you made him half wild. His relentless pace never allowed you the time to recover from your last climax as another rose from the depths.

He murmured sweetly in your skin, “One more.”

Like the words were gospel, you obeyed them. Tightening around his length you came again. His own release followed, pulling out the last possible second. With a strangled moan, his hot cum covered your stomach and dripped down the sides of your thighs.

The two of you stayed like that, entangled in each other, fighting for breath. He placed a tender kiss on your jaw, then another on your mouth, “You feel way better than I imagined you would.”

You grinned at him, “You think about fucking me a lot?”

“Only every time I jerk off,” he leaned back on his heels, his eyes devouring you, “I think about you all the time actually…” he tilted his head to the side, “and not just about how good you taste,” using his discarded shirt he began to clean up the mess you two made. Wiping all the fluids and cum from your body. He was so gentle with you. So delicate. Like he was afraid that if he spoke too loud or moved too fast you turn into dust. Blow away with the breeze.

You sat back up, bringing his face back to yours, “Shower?” Your hair was still damp from the last one you took, but circumstances called for it.

His face seemed to light up at the invitation, and his eyes darkened with mischief.

Masterlist

A/N - Just recovering from a minor surgery my bad for the delay

Tag List

General - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @meaganjean ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @mymommy ❤︎ @mychrysanthemum ❤︎

His Foresight - @marytvirgin ❤︎ @stickygumchewer ❤︎ @lauraliisa ❤︎ @jungcoccc ❤︎ @lovelyladymayyyy ❤︎ @lululandd ❤︎ @chrissyfishywissy ❤︎ @naxxsstuff ❤︎ @sididakra-jo ❤︎ @yukisawer ❤︎ @q8852p ❤︎ @kat-nee ❤︎ @meganoreid ❤︎ @thewoodenarcade ❤︎ @kaghost ❤︎ @shadowcldx ❤︎ @aquarose38 ❤︎ @xheera ❤︎ @unsatisfiedanddisappointed ❤︎ @okayyadriana

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simon-sehs · 3 months

Text

proud (18+) pt 2

tags / cw: f!reader, fluff, (bare bones) smut, praise kink, alcohol mention, happy ending, marriage mention, birth mention, baby mention

You should have expected it, really.

Even though you were pissed at him, Ghost was once again the protagonist of your wildest dreams.

And man, were they wild…

You woke hours later, around nighttime, pent up and horny. This time, you didn’t bother with the self relief. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of being in your mind, even if the cruel reality was just you leaving yourself out to dry.

With a sigh, you dug out the bottle of whiskey you had hidden in your dresser for a rainy day and made your way to the roof for drinking and contemplating. Maybe you weren’t cut out for the task force. Or… maybe Ghost was just a fucking prick who needed a good punch. Either way, you found yourself with no answers beneath the stars.

And then you heard the door to the roof open.

Fuck.

“You know you’re not supposed to be up here, soldier.”

You didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. “Sorry…” you said weakly. You felt pathetic, like a kicked mutt.

Ghost sighed and sat down next to you. You tensed. What the fuck was happening? And then he reached a hand out for your bottle. Well, it was fun while it lasted. But instead of confiscating it, he pulled up his mask, taking a long swig before setting it down. Fuck, his lips are so pretty.

“How did you know I was up here?” You asked.

“I came by your room and found it empty. Checked the CCTV footage and traced your steps.”

“…Oh.”

Silence settled over you two. Until…

He cleared his throat and sighed. “You were right. I'm sorry.”

“…Wait, what?” You asked, confused.

“Thing is… I am proud of you. It’s why I push you so hard... harder than I should. I don’t show it well.” He took another drink.

You sat there, dumbfounded. This wasn’t happening. Was he actually… apologizing?

He must have seen your face and sighed. “Look, I’m not heartless. I may not be the most caring lieutenant, but… I care.”

Your face softened. Okay, now he was… starting to make some sense. You wanted to stay mad at him, but your stupid little crush had you folding like a house of cards. Or maybe it was the alcohol. “You do, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head, though. We’re not supposed to even be up here.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“And I mean what I said. I’m proud of you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you. I’m proud of you.

You could feel wetness coating your underwear, still suffering from your earlier budding arousal. Oh, fuck.

You reached for the bottle of whiskey at the same time he did, fingers grazing against each other. You both pulled back instinctively. You met his gaze, and found yourself lacking for breath once more. His stare was intense, and it was… hungry. Wanting.

You couldn’t help but wonder if you were still dreaming, because the next moments were a blur. Your lips on his—or did he initiate it?—his hands cupping your jaw, while yours caressed his neck. You found yourself laying down there on the roof, as his lips worshipped your skin, his words appraising you…

“So fuckin’ beautiful, so strong… you don’t understand how proud you make us… me…”

You moaned and his eyes flickered to yours, the gears spinning in his mind. “You live for it, don’t you? The praise… begging for everyone to know just what a good girl you are…”

Oh, fuck.

“S-Simon…” You moaned, before a soft yelp left your lips due to the sensation of his big fingers against your folds.

He rubbed along the curvature, before pulling away and staring at his fingers. Even in the dark, and at this distance, you could see the light from the nearby flood-lamps shining off of the discharge on his fingers.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked.” He groaned.

You watched intently as he slowly sucked his fingers, before grabbing the whiskey and taking a swig to chase it down.

He made you come with his fingers. Then his tongue. And then like a dream come true, he was stuffing his dick into you.

“Fuuuck, that’s it baby… takin’ me so well… c’mon, let me in some more, love…”

His thumb stroked your clit, making you twitch and flutter around his cock as he pushed further in.

“Ahh, Jesus…” you moaned.

The bastard chuckled before leaning in to whisper. “I prefer Simon…”

If this was another of your wet dreams, you didn’t want to wake up. You found solace in the fact that a billion stars were bearing witness to this moment of you getting fucked lovingly. His face in your neck, his hands scrambling to grope every inch of your body…

No, this was much better than a dream.

You don’t hear the phrase again until years later. You’re in a hospital bed, body aching and swimming from medicinal drugs.

“I’m proud of you, love…”

You almost don’t hear them at first, too busy staring at the infant boy in your arms. After a second, you glanced up, meeting your husband’s brown eyes, so full of love and warmth… for your son… and for you.

[part one] [part two]

taglist: @the-pan-liquid

#simon riley #cod #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #THIS PACING IS SH*T SORRY #my writing

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niningtori · 3 months

Text

to know him is to love him, and i do | chapter three: i'm not all bad, right?

pairing(s): choi beomgyu x you, kang taehyun x you

summary: you love beomgyu more than anything. you just wish he loved you, too. or you finally break up with beomgyu and move on, but as for him? maybe he's starting to realize too little too late.

genre: romance, angst, angst with a happy ending (?)

word count: 2.1k

notes: hi friends! i don't have much to say this time around besides the fact that i just want to thank user zzhyuu for helping me edit this (´∀｀)♡

if you were to ask beomgyu if he loved his ex mere months ago, he'd say he didn't know for sure, but probably. they ended things rather messily, which seems to be a trend for him, but if he really thinks about it, he doesn't know what he liked about her after all. if he had to pinpoint it, he liked the thrill of the chase and the idea of never knowing how explosive things would inevitably get between the two of them. he liked the toxicity. he liked the idea of breaking somebody and being broken in return. only now does he understand that that wasn't love at all, but some sort of sick game of hurting and being hurt he doesn't — he can't — play anymore. he doesn't want to hurt the people around him any longer, especially not you, but it would appear that that sentiment has presented itself a little too late.

there's always been a lot to love about you. always. you're so kind and so incredibly patient, at least with the people you love. you're thoughtful and intentional with your words and actions. you're not perfect, but you try your best to be a good and fair person. and you listen. like, really listen. the kind of listening where you're not just waiting for your turn to talk, but the kind where you genuinely want to know what the other person has to say. even if he didn't know it at the time, beomgyu always did love you. was it in the way you deserved? obviously, with the way things are now, it's perfectly clear that it was not.

even if he does bump into you, it's completely pointless. you made it perfectly clear that you want nothing to do with him anymore. the last thing you said to him echoes in his head with an unspeakable viciousness. "i'm sorry you feel that way." he didn't realize just how cruel those words were until they were falling from your lips instead of his. he didn't realize just how cruel he was in general.

he ponders over how succinctly you summed up your entire dynamic: "i don't understand why i have to explain basic human emotion to you and i really don't understand why i have to beg and plead for you to care about how i feel!" to be honest? he doesn't understand why you had to do that, either.

contrary to what one might suppose about him given his overall shitty personality, he had actually had a pretty good go at life. he was innately able to make the world sit and watch him go, and he wouldn't let anyone forget it. but what should he do since you don't want to watch him anymore? what should he do since you don't want anything to do with him anymore?

as he sits in the extremely uncomfortable chair of his new least favorite bar, he's confronted by this truth over and over again. he's not completely sure why he's even here — he hates this place, but he remembers you mentioning you liked to come here. in hindsight, there's no doubt that that was a way to hint that you'd like to come with him, but what use is it to recognize it now, after all this time?

not much, apparently. or at least that's what his conscience is telling him. he should leave, he thinks. he should stop coming here every night hoping he'll run into you because it's wrong to make you uncomfortable when you've said in no uncertain terms that you don't want him anymore. he should, he should, he should. and he will, really. in just a minute. that's what he tells himself, but he just watches the door as he drinks himself dry.

he's on the brink of literally passing out when he hears a sound he'd recognize anywhere: your laugh. he actually thinks he's hallucinating just because he wants to hear it so fucking badly, but it takes the sound of your voice to convince him it's real. you're actually here. he's incredibly drunk, so the idea of being tactful escapes him. he can't miss this chance.

you try, and try, and try some more, but you can't seem to forget beomgyu's last words to you. he loves you? you scoff at the idea. does he even know what love is? it doesn't feel like it. truly, it doesn't. if that's what his love feels like, you'd rather not feel it at all.

that's what you keep trying to hammer into your head along with the idea that you're doing well. and you are doing well. seriously. things with taehyun are better than ever and you can really see yourself building a life with him. everything feels so pure and brand new. your feelings for him may lack the intensity that you felt with beomgyu, but you had known him for years. it's only fair that you nurture the love that's blossoming between the two of you while smothering out the embers of what used to be with beomgyu. it's only right, right? it should be, but the way you're so torn makes your brain hurt.

so you decide to go to your favorite bar and forget about everything for the night. it's been a long while since you've let loose and you're excited. you're surrounded by your friends and you're ready to let go. it's only when you excuse yourself to get some fresh air that you realize fate has other plans.

when you're walking to the curb to take a seat, you feel a tug on your elbow and whip around. if there's some creep trying to get with you, there will be hell to pay.

"who the f—" you stop dead in your tracks as your eyes meet with beomgyu's misty ones. the ones you used to love so much.

"hey," he says weakly.

"what do you want?" you ask venomously while harshly yanking your elbow from his grasp. his lips purse and even in the dim lighting outside of the bar, you can see his eyes water even more. he's always been such a baby when he's drunk.

"i just wanna talk," he pleads. he sounds so out of it and looks so pathetic you almost feel bad for him. almost.

"i have nothing to say to you," you reply coldly.

"but i do." he sounds desperate to a degree that you sincerely never thought you'd hear.

"what, are you gonna tell me you love me again?" you retort with a roll of your eyes. you're obviously being sarcastic, but all he can think in his drunken state is how pretty your eyes shine, even when they're impatient to look away from him.

"if you're not gonna say anything, i'm leaving —" you snap, turning away, but beomgyu is awoken from his daze and gently pulls you back.

"n-no! i mean, yes. i love you, b-but that's not what i wanted to say."

"well, what did you want to say?" you ask, tone laced with annoyance. seeing that you'll actually give him a chance to hear him out, he scrambles to pull out his phone. you're confused for a few seconds before he pulls up his notes app and you see an alarmingly huge chunk of text. what the fuck?

"i-i wrote this for you," he says tremblingly — so anxious that the hand that holds his phone is visibly shaking. you cock your eyebrow when he clears his throat and begins.

"i was so, so inconsiderate of how you felt, and didn’t treat you with a lot of respect as a person, let alone as a partner. i didn't understand how hurt you would be by the things i did or didn't do. in a way, i still don't think i understand just how fully how i treated you affected you. especially when you were so hurt by me. especially when you’d hold onto those feelings for so long, whether you wanted to hold them or not. it's unbelievable to me that you stayed with me for as long as you did, a-and it’s a testament to your willpower, your resolve, and how much you really do — or did — love me. i don’t think i ever appreciated your love like i do now. i... i don’t know if i appreciate it fully even as i write this.

when i last saw you, i thought you were being cruel, but looking back, i can’t blame you. i can only admire you for not being worse, actually. roles reversed, i definitely would have been. i-i'm starting to understand how you must have felt, and why you probably want me to feel how you felt in the past. i know you think i am the one who owes you, and i do. i really owe you a lot. i owe you more than you ever asked me for.

so i want to make it up to you. i really do. and i'm hoping that i can really change. i'm – i just miss you so much i can't stand it anymore. i-if you don’t feel the same way, or don’t care, or however it is, i understand. but i meant it when i said i love you, and i mean it now when i say that i'm so, so incredibly sorry," his voice cracks as he finishes and hot tears threaten to find their way down his face.

"beomgyu..." you begin, not really sure what to say. what can you say? and any hope he has of being with you is almost extinguished when he sees how much you pity him in this moment, but he'll hold on for as long as you'll let him.

"you said you saw the real me. you know i'm not all bad, right? i'm a piece of shit, but i can't be all bad," he pleads, tears now streaming unabashedly from his eyes. maybe if he can just find the right words, you won't leave him.

"beomgyu," you sigh, "i've never thought that about you. i know you're not all bad," his face perks up at this and he's tempted to bury his face in your neck and sob in pure relief. the pain he's been feeling for the past few months is about to be over because you understand him. always have. even though he's like this, you can still see the good in him. just the thought alone is enough to fill him with pure ecstasy. he goes to close the distance between the two of you to pull you into his embrace, but you gently place your hand on his chest before he can come any closer.

"thank you for telling me how you feel, beomgyu, but if you think you can fix everything with a few words from your notes app, you're delusional." his face crumbles at this and a sense of panic and dread pools in his stomach.

"w-what? b-but you said —"

"i know you're sorry and i know you'd probably try to make it up to me if i let you, but that's not enough. you really hurt me, okay? and it's just, you know, i'm finally happy now. and i have taehyun. i really like him, beomgyu. and he really likes me," you say with a fond smile, as if you're thinking of taehyun right now, and his heart shatters into a million pieces. the former him would probably be throwing a tantrum right now, but he said he'd change for you, so he says what you'd never expect him to.

"it's okay," he smiles bitterly, tears still flowing freely. "i... i understand. i just want you to be happy. i want you to be so happy. you deserve it."

"but..."

"go back in," he sniffs. "you don't need to stay here with me anymore." he swipes at his eyes with his sleeve and tries to send you off with a smile, but it's so forlorn you wish he'd just keep frowning.

"... okay." you turn away, and even though he told you to do it, he can't help but feel an even bigger lump in his throat now that you're actually listening to him.

"beomgyu?" you say softly, before you enter the door.

his damned heart can't help but flutter again against his will.

"yes?"

"don't wait for me anymore, okay?" how are you so cruel but so merciful at the same time? he should say okay, but the ugly and selfish part of him refuses to lie, so he just shakes his head and waves you off. his love is ugly and his heart is broken, but it's still yours to have.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs again to nobody but himself as you enter the bar.

notes pt. 2: the next chapter will be the final chapter. it will probably be relatively short, so keep that in mind. anyway, feedback is always appreciated :)

masterlist

#niningtori #to know him is to love him and i do #txt angst #beomgyu #txt beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu fic #txt #txt fic #tomorrow x together #toxic!beomgyu #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios

167 notes · View notes

femzai · 9 months

Note

dazai fingering chuuya

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

“ see you in the hall like "hello, hello!" / up against the wall like "let's go, let's go!" ”

NSFW WARNING

tags ㅤᵕ̈ – fingering ofc, cooter having chuuya, spit kink >_>, me being silly lowkey

gee i wonder who requested this!? ^_^ ; (nikolai your sick and twisted and delusional but its okay i support you and your freaky endeavors!)

omgomg this time dazai is just dazai!! how surprising!??? and chuuya has a cooter becuz that man is not CIS sorry not sorry chat ♥︎ (he/him dazai, he/it chuuya btw!!)

word count — 1,164 words

“So cute.. aren’t you?”

Dazai held Chuuya’s face, looking at him intently. “You’re face is super flushed..” He muttered, head moving to kiss Chuuya’s neck. Biting and sucking at any piece of skin he can see, biting even harder whenever he hears a moan from the ginger. Moving one hand to grab Chuuya’s neck, and the other to gripped his waist.

“You asshole…” He gasped out, clinging onto Dazai’s coat. His legs spread apart from Dazai’s knee being right between him, rutting against his pant leg. “Fuck–” Chuuya whimpered, thoughts getting hazy each second. To think, poor Chuuya would be against his own wall, being kissed and toyed with by someone he hates. His grinding got more and more desperate, closely reaching its little climax just by humping. “You don’t know when to wait, do you?” Dazai sighed, frowning a bit upset at Chuuya’s neediness.

He hummed, moving his legs away from between Chuuyas. Its legs were shaking, and the denial of cumming was too much for him. “You… ASSHOLE..” He groaned out, contemplating whether or not he should throw out his dignity just to cum. “Aw.. Don’t worry..” He cooed, kissing Chuuya on the cheek. His hands slowly made their way to Chuuya’s thighs, grabbing his ass a little before picking him up.

Dazai walked him to the bedroom as fast as possible, tossing it onto the bed once there. It wasn’t long until Dazai was on right on top of him, holding his hips down and kissing. Practically spit on spit, purposefully as sloppy as humanely possible. Dazai made quick work of himself, removing his coat and unbuttoning his shirt. Throwing it somewhere that will be a pain to find tomorrow, but who cares right now? He moved his knee to tease Chuuya’s cunt through its pants, smiling a little as he heard his quiet moans.

“..Like some help, Chuu? I promise I’m good.”

He replaced his knee with his hand, rubbing through the fabric tauntingly. He shifted to move behind Chuuya, pulling the ginger to sit up between his legs. On the other hand, Chuuya let it happen. Quietly moaning while leaning into his chest more, hand covering his mouth. Dazai pressed down a finger onto Chuuya’s pants, hands knowing where his clit was and circling it quickly. Kissing and whispering sweet nothings into its ear, quickening his pace. “Do you want more..?” He panted, running his hands along the seam of Chuuya’s pants.

“ ‘Course you do, right? I’ll be nice to you this time, hm?” He began to hum, moving in to kiss more around Chuuys’s neck. Meanwhile, his rough hands busied themselves and unzipped Chuuya’s pants for him. Watching Chuuya kick them off desperately, taking off his boxers too in the process.

“Just.. get this over with, cunt..” He whispered, with gloved hands reaching to hold onto the fabric of Dazai’z pants. “Calling me names, already? How cruel are you?” “Only the worst–” Chuuya gasped loudly, being cut off by the feeling of rough fingers already circling its clit. Not a word could be said from the poor redhead anymore, holding onto anything it could while his clit was overtaking his senses. Dazai moved his other hand towards him, spitting on it as much as he could, before using it to mess with Chuuya’s folds; making it slicker with his spit and his pussy juices. He pouted, kissing Chuuya’s ear, and getting off to his bitchy moans.

Lord, was Dazai’s dick was getting even more harder by the second; the sounds Chuuya’s pussy made.. he just wanted to hear more thats for sure. After a while of teasing him, he decided to finally give Chuuya what he wanted but wouldn’t admit. He circled its hole for a little, listening intently to how Chuuya whined. Then, he put two fingers in with no hesitation, going in and out as fast as possible without a warning.

“Fuck! Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck!?” The feeling of both fingers immediately in him caught him off guard, with his back arched closer to Dazai. Speaking of Dazai, his hands worked overtime. One circling the gingers clit and the other with his fingers ramming into it. It was impossible for Chuuya to not close his legs, squeezing them as tight as he could to the sensation. “tsk, Don’t close your legs!” Dazai quickly grabbed onto his thighs, holding it back to give him room to work with while fingering him.

Chuuya was pushing its hips more onto Dazai’s hand, whining. His back arched, and his hands clawing onto anything it could grab. Dazai stopped for a second, feeling Chuuya shudder at the sudden pause. “Hold on, Chuuya..” He smiled, leaning over and spitting onto his pussy.

“..You’re fucking disgusting…” “Are you complaining?” “….Of course not.”

Dazai kissed the top of Chuuya’s head before slamming his fingers back in, smiling stupidly as he snuck a third in. Continuing to keep the same pace he had earlier, if not more sloppier. “..So.. fuckin’.. stuffed…” Chuuya whined, drool leaving his mouth. “Hm? You like that Chuuya?” He laughed, at this point Dazai was stupidly hard. He’s been rutting his clothed cock against Chuuya’s back without it knowing, hiding it behind his rough finger fucking. Chuuya’s needy whines were music to Dazai’s ears, mesmerized by him entirely.

Dazai picked up the speed quickly, seeing the familiar twitch whenever Chuuya was always so close. He whispered out more and more praises mixed with insults against its ear, just to get him to cum faster. He can’t always give Chuuya just praises during sex; the whore really needs to understand its little predicament. However, Chuuya now is just a poor, stupid, whimpering mess unable to even speak. It took Chuuya a few more seconds until he started to cum, shaking and giving a final loud whine.

Dazai waited until Chuuya stopped shuddering, carefully pulling out his cum covered fingers from inside of it. Dazai stared at his fingers, feigning curiosity. He waved his fingers around for a little, until he placed all three of his fingers in front of Chuuya. “Clean them.” That was all Chuuya needed to hear before lazily opening his mouth. Allowing Dazai’s fingers to be shoved into it before he started to suck. Its vision was refocusing as he cleaned off his own cum with his mouth, making sure to keep his tongue beneath all three fingers. Dazai moved his hand once he felt satisfied with Chuuya’s work, re-examining his hand and everything.

“..So what were you saying about me being gross?”

“..Shut… up.”

Dazai sighed, frowning dramatically while moving his hands hug Chuuya. The ginger didn’t fight this, sighing himself before try and calm down. They stayed like that for a moment, being in each other's presence until Dazai broke the silence. “…How about we do some more?” Chuuya scoffed upon hearing that, moving away from Dazai before turning to face him. “…I’m going to permanently shut you the fuck up.”

“I’m looking forward to it, Chuuya!”

a/n – smut. scares me sometimes. and this is one of those times LMFAOOO

362 notes · View notes

alastorsfuckassbob · 4 months

Text

Vulnerable

Alastor x Fem!Reader- Part 3

WELCOME TO THE LOWKEY FAN SERVICEY PORTION OF OUR BROADCAST🗣️! Sorry for the long wait..uh ANYWAY- Its just a silly little steamy make out session I felt like writing lowkey unnecessarily added into the plot. Its character development This is done mostly on the grounds of I felt bad for being slow with the plot and wanted to give you radio demon lovers out there some crumbs.<3

✨The plot✨(these are getting worse as we go)

Our depressed dear y/n self deprecates in front of a "hang in there" kitten poster. before bitching about the cold on her walk home.Oh shit her house is broken into. In this life its just you and your shitty pocket knife. Nvm its a cool dress! She then spends a good half hour thinking about their old relationship's spicy times.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-Mentions of domestic violence

-Mentions of alcohol

-Fuckass Val

-A little make-out sesh (smut is scary so you can use your little imagination to figure out what happens after)

Mornings in hell were colder than one might expect, despite the nearly constant blaze of sinner set fire. At its heart, Hell was frigidly cold, especially at night. A part of you had gotten used to the way it clawed deeply against your skin. However, the other part of you secretly begged to some god somewhere you didn't quite believe in to make the sun rise a little faster. It wasn't necessary by any means, Hell wasn't anything more than a desert. All you had to do was wait. The crisp morning would lose its glacial influence as the sunlight reached out to touch it just as it always did. You just needed to be patient. You take in a deep breath, attempting to let go of your displeasure.The sharp frosty air pierced your lungs, unknitting the last strings of warmth from your skin on impact. Your teeth began to chatter. You curl into the softness of your wings, it wasn't much, but it helped.

From your recently awakened slumber, you had briefly forgotten the events of the night before. However, upon seeing angel slumped in bed beside from you, the realisation took root. The recollection flattened your heart like a careless truck running over a measly stray bit of garbage

Your performance last night was nothing more than a falsified forgery. It was adorned with the typical strokes and details found in your normal act, but it was so hopelessly fake. Valentino could always tell when you were phoning it in. Despite his fraudulent demeanour, he demanded authenticity from you. After your previous..altercation, you just didn't have it in you to thread your harsh edges in salacious intent. You were an excellent dancer, but you hated the prying eyes that glued themselves onto your figure. Val wouldn't be happy with that. You were already voiceless, he already owned your soul. He couldn't physically take much more, but he could still make your life a relentless nightmare. The punishments he so easily gave out always had a creatively cruel flair. The thoughts brought on a familiar uneasiness. You could take whatever he threw at you, you wouldn't like it but you would endure. You didn't have to like it. Your grounds were barren in the terms of genuine will. You didn't have a reason to keep living, you just refused to die. You would endure until the red toned city around you pathetically crumbled back into the ground. You would watch the world you lived in reflect the terms of your anguish in twisted perfection over and over again...All by the hands of Valentino. You couldn't do much else. Your dimly lit soul had grown more accustomed to calloused hands and absinthe than you wanted to admit..It was just the way of things.

Great now you were cold and stressed out.

Your mind drifted to Angel. His crumpled hair and soft arms outstretched in your direction. The night before, he had spilled a glass of gin soaked secrets, revealing more than you expected him to. His drunken tears leaked into the brimstone walls of your heart. You learned his name was Anthony in life among other things. He probably didn't remember opening up to you, you were surprised you did.

He had been in Hell much longer than you had been..he had been with Valentino much longer than you had..years longer. The thought held more pain than your sore bruise lined body could feel.

Valentino had the poor habit of misguiding his frustration. As much as you pissed him off, your groans of pain just weren't as satisfying as Angels. Even if Val dragged your limp body across the studio, his nails dug deeply into the flesh of your skull, he wouldn't be satisfied if he didn't hurt Angel too. You couldn't help but wonder how he put up with it all. He was a lot stronger than people give him credit for. How long had Angel been his favourite toy? How many other souls tied to Valentino fucked up as you so often did? How did he deal with the brunt of that frustration tipped in his direction? How many times was he hurt because you didn't give Val what he wanted?

He was an angry disagreeable man he would always find some excuse to take that out on others.You knew that, you just hadn't stopped to think how many times had you been the excuse he used to justify how he treated Angel. Your hand brushed a stray strand of hair from his peaceful face. You didn't want to cause him any more pain.

Angel at least looked warm. He still slept soundly curled up towards the edge of the bed. His legs were neatly cocooned into a pile of various blankets. You stretched, shaking the sleep from your eyes and the fog from your brain.

You stood up glancing back on his sleeping form. A part of you felt bad for leaving Angel wordlessly.. His night wasn't great either, even if it was your fault, you could still help make it better. You could also make it worse. You couldn't risk that. He would get over your sudden absence, but what if you said the wrong thing and he hated you for it. He should hate you, after all it was your fault the night went to shit.

I mean even if for some reason he didn't want you to leave, it would be easier if he didn't have to explain why you're here to the literal princess of hell. Its not like you could tell her yourself. You'd rather walk home a bit early and save him the trouble.

You glance at the digital clock stationed on his nightstand, It read 5am. Hopefully the other residents of the hotel weren't early risers. that would really be hard to explain.

You walked into his bathroom to at least attempt to make yourself a bit more presentable. You let out the breathy shell of a laugh; amused by the emotionally supportive posters and positive notes that adorn the wall around the sink. He was trying in some way, he was trying to make the best of things. He didn't have anyone to remind him it was going to be okay besides the small grey kitten saying "hang in there". on one of the larger posters. You pick up a note in Angel's swirled handwriting

"You're hot in more ways than just physically! Nice ass but nicer everything else"

It was a little silly, but it made you feel better for a second. Your eye gets caught on your hellish exterior in the mirror. God- you looked rough.

The mascara stains under your eyes did nothing but highlight the heavy bags that already resided there. Your hair had awkwardly shifted back into its natural texture in some places and erupted in frizz in others. You were still wearing that burlesque outfit Valentino had picked for you. Russet red dried blood and what you assumed to be half a fruity cocktail stained the front. You looked like an extra in a poorly funded zombie film.

Ironically the outfit had been one of your favorites before then. It reminded you of Alastor- big surprise there- almost everything does at this point.

The cut of the top and the off shoulder sleeves reminded you of the dress he had bought you to celebrate your new part time gig singing at that little bar downtown. The outfit's color reflected it marvelously as well- sadly the similarities seemed to end there. The outfit had numerous cut outs and a slit up each side. It didn't leave much to the imagination, but those subtle details kept it in your good graces. Not that it mattered, it was practically ruined now. Maybe you thought too deeply, but it started to feel painfully ironic.

You had sewn into the outfit memories of an ill-fated gentle romance and a shared cup of camomile tea, but ultimately it doesn't change what it really was, stained with the shadow of lust...Just as you had been.

The outfit would never truly resemble that dress. Even if you found an ounce of similarity. Even if you dragged it to the tailor and used its corroded bones to recreate the dress exactly.They weren't the same, they could never be.

You weren't the same.

You hadn't been for quite some time.

In the end, it wouldn't matter if he would ever consider accepting you in the condition you're in. Your skin will always sustain the weight of Valentino's hand. The vulnerability in your soul had been sparked by fear as opposed to love. Whats done is done. Even if you had been crafted with the object of love in mind your heart had been distorted beyond the point of recognition, it could never really be the same again.

With that, you didn't want him to find you anymore. It would be worse to watch him fall out of love with you as he realised you weren't the same. The love you had so protectively harboured in your heart for the devilish man was cut loose. It drifted away into the rotting sea of your soul surrounding it. You couldn't bring yourself to tear down the post you had previously tied it to. Even if you told yourself you couldn't love him any longer, the hole he left in your heart was too large for your will to cover.

You shrug on the coat you had slung on the floor before crashing last night and slide on your shoes.

You grab a pen from Angel's desk-if you could even call it that. It was nothing more than an old bar stool with a jar of pens and a pink glittery notepad. You scrawled a simplistic message. You didn't want him to worry about you. Even if he said he didn't care, he was sensitive. You didn't want to hurt him any more than you had already.

" Hey Angie! I went home- don't worry I wasn't kidnapped! Eat something for breakfast or I swear to god I'll make you eat an eyebrow pencil next time I see you..Love ya lots<3" Your handwriting was a bit messier than normal but it did the job okay.

You walked to the door, opening it it quietly, the lock behind you clicking as you shut the door to Angel Dust's room.

Finding your way out of the hotel was trickier than you expected but nothing you couldn't manage. Once outside you began to shiver. You tugged your coat tightly against your skin, not that it helped much. You refused to fly in such icy temperatures. The wind would be far less intrusive at a slower speed.

The walk from your apartment to the hotel was a little over an hour. Perhaps if you weren't so hung over it wouldn't have taken you as long.The sun just begun to peak out from the horizon, simultaneously allowing enough space for the nightly wind to have free passage, and the blinding light of the sun to assault your eyes; your own special little fuck you from the universe.

The steps up leading to your third floor flat were much steeper than you had previously recalled. Hauling your body up them took a lot more energy than you care to admit. Out of breath and slightly sweaty you were finally headed down towards your room.

Your steps creak in harmony with the ancient building's crumbling walls. You glance down the hallway at what you had hoped would be a chance to decompress.

You stop abruptly a few units from your own. The door was ajar. You pull a short pocket knife from the side of your shoe. The rusted knob looked no worse than it already did. The lock however, featured a few more scratches than you recalled.

You were too tired for this bullshit, You hadn't actually used a knife before. Stabbing people seemed like an intuitive thing to do, but your inexperience left you drenched in anxiety. Nothing within you wanted to go inside, but your legs begged for rest. There really wasn't any use in preventing the inevitable. Eventually you would go inside or whoever was inside would come out. Either way its stab or be stabbed. The door whines as you slide yourself inside. You knew the situation was dangerous, all you had was a shitty knife you mostly used to open packages. If someone was here to kill you..without your voice no one would even know. You pushed the thought aside. You could still run. You could still fly. You weren't hopeless.You crept throughout the apartment with the knife raised steadily in front of you- ready to fight whatever had arrived.. Nothing ever came. By the first two rooms you had lost your concern. It was just how you left it. You stepped into your bathroom, locking the door behind you. You must have just forgotten to close the door behind you the day before.

You glanced around the bathroom before you noticed it was not in the disrepair you'd left it in. A fresh bouquet of roses sat neatly in the vase, the old dried flowers tied and hung above them to use in your next bath. The radio you had so unfortunately melted been replaced by an antique model adorned in golden trim and a stained glass depiction of a small canary. Lastly, a neatly wrapped vermillion box sat on the opposite side of your vanity, a wax sealed envelope tucked between the box and the large velvety bow.

This was a bit ( really fucking) weird. Curiosity over took you as you reached for the dark inky envelope.

You trace the underside of the waxy seal with the edge of your knife, effectively tearing it from the envelopes dark paper. You unfolded the letter unsure where something like this would even come from. You had admirers, but anything they said or gifted to you went through Valentino first. He was the only one he deemed fit to give or take anything from you. He was greedy in the gifts he received and thoughtless in the gifts he gave. None of this felt thoughtless.

Dearest y/n,

I believe it is time you were compensated for all that I have put you through these past two days. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color. If it is to your liking, please wear it tonight. I hope to see you there.

With love,

-Yours truly

Val had gifted you dresses and other fashions in the past, more for his own satisfaction than as a reward. He rarely wrote the notes himself or even delivered the gift. He left it up to an unlucky assistant or just threw the garment in your face in passing.. Nothing about this felt like anything he would do. Perhaps one of his newer assistants didn't get the memo he is a massive piece of shit.

Regardless, you were curious to see what odd fantasy you were fulfilling tonight. You untied the ribbon. Upon lifting the lid, you realised today was going to end up much stranger than you'd hoped. Nothing about this made sense. The dress reminded you of something you might have worn out in your younger days..Was Val planning some weird 20s fetish night or just attempting to fuck with you? He knew the details of your past, with the exception of Alastor's involvement. Perhaps it was some form of psychological warfare you didn't understand.

Upon closer inspection , the dress was astoundingly quite tasteful. You pulled the item from the box pleased it kept going. Usually if the purchased dress was "too long" it would be cut short before it arrived in your hands, causing you a stressful few hours with your sewing machine fixing seams and hem lines.

You slid of the shell of your dirtied clothes and stepped into the dress. It fit you like a glove. The familiar 1920's silhouette and subtle inclusion of art deco threatened to pull you back into your old habits. It really was a gorgeous dress. The beaded scarlet fabric clung to your hips before slightly flaring at your knees. It sported a neckline adorned with crystals that dipped off of your shoulders and into the sleeves The back of the dress scooped down to your lower back a deeper toned train following it. Despite your otherwise disheveled appearance, you felt beautiful.

You look down at the red fabric pooling behind you, you don't want it to, but your mind begins to shift.

1929: New Orleans: The Bar

Your hands shake more than you wished they would, no matter how many times you sang here it always left you feeling anxious. The music sways in tandem with the bars patrons, mimicking the constant lull of conversation. You began to sing.Your voice cuts through the clinking of glasses and exhilarating cheers with a crystalline ring. You glance over to the bar in view of Alastor. His eyes trapped in a half lidded love led daze, filled with nothing but adoration for you.

You glance back down at your hands. They are covered in black velvet, contrasted by a simple pearl bracelet hanging loosely from your wrist. It was one of the many from Alastor on your birthday earlier that year. You had insisted it was far too much, and he insisted you were making far too big a deal of it. He wanted you to feel appreciated and loved, what better way to accomplish that than with a meaningful gift.

He wasn't fantastic with words when it came to you. His hands craved contact with your own. The sentiment he needed to convey didn't fully exist within the bounds of english, or french for that matter. You were worth more than any riches the world could offer you. He could spend his nights bottling starlight and collecting bits of moon and lay them at your feet, and he still wouldn't feel like it was enough. His mind drifted to your past. You were private with the majority of the details. He had collected the story over time from thoughtless anecdotes you mentioned in passing. He knew life before him hadn't been kind.Your mother had died during your birth, but her face stayed firmly in your grasp. Your father hated you for that reason, and he was not a pacifistic man. He felt you had taken the love of his life and left him alone with nothing more than a portrait you hadn't yet grown into. He had been sickly the majority of your life. The more you grew in likeness to your mother the less he fought to get better. He died when you were only 14, leaving you to fend for your siblings. You had raised them just as much as you raised yourself. If the world wasn't going to gift you a delicate existence. Alastor certainly would be. In that moment he vowed to make sure you never felt worried or lost ever again, he couldn't bare the thought of it.

He was shaken from his thoughts as the song climaxed into a loud jazzy finish. You glanced over at him again with a smile. You stepped down from the stage, the red fabric trailing behind you. You walked across the bar and into his arms. He instinctively wraps around your waist, his hand nestled into your own. The moment is pure ecstasy.

"If I could on pick one sound to hear for the rest of eternity it would be your darling voice mon cher" His honey toned voice whispered into your ear. You looked marvellous but the sound of your voice was entrancing.

Your eyes roll, a satirical air taking over your tone. "How many times did you rehearse that line Al?"

" Very evidently not enough. You've made i clear I needed a bit more rehearsal" His familiar sarcastic attitude evident in his tone. "For such a pretty face you have a hard time accepting a compliment"

You giggle into his chest.He placed a kiss against your forehead. Subconsciously you lean into his touch. You can't help but want to be closer to him. Your arms stretch around his neck effectively pulling him into a hug.

"My my, someones touchy this evening" his distinctive laugh following shortly after. It was the kind of laugh you could hear across a crowded room twenty years in the future and immediately know it was him. your hands travel to either side of his face, cupping it gently. Before you know it, your lips meet his. This kiss is slow and delicate at first. It is imbued with ever ounce of love you have ever felt for each other. His grasp on your waist tightens, pulling you in as close as humanly possible. The dark brown strands of his hair tangle into your hands. The kiss heats up faster than either of you care to admit before you finally register you're in public. He quickly composes himself, as do you. A sly smile stretches across his face. He glances down at your dress, his mind floating aimlessly searching for an excuse to be alone with you. Despite how deeply he loved you, he wasn't the type to display that in public. It felt a bit unsavoury. You were his and his alone.

"Darling, I think you may have torn your dress, during your wonderful performance. Would you allow me to help you fix it in a more, secluded location"

You looked down at your dress not entirely understanding what he meant. He always had your best interest in mind, perhaps he saw something you didn't. Besides, you didn't want to ruin the dress he bought you any further than you already had unknowingly.

"Oh I didn't realise it had torn. Of course, thank you love."

You take his hand in yours and lead him into the small dressing room. It was really just an extra office the owner had put a few mirrors, a changing screen, and vanity into. You stood in front of the taller of the two mirrors attempting to locate the tear.

"Alastor love, I don't see what you mean perhaps it was the ligh-"

Before you can finish your sentence his lips are pressed against your own. You lean into the kiss grasping onto his vest to steady yourself. You're caught in your own personal whirlwind. Your hands are glued against his sepia skin.

He breaks the kiss for a moment kissing the corner of your mouth trailing down your jaw and onto your neck. He sucks lightly against your skin

You're so precious to me y/n" his voice is deeper than it normally was. It held each desire he felt and simultaneously every ounce of adoration.

You let out a soft gasp as he lightly bites the side of your neck. He travels along it as your hands tangle themselves in his hair once more. God you didn't want this to end, but you wanted to feel closer to him. You drag him away from your neck placing your lips against his once more.Your hands trace the outline of his shoulders. His hands explore the curve of your spine and the softness of your waist. He lifts you up and sits you against the vanity. Subconsciously your legs wrap around his waist deepening the kiss. (scream)

"I have never loved someone the way I love you Alastor..thank you for letting me" You breathe out in between kisses.

He wasn't one to let people in. Not truly, he had a public persona and a private one. You were glad to get to know the esteemed radio host outside of the studio. You were so glad he let you seen him the way he was so afraid to be perceived as...Vulnerable.

A/N: LOL IM SORRY THAT ONE WAS KINDA SHORT. Also please let me know it the writing style and lengths are working. I've never really written before so Idk the right way to do this. Thanks for reading :) <3

-Also congrats to me for not using a song as the crutch to come up with a title.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin alastor #im knawing at the bars of my encloser #Me writing Al in the present challenge: IMPOSSIBLE #this is so short im sorry #also was not expecting many people to read these so thank you guys i love you #you best believe the shitty song fic titles are coming back next chapter #youre meeting him and having a big ol fight next chapter i just dont want yall to be happy ig

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littledollll · 5 months

Text

Satisfaction

Lucifer Morningstar x reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea for the LONGEST time, I’m so excited to finally have it done and out there.

Warnings: master-pet dynamic, overstimulation, mentions of orgasm denial, punishment, shoe riding, begging, crying, praise, degradation, worship, adoration, after care, mean Lucifer and then (slightly) sweet Luci. mostly condescending

_______________________________

“What a pity.” They muttered with a sigh, slouching just slightly against the chair they were seated on, watching you inevitably fail their ‘simple’ request to “just hold it.”

A disappointed look showed on Lucifer’s face at the sight of you. Eyes rolled back, thighs shaking and pressing together as your whole body tensed up and gave into the sweet yet unbearable feelings of release.

You gasped for air as you squirmed away from the toy under you. Their demands rang in your ears, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“Yes you can. Just listen.” You received every time you shook your head, moans sounding more like sobs at being denied your release.

“I haven’t given you my permission yet. No, surely my good little puppy would wait until I do.” But that permission was never coming. That wicked smirk you could see even with your eyes closed reminded you.

“You can do it, pup. You just have to obey.”

But how? It was physically impossible to just stop your body’s natural reaction. You can’t just pretend there’s no vibrator set on torturing your beyond sensitive clit. You could feel your own wetness. Down your thighs and all over the sheets below you. You could also feel Lucifer’s watchful eyes, lingering on your face much longer than they needed to, like they were expecting something from you.

“Down.” Lucifer’s stern tone could surely be heard across the palace. But they had no shame in it. In Fact they bathed in the embarrassment it gave you, marking an adorable blush on your cheeks.

You knew what that tone meant. It was one rarely ever used, but it seemed like today Lucifer was in one of those moods.

“m sorry- im sorry I couldn’t- Luci..” you resorted to begging, pleading for them to forgive you. But they were set on what they wanted from you, after all, it was all intentional. Because no one in their right mind would just assume you’d be able to hold on any longer than a few good minutes with a vibrator pressed against your clit so deliciously. Their eyes peered down at you expectantly while they knew you couldn’t. It’s not physically possible.

“I don’t care. You directly disobeyed my orders. You came without my permission and now you will be punished. Get. Down.”

You hesitated, for reasons only god would even know. You knew better. Your mind was ready to run to your knees but your body wouldn’t move.

Lucifer quirked a brow, amused by this choice of yours. It wasn’t often that you tried to negotiate on punishments and much less just refuse them. Then again, it wasn’t often that you’d get away with it. “Don’t make me repeat myself again, pet.”

Down you went, as if your body was waiting for the final straw before giving in. Scrambling off the bed and to your knees at their feet. “You know what I want, don’t you?” Of course you did. It came up in conversation no more than a week ago, and suddenly you have an impossible challenge and a punishment because of it. They set you up to get exactly what they wanted.

Lucifer watched you inch closer, they could almost read your mind, sensing your hesitation in the way you looked up at them seeking guidance.

“Go on, pet.. let’s see if you enjoy it as much as I already am.”

The toy was left forgotten on the bed. The buzzing never left the back of your mind as it filled up the otherwise silent room with its noise.

If you were them, you would’ve rewarded anyone who resisted the urge to take it off without their command, given the unreasonable rules they had set. But Lucifer was cruel when they wanted to be, and today was just one of those days.

You released a shaky breath as you settled against their boot. They allowed you that, at least. A moment to start whenever you were ready. You didn’t feel rushed, specially not when one of their soft hands made its way into your messy hair and forcing your view up.

You looked up with hazy unfocused eyes only to be greeted by softness, a quiet reassurance. “You look so pretty like this.. perhaps I’d enjoy seeing you right there more often.”

Lucifer’s soft voice lulled you into an unfamiliar state of calmness. Everyone’s been calm before, but this felt different. You were performing for them, their observing, but not judging eyes. Yes, you’d be here more often, as long as it made them look at you as they were now. As long as it made you feel like it was now.

You moved at a slow pace at first, your over sensitive body wracking with shivers as you did. Your pulsing cunt sliding against their shiny boot. Your mouth falling open with moans and sighs as the texture of leather rubbed against your swollen clit.

“Does it feel good, pet?” You couldn’t say no. Your arms wrapped around their leg, both arms practically clinging against their strong calf as you worked yourself up faster.

A pitiful whimper fell from your lips in response. Your chest was already heaving, and your eyes were locked with theirs.

Lucifer looked pleased watching you. You wanted that. You needed it. That proud look on their face was all you lived for. Nothing else mattered. Not at that moment, not ever.

You felt a familiar burning sensation in your stomach, building up more and more with each messy roll of your hips. Their boot was slippery with your arousal.

In the haze of the moment, you were a bit startled when you felt a hand tangling itself into your hair, giving you a gentle caress as well as refocusing your view to Lucifer’s eyes.

“I know you’re all spacey, my pet. But I’d love it so much if you could try and keep your eyes on me, can we do that?”

You whimpered once more, nodding quickly. Lucifer chuckled. “Good pet. It’s okay if you’re close, darling.. let me see you cum for me.”

Your breathing turned to short pants, it was getting increasingly harder to keep your focus up at them. Your head fell against their thigh, nuzzling up against it weakly before your orgasm shot through your body.

It made Lucifer so proud to see those half-lidded eyes looking up at him, even as you squirmed and whimpered your pretty little heart out, you obeyed.

You looked at him with blurry vision and trembling limbs. Your heart was pounding so quickly Lucifer could feel it as you rested against them.

“That’s good, pet.. you’ve been very good for your master. Now breathe.” Their voice was much softer now, a hand caressing your cheek, before they took enough pity on you to lift you onto their lap and let you borrow yourself against them.

Kisses get littered all over your face, on your cheek, jaw, and a little down to your neck. But you could feel the intention behind it. They weren’t looking for more, simply grounding you in the moment.

“Breathe.” They whispered once more, their hands caressing you gently, arms, chest, your torso… anywhere they could reach.

“You’re so messy, little pet. You’ve left my nice boots all ruined now..” they said with a quiet sigh, faux disappointment practically dripping from their words but you didn’t have the mind to understand that right now.

It was part of the fun, to make you feel beyond humiliated. It was part of the fun to see you lower your head in shame, tears prickling your eyes even more at the thought of disappointing your master.

“I-..” you tripped over your own words with a whimper, wrapping your arms tightly around them as if they’d let you go because of this. Your face hidden against their neck. “I’m sorry, master..”

Lucifer heard a quiet sniffle after your soft words, as if you were afraid to speak. It made a smile spread across their face.

Lucifer relished in getting to be the one to build you up after putting you down. Being so mean to you only to reassure you that.. “Oh, no sweetheart, don't feel bad. It’s okay, I forgive you.” And feel your body relax once more, at their merciful forgiveness.

“you mean it-?” you mumbled against them, “I’m really sorry..”

“None of that, sweetest.. it’s just a silly pair of boots, isn’t it? I have plenty of those..” they reassured you so softly that it would be impossible to believe they did all of this on purpose.

As if they didn’t put you in this position simply because they wanted to see you in such a pathetic state. As if it wasn’t all part of their meticulously crafted plan.

As if it wasn’t all for their satisfaction.

#lucifer sandman #sandman Lucifer #sandman lucifer smut #the sandman #lucifer morningstar the sandman #gwendoline christie #sandman lucifer x reader

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earthtooz · 1 year

Text

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗢𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗣

in which: there always seems to be a mistletoe above your head whenever todoroki's around...

warnings: 4k+ words, fluff, swearing, kissing, jokes of k*lling someone bc bakugou is there, bad writing :/

a/n: welcome to the first day of my xmas event! ofc bc todoroki is my ULTIMATE bias ☝️ i just needed to start off with him. enjoy!

˗ˏˋ XMAS MASTERLIST ´ˎ˗

“You idiot! I’ll kill you!”

You stand idly by on the porch of Class A’s dorms, pitifully watching Kaminari getting chased by Bakugou, who has clear murderous intent for the electric boy as sparks erupt threateningly from his palms. The squeals and screams from both blonds have attracted a crowd of students, noting the way that Jirou and Sero both cackle with delight, their laughter from inside the dorm audible where they watch from the window, and Mina looks proud of herself standing beside you.

As the snow fell and temperatures began to drop, it indicated the beginning of the Christmas season. Meaning, Mina thought it would be a good idea to put up mistletoes where people least expect it around the dorms, and poor Kaminari was stuck with kissing Bakugou as his first victim. You watched in amusement and horror as the yellow-haired swiftly pecked Bakugou’s cheek before running away, and now, he was stuck in a never-ending chase until his head is blown off.

“Is this a good idea?” You ask the acid user, concern lacing your expression.

“Oh absolutely! It’ll bring some excitement to our holiday season!” She responds. “Kaminari just got the short straw having to kiss Bakugou first! He won’t be the only one though, I guarantee it.”

You huff. “This is cruel.”

“I don’t think you’ll feel that way when I set you up with a certain boy,” she winks, causing you to choke on nothing, sputtering at her antics as you try to rack some sort of reply in your mind.

You regretted telling Mina about your crush on a certain classmate, and before you could stop her, her expression shows that she’s already setting something up, calculating a plan in that mind of hers

“C’mon, don’t do that to him, Mina. He wouldn’t want to kiss me,” you mutter, crossing your arms in defeat, a frown gracing your lips at your own misfortune. Just as Mina opens her mouth to deny your claim, a voice pops up behind you that almost sent you into cardiac arrest.

“Who wouldn’t want to kiss you?”

“Hey Todoroki,” Mina greets, poking you in your ribs. “What’s up?”

“Dinner’s ready, I came to get you guys but it looks like Bakugou and Kaminari are busy, huh?”

“Busy trying to make a crime scene? Yeah, you could say that,” you quip sarcastically, trying to recover from your embarrassment of Todoroki almost discovering that you’d like to kiss him. On queue, Bakugou yells out a ferocious ‘die!’, paired with an explosion and Kaminari screaming. “We were waiting for Bakugou to calm down but I don’t think he will any time soon.”

Todoroki chuckles at your statement. “You’re right. What are they fighting about?”

“I hung up some mistletoes around the dorms and Denki had to kiss Bakugou. You can imagine how that went,” Mina looks proud of herself, despite the chaos that she’s responsible for. Kaminari has probably fit in a weeks worth of cardio training at this point, Bakugou too.

“Like, on the lips?”

“No, just on the cheek.”

“And he got that mad?”

“Well, he’s always that mad,” you retort. Both your classmates agree with you. You finally step in when the explosive blond grabs Denki by the collar, effectively giving him whiplash before raising his heated palms to his friend’s face. “Bakugou, let Kaminari go already!”

“Hah?” Bakugou exclaims, his raspy voice echoing throughout the open space of your dorm’s garden as he lowers Denki to sag on the floor. “You wanna die?”

“It’s dinner time, twat,” you retort. “Can you continue your plans of murdering Denki after dinner?”

He growls, dropping your classmate into the snow before stomping over to the dorm entrance but not without sending you the stink eye.

As he pushes past, Kaminari stumbles into your arms, sagging in relief as you struggle to hold up all of his body weight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he cries repetitively. Were those tears in his eyes?

“You’re welcome… everything okay?”

“I thought I was about to be sent 6 feet underground.”

Todoroki grabs the electric hero by both his arms and helps him stand upright from where you were struggling to hold him. There’s a little more force required in the way that he picks up Kaminari, and you’re almost shocked by how smoothly he does so. “It’s dinner time, you should go get some food.”

If you looked a little closer, you would be able to see the presence of jealousy lingering in his eyes.

“You’re the man, Todoroki!” Your classmate sobs before leaning on Mina’s shoulder, actually breaking into tears this time. He’s chanting things that you can’t decipher, the pair leaving you and Todoroki alone outside.

The wind picks up, sending a chill down your spine as you tug on the sleeves of your sweater. “Let’s go inside too, I’m freezing.”

A hand on your wrist stops your advances and you turn around to meet Todoroki’s eyes, immediately becoming entranced in the grey and blue of his irises. The heat from his hand is enough to wither the cold that seeped into your bones. “What does Mina mean that she put mistletoes around the dorms?”

“Oh, she’s just hung them around the place. I don’t necessarily know why but I guess it’s a part of the festive spirit?”

“How many of them?”

“Well, it is Mina so my guess could be twenty to a thousand,” you murmur. “I don’t care to find out.”

Todoroki’s face is unchanging, but you feel like he’s scheming something. He always is in that brilliant mind of his, but you don’t enjoy the churning of your gut that tells you you’re going to be involved somehow. What business could he have with a mistletoe? Is he planning something on a classmate? Someone he’s interested in perhaps?

Thinking about it brings a frown to your face so you pull your hand out of Todoroki’s grasp and head back inside for a little relief from an unpleasant feeling that plagued your body; a sensation that didn’t exist solely because of the cold.

A few days later, Mina would strike, starting a series of fortunate, but also, very embarrassing events.

“Morning, Y/N!” Uraraka greets when you appear in the common area. Having just brushed your teeth and done your morning routine, you feel rejuvenated when greeting your friends. Asui pops her head over the couch at your entrance and waves.

“Good morning. How did you both sleep?” You ask, walking over to where she was sitting on the couches and jumping over the back to sit down.

“Great! Tsuyu and I are planning some things for the Christmas dorm party. Care to join us?”

“I’d love to, what’re you doing?”

The amphibian-like hero turns her laptop around so its screen was displayed at you. You take note of the decoration site that she was currently scrolling through. More specifically, the seemingly endless flow of plastic Christmas trees that this website provided.

“I thought we already had one?”

“We don’t, not until the boys broke and it ended up in flames,” Asui reminds you and you laugh at the memory of the poor Christmas tree you had last year. Somehow, Kirishima managed to push Denki to crash into it and then all the lights malfunctioned, burning the branches a little, but since the tree was near a lit fireplace, one thing turned into another and marked the end of Class A’s Christmas Party for second year. It definitely wasn’t funny at the time when Aizawa had to reprimand the lot of them, but it definitely is something to chuckle at now.

Core memories with Class A.

“I guess they did, huh?” You sigh. “To be fair, they can break the one this year because it’s our last Christmas celebration at U.A.”

“Don’t remind us!” Ochako slaps your shoulder quite firmly and you slip out a little ‘ouch’ from the impact. “I’m gonna cry again!”

“Please don’t cry,” the green-haired commands.

“Hey, I have an idea that we can do for the Christmas tree!” You pipe up, raising your pointer finger to the ceiling, mimicking an ‘eureka’ position. “We should order some Christmas balls and get art supplies so everyone in the class can customise one and put it on the tree!”

Both of them light up at your suggestion, nodding in agreement.

After a few more discussions over the logistics and decorations of the party, your stomach grumbles in protest, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten breakfast since getting up. Asui about sends you off to the kitchen, banning you from contributing any more until you’ve had food.

As you’re halfway through cutting some fruit for a bowl of cereal when a familiar, deep voice breaks the silence of the kitchen.

“Good morning, L/N.”

You almost jump from shock, tightening your grip on the knife before turning around to see who the perpetrator was.

“Oh, hello Todoroki! Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah, slept in a little longer than I would have liked. Midoriya and Iida were supposed to wake me up to go for a run but they didn’t follow through with their promise,” he complains.

“To be fair, you sleep like a log,” you comment, turning around to resume cutting the fruits. The half-and-half takes his place by your side, watching you. Suddenly the knife handle feels slippery.

“I do not.”

“You do! We literally had a competition at training camp to see who could wake you up and it took seven people!”

He grunts, rubbing his eye. “No one comes between me and my slumber.”

You chuckle, letting silence engulf the atmosphere momentarily as you walk over to the pantry. You pretend to not see him snag a slice of banana, popping it in his mouth before you can miss it too much.

“What’re you gonna make for breakfast?”

“I might just boil some eggs and have miso soup.”

“That sounds good. Nice and warm for the morning.”

“I’m happy to share.”

You shake your head, rejecting his offer. “No, it’s okay thank you. I am going to make some barley tea though, would you like some of that?”

He nods and for the next few minutes, you both operate in silence, nothing but the sound of kitchen appliances operating filling the air. You pour four cups of tea, two for you and Todoroki, and two for the two classmates you were just talking to.

You leave the kettle out for everyone though and by the time you were done plating the add-ons to your cereal, Todoroki had heated up his miso soup and finished boiling his eggs.

“Would you like to eat together?” He asks, gesturing to the dining table near the kitchen counter.

Your heart flutters, flattered that Todoroki didn’t mind spending time with you one-on-one. It’s uncommon for him to spend time with another alone; whenever you see him he was always in at least a group of three or by himself in content solitude. Settling in seats beside each other, you both discuss weightless conversations with no depth behind them, but you adore his presence regardless, satisfied with any chance to spend some time with him.

As the food in your plates lessens to zero, you begrudgingly rise to end your conversation and put the dishes in the sink. After breakfast was when you had your morning stretching session before going into quirk and strength training, then you had to finish off your assignments because even though homework was the last thing you want to do, Present Mic is quite terrifying when he puts you on the spot during English lessons.

But, before you could walk away, a hand pulls at your shirt, capturing your attention.

Glancing at your classmate in confusion, he answers any questions you had by pointing to the ceiling, where, to your horror, hangs a beautifully innocent mistletoe that you know was not there before. Judging by the ripped edge of the tape- Sero’s tape- that held the mistletoe to the ceiling, you could tell that this was a recent scheme.

Todoroki then stands up assertively, pushing his chair out as he faces you and you find it hard to meet his gaze.

“I- We don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable with it!” You exclaim, the words coming out as a jumble of nothing that he was somehow able to decipher.

He shakes his head in reassurance. “No, I’m okay with it. So, should I be expecting a kiss?”

You can’t think straight, you think you’re dreaming, is this a hallucination? Has your feelings finally gone off the rails that you’re imagining the way that Todoroki was ever-so-softly smiling down at you? He looks so joyful for the predicament that he’s stuck in. What if you ruin his plans? You thought he was scheming something with the mistletoes so someone in your class could kiss him, and said person was probably not you.

“We never speak of this again.”

Something within you whispers ‘fuck it’ before leaning in, cupping the left side of his jjaw to place a gentle and quick peck on his right cheek. If you were a little more aware, you would’ve seen the way he gleefully shut his eyes as a reflex to your close proximity.

When you part, you quickly swipe the dirty dishes before scrambling away, mind in scrambles.

His skin was so soft that you almost feel horrible for tarnishing it, but the memory was so euphoric that as you continued along with your day, it only got sweeter each time you replayed the moment. You just hope Todoroki forgets about what happened because you sure as hell can’t, the scribbles on your homework lay testament to that claim.

When you finally emerge from your room after slouching over your homework for five hours, it seems like whatever happened in the morning between you and Todoroki was out of mind, out of sight; the best option for your psyche.

Regardless, the memory keeps you up at night, often making you cringe as you bury your head into the pillow as if you were sealing the moment away into a coffin, locking it up and throwing it in the ocean of your forgotten, ‘here lies…’ recollections. The worst part is that your classmate doesn’t realise the inner turmoil he throws you in, acting as if nothing happened between the two of you whenever he smiles at you, or comes a little too close into your personal space, whispering jokes lowly into your ear. It’s outrageous how you have to sit there and pretend like everything is okay.

Eventually comes the time when all of the blank, white Christmas balls you ordered arrive at the door of Class A’s dorm, and no one in the class can contain their enthusiasm when ripping apart the package. Aizawa stands to the side, untroubled so long as the mess is cleaned up.

The art and craft materials are spread out along the clothed dining table, some glitter has already been spilled, there’s paint everywhere, and Jirou’s playlist pleasantly occupies the space alongside the excited chatter of your classmates. As you converse with Kirishima and Midoriya, often letting them get a glimpse of your artwork whilst enjoying the cookies that Sero baked for this occasion, you realise that everyone’s Christmas ball reflects a little of who they are.

Kirishima’s is red and beautifully glittery despite all the ferocious, strong idioms he’s written on the surface. Midoriya’s resembles the colour of All Might’s hero costume. If you look down the table, Mina’s has pink snowflakes, Aoyama has stars upon stars, and Hagakure’s has little drawings of her friends- their designs were just to name a few.

Those who finish immediately go to put up their decorations on the Christmas tree. With Bakugou going first and despite the speed that he finished his ball with, you cannot deny that it is intricate and well-crafted. Then, others start to follow him, and somehow, it’s just you and Todoroki left behind to finish up.

“Yours is nice,” he compliments, suddenly materialising in the seat beside you.

“Thank you!” You exclaim. “I’m really trying.”

“I can see.”

Glancing over to his work, you notice that it’s also split in a half-and-half, with white glitter on one side and red on the other. “Yours is really pretty,” you comment, reaching over the table to grab a gold star to put on your ball.

“Thank you. How much longer til you’ll be done?”

“I’m done now! Were you waiting for me?”

“Yeah, I would like to put our decorations on the tree together, is that okay?”

He’s so cute you want to squish his cheeks. As always, you find yourself easily complying with his demands as he leads the way toward the Christmas tree that was already occupied with various Christmas balls and tinsel, topped with a gold star. You take the time to find a good place the last two decorations and despite how full it is, you find places right next each other.

“We look good beside each other,” Todoroki mindlessly comments and you splutter at his choice of words. Did he have to be that shameless? The clueless boy he act going on only made you more flustered at your own embarrassment.

“Y-Yeah, we do,” you mutter, rubbing your neck.

Glancing up at the gold star, the corner of your eye catches onto a suspicious red and green thing. A part of your stomach churns in knowing before you can fully process what it is and when you do, a part of you wants to curse Mina for setting this up. She purposefully put it in a place that wasn’t visible from the doorway and would be slightly hidden so unsuspecting victims would fall into her trap.

What do you do? Do you point it out for your own selfish reason or do you avoid telling Todoroki? That’s not very festive of you but you couldn’t find it in you to care about tradition when-

A pair of soft lips meet your forehead, effectively shutting down your brain.

When Todoroki pulls away, cheeks slightly tinted pink, you are literally frozen to your spot. Pressing the off and on switch multiple times would not work, this time you needed rewiring and a new pair of batteries.

“I- uh, yeah- cool, thanks, uh, for that,” you fumble, letting the lingering touches of your classmate sink into your skin. You were fine, everything is fine, there is nothing to worry about. “Wow, you are beautiful- okay excuse me now, I will be going to my room and I will be staying there for the next three business days.”

Without giving him a chance to respond to your strange reaction, you turn on your feet and mechanically walk away. If you had paid a little more attention to your movements, you would have realised that you were walking same arm and leg, but it didn’t matter much because Todoroki just kissed your forehead and in the same moment, embedded himself into your system.

Then you made a fool out of yourself because you don’t know how to act around Todoroki.

The paint on your fingers linger mockingly, especially the red and white coating your skin because days later,you’re reminded of how quickly life can change, and similar to that a cruel joke; how quick your life changes because of some stupid plant that people attached a stupid tradition to.

It’s 6 pm or so and the Class A Christmas party is occurring in less than two hours. With all the decorations hung up and almost all the food ready, you found yourself sitting around the dining table with a bunch of classmates, playing several rounds of card games to kill time. There’s a teapot of steaming tea that Yaomomo made to the side, one that you reach over to occasionally to fill your cup again.

Everyone is laughing at Denki’s misfortune of drawing 16 the third time this round, adding to the unreasonable amount of cards in his hand, laughing even harder when he struggles to hold it all. Although some part of you should feel sympathy for him, there’s just something hilarious about the sight of poor Kaminari always drawing the short stick. You’ll apologise to him after the game.

Although, you don’t think that apology is going to happen, not when Todoroki calls out your name from where he was in the kitchen. Without even asking what he needed, you immediately jolt out of your chair and walk over, leaving your cards behind despite your close Uno win.

Uno was temporary, whatever Todoroki wanted was forever.

“You called?” You asked upon entering and the first thing that hit you was a delicious aroma that floated around the room. Then, the telltale sound of sizzling follows.

Glancing to the stovetop, there was a pan full of oil and the half-and-half hero stood in front of it, adorning an apron whilst holding an oil strainer. He brightens upon your entrance, fishing out three pieces of what looked like chicken karaage and your mouth waters at the sight alone.

“I did, I would like your opinion,” he informs, reaching over to his plate full of fried chicken whilst you close the distance between you, eyeing his dish curiously. He eagerly gestures it towards you.

Looking at him for his confirmation, you take a piece, blowing on it to cool it down before taking a bite with little hesitation, letting the pleasant mixture of salt and spices mix whilst the enjoying the crunch of the chicken. Wow, this was good.

“This is amazing!” You exclaim, mouth half-full with chicken and fried batter.

He seems relieved at your approval, and judging by the mess he made on the countertops, you’d say that Todoroki put quite a lot of effort in this dish for it to be bad. “This is my sister’s recipe; I tried my best to replicate it, but I wanted to make something for everyone tonight.”

“I had no idea you could cook! I’m genuinely stunned, I’m sure everyone will love it as well.”

“Thank you,” he offers you a gentle, but heartwarming smile that causes your stomach to flutter and your heart to sigh in content. Your tastebuds are in love too. “You should come over sometime to try the real thing. I’d love for you to meet my sister and brother.”

Your first instinct is to accept, as one does when going over to one’s house, but when you process the weight of his words, your mind erupts into a mash of concerns and delighted squeals. All that comes out of you is a muffled ‘I’d love to’- one of the better responses your mind could make up.

You note the way that his gaze flicker to your lips before quickly venturing back up to make eye contact once more. Suddenly, it’s getting harder to breathe, the atmosphere is heavy with intimate tension, and your heart is racing in anticipation because you’re certain he’s about to say something before-

“Hey guys! Something smells good in here, what’s-” Midoriya’s voice slices the air in half with an entrance that you don’t know whether to be grateful for or if you should strangle him. He then cuts himself off when he realises that he probably interrupted something, looking especially suspicious when his eyes gravitate towards the ceiling. “My bad! Sorry guys! I’ll take my leave now!” He squeaks before disappearing just as quickly as he came in.

“That’s weird, I wonder what he was talking about,” you begin, turning your head to look back at Todoroki before you find the air being sucked out of your lungs, being replaced by a pair of soft lips over your slightly dry ones.

Oh- wait, Todoroki was currently kissing you. This was nice. You feel like you’re floating despite how short-lived it is, because just as you melt into his warmth, he pulls away, hovering away slightly from your face, creating enough distance so he can scan your expression for any discomfort.

But your body moves on its own, causing you to jerk back from the half-and-half, brain racking to find something to say. ‘Thanks for the kiss. It was great but I’m not too sure if that was real or not’ or ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that’ are not appropriate options to say to someone after single-handedly creating the best moment of your life, so you choose an even better option; run.

You scramble out of the kitchen quickly enough, ignoring the surprise of your classmates that you run past at the dining table and trying even harder to ignore the footsteps that follow you from the kitchen to dorm’s entrance. Going outside into the expanse of endless snow and cold was your first option because you needed some remedy for what you were suffering through. Fresh, crisp air would aid the light-headedness you felt, and the frost could freeze the fire that was your face.

Although you were quick to escape, Todoroki is quicker in his chase, grabbing the door before you could close it, slipping outside into the cold with you before shutting the door close with a little more force than necessary.

“Why do you keep running away from me?” He asks, a hint of hurt in his otherwise steady tone. The only light source is from within the dorm, illuminating him in a deliciously warm glow that replicated that of an angel, making him appear even more out-of-reach than he already was.

Freaking out, you blurb out a: “Would you like the truth or would you like me to lie?”

In truth, your question was to stall the inevitable conversation you were going to have because you can’t find a way to lie from this. It was either the cold hard truth or… you run from Todoroki again but if there’s one thing to know about the half-and-half is that he’s persistent. Even if you flee from the face of the Earth, he’d venture into the solar system to find his answers.

Todoroki’s dual-coloured eyebrows furrow in confusion, looking at you inquisitively. He must think you’re the biggest fool on Earth- which, you are. “I would like the truth,” he answers slowly but surely.

You unknowingly inhale before confessing. “Please don’t hate me for this, but it’s cause I kinda like you a little too much?” You don’t look at him before continuing because if there’s one thing you aren’t brave against, it’s pretty boys with extraordinary pouts and puppy dog eyes. “This is literally so humiliating, but uh, you kinda like… intimidate me, and I don’t think you actually want to kiss me so I save myself the embarrassment and-”

“-You like me?”

“Well, obviously. You’re kinda perfect and it’s so unfair, I’ve never seen you with eyebags, or a single pimple, do you even have bad hair days? Plus you’re so talented and-”

“Perfect, you say?”

“Even the way you speak is per-” you cut yourself off before shifting your gaze upwards to look Todoroki in the eye. There’s mirth in his eyes, enhanced by the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You want to throttle him because of course, out of all the things you just confessed, he’d hang on to your admission of his perfection. “Don’t look at me like that, I actually hate you.”

“No you don’t, you like me a little too much,” he parrots.

You were actually going to lock him outside in the snow where little shits belong. Here you stand, pouring your heart out to him and he capitalises on your moment of weakness! Unbelievable.

Just as you turn around, Todoroki tugs on your sleeve, pulling you back. “Wait, don’t go,” he pleads. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist myself from having a little fun messing with you. I don’t mean to be cruel.”

“Well, you are, and I really don’t appreciate it,” you counter jokingly, huffing, watching the way your breath condenses before fading again. Now that the heat from your face had dissipated, the chill was getting to you and you’d really like to get back inside and hide from Todoroki for the rest of your life.

“I apologise sincerely,” his hand fishes through his pocket to look for something, pulling out something that you recognise all too well. “Will this make up for it?”

The half-and-half smiles at you shyly, unravelling the mistletoe he stuffed to become its true, expansive form. A part of you dies inside, the other cheers in victory as he raises it above your heads, the internal whoops and exclamations audible in your ear, but when you realise that there are a little too many voices, it causes you to turn around- only to see your friends gathered around a window, all looking at the two of you in excitement.

You laugh and Todoroki groans, and in the blink of an eye, a wall of ice materialises in front of your eyes, blocking you from the prying snoops that are your friends.

“It will absolutely make up for it,” you murmur, grabbing both of his cheeks to pull him in.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x Reader #todoroki fic #shouto fluff #mha x Reader #bnha x Reader #mha fluff #shouto todoroki x reader #shouto drabble #todoroki fluff #bnha fluff

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nebulaafterdark · 1 year

Text

Champagne Problems

Warning: MDNI 18+ ONLY! Oral (M & F receiving), rough-ish sex on the kitchen table. Set in the Moves & Countermoves universe.

Y/N is finishing up the dishes, from breakfast, when she hears the front door open. Haymitch has returned from dropping off the children at their grandfather’s office, for the afternoon.

She dries off her hands, laying the towel on the counter. Haymitch is already at the kitchen table, “for you.” A random assortment of flowers from the hob. “For me,” he produces two bottles of clear liquor.

Y/N smiles, reaching for her gift. “Thank you.” She inhales the scent deeply, before pulling out a vase from the cupboard beneath the sink.

“You’re welcome.” He takes a seat, “can you pass me a glass.” He’s been off, the past couple days. The nightmares are worse than they’ve been since they were young and he gave up sleeping with the knife under his pillow.

“Yeah,” Y/N grabs a clean one, from the drying rack. Waiting until he takes it to situate her flowers, placing the vase near the windowsill.

“What?” Haymitch quirks a brow. He knows that look, the wheels are turning.

“How long’s it been since I sucked you off in here?”

Haymitch puffs out a breath, “in this room, specifically? Been a long time.”

“Can I fix that?”

He slams his cup down on the table, “if I ever say no to that, go ahead and put me out of my misery. But first, you gotta tell me why.” It’s not an anniversary, or a birthday, no special occasion.

“I want to,” Y/N lifts a shoulder. Dropping to her knees in front of his chair, in her light pink sundress.

Haymitch cups her cheek while she works open his pants. Shimmying them down, along with his boxers, past his knees.

His cock is halfway hard already, just at the sight.

Y/N flips up the bottom of his shirt, pressing a sweet kiss to his lower abdomen. The scar from his games has faded with time, but still visible beneath the dusting of light hair leading down to his manhood.

When her lips rest against the head of his cock, he’s hard, twitching. She takes him into her mouth, fingers wrapped around the base, where she can’t reach.

She doesn’t like her throat fucked. They tried it once, just to see. The big fat tears that rolled from the corner of her eyes made Haymitch realize he didn’t like it either. No matter how pretty she looked, stuffed full of him.

Y/N knows better now, the veins and ridges, how sensitive he is near the head.

Haymitch curses loudly when her tongue sweeps over the slit, already leaking precum.

She hums, rolling her lips down his shaft once more. Loving the way he massages the back of her scalp as he moves her over him. Her eyes turn up to him and if he hadn’t been sitting down, he might’ve fallen.

Somehow he is always falling for her. Endlessly falling, sinking and settling, because she knows him. Sometimes better than he’d like to admit, better than he knows himself.

She picks up pace with his breathing, closing her mouth around him tighter.

“Angel,” he warns, tapping at her cheek. “M’close.”

Y/N pets his thigh, drawing attention there to give him a thumbs up. Fire away.

“One of these days…” he growls, that same hand moves to his balls, cupping him, rolling them gently. You’re going to kill me. He cums, hard. Shooting thick ropes across her tongue.

She swallows, giving him one last, cruel, pull of her mouth. Before he pushes her away, too sensitive as she attempts to work his softening length back to life. Y/N pops off with a wicked grin.

“Come here.”

Y/N pushes to her feet, standing before him as he sits, fully dressed from the waist up. He holds her gaze, his hands creeping up her legs, dragging her panties down to the floor. Then standing to meet her, with a single kiss, her ass lands against the table and he sits her there.

“Lie back.”

His wife smirks, reclining onto her elbows. Watching him intently as she opens her legs.

Haymitch flips up the hem of her dress, groaning at the sight of her glistening, just for him. He slips two fingers into her without warning.

“Ahh.” She chokes out.

“You’re alright.” He continues to stretch her, knowing she can take it. Dragging her heels up to rest at the edge of the table.

“I like it.” She breathes, that feeling, the slight burn, the stretch. “I like it when you make me yours.”

“Are you mine?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.” He curls his fingers upward and her hips chase them.

“I’m yours.” She grabs for his hand, reaching for her careful composure, reaching for control.

He stills her with his free hand, kissing her palm before easing it back to her side. “You’re mine, be good for me.” With that he lowers his head between her thighs.

“Fuck.” She whines as his thumbs part her, nudging back the hood of her clit. He flicks his tongue over the exposed bundle of nerves.

Yeah angel, we’ll get there.

Y/N bucks against his mouth with abandon, feeling him smile against her. “Haymitch.”

“Yes, you spoiled thing? Isn’t this what you wanted?” He murmurs, pressing kisses to her trembling thigh, “you like it a little mean sometimes.” Haymitch pushes firmly at her lower belly, bullying the spot inside her which sets her ablaze. “I do too.” A third finger slides in, hooking upward.

It’s too much, it’s not enough. “Yes.”

“Go ahead and cry for me.” Haymitch sucks her clit back into his mouth.

She does, sobbing, cumming, breaking apart; molten liquid flooding the expanse of Haymitch’s hand. He laps at her greedily, even as she shoves at his head. So good it hurts but she doesn’t really want him to stop. The shoving turns to harsh strokes of his hair.

He can tell she means to be gentle, because she loves him. She tells him so, spurring him on. But there are some things in life that cannot be gentle, even in love. They are too hard, too broken, all these years after the games.

He wishes she’d rut harder against him, break his damn nose with her pretty cunt, if that’s what it takes. Yank his hair out at the root and hold him there. But no. She won’t.

Haymitch buries his tongue in her pulsing walls as she finds release a second time. Y/N tastes like heaven, the sweet tang he knows so well. When he’s had his fill, he kisses and nips his way back to her mouth.

She sighs against his lips, giddy in the wake of euphoria.

“You wanna turn over for me?” He murmurs, stroking his thumb over her flushed cheek.

“Yeah?” She nuzzles his nose.

He pulls himself away so she can move. Face down on their kitchen table, legs parted, planted firmly on the floor. Her pretty pink sundress bunched up around her hips.

Haymitch wastes no time sliding himself into her heat, she’s dripping and clenches him so tight. He is home.

“Haymitch!” She rests her forehead against the table.

“Fuck, angel.” He holds her firmly in place, snapping his hips faster.

He’s fucking her too good, too hard, too deep and it makes her feel. She is crying again.

“Do you need to stop?” Haymitch breathes. Her tears used to bother him, stop him dead in his tracks. He understands her better now, crying is cathartic and sometimes she craves that release.

“No.” It’s pathetic and she hates the way her voice sounds.

He leans forward, pressing kisses into her spine. Haymitch wishes he could explain it, how it feels to be stuck in his head. Why this is the only form of closeness he can offer, until he is himself again.

Her fingers scrape the table, searching for purchase, something to hold onto as he takes her apart.

“Give me your hand, baby.” Let me hold your hand.

One hand reaches behind her, finding his, twining against her lower back while he fucks her.

I love you so much. More than sleeping til noon or homemade fudge. I love you more than booze or the numbness it brings. I love you more than anything.

She squeezes his fingers because she knows.

“Need you to cum with me.”

Y/N nods, his fingers find her clit, rubbing in tight circles and she is a goner. Spasming around his cock and it’s all he needs. Spending himself in her warmth, finding a moment’s peace there.

“Thank you, I needed that.” Haymitch pants bending forward to rest his cheek against hers.

“My pleasure.” Y/N let’s out a laugh when he finally pulls out. Situating her dress as he moves away. “Do you wanna talk?”

“It’s not you. I want you and I love you.” Haymitch turns her to face him.

Y/N nods, on shaky legs.

He rains kisses over her face. Little pecks to remind her how important she is, how special she is. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x y/n #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy smut #haymitch smut #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you

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teyamsatan · 8 months

Text

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝟙 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀: 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕝𝕝 𝔹𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝔸𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕐𝕠𝕦

pairing: Neteyam x f!Human/Avatar Reader

warnings: angst, tragic love trope, the one that got away trope, some fluff, all the feels

wc: 7k words

a/n: surprise??? besties it's been too long, i know, but i hope you enjoy chapter 2 of the 1 x anyone who follows me knows how much this story means to me, and it felt so good to be able to visit it and be inspired for it again. i promise it will absolutely not be as long between this chapter and the next x i can't wait to hear your thoughts! i love you x

to clarify: this series will be following oceans and engines mostly, but both endings will make and appearance and play a part in this story x smooches x

♥ series masterlist ♥ cruel summer ♥ series playlist ♥ masterlist

Honey, when I’m above the trees, I see this for what it is But now I’m right down in it, All the years I’ve given Is just shit we’re dividing up

Neteyam let out a quiet chuckle as his gaze fell onto your unconscious form, splayed limbs over your head and over the edge of the bed, peaceful look on your face as deep slumber still washed over you, even as eclipse has been gone for quite a while. He made his way to the window, where the blinds were drawn, pulled them apart, and watched in shock as that didn’t even begin to wake you. You and Neteyam shared a lot of traits, a lot of similarities bound you together, but your sleeping habits were definitely not one of them.

Amused, he decided to take a different approach, as he got on top of you and started trailing small, peppered kisses over your chest and neck, over your jaw and face, until eventually your eyes fluttered open and widened momentarily as you adjusted to the unexpected scene, until they melted in the mischievous, loving gaze Neteyam knew so well and loved so much.

“This is one way to wake up, I suppose.”

“A good way?”

Your lips met in a kiss, soft and intimate, not at all resembling the boundaries both of you were supposed to abide by, and right in this moment, it didn’t seem either of you particularly cared.

“The best way.”

You thought about it for a second longer, then pursed your lips in mock deliberation.

“Actually, there was another time you woke me up in an even more… pleasurable way, and I can’t say I’d object if you ever wanted to do that again.”

The memory of that morning made blood travel down south as quickly as it took for you to say the words, and he growled in your neck as his canines grazed it, as he watched you shudder under him, as he smelled your sweet aroma filling up the air he breathed.

“Vol, you have to stop talking if you want to get out of this room today.”

Neteyam could hear the smirk in your voice as you spoke.

“Who says I want to get out of this room today?”

“I do, because I want to show you something.”

Showed you all of my hiding spots I was dancing when the music stopped And in the disbelief, I can’t face reinvention I haven’t met the new me yet

Neteyam watched the door of your bathroom, intently listening for the constant hum of the shower to see if he could hear you, as if maybe by listening closely enough, he would be able to have a direct stream into your thoughts, the way it felt like he used to back when you were you and he was him and you were… well, whatever you were to each other. He probably shouldn’t have drank as much as he did - not enough to be fully intoxicated, but enough to know the filter between his mouth and brain was shaky at best, completely gone at worst, and very little good could come out of it. He knew all of that and yet, here he was, unable to stop his feet from moving to the labs, as soon as he felt like he could do so without attracting attention to himself. It was late, and most people were off to bed, so it wasn’t hard to do, even in this small settlement deep in the mountains the Omaticaya were forced to now call home.

When it became clear your thoughts would never make themselves known through the wall, his eyes wandered around, taking in every nook and cranny of this room that was an exact replica of the one you lived in all your life back in Hell’s Gate. He appreciated the humans for how much they cared for you, how much they were intent on making this little corner of the planet as homely for you as humanly possible. This room was loved and lived in; there were stains on the desk, crinkles on the chair, cracks in the walls… there were books and record players, pillows and comforters, plushies and knick knacks that Neteyam knew by heart, that screamed of you and the life you lived, that although not what you wanted or what you truly deserved, shone brightly all around you and illuminated even the darkest corners of the world.

Something caught the corner of his eyes, one of the few things he’s never seen before. A box, hidden deep in the corner beneath your desk, with a neat little label on it that said simply “Neteyam’s box. Do not open!”. If it was any other day, or any other circumstance, if his mind wasn’t clouded with the heady concoction that was way stronger than he remembered and probably the reason humans were as mindless as they were to begin with, he would have heeded the warning clearly showcased on the rectangular enclosure. But it was today, and it was these circumstances and he was intoxicated, so without dwelling on all the reasons he probably shouldn’t, he found himself reaching for it.

It was tiny in his hands, so tiny, it was hard to understand that something this small and this seemingly harmless could knock the breath out of his lungs with enough power to overcome and vanquish whatever self-control he still possessed. So many memories, all fighting for dominion over his consciousness, all painful enough to open every stitch his body’s been working so hard to craft in order to heal him. One memory in particular clearly won, one that’s already been percolating in his mind today, but now was all he could think of anymore. The keepsake he associated with it was missing from the box, which ironically made it stand out even more.

There’ll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you Both of these things can be true There is happiness

“Mmm.. intrigue. The Omaticayan prince wants to show me something, I guess I have to oblige then.” At the roll of his eyes, you laugh and pull him by the back of the neck until your lips meet again. In these moments, it was easy to forget the reality of your circumstances, the impossibility of your relationship, the hidden aspect to it that made it so no one would ever be allowed to find out.

It’s only been a couple of months since your 19th birthday, and somehow, each day got better. Each day was a reminder that he was the best person that has ever lived, the man of your dreams, the most empathetic, unintentionally charismatic, intelligent, funniest, most beautiful person you knew… each day a dream, until the inevitable forced wake-up call that he’ll never be yours, as soon as you had to pretend in the village, in Hell’s Gate, as you had to watch the matriarchs search for an appropriate mate for him and know there was nothing you could do to stop it.

He wasn't yours to lose. Not in the way you wanted him to be, not in the way you needed him to be. You tried to push the ugly thoughts from your mind as you felt him burying his head in your neck, just breathing you in. It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. No matter what happened, no one would ever know him like you did, no one would ever be able to understand every nook and cranny of his soul the way you were able to. No matter what happened, he was yours right now. While you still had this, he will always be yours. While you could feel his heartbeat in your chest as he lay on top of you, while your body was moulded by his own and your lips knew to recite each one of his freckles like a prayer, he’ll always be yours.

“You’re not as cute as you think you are, you know?” You snicker at his words, that you may believe if it wasn’t for the way he was almost purring under your touch, or the way he was fully sunk into your body, or the way you could tell he was smiling as he said them.

“Ha! 18 years of you falling for my every whim suggests otherwise, Teyam. Now scoot, if you want me to get ready.”

“So where are we going?” fastening your oxygen mask until it clicked, you made your way out of the living headquarters and were taken aback to see Seze waiting, her soft trills greeting you as she approached, her big frame almost knocking you down as she bumped her snout into your face. “Hey, girl. What are you doing here?”

You yelped slightly as Neteyam took you by the armpits and lifted you so you could mount the banshee easier, before getting on behind you and making tsaheylu, an arm fastened across your chest, pulling you tightly into his own, keeping you close to him. You’ve done this so many times in the 6 years since Neteyam passed his Iknimaya, and despite it all, it never stopped feeling magical, and fantastical and wondrous to you, like it was almost unfair that a mere human could experience such emotions and views, such exhilaration and freedom. You wished your whole life you could one day have your own ikran and really experience it the way one was meant to, but you were grateful for whatever moment you did get, and grateful for Neteyam for always being willing to share these things with you.

“You know the drill, ma Vol. You have to ho-“

“-hold onto you like I’ll never let you go again. I know.” This saying, that he said his father told him on his first ikran ride as a child, became almost a mantra in your life, with every moment you spent in his presence.

Hold on like you’ll never let me go again.

Past the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries Beyond the terror in the nightfall Haunted by the look in my eyes That would’ve loved you for a lifetime Leave it all behind

It was painful, the way the hot water was hitting your skin, in droplets that felt like spikes, in touches that felt like stings. Your mind was scattered after the momentous day that tried you, one which you never expected to live through again.

Neteyam… your ‘Teyam… someone else’s Neteyam. Different, so different and yet… still him. Painfully so. You hoped for more, more of a change, more of a departure - you hoped for a stranger, that could allow you to forget that the person you were looking at, despite adorning some new tattoos and a different hairstyle, was the man who knew you, down to the darkest, most intimate corners of your mind. You hoped that when you looked in his eyes, you wouldn’t see the stars be born and die, you wouldn’t see 21 years of your own life and the life you shared looking back at you. You hoped his stripes, that you could still feel on your fingerprints and on your tongue, would have shifted and become muted and dull. But none of that was true. Despite everything that stood against you, despite being worlds, galaxies, universes apart, he was still the same Neteyam. The question nagged at you, unwavering and incessant: were you still the same Vol?

You felt goosebumps appear on your skin as soon as you left the confines of the shower behind. Weird - it wasn’t cold, and yet here you were, near shaking, heartbeat caught in your throat in… anticipation? Fear? It was hard to say, but, with a deep sigh, you fastened your towel and opened the door to your bedroom.

Your heart almost jumped out of your chest as you took in the man sitting on your bed, that was way too big to comfortably fit in your tiny room, not that that’s ever stopped him in all the years you’ve known him. He looked almost out of place here now, so long after the last time, and you winced a little at the contrast between the memories in your mind and what was displayed so clearly in front of you.

“Fuck! Neteyam, you scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here?”

Neteyam looked lost in thought, almost unaware of your presence or your voice, glossy eyes fixed somewhere beneath your desk, on a specific box you wish he never got to see.

“This room hasn’t changed one bit in all this time. It’s so weird. Everything’s changed…” the sigh that tried him felt like it was expelled from deep within his soul, like a sigh he’s been holding for the last year and a half. “Everything… and yet this room, it’s like a portal to the past, like I woke up in a life that feels like a mere dream sometimes.”

You don’t interrupt his musings.

“The sheets, the books, the smell, the way the light flickers sometimes, the way the mattress dips on one side more than the other because you’ve always preferred the left side of the bed, and I always had to sleep on the right, even the broken vase I broke with my tail the night I left. It’s all the same.”

His gaze finally settles on you. He looks pained as he sees you, finally the human he remembers, that he loved. It hurts him being in this room. It hurts you, too. It was your turn to sigh, as you tried to remove the images of the past flashing in front of your eyes like a picture book, and tried to focus on the reality that was still weighing heavily on your heart, no matter how many counterweights you balanced it with.

Your sigh matched his earlier one as you spoke, your eyes darting to the room that you spent less time in with each passing day, that felt as much of a relic of the past as you sometimes felt in his life.

“Yeah. I guess nothing’s changed.”

Tell me, when did your winning smile Begin to look like a smirk? When did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?

He notices an ornate bow by the foot of the bed, clearly the make of a talented Omaticayan warrior. It annoys him to no end that he can recognise the work easily, having grown up seeing it, having been one of the few that could compare to his. It angers him further just how much the disdain doesn’t seem to want to melt away, regardless of how much he’s told himself to let it go, regardless of how he swore the reason he came here tonight had nothing to do with it. He had no right to pry, not anymore. No right to be jealous… not anymore.

“Well, at least some things have changed…”

You blush, and it takes every ounce of self-restraint not to start patting your cheeks, that feel like they caught fire.

“Tarsem made it for me. It’s cute.” You didn’t know why, it’s not like you owed him anything, but you couldn’t help the next words, that stumbled unceremoniously out of your mouth in a panicked hurry. You didn’t owe him anything, but you still needed him to know. “And platonic.”

“Yeah, so were we.” The words, and the bitterness in them, so thinly veiled despite what you assumed were his best efforts, shocked you. This wasn’t like Neteyam at all - Neteyam was kind, and careful with his words always, he was considerate and empathetic, and he was never mean, especially not to you. Especially not like this.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and the tears that threatened to spill, leaving his words to hang in the air, making it thick and heavy with heightened emotions you were both trying your best to suppress.

“That’s not fair.”

Another sigh.

“You’re right. It’s not.”

I can’t make it go away by making you a villain I guess it’s the price I pay for seven years in heaven And I pulled your body into mine every goddamn night now I get fake niceties

“Are you drunk?” One exhale was enough for the stench of bourbon to hit you like a truck, and all of a sudden, it was clear enough - why he was here, why he was saying these things, why it felt like all the bitterness in his soul, that you assume has been as deeply buried as your own, was coming out in unsightly manners, and you were the one who had to stomach it. You forget, sometimes, it was easy to - that Neteyam suffered as much as you, that he lost just as much as you did, that dreaded July 9th.

When your question was met with silence, you continued.

“Why are you here, Neteyam?”

“I came to see you. The real you. At least while I still get the chance.” His gaze hardens looking at your body. He’s yet to look at your face - whether he doesn’t want to or can’t, you can’t tell. “Grandmother tells me you’re going to go for the consciousness transfer.”

You shift uncomfortably in place. His tone was distant and once more not like the one you loved at all.

“We all are. It’s the only way forward.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes it is.” He scoffs, rolling his beautiful golden eyes, picking a spot on the wall to grimace at.

“I’m not arguing with you on this.”

“Didn’t realise there was anything to argue about.”

“You shouldn’t do it.”

It was your turn to scoff, feeling irate despite your best efforts, despite knowing it was the alcohol talking, despite knowing you should tell him to leave, that nothing productive could possibly come out of this. There was anger in you, you realise - bubbling just beneath the surface, anger you’ve buried so deep, you didn’t even know it was nestled in your soul like a parasite, looming in latency, until it was time to come to light.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because you just shouldn’t.” his glare was harsh as it snapped to finally look at you, melting a little when his eyes found yours, the ones he's loved his whole entire life.

“Oh, I see we’re being mature. I’m doing this, we all are. It’s the only way. End of discussion, Neteyam.”

“… you could die.”

Your eyes widen. There's tears in his eyes, a lump in his throat. You sigh, placated a little by the realisation that all of this, although it could have been done better, was just his way of telling you he’s worried about you. You’re grateful, so grateful, that he still is - worried, that is. Your voice softens a little as you say the next words.

“Or I could finally live.”

“Why take the chance, it makes no sense. Just stay as an Avatar.”

“No. I will never fully live in either of these bodies unless I give one up. I’ve made my decision.”

“It’s a stupid decision. It’s a rash decision.”

“Rash? Are you serious? I’ve had 21 years to make this decision, Neteyam. Twenty-one years of feeling like an outcast, like an alien - of feeling like there’s no place for me in this world. I can finally be one of the people, I can finally have a purpose, and you want me to give that up?”

There was more, so much more - it was a complicated decision, the one you took, and so much thought has gone into it, so many sleepless nights went into this… but how could you say that to him? How can you tell him that he’s part of the reason you need to do this, that you need to be rid of this body, the body he’s known and he’s touched, the body that memorised every ounce of him by heart, that still felt phantom pains from the lack of his fingers on your skin? How can you tell him you will never be free until the body he knew and loved so intimately is gone… forever?

“I hate this body, Neteyam. I hate it. This body is useless, and weak. I have nothing in this body, I lost everything because of it. Everything… You have no fucking idea what it’s like. What any of this is like.” You urged him silently, pleading for him to understand. To stop asking you questions that would dig up a grave long dug and settled, that should remain untouched, that he was unwittingly desecrating. You were scared of what would come out when he did.

“And who does? Tarsem?”

“What?” You couldn’t believe your ears, the spiteful words coming out of Neteyam’s mouth like they were nothing, like it meant nothing when it hurt and burned and ached, when the seams with which you’ve become so acquainted starting splitting with every syllable uttered, when the anger that has been bubbling up in your chest for years, that you didn’t even know you still held onto was threatening to spill and poison this room and all its inhabitants.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Are you actually saying these words out loud? I can’t believe you, Neteyam. So this is what this whole thing is about, huh? You came all this way and act like you’re worried about my safety, about the transfer, when the whole time you were just jealous of Tarsem? Jealous about something that’s not even there? He’s a friend, Neteyam. A friend.”

You’re both shouting at each other, screaming and hoping that will alleviate the pain, that will push the tears back in your tear ducts and not let them spill all over your face. You’re panting, the hurt burning holes in your chest, the anger cauterising them and making you push forward, for another blow, and then another… and then another.

“Wake up, Vol! Are you blind?! He wants you, he wants you to be the next Tsa’hik of the Omaticaya. He’s not nice because you’re such a treat to be around. He’s nice because he wants to fuck you!”

Silence. Silence that deafens, that echoes in your eardrums a lot more than the yells, roaring like a crashing waterfall. Silence. No silence can fix this. Nothing can fix this.

“Get out.”

His eyes are pits of guilt and despair, shock and terror at the words he would have never said out loud normally - you knew that. You knew he regretted them as soon as they came out of his mouth, but you didn’t care. Not right now. Not when he made the last night before your iknimaya, a night you were supposed to rest through so you can face whatever was waiting for you tomorrow, a bad memory that will only bitter with time.

“Vol, I -”

“No. Vol nothing. You don’t get to call me that anymore. That nickname was reserved for the child I grew up with, the teenager who looked out for me, the man who loved me - it’s not for you. You don’t get to come back to my life after so long just so you could try to ruin whatever little happiness I’ve managed to scrounge up from the scraps I was left with. Leave.”

“Please…”

“I don’t know what Tarsem’s intentions are. You’re right. Maybe he really does just want to fuck me. But I realised something, all this time apart. You didn’t fight for me. None of you did. You were my family, all I had, and it took you leaving and him becoming Olo’eyktan to realise I’ve never had a family. It took losing everything to see how little I had to begin with. You could have done something. You could have fought it, you could screamed and shouted at the top of your lungs that you loved me, that what we had mattered more than the clan or your duty, mattered more than controllable and comfortable mirage of peace, but you didn’t. You were ashamed of me, of what we did. It wasn’t enough for you, that I was human. You let me go, you watched me leave, I watched you mate with someone else knowing I will carry these wounds for the rest of my life and I did it with no complaints. I understood you, as much as I could, and I let go of the one love I’ve always wanted to hold on to. You didn’t fight for me. So you don’t get to be jealous. Not anymore. It’s not fair to me, or to you, or to the pregnant mate you’ve left at home.” The door was open now, gripped tightly by your aching hand, the tears falling from your faces and onto the ground the only sound to help the torturous silence left behind by your words, so many of them you’ve needed to say, so many of them you wish you never had to. “Go, Neteyam.”

No one teaches you what to do When a good man hurts you And you know you hurt him, too

The night was painful and never ending, the conversation pulsating in your ears like a terrible migraine. Why did he come back? You were doing well. Well enough. Why did he have to come and ruin whatever little joy you had? Why now, the night before the most important trial of your life, why now, so you can question and overanalyse every little interaction you and Tarsem ever had in order to prove him wrong, when all your mind can do is scour for reasons why he was right. Was he right?

He was right, wasn’t he? Why else would he be so kind to a demon? Why else would he train you, and accept you? Nobody ever had, not fully. Nobody ever had…

“Damn you, Neteyam.”

Honey, when I’m above the trees I see it for what it is But now my eyes leak acid rain On the pillow where you used to lay your head

Eventually, sleep did find you. And in it, so did dreams - memories, as they usually did, at your most vulnerable, nothing but your shaky psyche and a desperate desire to relive your happiest times to stand in their way.

“Why did you make Seze land where she did if you’re gonna make me walk so much?”

With a deep sigh, he stopped in his tracks and kneeled, and you smiled knowingly as you jumped on his back, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“Eh, you’ve always known this about me, Teyam. And you still love me, anyway. What does that say about you, huh?”

“That I can’t resist a pretty face, especially when it’s yours, my Vol.”

Well, that shut you up. Neteyam could always shut you up like this, by saying things you both knew he shouldn’t say, and while you wanted to admonish him, while you wanted to tell him off because this wasn’t helping, this would never help this already convoluted situationship you found yourself in, you couldn’t. Not when your heart was beating out of your chest, not when your blush was so strong it was making you feel like your cheeks caught fire, not when it made you want to scream confessions that have settled in your chest a while ago, that would never see the light of day, as long as you could help it.

He laughed at your silence, and pushed past thick shrubbery to unveil the most beautiful sight you have ever seen.

“Surprise!”

If your heart hadn’t dampened the rest of the world and all its thunderous sounds, you would have noticed the waterfall crashing into the river below, but as it was, the sight laid bare in front of you was, truly, a surprise, and God… what a surprise it was. A sight almost too good to be true, the beauty of it all almost surreal. The cliff was remote and secluded, surrounded by tall colorful plants and hedges - perfect for activities no one should ever be privy to. The backdrop was something out of a fairy tale, down to the fish jumping from the waterfall and straight into the water below, and the rainbow that formed with every blow of the wind. But somehow, even despite every natural advantage that was so graciously displayed almost as if especially for you, still, the thing that made it all feel almost transcendent was just a simple blanket, woven in a pattern you knew was his own, on top of which sat a basket filled to the brim with your favourite fruits and culinary delicacies.

“You know, Teyam…” you chuckle, still taken aback by the gesture, almost chocked up from the love you felt for him, that ran somehow deeper every day. You wondered if there was end to it all, to how much this love will grow, to how much your heart could possibly hold within itself before bursting at the seams. “I was gonna sleep with you anyway, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.”

You watched as his head swung backwards as he laughed, nuzzling itself in your belly, his braids tickling your thighs with every inadvertent move. A squeal left your body as his much larger arms reached above him and picked you up, manhandling you like a little doll, until you were on the ground, at the foot of the blanket. He said nothing, but bent down until his lips made contact with the top of your head, the romantic and intimate gesture enough to turn your insides gooey and your brain to mush. His voice was saccharine and velvet smooth when he eventually spoke.

“You look so good - so good - wearing my choker. Now take it all off. I want to see you wear nothing else, my Vol.”

After giving you the best I had Tell me what to give after that All you want from me now Is the green light of forgiveness

The morning was dragging and slow. Your mind was scattered and numb, perfectly complementing your burning eyes and heavy heart. You were angry, and sad, hopeless and forlorn, all of the things you shouldn’t be on the brink of your iknimaya. You needed your focus and your wits, both of which felt as far away as the ikran rookery you were on your way to.

“Ma Tawtute!”

You cringe at the nickname you’ve become fond of in time, that you hated right now, and the voice that spoke it. You try to no avail to leave, but you’re trapped when he catches you by the hand, willing you in place.

“Let go of me, Tarsem.”

“What’s gotten into you?”

You huff, rolling your eyes and tugging at your trapped wrist.

“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I can’t help until I know what it is.”

“Why are you nice to me?” you were angry again, almost eager to be proven right, eager to know for a fact what Neteyam told you was true.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I’m asking. Why? Why are you nice to me? Why do you smile at me, and train me… why are you making the People accept us?

Tarsem looked confused and taken aback at your barrage of questions, at your misplaced anger and your sudden skepticism of his actions. You couldn’t blame him.

“Because… you deserve it. Because if there’s one thing I learnt in time, is that good people, good humans, are hard to come by. And you, and the scientists, Spider… all the people who chose to stay behind in the way so many years ago… you’re it. You are good. You are kind, and knowledgeable, and you have devoted your whole life to the Omaticaya and to this planet, without ever asking for anything in return. The least I can do is make sure you live a life worth remembering, that you receive your well-earned place amongst the People.”

You were so content, so at peace, whenever your head was rested on Neteyam’s chest. You were home in his arms, home when your fingers were free to roam his chest, free to draw the constellations his tanhi made up when connected, free when his breath was fanning over your face with each kiss on your forehead.

“I’m so full.”

“Are you, now?”

“Of food, you freak.”

“Mm, I’m not doing my job well enough then. Guess I just need to try harder.”

You laugh, happiness enveloping like a shroud. You were scared of it, of your next question, but you knew you needed to know.

“Why did you bring me here, Neteyam?”

A shrug. Seemingly nonchalant, but there was purple in his cheeks, a flutter in his heart, loud and booming against your ear.

“It was the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, and it reminded me of you. Of us. As soon as I found it, I knew this could be it. Our place.”

“Our place.”

Neteyam’s head throbbed painfully, a nefarious mixture between a hangover and guilt making the world spin and his heart ache. Why? Why did he do that, say that? And before your Iknimaya, too. It was an important day, one of the most important days - important enough to determine the rest of your life within the Omaticaya and he managed to ruin it for you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Norm.

“You look like you need this.” Whatever Norm handed him looked like it had already been eaten and thrown up before making its way into his hands, but he accepted it anyway. Norm knew best, and whatever it was, probably was going to help.

“It smells disgusting.”

“It is disgusting. But it will help. The hangover, that is. Everything else, I guess that’s what I’m here for.”

“Listen… I heard you, in her room last night. It was muffled enough, but the walls can only muffle screams so much, you know?”

“I fucked up, Norm. So badly. I said… horrible things to her last night. I was drunk, and sad… I was stupid and jea-“ He catches himself before he can finish, but it was too late.

“Jealous. You can say it, it’s ok.”

“I know… about you two. She told me. So you don’t have to hide. Not with me.”

Neteyam’s eyes go wide at Norm’s words, but he was relieved that he knew - that someone knew. Someone he could talk to. Someone to confess to.

“She’s right. About everything, she was right. I abandoned her. Over and over. I let my mum treat her and Spider like they were pariahs, and stood by as my dad did nothing about it for years. I always thought that’s just how it was always going to be, that nothing I could have done would have prevented it, but I look at her life now, and how Tarsem treats her, and I realise I was wrong. And they were wrong. And we failed her. So many years, my whole life… I failed her.”

Norm sighs, both of them looking at you, talking to Max, who would also be taking his Iknimaya today, smiling and motioning at how you were planning on subduing your ikran. You were lively and animated, but your eyes didn’t reflect it, and Neteyam hurt at the blame he bore for it.

“Kid… you did your best. You both did. And you loved her, and stood by her, even in the face of everything that stood against you. You didn’t fail her. The world did. The world failed you both.”

You haven’t met the new me yet And I think she’ll give you that

It went by in a blur; in a mess of worry and distress. It’s like he blinked and here you were, the first one to go, the first one to succeed. He was so proud of you, prouder than he’s ever been about anything in this life. His heart was beaming with happiness and love, his head swirling with all the way he’s imagined this day in his mind and thought it would never come, but here it was. He was living through it, and had to come to terms with the fact it was never going to be quite how he envisioned. But he still had you, and he still had today. And at least some of it, he felt, could be the same. In his dreams, you passed, and you shared the first flight, and he got to see you fully blossom, the way you deserved, the way he always knew you would. In his dreams, your ikran intertwined in flight, and you spent so much time exploring, laughing, yelling, living. In his dreams, both your ikran perched at the top of the Hallelujah mountain, trilling softly would be the only witnesses to your love, to the way he’d make sure to not let you go until the second he absolutely had to, until you were both spent, looking upwards at the unending and star-filled sky. He would never get that, but your first flight - he still could. He could still be it.

“First fly seals the bond, kid. You gotta go, now!”

You couldn’t believe it. You actually did it. All the training, and the fantasies, all the nights you spent as a little kid imagining what it would be like to actually fly on top of one, all the days you spent on Neteyam’s, while he told you about the bond, while you shed tears from the pain that came with knowing you would never experience it… they all led you to this. This one moment. Your ikran was beautiful, just like you always pictured her to be. She was cooing happily and moving slowly towards the edge of the cliff, almost as if heeding Jake’s words, or itching to further your newfound connection.

For one second, you look backwards, at all the people clapping and beaming with excitement, and your eyes, as they always seemed to, immediately drifted to Neteyam. They filled with tears at his pride, at the way his body radiated it, at the way he called his ikran, undoubtedly just as excited as you to share a moment you’ve always envisioned in dreams and reveries, one that seemed like a rare occasion by which your fairytale ideal life could come true. But your life wasn’t a fairytale - it would never be, it couldn’t be. And that dream, you had to leave behind. That dream, just like everything did when it came to him, speaks to a love long gone, an uncertain future, so much helplessness and hopelessness and dread, so much fleeting happiness that dissipated when reality struck. It speaks to the past, a past neither of you related to anymore.

Another second, for your gaze to reach Tarsem. In him, you saw a future. In it, you saw stability and comfort, a love worth harbouring and cherishing. In it, you saw the Omaticaya, and the forest, a destiny that always seemed out of your reach, but which was now closer than ever. In it, you saw kids, running around, calling you mother. You saw the People, reaching for you for help and guidance, a feather jacket and pilgrimages that would decipher Eywa’s will.

In them, you saw yourself. One one hand, your past self, a human, broken and unmoored, born in a planet that didn’t make accommodations for the likes of her. You saw love that ran so deep it formed endless canyons in the pit of your soul, that emptied when the love was so ruthlessly taken away from you. You saw your mother, wicked and disinterested, and your father, evil and dangerous. On the other, you saw a warrior. Na'vi. Omaticaya, through and through. Tough and seasoned, healed and ready to heal. A mother. A mate.

You were neither of those.

There’ll be happiness after you But there was happiness because of you too Both of these things can be true There is happiness in our history

“There’s been talk, you know.”

“Oh?”

“About you.”

“I must be getting pretty good at it, this whole climbing and sneaking thing. I was hanging on an upper branch of a tree back in the village the other day. Managed to somehow catch the end tail of a conversation between a few girls. Didn’t hear me, too busy talking… about you, the Omaticayan Prince.” You snickered at the title, one of many titles reserved for Neteyam alone. You knew he hated it, all of it - the attention, and the pressure, the sacrifices that came with being worthy of all of them.

“Talking about how hot you are, how much they would kill to be the one you get to get take home at night. Theorising about who could it be. Going on and on about how lucky whoever you will choose as a mate will be, how there’s not a single girl in the village that wouldn’t die to have that honour bestowed upon them.“

Neteyam sighed and shrugged, brushing off the comments for only one of his own. “Only one girl I care about.”

You smiled in his chest, abundantly relieved and terrified all at once. This wasn’t good, this was so dangerous, the way he was playing the strings of your heart like he was a world-renowned harpist… but oh, it felt so necessary right now - the validation, the promise that, at least for a while, you still get to keep him just to yourself.

“She’s a lucky girl. Whoever she is.”

“I’m the lucky one. Because she’s… everything. And I work every day, try my hardest every day, to be worthy of her. And I want to make her a promise. For as long as i can help it, I promise I’ll hold on to her like I’ll ne-“

“Never let her go again.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, but he heard and hummed approvingly in return. You hoped he couldn’t feel the tears rolling down his side. You hoped he couldn’t tell that breaking this promise will break you. You hoped he never has to.

“Good.”

“She’ll do the same.”

Across our great divide There is a glorious sunrise Dappled with the flickers of light From the dress I wore at midnight

There was so much spoken between you and Neteyam in just a few moments. There was so much he can see in you, so much struggle in your soul. And eventually, he sees you turn away from him, from all of them, willing your ikran away. He watches as you leave, by yourself, desperately wanting to go after you, realising it’s better if he didn’t. And just like that, a huge chapter of his life, the longest one, the best one, was instantly over and Neteyam knows he just lost you, forever.

You were never his to lose.

Leave it all behind

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