#they i have always appreciated you and now i claim you as my own
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The Lost Dragon 2 - I'll Never Let You Go.
Summary:
A King loses his Queen.
Warnings - Death, Grief, Mourning.
AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN
Word Count: 5890
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.
Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8
"Vaelys, my love," Aemond began, his voice barely audible. "Please, don't leave me. I can't cope without you. You're my strength, my light. I don't know how to live in a world where you're not by my side."
He squeezed her hand gently, as if the mere act could tether her soul to this world. "I can't lose you," he continued, his sobs growing more pronounced. "I won't survive it. You're everything to me, Vaelys. My Queen, my heart. I don't know how to go on without you."
Aemond's tears fell onto her blanket, creating tiny, darkened spots on the fabric. He pressed his forehead onto her shoulder, his body shaking with the force of his sobs. "-I love you so much."
The room seemed to close in around him, the oppressive silence amplifying his grief. He could hear the distant murmurs of the Maesters, but their words were meaningless to him now. All that mattered was the woman lying in his arms, the woman who held his heart.
The realm could go to the seven hells, for all he cared.
As the night deepened, Aemond continued to whisper his desperate pleas, his voice raw with emotion. "You promised me a lifetime, Vaelys. Don't let this be the end. I can't do this without you. Please, come back to me. Please-"
Exhausted, he laid his head beside hers on the pillow, still holding her hand tightly, his tears mingling with the strands of her silver hair.
As dawn's light began to seep through the heavy curtains of the chamber, Vaelys stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found Aemond still nestled beside her, his face etched with worry and exhaustion. His eye, though filled with sorrow, softened as he saw her wake. He leaned in, his breath catching in his throat.
"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
Vaelys managed a faint smile, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "Aemond," she said softly, her voice weak but filled with love. "My brave dragon. My heart."
Aemond clutched her hand, bringing it to his lips. "I'm afraid," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't know how to live without you."
Vaelys shook her head gently. "Aemond, my love, you have given me everything. Because of you, I've had a life filled with joy, with love. Our children-they are a testament to our bond. You've made me the happiest woman in the world."
Tears welled up in Aemond's eye again, but he listened intently, holding onto her every word.
"You are my twin flame," she continued, her voice growing steadier. "In you, I found my other half, my soulmate. We've faced so much together, and through it all, you've been my rock, my strength. I am so grateful for every moment we've shared."
Aemond's tears fell freely now, his heart aching with the intensity of his love for her. "Vaelys, I don't want to face the world without you. You are my everything."
Vaelys smiled, her eyes shining with affection and a deep, abiding love. "And you are mine, Aemond. Always remember that no matter what happens. Our love is eternal. It transcends time, and nothing can change that."
She took a shaky breath, her gaze never leaving his. "You have to be strong, for our children, for our legacy."
Aemond nodded, though his heart felt like it was breaking. "I will, Vaelys. I promise. But please, don't leave me-"
Vaelys cupped his face with her hand, her touch gentle and filled with tenderness. "I love you, Aemond. More than words can express. No matter where I am, a part of me will always be with you. In your heart, in our children's laughter, in the legacy we've built together."
She closed her eyes, her strength waning. "Thank you for loving me, for giving me a life filled with wonder and joy. I will always be with you, my love. Always."
Vaelys stirred, her eyes fluttering open to meet Aemond’s. She managed a faint smile, her hand weakly reaching up to touch his cheek. "My Aemond," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "My dragon."
Aemond leaned in closer, his heart aching. "Vaelys, I'm here," he said, his voice trembling. "I'm right here."
"I’m so tired, Aemond," she admitted, her voice frail and filled with exhaustion. "So very tired."
Aemond's tears began to fall, dropping onto the silken blankets that covered her. "I know, my love," he said, his voice breaking.
Vaelys looked at him with eyes full of love and sorrow. "I-I don’t want to leave you," she whispered, her voice quivering.
Aemond clutched her hand even tighter, his tears flowing freely now. "If you need to rest, Vaelys, you can," he said, though every word felt like a dagger to his heart. "If you need to go, it’s okay-“
Vaelys' eyes filled with tears as well, and she nodded weakly. "I love you, Aemond. More than anything in this world. You’ve given me a life filled with love and joy. I will always be with you, in your heart."
Aemond leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. "And I will always love you, Vaelys. Forever and always."
Vaelys' hand slipped from his cheek, and her eyes closed as her strength finally waned. She took one last, shallow breath, her body relaxing in his arms. Aemond felt her go limp, a wrenching sob escaping his lips as he realized she was gone.
"Vaelys-" whispered Aemond, his voice breaking.
He held her close, his body shaking with the force of his grief. The room was silent, save for the crackling of the fire and the sound of Aemond's heartbroken sobs. In that moment, the world seemed to stop, and Aemond knew that nothing would ever be the same without his beloved Queen.
Aemond screams of heartbreak and anguish echoed throughout the Red Keep, a mournful sound that reached the ears of everyone within its walls. The guards outside the chamber exchanged solemn glances, their hearts heavy with the sorrow that filled the air. Servants paused in their duties, bowing their heads in silent respect for the King Consort's grief.
Aemond rocked back and forth, holding Vaelys tightly, as if his embrace alone could somehow bring her back. "I love you," he sobbed, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I love you more than anything. You were my everything, my heart, my soul. How am I supposed to go on without you?"
He pressed his forehead against hers, his body wracked with uncontrollable sobs. The room felt colder, emptier, as if the very essence of joy and life had been stripped away with her passing. "Vaelys, please," he whispered, his voice a broken plea. "-Not yet."
But there was no response, no gentle touch to soothe his pain, no loving words to ease his despair. Vaelys was gone, her spirit departed, leaving Aemond to face a world that felt unbearably dark and empty without her.
As his cries of grief continued to echo through the Red Keep, the people within its walls mourned alongside their king consort.
"Your Grace, please allow us to enter. We must tend to the Queen."
Aemond's response was immediate and fierce. "NO" he shouted, his voice raw with anguish. "No one is to enter. No one will touch her."
Maester Clarke exchanged a worried glance with the other servants and guards. "Your Grace," he tried again, his tone gentle but insistent, "-The Silent Sisters must be allowed to prepare her- It is tradition."
Aemond's grip on Vaelys tightened, his eye blazing with a mixture of sorrow and fury. "I won't let them take her," he said, his voice breaking. "I won't let anyone take her from me."
"Father," called Sovia softly, "Please. Let us in-let them help. Mother deserves the proper rites."
Aemond shook his head vehemently, tears streaming down his face. "No. I can't let her go. I can't bear it."
"Father, we understand your pain, but Mother wouldn't want this. She would want us to honour her properly,” said Daevyn.
"We must be strong, Father. For Mother. For each other. She would want us to carry on, to honour her memory with dignity” whispered Aemon.
Aemond's body shook with sobs as he held Vaelys closer. "I can't," he cried. "I can't say goodbye."
“We're here, Father," Rekara said softly. "We're all here to help-to get through this together. But you need to let them in."
“Father-“ uttered Jacaerys.
But Aemond would not be swayed. His grief had turned to rage, a tempest of emotions that threatened to consume him. "I won't listen to any of you!" he spat, his voice thick with anger. "I won't let anyone take her away from me!"
"Grandpa-it's Vhalarr. Can I come in?"
With a heavy sigh, he rose from his seat, his steps heavy as he approached the door.
Slowly, he opened it just a crack, his eye meeting Vhalarr's with a mixture of grief and gratitude.
Vhalarr stepped into the chamber, his heart aching at the sight of his grandfather's pain. He crossed the threshold, closing the door behind him with a soft click.
The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing, the weight of their grief hanging heavy in the air. Aemond stood before him, a broken figure bathed in shadows, his sorrow etched deep into the lines of his face.
Vhalarr approached him slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone floor. "Grandpa," he said gently, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm here for you. Whatever you need, I'm here."
As Aemond turned to face him, his facade of strength crumbled, and he collapsed into Vhalarr's arms, his body wracked with sobs. Vhalarr caught him instinctively, holding him close as the weight of his grief threatened to crush him.
Aemond's cries echoed through the chamber, a raw and anguished sound that tore at Vhalarr's heart. He held his grandfather tightly, offering what little comfort he could, knowing that no words could ease the pain of losing someone so dear.
For what felt like an eternity, they remained locked in their embrace, the only sound the desperate sound of Aemond's weeping.
"Grandpa," Vhalarr said gently, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. "I know this is hard, but we need to let the Silent Sisters in. They can help prepare Grandma for her final journey."
Aemond's body tensed at the mention of the Silent Sisters, his grief-fuelled resolve still strong. But Vhalarr held onto him tighter, refusing to let him push everyone away.
"They will treat her with the utmost respect, Grandpa," Vhalarr continued, his voice soft but firm.
Aemond remained silent for a long moment, his body trembling with silent sobs. Vhalarr could feel the weight of his grandfather's grief pressing down on him, threatening to drown them both.
Finally, with a shaky breath, Aemond nodded, his resistance crumbling in the face of Vhalarr's unwavering support. "Okay," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echoes of his sorrow. "Let them in."
Vhalarr released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, relief flooding through him. With gentle hands, he helped Aemond to his feet, guiding him to the bed where Vaelys lay.
Together, they watched as the Silent Sisters entered the chamber, their movements graceful and reverent as they approached the bed.
But as they moved to lift Vaelys from the bed, Aemond's hand shot out, grasping the edge of the sheet with a fierce determination. "No," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.
The Silent Sisters exchanged uneasy glances, "We must take her now, Your Grace," one of the sisters said gently, her voice filled with sympathy. "It is not proper for you to witness-"
But Aemond cut her off with a fierce shake of his head. "I don't care about propriety," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I won't leave her side. Not now, not ever."
Vhalarr stepped forward, placing a hand on his grandfather's shoulder, his eyes filled with understanding. "Grandpa," he said softly, "Please. Let them take her-“
But Aemond's gaze remained fixed on Vaelys' still form, his determination unwavering. "I won't leave her," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't."
In the chambers of the Silent Sisters, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, watching as they prepared Vaelys' body. The air was heavy with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric and the hushed whispers of the sisters as they went about their sacred task.
As they reached for the linens to wrap Vaelys' body, Aemond's hand shot out, his voice firm and resolute. "Stop," he said, his tone commanding yet filled with a quiet intensity. "I'll do it. I shall be the last to touch her"
The Silent Sisters hesitated, surprised by Aemond's sudden assertion. But they could see the determination in his eye, the love and reverence he held for his beloved wife.
With a nod of understanding, they stepped back, allowing Aemond to approach Vaelys' still form. He stood before her, his hands trembling slightly as he reached out to gently caress her cold cheek, his touch lingering with a tenderness born of a lifetime of love.
Leaning down, Aemond pressed a soft kiss to Vaelys' forehead, his lips lingering against her pale skin for a moment before he straightened, his resolve firm.
“I love you-“
With steady hands, he began to wrap her body in the white linens, his movements slow and deliberate. Each fold was a testament to the depth of his love, a silent vow to honour her memory with the utmost care and reverence.
As he worked, the Silent Sisters watched in silence, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.
But Aemond remained steadfast, his focus unwavering as he carefully completed the task. And when he was done, he stood back, his hands resting on the shrouded form of his beloved wife.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Aemond looked upon Vaelys one last time, his heart heavy with grief yet filled with a quiet sense of peace.
With a choked sob, Aemond collapsed to his knees, his body wracked with the force of his grief. His cries echoed through the silent chamber, a haunting lament for the woman he had loved so deeply the woman who had been his everything.
Aemond felt a hand rest gently on his shoulder, a silent gesture of support and understanding. He looked up through tear-blurred eyes to see Vhalarr standing beside him, his own cheeks stained with tears.
"Grandpa," Vhalarr said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're not alone. I'm here with you."
Aemond lay curled up on the bed he had shared with Vaelys, her absence a palpable ache in the air. The scent of her lingered on the sheets, a haunting reminder of the love they had shared and the emptiness that now filled his heart.
Suddenly, the door swung open, flooding the room with light and the sound of hushed whispers. Aemond looked up, his eye bleary with tears, to see his children entering the room, their faces etched with sorrow and compassion.
Without a word, they climbed onto the bed, surrounding their father with their presence. One by one, they wrapped their arms around him, pulling him close in a silent embrace.
Aemond buried his face in the crook of Sovia's neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. Daevyn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own tears mingling with his father's. Aemon and Rekara held onto him tightly, offering silent support, while Jacaerys leaned in close, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"We're here, Father," he said softly. "We're here for you."
Together, they lay on the bed, their bodies forming a protective circle around Aemond. They held him close, offering what little comfort they could as he grieved the loss of the woman who had been the heart of their family.
As the sombre toll of the bells echoed through the streets of King's Landing, the city mourned the passing of their beloved Queen. The people lined the cobblestone streets, their faces etched with sorrow as they watched the procession pass by.
Flower petals drifted through the air like tears, their vibrant colours a stark contrast to the grey skies above. The scent of roses and lilies mingled with the heavy weight of grief, filling the air with a bittersweet fragrance.
At the head of the procession, a grand carriage draped in black carried the shrouded form of Queen Vaelys.
But it was not the carriage that drew the attention of the crowd—it was the figure walking behind it, his head bowed, and his shoulders stooped with the weight of his sorrow.
Aemond had, refused to sit in a carriage or ride a horse. Instead, he walked behind his Queen, his steps slow and measured, his gaze fixed on the ground before him.
With each step, Aemond felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him, threatening to crush him beneath its relentless weight.
The people of King's Landing watched in silence as Aemond passed by, their hearts heavy with sympathy for the grieving King Consort.
But as they lined the streets, their silent presence spoke volumes, a testament to the love and respect they held for their Queen and the man who had loved her so fiercely. And as the funeral procession disappeared from view, Aemond walked on, his silent vigil a poignant tribute to the woman who had meant everything to him.
As the funeral procession wound its solemn path through the streets of King's Landing, the sky above was suddenly filled with the majestic form of Vermithor.
With each powerful beat of his wings, he soared through the air, his massive form casting a shadow over the grieving city below.
The mournful song of Vermithor echoed through the streets, a haunting melody that seemed to pierce the hearts of all who heard it. His sorrowful cries filled the air, a lament for the loss of his beloved rider.
As the funeral procession reached the grassy banks outside of King's Landing, Aemond stood with a heavy heart, his eyes fixed on the spot where Vaelys' body now lay. The air was heavy with grief, the solemnity of the moment weighing down on him like a leaden cloak.
With a deep breath, Aemond approached the pyre, his steps slow and deliberate. His heart pounded in his chest as he looked down at Vaelys' shrouded form.
In his shaking hands, he held a daisy chain-made by his youngest great granddaughter, a simple yet poignant symbol of the love they had shared. With trembling fingers, he placed it gently on her wrapped body, the delicate flowers a stark contrast to the starkness of death.
Closing his eye, Aemond bowed his head in silent prayer, his thoughts filled with memories of the woman he had loved so deeply. He whispered words of farewell, his voice barely more than a whisper, as tears streamed down his cheeks.
And then, as if in response to his grief, Vhagar descended from the sky with a thunderous roar. Her massive wings beat the air, stirring up clouds of dust and debris as she landed beside the pyre, the great dragon lowering her head low in a silent gesture of sorrow and respect for the passing of her rider’s love.
The time had come for him to give the command to Vhagar, to ignite the pyre and send his beloved Queen on her final journey.
But as he opened his mouth to speak, to utter the word that would set the flames alight, he found that the words wouldn't come. His throat felt tight, his tongue heavy with the weight of his sorrow. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to give the command.
A sense of panic washed over Aemond as he struggled to find his voice, his hands trembling at his sides.
But then, a gentle hand slipped into his own, grounding him in the present moment. Aemond looked up to see Sovia, standing beside him, her eyes filled with determination and strength.
Without a word, Sovia glanced towards Silverwing, who stood nearby, and in that moment, Aemond understood.
With her voice firm and unwavering, Sovia gave the command that Aemond could not. "Dracarys," she said, her voice carrying across the quiet clearing.
As the flames roared and danced before him, casting a flickering glow over the clearing, Aemond felt an overwhelming urge to step forward, to immerse himself in the searing heat of the dragon's fire. It was as if a voice whispered to him, urging him to join his beloved Queen in her final journey.
With a heavy heart, Aemond took a tentative step forward, his eye fixed on the blazing pyre before him. For a brief, fleeting instant, it seemed as though he would surrender himself to the flames, to the consuming embrace of fire and ash.
But then, as if sensing his intentions, the hands of his children closed around him, pulling him back. Their grip was firm and unwavering, their voices filled with concern and determination.
"Father, no!" Sovia cried out, her voice echoing through the clearing.
Aemond looked into the eyes of his children, his heart heavy with sorrow and gratitude. In that moment, he realized the depth of their love, the strength of their bond.
With a trembling breath, Aemond allowed himself to be pulled back from the flames, his steps faltering as he collapsed into the arms of his children.
Sovia stood at the forefront, her expression stoic yet resolute. Her mother's crown, a symbol of power and authority, was placed upon her head with great reverence, its weight a reminder of the responsibilities that now rested upon her shoulders.
Beside her stood her husband, Daevyn, his own expression solemn yet supportive. The crown of their father, now passed down to him, sat upon his head, a testament to the legacy of their family.
With a steady voice, the High Septon stepped forward, his words echoing through the clearing as he declared Sovia the new queen of the Seven Kingdoms. The crowd fell silent, their eyes fixed on the newly crowned queen and her king consort, their hearts heavy with the weight of the moment.
Sovia held herself with grace and dignity as she accepted her new role, her gaze unwavering as she surveyed the faces of her subjects. She knew that the road ahead would be fraught with challenges and trials, but she was determined to lead her people with wisdom and compassion, just as her mother had done before her.
Beside her, Daevyn stood tall and proud, his hand clasped tightly in hers as they faced the future together.
Alone in the dimly lit chambers of the Red Keep, Aemond sat in solitude, his heart heavy with grief and his mind consumed by memories of the woman he had loved with all his being.
The coronation of his children, Sovia and Daevyn, should have been a moment of great joy and celebration, a testament to the enduring strength of their family and the resilience of the realm.
But for Aemond, the thought of attending such an event was unbearable.
Instead, he remained hidden away in his chambers. He sat before the crackling fireplace, the warmth of the flames a stark contrast to the cold emptiness that filled his heart.
In his trembling hands, he clutched a robe that belonged to Vaelys. The fabric was soft and worn, the scent of her perfume lingering on it like a bittersweet reminder of the life they had shared together.
With each breath, Aemond drank in the familiar scent, allowing it to envelop him in a cocoon of memories and longing. He closed his eye, his mind drifting back to happier times, when laughter and love had filled the halls of the Red Keep, and Vaelys had been by his side, radiant and full of life.
But now she was gone, her absence a gaping hole in his heart that could never be filled. And though he knew he should attend the coronation of his children, to fulfil his duty as the previous King Consort, he could not bring himself to leave the safety of his chambers.
Eventually exhaustion overtook him. His eyelid growing heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and soon, he succumbed to the embrace of sleep.
In the quiet of the chamber, the flickering flames of the fireplace cast dancing shadows across the room, and Aemond drifted into a fitful slumber. His dreams were haunted by memories of Vaelys, her laughter echoing in the recesses of his mind, her gentle touch a fleeting sensation against his skin.
But as sleep began to loosen its grip on him, Aemond felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, pulling him back to consciousness. He stirred, his mind still clouded with the haze of sleep, and for a brief moment, he thought he heard Vaelys' voice calling his name.
"Vaelys?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep as he reached out instinctively, expecting to find her warm embrace.
But instead, his hand met with empty air, and he blinked away the remnants of his dreams to find Sovia standing before him, her face etched with concern.
"Father," she said softly, her voice breaking through the fog of his mind. "It's me, Sovia."
Aemond's heart clenched with a sudden surge of grief as reality crashed over him like a tidal wave. He looked up at his daughter, his eyes brimming with tears, and in that moment, he saw the ghost of Vaelys reflected in her features.
"Sovia," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry. I thought-"
But Sovia reached out a hand, gently brushing away the tears that streaked his cheeks. "It's okay, Father," she said, her voice filled with compassion. "I understand."
And in that moment, Aemond felt his grief swallow him whole once more, consuming him with its overwhelming intensity. He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as the weight of his loss pressed down upon him like a leaden shroud.
Sovia knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting embrace, offering him solace in the midst of his pain. And as they sat together in the quiet of the chamber, father and daughter bound by their shared sorrow.
In the weeks that followed Vaelys' death, Aemond retreated further into the solitude of his grief, his heart heavy with the weight of his loss. The once vibrant halls of the Red Keep now felt empty and cold, their echoes a painful reminder of the woman who had brought light and warmth into his life.
Day after day, Aemond shut himself away in his chambers, seeking solace in the silence and solitude. He spent hours sitting before the fireplace, the flames casting flickering shadows across the room as he stared into the dancing embers, lost in memories of the past.
At times, he would take out parchment and quill, penning letters to Vaelys that he knew she would never read. He poured his heart out onto the page, his words a desperate plea to the heavens, a futile attempt to bridge the chasm that now separated them.
But no matter how many letters he wrote, no matter how many tears he shed, the ache of his loss remained unchanged, a gaping wound that refused to heal. And so, he would sit, lost in his thoughts, his heart heavy with the burden of his grief, praying to whoever was listening to just let him die, he had promised her-but this was one promise he couldn’t keep, he couldn’t exist without her-he didn’t want to exist without her.
Outside his window, the sky stretched endlessly overhead, a vast expanse of blue that seemed to mock him with its boundless freedom. Aemond would stare up at the heavens, his eyes tracing the path of the stars as they shimmered in the darkness, wondering if somewhere among them, Vaelys was watching over him.
But no matter how long he stared, no matter how hard he searched, he found no solace in the vastness of the sky. For his queen was gone, lost to him forever, and no amount of longing or despair could bring her back.
As Aemond lay in bed, enveloped in the silence of his chambers, he felt the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a suffocating blanket. The memories of Vaelys haunted him, her absence a constant ache in his heart that refused to fade.
And then, as if from the depths of his own longing, he heard her voice—a soft, melodic whisper that sent shivers down his spine. It was as if she were calling out to him from beyond the veil, a beckoning from a world he could not see.
For a moment, Aemond's heart soared with hope, his mind filled with the possibility of reunion with his beloved Queen. He closed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as he reached out, as if to grasp hold of her ephemeral presence.
But then, a sense of peace washed over him, a calmness that seemed to settle deep within his soul. He realized then that he was ready, ready to let go of the pain and sorrow that had consumed him for so long.
With a sense of finality, Aemond closed his eye once more, surrendering himself to the embrace of the unknown. He felt as though something were reaching out for him, a gentle hand guiding him towards the light.
As Aemond slowly stirred from his slumber, he was met with a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Surrounding him was a blinding light, so intense that it seemed to sear through the darkness of his dreams and into the waking world.
Blinking against the brightness, Aemond raised a hand to shield his face, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything felt strange, yet familiar at the same time, he was in his chambers but as his vision began to adjust to the light, Aemond realized something even more astonishing—there was no pain. No dull ache that had plagued him for so long, no phantom twinge of the scar that had marred his face since childhood.
With trembling fingers, he reached up to touch his face, his breath catching in his throat as he realized what he had found. His left eye, the one that had been lost to him for so many years, was whole once more.
It was a sensation he had almost forgotten, the feeling of having two eyes instead of one.
He stood in front of the looking glass and was stunned at his youthful reflection staring back at him, over the years his hair hair grown grey and his face lined with wrinkles but here now-his hair was silver and his face smooth and sculpted.
What was going on?
As Aemond stood in the threshold of his chambers, the sound of laughter danced on the air, drawing him irresistibly forward. With each step he took, the laughter grew louder, filling him with a sense of warmth and joy.
And then, he stepped through the doorway and found himself standing in the midst of the gardens, bathed in the golden light of the sun. The warmth of its rays washed over him, chasing away the shadows of his grief and filling him with a sense of renewal.
Beneath his feet, the grass was soft and, tickling his bare skin as he walked. The scent of flowers hung heavy in the air, their delicate fragrance a symphony of colours and shapes that surrounded him on all sides.
And as he wandered through the garden, basking in the warmth of the sun and the gentle embrace of nature, Aemond felt a sense of peace settle over him.
Then he saw her, sitting amidst a bed of wildflowers, her hands deftly weaving daisy chains with a grace and ease that took his breath away.
She looked so beautiful, her youthful skin glowing in the warm sunlight, her smile radiant. Aemond's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and disbelief as he watched her, unable to tear his eyes away from the vision before him.
"Vaelys," he whispered, his voice trembling with awe and love.
She smiled, that same tender, loving smile that had always made his heart skip a beat. “I’ve been waiting for you."
Aemond sank to his knees beside her and reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of her features.
"I missed you so much," he said, his voice breaking with emotion.
Vaelys placed her hands over his, her touch grounding him in the reality of their reunion. "I missed you too, Aemond," she replied, her eyes glistening with tears. "But now we’re together again, and we have an eternity to share."
He leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the still air of the garden.
Without a word, he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss soft and tender.
It was a kiss that spoke of love, longing, and the promise of forever. In that moment, Aemond knew he was home. His heart was whole once more, mended by the presence of the woman who had always been it's other half.
When they finally pulled apart, Vaelys smiled up at him, her eyes twinkling with mischief and affection. She patted the ground beside her, indicating for him to sit. "Come," she said, her voice as warm and inviting as the sunlit garden around them. "It's time you learned how to make daisy chains."
Aemond chuckled, feeling a lightness in his heart as he settled down beside her. Vaelys reached over and placed a pile of picked daisies in his lap, their delicate petals soft against his skin. She took one flower and began to demonstrate, her fingers nimble and sure as she wove the stems together.
"Watch closely," she instructed, her tone playful yet patient. "It's simple once you get the hang of it."
Aemond watched her intently, his eyes following the movement of her hands. He picked up a daisy and tried to mimic her actions, his larger hands fumbling slightly with the delicate stems. Vaelys laughed softly, her laughter a melody that filled the air with joy.
"Like this," she said, guiding his hands with hers. Together, they worked on the daisy chain, their fingers brushing against each other in a dance of love and connection.
As they wove the flowers together, Aemond felt an overwhelming sense of peace and contentment. Each daisy added to the chain was a symbol of their unbroken bond, a testament to the love that had transcended time and death.
"There you go," Vaelys said, holding up their finished creation. "See? You did it."
Aemond smiled, pride and happiness radiating from him. He took the daisy chain from her hands and gently placed it on her head, crowning her with the delicate flowers.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice filled with gratitude and love. "For everything."
Vaelys reached up and touched the daisy chain, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "We're together now, Aemond," she said softly. "That's all that matters."
And as they sat in the sunlit garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the love they shared, Aemond knew that he had found his paradise. With Vaelys by his side, his heart was whole, and he was finally at peace.
#house of the dragon#aemond targaryen#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd fanfic#aemond fic#aemond x oc#hotd fic#aemond one eye#aemond x original female character#aemond#prince aemond#prince aemond targaryen
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trying out some new ideas
#genderqueer#perfect for me thanks#lgbt#gender#pride month#dat me#art#doodles#love how vague that is. like yeah idk whats going on here but its Non Standard#genderqueer. agender. nonbinary. any of them. sure 👍#i am formally adopting They into my pronouns. still keeping She but now i have Two (2)#they i have always appreciated you and now i claim you as my own#perhaps my preferred gender identity will change. i enjoy the vagueness of Queer in any context#but that's ok. right now i think it suits me#fridge magnets :) you can always change them later#so that's a (checks watch) 13 year long dilemma I can finally put... not quite a lid on. but a piece of foil. yeah
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throwback to when I was in elementary- I think 4th grade- and at Halloween, I was in my standard princess getup and there was this really pretty fellow dressed as the phantom of the opera- my favorite musical. I went to say hi and shake his hand, and he brought it close and kissed the back of my hand with a wink.
It was then I realised the power of a loli/shota/kodo. I remember trying to flirt with more adults after that, but I'll always remember that first guy, even though I'm an adult now
I would've killed to have experienced that 😭 who r uu tell me more stories
although i think if that happened to me i would have been crazy over it n probably went overboard,, i was a surprisingly not a very forward kid bc i knew i was like a dog w a bone when it came to anything i wanted. flirting turned to "dating" and feeling each other up right quick, anger turned to bridge burning and actual burning and destruction,, etc. If someone made the dire mistake of imbuing me with any sort of want it would be their problem 😭😂. give me a slice and i will make it my sole mission to have the whole cake. I've learned well to control the impulses involved but I still have the ambition to eat the world.
(also i feel like people do that stuff for the sole purpose of flattering the subject. in a lot of cultures its pretty regular that if someones dressed like a princess you act like shes a princess,, i should've dressed like royalty more.) (but ofc people on the recieving end sometimes like u or i get excited about it lolz)
#anon response#bro imagine if i was as open as a kid as i am now i wouldve been a total nightmare#'YOUNG MAN GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY COWORKER THIS INSTANT'#'STOP TRYING TO KILL YOUR CLASSMATE'#🥰 people were mean to me anyway i should've had more fun if i was gonna be punished even for doing nothin wrong#oh well still had a way crazier childhood than anyone i know by far#delete later#if people start being weird ab this#honestly tho i'd prefer y'all shoot me a dm if you have something that may come off controversial#for me to respond to#that way i can be a little less 'is this PR friendly' and worry less ab annoying assholes claiming i said things i didnt say#ive had people send me things i genuinely cannot publicly respond to#and while i am intrigued and really hella appreciative that they choose to share and WANT TO respond#i cannot and yall should be aware that it takes a lot of work to balance being 'authentic' and staying mostly unharassed on this site#but i do love hearing everyones stories and feelings and unique stuff so please dont be afraid to talk :3#just know i cannot always respond to some asks for my own peace but will always accept dms#and know that i do read them anyway so if u just want me to see it and not respond thats ok too#i just feel super bad when i have juicy asks in my inbox i cant post
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going through answered asks from when i was 18 wanting to hold myself so tightly
#i’ve never cared for the whole i wish i could see my younger self thing#because from where i was standing it was always still bad so thought why would i want to see them now#things are going to become very hard again very soon but last year was the best year of my entire life#i did something terrifying and then i claimed my life as my own#and a year later i have a car! and im driving! you can’t understand how impossible of a thought this was to me before#i live on my own and i’ve decorated my body and my bedroom and i can buy things i never thought id be able to own#i miss connecting with others my dash is a total wasteland now but i just#seriously cannot believe where i am right now. even though some things are still so screwed up and more screwed things are on the way#and i’m terrified of course. january is the perfect month to feel like ending it all. too much unknown#but still 2023 felt like magic i didn’t deserve and yet i basked in it#i’m not incredibly successful i’m not very interesting but im still so proud of myself somehow. even though i hate myself#it’s not as much as i used to. i appreciate myself more now and i can see how i needed me to get here. and im grateful for me#and for everything i have. i’m just speechless i can’t believe the life i currently have#i’m waiting to enter the era of travelling and intimate get together those areas are still slow coming#but if i could do this i can only hope and hope and squeeze my eyes tight to make them appear someday#i miss so many things but i don’t miss the old me. she sucked but she also cared and she’s still here in fragments#it’s strange to write this way i’ve never felt this sort of compassion before i was so so deeply depressed#it was inescapable and for good reason i don’t know how i made it through anything i’ve endured#i have to thank myself for always being too scared to die
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⦑ 𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 ⦒ ✧.*
NANAMI KENTO X FEM! READER
synopsis: Nanami is pent up after work, so you give him the best fifteen minutes of his day as a reward.
content: 𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈, suit kink, unprotected p in v, hair pulling, degradation kink, semi-public exhibitionism, creampie, manhandling, cumdump, rough, daddy kink, pet name (princess)
a/n: first jjk fic. blond in blue dress shirt supremacy... that is all.
« 758 words┇masterlist┇reblogs appreciated! »
Nanami Kento is the kind of man who fucks hard. Especially after a long day of work and his stress is pent up in his system, Nanami will use your body like the cumdump you are. He claims your body has magical healing powers that can make any headache or muscle cramp disappear.
As he enters your shared home, you, the doting girlfriend as always, greets him: “How was work, honey?” But today, Nanami is not in the mood for conversation. The moment you are close enough to be held by him, he turns you around and without a hesitation says:
“Bend over.” The low drawl and commanding tone in Nanami’s voice triggers a surge of heat towards your belly. He knows you love his directness, and he’s not afraid to make you come in your underwear right now, knowing that he can make you come over and over again until you beg to stop. Looking down, you see how his dick tents over his expensive dress pants, and the mere image of him thinking about you during work or driving home gets you excited.
And that's exactly where you are now. Nanami unbuttons his white suit jacket, tailored so firmly it hugs his trapezius muscles and arms that it needs to be removed for easier movement, easier movement to fuck you senseless without hindrance. His cuffs roll up to his elbows, exposing his forearms that tenses as he unbuckles his belt swiftly with one hand. Then Nanami shuffles his pants down, just enough to take his massive fucking cock out and taunt you with his size. You shift your pants and underwear down yourself, because you know Nanami doesn't like waiting.
Your hole is already dripping wet, expected, the insides of your cunt still remembering how Nanami was fucking your insides into the bed this morning. He can only spare fifteen minutes with you before he leaves for work, and Nanami makes sure you always cum on time. You know your boyfriend is a horndog but he always has the decency, or patience (unlike you) to eat your home cooked dinner first before trying to get you into the bedroom. But today? He can’t wait—and so can’t you.
Nanami doesn’t waste a single second not inside of you. He slams himself right in, and your cunt instantly wraps and tightens around you, remembering the shape of him, just how he likes it. His grip on your love handles is firm, unrelenting. Each thrust of him forces a choked breath out of you, whimpered mumbles of his name to go faster and faster until your pussy catches the high you’ve been so desperate to release.
“K-Kento, what if someone hears us? Or worse… sees us?” You feel a whisk of wind through your calves, and look back to find the door not closed fully.
“Good. Let’s show them how much of a filthy slut you are for taking my cock.” Nanami loosens his tie, and your pussy clenches at the sight of it.
“Fuck, if I didn’t have to go to work, I would be fucking your pussy like my toy from morning to night. Windows wide open. Let them see the slutty look on your face when my cock is inside of you."
“Please, daddy.” You're begging now, your orgasm is threatening for release but you're not quite there yet.
“Say that again. Louder. Can’t hear shit with the sound of my dick slapping into your cunt.” Nanami doesn’t stop, fully intending to keep going until he reaches his own high, and you reaching yours.
“Please daddy... I want all of you...”
“So my load this morning isn’t good enough? You want seconds? Aren't you a greedy little girl?”
He pulls on your hair hard, and the moans that came out of you is indistinguishable from pleasure or pain. An electrifying sensation rushes underneath you, and this time, you give in to the feeling and come on his dick without restraint.
“I’m coming too, princess.” Only when you finishes cumming, he then permits himself to come too. Trails of white strings shoot inside of you, filling every crevice of your insides with his sticky goodness as he lets out a low grunt of pleasure.
When he’s done, Nanami pulls up his pants, and he’s wordless again. He looks at his watch, and it's been exactly fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of sex each time, just as planned, no more and no less. Even with sex, Nanami never goes overtime.
“Can't wait for my fifteen minutes tomorrow, Kento.”
thanks for reading! come check out my other works. —yours truly, rose.
idk who likes jjk in my taglist but i think u guys know
tags: @valsthea @httpsuguru @emilzke @j3llyd0nut @ovaryacted
© roseglazedlens — please do not repost, plagiarise, or feed to ai.
#꒰✒️ rose fics ♡.꒱#nanami x reader#nanami x you#nanami smut#nanami kento#nanami kento smut#nanami kento x reader#jjk#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk season 2#jujutsu nanami#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk nanami#nanami
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[KKB'sMM]JOMO Laundry
I'm sorry for posting this post too late.
It was supposed to be released in January, but I'm posting it now because I'm not feeling well.
It's late, but have a fun and healthy 23 years. Thank you always..
* Don't repost or claim as your own!
* I always appreciate your continued support for me and my content.
* Some items require "The Sims 4 Laundry Day Stuff".
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ミ the mightiest
part 1 | part 2
🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader
🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men
masterlist
reblogs are always enormously appreciated!
notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!
adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!
The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.
It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.
Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.
It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.
Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.
“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.
You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.
“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.
Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.
“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.
He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”
“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.
“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”
Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.
“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”
Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.
“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”
You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.
“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”
There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.
“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”
God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.
“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”
That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.
You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.
And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.
Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.
“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.
You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.
“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”
Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.
“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.
His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.
Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.
If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.
In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.
Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.
And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.
His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.
“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.
It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.
“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.
A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.
“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.
You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.
You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.
He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.
“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.
“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.
Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.
Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”
Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.
“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.
Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.
For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.
“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”
As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.
Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.
You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”
He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”
And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.
“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.
Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.
But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.
You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.
Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.
Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.
“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”
He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!
“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.
You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.
But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.
As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.
“Problem?”
His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”
You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.
The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.
In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.
In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.
You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.
You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.
Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.
But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.
He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.
God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.
Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.
You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.
“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.
You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”
There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.
“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”
Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.
“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.
“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.
You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.
You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.
Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.
Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.
You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.
“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.
You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.
“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.
Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.
Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.
You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.
"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.
In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.
"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.
The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.
Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.
Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.
“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”
Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”
You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”
Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.
“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”
Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.
When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.
"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.
"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."
You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”
“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.
You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.
But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.
His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.
It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.
You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.
“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.
“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”
“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”
You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”
Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.
If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.
You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.
“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.
You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.
“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.
“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.
“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.
Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.
“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.
He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.
Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.
The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.
Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.
“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”
You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.
“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”
Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.
“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”
Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.
“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”
And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.
And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.
Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.
Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.
“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”
“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.
Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.
This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.
His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.
It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.
You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.
You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.
“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”
He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”
It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.
“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”
Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.
“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”
Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.
“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”
Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?
“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”
Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”
Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”
You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.
“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”
Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.
“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.
“Hey–”
As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.
Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.
Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.
You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.
“Tawtute?”
You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.
“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.
Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”
You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ
It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.
You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.
But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.
You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.
Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.
You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.
Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.
There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.
The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.
When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.
“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”
You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.
“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”
“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.
Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.
“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”
“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”
You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.
Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.
You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.
You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.
“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”
You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.
“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.
His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.
“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.
It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?
Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.
“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”
“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.
It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.
“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”
Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”
“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”
Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.
“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.
You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.
“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”
Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.
You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.
“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.
“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”
You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.
“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”
“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.
When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.
Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.
You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.
“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”
“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”
Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.
“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”
The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.
Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.
You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.
You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.
All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.
But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.
“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”
Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.
Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.
“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.
Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.
“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.
There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.
“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.
This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.
Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.
You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.
At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.
“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.
He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.
“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.
“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.
You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.
Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.
“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.
“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.
Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ
You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.
It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.
Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.
Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.
Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.
He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.
You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.
“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.
Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.
You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.
It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.
Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.
Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.
Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.
You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.
You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.
Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.
Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.
Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.
He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.
Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.
It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.
“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.
“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”
“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”
You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.
“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.
“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”
Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.
“Y-yes.” You say.
Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?
“How would you like me to–”
“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.
Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.
The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.
What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.
“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”
“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”
And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.
Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.
“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"
You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.
Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.
“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.
Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.
“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.
You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.
Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.
“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.
You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.
What the fuck?
#on holidays atm and I’ve been stressing about how to post this 😭 I’ll have part 2 posted in a day or two!#neteyam#neteyam x human#neteyam x reader#avatar x reader#na'vi x human#na’vi x reader#awow#avatar way of water#neteyam fic#fics
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Mine
Summary - Cassian always gets a little riled up when he gets to fight for your honor.
Warnings - Blood, smut, focus on reader and Cassian's differences physically, reader is thick because it felt right, oral (female receiving), Cassian going to pound town.
A/N - based on this post and our comments from @loneliestluvr I refuse to apologize for how quickly this became smut.
Being mated to the Lord of Bloodshed was never easy, especially as an illyrian female blessed to have found him before your wings were taken. “Sorry,” you whispered as he flinched. You had got to the cut on his eyebrow, wiping it down as gently as you could.
Cassian was covered in blood. A mix of his own and another male's who had not known you were claimed by the male sitting in front of you. “You okay?” He had his eyes shut as you took care of him, content under the feel of your soft hands.
“You're the one who ended up in a fight with 6 other males and walked away. I should be asking you that.” You gently reset and healed his nose, silently thanking the Mother for such a useful gift.
Everything about you two had been so perfectly planned. The skilled warrior. Loud, personable, quick on his feet. Then you, the talented healer. Intelligent, shy, soft spoken. You were balanced perfectly. A match truly made by the Gods. You continued wiping the blood from him, ensuring he would not have to change the water multiple times once you got him bathed and stepped away before offering him your hand.
It was another contrast between you two and Cassian's absolute favorite. Your soft manicured hands, his rough and calloused ones. He laced your fingers together, pretending to allow you to pull him up at he stood. “I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guys.” He smiled at his own joke, walking into the bathroom of the cabin. “Are you going to undress me too?”
“Absolutely.” You were graceful with buckle, each tie, gently pulling armor and fabric from his body until it sat on the vanity nearby. Habit took over as you folded it all, putting the clothing into baskets to be cleaned before turning back to the god in fae form behind you.
The moan Cassian released as he sunk into the warm water had your thighs clenching. You watched his head fall back as lavender scented steam came from the tub and as his shoulders fell in relaxation. “Can I wash your hair?” He groaned again at the thought, smiling as you sat behind him with the soap. “Need to show you my love and appreciation for protecting me.”
He gave a breathy laugh, shutting his eyes in bliss as you began massaging shampoo into his wavy locks. “I will always protect you, y/n. Always. You are mine.”
“I am,” he growled at your agreement, his need to possess you was high. Illyrians had always been more feral with their bonds, and you absolutely allowed him to enjoy the primal tendencies that came with it. “I will always be yours. In this life and the next.” You began rinsing his hair, ensuring every spec of blood and dirt was out before applying a deep conditioner.
“Lean forward so I can wash your back, Cassian.”
“I don't deserve you,” he was drifting off under your touch, enjoying the feeling of you kneading sore muscles as you lathered his scarred skin with a soft scented soap. “Could you get my wings?”
You leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I planned on getting them once I got you fully cleaned and the water changed.”
“Fuck that,” Cassian forced you over, pulling you in thin night gown and all before ripping it off of you. His lips were on yours and hungry. He was grabbing your hips, loving their plushy feel. “Want you now.”
“Cass, this water is disgusting.”
His head hit the tub with a thud. “Fine. Fine. It's fine.” He was, in fact, not fine. You could feel how hard he was. His length was pressing into your stomach. “I just need you. You know how I get when you take care of me.”
You were washing him again. Cleaning off his chest and face, scrubbing his arms. He was memorized by you by your body. He remembered learning about the Gods of old from Rhysand's mother, and you had to have been crafted by the goddess of love. It was another contrast. His rock-hard body, toned and cut from years of training. Your soft body, curves landing in all the right places, thighs so thick you genuinely worried when you sat on his face.
He lifted you with little effort when he knew he was clean, climbing out of the water with his lips attached to the point on your neck that drove you wild. “Done waiting,” he carried you to the bedroom, sucking that spot until he knew a deep purple mark would form.
He threw you down on the bed, not caring that it would soak the sheets and mattress as he watched your full breasts bounce. When he was like this, you knew you were in for a ride. Knew that headboard wouldn't be enough to keep you in place as he pounded into you over and over again, only content when he had ensured you were filled and would smell like him and sex for weeks. He was studying you like you were his prey, waiting to pounce at just the right time.
He found it as you shifted, laying down more on the pillows like the queen he knew you were. He did not bother kissing your lips again. Instead, it was him instantly pulling your legs over his shoulders and licking your already soaked core. Your hands shot to his hair, moans ripping through your throat. He was eager tonight. So damn eager.
“Cassian,” he hummed against you, looking up through hooded lust filled eyes. “Slow down.”
He shook his head, not even letting your clit out of his mouth as he did. “Baby, I'm going to cum if you don't go slower.” His brows shot up and a smirk formed. It spoke of every intention he had, you would not leave this bed, not without him carrying you.
Every flick of his tongue, every long drag, the soft kisses all had you melting further Into the mattress as your nerves came to life. Cassian was as calculated in bed as he was on a battlefield. Everything was precise, done with intention, and meant to fulfill his goal. His forearm went against your hips, locking you in place at his mercy.
He could feel every wave of pleasure from you shooting down that sacred and special bond. He could sense the moment you fell. Your fingers tightened on the sheets, your back arched, it was silence before the scream. Between your own pleasure, you could feel his pride leaking down the bond. Pride with how easily he could pull you apart with nothing more than his tongue. Pride over the way your body was so easily his.
He only pulled away when you began to whimper and push, but he was instantly crashing his lips on yours as he kicked off his pants. His forehead went to yours once you were both breathless. Those Hazel eyes you melted in the gaze of were feral and dark with desire. In one smooth motion with no warning, Cassian was inside of you with one single word, “Mine.”
There was no split second of calm before the storm, no moment to catch your breath after he took it from you. Cassian began to pound into you, hitting that perfect spot and making you see stars. Your nails dug into his chest, leaving small marks to join the littering scars and cuts from his earlier fight. “Mine,” the growl was deep, an ancient part of him almost begging for affirmation of the word.
“Yours,” you moaned out for him, back arching as your stomach tightened. “All yours.” Cassian's arm went across your back, hand roughly gripping your hips he could force you to move exactly how he wanted.
You could hardly breathe, mind lost to anything but Cassian. Your mate. Your everything. You could feel him down the bond, feel him getting closer with each squeeze and twitch of your walls. The room was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the sound of his groans and you whispering and moaning his name like a prayer to some long forgotten God. “So fucking beautiful,” his free hand forced your head up, forcing you to watch as his cock slid in and out of your core, soaked in your essence. “Watch me fuck you. Watch me mark this pretty perfect pussy as mine.”
You couldn't help but to moan, feeling that edge approaching faster and faster with his. “Cassie.”
“Do it. Cum on my cock, baby.” He let you go limp below him, placing your head back on the pillows gently as he did. Wave after wave of need and pleasure washed over you, blinding your senses to anything but the feel of Cassian filling you as you Came around him. He fucked you through the high before finally finishing, not even bothering to pull out and opting to instead hold your hips so close to his you could not even tell where he began and you ended.
When he finally let you go, he barely caught himself before collapsing on top of you as his exhaustion hit him. You could help but place soft kissed along his face. His scarred brow and lip, his nose that you'd reset and healed so many times, his jaw. You finally sighed with one last lingering kiss directly on his full lips as he smiled. “That was faster than I hoped it would be.”
“Always is when you fuck me after fighting.”
“Always yours.”
He kissed your neck softly on the mark he made, whispering one last time. “Mine.”
General Taglist:
@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects
#acotar#acotar x reader#cassian acotar#cassian x you#cassian x reader#cassian x y/n#cassian fic#cassian smut#cassian of illyria#lord of bloodshed
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Forget Me Not | 7
You and Azriel begin again.
WC: 5.1k
Warnings: References to past SA, finally some fluff, smut, p in v, dirty talk, oral, really just some lovey dirty scenes
a/n: This is it, we've reached the end of Forget Me Not! Thank you to everyone for supporting my first ACOTAR work on here. I'm currently writing another Az oneshot right now, so stay tuned if you liked my writing :)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
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Entering Azriel's bedroom felt different this time around. You had grown so accustomed to his absence in the past week that the feeling of him behind you sent shivers down your spine.
The room went from being cold and empty to warm and stifling. Your nerves were giddy under your skin, jumping with insecurity and excitement as the shadowsinger guided you to the middle of the space.
"It smells like you in here," he commented, voice soft and amused.
You tried not to feel embarrassed. "I missed you. I'm sorry if it was inappropriate or rude to intrude on your space. It helped me to be in here."
Azriel turned you around to face him, pulling you closer once more. His fingertips brushed the skin of your face lightly, caressing your chin between his thumb and forefinger before his eyes swept up to meet your own.
"You're my mate," he said gently, and you tracked the way his lips curved around the words. "I want you here. I want this entire space smelling of you in every way possible."
Your breath caught at his words, at the underlying tone and implication. Gods, you wanted to eat him alive. You wanted him to eat you alive.
"Azriel..." you whispered, your lips inching forward toward his own. His eyes dropped down to meet the movement, flicking back up to your own before being drawn to your mouth once again.
"We don't have to do anything tonight."
You knew that. You knew he would wait, would be patient as you navigated your newfound relationship with him and how it intertwined with your trauma. But you also knew that you felt so safe and warm and complete there in his arms, and you knew you wanted him.
"I know. But I want to."
He shuddered, and the hand flexed against your lower back tightened imperceptibly. "Are you sure?"
Looking at the male in front of you, at his kind hazel eyes, his soft pink lips waiting to claim you, his gentle touch so calm and undemanding, you were absolutely sure. You felt that thrum of love flow in your chest, and the reminder that it was going both ways made you melt further into him.
"Yes." You barely got the word out before you brought your lips to his.
He brought you into him gently, his hands summoning you to meet the rest of his body, like a wave rocking you softly in its rhythm until you laid smoothly against the warm shore. You curled into him instinctually, your hands making their way up his chest and onto his skin, feeling and grasping, grabbing at anything they could claim.
He made a small noise into your mouth, as if he couldn't help it, and your knees shook slightly at the reaction. He tasted like how it felt to drink water, and you felt so dehydrated, like you could drown in him and never quite have enough.
You pushed into him harder, but he kept his touch on you light, holding you but not using the strength you could feel in his muscles. Your tongue found the the opening to his mouth, and he let you in seamlessly, letting you guide the kiss, take what you needed.
Mor had always said that Azriel never had issues finding partners. There were rumors about the shadowsinger, about his highly-praised (and well above-average) attributes, his talents in the bedroom, and his wide range of sexual interests. But he wasn't taking that control he was so often associated with. He was allowing you to dominate, to take control, and to do what you wanted to him.
You wondered how often Azriel had given the reigns to someone else in the past, and your heart thumped with appreciation.
Your fingers found his leathers, trying to remove them from his torso as your tongue explored his own. His own scarred hands found your own to help, pulling back slightly to give your bottom lip a nip before pulling the fabric from his body.
You nearly groaned in impatience in the few seconds he was pulled away from you, but then you were able to freely roam his warm skin. He was smooth, and muscled, and scarred, and warm, and you could have licked up his torso if it wasn't for the way he immediately dove back into a kiss, his gentle hands cupping your face and strong forearms framing your neck.
There was more force behind his actions this time, but he kept you in control, allowing you to move the both of you back toward the bed, allowing your own hands to remove your nightgown from your body and letting it drop to the floor.
You pulled him on top of you in his blankets, giving him a kiss before pulling back. His gold green eyes were blazing in the darkness of the bedroom, the starlight shining through the window illuminating the light in them.
"Touch me," you begged him, fingers tangling in his hair.
His biceps cradled where your head laid, and you wanted to turn and kiss up the strong arms, to touch him everywhere you could. But you needed his hands on you, his mouth, his entire body.
"You don't need to beg. I'll do anything you want."
And then his lips were trailing along your jaw, skimming and nipping down your neck, sending your chin tipping back to give him more access. His tongue soothed where his teeth nipped, and his breath tickled your skin in all of the right, sensitive places.
Chills went down your spine as he moved lower, worshipping the skin over your collarbone, down your sternum, until he reached your breasts. His eyes met yours through dark lashes, and you nearly jerked your core up to meet his hips at the look he gave you.
Then his tongue was wrapping around your nipple, and you gasped. He teased and flicked and sucked and grasped, and you were writhing, gripping his hair and sucking in harsh breaths.
You had never felt so sensitive, so willing to unravel for a male before.
His free hand was stroking the rest of your skin lightly, his fingertips just barely meeting your body in teasing motions, sending goosebumps to the surface to meet him. By the time that hand skimmed over your other breast, you were ready to start begging again.
But Azriel was perceptive -- when it came to his surroundings and especially when it came to you -- so he didn't make you wait long nor beg. He changed his direction immediately to your other breast, allowing the cool air to tease the one he had worked while giving equal attention to the next.
You were becoming greedy yourself, your fingers skimming down his muscled back, searching for any part of him you could touch. His broad shoulders enveloped your form underneath him, and you loved it, loved him, loved feeling shielded by him. His dark wings were drawn tight along his back, as if he was focused on you and only you, not allowing any part of himself to relax or benefit quite yet. You wanted to touch them, make him lose his resolve-
His mouth moved lower, traveling along your stomach until he reached the band of your underwear, mouthing along the edge. His large fingers dwarfed the elastic, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the sight. But you couldn't do anything but nod when he looked to you for permission.
He gave your lower stomach one last kiss before pulling the underwear down your legs, his fingers trailing after the fabric as if he were tracing a painting, a piece of artwork he would need to commit to memory.
His lips kissed up your ankle, up your thigh, before landing on your hipbone, your leg resting over his shoulder lightly.
Then his hot breath met your core and your head was tilting back, the anticipation causing your body to shudder and your hips to buck. His strong forearm came down on your hips in response, holding you to the bed before placing his mouth on you.
And gods, did he feel good.
From the moment his tongue lightly traced up your core, you knew that he knew what he was doing.
He didn't dive into you haphazardly, not rough nor starved-- he moved with precision, teasing and flicking, and making you ache and ache and ache.
His free hand gripped the inside of one of your thighs, pushing your leg open slightly to give him more access. And when he moaned at the taste of you, you couldn't help but let out a small cry in response.
"I'd be the happiest male if I could spend the rest of my life between your legs."
He sounded absolutely devastated.
He kissed along your inner thighs once more, one finger stroking up you before circling your clit and moving back down again. Your breathing was heavy with his actions, trying to monitor where he was going, what he was doing, how he was pulling on every nerve ending in your body.
Then his middle finger was easing its way into your entrance, and you were gasping, back arching from the bed.
Your hands gripped the covers as his mouth found your clit again, the dual sensation nearly taking you to your release already. His finger moved inside of you, not necessarily searching but instead attempting to stretch you for him, get you ready if you were to move forward to anything more tonight. The thought nearly made you feral.
"Please-" you choked out. You didn't know what you were begging for, what you were trying to say, but you just needed more of him. All you would ever need for the rest of your life was him.
Another finger prodded at your entrance, and then he was stretching you further, his thick fingers moving and curling inside of you until you saw stars. It was as if the roof to the House of Wind had blown off and you could see the skies above you, Azriel's siphons gleaming behind your eyelids.
He didn't give as he guided you higher, fingers and tongue moving together with a rhythm you would worship him over later. The noises coming from you, the gasping, the whimpering, would have been embarrassing if you could have even heard any of it over the ringing in your ears, over the pure pleasure coursing through your veins.
When you tipped over the edge, Azriel kept himself attached to you, his one arm keeping you in place as you shook against the bed, your fingers gripping his hair and your eyes squeezing shut with the overwhelming pleasure.
It wasn't until your grip loosened on him that he pulled back, drawing his fingers from your core and bringing them up to his mouth. You could barely see him through the haze going through your mind, and the fact that he hadn't done the action as a display for you, but because he wanted to, felt the need to, had you nearly cumming again.
You attempted to catch your breath as he stood from his position, the strain at the front of his leathers nearly making your mouth water. You wanted more, needed more, needed your mate -- all of him.
Your limbs shook with exertion as you pulled yourself to your knees on the bed, reaching for his waistband. His hands caught your wrists, however, bringing them back down to your sides as he leaned down and placed a surprisingly heartfelt kiss on your forehead.
"Another time," he told you. "I just want you right now."
And you were not about to refuse him that.
You let him guide you back down onto the pillows, his hand ensuring one was under your head before letting you go and moving to remove his pants. The sight that greeted you was otherworldly.
You had heard rumors. But he was unreal.
And his slight smirk and posturing said he knew it.
You smiled at him before you could help it, gesturing for him to return to you. He was back on top of you before you could blink, and his mouth was on yours. You could feel as some of the control he always seemed to need took over for him, allowing him to curl his tongue against your own, to bite at your bottom lip, to grip your body just a little harder against his own.
"What do you want, sweetheart?" His voice was gravelly in your ear, and you preened against him, pressing your breasts against his chest.
"You, please, I want all of you. I've always wanted you."
He could have teased you for how desperate you sounded, the breathiness of your voice, the way you lifted your hips to meet his, to try to draw him in. But he didn't. Instead, he pulled his lips away from your own, allowing them to just barely brush before declaring his love for you.
He swallowed harshly before speaking the words again. "I love you."
You nodded, feeling emotions building in your chest, feeling that golden tie blazing bright. "I love you, Azriel."
And in that moment, not even yet physically connected, you knew you and him could get through anything together. You were willing to die for the male above you and he for you. While the past could not be ignored, your future together held hope and promise, and you would latch onto that with everything you had, gripping that golden thread with a vengeance.
"Show me," you told him, your eyes watering despite yourself.
And then his lips were on yours again, and the passion behind the kiss sent your head reeling. You felt the head of him press against you before a slight stretch stung between your legs. You gasped into his mouth at the feeling, at the weight of him moving inside of you, and he welcomed your reaction, peppering kisses over your cheeks as you adjusted.
He was large, but you loved it. Loved every inch of him inside of you. Loved the feeling of him filling you physically and emotionally, the golden thread growing brighter and brighter the further he entered you, the more he filled and touched every part of you.
And the feeling seemed to make its way through your entire body, fire lighting in your soul, igniting pleasure in your core that shot to your fingertips and toes.
You moaned when he finally seated himself all the way inside you, his hands coming up to cup your face and make sure you were okay. You couldn’t help the tears rolling silently down your cheeks, the overwhelming emotion that was building inside of you. You had loved this male for so long, and here he was, connected to you on a whole other level, loving you, and you could feel it coming from deep in his soul.
“Are you alright?” He asked softly, kissing at your temple.
“Yes. I’m just happy.”
He swallowed hard at your words and soft smile, kissing you again before slowly pulling out of you and making his way back in. The movement sent sparks floating in your vision, and his answering grunt was enough to have you grasping at his shoulders.
His hands found your own, pulling them from around him and instead intertwining your fingers together with his, laying them gently by your head as he encased your body with his own. His wings spread above you two like a blanket, like the dark of night and his comforting shadows, and you held tightly onto him.
“I love you,” he told you again, as if he had been trying to hold the words back.
“My mate.” You smiled at him, and his pace picked up. His thrusts went from being slow and sensual to passionate and hard, and you brought your mouth to his shoulder to try to cover the loud noise that escaped you at the pleasure of him.
“You’re so perfect. Everything about you is absolutely unbelievable.”
But what you were feeling was even more so. Every inch of him, every rigid muscle, every texture of smooth and scarred skin, made you want to hold onto him and never let go. A bliss unlike any other followed each of his strokes into you, filling you with love and passion and sending blood rushing to your core.
You were absolutely drenched, his hips moving so easily in and out of the bracket of your legs, that you would have been embarrassed if not for the noises of pure male satisfaction coming from Azriel.
He was enjoying you as much as you were enjoying him, and the thought sent a wave of pride through you.
His thick length continued to spread you open with each thrust, and you don’t think you’d ever felt so satisfied and full. He was touching every part inside of you, from your entrance to your cervix to the bond singing in your chest, he was pushed up against your walls and throbbing.
You cried out as he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you, and one of his hands immediately broke from your own and came down to the peak of your thighs, fingers finding the bud and rubbing and circling until your toes were curling-
“I-I can’t…” you gasped out.
“I’ve got you,” Azriel cooed. “Let me see my mate fall apart. Let me take care of you.”
And you knew he would. He held you tightly, protectively covering you with his own body, his other arm looping around your waist to pull your hips closer to his own.
Then you were rising and falling, clenching so tightly around him you thought you might be causing him pain. But all you could focus on was the bliss shooting through your body, the shaking of your limbs, the white blinding your vision, and the gold gleaming in your chest.
By the Cauldron, you were trembling, your entire body overcome with pleasure, and Azriel guided you through it, speaking sweet words in your hair, hand still moving, hips still pumping.
“Gods, you feel so good,” he grunted out. “My perfect mate. My everything.”
Your mind was ringing with the aftershocks of your orgasm, your body relaxed and tingling and high up in the clouds. But you savored the moment still, your fingers brushing over the muscles in Azriel’s shoulders, feeling them move and tense under your touch, the obvious strength under his skin causing you to clench around him.
He cursed, spreading your legs further for him and dropping his forehead to rest against your own.
“Where do you want me?”
Everywhere. You wanted him inside you forever, you wanted him buried as far as he could go.
“Inside me. Please.”
His eyes squeezed shut at your words, a guttural moan leaving his throat. You already were imagining how the male above you would look completely unleashed, allowing his kinks and obsession with control to ravish you in the bedroom. Next time, you told yourself, you would break that leash he held on himself, and you would let him completely and utterly tear you to shreds.
“Fuck, sweetheart.”
His rough tone had you bucking your hips to meet his, and then his hands were gripping your hips hard, his fingertips digging into the skin, holding you still and tight until it ached and bruised and you were keening into him.
Heat swelled inside of you as he emptied himself, and you let out a moan of your own at the feeling, both of your satisfied noises melding together to create a sound you would commit to memory.
He was panting and grunting and you could feel your wetness mixing with Azriel’s spend as it leaked its way out from inside of you and around your thighs. He pulsed and pulsed and you couldn’t help your body’s own reaction at the sensation as you clenched in return.
It was overwhelming and otherworldly and you would never get enough of it.
When he was finished, he nearly collapsed above you, catching himself with his strong hands, his hair falling into his eyes. He looked so beautiful. So relaxed and undone and glowing.
You loved him so incredibly much.
He didn’t remove himself from your body, only looked at you as if he couldn’t really believe you were there, that this wasn’t a dream.
You pushed yourself up slightly, lightly pressing a gentle kiss to his sharp jaw. He sighed at the action, closing his eyes and savoring it, and you immediately wanted to do it again.
He swallowed before meeting your eyes again. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
You grasped him tighter. “Stay.”
He chuckled, and the unguarded, light sound had a smile breaking onto your face in return.
“We have all night together,” he reassured. “Let me do this right.”
His thumb stroked over your cheek, and you wanted to smile, to cry, to kiss him. But you let him do what he needed to feel like a good mate and caretaker. He planted one last soft kiss to your lips before gently removing himself from you. You inhaled sharply at the absence of him and at the feeling of his seed leaking from you, already missing the way he felt.
He glanced down to watch as he dripped down your core and thighs, eyes gleaming at the sight. He was then ripping himself away, as if watching any longer would prevent him from moving from your side, would cause him to dive down face-first into you once again.
You watched him walk to his bathroom, his muscular backside a sight against the moonlight shining in his room. You wanted to run after him, to tackle him to the bathroom floor and ride him again right there.
You controlled yourself, though, and waited for his return. He was gentle as he cleaned you up with a washcloth, covering you with a shirt of his own and placing a glass of water on his bedside table.
Once he joined you under the covers, you turned to face him, hand reaching out for him on instinct, and he welcomed the movement immediately. His arms pulled you close, and the connection felt so natural, as if the two of you had never not been in the others’ arms.
His wings, now relaxed with contentment, circled around the two of you, causing you to move closer to him.
“Rest,” he said finally, voice thick with exhaustion. “We can talk more in the morning.”
You nodded, tracing your fingers down his chest.
“You’ll be here?”
His bright eyes met your own, and your heart clenched as he repeated those words he had said months ago in your bedroom, when you hadn’t believed him for a second, when your body was the exact opposite as it was now, turned away from him and guarded.
“I’m not leaving,” he spoke softly. “Never again.”
And you believed him.
—————————
It was the best night of sleep you had gotten in awhile. You had never felt so safe and comforted than surrounded by Azriel, by his arms, his wings, his covers, and in his room. Everything that was him was all around you, and you basked in it.
When you both had awoken, the shadowsinger watched as you dressed with his heart in his eyes, and you gestured for him to do the same so the two of you could get some food and start your day.
What you hadn’t prepared for, was Cassian and Rhys sitting in the kitchen with smirks on their faces.
“Good morning,” Rhysand commented, his lips shaped into a shit-eating grin as he brought his mug to his mouth.
“Rhys,” Azriel greeted, his voice holding a low tone of warning.
Cassian looked over his shoulder at the two of you from where he was making his breakfast, scrunching his nose as if pretending to smell what you had been up to.
“You know,” he said nonchalantly, “I was right this whole time. I called you two being mates months ago.”
“Technically, Feyre guessed correctly first.” Rhys interrupted.
“We get it.” Azriel moved closer to Cassian’s side, snagging a piece of bacon from his plate. “I was an idiot.”
Rhys gave you a wink at Azriel’s words and you nearly blushed.
“Not anymore, it seems.”
Azriel gave the high lord a look, and Rhysand let out a laugh. “Alright, alright. Just come see me when you have a minute. We have to go over a few things with the Illyrian camps.”
Azriel nodded at his friend and the two shared a heartfelt look between them. You had always admired the trio’s friendship, the way they would lay their lives on the line for one another without question.
“Seriously though, I am happy for you both,” Rhys said, to which Cassian turned around and gave you a look of agreement. “But if either of you are idiots again, I’m kicking you out of Velaris.”
That sounded about right.
“Alright, out.” Azriel demanded, pushing his brothers out of the kitchen.
They bickered back and forth with one another to the door, and you couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto your face. This was your family, your friends, and your mate. This was your home.
When Azriel was back in the kitchen, he sighed at their antics, but you could tell he was endeared with his brothers.
He gave you a kiss on the top of your head before moving to the cabinets, pulling out some ingredients to make you breakfast. The sight of your mate cooking for you reminded you of the bond in your chest, the expectation there.
You two were mates, that much was obvious. You felt the golden presence in your chest, you could feel your partner within you should he allow it, but you hadn't technically accepted it yet -- accepted him yet.
And despite how much you loved him, you weren't ready to.
As if sensing the shift in your comfort, Azriel turned to look at you.
"You okay?" He asked, fingers setting the pieces of bread he had gotten out on the counter.
"Yeah, just thinking," you tried to give him a small smile.
"What about?"
His full attention was on you, and your nerves tingled under the weight of his gaze. You both were moving forward, and you didn't want to mess this up, didn't want to make you both take steps backward in your progress, but you also didn't want to be stupid. So much had happened in the past few months, and you wanted to be smart, confident, and sure in each of your decisions. You had so much taken away from you recently, you wanted for once to be able to plan and experience and allow for some natural growth.
"What if I told you I wanted to wait to accept the mating bond?"
Azriel's eyes softened, and you couldn't help the pang of guilt that shot through your chest at the thought of your words hurting him, making him doubt himself and how you felt about him.
"I'll wait however long you need," he told you, voice resolute.
"I want to be your mate. I am your mate," you clarified. "I just think we should give ourselves some time before a ceremony or something. We can go on dates, court a little bit, and I'd like to get to the point where I feel comfortable with us around Elain."
He flinched slightly at her name, at the reminder of what he had done to you, how he had been so focused on the middle-Archeron sister, she had smothered his thoughts of you.
The feelings made their way down the bond, and you knew this was another thing that would take some time. The two of you may be dealing with the repercussions of the past few months for a while, but time would help, and you both were ready to move forward with one another.
"It's okay," you told him gently.
He nodded, giving you a soft doubtful smile, but still he moved to your side and tilted your head up, pulling your lips to his own.
"I love you," he reminded you.
"And I, you."
His lips brushed against your own again, and you leaned in further, wanting to connect yourself further. He pulled back.
"When you want to accept the bond, I will give you whatever you want. A private ceremony, a party celebrated throughout all of Velaris, you name it. You just let me know when."
And you would. In the meantime, the two of you would go on dates, would talk more about your pasts and histories, would go back to sharing your interests and visiting that pastry shop you loved so much.
Azriel would make you feel wanted and loved, and you would make him feel like the kind-hearted hero he was. The two of you would hang around the rest of the inner circle side-by-side. Even when Elain was present and Azriel's guilt thudded through the bond, you would move forward. You felt nothing toward her on his end but regret, and you felt the love being pushed through the bond toward you instead.
It would take time and commitment, but you were ready with him by your side. And he reminded you every day that he was not leaving. The two of you were a package deal now -- hand-in-hand, together.
And a year later, when Azriel walked through the doors of the House of Wind to find you in the kitchen, slaving away at a recipe you had spoken of multiple times, nerves thrumming down the bond and your rosy cheeks showing your flustered state, his heart thumped in his chest.
You gave him a soft smile, your hair messy with your efforts, and your outfit messed up from cooking. And he was so in love.
A bowl placed on the dining table, a candle lit, and a glass of wine poured.
Tears filled his eyes, because he never thought he would deserve this. Not a year ago, and not now.
But you only smiled at him, nodding with encouragement.
And then his tears were falling, his shadows swarming over you until you released contagious giggles, and he was scarfing down the food like a man starved for weeks.
If someone had told Azriel a year ago, that in the very same spot he nearly dropped to his knees at the opportunity to make the broken girl in front of him a mug of tea, he would be granted the blessing of her mating bond, he wouldn't have believed it.
But as the golden thread in his chest pulsed and shined and glimmered with love and renewed strength, he cried.
I'm yours, it spoke to him. And you are mine.
And forever will we be tied together.
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part ii of the dragon shouto au : prequel + part i
warnings: unedited lol, afab implied fem reader, possessive dragon boyfriend shouto, unrealistically excellent first time, 18+ minors please dni!!
the thing about having a human-shaped shouto on your hands was that he didn't quite seem to understand humans did things differently than dragons.
where before you'd cuddle up against shouto in his dragon form and spend the night insulated under his thick leathery wings, or let him rest his head in your lap as you absently stroked his scales—those things took on an entirely different connotation when you thought about performing them with a human man.
particularly a human man who looked like shouto.
shouto did not appreciate the distinction.
"i am yours and you are mine," he said simply, the third night after he'd transformed.
you'd tried to take him home, at first, unclear about what to do with an entire human man on your hands, but had quickly realized this unwise.
your parents, ordinarily traditional and fussy, had been floored by the audacity of your bringing a man home still unwed. but they had kept their distance once shouto's pupils went slitted, and a familiar guttural noise tore out of him when they attempted to remove you from him, not-quite-human-teeth snapping.
it was exactly as it had been when you'd brought him home as a child, and he a lizard the size of a fat cat. he'd staked an unmistakable claim on you, and any hand that got between you two would be severed.
so you'd taken shouto back out into the field where he'd transformed, in the interest of keeping your family home intact. you'd lit a fire again, camping out with him over night, trying to keep your distance and failing.
"it's different with humans," you said, freezing when shouto's head suddenly appeared in your lap. he looked up at you expectantly, those blue and grey eyes searching your face, a tiny frown on his lovely mouth.
"it is not different. you are mine in any form," he said. a large, elegant-fingered hand caught yours, guiding your hand up to his hair.
you laughed despite yourself, his insistence on being pet all too familiar in any form as well. carefully, you stroked your fingers through the red and white strands, marveling at their silky softness. shouto's eyes slipped closed and he let out a contented huff, long eyelashes sweeping the tops of his cheeks.
your face heated. he was very beautiful.
"in human custom, i can only belong to one man," you said to shouto, unable to keep the dismay from your voice.
you did not want to take a husband, and it would be all the more difficult now that the entire village had seen human shouto trailing after you the last few days, following you as he always did in his dragon form. except now they had all seen very human, very male hands on you, had seen how closely shouto shadowed you, as if your body was an extension of his own, and no space was needed between you.
you knew there was already talk.
"i am one man," shouto rumbled, turning his face into your stomach. something fluttery jumped in your stomach as the feeling of his soft exhalation over your hip bone.
"i meant a husband, shouto," you said. "i am obliged to take a husband."
shouto was quiet a moment, before another slow, hot breath warmed the fabric of your shirt. "you said i was the only boy for you."
something lightning hot raced up your spine, embarrassment mixed with the thrill of the implication. you looked into the fire for something to do with your attention, watching the flames lick over the logs.
"i said that when you were a dragon," you hissed, your ears prickling with heat. "i didn't mean you would be my husband."
a strong arm wound its way around your waist, pulling you that much closer to shouto, locking you against him. a fiery blue eye cracked open, fixing on you with inhuman intensity. the pupil looked a little slitted in the firelight, and you swallowed in apprehension.
"i am yours and you are mine. if that means i am to be your husband then i will be," shouto said with unmistakable decisiveness.
the thing in your stomach fluttered again, and your thighs shifted beneath shouto's head. his other hand gripped the flesh above your knee, holding you in place.
you choked, your hands freezing in shouto's mop of white-and-scarlet hair. "you don't know what that means."
his hands tightened on you. "i have lived among your people nearly as long as you have. i am not unfamiliar with human custom."
your face burned, words slipping out of your reach. did he really understand what he was saying here? you'd known he'd long understood you, but it had never been clearly exactly how much his dragon brain was processing. but now...
"but you can't—if you know what it means—shouto, you can't—"
a hot mouth met the skin of your stomach, just under your shirt, and the words choked off in your throat. a slow, careful nip to your skin made you freeze.
"i will be your husband and you will be mine," he purred, his voice slightly muffled against your skin. his mouth dragged over your hip.
your hand fisted in his hair, gripping on for purchase. shouto did not seem to mind, his mouth mapping the edge of your stomach, your hip, the waistline of your unladylike trousers.
a shaky breath escaped you. "there are parts of a human union, though, shouto, that i'm not sure you, um, quite understand."
the hand at your knee slid up your thigh as the hand at your back disappeared, reappearing at your hip, pulling the waist of your pants a little lower.
"i understand," shouto replied, his mouth meeting the newly exposed strip of skin above your pelvis. it was only his grip on you, the weight of him across your legs that kept you from jumping a mile into the air. "i have taken this form for that reason."
words failed you, their meanings slipping right out of your mind as shouto's mouth moved painfully gently and deliberately lower and lower.
"ah, shouto—" you managed.
shouto hummed, and you felt his eyelashes flutter against the skin of your stomach, though most of his face was obscured by the fall of your shirt.
"you smell like mine," he rumbled into your skin, sounding altogether too pleased. "i will make it so. i will keep you and care for you as you have kept and cared for me."
another trembling breath quivered in your lungs before you found yourself flat on your back on the ground. shouto had somehow managed to keep himself beneath your shirt, only this time his mouth met the underside of your chest bindings.
"you like it," his voice sounded wondering where it issued from beneath your shirt. you'd have found it comical if not for what he was saying. "you like this form—i can smell it."
his weight moved on your legs, shifting into the cradle of your thighs. he was so warm and broad over you, hot as fire even though the shirt and trousers you'd managed to wrangle him into.
you did not like being laid so bare, but shouto was your oldest friend, and your attention was rapidly being subsumed not by his words but by the feeling of your chest bindings coming undone under your shirt.
"shouto—you are, um, of course very handsome," you said, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders. you thought you should push him away to have this conversation from a safer distance, but your arms were barren of the strength to do so, instead clutching him closer. "but you've only been a man for a couple of days. what if there are other women who—oh—oh!"
a hot mouth closed over your left nipple, soft but firm as if in reprimand. "there are no other women. there is only you."
a hot tongue, a little longer than you thought might be normal, laved over the peak. your hips pressed up into shouto without your say so, hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. he was doing a little too well under there.
"sho—shouto," you said when he found the other breast, long fingers pulling your bindings down to expose it to him. you'd never had a man's mouth on you before, except for the kiss shouto had given you upon first transforming.
the feeling was mind-numbingly good, and suddenly the idea of a husband—of shouto as your husband—was altogether too appealing, if this is what it was going to be like.
your hips shifted into him again, and you felt his rumbling purr in the meat of your breast.
"my treasure. mine." shouto said when he finally seemed satisfied with the attention he'd lavished on your breasts.
he pulled himself back out of your shirt, leaning in to take your mouth instead as he laid himself out over you. you could feel something firm and insistent press against your inner thigh, hot and hard and unmistakable.
shivers crawled up your skin, little frissons of pleasure.
"say you will be mine," shouto puffed against your mouth, his hands already yanking at your trousers. "please say you will be mine."
he was so handsome over you, your most steadfast friend wearing the most beautiful face you had ever seen, new to you and yet so undeniably familiar, somehow. the sight of him settled that feeling inside you you'd had your entire life, the feeling that the thing you were meant for was just out of reach, just beyond the next corner.
he looked like everything you were meant for—everything that was meant for you.
feeling strangely squirmish and shy, you managed an answer. "i always have been."
a heartbreakingly beautiful grin swept over shouto's mouth, a sweet half-moon. his pupils were unmistakably slitted, his two-toned eyes looking just as they did in his dragon form.
in a few shift movements shouto had you both divested of your trousers, and was pressing slowly, carefully inside you.
the feeling was strange, foreign. but with shouto over you, the weight of him holding you down kept you grounded, and soft kisses to your neck and shoulder kept you just distracted enough as he slid home inside of you.
you felt full in a way you'd never imagined, physically and otherwise. your nerves sparked to life when two of shouto's fingers found their way to where you connected, pressing firmly over your clit. a shivery moan escaped you, and shouto's mouth clamped down lightly over your shoulder.
"mine, mine, mine," he groaned into your skin, flexing his hips. the slide of him inside you was better than you'd known it would be, especially when he cupped the small of your back, pulling you into him at an angle.
between his fingers on your clit, rubbing little insistent circles, and the press of him inside of you, you quickly grew frantic, returning his thrusts with eager motions of your own hips, reveling in the way it sent sparks skittering up all your nerve endings.
your liked the way your breasts pressed into his chest, the firm way he held you to him, the bruises he was sucking into the skin of your neck. talented fingers pinched carefully at your clit, a slurry of sensation.
he seemed determined to work you up, hard and fast, and he was succeeding. you felt like pudding in his hands, melting, dripping, hot over his fingers. every single one of his movements seemed calculated to drive you insane, drive you to writhe against him harder, more desperately.
in no time at all you were gasping his name into the cool night air, chasing the release of an unfamiliar pressure.
"let go, love," shouto said, kissing your mouth again. "let go and be mine."
you nodded, words failing you as something inside of you snapped and a tidal wave of pleasure crashed into you, sweeping away all thought. shouto fucked you right through it, his groans rumbling into growls, full-throated and deep. the slide of him inside you became almost too much and you squirmed underneath him, but couldn't bring yourself to want it to stop.
shouto's thrusts grew faster, messier. you heard his fingers rake the ground at the side of your head as he finally came too, his slender hips grinding into your thigh as he spilled inside of you. he went rigid over you, huffing your name, until finally he relaxed into you, his hard body pinning you to the ground.
"this will be an interesting conversation to have," you said some minutes later, when both of you had settled. your hands found their way into shouto's hair again and he pressed up into them like a pleased tomcat.
"there will be no question now. you are my mate, and i am your husband," shouto said, sounding smug. his eyes were closed but you thought they would be glittering with pleasure if they were open.
"we'll still need to do the human ceremony," you said. "but i can't imagine anyone could stop us."
shouto all but purred. "i will eat them if they try."
you laughed, yanking on his hair. "you will do no such thing."
"then i will fly you off to the nearest cave and mate you so thoroughly no questions could ever be asked," he said instead. "there will be no doubt you are mine."
your thighs clenched involuntarily around his hips, and you could tell by the flutter of his long lashes that he was suppressing a smug expression.
"maybe for the honeymoon," you allowed, trying not to sound too interested.
but shouto was your oldest friend and you were learning he'd long known everything about you. "definitely for the honeymoon," he decided, shifting to pull you into the circle of his arms, tucked safely into his side.
you settled into his embrace, feeling truly content for the first time in your life, certain of the one thing shouto had been insisting this whole time.
you were his, and he was yours. always.
#shouto x reader#todoroki x reader#todoroki shouto x reader#todoroki shouto smut#shoto x reader#character: todoroki shouto#dragon shouto au
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"Sandstorms aren't all that bad."
Feyd-Rautha x Reader
dividers: @cafekitsune @rookthornesartistry
Request: Yes
Summary: When Feyd-Rautha and Y/n are stuck in a cave during a sandstorm on Arrakis, they both confess their feelings for one another and find a way to pass the time.
Warnings: smut, breeding kink, dry humping, creampie, ink-pie, feyd in love, rough sex, soft!feyd, rough!feyd during sex, marking
Word Count: 2k
Disclaimer: I don't own Dune or its characters, nor do I claim them as my own.
Comments likes, and reblogs are always adored and appreciated xx
Feyd monitored the spice harvesting on Arrakis carefully, his eyes watching intently; he heard the large doors open, and his head looked over his shoulder slightly. A smirk dancing on his lips, eating some fruit from his knife, he spun around, blue eyes falling on her figure. “Y/n, my darling, you’ve finally arrived. How do you like my Arrakis?” He gestured with his arms wide, a broad grin on his face Y/n swayed her body, her eyes taking in the room around her. “Your Arrakis is beautiful, my lord Na-Baron. I’d love to see more. Would you indulge me?” Y/n gave him a sultry look. Feyd tilted his head, his eyes raking over her body, tongue darting out to lick his lips. “But of course, what kind of governor of Arrakis would I be if I didn’t show my darling all its beauty? Come beautiful girl” His hand grasped hers, leading them to the Ornithopters; he lifted Y/n inside before climbing in and sitting beside her, starting the giant flying machine and taking them into the sky. Y/n admired the vast barren lands below. Feyd would often look over, a smile gracing his face. An alarm began to sound, alerting Feyd of an upcoming sandstorm. Y/n looked at Feyd with a worried expression. “What is happening, Feyd?”
The Harkonnen grunted in annoyance, looking for somewhere to land. “We have to find some safe to stay until all this passes. We will never make it back to Arrakeen through the sandstorm.” Feyd finds a large rock formation amongst the dunes, landing the ornithopter safely inside the cavern covering the cave entrance to protect them. Feyd helped grab Y/n’s body, placing her on the sand; the two looked around as Feyd scouted the small cave. “It looks safe enough, no sign of any rats.” Feyd’s raspy voice echoed Y/n sat down, her legs crossed. Feyd sat beside her. “How long do sandstorms last here on Arrakis?”
Y/n asked gently. Feyd shrugged his shoulders. “It varies on the storm’s severity; Arrakis is known for its hostility. Do not worry; it shouldn’t be long” Feyd prepared something for them to sleep in, gathering items from the ornithopter Y/n watched how resourceful and quickly Feyd had set everything up. “We will have to sleep in here together, and exposure to spices will affect our health. I have the equipment to make sure we will be alright.” Feyd explained Y/n nodded, listening to him. Her mind was entranced by his voice, his words, his eyes. Everything about him made her heart race; her thoughts were constantly occupied with him. In her dreams, she wanted him, and he wanted her; he had made his desire for her evident, but he never made his move. Y/n thought he didn’t feel anything for her anymore whenever they were alone. Feyd would speak sweet nothings in her ear; his lips would brush her pulse on her neck. But Feyd protected her from his Uncle; Y/n would be in danger daily while his Uncle breathed. With every retched breath that the old man took, he would plot to kill Y/n. Feyd couldn’t stomach the idea of losing her. So he would always love her but keep her at a distance; now he was Na-Baron, and his role in House Harkonnen has changed; he is now in a position where he has more power. Even so, over his Uncle, if he plays his cards right, he could overthrow him and take the title of Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. And Y/n, she would be his Baroness.
Hours passed, and the sandstorm showed no signs of releasing its hold on the barren land. The sand and wind grip was too powerful for it to be a one-day storm. Feyd and Y/n lay under the protective shelter, hearing the wind howl. Y/n and Feyd lay facing one another; their soft breaths drowned out by the raging storm around them. Feyd had his arm draped loosely over Y/n’s waist, his face an inch away from hers. Feyd’s eyes often opened to ensure Y/n was okay, his blue eyes studying her face. Y/n looked peaceful; she always was in his presence. His ache for her continued to grow over their growing up; Y/n was a high born like Feyd, and his uncle, the Baron, had what surprised many in the imperium: a great friendship with Y/n’s father—both as cunning and strategic as each other which made them both brutal pairing. Feyd may have scoffed at his uncle’s friendship, but in that friendship, he gained Y/n. Since childhood, Feyd and Y/n were inseparable; Feyd always kept close, serving as a protection shield. Never let any man near her, let alone touch her. Feyd believed the only man with such privilege should be him and him alone. And typically, whatever the Na-Baron wants, he gets.
Y/n felt eyes upon her, causing her body to stir. Her eyes opened, seeing Feyd give a warm smile. “Feyd,” her voice was full of sleep; the Harkonnen brushed his knuckles along her cheek. “Y/n,” he whispered back, his lips quirked into a slight smirk; his voice sent shivers through her body. “Do you feel anything for me?” She asked Feyd, her fingers touching his cheek softly. Feyd’s eyes closed at the touch, breathing deeply; his hand fell on hers. His lips brushed her wrist Y/n’s lips parted slightly, watching Feyd her heart racing. Feyd moved her hand off his face and laid it back down. “Go to sleep; this storm doesn’t sound like it is clearing soon; we might be stuck here for some time” “ he murmured, his eyes falling closed once again Y/n blinked back tears as she turned to face her back to him. Trying not to cry, she slowly fell back asleep.
When morning came, Y/n heard movement behind Feyd’s hand on her shoulder, waking her gently. “The storm has passed, and we must return to Arrakeen before another storm comes.” Feyd sat on his knees as he gathered everything. Y/n stood and raked her fingers through her hair, looking down at Feyd. “Why do you do this?” She questioned him, and her tone made his heart freeze. His head turned to face her, his eyes narrowed. “Why do I do what?” He counter-asked Y/n and crossed her arms. “Lure me in, with sweet words, the brush of your hands against mine. You act like you love me or you desire me, but then you push me. I want to know why,” Y/n told him as Feyd stood, his blue eyes eyeing her with a glint of amusement. His tongue swiping his lips, Y/n walked towards him.
“I know how I feel about you, and I may be stupid to think you feel the same. But I know you, Feyd-Rautha, you let your guard down around me. You are not the fearsome Na-Baron that everyone cowers before. So, if you even think about backing out on me now, I’ll make you regret it until your last breath”, Y/n panted heavily. Feyd smirked, pushing her against the wall, his body pressed to hers. Y/n let out a small moan at the contact as Feyd leaned in close, his breath fanning her face, his lips dangerously close to hers. “Beautiful girl, if you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk. I want to hear those words leave those pretty lips. Tell me you want me to claim you as mine so no other man can have you. I will do so, and I’ll make sure everyone can see just how much of a needy girl you are for me. And show that you belong to me, as I belong to you. So, let me hear you beg for me. And I’ll fulfil your every desire” He grinned, his ink-black teeth bared, making Y/n weak in the knees and her arousal pool in between her thighs, dripping down her legs. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him…God, I want to fuck him. She thought, cupping his face and pressing his lips to his passionately, both moaning into the kiss.
Feyd’s hand gripped her waist, his hands digging into her skin. Y/n gasped, Feyd’s tongue invading her mouth “Feyd”, Y/n breathed his name, making the Harkonnen groan, pulling away from the kiss, his eyes closed. Pressing his head to hers, he cupped her cheek. “I love it when you say my name. So pretty,” He murmured Y/n kissed his jaw, whispering in his ear, “Feyd” Feeling him remove her still suit, he moved her away from the wall and laid her on the blanket on the ground. His hips rocked against hers, and the roughness of his still suit rubbing on her silk undergarments made her whine underneath him.
Grinning like a madman, Y/n stared into Feyd’s blue eyes, darkened with lust. Y/n’s body glistened with sweat, the rising heat from the dunes surrounding them, as well as the heat blooming from their bodies writhing in pleasure. Feyd grunted, his hips rutting faster Y/n’s legs wrapped around his waist, her back arched. “Feyd” “ she cried, her hands holding onto his arms. Feyd panted, snarling; his fingers ripped her last piece of fabric, his thumb rubbing her swollen pearl, making her body jolt. Looking down, seeing her pussy convulse as her white cum leaked out between her thighs, coating his still suit. Feyd chuckled, unbuckling his still suit pants and removing his hard cock from its confines, rolling Y/n onto her stomach.
Pulling her back by her hips, Feyd leant over her body, kissing her shoulder and neck. “Remember you asked for this beautiful girl? Are you sure you want it?” Feyd’s raspy voice made her nod, and her head hung forward, moaning; looking behind her, she gazed into his eyes. “Please, Feyd, I’ve wanted this for so long” “ she begged him. Feyd’s eyes softened at her plea, and kissed her lips softly before entering her in one harsh thrust. Their sounds of loud moans and skin slapping echoed in the small cave. Feyd wasted no time in thrusting into her hard, her velvet walls sucking him in greedily, making him laugh. Y/n’s whines and moans spurred Feyd to fuck her into the ground with no mercy. She wanted him to fuck her and claim her, then he’ll give her what she wants. “Y/n, my love, you were made for me. No other man will have you; I’ve always ensured that. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. You have always been mine, as I’ve always been yours.”
Y/n gasped, feeling his cock hit her sweet spot; her walls clenched at his words. You have always been mine, as I’ve always been yours. Feyd did love her; he admitted it; he shared her feelings Y/n felt tears brim in her eyes as Feyd pulled out of her and flipped her onto her back. He re-entered her Y/n’s body moulded into his as if they were made for each other. Locking eyes, both letting out shuddering breaths, Y/n wrapped her legs around his waist. Feyd kissed her neck, the sheer force of his thrusts leaving Y/n breathless. Writhing underneath, she felt her second climax approaching; a string of broken moans and cries told Feyd she was close. “Are you close, beautiful girl, hmm?” He purred, kissing her lips, tongue licking her lips, and teeth scraping her bottom lip. He could feel her walls throbbing around his cock; his eyes closed, his head hung forward Y/n let out a loud gasp feeling her body shudder and her thighs jolt at the orgasmic pleasure spreading through her body. “Feyd, please” “ she begged to kiss his neck. “I want to fill me up, mark me”, She moaned as Feyd growled, his teeth latching onto her neck and biting harshly as he came inside her filling her with his hot ink-black cum. Y/n sobbed, her body arching into his chest, the lovers breathing heavily; their eyes looked between Y/n’s thighs stained with black. Feyd smirked as he licked his lips at her slightly widened eyes.
“You begged and wanted to be claimed, so I did it.”
sdt: @valeskafics @austinbutlermischief @feydsociety @austinbutlerslovers @austinstyles @lady-phasma @barbiedragon @abswifey
#smut#dune part two#austin butler#feyd rautha#oneshots#feyd rautha x reader#request#my fic#missjadesfics#feyd rautha x reader smut
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You Can Run, but You Can’t Hide
Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!Reader
Natasha always knew the truth, but it wasn’t until a mission where she had you alone that she set her plan in motion. Come the end of the trip she planned to make your hers in the most natural way—claimed and bred. | WC: 1,440
Warnings: NC Themes (Discarding of hormone blockers) | Guns / Death (to Hydra)
Smut: Kotenok (R) | Penetration (P in V — Natasha has a penis) | Public (Over [a balcony railing]) | Choking | Breeding
Natasha watched the way you paced around the room, it'd been a weeks time since you'd arrived in this hotel. A mission that you were assigned on with Natasha, an Avenger first, Alpha second, but nonetheless an Alpha.
Which would be fine, since you were a beta, but with your medicine missing the truth was coming to light. The truth that the redhead was aware of from the second the lie left your lips, you were an omega; hers, waiting for what, she didn’t know, but she was over it.
———
That's why she took your stash of hormone blockers and poured them down the toilet on night one, at first she appreciated your concealment since she was busy. Missions were at an all time high last year when you joined Shield, but with the incoming fall of Hydra, as this mission is designed for such a thing, there was no longer a need for you to hide from predatory alpha's.
Natasha was here now, to make sure they all knew you were hers. Hers to claim, to wreck, to fill with her pups.
Her cock twitched when she got a whiff of your scent, it was dull from the prolonged use of drugs, but it was still clear enough for her to feel comforted by the soft swirls of cinnamon and vanilla. Then it soured as your body began to fight against the natural, debilitating heat that followed a sudden change, such as quitting your meds. Natasha was quick to croon from the other room, pumping out thick pheromones as she slowly entered the room. You looked up at her so pitifully.
"Oh kotenok," she coo'd, "You don't look too good, what's wrong beta? Are you going through a period?"
You whimpered, body trembling as your natural instincts made you throw yourself into her chest. "Alpha please." Natasha wrapped her arms around you, and held you close enough that you could feel her twitch through her pants. You cried and she smirked. “Oh, what a naughty girl, you’re no beta after all…”
Judging by her teasing tone, you understood that she knew, and with the way she gripped you, it was even more clear what had happened to your supply. You should be angry, but you were actually relieved. A single alpha like Natasha was rare to find, she was kind, soft when off the clock, and gorgeous in all facets. You’d almost poured the pills down the drain yourself every time you caught her staring at you after an event.
“I’m sorry, but please don’t pull away, I-I need you.”
"Are you gonna tell me why you've been hiding?"
"I-I wasn't ready to give up my life just yet, but fuck, I swear I'm ready now, if it's with you alpha, please."
"We have a mission," she reminded you, her eyes cast outside the window to catch movement of the enemy.
"Please!" You gripped her biceps, body shivering at the chiseled muscles that flexed beneath your fingers, if you didn't need her before, you sure did now. "Shit."
Natasha kept your body from falling with the buckle of your knees, her free hand reached for her long rifle and she took the both of you outside onto the balcony.
"I'll fuck you," she gave in with ease, and you purred softly at the good news. Then you felt her slipping your pants off and softly shrieked, "We're outside Natasha, anyone can see us." She chuckled, "Good observation."
Natasha continued to strip you while her other hand set her gun up on its stand, a bit of a multitasker.
"I can wait," you tried to stop her, but not really as you arched your bare ass into her dicks imprint, your body having a mind of its own, your heat was too strong. "Well, I don't want to detka, I've waited far too long."
Though you’d guessed it, you were shocked at the way she confirmed it without an ounce of shame. “Y-you knew?" Natasha gripped your hip, and brought your dripping entrance to her thick tip. "Of course I did, you can't hide from a super soldier's senses," her nose nuzzled over your neck and you whimpered at the hopeful promise of her claiming you. No longer were you worried about anyone seeing you two, the rest of the world faded away as she slipped herself inside.
Her hips stayed still, allowing your slick walls a moment to catch up with the stretch before she was lifting you off the ground. "Na-Natasha, what are..."
The redhead grunted as she lifted your body onto the railing by her grip around the nape of your neck, and you cried out in both fear and pleasure. It was muffled as she alluringly slid her hand around to squeeze your throat. The tip of her cock had slammed into your cervix just as you stared down at the far away ground, full of tiny silhouettes to remind you it was day time.
The railing shook as Natasha picked up a brutal pace, her face never lost its smirk as she felt your legs wrap around her backside, your heels painfully dug into her covered back. "Alpha, I-I'm not sure about..."
"You wanted to be filled Y/N," she taunted, "I said we had a mission, that means you'll take your pleasure while I do all of the work. Be thankful, not bratty."
"Sorry Alpha," you whimpered, and held on tighter.
"There's the leader," she pointlessly alerted you, who couldn't see anything other than her demise if she slips over the railing. Your walls were clenching so hard, hoping to instigate her knot so that you'd have a more secure base, but it was fruitless. Natasha's stamina was unworldly, and you were completely at her mercy here.
You heard a muffled shot go off over the sound of the railing squeaking beneath your moving body, then the gun was going off again. "Partner is down, two to go."
Natasha picked up her pace, and was rewarded with your filthy moans that were once muffled by your fear, and she knew she wouldn't last much longer. Which was fortunate for the both of you since she already shot another member, and was left with the other who had caught sight of the both of you. He was stuck in place, unable to comprehend that he was going to die by the hands of the Black Widow, who was railing her omega.
Natasha smirked, and finally gave into your cries to be upright. She grunted as your back pressed to her front and your slick, from your first orgasm, ran down her legs. "Last one detka, keep him distracted for me."
Your eyes locked on the others, the mans mouth was agape as he watched you get railed, it distracted him from the red dot that illuminated his forehead. He was clearly unaware of his fate as his eyes lost their life but you were aware of yours as her knot locked in place and her potent stream of cum filled you with a future.
"You are going to look so beautiful full of my pups," Natasha hoarsely groaned against your neck, her teeth barely scraped over your sensitive gland and you mewled, your walls milked her cock even more and her knot subsequently deflated after a minute of your persistence . “Fuck, I need to fill you again kotenok.”
Her strong hands held you by your hips as she carried you back into the hotel room. She laid you flat on the mattress, and pulled out of you, just long enough to flip you over and thrust right back inside of you. It was loud as your arousals rushed out, only to be sloshed all over the place as her cock entered you mid disposal.
Your body then thrashed at the harsh fill up and her canines dug into your scent gland, leaving behind her unbreakable mark as your core fluttered around her as you came again without much work. "Keep squeezing me just like that detka and we'll never be apart again."
"Good," you sighed softly, happiness clear in your eyes, "I was getting tired of being apart to begin with."
Natasha chuckled, and leaned in to chastely kiss your lips, "It was your choice to hide detka, I was waiting."
"I'm glad you grew impatient," you mused, then you nervously pressed a kiss to her neck, wet lips grazed over her scent gland. "Can I claim you too, Alpha?"
"Wait," she whispered, voice raspy as she began to pump in and out of you, "Wait for my knot detka..."
#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff fanfic#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff x y/n#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff x female reader#natasha x reader#natasha x y/n#natasha x you#natasha x fem!reader#gxg
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There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?
What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?
Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.
Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI
A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later.
It was officially time for a reread.
Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.
Eventually.
Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie
So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers.
Fingers crossed.
Later that Evening…
The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts.
“Bird?”
The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter.
His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels.
“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.
“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin.
Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more.
“Oh baby, I love.”
Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this.
You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.
“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”
“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”
“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt.
“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.
The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall.
However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.
“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp.
“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.
“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner.
‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’
Fifteen Minutes Later…
You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.
“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”
Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal.
Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.
This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.
Or so you assumed, anyway.
“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”
“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate.
“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.
“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.
Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…
You wait.
It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.
“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.
“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”
“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.
“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”
“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.
“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin.
“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.
“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”
You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.
“Thank you, Ari.”
“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.”
And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was.
“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”
Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.
“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”
“Why?”
Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you
“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”
“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”
Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.
“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down.
But your man’s not done yet.
You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.
Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more.
“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.”
Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words.
“Ari, wait.”
“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”
“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”
“Great. So how about you –”
“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”
Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said.
“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.
“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”
“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?”
“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”
“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”
“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”
“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”
“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.”
You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act.
“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”
“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”
“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves.
“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.
“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw.
“I suppose that’s fair.”
“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.
“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns.
“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.
Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking.
“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”
“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.”
Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?
“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”
“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily.
“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”
END
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white horse
pairing: spencer reid x reader
summary: spencer notices a change in you and helps you in his own spencer way
warnings: mostly fluff, grief mentions.
a/n: wrote this short thing to fix my spencer reid obsession! AI AUDIOS in the fic also reblogs, asks, and replies are so appreciated and encouraged! thank u kisses
wc: 1k
"my heart always wants to run."
Spencer was unfocused.
The hum of the air conditioner in the precinct wasn’t enough to drown out the thousands of thoughts in his head. What he should have been doing was analyzing the geographical profile of the current unsub, maybe even collecting witness statements or completing paperwork, but no. Spencer Reid was unfocused on the case and completely focused on you.
Ever since Hotch presented the case your entire body language had changed. It was like you had folded in on yourself, deflated in a way that made Spencer’s heart crunch. On the flight to LA, you nervously bit at your nails as the team spoke, bouncing ideas off each other, not contributing to the conversation like you usually did. You took a backseat in this case and for the life of him, Spencer couldn’t figure out why.
The minute you joined the BAU you were as elusive as they came. You barely spoke about yourself, never attended group gatherings, and kept conversations strictly professional. Spencer used to brainstorm reasons as to why you were so reserved, but he stopped once he started thinking of ways to get you to like him.
He would bring you the mini muffins from the cafeteria that were always sold out by noon, but you would always politely decline and claim you had just eaten. He would sit next to you on the jet and make small talk to which you replied with one-word answers. He always made an effort to include you in conversations not pertaining to work but you just would not budge. The only time he got a glimpse into the real you was when he made a stupid off-hand joke about Aristotle and you chuckled from your desk. He did his best to ignore the feeling that swelled in his chest.
Now he was getting a glimpse into your life in a way that he didn’t expect. You were on edge. Something about this case was personal to you. He noticed it in the way you took small gasps every time a new body was found, or how you opted to do paperwork instead of being in the field. As someone who has seen you do a million takedowns with a smile on your face, Spencer knew something was wrong when you opted to stay back. The unsub was kidnapping pairs of sisters, murdering one, and letting the other live. It was gruesome and cruel, and he was accelerating. Spencer should have been doing literally anything to help, but his attention was on you.
“I can feel you staring,” you breathed from your place at the large conference table, not looking up from the paperwork.
“Oh, uh-” Spencer fumbled as he sat up, “I’m not- I wasn’t really staring, I would say I was observing.”
You put your pen down and looked up at him, eyes squinted as you looked at his face, “Why?”
There was an edge to your voice, like you were already pissed and he was just making it worse.
“Well, you usually write faster, you have a notch in between your eyebrows like you’re thinking really hard about something, or trying not to. And you, uh, scratch the back of your ear when you’re nervous,” he blurted out, sitting up straighter, “and uh, I wanted to make sure you were… okay,”
His last sentence made you sit up straighter as your whole face softened. You looked down at the papers in front of you then back up at him, “I didn’t realize anyone noticed,” you whispered voice low.
“Well,” he started, getting up and moving to sit down next to you, “you’re one of us… aaand we’re profilers, we kind of notice these things.”
You let out a small laugh as you shook your head and looked up at him. His hazel eyes were practically sparkling as he stared at you. If you were being completely honest, it was intimidating.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been,” you squint your eyes, thinking of the word to think of, “distant. I’m just not used to all of this, it’s overwhelming.”
“No, it’s okay,” he said almost instantly, voice soft, “This job is a lot, I don’t blame you. But today… this case,” his voice trailed off.
You took a deep sigh, resting your hands in your hands as you shut your eyes for a minute before you spoke, “My sister… she died. I don’t want to talk about it but, this case reminds me of it. Reminds me of her.”
“I understand,” Spencer hummed, in such a soft voice that it almost instantly soothed you.
“God, it happened so long ago I just don’t understand why I can’t get over it,” you shook your head, rubbing at your face before speaking again, “it’s like every time I remember it, I shut down. It’s like I’m broken or something.”
Spencer paused for a moment, looking you over before speaking, “Did you know that grief can actually alter your brain chemistry? Research has shown that the intense emotions associated with grief can increase levels of cortisol which can impact memory and cognitive function. In fact, there's evidence suggesting that the brain of a grieving person might resemble that of someone with a traumatic brain injury.”
You looked over at him, eyes a little wide as if you were taking in everything he just said.
“I don’t know if that helps but-” Spencer started but was cut off by the sound of your voice.
“It helps,” you breathed a laugh, “it really helps, so uh, thanks.”
“You know, I’m always here if you need someone to talk to-” He spoke before tumbling over his words, “I mean we’re all here if you need someone, not just me but all of us.”
You gave him a tight-lipped smile which he returned, “Thank you, Spencer,” you looked back at your paper before glancing back at him, “I might take you up on that offer.”
With his cheeks tinged pink, he nodded, picked up his messenger bag and exited the precinct conference room where Derek was stood in the doorway, clapping a hand on his back as he exited, “You’re in deep, pretty boy,” he commented with a laugh.
“Shut up,” Spencer said under his breath, his cheeks now growing a shade or two darker.
You had said maybe the most you ever had to him in your entire four months of working there and Spencer left the room blushing. He was for sure in deep.
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#dr spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fic#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfic
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seasons of you.
pairing: minho x reader
genre/warnings: established relationship, tooth-rotting fluff or at least i hope so lmao, not v edited and literally no one is surprised lol i sound like a broken record atp just adding that into every post
word count: 0.7k
note: inspired by a highly fucked up thing that @matchannie said to me yesterday lmao it has not left my brain since you said it you absolute monster
as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡
navigation / masterlist / ko-fi
minho falls in love with you four times a year.
minho falls in love with you in the spring, over blooming cherry blossoms and vibrant daffodils that greet you on your weekly sunset walk. over the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his own without soft fluffy gloves getting in the way, now that it's finally warm enough to retire that extra layer of protection for the season. over the sun coming out of hibernation and filling your days with golden light, falling upon your face and casting you in a magical hue. over the remnants of winter that still leave behind a palpable chill in the air early in the morning or late in the night, that has you reaching out for the comfort of his warmth. over your delighted smile when he brings home a bouquet of tulips after a long day at work. over your glassy eyes, reddened nose and flushed cheeks as he takes care of you when the seasonal allergies kick in.
minho falls in love with you in the summer, over picnics in the park where you both lay on blue gingham picnic blankets, your head on his chest, as you watch the clouds overhead drift peacefully. over watermelon gelatos passed between teasing lips, the confectionary melting too quickly for your liking under the blazing sunlight. over spontaneous drives to the beach even though neither of you can swim, but you go just for fun, just to build sand sculptures in the shape of your cat babies and stand on the edge of the water to splash at each other. over long naps on the couch on days where you're too lazy to venture into the outside heat, preferring to stay cuddled up together under the air conditioner with niki playing in the background.
minho falls in love with you in fall, over shared slices of pumpkin pie as you watch the leaves turn yellow and red right outside your window. over the adorable way you hide your face behind your hands on nights where he puts on a horror movie because he insists on honoring the halloween spirit. over your off-key rendition of taylor swift's all too well (the 10-minute version) for most of the season because you adamantly claim that it's autumn's official anthem. over weekends spent attached at the hip, baking sugar cookies for hours on end. over your crestfallen pout as you take note of how the days keep getting shorter and shorter, already missing warm sunny weeks with all your heart.
minho falls in love with you in winter, over matching scarves and beanies, even though he often has to carry them for you because you have a bad habit of forgetting them before you go out. over the first snow of the season because they say that if you witness the first snowfall with the person you love, then you will stay together for a long, long time. over sweet cuddles in bed as a bad christmas movie plays on tv, and you fall asleep on his shoulder about half an hour into the movie despite being the one to select the movie in the first place. over your return from a shopping spree with your girlfriends with nothing for yourself but everything for soondoongdori, from christmas themed clothes to treats and toys.
but then again, maybe it's not entirely accurate to say that minho falls in love you merely four times a year. if he wants to be precise, then he would say that he falls for you anew every morning he wakes up and sees you asleep in his arms like a delicate miracle granted by a star he once used to wish upon. if he wants to get technical, then he falls in love with you with every smile that you send his way, which is a terribly sappy thing for him to admit but it doesn't make the statement any less true.
minho loves you every day of every week, of every month, of every year. he's loved you before he even met you, when you were just a romanticized idea in his head and hadn't yet walked into his life like the angel he was always meant to find. he loves you every minute of every hour; there isn't a second where you're not on his mind, not a single beat of his heart that doesn't spell out your name. he loves you throughout the seasons and a million times in between.
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all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 08.04.2024]
#stray kids fic#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#skz fic#skz imagines#skz x reader#skz x you#lee know fluff#lee know scenarios#lee know x reader#lee know imagines#lee know x you#lee minho x reader#lee minho x you#stray kids#lee know#lee minho
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His Kiss, The Riot
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader
Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.
Word Count: 1.6k
TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)
This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.
AO3
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.
The devil takes this Orpheus
And his belladonna kiss
“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”
Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”
The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?
“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”
You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.
“Conditions?” You whispered.
“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.
“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”
The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.
“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”
Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?
“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”
Nothing makes a man so bold
As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold
“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.
Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.
“Now meet them or face the consequences.”
The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.
“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”
Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.
“So it shall begin!”
But all alone his blood runs thin
And doubt—doubt comes in
The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.
“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.
“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.
“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.
Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.
Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.
“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.
“Let’s go fetch my bride.”
Dangerous this jack of hearts
It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.
A life with your love was within reach.
The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.
This was going well. Too well.
The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.
He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.
The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.
Oh no.
The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.
“You were so close!”
Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.
“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”
Then his blade pierced the man you love.
Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.
With his kiss, the riot starts
His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.
You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.
A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.
Red flooded your vision.
With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.
“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”
Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.
“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.
“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”
He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.
The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,
“Good girl.”
An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.
As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,
“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”
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