#we need a shrubbery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

captainfern · 1 year

Text

Stay Away

Captain John Price x fem!reader

[“Stay Away” by Nirvana]

[18+]

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

• summary - while on a mission, you and price are exposed to some kind of chemical. it’s a fuck-or-die situation lol. • rating - 18+ [mdni] • wordcount - 3.3k • warnings - fem!reader, sex pollen, unprotected piv, slight dom!price, praise kink, slight degradation [use of slut, etc], corruption kink? idk, mad dirty talk, strong language, a bit of fluff at the end <3

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

Just another day at the office, you tried to convince yourself as you trekked through the jungle.

Every shake of shrubbery or cracking of branches made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You clutched your gun tighter to your chest, finger poised by the trigger. You stepped carefully, avoiding piles of dried leaves where you knew some kind of venomous snake would be lurking.

Ahead of you, your captain scouted the area, two large hands holding his gun to his chest, mimicking you. He effortlessly stepped over a fallen tree. You almost fucking slipped when you tried to do the same.

“Keeping up, sergeant?” He called to you over his shoulder, and you grimaced in return, hastily flicking some kind of bug off of your shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” You mumbled bitterly, just as the jungle around you began to thin and a strange smell began to permeate around you.

Price lifted a hand, placing it gently against your chest as you came to a stop beside him. He pointed through the break in the tree line, to where a large warehouse jutted out of the muddy jungle floor. The smell had gotten stronger: a scent that seemed to be a tangy mixture of citrus and bleach. Like someone’s cheap laundry detergent.

“There’s no guards,” you stated, nodding at the warehouse. “That’s strange, isn’t it?”

Price hummed around the cigar hanging from his lips, before grabbing it and flicking it away. “Very strange.”

Was that a fire hazard? Maybe. Probably.

He stepped through the tree line, scanning the clearing. You followed after him, your gun at the ready. The two of you approached the warehouse, finding an unguarded door leading directly inside. You carefully pushed it open, slipping inside without a sound.

Price was close behind you— you could almost feel his breath against the back of your neck— as you moved in tandem through the shadows. The deathly quiet of the warehouse was unnerving and the sound of your heart hammering against your ribcage seemed to echo painfully loud.

The smell was getting stronger, too: eyes stinging, tears gathering in your lash line; thoughts muddling together, growing dizzy. You felt hot all over, your clothes suddenly burning against your skin.

And it only got worse when you opened the door of the warehouse’s laboratory. The smell hit you like a wall. Your body lit up with a tingling sensation, skin prickling as though you were standing directly in front of an open fire. A thin sheen of sweat was accumulating on your brow, the back of your neck. A droplet of sweat rolled beneath your tee.

“What the fuck is this stuff?” You coughed, noticing a powdery-yellow residue dusted across a nearby counter.

A hand clamped around your wrist. You hissed, burning. It was Price, his own dark eyes lined with moisture, squinting like he was looking directly into the sun. “We need to go.”

You blinked harshly at him, yanking your arm away. “But the mission—?”

“Now.”

Your stomach flipped, body growing even hotter at his dark tone. You followed him like a dog as he led you out of the warehouse and back into the humidity of the thick jungle. Eventually, you were far enough away where you couldn’t smell that acrid aroma.

You rubbed at your eyes when you and Price finally stopped walking. “What the hell was that stuff?” You queried, looking over at Price for answers.

He was staring off into the distance, eyes glassy and skin flushed red. His breathing was growing heavy, and he had a white-knuckle grip on his gun.

“Captain?” You approached carefully. “Price?”

He snapped his head to look at you, shifting out of his trance. He sighed, running a hand down his face, before clearing his throat.

“Let’s find that safe house,” he said. “And hopefully it has some fucking whiskey.”

•°•

Half an hour later, the safe house had been successfully located, and you and the captain were locked safely inside. You should’ve been comfortable: the safe house was small but cosy, with soft fabric sofas and— hallelujah— a working toilet and shower. The sounds of the jungle could be heard directly outside.

But, you weren’t comfortable.

Far from it.

You sat on one of the soft sofas, breath coming in shallow pants. Your skin was on fire, face burning, skin covered in a shiny layer of sweat. Your head was spinning, eyes still watery, and— the worst of it all— your cunt was throbbing.

You could feel it: your arousal dripping into the fabric of your underwear, pooling against the burning flesh of your arse. Your hole was dripping, clit aching. You were so fucking horny it wasn’t even funny. Inside your ribcage, your heart was beating faster and faster, rattling around in your chest cavity, making your breathing stutter.

You let out a low whine, heat rushing through your body. You needed to cum.

And it seemed Price was much the same: exiting the bathroom, sticky with sweat, hair damp and pressed against his forehead. Beneath his beard, his cheeks blossomed red. The exposed skin of his forearms was red too, burning up as he took a seat on the couch opposite you. He spread his legs, resting his arms across his chest.

Your eyes skimmed over him. The position he was in made you whimper and screw your eyes shut.

“Y’all right, sergeant?” He breathed, voice hoarse.

“No,” you whined. “I’m gonna die.”

“You’re not gonna die,” Price said. “You just… you just need to, uh, release.”

Your eyes snapped open. “What?”

Price breathed deeply. “I’ve heard of this chemical before. It’s a sex pollen. You… you just need to cum and you’ll feel better.”

You blushed even harder, the words spoken by your captain like lava, burning you. Your cunt throbbed, pulsing with its own heartbeat. You whined.

You noticed Price shift, palming at himself over his pants. You looked over to him, where his cock strained hard against the material of his pants, and he pressed the palm of his hand to it. Not doing anything, just resting there.

You licked your lips, head swimming. You moved off of your sofa and sat beside him. He jerked, surprised, looking at the way you shifted towards him.

He shook his head, noticing the expression on your face. “Stay away, love. You don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

You whined at him, and he grew harder in his pants. “Please, Price. I’m literally gonna die if you don’t give me your cock.”

He moaned. Tossing his head back, the sound that filtered from his lips was heavenly. You almost came in your pants just from it. After a moment, he collected himself, breathing hard as he stared at you, pupils expanding.

Legs still spread, he pat his knee, urging you towards him. Giddily, you crawled onto his lap and straddled him. His hands came to rest on your hips, brushing his fingers beneath your shirt. The rough pads of his fingers on the soft skin of your abdomen made you keen.

Instinctively, you ground yourself down onto the imprint of his cock, hard against his pants. He huffed out a groan, forcing you harder onto him. He moved you, pushing and pulling you against his lap, the two of you both panting like wild dogs.

“Need your cock, captain.”

“I know, pretty girl.”

He responded while he was unbuckling your belt and yanking your pants down. You stood for just a second to kick them away, before you were on him again, throwing your shirt off in the process.

Price was quick to rip your bra from your chest, breathing deeply as your tits fell free. He immediately drew a nipple into his mouth, skimming his teeth along the sensitive skin. You clutched at his shoulders, skin prickling where he was holding your hips. His fingers traced the lines of your underwear as he moved to your other nipple, giving it the same attention.

You tugged at his shirt. “Off.”

He grunted, ignoring you and moving his kisses up your chest, along your collarbone and onto your neck. He sucked at the skin, continuing to hold you strong against his lap.

You huffed, annoyed. Your skin was on fire and you desperately needed to feel him. Again, you pulled at his shirt, his sleeves, whining for him to just take it off. He bit down on your shoulder to shut you up.

“Be fucking patient.” He growled, still biting along your shoulder, leaving small indents. He laved over the impressions of his teeth with his tongue, hot and wet and it made you squirm.

But you couldn’t be patient. You were going to literally die if he didn’t fuck you— and you weren’t even exaggerating. His cock was rock hard against your core, layers of clothes separating you, frustrating you. So you took matters into your own hands: unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers and unzipping his pants.

Your fingers brushed the waistband of his boxers, when Price pulled back and grabbed your hand, pinning it to your side, much to your displeasure.

“Didn’t I say be patient?” Price uttered, pulling away from your neck and shoulder, staring at you with glossy eyes.

You nodded slowly at him. Your neck and shoulder was damp, sticky with his saliva. You could feel the bruises, the bite marks with every breath you took, fiery skin stretching with each erratic intake. Your heart was beating so fast.

“Wanted to taste you first, feel you. But I suppose greedy sluts can’t be patient, can they?”

You knew it was the pollen talking. You knew it. But you still moaned anyway, nodding and nodding because it was true— you couldn’t be patient and you really, really wanted his cock.

Price clucked his tongue, eyes roaming your body before they landed on your underwear. He used one hand to pull them to the side, running a finger up your slit. You wanted to scream at the feeling. His one finger against your core set it alight, arousal dripping onto his lap. He breathed heavily, watching the pearls of moisture drop onto his lap, your cunt slick and wet and needy.

“Wanna fucking taste you,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. He added two more fingers, stroking up and down your folds before shoving them, without warning, into your hole. You didn’t have the time to react, only opening your mouth in a silent moan, before he removed his fingers and placed them in his mouth. He moaned, and that sent your stomach a frenzy with butterflies. “So good…” He growled.

Then, he was throwing you onto your feet, and you yelped at the way he man-handled you across the room. A second passed and you were pressed against the small, circular dining table, nipples brushing against the cool surface. Price stood behind you, his body burning against yours.

“Just couldn’t be fucking patient, could you?” He uttered, ripping off your underwear. You didn’t see where he put them.

“Please—!” You whined.

“So desperate for my cock, eh?” He mused, and you heard the sound of his pants dropping to the floor. “Don’t care about anything else but being full with it. Isn’t that right, pretty girl?”

You nodded, biting your lip to suppress the noises filtering from your mouth. Then, you could feel him: hard cock pressing against the curve of your arse. You backed into it, applying more pressure. But he stopped you, one hand on your hip shoving you further over the table and his other hand smacking your arse cheek, no doubt leaving a bright red handprint.

“Fucking hell, so fucking needy for your captain, aren’t you, sergeant?” He breathed, cock tracing lightly along the curve of your arse. “You want your boss to fuck you? Naughty girl, desperate for her captain’s cock.”

It’s the pollen talking, your conscience said. But the pollen in your nervous system was infecting your brain, chanting Price’s name over and over and over again.

“Price, please,” you pleaded, feeling the head of his cock come to rest at your wet entrance. “I… I need you.”

“Captain,” Price reminded, hand squeezing your arse cheek. A warning. “You’re gonna call me captain when I fuck you, okay, pretty girl? Your captain’s gonna make you cum all over his cock.”

You nodded, whining as you felt his hard cock run up and down your cunt. He was breathing deeply behind you, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It was hot— you could feel the heat seeping into the wetness of your dripping cunt. You could also feel your excess arousal forming milky rivulets down your thighs, making you shiver.

Then, without much of a warning other than a small, animalistic growl from the depths of his throat, Price pushed his cock into you. In one thrust, too, leaving you pinned to the table, breathless. You tried to moan, but his cock had knocked all the air out of your lungs.

“Fucking Christ, so fucking tight,” Price cursed behind you, hands branding in your hips. “Shoulda let me work you out, but someone was too desperate for my cock. Isn’t that right, sergeant?”

You writhed against the cool metal of the tabletop. “Yes, captain, I—”

He didn’t let you finish. He stole your words, your breath, when he pulled out and thrusted back in. The head of his cock pushed at your cervix, your walls clamping around him, wetness splashing onto his pelvis. He did this again and again, bullying into you with such strength that the table creaked and the legs scratched against the hardwood floor.

You moaned loudly, suddenly finding your voice. You let the noises fall past your open mouth, the drag of his cock against your walls eliciting inhuman sounds from you. Your voice bounced off the walls of the safe house, paired with the creaking of the table and the distant birdcall from outside.

Mid-moan, you felt something cottony and wet being shoved into your mouth. Your eyes snapped open, finding that Price was using two fingers to shove your underwear between your teeth, effectively gagging you.

“Gotta keep quiet,” he grunted behind you. “We’re— shit— we’re in a safe house for a reason, sergeant.”

You moaned, muffled around your underwear as he rutted into you, hips slapping against your arse. You spared a glance over your shoulder. He was staring down at where his cock entered you, the bottom of his shirt between his teeth to avoid your splashes of arousal. He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling rapidly, low grunts echoing from the depths of his throat.

“So needy, letting your captain fuck this tight cunt,” he said, words slightly muffled. “Such a good fucking slut for me, sergeant. So good.”

You keened at both the degradation and the praise. You were hot all over, arms pressed against the cool metal of the table. Inside, you were hot too: your belly tightening and your legs beginning to tremble.

“Captain,” you breathed. “Gonna cum—”

“‘Course you are,” he chuckled darkly. “Been so desperate to cum, haven’t you? So desperate to cum on your captain’s cock… go on then. Cum on my cock and show me how needy you are, eh?”

Your underwear muffled most of the lewd sounds dripping from your mouth. His words stoked the fire within you and, after just a couple of deep breaths, you came the hardest you’d evener come before. You felt yourself gush around him: arousal flooding from your abused cunt and down your legs, along the insides of your knees. Your hole spasmed around his cock, obscene noises filling the safe house as he continued to fuck into you like a man starved.

“Captain.” You whimpered, and he reached around to pull your underwear from your mouth. For just a moment, he straightened your body, pressing your back taut to his front, cock still nestled deep inside you.

With surprising gentleness, he pressed his mouth to yours. He kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth, making you sigh. He had stilled his thrusts, cock pulsing inside your tight heat. When he kissed you, you squeezed him tighter, and he huffed into your mouth.

“You alright?” He whispered.

You nodded.

“Words, love, please.”

“I’m alright.” You finally whispered, letting him place a couple of warm kisses across your cheek and jaw. Gentleness— before he resumed his bruising pace, folding you back over the table and settling both his hands on the skin of your hips.

“Wanted this for so long,” he was rambling now, voice strained with pleasure. “Wanted this tight cunt around my cock since you joined the taskforce. Knew you’d be so wet and tight.”

His cock was reaching deep into you, nudging the burning fire that simmered in the pool of your belly. Embers were flaring. Another orgasm building.

Price was grunting behind you, deep and melodic as he rutted into you like an animal, chasing his release. Sometime ago, he had ripped his shirt off. When? You don’t know, but it now meant you had full view of his toned stomach and chest when you peered over your shoulder.

Your second orgasm was fast approaching, and you tried to warn him. Key word, tried. His thrusts were leaving you dizzy— words unable to form as that spot within you was abused by the blunt force of him.

But he knew. Of course he knew.

“You wanna cum again, pretty girl?” He breathed, deep voice and smooth accent adding fuel to the fire.

“Please…” You managed to draw out.

He huffed, pace beginning to quicken as his thrusts lost a precise rhythm. “Go on, then. Cum again for me. Come on.”

The fire erupted inside you. “Captain!” You all but shouted, orgasm racking through you so violently that you swore your legs were going to give out. But they didn’t, not with Price pinning you to the table, holding you firm as he fucked his fat cock into you.

He was almost there. Breathing rapidly, skin prickling, head spinning. All he could see and feel and smell was you. He was in heaven.

“My pretty girl,” he grunted. “My good girl.” He repeated a few times, a mantra, before he groaned thick from his chest and stuffed himself to the hilt inside of you.

You felt his cum fill you, hot. Flooding the depths of your cunt, you spasmed around him as he slowly, gently, rocked his cock into you a few more times, pushing his seed further into the warmth of your womb.

He rubbed circles on your hips, not pulling his cock out as he stood you up, wrapping you in his arms. Through a tired haze, you somehow got back to the couch, his cock still sheathed inside you. You sat on his lap, resting against his bare chest, listening to his softening breathing. A hand on his chest, you felt the pace of his heart. He had two strong arms wrapped around you.

“You okay, love?” He asked after a moment of calm, his breathing now even.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You breathed a reply, a whisper.

Price placed a kiss on the top of your head, holding you closer to him. “Feel better?” He rubbed his hands along your back.

You nodded, eyelids heavy as he held you, stroked you, warm and safe. “Yeah… don’t feel like I’m on fire anymore.”

He hummed, vibrating where you laid on him. “That’s good. As long as… that worked, then I’m happy.”

You smiled sleepily up at him, and he returned the smile, leaning down to catch your mouth in a sweet kiss.

“We might have to go again later, just to make sure, captain.” You mumbled against his lips.

He chuckled, pulling away. “If you insist, sergeant.”

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

thank you for all the recent support! i’m new to writing on tumblr, and also pretty new to writing smut lol, so thank you for the kindness <3 more works are to come, but feel free to ask for other cod characters too x

#captain john price x female reader #captain price #captain price smut #cod mwii #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #john price #captain john price #price x reader #fem reader #cod smut #captain price x reader #captainfern #captain’snirvana

3K notes · View notes

arachine · 1 year

Text

૮(ˊ ᵔ ˋ)ა ... i'd follow you anywhere .ᐟ

ᥫ᭡ pairing :: neteyam sully x avatar! reader

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ synopsis :: in which reader uses her new avatar body to finally show neteyam just how much she loves him… + based off of this thirst!

ᥫ᭡ general tags :: 18+ (explicit sexual content, explicit language), minimal angst (?), lots of fluff and banter lol

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: characters aged up to 20, oral (m receiving), cum swallowing, dacryphilia (v tame), corruption

ᥫ᭡ word count :: 2.5k

ᥫ᭡ note :: guys this is what happens when i ask for thirsts!!! i get carried away and never know when to stop ;(( anyway, here, have this while i work on my annual dick analysis for jake & quaritch.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Shh, you’ll see, kitty boy,” you giggled, tightening your grip on his wrist.

Neteyam shakes his head, tongue in cheek. He could never say no to you—not that he wanted to…he always wanted to play with you. He’d follow you into the depths of hell, or whatever the na’vi equivalent of hell was. Yeah, he’d follow you there, he thinks—definitely.

The boy relinquishes all of his motor skills to you, allowing you to drag his body further into the forest. He mirrors all of your agile movements, jumping when you jump, running when you run—and then you come to a halt, turning around quickly to face him. You’re so close—too close, the sudden proximity disrupting his equilibrium.

“Don’t go falling for me now,” you grab his forearm before he can fall, pulling him back up with a wink. He scoffs at this, mumbling something sly under his breath. You were always so quick-witted, with quick reflexes to match, too. To anyone else, this would be annoying, but to him, they were your most admirable traits. It’s what made him fall for you.

“Ha, ha, can you tell me what we are doing all the way out here now?” he raises his hands, gesturing to the clearing that you were now standing in. You smile wildly, pursing your lips together in avoidance. The boy reaches behind you to pull your tail, tickling your sides until you surrender.

“Okay, okay, just s-stop it already,” you belt out, “I wanna show you somethin’…gotta be nice to get it, though.” He retracts his hands, letting them fall slowly to his sides. Just what were you planning?

Grabbing his hand this time, you usher him to follow you with a tilt of your head. You lead him to a tree surrounded by shrubbery, a spot that, up until now, only you were privy to its whereabouts. The perfect place for privacy.

Letting go of his hand, you push him down to sit on the forest floor, with his back resting against the bark of the tree and you nestled between his legs. His pulse quickens. What was so important that you needed to drag him so deep into the forest? In such a secluded place, nonetheless.

“I’ve been wanting to try this with you for a while,” you start, voice so low, just barely above a whisper. His eyes squint in confusion, but he remains silent—listening, as to not scare you from continuing.

“You know, growing up in a shack with grown men…you hear a lot of things,” a silence, “things only men talk about.” Your eyes flitter to his, unmoving.

“like, the things they missed doing on Earth, the girls they miss fucking—and what they’d do to have a woman’s lips wrapped their cocks…” The last bit comes out more hushed, gently kissing the shell of his ears. His tail reacts to you before he can, swishing in jagged movements, exposing his excitement.

“Has anyone ever kissed you down there?” your eyes flit to his groin.

He shakes his head eagerly, “No, I have n-never heard of this…nobody has ever…”

“Can I?” you tilt your head, flashing him your best doe-eyes. It was fun teasing him, a feeling that you’d never grow tired of. From first glance, to first introduction, you’d been bound at the hip since you could talk. Everything he did, you did, and vice versa. If you were feeling sick one day and couldn’t play, then shit, he was too. If you wanted to jump off a cliff one day, he’s jumping with you!

His loyalty to you was unyielding, grounding. And as the years passed, and the two of you transitioned from bright-eyed little kids to gangly, awkward teens on the cusp of adulthood, you started to realize something. That you wanted to be all of his firsts.

Determinedly, you set out to do just that. On his thirteenth birthday, you kissed his cheek. A scintilla of your love, stained onto the expanse of his face that served as a mental reminder that this boy was yours—promised to you, and only you.

Then, three more years passed. The boy with the rounded cheeks and toothy smile, had begun to change. It started out slow, though, then the differences became more gradual.

The first to change was his face. What was once round and doughy, had now become slim and sharp. And then it was his physique. No longer was he the awkward child with gangly limbs, and a head too big for his body (as you liked to put it). No, he was much more…different. And each and every one of these changes, a testament to his inevitable journey into adulthood.

On his sixteenth birthday, you kissed him. Once. But in that one kiss, you poured every ounce of love that you’d collected over the years. Every thought, every wish, every yearn, went right into that kiss—another piece of your heart that you carved just for him. For him to have and hold, to keep safe.

And when it was over, you pulled away with a smile, and a dagger of a tongue dipped in poison, ready to deliver heartbreak.

You’re a man now, you uttered. I wanted to give my best friend his first kiss. And that was it, that was all it was ever going to be—because you were human, then. Still a weak, measly, little human who spent all her time living in a false reality, chasing something (someone) that could never really truly be promised to you. Not until you made the change.

So, you waited. And…waited, and waited, and waited until one day you could meet his eye without having to look up, or for him to drop down. You waited until the day when you’d be recognized as his equal.

Today was that day, on his twentieth birthday. And so you ask again.

“Can I kiss you down here?”

He nods. Once, twice, then stutters out an eager yes. Gently you smooth your palm up and over his knee, the skin of his thighs, and then stop beneath the fabric of his loin cloth. Your fingers trace the area teasingly, and you giggle when his hip juts up from the sensation. So sensitive.

Slowly, you remove the cloth from his body, and take him into your hand. He’s semi-hard and leaking pre—and warm. So, so warm. You bring it up to your cheek, rubbing it against the area before turning your head to leave a zephyr-light kiss on his shaft. You kiss it once, then twice, then kiss it again for every year you spent not kissing him.

“What are you doing?” he laughs, “Come on, it tick—hahhh.” A whine vacates from his throat upon you licking a long stripe from the base of his shaft, to the tip of his head. Naturally, his hands find solace atop of your head.

“So dramatic, I didn’t even do anything yet.” This time, you take him into your mouth, forcing him to watch you as more and more of his length disappears into the cavern of your mouth.

Technically, you’d never done this before (save for the few times you practiced on fruit) so it was your first time, just as much as it was his. But he didn’t have to know that. You wanted to appear like you knew what you were doing, or at the very least, like you’d done this before. You try to remember all the things you’ve heard over the years.

1) Girls who used teeth were bad, but girls who flattened their tongues and relaxed their throats were good.

2) Girls who didn’t use spit sucked, but girls who got really messy were good fucks.

3) Girls who didn’t play with balls were lazy, but girls who did knew how to have fun.

So, you use an amalgamation of all of the tips that you garnered. You flatten your tongue, ease your throat so that you can take him farther, until the head of his cock hits your uvula.

“Shhit, mmf,” he breathes, attempting to stifle a moan by digging a hand into the forest soil. Immediately, you grab his hand and place it back onto your head, pulling off of him with a wet pop.

“Keep ‘em here,” your hand fists his length, “want you to use me. Wanna make you feel good, ‘kay?” His dick twitches in your hold, because fuck, the sight before him is almost too much for him to handle.

You, before him on your knees, with your dainty hand wrapped around him, and your face wet with drool. And you want him to what? Use you? To make him feel…good? God, if he didn’t know any better, he’d think this was Eywa playing tricks on his mind. Giving him a taste of euphoria before yanking him back to reality.

He has half a mind to pinch himself, and half mind to poke you, because there’s just no way this is real. Bullshit. But then you’re sinking back down onto him, and swirling your tongue around his head, and using your hands to massage his balls, and—

“Fuck,” his hands reflexively push you down onto his length. His body shivers when the tip of your nose makes contact with his pelvis. You’re so warm, and wet, so inviting, he can’t seem to let go. He keeps you there until you physically can’t fathom it, and pull off of him in search of air.

“That felt…nice,” he says bashfully, “can you do that again?” You nod eagerly, accumulating a generous amount of spit in your mouth to use as a salve, lathering it up and down the length of him before he guides you back to his awaiting cock.

He watches intently as your lips stretch to accommodate him again. Now his hands, which are tangled in your tresses, are moving more confidently. They push and pull you, maneuvering your head gently and at a steady pace, then gradually, they increase their speed.

Neteyam does this a few times and then allows you to take the reins. When you’re ready, you take a deep inhale through your nose, and push yourself down until you feel the weight of him hit the back of your throat. The first time was a bit easier, mostly because your jaw wasn’t as fatigued as it was now, but you persevere anyway.

Inhale, exhale. A mantra that you have to repeat to yourself to distract you from the urge to gag. You try your best to keep your jaw relaxed and your throat open by digging your nails into the fat of his thighs.

When you look up at him, there’s an elated expression molded onto his face. His head is thrown back against the tree, hair strewn about with tendrils sticking to his forehead, and his eyes are shut closed.

He looks…so beautiful. That’s when you feel a tear ribbon down your face and onto his thigh. You’re unsure if it’s because of the air steadily leaving your brain, or if it’s because of how pretty he looks right now—all sweaty, slick with your drool.

You settle on the former. It had to be the air. Eventually, your lungs give out and you have to take a breather. The sudden loss of warmth forces his eyes open, and then they fall on your face. Your eyes. Doe-eyed and clouded. Cheeks stained with tears.

“Pretty.” Is all he says, bringing up a hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You work him the rest of the way with the iota of energy you have left, concentrating on the head of his cock while your hand fists him to climax.

His abs begin to tremble and flex when you switch between hollowing your cheeks and massaging his balls. A visual indication that he was close to coming.

“Waitwaitwait, it feels like,” he’s panicked, trying to push you away. You dodge his attempts to remove you and continue your assault, only this time, you gently apply pressure to his perineum. Unceremoniously, he pushes your head down to the hilt and you moan around him from the force.

The vibrations from your throat makes his head feel all fuzzy. He’s so close, on the precipice of euphoria. And your hands—that are still situated on his thighs—rub the expanse of them reassuringly, coaxing him to finish right on your tongue.

With a final lazy piston, he comes into your mouth, and the warm, salty seed that you’d been anticipating leaks down the column on your throat. Moans tumble from his lips, along with hushed expletives, and he’s shaking. The cords of muscle beneath your palm tense and flex before regressing to their natural, relaxed state.

You remove your mouth promptly and rise to your haunches, making sure that his eyes are locked onto yours as you stick out your tongue to show him his seed.

“No, do not swallow that, I didn’t mea—“ Disobeying his wishes, you do it anyway. Swallowing it all all down and making it a point that you did so by sticking your tongue out again. His tail flicks in response, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Why did you do that? It’s dirty,” he caresses your cheek, wiping away the leftover spent from your mouth.

“‘Cause I wanted to…” You counter. “And it’s not dirty, you tasted good.”

Neteyam rolls his eyes at this, like him tasting good is too hard for him to believe.

“Don’t believe me? Here, try it.” And then you give him the gift that you had gifted to him all those years ago. A kiss. It’s equal parts sweet and needy, different from the first time it happened, but that’s because it was supposed to be. You wanted him to know exactly what you meant. No more waiting. No more pining.

When you draw back, breathless and dizzy, he’s still stuck in a stupor. Lips jutted out and waiting for you to kiss him again. Again, again, again. He opens his eyes, and sees you staring back at him.

“See, I told yo—“ He takes a fist full of your hair and connects his lips to yours. This is him returning the gift. Letting you know that he got the message, loud and clear, and that it was reciprocated. Every ounce of love that flows through his heart is poured into your own; he hopes you can feel it.

“I told you not to fall for me,” you whisper, looking up at him with an avian flutter of your lashes. Neteyam’s hands find solace on the sides of your cheeks, and then he speaks.

“I think I fell for you a long time ago.” Warmth washes over you, his sweet words and strong hands overriding all of your cognitive functions. Specifically, the one in charge of keeping you calm and collected.

“Good, ‘cause I think you’re gonna fall for me a lot harder when you see what I have planned for you later.”

“What’s later?”

“Shh, what fun would it be if I told the birthday boy the surprise?” You grin cheekily, unaware of the way your tail swishes from side to side as you say it. Neteyam knows you’re up to no good, but he doesn’t care. He’d follow you anywhere, after all.

#neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x reader smut #neteyam smut #neteyam sully smut #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x reader smut #avatar x reader smut #avatar x reader #atwow smut #avatar the way of water smut

5K notes · View notes

sayruq · 6 months

Text

The IDF really is nothing more than a police force. I know we say that a lot to make fun of their performance in the battlefield but when you see videos like the ones below, it really hits home that these people don't know how to do anything but police brutality and kidnappings.

[Normally I would add videos so that people without a twitter account can see but I'm 99% sure that everyone we see in these videos is dead despite no visible corpses]

In the first video, a couple soldiers are camping out in the open. The camera doesn't need to zoom in for you to see them, they're hardly blending into the tall grass and shrubbery.

In the second video, a group of IDF soldiers in Gaza are standing by open windows while slowly barricading themselves in and I mean slowly, there's no urgency.

Naturally, both Hezbollah and Al-Qassam Brigades take them out easily.

These soldiers, the pride and joy of Israel, don't have the common sense God gave to dogs. I can't envision a future where they manage to beat Hamas or any of the other militant groups operating in Gaza.

They're doing badly in the West Bank too btw. They were just forced to retreat from Jenin entirely after hours of fierce fighting against Palestinian resistance groups.

#free palestine #palestine #free gaza #gaza #west bank #liberation

463 notes · View notes

catnipaddictt · 10 days

Text

I hate you

enemy TCW!anakin x gn!reader

synopsis: you and anakin hate each other with a passion

wc: 1.5k

cw: fluff, angst, kissing, making-out

Slamming the door behind you, you storm down the halls of the jedi temple, hell-bent on getting your way. You weren’t going on a mission with him. Reaching the doors that lead to the council chambers you open them with more strength than you intended. The sound causes the heads of the council to turn towards you.

“I’m not going” you state rather than ask. “Anyone else, but not him.” You can feel the gaze of the other Jedi on your face. You sense they knew you were coming, probably through the sheer amount of emotion radiating off you. Obi Wan speaks before any of the other members have the chance to.

“The council decided that you both could use this mission to sort out your uh-differences” Obi Wan speaks with a calm tone. If he picks up on your disapproval he doesn’t say so. You cross your arms over your Jedi robes unamused. “I won’t do it.”

“You have no choice, we have no choice, you too are the only ones available” He speaks your name softly. “I’m sorry we have to do this, but we need two people to complete this mission, and you both have the skills required.” You go to speak but are cut off quickly by the older Jedi. “It's final.”

You find yourself in a small ship somewhere in the outer rim brooding in the corner when he first speaks to you. “If you stopped sulking you would notice that we are about to land.” Anakin Skywalker speaks in a tone that is meant to incite a reaction from you. But you don’t give in to the novelty, instead you opt to ignore him completely.

You can feel him roll his eyes at your ignorance before moving to go pilot the ship to the surface of the desert planet you had been sent too. According to the Jedi Council, a smuggler had found something that was of interest to the Separatists. So here you were, on a remote planet with the one person you did not get along with.

Twenty minutes later Anakin had landed the ship close to the coordinates the Jedi had given to R2, and you were standing by the door to the ship. Pulling your cloak over your head, you step out onto the white sand covering the landscape. Wind whips at the ground, causing sand to fly like bullets through the warm air.

You cover your eyes with your arm as you notice Anakin make the descent down the steps. You can hear him grumbling to R2 about how much he hates sand. Something to do with where he came from, you supposed.

You walked the short distance to the meeting spot. Which was a small oasis, surrounded by a few palm trees and shrubbery. After a few moments of waiting, your head turns towards the sound of a vehicle, and sure enough you see some sort of floating buggy moving towards you and Anakin.

Once it reaches you, a creature that is unknown to you gets out and passes you a small silver box, which you take as Anakin hands it the payment.

You turn the box in your hand, observing the intricate patterns etched into it. What in Kriffs name were they wanting this for? You tuck the object into your pocket as Anakin bids farewell to the trader, the cloud of sand from the buggy’s engine blows towards the ground as it zooms off.

Your eyes briefly meet Anakins, but you both rip them away quickly, turning on your heel to march back to the ship. The other Jedi follows behind you at a distance, talking to his droid quietly. Throwing open the metal door you climb inside the ship, sitting back down in the corner. You don’t see why the council sent both of you on this mission. It clearly didn’t require any skills.

Anakin enters the ship, scowling at you. R2 follows him before rolling off to charge and clean the sand from his joints. Anakin sits down in the opposite corner from you, folding his arms. You don’t look at him, instead observing each individual nail on your hand.

“Are we leaving or are you just going to stare at me?” you speak after a few minutes of silence as well as Anakin's piercing gaze. “We are going to talk” he says with a hint of annoyance. You don’t even bother to look up. “The council obviously wants us to come to some sort of agreement over what is going on here.”

“What’s going on here? What’s going on here is that you are so self centered that you can’t see that everyone maybe doesn’t like you” You spit at him, to which he responds with a huff. “And maybe if you stopped and looked around for a second you would see that you don’t think before you act. And the rest of us have to clean up your mistakes” You continue with a raised voice.

He doesn’t reply to your words at first, but eventually he returns the peasantry with the same attitude. “Well, maybe if you acted less like a brat all the time, I would be able to stand you. You walk around like you can just get what you want all the time. And you do. All the time.” You try to get a word in but are cut off. “No, I don’t want to hear it, just because you can’t deal with not getting your way doesn’t mean you have to treat me like shit all the time.”

You stand up, causing the crate you were sitting on to slide backwards. “Oh and you don’t always get your way too, Mr. Chosen one. Haven’t you noticed that the council gives you what you want, even if you aren’t the right person for the job.” Your words spill out of your mouth at a pace you didn’t think was possible.

He stands up as well, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Like you didn’t go complain to the council about this very assignment. You thought you could waltz in there and get out of it. I didn’t want to do this but you didn’t see me throwing a tantrum and going to the council.” Anakin rebuts, his voice now yelling at you. His brows are furrowed as he shouts.

You try to think of what to say but nothing comes to you. Instead you stand there only an arms length away from him, anger radiating off of you. “I hate you” is all you can manage. It's immature but it's the only way that you can express how you feel about him.

You think Anakin is about to continue his verbal attack on you but instead you are caught off guard by him roughly pushing you against the metal wall of the ship. And before you can process his actions, his mouth is on yours.

You go completely still before reacting to his lips connecting to yours. Instead of doing the sensible thing of pushing him away and yelling at him more, your lips move with the kiss until it is a messy clash of teeth and tongues. Anakin’s arms cage you in as your mouths move in sync. You know you shouldn’t do this because of the Jedi code but his lips feel perfect against yours, and as much as you hate it, you are enjoying this.

Anakin pulls away to breathe, “This means nothing” he says breathlessly before reconnecting your lips. You kiss him back harshly before pulling away, “You make me sick” you say before kissing him again. The cycle of taking turns in between making out to insult each other goes on for what feels like forever. Slowly both of your tones go from speaking to whispering and mumbling into each other's lips. “I still hate you” you say against Anakin’s soft lips. He returns the favour “I still hate you too”. You both join your lips together again, his hands now roaming and coming to rest on your hips, pulling you against him. You can feel his tongue in your mouth and the air coming out of his nose on your face.

Your own hands grab onto his cloak, still covered in a fine layer of sand, needing to hold onto something, or in this case someone. But this particular someone was your sworn enemy. You would never have thought you would be in a situation like this. Directly going against the Jedi code, especially because of Anakin, was a far off idea, that you would have called crazy if you had suggested it to past you. But surprisingly you don’t hate it. His warm body pressing against yours was nothing like you have felt before, and you didn’t want it to end.

No matter which way you looked at it. You could feel yourself becoming addicted to Anakin Skywalker's touch at this moment. Fuck. You pull away, finally coming to your senses. “We shouldn’t have done that.” you state clear as day. His arms don’t leave their new home, instead they grip you tighter as his face comes towards you again. “And you hate that you liked it.” he says with a sly grin. Instead of arguing you can’t resist attaching yourself to him again.

You can feel him against you, and his saliva in your mouth, tainting your morals. And you hate to admit it, but you don’t want this to end. You want him all to yourself.

Taglist: @heartsforanakin @qvnthesia

I don't like this that much and I didn't know what to do for an ending but here you go <3 Also if people are interested in a taglist lmk!

#star wars #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #revenge of the sith #the clone wars #tcw #sw tcw #tcw anakin

172 notes · View notes

lokisgoodgirl · 7 months

Text

Sticks and Stones: The Lakes [Loki x Reader]

The Lakes Masterlist / Regular Masterlist Summary: (2) Resolved to make an effort, Loki tries his best. But old habits die hard, some harder than others. Warnings: Minors DNI. Language. Ex-Loki. Smut references/ Wankst. Humour/Mild angst. (w/c 4.8k) Recommended Folklore Track: Mirrorball

“Oh blast it all,” Thor wailed like a child, throwing a pile of sticks to the side. Another bundle of promising kindle had turned to mush in his hands.

“We need to find ones that aren’t wet, Odinson – I told you. Sometimes they don’t seem wet, but they are wet.” Steve instructed, standing abruptly from where he’d sat on his haunches. Dismay was thick in the air. “Everything is wet here, Rogers." Thor whinged, kicking leaves. "The allusive flame taunts me.”

Loki sucked in his cheeks. The urge to expel a witty innuendo was almost unbearable. But he was trying to be amenable. Turning over a new leaf, as it were.

When the four of them had trudged back to the cottage last night, Loki had turned in to his sparse lodgings immediately with only the most cursory of bedtime salutations. To his surprise, sleep had descended quickly. He had been expecting to toss and turn for hours on that thin single bed, cursing Rogers and his brother and you; each with the time and thoroughness that was due. But he had slept well. And when he woke, the smell of bacon wafting through the floorboards greeted him.

Your laughter chimed against the clatter of porcelain downstairs, his brothers following suit. He had snuggled deeper into the lumpy pillow, inhaling in the way he used to against your hair. And now, beneath a canopy of green and gold autumnal majesty, they had made camp for this morning’s torture; fire-building. Loki buried his hands in another damp pile of foliage, grasping a hunk of twigs he found there. To hel with it, he thought as he closed his eyes; feeling secretive warmth spreading from his fingertips. Magic wrapped around each stick of wood concealed beneath copper leaves, drying it instantly. He glanced over to you, thrumming some moss between your fingers. “I found some dry ones,” he said nonchalantly, hoping it sounded believable.

You peered at his outstretched hands. “Oh yeah…” you replied. Loki frowned as your attention swung back to the wisped moss being pulled apart in your fingertips. “Well, let’s get this show on the road.” Thor looked over at his brother, aghast. “Cheater,” he rumbled loudly. To his side, only Steve’s ass was visible, shaking side to side as he still searched on his hands and knees through the undergrowth for where dry wood might lurk. Loki turned, one palm facing up. A column of ferocious flame burst from his skin, funnelling up like a portal. The sound of its violence ripped the air, squawks of local wildlife jibbering in the trees above. Steve lost his balance, falling to the side into the shrubbery. He let out a strangled cry, while Thor scooted backwards and knocked him further into the bushes.

“If I wanted to cheat,” Loki snarled, “there would be much easier ways to do so, brother.”

As quickly as it appeared, the flame ceased.

Loki turned back to you, smoothing his anorak. “Sorry about that,” he quipped with a cheerful smile.

In the time it had taken to complete his theatrics, you had selected one of his pile which you deemed suitable. You turned it over in your hands, fingers curled around the trunk of the weighty stick. Loki swallowed thickly. The innocently sensual glint in your eyes as you looked at it was almost too much to bear. Or maybe it was his imagination.

You hadn’t raised a smile all day, after all. He knelt on his haunches, mirroring your intrigue while you ran a finger down the larger stick. “We need to whittle a groove down here” you said. Loki nodded, moving his eyes between the line your digit took and your face.

Your eyes met.

He saw your gaze drop to his lips, only for a millisecond. “Could you?” you whispered, avoiding eye contact again.

In a flash of green, Loki produced a short dagger. He held it to you, handle first.

“I mean really we should use the one in your pack,” you smirked, eyeing Steve brushing sodden leaves from his ass as Thor fumbled fruitlessly in the undergrowth in a last ditch attempt. Loki felt his heart pound faster. He saw his chance. “But mine is better, Agent” he murmured darkly. “You know that.” “Guys – come over, please!” you shouted over his shoulder. Loki flinched. Truly, she now immune from my overtures, he mused bitterly; remembering the times a line like that would have had you groaning in his ear like a harlot.

He smoothed a rakish curl back from his forehead, collecting himself while his brother and the captain gathered round. Thor was muttering Asgardian curses under his breath, his hair wild. Twigs stuck out at obscure angles, a small slug clinging to the scruff of his jawline. Loki peeled it off, flicking it away.

“I think not that I was made for nature, brother,” Thor lamented under his breath. Loki chuckled, cut short as his dagger, poised in your hand, began to cut away at the centre of the large stick. There was a sharp intake of breath beside him. “That’s not standard issue,” Steve chided quietly, lips hardening. Loki folded his arms, elbowing Rogers in the process. “Watch what I’m doing,” you said sternly, eyeing the men with suspicion. They stood in rapt attention, watching every rut of the blade, every splinter and chunk which sprung forth. But not Loki.

Loki watched your face. Each furrow of your brow, flick of concentration, ghost of a smile as you looked with satisfaction at the result. “Perfect,” you murmured to yourself, running a cautious fingertip through the rough groove. “Now what?” Thor grunted. “Tis still a damnable stick.” You laughed the sweetest, most condescending laugh that Loki had ever heard.

It made his heart twist in his chest. “Now...you each take one of these” you handed each of them a smaller stick from Loki's haul. Loki’s was the longest.

A smirk curled the corners of his mouth against his better judgement. You rolled your eyes, snatching it back and switching it with Steve. “Sharpen these, so they are at a 45 degree angled point. Remember your angles from yesterday, Thor?” Thor frowned. You made the angle with your forearm. “Ah, yes” he smiled. “The little mountain.” For the next few minutes, Loki felt your appraising stare fall on him in intervals. He crafted his edge to perfection, sliding the dagger’s blade so close to the wood’s bark it almost shone. The rough hacking of the other men’s pocketknives peppered the air. Aside from that, and birdsong, there was silence.

When all of them had finished, you called them back around a small, cleared patch of forest floor. The branch with the groove you had made lay on the ground. The three men stared at it, sharpened sticks in hand. Suddenly it all felt very...human. They glanced at each other vacantly. “Loki?” you chirped, gesturing to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.

“On my knees?” he heard himself purr, the feigned incredulity palpable. You nodded sternly, just once.

“Very well,” he murmured, sinking down.

His knees hit the leaves with a crisp, gentle thump.

Immediately, wetness began to seep into the fabric. Like the gusset of her underwear, he mulled. He looked up at you the way he used to while you would have him kiss up your thighs, yanking his hair as he atoned for some imagined grave misdeed with sexual favour. The essence of his vulnerability. A rarity, only for you. He was such a slut for you, back then. Anything you desired. Anything he desired- “Loki?!” you snapped. He had been staring at your chest, eyes glazed. Carefully, he tilted his chin upwards. “Apologies,” he husked. The swallow which bobbed in your throat made his loins ache. Your voice was high. Higher than she intends, surely; he thought.

“Kind of...position it so the big stick with the groove is between your knees-” you’d said.

Loki shuffled, straddling the branch. It brushed the bulge of his cock pulsing lightly against his trousers. “Between my thighs, you say?” he asked innocently. “No, your knees. Well – thighs, sort of yes. Just keep it steady.” You were becoming flustered, Loki noticed. Loki liked that.

You bent down slightly, touching the hard round of his bicep before recoiling like it was a hot stove. “You um...hold the stick like this, no...like-”

Kneeling beside him, you adjusted the angle of his hands to grip the smaller, pointed stick. “That’s it...and then you rub it back and-” you swallowed, “-back and forth. On the one between your thighs. Knees.” Loki bit his lip, beginning to do just that. The sound was awful as his pace quickened after the first few strokes. Scraping, raw squeals that jarred the air.

“Like this?” he panted. A mist of sweat was forming at his hairline. He could feel it tingle.

“Like that,” you replied shakily. Your breaths were short. They were in time with the thrust of his arms as you hovered by his shoulder, guiding his wrist as it pumped back and forth. Thor and Steve glanced silently at each other, brows raised.

Loki saw Thor’s jaw drop from the corner of his eye, a meaty finger protruding from one straightened arm to the smoke beginning to waft from the groove. “Look, Rogers…” he gasped with the wonder of a child. The smoke became thicker, billowing in heavy flow. You fumbled to the side, grabbing some tufts of dried moss.

“Now tip it in, tip the ash in-” you said frantically, barely contained excitement in your voice. Loki complied, watching as the smouldering embers blossomed within the web of moss.

“Be careful,” he whispered, setting the stick in his hands down. He brought them up protectively around the moss. You held it forward, “blow, Loki” you murmured, keeping your eyes fixed on the small ball which had begun to smoke.

“Blow?” he said, forehead creasing while you nodded. Your eyes narrowed at the tuft clenched between your fingers. “Until you get-” “-a spark,” Loki finished quietly.

He blew on the moss, flinching as the vegetation burst with flame. Thor and Steve gasped, crowding round as you dropped the raging ball of fire to the groove of the stick below. You grabbed Loki’s spear, prodding the moss. Loki opened his mouth and closed it again.

He felt that he should be bored. Or annoyed. Longing for home comforts and solitude or some such. But, admittedly, he would not have thought of this whole scenario. Against his wishes, he had learned something.

What you had done? How you had transformed nothing into...something. Like magic. When he set fire to things, he cared not how they burned. Just that they burned. And, Loki thought, they always do.

After what felt like an eternity, Loki closed the door to the cottage and turned the key.

He was the last one in, favouring a meandering pace behind the three others huddled together in a jovial formation. Water saturated him, rolling in thick droplets from his forehead down the carve of his jawline. He had never known rain like it. It had fallen like milk, heavy and thick and relentless in every direction.

Hair was plastered to his skull, to his neck. It stuck in clumpy tendrils and made a weird noise against the garish anorak when he moved. He flicked his hands forward with frustration. The clench of his stomach against the soaking fleece made him shudder.

After the first attempt, he had reluctantly admitted there was no point in drying himself every ten seconds. Even magic, he had surmised, was no match for the English countryside.

Muffled roars sounded from the living room. Loki rounded the corner, cursing every squelching step. Predictably, his brother’s head was lodged in the soaking neck of his roll neck sweater. His hiking trousers lay in a bedraggled heap on the floor, water pooling around them through the floorboards. Muddy bootprints were smeared in circles over the rug. Steve held the hem of the sweater, rolled over Thor’s head and arms, yanking it. “I’m going-to take-your gosh-darned-head-off,” he grunted; before there was a wet pop. Thor stumbled backwards, landing in a chair in the corner. He began to laugh.

Loki rolled his eyes. “I wish to bathe,” he said plainly before turning to the doorway. Steve’s eyes widened. “The lady got first dibs, Laufeyson. You’ll have to wait. Shouldn’t have dallied on the ridge.” Loki froze, a grimace descending.

He closed his eyes, clicking his neck with a tilt to the side. Thor laughed, shaking his head. He pointed to Loki, then to Steve. “What need have we three of hot baths?”

“Speak not to me of my affinity of baths. Tis you who had your very own bathhouse on Asgard” Loki snarled. He rolled his molars, the deep chill setting into his bones only half born from the wet clothes sticking to every crevice. He looked longingly at the bathroom door, thinking of what lay out of reach. The sweet caress of hot water on his aching muscles, covering his weather-worn limbs with the kiss of a million bubbles that only sought to bring him pleasure. A vision of your naked body sinking in foam fluttered in front of his waking eyes, your lips parted to the ceiling as you let your thighs fall open-

The boiler made an alarming rattle in the kitchen.

“I’ll check it,” he muttered, casting a final glance to the bathroom door as he passed. He heard a splash. And then a small groan of satisfaction.

In the kitchen, Loki gripped the counter-lip and hung his head. He stared at the greyed cream of the surface while seidr rolled up his body, every inch of sodden fabric plastered to him airing free. A waft hit his hair, blowing it over his shoulders. Shaking it back, his eyes meeting the row of mis-matched mugs from yesterday. “When in Nilfheim,” he mumbled to himself like a mantra.

He returned to the living room, three steaming mugs in hand. The others had managed to light a stove in the corner and were now wearing pyjamas. Tops and bottoms, Loki noticed. A rarity indeed. He looked again at the fire. The flames were small, but they were there. He decided to be pleasant. “Did you use the groove technique?” Loki smiled, setting a mug down on the armrest of Thor’s chair. The men laughed while Loki straightened, staring pensively into the licking flames. With mild interest, the god realised that this was the first time he had been in this room. No mean feat, considering that the cottage only had three downstairs. The kitchen, the bathroom, and this one. He glanced around at the sparse décor, as antiquated and dulled and beige as the other spaces. “I remember those,” Steve nodded, aiming towards a radio on a corner-shelf. Loki chuckled, before sipping his tea. He smacked his lips. “Honestly, Rogers. What possessed you to house us in this place? Surely there are nicer.” Steve shrugged. “I thought it would be good for us,” he said, brushing his pyjama bottoms. “I mean, look at this chair!?” Loki exclaimed, gesturing to where his brother sprawled. It was some kind of cream leather, cracked at the worn areas where a thousand mortal arses had sat. Stains adorned the peel of its chafed skin. “A son of Odin, in a chair such as that. It’s insulting.” The words were bitter, but a playful smile tugged at his lips. Steve saw it. “Actually it is rather comfortable, brother” Thor piped up. He re-adjusted himself, leaning backwards, “rather comfortable indee-” In a flash, his tea sloshed in the air; hands flying to grip the armrest as the whole chair slid back to a lying position. Loki jumped to his feet, seidr fizzling in the palms of his hands. “Calm down,” Steve said, patting Loki’s lower back. “It’s a recliner, it’s supposed to do that. Had those in my day too.”

There was silence but for the crackling of the fire which had grown to a healthy blaze. It was comfortable. Loki quietly transformed his clothes to the flannel pyjama bottoms that had lain neatly folded beneath his pillow upstairs. “What about the top? You’ll freeze.” Steve murmured, pulling his mug closer to his chin. Loki smiled, shaking his head. Fresh curls bounced around his collarbone. “I think not that a thin layer of cotton will help in that regard, Rogers.” “Modesty, then” Steve scoffed, nudging his head in the direction of the bathroom. Both brothers rolled their eyes.

“Our dear Agent has seen me in much more raucous states of undress, I assure you” he sniffed, staring pointedly at the flames. He could almost feel the wrinkle of Steve’s nose. There was another silence which hung between them, heavier this time. “What happened, Loki?” Steve whispered, leaning forward like a teen girl at a sleepover. He pulled the blanket in his lap to his chest. “Between you and-” he gestured with his head again towards the door. “You guys were pretty perfect together seemed like.” Loki bristled, feeling his brothers eyes on him too. He knew it would come to this. “We had an irreconcilable differing of opinion.” “On what?” “On me.”

Loki straightened, rolling his shoulders back and resting an ankle on his knee for good measure. Casual. The scratch of cheap upholstery made his back tingle. “Well that could mean all manner of things, brother. You are insufferable.”

Loki swallowed, blinking several times. Steve reached out, patting his hand gently, but Loki flapped it away. “Apparently I am...what were her words exactly? Oh, yes. Haughty. Condescending. Unwaveringly arrogant.” He looked pointedly between the men. “I mean, can you believe that?!” Thor and Steve’s eyes met, each waiting for the other to speak first.

“Well, yes” they said in sync.

Loki bristled again, raking a hand through his hair. “Not to the point where it subsumes all my admirable qualities, surely?” he said, beginning to pick at the green of his bottoms. “I mean really. Is it truly arrogance if what I say is true? I cannot help being a god.”

Silence was deafening.

Loki looked to the side, seeing Steve’s face contorted in a theatrical twist. One eyebrow was raised, lips stretched over his teeth in a grimacing caricature. “You do go on about it a lot.” he said out of the corner of his mouth.

“Indeed, brother.” Thor concurred. He nestled back in the recliner with a satisfied sigh. “I shouldn’t have to walk with these groceries...I am a god. I have no need of a parking permit, I am a god...I can only imagine how it is to be your significant other, especially for so long-” “Hey, Thor – did Loki tell you about ‘that time’ on Asgard?” “Why yes Rogers he did. All of them. And anyone else who’d listen. Especially the part which highlights exactly how impressive it is that he is...” “-a god,” they both finished. Loki stared between them, open mouthed. His furious gaze landed on his brother. The betrayal in his voice was palpable. “How dare you,” he growled. “You’re one to talk, spouting off about your powers and flaunting your lineage at every chance you can grasp. The audacit-” Thor raised a waggling finger in the air, pushing his feet against the chair and sitting upright. “Ah-ah-ah, brother. But I am both self-effacing and charming, isn’t that right Rogers?” he beamed. “He is quite charming.” Steve agreed, reluctantly. “You on the other hand...it comes across as more..” The three of them looked between each other. Loki’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said quietly.

Of all the times your gentle hands had cupped his, your caring words of encouragement that he think more of what he was saying; he had not listened. Not really. The armour of arrogance was a comfort to him. It was secure, unchanging. Unlike everything else. And in truth, he’d thought you’d liked it. Despite your occasional protestations.

Until the end, that was.

A creak from the hallway signalled your imminent emergence from the bathroom.

In all the commotion, none of them had heard the boiler cease its ragged howl. A few seconds later, your head poked around the door. Wetted hair fell around your shoulders, sticking to the curve of your neck. Loki looked up through his lashes, stomach fluttering as your palm slid innocently down the wooden frame. Moisture still clung to your skin.

Loki hoped you weren’t cold. “I’m going to bed, I’ll see you in the morning” you said, looking to Thor and Steve before your eyes met his. He looked away quickly. “Goodnight,” the three of them chimed, some more enthusiastically than others. You stepped out in full view for a moment, adjusting the towel around your body. “Did you use the groove technique?” you smiled, nodding to the fire. “My brother made the same joke already,” Thor said, reclining on the deceptively comfortable chair again with a flourish. “But alas, no.” Loki’s heart skipped as you focused on him. Something swam in your eyes as you twisted the towel by your armpit. Something that wasn’t irritation, or coldness. He saw your covert gaze drop to his neck, lower to his chest, then to the flat of his stomach. He shifted, curling his long legs up on the sofa.

“Join us,” he said, gesturing to an empty armchair in the corner. You shook your head, offering a weak smile. ��I’m exhausted, clearly you guys have more stamina than I do.” Loki felt the mighty need to agree rise in his throat. To articulate the validity of your statement, and its infinite reasoning and commend your observations. For the first time, he was aware of its overwhelming crawl upwards like dragon-fire, sanctimonious empty words writhing like live insects in his mouth – desperate to be spat. He forced them down, under the watchful eye of Steve. The words sat in his stomach like a stone.

“Goodnight, Agent.” Loki murmured with a respectful nod. You returned it silently, before closing the door.

A sliver of open curtain cast moonlight on the wall.

Loki stared at it.

Then he stared at it some more. How long had he lain here? He turned, grasping at the vintage midgardian alarm clock on the side. He squinted. Nine-forty. Loki groaned, rolling back against the lumpy mattress. Tonight, unlike the last, sleep evaded him. Although he had only been in the maze of his thoughts for fifteen minutes, it felt like eternity. Why could he not read you? It was always so easy before, he pondered. His eyes tracked along a crack in the ceiling. Before she raised the drawbridge.

He sighed.

If what Rogers and his brother said was in truth, then it meant the unthinkable. That she was right to do what she did. Was he truly so conceited that he had let love which evaded him so long slip through his grasp for the sake of his pride? For what? To feel important for a fleeting moment? A thousand fleeting moments would be more accurate. A chill ran down his spine. Does she think that, in truth, I never cared for her at all? He closed his eyes, attempting to diminish the intrusive thought. In an act of mercy, his mind conjured the memory of you wrapped in only the towel downstairs. Hair wet, droplets kissing down your neck as you played with the side of the cotton.

‘Come here, Agent’ he would growl, spreading his thighs wider on the bed’s edge. He knew how much you loved the thickness of his thighs. At least, you used to. The version of you still in love with him would sashay across the room, bare feet leaving wet imprints on the floorboards. A coy smile playing on your pouted lips.

Would you wait until you had straddled him to release the towel, or in the moment before you did so? Loki pondered this for a moment, before deciding to indulge in both.

He could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably against the crotch of his pyjama pants, the spill of your perfect breasts into his imaginary hands making it throb. ‘Darling,’ he would sigh as he buried his face in your cleavage. His thumbs would graze your delicate nipples, guiding them to his open lips as you ground against his lap. A hand would nudge his tip inside your perfect heat before you edged down...down to meet the root. And then, you would kiss. You always wanted to kiss the first time you were fully joined. Entwined. Twin-gasps would fill the air, giving way to moans of quiet pleasure as Rogers and his brother slept next door.

Or tried to, at least. Loki spat in his hand, before slipping it beneath the waistband of his pyjamas. Cold fingers wrapped around the mass of untended lust that waited. He pumped once, pulling the foreskin back gently and letting his fist nestle against the neat of his pubic hair.

A ragged exhale escaped him.

How long has it been, he wondered briefly, before tightening his grip.

He extended his thumb, pressing harshly against velvet flesh as he swept upwards. The god’s eyes rolled back in the darkness, back arching up into his pleasure. Low pants began to pepper the air around him, each swipe of his hand more frantic than the last.

Too loud.

He bit his lip, eyes screwed shut while visions of you flashed through his mind. He settled on a memory of you in his bedroom in the tower. His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on the edge of the bed you shared, your fingers curling around his abs as they clenched beneath the touch. Your lips fastening around his trembling cock as you made him yours in each stroke of your tongue. Each slurping kiss that lingered as you sucked, his head falling back as he lost himself in you. Always, he thought between staggered breaths. Completely hers.

Loki’s fingers dug into the mattress, the rough methodical slap of his fist against flesh a din to his ears. But gods, it felt so good. He needed this. Needed to allow himself a stolen moment of pleasure where you loved him still.

Climax began to bubble in his deepest centre, swirling behind his eyelids. Loki’s thumb circled the tip with every fuck of his palm, squeezing tighter while droplets of precum made the pyjama pants damp. His teeth were gritted to the ceiling, bared in a grimace. His chin pointed upwards, the pillow folding in on his cheekbones with the force of the brace. His breaths were short. ‘Mmmm’ The god’s eyes shot open.

He paused, wincing as his fist froze tightly halfway down his cock. His ears pricked, concentrating. ‘Mmmm-uh’

Loki’s head fell to the side, facing the wall. The wall on the other side of which, you lay.

He closed his eyes, summoning every magnification of his senses that he could. Your voice. No more than a whisper, seeping through the stone.

‘Loki, yes…’

He’d know those sweet sighs of pleasure anywhere.

A breath he’d been holding rattled free, timed with a tentative tug of his cock.

He could hear everything now. The rustle of bedsheets tangled around your knees, the beat of your heart quickening as you reached your peak with him in your head. The press of your fingers on that spot just about your plump, beautiful clit. Were you imagining the flat of his tongue caressing against your desire? Loki thought you were. Orgasm began to rise alongside some unplaced feeling, his legs tensing; toes curling into the mattress.

She wants me.

In a split-second decision, he whipped the bedsheets from his body and jumped cat-like to the floor. Within two strides, he had opened the door with a creak and slipped into the cramped hallway. Your door loomed before him, adjacent to his own.

What are you doing, he thought; suddenly horrified as the chill set in. He looked down, cock hard and leaking against his pyjama pants.

He began to step back, emitting the loudest groan of a floorboard he had ever heard in his life. Loki grimaced, hushing the accursed building with clawed fingers. But it was too late. He heard the succession of your bare feet meeting the floor, and in a matter of seconds; your door opened. Just a crack. “Loki?” you warily whispered into the darkness. He cleared his throat softly, casting a glance over his shoulder before daring to meet your questioning eyes. That dragon-fire bubbled in his stomach like acid, quippy lines and heavy-handed flirtations that begged to be freed.

How had he never noticed before how much effort it took, not to let them out? I thought you might need a hand, You called for me, so I’ve come to... make you c- I know you still desire me, which is to be expected, Admit it, no one can pleasure you like me, For old times sake- Because, Loki realised, he had never tried. You opened the crack of the door wider, looking to either side of the landing suspiciously. His eyes ran from your bare feet to the hem of a nightdress falling around your thighs. He recognised that nightdress. Your favourite. It had dead leaves on it, which he never understood. But maybe now, in this place, he finally did.

You only wore it when the nights grew colder. And only when he was not there to hold you for warmth.

Which these days, he thought with a pang, is always.

All too late, the god realised he had become distracted from his newfound restraint. It had wound like ivy around his thoughts, vines twisting and flourishing with alarming speed. But there was nothing to be done about it now. “I thought you might want some... company,” he growled suggestively.

His cock pressed ferociously against his hip, covered from view by one thick forearm.

Your eyebrows rose beneath a deadpan stare. “You can’t be serious.” Like an out of body experience, Loki raised the forearm covering his crotch to rest high on the door-frame. The unmistakable scent of your arousal seeped into his nostrils, an interrupted climax lingering in the air.

Moonlight from the cracks in your curtains licked across his chest, his obliques – casting deep shadows in his cheekbones, Loki would wager.

Hair fell around his jaw, tingling the flushed skin. He could feel his manhood pressing eagerly against the cotton, as desperate for your touch as it always had been. The thrill that in mere seconds, he would feel you against him again where you belonged. The heat of your skin flush to his own, the muffled mewls from your lips as you kissed, the insatiable wandering of your hands as you devoured him like an addict’s first fix. You would be so happy. This time, Loki would make sure of that.

He looked down deep into your eyes, smouldering with all his might. “Deadly, darling.” he purred.

Your disbelieving stare fell to his crotch. It widened. “Oh my god, Loki.” you hissed. “Yes...?” he crooned presumptively in response. The rakish smile spreading barely had time to reach his eyes before the door slammed in his face, almost taking Loki’s fingers with it to the other side.

>>Chapter Three: A Long Way Down Tags (contd in comments)

@lokischambermaid @meowmeow-motherfucker @gigglingtiggerv2 @imalovernotahater @avengersalways @littledark11 @lokikissesmyforehead @simplyholl @fictive-sl0th @thedistractedagglomeration @loopsisloops @holdmytesseract @fandxmslxt69 @morriggannlostinfandoms @marygoddessofmischief @sebstanwhore @xorpsbane @peacefulpianist @yelkmelk @wheredafandomat @mistress-ofmagic @acidcasualties @ozymdias @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokidokieokie @kikster606 @peachyjinx @tbhiddlestan83 @trickster-maiden @skymoonandstardust @justjoanne242 @thenotoriouserg @ladyofthestayingpower @wolfmoonmusic @brittbax @smolvenger @liminalpebble @joyful-enchantress @kaleenjackson @fictional-hooman @kellatron55 @mrs-illyrian-baby @icytrickster17 @multifandom-worlds @muddyorbs @buttercupcookies-blog @arch-venus25 @nine-leafclover @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki angst #loki series #loki marvel #loki imagine #loki odinson #loki laufesyon x reader #loki gif #loki

666 notes · View notes

cuethediscoandthedrinks · 1 year

Text

some random nsfw + sfw jake sully hcs~

bc we all need derpy jake. and sexy jake. here u go 🤭

sfw~

• lovessssss massages. any kind, but always receiving them. if you ask, he'll give them to you, but he's more for lightly tracing your skin, or feeling you up as opposed to concerted massages

• but for jake? lie that 8ft catboy down, get massaging on his shoulderblades or thighs, and he's now pretty much putty in your hands. he'll agree to almost anything, and probably fall asleep before you're even done

• loves playing tag. he's a grown-ass na'vi, but also a delinquent who's still not over the concept of having working legs; so ask that boy to chase you and he'll get right on it

• he has a lot of surplus energy, so weaving through the thick undergrowth, batting away stray leaves and prancing between aged roots is his jam. he especially loves the little excited giggles you let out as you prance away, or the sound of your quickened heartbeat when he's sneaking up on you as you hide in some shrubbery, or behind a big tree trunk and let's not lie, this 100% leads to a good ole' playful fuck

• still spanks plants. he loves to see them glow or change shapes because in spite of the abs and daddie energy, jake's still a literal manchild

• is an avid big-talker. during conversations, or when you're in the midst of fixing a broken object or making a plan, jake'll absentmindedly interrupt with lowkey the dumbest advice or idea lmao.

• less so when he's in charge of the plan, bc then he's really in the headspace. but if he's sort of on the listening-side, he struggles a lot with not just blurting out random stuff that pops into his head

• it's because of his adhd vibe really; he can barely pay attention unless you're looking him dead in the eyes, so what he assumes is a great method is in actuality a half-baked response to about one third of the actual conversation you just had

• makes a little 'heheh' noise when he works out a problem. oddly, things like saving communities and flying an ikran don't stimulate this response; instead finally getting the knot right on his loincloth, fixing the end of his broken bow or squeezing through a super tight space between two thick roots will get him all giddy

• either eats fucking loads, or nibbles. some days he'll barely eat anything, but maybe sneak-eat some of your prepared meal while you're distracted

• other days jake'll go unusually quiet, disappear, and then come back with a huge bowl of food just to plop down and eat the entire thing in one sitting, barely batting an eye and then undoubtedly have a tummy ache bc guess what's not the vibe? eating 11 whole fruits in one sitting with no breaks

• can't for the life of him remember sacred omaticayan sayings when he needs to. he almost always needs you to remind him about 10-20 seconds max before he has to say them, or he forgets again; him blanking on the respectful greeting of a different clan leader has def happened at least twice lmao

• does a happy jig when he finds the right route back to your home. when you've been out all day hunting, foraging or just exploring, he'll ofc forget where you actually came from. and if you're not an instinctual navigator, you two will be lost for some time, ngl. but once he figures out where to go, he'll kick a foot or do a micro-jump at the victory

• once flew his ikran so fast that his eyepiece slipped over his eyes and nearly killed him and his dragon. he like bejewelled it with new things one time, and felt the need to brag about it but didn't account for the excess weight. after the ordeal he elected to never tell anyone this, but has since not worn the eyepiece again lmao

nsfw~

• is a sucker for cleavage. he dgaf about the size, but irrespective of the place, the energy or the amount of seconds between having just fucked, he's still getting like just-seen-tits-for-the-first-time kind of flustered; he actually won't make any remarks or anything, but he'll do the classic double-take and maybe smirk a bit bc innately he's still a doe-eyed perv

• def has a foot fetish; and now that he's a huge blue boy, it's only increased. bigger feet, better colors, and as a bonus, they glow now. you can expect him to lift a leg up mid-missionary thrust and begin leaving hot open-mouthed kisses to the arch of your foot; sliding his warm, wet tongue along each of the digits too, some desperate, chesty moans escaping his partially-open mouth

• jake's a bit slutty. it's not unusual to associate jake sully with the himbo cliche, of course. but even more than that is his inclination to being just a little bit more provocative than necessary in situations;

• letting out a wanton groan from merely opening a tightly-sealed object, sitting with his legs spread, usually a hand resting on his dick, loves to stick his tongue out and/or lick his lips when he's thinking, etc. the majority of it isn't even on purpose, he just happens to have these ticks and make these noises although some of it def is ofc; no one doesn't mean to moan if they do it while they yawn

• has sought out sex pollen to use for the both of you before. he was initially a bit hesitant, but once he realised that it wasn't some pandoran viagra, but rather magic mushrooms that also up the horny to 120%, he was more than down

• has a size kink; specifically with his dick, but anything turns him on if it's got a size difference - his broad blue chest, his large hands that rake up and down your smaller body, or maybe his toned thighs that flex underneath your aching pussy as you grind down onto him. but his dick is his favorite

• when you squeal and writhe underneath him because it's just too big, it only inflates his ego; unlike someone more sadistic or dominant, jake'll take his time in stretching you out and coaxing all of that slick wetness from your pussy, all the while smirking in amusement and delight at your squirming

• he'll leave little cock taps on your entrance, or smear his throbbing blue length along your lips, and rub his bulbous reddened tip onto your swollen clit in tight circles; all in aims to eventually bottom out inside your wet warmth and clenching walls

• moves around a lot when you have sex. not like, the usual thrusting kind of moving, but straight-up fidgeting. things like moving his hands, needing to readjust something, his hair getting in the way, or a cramp/something spiky underneath his back bothering him are all pretty common

• secretly wants you to play with his balls more often during oral. he's a lil shy bean sometimes, and will most often emphasise his preferences in bed, but outside is a different story really; he just rlly wants you to but doesn't want to pressure you

• one time on an especially fruity date in the forest, after having eaten picnic-style under a large willow-like tree, you just began to touch yourself. that wasn't even the best part; the best part for him was when you rubbed your pussy into the grass

• for some reason that really stuck with jake; just the innate sexuality and eroticism of it. seeing your hips gyrate into the soft blades, grass becoming glossy and almost sticking together from your arousal. it seemed so natural for you, that it begged the question - had you done this before?? and if so, how many times? and why had he not been privy to this until just now?

• that made him the hardest he'd been in a long time. ever since that sunny afternoon, jake kept it as a class A spankbank memory. so now when he's roughly tugging and fisting his thick, swollen blue cock right towards release, the thought of you writhing in front of him on that patch of lush, green grass pushes him to orgasm every time

hope u enjoyed lovelies!

2K notes · View notes

teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕟 𝕄𝕖 | ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕀𝕀: ℍ𝕚𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕆𝕦𝕣 𝕊𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕪𝕝𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥

Pairing: Neteyam x (f)Omaticaya!Reader

synopsis: you decide to make Neteyam pay for all the hurt he's caused you, but what will happen when your own plan comes back to bite you in the ass?

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, aged-up! Neteyam/Reader, enemies-to-lovers, strong language, mentions of violence, blood, neteyam and reader being horrible to each other lol

wc: 5k words

a/n: i'm so flabbergasted by the incredible response to my first enemies-to-lovers fic, you don't even know! thank you so much, it means so much to see you besties enjoying it and being excited about it. I will reiterate once more than this is a trope suuper outside of my comfort zone, so i hope you enjoy me wracking my brain to figure out the plot as i go along hahahah. enjoy, and as always, thank you for every like, reblog, reply, it means the world x (thank you very much also to @cinetrix for her amazing Neteyam art ily bestie x)

na'vi compendium: syä - bitter, yawne - beloved, tanhì - bioluminescent freckle, 'itan - son, 'ite - daughter, Tsakarem - Tsa'hik in training, tsamsiyu - warrior, muntxate - mate, 'eylan - friend

: ̗̀➛ previous chapter (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series playlist (x)

Tryna wash away all the blood I've spilt, this lust is a burden that we both share

Two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer, souls tied, intertwined by our pride and guilt

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time, you and I drink the poison from the same vine

Oh, I love it and I hate it at the same time, hidin' all of our sins from the daylight

Just like most Na’vi, you’ve always felt comfortable at night. It always felt to you like the best time to be alive, is when the plants came to life alongside you, in iridescent hues and kaleidoscopes of vibrant colours. You’ve always liked how the village quieted, much like your mind, and how you were able to almost disappear in the dead of the forest, your body perfectly camouflaged in the trees and shrubbery surrounding you, glowing lights reflecting on your lustrous skin. It was heaven on Pandora, and it was yours to take, yours to enjoy, yours to experience.

It didn’t feel like that right now, as you were stalking towards the village with a hand around your neck, tears falling down your face, a forlorn disposition plaguing your mind, fear protruding uninvited through the stalks of your thoughts. You kept glancing behind you, trying to see if Neteyam was following you, and felt mildly soothed when the village came abruptly into focus. You let out a breath of relief that you felt has been lodged in your throat for too long and started running towards your tent, exalted when you reached it and pushed the flap closed, almost considering glueing it shut with the sap from the tree Na’vi use in building furnishings for the village and their homes. You couldn’t stop the scream that escaped you as a voice you didn’t expect to hear in a home you thought was deserted spoke up, filling the much needed silence.

“Is everything alright, Tanhí? Why are you so jumpy?” O'ì'en’s calming tone did very little to soothe you, but you knew you needed to settle your mind, so as to not raise suspicion. Any hint of what transpired between you and Neteyam would lead to complications you didn’t want to have to deal with, not when you had it all under control. There was no need to bring anyone into a war that only concerned two people, that would lead to destruction and ache you didn’t want anybody you cared about to have to experience. You had it all under control.

The reason for your unsightly fight with Neteyam brought back the conversation between yourself and Mo’at, that you tried your best to push away from your mind, that now came back in full swing as you finally took him in, as you knew you would have to tell him, and deal with the consequences of Eywa's vision and your decision to not talk the Tsa'hik out of it as a way to get revenge on the man who hurt you deeper and deeper with each day that passed. You and O'ì'en never made your relationship official, and never really even talked about it seriously, but there was no need - it was obvious enough. It was quite clear to most people that although undefined right now, your future was shaping up before your eyes, and its shape looked a lot like mating before Eywa, it looked a lot like kids and laughter and happiness and all the good things you thought you wanted, that you wanted to want every day of your life. You didn’t know whether you were convinced, deep down, but either way, you were always willing to try. Now, it seemed you wouldn't even get the chance.

“Everything’s fine, yawne. Just didn’t expect to see you here.” You thanked Eywa silently for the darkness in your home that hid your new-found bruises and closed the distance between you two, smiling as genuinely as you could bring yourself to, and reaching out to stroke his cheeks, the smile didn’t feel as forced when he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes and almost purring in comfortable contentment.

“I just came to check on you after the mission. You were… impressive. As you always are. It means so much, watching you out there, seeing what you’re capable of, how incredible you are, knowing the future moth-“ his eyes widened as his words registered in his mind and he stopped, and your expression couldn’t have been far removed from his in this moment, that felt all of a sudden thick with anticipation and nerves, with tension and fear. You didn’t know which emotions came from you.

“Ma O'ì'en…I…”

Both your heads snapped in the direction of the entrance, that was pushed open aggressively by a tall, muscular figure that you would recognise in every dream and every nightmare, in every waking moment, that you wished you didn’t. Neteyam stilled in his tracks as he noticed the scene in front of him, intimate and personal and clearly not for his eyes to see, and you felt a growl blossom in your throat that you had to swallow, if not for anything, for your still unflinching desire to keep this whole ordeal a secret for as long as you could.

“I’m interrupting.”

“Yes, yo-“

“No, Neteyam, future Olo’eyktan. Is there anything wrong?”

“I need to talk to her. About the… mission.”

“I shall leave you to it, then. Please give your family my regards.”

“Thank you, O'ì'en. I appreciate it.”

“No, yawne, you don’t have to leave. I can talk to Neteyam tomorrow. It’s late, anyhow.”

“Tanhi, we’ll… resume our conversation tomorrow, alright?” He gets close to you and his lips find your forehead for just a second, before he takes his leave, and you sigh, dread filling you at the thought of being in such proximity with the man that took so much space in your mind, the man that hurt you beyond words, that you would never be able to forgive.

“How touching.” his voice is filled with contempt and malice, and it hurts, still to this day, this tone you knew so familiarly, that you never managed to get used to, like a shadow following you in the night you would never be able to escape.

“Get the fuck out of my tent, Neteyam.”

“He seems to have taken the news of our impending doom of a mateship very well. I’m impressed.”

“Leave, Neteyam.”

“You would think he would leave out of here kicking and screaming, that he would punch me and challenge me to First Blood for the chance to keep you… maybe you’re not as big a catch as I thought.”

His steps were quiet, but determined, as he traversed the length of the tent and got close to you, until he took up your entire field of view and you hissed aggressively, your tail twirling so much it was almost hurting, as did your ears, pushed back until they were flat, and you removed your knife, resting in a sheath on your chest and held it a couple of millimetres from his neck.

“I said… leave.”

“Oh.. yawne, I doubt you’re going to kill me, but you’re more than welcome to try.”

He had no time to say anything else as the knife made contact with his smooth skin, and in one fell swoop, a thin stripe of blood emerged from his chest, and started dripping down his body. You looked at it, at the clean, bright red liquid spilling, then raised your gaze to his face, that wasn’t shocked or scared, or even angry, but alive with a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place in his eyes and a lazy smirk on his face. He shrugged.

“Guess I deserved that.”

“So… why wasn’t your little boyfriend upset about our arrangement? Cause the way I see it, this means either you just conveniently left it out of the conversation, or it’s because you are actually planning on talking yourself out of it to my parents.”

Your heart was booming in your chest as his eyes bore into yours and the intensity in them scared you, but not because of any elicited fear, but of how your body reacted to it and how you didn’t know what those feelings plaguing you were, or how to make them stop.

“Leave.”

“Now why would you not tell him about it? Are you scared? Scared he’ll find out you’ll finally get to be with a real man for once?”

You chuckled.

“Is that supposed to be you? That is funny, Neteyam, congratulations! I will let Lo’ak know that you managed to actually make a good joke for once in your life. He’ll be floored.” His expression darkened momentarily, but he regained his composure as quickly as he lost it.

“If that’s not it, then, that means you will talk to my parents. I knew you couldn’t be dumb enough to accept this stupid little forced deal.” You wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid little smirk off his face, and fortunately for you, you knew just the way to do it.

“Well, why, Neteyam, as much as the thought of being mated to you horrifies me beyond my wildest nightmares, it’s nothing compared to the joy I get thinking of how miserable you’re going to be if I don’t talk to your parents and have to watch the choice slip past your grasp, not that it was there to begin with, or the joy of - ah, there it is - the joy fading from your eyes as you realise you will have to tell your stupid little girlfriend that you and her, will never, ever happen, and she will never be Tsa’hik, and watch as you realise that everything I foretold is, in fact, true.”

It was your turn to smirk, widely and cruelly, as his smile faded a little more with every word you spoke, until it was completely removed and replaced with a snarl, deep scowl and menacing canines on full display for you, but you were no longer scared. No, pure adrenaline was rushing through your veins, heightened by the desire to hurt him, to see him crumble in front of you, to see him suffer a sliver of all the hurt he’s caused you over the years.

“Listen me very carefully, Neteyam. For one reason or another, you have made it your life purpose to make mine miserable, and only mine. I don’t want this to happen, I really don’t. I would rather be with any other man on this planet before I even considered looking in your direction, but I will make you pay for all the hurt you’ve caused me. And I have no problem burning in the pits of what Jake calls Hell, if I get to watch you burn with me.” You smiled a sweet smile, running your finger over the cut that was still leaking blood, trailing it down his abdomen, over his abs, and you ignored once more how the feel of his muscular body made shivers emanate from your fingertip, propagating throughout your whole being. You also ignored how his body shuddered under your touch. “So you and me, we’re stuck together, and there’s nothing you can do about it. And I will enjoy every moment of my life in which I get to see your life fall apart before you and know that I made it happen. So this little charming act you’re pulling, it’s all in vain. It’s all in vain. Now get out.”

You didn’t wait for him to answer you, but turned around and started preparing for bed. You removed the silk top covering your chest, and heard a sharp inhale as his eyes took in the scene, and your breath ceased, wondering if he was going to leave, like you told him to, wondering if you wanted him to. Eventually, the cold sting of the wind blowing hit your back, as he opened the flap to your tent and exited it, and all at once, it all hit you and you felt more alone, more forlorn than you ever have, and less sure than ever about your crazy, all-consuming schemes.

You woke up with doubt filling your mind and the headache to match, and you wondered if you did in fact have to leave the comfort and safety of your tent for the life that you knew would be waiting to tear you slowly at the seams as soon as you left it. Dreams plagued your subconscious last night, floating in the ether, waiting to be grabbed and inspected by an uncertain mind, and in your state, they were, and turned over onto each one of their pretty facets, bringing back memories you struggled to forget, that hurt you in their innocence and beauty, in their absence, in their contrast to your life right now and the relationship you still mourned to this day on odd occasions, on harder days, like yesterday, and like today.

In those dreams, Neteyam’s eyes gleamed with excitement and love, instead of annoyance and hatred. In those dreams, his hands were warm as his fingers intertwined with yours on the practice grounds, instead of bruising and calloused as they snuffed the breath out of your throat. In dreams, his smile brightened your whole world and made the pain of training and the struggle of excellence not only bearable, but barely-felt. You couldn’t even remember the last time Neteyam smiled your way, a true smile, a gummy smile, a playful smile he still flashed most people, he still flashed his family, and friends, and clan, all of which you used to be, none of which you still are to him.

You wondered sometimes, very rarely, if he ever thinks about those times, too. If in his undivided quest to hurt you and one-up you, in his desire to see you fail and the joy he seems to derive from it, you wondered, did he ever think about those times, too? Does he ever remember you, innocent and young, full of spark and happiness, looking up at him like he was a planet and you were just his moon, trapped in his gravitational pull, circling his orbit, offering him solace and safety from the rest of the universe, from all the meteors that always tried to take too much out of him, too quickly. He used to love you, and want to protect you, he was there when your parents died, he was there to help you mourn and heal. Does he remember what you used to mean to him?

As you made your way to the Sullys' tent, you were greeted by shouting and a seemingly unending back-and-forth, but the voices involved in it weren't the ones you expected - not when they weren't Lo'ak and Kiri's, who you found bickering almost on the daily, who you were used to having to mediate peace treaties for, but instead, Neteyam and Jake's, both angry and raising above the peaceful chatter of the village that was just coming to life in light of a new day.

"- and this is just the way it is, Neteyam. This isn't like you! You, more than all the rest of your siblings combined, have always been able to see the bigger picture, to understand that sacrifices sometimes are necessary for the greater good. You have always been the one who was able to have perspective. What the hell happened, son?"

"What happened is you're trying to get me to mate with someone who I hate, who I will never be able to accept. I had a chosen mate! I had a life, and a plan, and now it's all over. Now you're telling me I have to give her every part of me, the most intimate parts of me, my children, my future. Her!"

You cringed at the way he said your name - like a blasphemy, like a curse. Spitting it like it was blood and bile mixing together on his tongue, coating his mouth, like the vile word hurt sitting in his throat. and he desperately needed to get it out before it could do any more damage.

"This isn't my decision, son. And it's not yours, either. It's Eywa's. You know she's never wrong, you know there's a reason for this. She seems to see it, too, why can't you at least try?"

There was silence in the tent and you felt guilty for prying, your body crouched next to the tent and your ear against its woven fabric, but not guilty enough to stop. Jake sighed loudly. You heard Neytiri's calmer, more even tone take over.

"Ma 'itan... you used to love this girl. She used to be your best friend, you used to do everything together. I know things have changed between you, but deep down, you're both the same two people you used to be. You both can find each other again, you just have to try. Why won't you try?"

Neteyam huffed and the sudden commotion made you jolt back, hiding in the corner as he pushed passed the closed flap, muttering mostly to himself as he left the tent, and his family, behind.

"You know damn well why."

You let out a breath you've been holding for the entirety of the conversation, as you came out of hiding and entered the tent, trying your best not to look like you overheard the entirety of that conversation that although about you, clearly was not intended for your ears to hear. Even if you hadn't heard the whole thing, it would still be obvious you were on their minds and on their lips as their eyes scrambled in shame and embarrassment, the room drowned in awkwardness and heaviness none of you could quite shake, none of you could quite swim in gracefully. Neytiri spoke first, her motherly instincts kicking in as she noticed your pained expression, that as hard as you tried, you couldn't hide from the people you loved so much, from the people that knew you so well.

"Ma 'ite, come, sit. We saved you food." she took you gently by the shoulders and pushed you to the middle of the room, and then down until you sat next to Lo'ak, who gave you a pitying look and a half-smile, an underwhelming attempt at telling you he's heard the news, and he feels sorry for you. Lo'ak more than most people knew how it felt to be stuck to Neteyam, how it felt to know that, no matter what happened or where life took him, he'd always live in his big brother's shadow, unable to escape his majestic, adept, irritating grasp. It seems you were now in a similar boat, bound to be known as no more than Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan's mate, and eventually, the Tsa'hik of the Omaticaya. It was a good title, a worthy title, a mighty title - just not one for you, and Lo'ak knew this all too well.

"I didn't get to see you after the mission, kid. I wanted to tell you you did a phenomenal job. Neytiri and I are very proud of you, you are genuinely better and better every day."

You felt annoyance build in you at his comments, but pushed it down. They were being nice, and it wasn't their fault. None of this was their fault. It wasn't anybody's fault. It was Eywa's will. And Eywa knew best. And still, still, you couldn't help feel it, the frustration that gnawed at you at this situation, at the way none of it would matter soon in their eyes, how it would all be forsaken and forgotten, your skill, your prowess, everything you worked for for 19 years.

So, say something. Tell them you don't want to do it. That you're meant to be more, was born to be more than just his mate. Say something.

Nothing came out as you chewed your food apathetically, trying to focus instead of little Tuk who came to sit next to you, and you pulled her closer, sharing your food silently. She smiled up at you, and you couldn't help reach down and peck her on her forehead. It's been a while since you went out, just you girls, and you felt guilty for abandoning Kiri and Tuk for Lo'ak's training sessions and your own, and made a mental note to organise a foraging trip soon.

"Kid, you are one of the best warriors I have ever seen in my 19 years of being Olo'eyktan. In fact, you are one of the best I've ever seen, even back on Earth. You should be very proud of yourself and what you've achieved. I know there's so much still there for the taking, whenever you're ready."

"There's nothing left for me to take, Jake! Not anymore. Don't you see that? You all stand here, talking about how great I am, what a great warrior I am, but how the fuck does it matter anymore, huh? When I'll have to give it all up to become Tsakarem, to exist here, in the village, for the rest of my life instead of out there, where I actually belong, to exist to interpret Eywa's will, which I will never be able to do, because I will never be able to understand why she would ever think I could ever be this, all of this for the people, how she could think it's fair I have to give up all of me to belong to someone else who hates me, who'll get to shine in my stead, and fight in my stead, and fulfil the destiny I was bound by, that belonged to me just as much as him? I trained my whole life, side by side with Neteyam, to be just as good as him, to be just as good a tsamsiyu as he is, and now it's all in vain. So please, spare me the compliments, since they are just as wasted on me as my talent on the battlefield is."

You were no longer hungry, it seemed, and with one last kiss to Tuk, you got out of the tent, hearing a faint "Well, that could have gone better, with both of them." coming from Jake, accompanied by a deep sigh that mirrored yours. You heard footsteps follow you, but couldn't find it in you to stop, to care, not when more and more, it seemed like the ground was turning into quicksand beneath your feet, pulling you under with each moment you considered all you were giving up to get revenge on a man who you meant nothing to, who probably didn't care regardless, who was going to hurt you in this forced relationship more than you could ever hurt him. Maybe it wasn't worth it. Maybe your peace of mind, and your ability to reach your full potential was more important than the desperate, idiotic need to get Neteyam to suffer for the 7 years of indiscretions that clawed at your heart every day of your life.

"Syä, come on, don't make me chase after you."

You ignored Lo'ak, and continued walking until you hit the tree you both liked to go to think and vent, to talk and complain about anything and everything - his subjects always revolved around his father and his sisters, yours revolved around your lack of parents and the pressure that you felt to be great, the responsibility you shouldered, and you both shared one subject in particular, that occupied most of your time spent here. He climbed after you and you both settled on the branch you usually laid on.

"I'm sorry, syä."

"What about?"

"Everything. This whole thing. You don't deserve this."

You scoffed.

"I deserve what I got. That's why I got it. The Great Mother doesn't choose sides, and she's never cruel or unjust. So I must deserve this."

There was silence weighing heavily on the air around you and in both your minds. Lo'ak didn't have the most developed emotional maturity, so you knew better than to expect more. You appreciated the little he did say, because it did matter - it always will. You and Neteyam might be as far apart as two galaxies on opposing sides of the universe, but you and Lo'ak were adjacent stars in the night sky, there to shine together. You might not have a family, not truly, but he would always be your baby brother, and you would always be his big, bitter, best sister.

"I have to tell you, though... I feel bad for you and all, but it's so good to know I won't have to call that little scared, mindless yarik of a girl sister. She truly is the most dull, vapid, odious person I've ever met, and even with Neteyam's bad track record in girls, this one still shocks me to this day. Imagine her being Tsa'hik, ew."

You laughed a little. She really was bad. Not what you would have ever imagined Neteyam's type to be like, but more and more it seemed Neteyam's type was anyone who had absolutely no resemblance... to you. Like consciously or subconsciously, he just needed to make sure the person he was kissing, or touching, or fucking, had nothing of you that could hinder the experience for him. The thought hurt and tilted to balance back in the favour of your original malevolent, callous, rotten plan.

"Have you told O'ì'en yet? Can't imagine he'll be very pleased. That guy's whipped for you, for real. I've never seen someone literally have those heart eyes that you see in those old cartoons my dad used to show us when we were kids."

You sighed another bottomless sigh as you thought about yet another person who had to suffer as a result of this scheme. Your boyfriend for all intents and purposes, the man you once thought you might spend the rest of your life with. A man who was good and pure, who treated you well, who put you first. You realised with a small chuckle that, much like Neteyam, you, too, subconsciously found the opposite of him and held on for dear life, only to now have to let him go.

"Not yet."

"You should, syä. He deserves to know."

"Yeah. He does."

Lo'ak's words rang in your ears as you were walking through the village in search for the one person you needed to see, and you knew where he would be, where he always was when he had spare time, dutiful as always, responsible as he would always be. You smiled a half-smile as you saw him with a gun in hand, peering through the visor, full focus as he was aiming for one of the targets nailed to a tree 500 metres away.

"You're aiming too low." his eyes snapped to you, and the smile he gave you, so genuine and wide and comforting hurt you, it all hurt your heart that was struggling to maintain itself whole in the face of everything that it had to endure in time, and more so recently.

You joined him, motioning for him to resume what he was doing, and you placed a hand on the underside of the sniper he was holding, inching it upwards.

"You have to adjust for the distance and the gravity pulling the bullet down as it flies towards the target. Like with an arrow."

"An arrow I get. This, I don't think I ever will."

"You will, O'ì'en. I know you will." I just won't be the one to teach you anymore.

"I was hoping you'd come." He dropped the weapon on the ground, finding better luck in counting the stars on your face instead, and with a caress of your lips, you shuddered under his touch, leaning into it, exhaling softly as his own lips found yours in a soft, intimate exchange. "I missed you, and I wanted to tell you something, I needed to tell you what's been on my mind from the moment you first appeared in front of me during my first lesson."

Your heart was pounding in your chest and in your temples, the words that you knew were coming scaring you, their weight, their implication dizzying you, turning you into a breathy, untethered mess as you spoke words with barely enough strength to be heard.

"O'ì'en, I -..."

"Please, let me get this out. I love you, tìyawn. I love you, and everything about you. I love your beauty, and your strength. I love how incredible you are, and how skilled. I love how despite your tough exterior, you have a gentle heart. And you are kind, and good, and I just know you'd be the best mother one day. I just hope it's to our kids. I want you to be mine, to mate before Eywa, to finally have the lo-"

His words and the erratic beating of your heart in your ears, the tears glossing over your eyes, dulled your senses to the man who was approaching you, and you suppressed a hiss at the interruption, at the one who instigated it, at the one who always seemed to conveniently find a way to do so. Neteyam walked until he was so close to you his hips were brushing against your waist, that, much to your unadulterated shock and disbelief, he circles with his arm, holding on to you tightly as he spoke.

"I have been looking everywhere for you, ma muntxate. Father called an emergency meeting and he needs you there immediately. He asked me to go find my love, so typical of him, don't you think?" His smile was sweet and innocent, but you knew better, knew that he just ruined the last pure thing in your life, the one thing you tried to hard to protect, the one thing you were just reconsidering this whole ordeal for, once more. O'ì'en...

"What did you say?"

"Oh, ma ‘eylan, haven't you heard? Her and I are to be mated soon. Isn't that just great?"

The sound of both your and O'ì'en's hearts shattering all around you and the swift melody of Neteyam winning yet another battle is the last thing you heard before the man you cared for turned around and left, taking the future and the hopes he held safely within his soul, leaving you with more guilt and shame than you would ever know what to do with.

taglist: @fanboyluvr @theycallmesia @afro-hispwriter @soleilmoon @crazy4books1 @bakugouswaif @randxmthxughts @xreadersstuff @sirezaya @kimberlyshailany-blog @gyuventure @jujudsmyst @kikookii @nxptury @nonniesworld @koing-slvt @bakugouswaif @isnt-itstrange @tpwkforevermore @alahamums @tallulah477 @gknj9495 @aquamarine001 @itssomeonereading @yumimak

906 notes · View notes

wandasfifthwife · 2 months

Text

hiding from plain sight

— lara croft x fem!reader

summary | lara didn’t think that her last minute tactic to hide would end up with the two of you confessing

tw | R & L basically make out, SUGGESTIVE CONTENT, awkward confessions, they’re running from people wanting to hurt them

a/n | NOT PROOFREAD. this scene is following what happened in the game, but I obviously changed it a bit. enjoy :)

༺ lara croft m.list ༻

Landing in Peru had a rough start. Going off of the plane crash you tried to have hope that it all would stop. The flood from before was sickening, everyone just barely surviving. Just before the plane had begun its descend, Lara had gone on about how she awoken something, but you still had hope this was all a fever dream. That she awoke nothing and was another tangent of hers.

That hope was a fantasy.

If you were a friend of Lara. Anywhere the woman went injuries and chaos followed.

You all were grateful for the support from a nearby city after the back-to-back death experiences. Lara and Jonah had been at these adventures far longer than you, so it made sense that they wouldn’t look as bothered. What didn’t make sense is for you to be just as unbothered, but you tried for the sake of not disturbing them.

Lara had gotten up from the table you all were sitting, saying she wants to look around.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come,” Jonah starts but Lara waves it off, saying she’s told him before that he’s deserves rest.

“I could?”

Jonah puts a handle hand near you, “are you sure. You still look like you’re in shock.”

“I’ll be fine.”

You follow Lara out towards the city. The mountains and shrubbery surrounding were breathtaking, bringing life to the already crowded streets.

“Being out here makes it difficult to want to go back home, why would someone wish to stare at architecture all day?”

A glare is sent her way, “You seek out stone, Lara, and stare at it for days. Sometimes weeks.”

She hums, looking over to you with a small smile. A sigh comes from her then, sounding exhausted.

“I feel terrible,” she points at you and Jonah in a fluid motion, “I’ve dragged you through hell.”

She leans on her right hip, a new habit of hers as she rubs a finger over your cheek. You hiss when it comes into contact right where your face had unfortunately crashed into the broken glass on the ground.

“Thankfully it’s not too deep,” she looks like she’s going to continue her doting and you’re quick to shut it down with a playful swat to. her hand.

“I'm going to live with a few cuts and bruises. How’re you, I haven’t even asked.”

“I’ll live.”

The end of her sentence is cut off with a guttural shout, Jonah’s body barreling into hers being the cause. His hand comes on end shoulder to steady her.

“You have to move,” he shoves you forward, “go.”

He’s calm on the outside, but the constant looking over his shoulder makes you nervous. As you run he attempts to explain the situation, a hoard of attackers are running through the town. An arrow flies through the air, a sound sharp in your ear as it narrowly misses your head.

“Jonah I’ll call you on your radio, stay safe.”

He’s giving a curt nod, looking to the both of you, before sprinting to the opposite end of the city. With you all separated, Lara grabs your arm and drags you down a decently sized cliff. Her hands steady you but she’s barely giving you any time before she’s tugging you along again. You’re trying your best but you’re out of breath, every deep breath feels you’re allowing needles into your lungs.

“Lara,” you gasp, “please, I need a moment.”

She doesn’t make any sign that she’s heard you, but you’re too scared to ask again, feeling like you’ve used all your petty asks. When she begins to speak you realize she’s heaving air just as a rough as you.

“Okay,” a crevice between two buildings is where she leads you, “we can rest here for a minute, hide from the general view.”

Her grip slips from yours as you slide down the wall and fall onto the ground. Sweat drips down onto the ground with the way your head fit between your legs. Lara’s at the entrance, looking around and listening to every word someone’s speaking nearby.

“What’s happening?”

Lara shakes her head and comes to rest beside you, “I’m not sure. Could be Trinity, or an enemy of the village we’re in.”

A minute passed and you feel it’s easier and even lighter to breathe again. Neither of you have said much for the sake of trying to saying hidden until the yelling in the distance quiets down. You’re hoping with every bone in your body you won’t have to run again.

“I think-“

“We could lead you to the mountain.”

Goosebumps line your body. Lara looks to you before walking towards the entrance of the alleyway. Judging by how fast she’s pushing her way towards you, you’re assuming it’s nothing good. Her hands find their way on your shoulders, face turned towards the little space between the buildings you’re squished between.

“Trinity,” she whispers, exasperated, “they’re here?”

“Do they know that we are as well?”

“It’s possible.”

The little stones in the dirt below you dig into you as her hands tighten around you. Her breath hot on your face as she mumbles nonsense under her breath.

“There’s nowhere for us to go,” you express your concern.

“That much is obvious, I’m trying to hear how far they are compared to us. Maybe we have a chance of running.”

That second she hears Dominguez’s voice what sounds like only a few steps away. She’s cursing, looking above and around you two.

“Lara,” you ask worryingly, hearing the footsteps getting clearer. Your eyes stay on her, frozen in fear if you two have to fight.

“Do you trust me.”

Your chest brushes hers with each breath. Her hair brushes your face with close she is. Your eyes are focused on her heavy ones as they search your face for an answer. Looking at how you two are, it’s almost funny how she thinks you don’t trust her. In the moment she’s your solid ground like she’s always been since you’ve ran into her.

“Yes,” you say and immediately her face is closing the distance between you two. A soft gasp comes from you as she moves her lips gently over yours. Hands push your legs apart, the space allowing for her body moves closer.

“Put your hands on me,” she murmurs against your lips.

You tuck your fingers into her buckle loop and tug her closer if possible. She kisses you with more passion now. Every sound coming from you is distracting when she’s trying to focus on the danger walking nearby.

“Lara is here in Peru?”

His tone is cold, scaring you. You act quick, weaving a hand into Lara’s hair and dragging her ponytail loose. Every second following you’re removing item after item to try and seem unrecognizable.

Her hands are fiddling with the buttons of your shirt. She’s pressing a kiss under your jaw, guiding down your neck. You’re embarrassed by the genuine moan that slipped.

You spot his figure come into view from behind Lara’s head and right away you’re shutting your eyes again. Ignorance is bliss.

Her lips find yours again, hands resting atop of yours. Thumbs rub soothing circles on the back of your hands as she navigates your arms to rest on her shoulders.

Another minute passes. The ministrations between you calming down as you realize he’s left. Your face heats when you look down to her rather swollen lips.

“I think he’s left,” she’s avoiding looking at you with the way her face is turned all the way around. “We can call Jonah and find where he’s at.”

She looks back to you and begins to ramble, guilt resting in her tight expression.

“I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me.”

“What?”

“I didn’t have to do that to hide. I should’ve thought more carefully about my actions.”

“It wasn’t unwelcome, I actually quite enjoyed it.”

She looks decently surprised, maybe satisfied, “yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile.

Her face comes close so she can place one on your cheek, “like that?”

You nod and she’s leaning in again to kiss at your collarbone, asking the same question before and getting the same answer. You relax into a full kiss, bringing a hand to comb through her long hair.

“That too?”

You laugh, “I like the kisses and the one giving them.”

She returns your ecstatic attitude, placing one last kiss on the corner of your lips, “me too.”

You grin fully, fear almost fading into a distant memory. The sheer joy on your face finds its way through how you’re pulling her near to kiss at her cheek. Trinity could come back any second, but you’re on cloud nine, so what else matters?

“We probably should dial Jonah,” she tries but grows weak at now you whine in disbelief. You’re about to agree when you hear his voice coming up.

“I heard you two through the radio,” his forehead shiny from the sweat rolling down his face, “why are you on the ground?”

You let a snarky laugh, nudging Lara but she’s putting her hands up. Jonah blinks, looking down to your neck, “woah what bit you?”

“Lara?” you say meekly.

“Is that some kind of species here?”

taglist

@thiskingdomwillendure

#lara croft x fem reader #lara x fem!reader #lara x reader #lara croft x fem!reader #lara croft x reader #tomb Raider #shadow of the tomb raider #tomb raider lara croft #lara croft #lara #tomb raider lara

112 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 5 months

Text

Horror Movies Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary: She shares a special passion for horror movies with her boss, Neil Lewis. But it doesn't end there, she also shares his secrets... or at least the ones he can keep himself. He's been keeping one from her but maybe a night of adventure will break the silence and scare them to their senses.

Warnings: Drinking, semi-public sex, boss/employee relationship, struggles with self-image, spying, invasion of privacy, slight disrespect for the dead, smut, moments of miscommunication and assumed consent, unprotected sex, oral, and some fluff.

word count: 3229k

Lady Grinning Soul- David Bowie 🎶

Freak- Lana Del Rey 🎵

Minors do not interact!

“What are you doing, Neil?” She whispered, not wanting to trespass.

“Having a little adventure since our act of chivalry was all for naught.” He shrugged and smiled goofily.

“You want to play golf?” She looked between the dark green and Neil’s face.

“Nah, not golf.”

She stared at him for a little while longer before ducking beneath the fence. He followed her and they started to cross the green, looking up at the star studded sky.

“The stars are so pretty tonight.” She pointed up at the clusters of twinkling lights.

“Wait until you see what I have to show you.” He smiled mischievously and took her wrist. He pulled her across the golf course and through the connecting gate.

“Where are we now?” She looked around and noticed the distant groupings of headstones. “Are we in a cemetery?”

“Bingo.” Neil laughed and let her wrist go, running ahead a little. The graveyard was cool and still, surrounded on all sides by tall shrubbery. They climbed the short hill up onto the main stretch of green, walking alongside the grave markers.

“This feels like the beginning of a horror movie.” She recalled Neil’s previous statement from the morning and he laughed.

“I like to come here at night. It’s so peaceful and I like to look at the people’s names. It helps put my life into perspective.” He led her to a small mausoleum beside a weeping willow and swiped his arm across his forehead.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestured around and she nodded.

“It really is but… what does this have to do with the bra?”

“Ah, well since you can’t use it and Nancy doesn’t want it back, I thought we could leave it as an offering… here.”

“Who do you want to give it to?”

“Someone who died the same day that one of us was born.” He stated as he had already begun looking. She helped him and they passed the lines of headstones, checking each name for their respective birth and death dates. They wandered through a few plots until they found a secluded embankment. There was an older headstone with Neil’s birthday listed as the person’s death date.

“Here.” Neil pointed to the numbers on the stone and smiled up at her from the ground where he was crouched. She joined him on the ground and nodded. “Edgar Allen… that’s almost too weird. It must be a fake name. Edgar Allen? He just needs a ‘Poe.’”

She trailed her fingers over his name and nodded.

“So, how do we do this?”

“What, are you saying that you’ve never left an expensive bra at a dead person’s grave?” He joked and she almost laughed out loud when he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her with a smile.

“You’ll wake the dead.” He whispered and she smiled against his hand, her eyes boring into his. She hoped that her eyes were telling him what she wanted or how happy she was to be with him, even if it was in a fucking cementary. He removed his hand slowly and cleared his throat. Sweat coating his forehead, trapping a few strands of his longer dark hair.

“We, uh, let’s just drape it over the headstone.” He put the bra over the long rectangular top of the stone.

“We should say a few words.” She offered and cleared her throat quietly, “May I?” She glanced over at him. Neil was staring at her, his lips parted partly.

“Uh, er, yeah. Of course.” He sniffed and looked back at the headstone.

“Mr. Allen, we leave you this offering in hopes that you will bestow upon us the grace of your guidance and experience. Inspire us to be brave and forward with our… desires,” she couldn’t think of a better word, “Help us imagine ways of living our lives to the fullest.” She added. When she glanced over, Neil was nodding almost absentmindedly.

“Give us a little adventure in our lives, Edgar.” He clarified.

“Mhmm.” She hummed in agreement and they waited in silence for a few minutes, taking in the serene peacefulness of the graveyard.

“If this were a horror movie, we would be-” She broke the silence but the force of Neil’s body cut her off. He’d kissed her, his hands snaking behind her head and pulling her into an aggressive kiss. She pulled away breathlessly, he was panting too.

“What-” She started.

“I’m sorry, christ. I thought you were… sending me a signal.” He stumbled over his words.

“You thought I was asking you to make a move on top of someone’s grave?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow and he chuckled, embarrassed.

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… oh I don’t know.” He trailed off and stood, putting his hands back into his pocket and turning away from the grave. She followed him quickly.

“What, Neil?” She stumbled after him, up the embankment. He spun around and held a hand against his head.

“I just… I thought that lately there was something different between us.” He looked away.

“Neil…” she frowned and fought the anger in her voice, “you just fucked someone last night. I don’t know if I should believe anything that you’re saying right now.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at the sky.

“I, well we didn’t actually… have sex.” He mumbled.

“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrow.

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing,” he pulled down on his face and trilled his lips.

“What, what is it?” He nearly smiled, finding him too funny to take seriously.

“Well, she came into the store right before closing last night and put on this whole act about which movie to pick… kind of like the girl in the store today. I told her to pick Arsenic and Old Lace… yada yada yada, she ends up flirting and leaning over the counter, batting her eyelashes at me. I’ll admit that I succumbed to her but as soon as she got me on the couch, she started… eh slapping me and calling me a bad boy and look, I totally get kinks but it was a little too weird for me.”

“So what happened?” She encouraged him to go on and he looked back at her, his heart fluttering in his chest. He sighed and looked at his feet.

“We watched the movie and the whole time she wouldn’t stop talking, so she missed basically everything. And when the movie was over, she started kissing me and undressing herself. And when she got my pants down, I couldn’t get it up. So, that’s what happened.”

She gasped and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t funny, Neil,” she apologized but he shook his head. “Whatever, go ahead and laugh. I don’t know how it happened but I just wasn’t attracted to her. I don’t need a girl who’s a film geek like me but I can’t stand people who just talk through a movie or pay absolutely no attention to what’s happening. There’s not point in putting it on if you’re not going to pay attention. And not to mention she looked-” He cut himself off and chucked.

“What?” She waited for him to finish but he shook his head.

“It’s silly.” He sniffed.

“We’ve already gotten this far, you might as well tell me.”

He cocked his head, staring at her face in the faded light of the crescent moon. He inhaled deeply and told her, point blank.

“She looked like you,” he took another breath, “she looked like you but she was nothing like you. I realized that I was only humoring her because she looked like you and for some reason, my subconscious had tricked me into thinking she was you. And after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He watched her for her reaction and she exhaled shakily, not knowing how to respond.

“What happened after that?” She asked quietly.

“I told her that it wasn’t a good night and she packed up. In the heat of the moment, she must have forgotten her bra but look,” he took a step closer, “that doesn’t mean our relationship needs to change. It's not like I’m in love with you or obsessed, I just realized that the person that I was really attracted to this whole time has been you.” He looked down into her eyes. “I didn’t have time to explain it this morning and I knew how it looked so…” He shrugged, “I actually haven’t slept with anyone in weeks. Ever since you got the haircut actually, I guess I haven’t stopped thinking about you whether or not I was conscious of it.”

“Jonathan asked me out.” Was all she could think to say and Neil chuckled lightly.

“That’s a minor detail.”

“He’s one of your best friends.”

“And because he’s one of my best friends, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.”

“What if I don’t like you back?” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to stand her ground a little longer. He took one more step closer, their feet almost touching and he leaned over slightly, his breath brushing her forehead.

“Do you like me?” He asked softly.

“I don’t know,” she lied. He brushed his lips against hers.

“Do you want to find out?” He teased her and her breath caught, nearly choking her. She couldn’t speak from the nerves paralyzing her, so she just nodded. He rubbed his lips against her lips, not kissing her yet. She brushed her nose against the soft spot of skin below his nose and above his lip, standing on the balls of her feet. Her hands came up and stopped midair, unsure how or where to touch him. Turning his head slightly to the side he kissed her. His hands went from the top of her thighs to her waist and then up to her neck, which he held in place while he moved his head to kiss her. He stood still and reciprocated his slow kisses as best as she could. She put her hands on the outside of his and wrapped her fingers around each wrist. He sucked on her lip and she let her head fall back, giving him a better angle. She stumbled back a little and he caught her in his arms, his lips never skipping a beat as he sucked her and explored her.

“Are we going to fuck in a graveyard?” She panted, pulling herself away from his hungry mouth. Neil smiled and looked around at the deserted cemetery, empty with the exception of the dead. He shrugged.

“Do you think they’ll hold it against us? Haunt us for the rest of our lives?” She smiled.

“Are you kidding? They’re probably dying for a show.” He cracked himself up over his own pun and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She kissed him again before he could make another joke and pulled him into the alcove of a mausoleum. There was a stone casket beside the mausoleum and they stumbled over to it, wordlessly deciding to fuck against it. He pressed her back up against the cold stone which felt amazing in the humid summer air. He groped her breasts and she slid a hand down Neil’s chest below the waistband of his jeans. She reached her hand into his underwear and took a hold of his hard cock. She smiled against his lips.

“It obviously wasn’t a problem this time, was it?” She teased and he groaned, looking up at the sky.

“No, no, it wasn’t.” He laughed breathlessly as she rubbed her hand down his length, twisting her palm at the end. He went back to kissing her but broke off to whine and pant occasionally as she jerked him off. She pulled her hand back out and spat on it before returning it back into his pants. She fondled his balls and squeezed them, making him gasp against her lips. He reached a hand up her camisole and wrestled his hand beneath her bra. He was definitely a breast man.

She removed her hand from his pants and pulled his pelvis against her by looping her fingers through his belt loops. With his free hand, Neil unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly. She did the same for his jeans and turned around, sticking her butt against his hard crotch.

“Fuck…” Neil looked at her ass and felt himself get even harder. He pulled her back against him by holding her shoulder. He kissed her bare neck and carded his hands through her cropped hair. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered and she sighed softly. At that moment, she felt infinitely beautiful, so beautiful that it would last a lifetime. He pulled down his pants slightly and glanced around before bending her over again. She pulled down her jeans and rubbed her underwear against him like before. She held her hands flat against the stone casket monument and opened her mouth, nearly moaning in anticipation of Neil’s cock inside her. He slowly rolled down her underwear, the hipster style that covered her butt. They were white, ironically.

Exposing her ass, he moaned and reached around to her cunt and rubbed her clit.

“God, fuck me already, Neil.” She pleaded and he nodded.

“Are you wet enough? I don’t have a condom.”

“I’m soaking wet, Neil. Don’t worry about the condom. It’s ok with me.”

“Ok, ok.” He smiled and spat on his hand, rubbing the saliva over her folds. Then he did it again, smearing his spit on his own cock. She gasped loudly when he pushed his tip inside her. He grabbed her hips and tried to stop himself from rutting into her.

“Fuck, go slow… you’re so big.” She whimpered and moaned as he slowly pushed further in. He gasped pitifully and resisted the urge to cum immediately like a schoolboy.

“Jesus, you feel so good.” He panted and watched as his cock went further inside her. She clutched her uterus, trying to allow him to enter her. He whined as she did so and gave a few tiny thrusts.

“Ah, ahh.” He moaned weakly and started to fuck her more regularly, feeling her walls begin to mold around him. “Oh fuck, its so good.” He pulled her hips against him with a harder thrust and she cried out softly, her hands sweating against the stone. As she became wetter, he slid in and out faster, hitting the bottom of her uterus each time.

“Jesus, Neil!” She moaned and pushed herself against him, wanting him further inside.

“I can’t go any farther, honey. You’re not big enough.” He whispered against her neck and continued to fuck her with the same primal sexuality as a dog in heat. She hummed to keep herself from screaming out.

“Fuck yes, this is so good.” He praised her and went faster, his pale legs shaking with pleasure. He felt like he was losing his virginity all over again, needing to come already and they had just started. He pulled out and spun her around to kiss her, his hand holding her chin up to reciprocate his kiss. He switched places with him and pushed him onto the ground where he was sitting on the grass. She kicked off her jeans and underwear, still in her shoes and socks and straddled him. He whimpered as she lowered herself onto him and sat completely on him. She shifted her hips back and forth, wanting him to stay completely inside her. His back was against the stone. When she started to feel her orgasm approaching he started to move up and down, snapping on top of his cock in quick movements that made them both cry out.

“Mmmm, fuck…” Neil panted and looked up at her, studying how her head fell back and her neck arched out towards him. He looked down and watched how her cunt took him, so wet that precum dribbled down his cock onto his pubic hair.

“Um, God, Neil, I’m gonna cum.” She panted and he smiled.

“Come here,” he wrapped his arms around her and turned her around again, laying her flat on her back on the grass and thrusted into her again. She gasped and clutched a handful of grass above her head. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and he sat on his knees, pulling her up to meet him. He fucked her hard and fast, pounding his pelvis against hers. The muscles in his butt clenched as he fucked her desperately. She covered her mouth and cried out in pleasure. She squirted but he continued to fuck her, chasing his own high.

“I’m so close.” He panted and ran his hand down her chin. She looked so beautiful below him, mouth still slightly agape in a pleasurable ‘O’ shape. “Fuck! Oh my God.” He cried and pulled out quickly so that he wouldn’t cum inside her. She rolled over and sucked him off, allowing him to fuck her throat weakly as he finally spilled him cum down her throat. She rolled her tongue around his cock and licked the tip as he pulled out, panting like he had just run a race. He collapsed beside her on the ground and laughed in disbelief. She laughed too, covering her face with her hands.

“Fucking hell.” She laughed into her hands. “That was the best I ever had,” she admitted and he smiled proudly.

“Honestly it was mine too, and my first time in a cemetery, I’ll admit.”

“What, you’re saying to don’t fuck all your girlfriends here?” She teased and he shook his head, rolling it side to side on the ground. A pleasant silence settled between them as they caught their breath. She tried to ignore the fact that she mentioned girlfriends. Neil flopped his head to the side and watched her, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked.

“Is that what you are now?” He asked.

“Am I what?”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He clarified with a small smirk.

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” She laughed and looked away.

“No…” He rolled on top of her and kissed her all over her face, “this is my way of asking. Will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” He asked between feverish kisses. She giggled and propped herself up on her elbows, kissing him back. He slowed his kisses down and she pulled away with a happy sigh.

“I guess so.” She said finally and he raised his shoulder to his ears, looking around in childish glee.

“Oh, come on!” She pushed him playfully away and stood. He helped her change back into her clothes and they fixed their clothing. She combed through Neil’s hair with her fingers and nodded her approval. Neil looked down at his watch and nodded.

“The store opens in exactly seven hours, whatever will we do with our time?” He wrapped his arms around her, clamping her arms against her sides and kissing her neck.

“I have an idea.” She smiled around his kisses.

“What?”

“Take me home.”

“What if you’re a serial killer?” He faked a sense of suspicion.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find out.” She teased and kissed him deeply, her index finger pressed against the hollow of his cheek.

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #watching the detectives #cillian fanfic #fanfiction #neil lewis x fem!reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis #gumshoe video #smut

141 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 7 months

Text

Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister: Can’t Bring Myself To Wake You

A/N: surprise! It’s relevant!

Warnings: spiders mentioned briefly, Alice in Wonderland vibes 🍄, the hobbit vibes, Tim Burton vibes (Would recommend listening to this Tim Burton vibes playlist for Halloween)

Word count: 4,912

-Part 8-

Visual Prompt here!

It’s obviously a dream—the world isn’t right upside down.

It takes seconds to realise the error, flipping the correct way up. Reorienting itself to become seamlessly correct.

Leaves wilt from trees, disconnecting from branches then fluttering away to visit flower patches, eager to gather honey. Waters babble and converse, complaining about the distance to open ocean, how far there’s yet to go.

Quiet footsteps pad alongside a creek, water sausages perking up at irregular intervals—distanced and without discernible pattern.

He’s still so far away, the three stars in the sky your only guide, glittering like tiny sequins woven upon a thick, inky fabric. The kind that would have kept out the cold on frosty winter nights. Toes curl but you press forward, sun rising on the horizon, soaring to the sky, well above the treetops.

The forest shifts, rendered now in caramel and whiskey, shades of autumnal gold gilding the leaves. They crackle and crunch beneath your feet, but you attempt to keep to the path—getting fainter and fainter the further you go. Just like the dimming starlight. You’ll have to hurry your pace—you need to find him before the starlight winks out, and you aren’t keen on meeting the creatures kept secret by night.

Peer at the gentle wolf to your right, blue-grey eyes gleaming with interest, taking in the colours of the world. “How much longer do you think?” You ask quietly, not wanting to disturb her too greatly. Definitely not wanting to irritate the silver eyed wolf below you, keeping you aloft upon her back ever since your feet became too tired to go on. Months ago.

“Another few hours?” She chimes back, raising her snout to the air, inhaling the no-doubt sweet smells. “It’s difficult to say.” You sigh heavily, settling down into the fur, resigning yourself to the travel.

It feels like years pass as you trudge along, boots too worn to protect against the biting cold of the mud. Keep out the nipping frost that comes with early autumn. In the distance you can make out how the forest thickens, becoming denser—darker. Where the fouler creatures lurk, beneath the shadows of thick branches and behind gnarled trunks. A shiver rolls down your spine at the thought of entering. It’s not a friendly place.

“Do we really have to pass through here?” You ask, peering up at the thick tree-line, too little space between each one to be natural. Growing in a dense cluster, all tightly knit and wound in a patterned tangle.

The silver eyed wolf snarls softly, shaking out her mane, shifting upon her great paws—claws clipped at their tips. You take the hint, reluctantly sliding off, ragged boots sinking into the mud. “You pass through on your own,” she growls, not taking another step forward. “This is your journey. Not ours.”

Brows furrow, and you glance to your right, eyes locking with blue-grey. Animal lips part in a wolfish smile, showcasing gleaming white canines. “She’s right,” the wolf says, as gently as possible, a steady gleam in her sharp eyes. “We’ve had our tasks, now you need to complete your own.”

Heart weighs in your chest, again peering up at the looming forest. “I can’t make it through there,” you reason, returning your gaze to the blue-grey eyed wolf. “I don’t have claws, or teeth, or anything like you do.”

Her smile doesn’t fade, just nods to the forest, grin and foreboding. Above you, clouds gather into dark puffs of raw cotton, welling with rivers, rallying their forces.

The forest stretches before you, long and endless. It will be difficult to make out the stars from beneath the stuffy canopies. You’ll have to find a way to peek through the shrubbery in order not to lose your way. What sort of fate would await you were you to become lost? Infinitely walking in lines that never come to an end. Trudging for days on end without ever knowing the correct direction.

But rewards aren’t granted to the idle, and your prize is greater than any. So the trial must fit the goal. Equivalent exchange.

“Don’t lose your head,” the silver-eyed wolf barks, startling you from thought. “Remember, keep the sun to your left. And pay attention to any moss you see.” Swallow, but nod your head, cataloguing the information. “And if you’re ever cornered, there’ll always be another way out,” the wolf to your right reminds. “We don’t make homes without a second exit.”

You nod, awaiting the third voice. Gentle and reassuring.

“What are you waiting for?” The silver-eyed one barks, startling you. “The quicker you start, the sooner it should end.” Nod again, attempting to calm your heart, even out your breathing. Lightly clasp the small pouch of gifts at your hip, the pendant already adorned, twin daggers at your waist.

Begin the trek toward the centre of the forest, having to pass through it’s stomach before reaching the other side.

“Don’t lose your way.”

Picture the way her jaws smile, razor-sharp canines gleaming.

Step forward, swallowed by the thick darkness.

————

You’d been anticipating the lack of light, so it wasn’t much of a bother. The scent was damp, but nothing putrid. It was the weight that had caught you off guard. The bizarre heaviness that pressed down upon your shoulders with every step forward, as if attempting to drive you off-course.

Hours have passed since you last saw the wolves, yet they feel worlds away. Separated by the barrier of consciousness, left entirely to yourself. Confined to solitude. Spend your time counting cocoa coloured conkers, though they’re few and far between.

There are all sorts of oddities to be found, and you occasionally find yourself moving to stray from the path in favour of inspecting something glinting in the near distance. Other times it’s odd noises: the crackling of branches, or the scuffle of paws through leaves. Most unnervingly of all, the hairs at the nape of your neck haven’t lowered since you stepped foot in here, a queer other kind of weight causing your skin to prickle.

It’s lonely and quiet, yet you dare not make excessive noise, some hereditary instinct warning you from sound. Day and night are hard to distinguish, circadian rhythm gradually decomposing under the heavy dampness contained within the forest.

Leaves rustle again, a cold breeze trilling down the pronounced knuckles of your spine, skin slightly hollow, stomach groaning with the bone-deep ache of constant hunger. Eyes dart frenetically about your surroundings, but it’s too dense to see further than the third line of tightly-tangled trees.

Sticks snap to your left, crunching menacingly, the noise swallowed by the forest swiftly. Something could be walking alongside you, but unless it made itself known, you would be none the wiser. All sorts of creatures could be stalking your steps. The sky’s the limit in here.

A twig splinters, and you flinch, jumping back. Peer at the broken branch beneath your foot, laying almost deliberately across the path. Something growls from your left: a low, hushed sound. Ragged and hungry sounding. Desperate for food as you are. Gaze flits about, heart scuttling around your ribcage, arteries tangling to a lethal web. Ears twitch with vigilance, skin pebbling with caution. Nerves droning with warning as they have incessantly for these past few weeks.

“Hello, little lamb.”

Head snaps to the side, stumbling back a few steps as your eyes lock with whiskey and caramel.

A large fox peers from between the trees, snow-soft paws prowling silently as he slowly stalks forward, tall as a horse. Sharp, beady eyes glint with cunning, razor-sharp canines pronounced from his upper lip, snout protruding elegantly from his features. Distinctly vulpine. Six wire-like whiskers stick from his nose, sleek and gracious.

“What are you?” You ask, hand settling over your heart, calming the rapid beat. Finger the pendant at your throat, feeling the cool weight of lead resting atop your collar bones.

The tall fox prowls closer, removing himself from the lining of the trees, circling forward to be positioned in your pathway. “What’s a creature like you doing in a place like this?” He croons. You don’t belong here, his eyes read. Silver flickers in the back of your mind, spine straightening as you pull yourself together. “Just passing through. I’d like to be on my way.”

A cackled rasp drags from the beast’s throat—something that could have been a laugh. “Just passing through,” he repeats back, shifting forward. “A creature like you doesn’t enter the woods unless she has to,” he muses, caramel and whiskey piercing upon your form. “What’s so important you’re risking these depths?”

“A creature like me doesn’t enter the woods unless she knows she can survive,” you counter, flexing your hands at your sides, fingertips sparking. Interest flickers in his gaze, marking the unnatural glow. Colours that belong to the sky, not on earth. He hums absently, now taking in the rest of you: raggedy boots, small pouch at your hip, partially concealed beneath a midnight blue cloak. The pendant at your throat, a reassuring weight.

Become aware of how close he’s gotten, looming before you—dip your hands to your hips, tucking beneath your cape. “I’d like to pass now,” you say firmly, fingers clasping the hilts of the short weapons. “It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” Make to move around him, but he steps into your way, jaws parting slightly in a gleaming grin.

“I don’t even know your name,” he reminds, “what can I call you?” Lips purse warily, his caramel and whiskey eyes gleaming with cunning. “Blue,” you answer.

“Blue?” He chuckles. “What a curious name.” Razor-sharp canines flash in a grin, snout curling as his lips pull back from his teeth. “You said you’re headed through the forest,” he states, eyes gleaming with predatory intent. “Allow me to join you.”

Brow narrows, fingers grazing the hilts of the short daggers. “I’m fine on my own,” you reply, reassured by the cool weight of the weapons. Animal lips quirk, amusement glittering in his irises. “It’s a dangerous place for a little thing like yourself,” he reminds, prowling from the path, circling around you. “Less than a mouthful for some of the creatures here.” He comes to a stop, peering down his elongated snout, “surely you aren’t naïve enough to turn down an alliance when it’s offered.”

“You’re offering protection?” You ask cautiously, gripping the pearly hilts tighter.

“How astute you are,” he croons.

Nose wrinkles with distain for the mocking tone. “What would you get out of it?” You ask, remembering the warnings you’ve been given. Teeth flash in a charming grin, “I find myself curious to what drives you through my home.” Eyes flick to your hands, no longer sparking with power. “What’s your secret?” He drawls, attention narrowing on your fingertips. “What magic do you possess that could possibly ward off the ancient creatures of the forest?”

“Why don’t you come and find out?”

Pupils narrow to slits at the challenge, instinct drawing him closer to battle, roaring for a hunt, aching for a brawl. “Daggers, and magic,” he muses, knuckles stiffening beneath your cloak—you thought they’d been concealed. “Close-quarters combat is rather gritty, don’t you find? I can’t imagine a creature like yourself enjoying picking flesh from beneath her nails.” Eyes helplessly flick to his sharp claws—seemingly clean. Swallow thickly. “What are you after?”

The smile turns vulpine, teeth flashing in the grey light. “It’s rare a new piece ascends the board. Natural to wish to inspect something so brand new.”

“I’m not a fool,” you reply calmly, fully gripping the daggers now. “Tell me what you’re really after. I’m not stupid enough to believe you’d offer protection in exchange for company, so what do you want?”

His grin doesn’t fade at the brazen accusation, instead appearing to sharpen. Prowls forward a step, stalking in on your territory. The daggers are free from your waist in an instant, pearly hilts gripped tight in your hands, the golden blades aimed for the great beast before you. “Stay there,” you demand, brandishing the weapons, fingertips sparking.

To your relief he stops in his tracks, hackles raising as they take in the gleam of your skin. “Now that piques my interest,” he drawls. “Your hands glow like the night lights. What else can they do?” He asks, thankfully remaining where he is. “Can they burn like star fire?”

Ease a breath into your lungs, understanding the exchange. “So you keep me protected, and learn about my magic?” His eyes sparkle with trickery, gleaming with guile. “For as long as you keep my interest,” he smiles, canines glittering under grey light. Pause for a while, considering. It’s unwise to enter into packs with these creatures, yet you stand little chance fighting off many of the ancient creatures.

Swallow thickly, then lower your blades. You could swear something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone before you can place it. “Fine. But you will truly protect me, and come to my aid should I need it,” you clarify, tacking on the extra details. He offers a charming smile. “Call my name, and I will come bounding,” he adds the fine particular.

Ease out a breath, then give your confirmation. Magic crackles in the air, stinging a circle around the base of the pointer finger on your left hand. A small band has appeared, inking its way in a tight loop. Peer at his own paws, spotting the darkened fur around the thumb of his right fist. The mark connecting you in a bargain.

Strangely, it doesn’t feel like he’s deceiving you. It’s not much to go off, not much to rely on. He’s probably had innumerable centuries to perfect this act, would be flawless at it by now. And yet…

And yet. It’s enough for you to believe him. Trust your gut, and it’s telling you he’s being sincere.

Strange indeed.

————

Cocoa coloured conkers hang high in the trees, peering down like giant eyeballs as you make the trek through the thick woodland.

The bizarre oddities became less and less frequent, no longer spotting strange, twinkling objects in the near distance, the sounds of other life dwindling, as if trapping you in a great glass bubble.

Days have passed, and each night he requests a show of your magic. The demonstrations are sparse, anxious not to allow him to look too closely. Whether you would like to admit it or not, he serves as perfect protection against the vast and vile malevolence that rests heavily in the dense air of the forest.

Sounds of muffled conversation float through the leaves, ears perking up. Feet ache from the long journey, a sign night should soon be coming to overlay the skies. Or at least, the time he’s picked for rest. The concept of daylight and sunrises are far off memories, kept for when the woodlands become particularly murky. Soon he’ll be requesting a new trick.

“What is that?” You ask into the silence, beginning to pick out the sounds from one another. The clinking of tea cups, the bubbling of stew, laughter tinkling like wind chimes—so alluring. Beckoning you towards the sounds. “Do you hear something?” He asks, keeping his gaze ahead. It’s mildly unsettling how a beast of his size can move with such stealth, hardly a swish of grass or a stray breeze brushing your ankles as he prowls onward.

“I find myself struggling to believe my hearing would be somehow superior to your own,” you reply, mouth quirking at its corners. His lips twitch above his canines, something you would have initially believed to be the opening movements to a snarl, yet have come understand as signs of amusement. “Tell me what you hear,” he responds instead, keeping his attention on the barely-there pathway.

Brow furrows, but you comply. “It sounds like laughter. From a few different people,” you begin slowly. “It sounds pleasant; jovial. Like they’re having fun.” Listen carefully, distinguishing the echo of metal on ceramic. “I think it’s a dinner party…” He huffs, mirth glittering in his eyes. Glance at him sidelong, scowling slightly, “do you not hear it?” Lips again twitch, some lights winking out in his gaze.

“I haven’t heard anything from this forest in centuries.”

Open your mouth to ask further, but he beats you to it. “We’ll be settling soon. Just a little further.”

“How do you know where good places to stay are?” You ask curiously, eyeing the woodland. “It all looks the same. You can’t possibly have it memorised.”

“What is memory in the face of immortality,” he muses lightly, continuing along the pathway. Feet ache with every step, as if bruises decorate your soles. Heels and toes blistering against the rough leather of the worn boots.

“There are signs, if you know where to look. Patterns of a sort,” he answers.

It takes a moment for you to remember the question, silence having settled in the meantime. Edge your way down the steep slope.

There isn’t much to do in the way of preparation, merely setting aside the small satchel you have, then selecting a root to curl against. His only rule for sleeping is you don’t light fires, so you make do with wrapping the midnight blue cloak tight around your body, and snuggling against the bark of a tree.

“What entertainment do you have planned for tonight?” He asks, settling on his stomach, paws the size of your old cooking instruments stretching before him, claws glittering beneath the stray strands of moonlight that have managed to weave their way through the wild tangle of branches. You shift in the dirt, nerves wriggling beneath the surface of your skin. The trick you’ve thought up is vague enough, but far closer to a raw demonstration than you’re truly comfortable with.

Swallowing, you move closer to him, holding your hands out before meeting his gaze. “This should really count for two nights, you know,” you grumble, palms facing toward one another, as though you were cupping a large vase. His sharp eyes twinkle with interest, snout resting atop a large paw. “Don’t disappoint me now,” he says, teeth flashing, “I might prowl off in the night.” You make a face, gradually having acclimatised to his strange menthols of communication.

Skin itches, fingertips burning faintly as they spark and glow, like frenzied embers of a fire. Soon enough, the green light evens out, no longer flickering. Ease in a deep breath, concentrating, blocking out the way your flesh tingles in response. Lines begin forming in the space between your palms, soft rays of blue-teal floating in the air. They wave gently, swaying languidly, a collection of three strains blowing in an invisible breeze.

Gradually, they increase in strength, growing taller, slimmer; becoming more refined. Compressing until they’re no thicker than leaves, glowing with the light of stars. You allow them to persist for moments longer before breaking the connection, something zapping beneath your fingertips in response, skin desiccated. “That’s all for tonight,” you say, calling his eyes to your own.

He’s silent, observing quietly as you tuck back into yourself, curling against the tree root.

“Come over here,” he calls, snagging your attention.

“What do you want?” You grumble, sighing as you get to your feet, stumbling over to him in the low light.

“Stay close tonight,” he says, eyes closed, resting his head over one of his paws. Your brows narrow, “I wasn’t planning on leaving.” Eyes pointedly flick to the dense forest, looking as unkind as ever.

A single eye cracks open, flicking up to you. Slides over to the tree, then back to you. Then he shifts, wrapping himself into a crescent shape, the kind animals do when they’re on their way to sleep. Snout nudges at your hip, pushing you into his side. Hesitantly, you follow, stepping over his hind legs, settling against the furry side of his stomach, wrapped between his front and back paws.

“This wood is riddled with magic,” he warns, tail wrapping round to meet his snout, sealing you in against his side. “It shows you what you want to see. Plays on your fears, and your hopes. Few things are real where this forest is concerned.”

“I know,” you hum, sinking into his warmth, feeling as familiar as wolf fur.

He huffs lightly, “no, you don’t.”

————

The night is thicker than usual when you wake, the clearing seeming smaller.

Shadows flick at your ankles, the darkness practically beckoning you deeper. They bring a sense of comfort, a home you yearn for, heart aching with desperation to have it.

Silently, as subtly as you can, you sneak from his form, stepping over his paw and tail, keeping your cloak wrapped tight. The cold is already seeping into your toes, but you stand fully, surveying the clearing.

Everything looks the same: the large tree with the gnarled roots, the fox-like creature that’s stilled curled in on himself, even down to the conkers high above.

Yet something’s not right. Plucking the strings of your mind, urging you to move.

Leaves rustle softly, as if disturbed by cat-soft paws, a creature slinking through the undergrowth. Thumb free the the twin daggers at your waist, gripping the pearl handles, gold gleaming dimly beneath the sparse shafts of moonlight. The air sucks at your skin, dry but heavy. Thick.

That strange feeling again washes over you, invisible hands urging you into the woods, to seek deeper. Jaws open to swallow you whole. Heartbeat increases as you step around the great beast, cloak swishing over the dirt, dragging reluctantly as you make your way to the edge of the clearing, peering deep into the forest.

A shadow shifts in the distance, slinking behind a sturdy trunk. Blood thrums in your ears, shadows gathering behind your legs, lulling you into compliance. Peer over your shoulder at the great creature, the band around your second finger itching. He’ll come for you should you encounter trouble. The bargain proves that much.

Inhale a deep breath, straying from the path.

Swallowed by darkness.

Blink warily, feet moving on their own as you step further and further in, digested within the all-consuming darkness. Vision fades in and out, things turning soft at the edges, feeling like you’re dying.

You push on, moving heavily through the forest, abandoning coveted safety for shadows in the night. Noises soothe your ears, reassuring you of your path.

Skin prickles with the weight of a pair of eyes, having you resurface from the haze. In a part you don’t recognise, moved almost unconsciously through the damp undergrowth. No conkers line the trees, and even your eyes struggle in the darkness. Insects crawl under foot, spiders scuttling between the cracks in tree bark, lurking in tiny, unreachable crevices.

Swallow thickly as you turn around, not recognising a thing.

Shadows skitter at your back, and your whirl on your feet, daggers out, their golden blades piercing the darkness.

Breath catches as a shadow emerges from the darkness, heavier than the rest. Begins to take shape, morphing into four, greatly powerful paws, midnight fur thick and silky. Leading up to create the tremendous torso of the beast, corded with muscle, fully grown and thrumming with lethal, sinister power. Leathery wings flare from its back, each peak tipped with a single talon, sharper than any blade you’ve seen. His head is smooth and elegant, distinctly feline, with piercing fangs pushing from his upper lip.

Hazel eyes stare back at you.

Seconds pass, lungs fluttering. Fingers tremble at the pearly hilts of his blades, shaking as you stare longer. Darkness lines his body, alive with tightly coiled tension, the epitome of virulent grace. Wreathed with devastating malignancy.

Vision blurs, weapons thudding dully as they fall from your hands. Take a shaky step forward, then another. Stumbling until you reach him.

Arms wrap up around his neck, tears spilling as you hear the steady beat of his heart. Feel it drumming out its rhythm onto your cheek as you press into his fur, crying heavily as his scent wraps around you. The crisp freshness of nightfall, followed by crystal clear clarity.

He’s here.

Before you.

Bury deeper into him, cloak almost blending you into his fur as his head lowers over your shoulder, soothing the quiet sobs that wrack your chest. Wings fold in tight, inhaling your scent, taking in the familiarity of it— “What is that?”

His question pulls you from your fall, stepping back to peer up into his eyes, so deep you could lose your mind trying to follow to their centre. “What?” You ask, hands resting where his front paws meet his torso, shoulders corded with muscle, unable to fully detach from him.

Nostrils flare, inhaling deeply, nosing at your throat, lowering down your front, lightly nudging at your stomach. Enough you have to yield a step, fingers cooling without his fur to warm you. “You smell of fox,” he says, tersely. Flush beneath his attention, unaccustomed to its piercing weight, looking elsewhere as dry fingers wring together.

“I met one,” you answer quietly, skimming the band on your pointer finger. “He’s kept me safe. So I could come find you.” Something flashes through his eyes as he stares down at you. Shift on your feet, anxiously. “He’s helped.”

The beast recoils slightly, taking a step back.

Attention snaps to him, locking with marginally widened eyes. Then they narrow, staring down at you. “This is your task,” he says, coldly, “you’re supposed to complete it on your own.” Peer up at him, taking a step forward, hands raising from your sides. He stiffens, but doesn’t move back. “I am,” you say desperately, “he’s just company. He’s not— I am doing this on my own.”

Shakes his head. “This is your journey,” he mutters, “not his.”

Vision tilts suddenly, a searing pain lacerating through your mind, as if someone’s taken a scalpel to your brain. Breathing becomes heavier as you press your fingers to your temples, colours blurring in and out, even as time passes in this state of unconscious.

“Foxes are dangerous,” he reminds gruffly. “They eat things like you. You mustn’t trust him.” Shake your head in denial, desiccated skin rasping as you wring your fingers together. “Not this one,” you try, peering up at him. “We have a deal. He can’t hurt me.” Hold up your left hand for him to see, ink clear despite the thick darkness that surrounds the two of you.

Hazel flecks with disgust, picking out the brand upon your index finger. “You bargained with that beast?” He hisses, backing up a step. Pain stings through your heart, guilt twisting in your gut. “No, you don’t understand. He offered me protection,” you manage, scared if you take another step forward, he’ll vanish out of repulsion. Leave you alone in the depths of the wood.

Alone and astray.

Lost.

Opens his mouth, but pain splits through your eyes, singeing flesh, charring skin. The forest presses in on you, crushing your mind beneath its cloying pressure. Time jerks forward, splitting you further from him, the small gap between you stretching to something painful.

You blindly stumble forward, hands outstretched as he’s pulled away, kept just out of reach of your desperate palms. Mud seeps into your boots, slippery cold freezing your toes, dirtying the midnight blue of your cloak. Tears spill as your heart spikes, unable to do anything but continue tripping over yourself in your haste to catch up to him.

The world flips, momentarily slipping out from under you as it switches with the sky, vision flickering in and out. The world grows fainter, like you’re being forcefully ripped away from something.

Pain stings deeper, striking at the soft, tender chambers of your heart.

Hazel eyes grow wide, pupils contracting as—

Lips part in a silent groan of pain, a metallic smell bursting across your conscious.

Green light flares, searing through the darkness, blazing from your hands as screams tear through the heavy blanket of night.

You stare down at your body, up from high in a tree, suspended from a branch above. The beasts lies still on the floor, skin steadily cooling. Silky black fur dampens upon the forest ground, breath rattling from his maw, wet rasping, gurgling in the night. Hands grasp and prod, fingers splaying in attempts to keep him together as he drains away in your lap.

The world flickers again, flashing in and out of sense until you’re slammed back into your body.

Skin feels sticky, hands cold and damp.

Images spark in and out of existence, surroundings dancing about you in a blurry taunt. A few stick out: a grassy slope, mist thick up the steep hill, the rocky face so sheer you’re forced to hands and knees to make the climb.

A clearing wreathed in web, moonlight spearing through the leaves, tiny blue spiders dripping from the canopy, fluttering along an invisible breeze.

A looming gate, constructed of bone, oozing malice, contained within the claws of something ancient and wicked.

Flashing over and over again: steep hill, swollen blue abdomen, brittle grey bone.

Lifeless hazel.

————

Sweat gleams, jerking from the night terror.

Lilac cotton slicked to sallow skin, soaked in cold dampness.

Silky hair cascades over shoulders, falling in rattails from terror.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

#Azriel #azriel x reader #Azriel angst #CBMTHY #CBMTWY #Halloween #Halloween special #Azriel x reader angst #acotar #acotar au #CBMTHY au (kinda)#Alice in wonderland #the hobbit #🌌🌠

252 notes · View notes

shitpostingkats · 8 months

Text

We need to acknowledge that Yugo spends almost the entirety of arc-v just skipping around between dimensions with no control over where he ends up. Reminder that Yugo is re-introduced to the plot like four times by just poofing into being, usually on a motorcycle, typically in places where a motorcycle should not be. Reminder that Yugo is a cryptid who, upon to being questioned on how he miraculously showed up on a heavily guarded island in the middle of the ocean, refers to being transported there by magical artifacts beyond his ken as "the usual"

What I'm saying is Yugo randomly popping out of shrubbery and dumpters with exactly zero idea how he got there is 100% true to canon and should be utilized in fanworks more often.

#yugo is the brother who leaves the party and when you text him the next day he's somehow in Jamaica #you leave him alone for five seconds and next thing you know everyones gotta go down to the precinct and pick him up #because he was found wandering around the third story of city hall #yugo is a 'things just happen to him' himbo #this may be an established fanon idk I've read like one fic with Yugo in it #but if its not already it SHOULD BE #spk watches arc v #yugioh #yugioh arc v #ygo arc v #yugo arc v

254 notes · View notes

hauntedhokage · 2 years

Text

Pollen Count

Kakashi Hatake/F!Reader

Summary: While on a mission to deliver documents, you and Kakashi stop for the night in a place where you probably shouldn’t. Something in the air didn’t feel quite right, despite everything else feeling perfect. Cross posted to AO3

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: sex pollen, dub!con, f!receiving oral, blindfolds, fingering, unprotected sex, outdoor sex

Note: I was struck by Kakashi brain rot during my Naruto re-watch.

It was supposed to be a simple delivery task. There was a chance of enemy ninja, which made it not quite so simple as just delivering a couple pieces of paper. The nature of the documents required that two jounin be sent to take care of it. You didn’t know who the other jounin was, Tsunade said she had to do some reorganization of some squads to get you the backup you’d need since this document was now top priority over a couple reconnaissance and recovery missions.

It wasn’t your job to know what was in it that made it so important, but you were very interested in who your partner would be. Hopefully entertaining but at the very least could keep up conversation. It was a long journey to the Hidden Sand, to spend it in silence felt like a fate worse than death. Team compatibility could be what made the difference between a mission’s success and failure, after all.

“Oh, sorry I’m late.”

Kakashi? Oh this was going to be interesting, indeed.

“Helping an elderly woman with her shopping? At dawn?” you take your guess as his excuse, smile on your face as he rubs the back of his neck.

“Sure, let’s go with that. You have the cargo?”

You only pat your vest where the scroll was contained, and he nods before he suggests that you get going. And so you set out, being sure to act as casual as two shinobi heading out on a mission could. Nobody knew about the scroll, so it was imperative that you not act like you had anything that anybody else would want to see.

“We should probably think about camping somewhere or finding an inn to stay at for the night,” Kakashi suggests as the sun begins to set, and you nod before stopping to stand on a tree branch. “Which would you prefer?”

“Let’s get back on the road, and if we can’t find an inn by nightfall then we can set up camp.” At this time of year, it’d be dark in about forty-five minutes. Time wasn’t on your side if your hope was to sleep on a surface softer than your bedroll on the grass. Though there might have been an inn nearby, but you weren’t confident that you hadn’t passed it already due to how fast you and Kakashi had been moving.

For all your hoping, you’d been proven correct in your assumption that’d you’d passed the inn you’d been thinking of and that left you only moderately deflated as you turned off the main road with Kakashi to find a suitable campsite. Off the beaten path but flat was the goal, and you look through some tall shrubbery and smile when you see a clearing. It was really quite the scene with healthy grass, some flowers, and the river wasn’t too far away. The trees provided ample coverage, too, so it really did feel quite secluded. There was something in the air, too, something that put you at ease. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but you also knew that you needed to stay on your guard while on a mission even if the environment told you otherwise. Something about deception and things being too good to be true.

Kakashi offers to take the first watch, and you tuck yourself into your sleeping bag with hopes of getting some rest. Only it’s too warm, so you remove yourself from within the sleeping bag to instead lay on it in hopes that it’d be more comfortable. Only now it’s your vest that feels too heavy, so you sit up to remove it and take a moment to roll your shoulders. Kakashi was here, you were safe to lose that protective padding to get some sleep if that’s what it took.

“Are you alright?” He asks from his perch in the tree, and you look up to see that he’d been watching you. “You seem uncomfortable down there.”

“Does it feel hot to you, Kakashi?” you ask, almost tempted to pull your shirt off but knowing that wasn’t the wisest move you could make. But it was so hot and starting to rub you the wrong way so it needed to go. Sooner rather than later. “It’s so hot out here.”

“It’s a bit warm, yeah, but I’ve been trying to tune it out.” He’s kneeling in front of you now, pressing his wrist to your forehead. You can’t see the frown, but you hear it when he sighs before he tells you that you’re running a fever. “You’re just hot, though? Not nauseous or anything else?”

“I honestly felt fine until just now when I was trying to lay down.” But you’re acutely aware of the fact that he’s still got his wrist pressed to your forehead, and now there’s his other hand on your shoulder and contributing to the heat you felt. “But now I’m just hot, and my clothes feel wrong.”

“Does it feel heavy?”

“Kinda, just rubbing me the wrong way, y’know?”

“Yeah.” So he was feeling it too, and that both relieves you and horrifies you at the same time. What if your perfect campsite was just a massive trap? That’d be just fantastic if all this was your fault. “It’s not a genjutsu, and there are no chakra signatures anywhere near us either. It’s almost like there’s something in the air.”

Something in the air? That was what you had felt earlier, but that something wasn’t making you hot. Kakashi’s hands on you were not helping, but instead were contributing to a different type of heat in your core that was not easy to ignore either. Where was the light and easy feeling that you’d had previously? Where did that go?

“I have to get out of these clothes, Kakashi.” You hope you sound calm, like you know what you’re doing, but you couldn’t even really think straight.

“We have to get out of here, we’ll deal with our symptoms once we’re out of the hot zone.”

“I am the hot zone right now!”

“And we need to figure that out, but losing your cool is not going to help. We’re not going to go far, there’s another clearing nearby and I think we should be okay there. Let’s gather our things and move.” The instruction is clear and, despite how awful your clothes felt against your skin, you follow them without question. By the time you’ve settled in the new campsite you can’t stop yourself, taking your shirt off with your vest and laying back against the cool grass in hopes that it’ll help you relax - even just a little bit.

The air felt different here, sure, but you still felt too hot. A look to your left tells you that Kakashi was feeling the heat too, since he’d removed his vest and was trying to fan cool air onto his skin. There was another more obvious problem just south of the hem of his shirt, but you avert your gaze from your partner to keep from potentially making him uncomfortable.

“Doing okay?” he asks, and you shake your head since you were still feeling too hot even with your shirt being off and cool air hitting your skin.

“Still too hot, but I’m running out of layers,” you mumble, jumping nearly out of your skin when you feel his hand on your stomach. How he got there that fast was not a question you’d waste time on, since the man did train with Gai. What was more pressing was the physical contact he’d initiated, all he really needed to do was move that hand just a bit further south and you were certain that’d either fix everything and make the problem worse - but such was the shinobi way of life. “That’s not helping.”

“I thought not,” he mumbled, and you chance looking up at him only to feel yourself get so much warmer when you see him looking down at you. There’s something unfamiliar in his eye, and that has you equal parts excited and concerned at what that look could mean. “The air is different here, so we must have inhaled something back there.”

How was he still so functional? You couldn’t give a damn about what could have you feeling this way, there were more pressing matters such as your body feeling like it was on fire and the growing discomfort with how wet your underwear was getting.

“Please stop talking,” you whine, your hand grabbing his wrist. His pulse is racing beneath his skin, his thumb starting to move against your skin until you let out another whine at the contact. “But keep touching me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Only if you want to.”

He shakes his head, and you’re not sure what it is he’s trying to convey but you err on the safe side and release his wrist. You’re ready to sit yourself up, go hide behind a tree so you could rub this out and get it over with, but his hand stays firm on your stomach to keep you in place as he leans in to get close to your ear.

“We shouldn’t do this, but I can’t pull myself away from you when I’m like this and you’re so willing.”

If he wasn’t wearing that mask, you’d kiss him right now. But he is, and that brings you to let him go so you could move the placement of your headband so it’d cover your eyes. Kakashi had to be uncomfortable in the mask, this was how you could ensure that he could be more comfortable while you both were dealing with the side effects of whatever the hell you’d breathed in. You hear him sigh before his hand leaves your stomach, and you pick up on the rustling of his clothes before his mouth is on yours and his hand is pushing at the waistband of your pants. Your hand starts to move, but is quickly pinned into the grass by Kakashi’s other hand as he moves to straddle you.

“Please behave, I’m struggling to contain myself as it is.” The warning has you nodding, but your hips move of their own volition in an attempt to get some friction where you most need it. He pauses above you, then his hands are gone from you only to work at pulling your pants and underwear down.

Your mouth falls open when his fingers push between your folds, the fire burning inside sated by the contact that has you relaxing into the grass. You hadn’t realized just how large Kakashi’s hands were until he had two fingers inside of you working to stretch you open more, and you knew you’d be fixated on those hands long after this situation was over and dealt with. A bridge to be crossed later, if you remembered after all this was over and done with.

A forearm is pressed to your hip, those two fingers part your folds, and you sigh when his tongue slides through to lap at your essence while his thumb circles your already over-sensitive clit. Another orgasm comes and goes before you can process it, your hands moving to his hair to try and pull him away. Instead, his other hand comes to replace his tongue, two fingers pushing into your cunt easily while his thumb continues to play with your clit.

“Are you going to come already?” He sounds amused, but you can’t formulate the words that you need to tell him off or tell him that he was right. “You can come, it’s alright. Let me taste you.”

You’re going to blame your current state on the fact that you were able to come just by him telling you to, that truly had to be it. But he sounds pleased and you’re ready to cry when he continues to lick and suck at your quivering pussy until you’re practically begging him to pull back and fuck you proper. You just needed him to fill you now, fill you and keep you full and fuck the neediness out of you.

“Ask and you shall receive.” There’s more rustling, and you wish you could see what he was doing and how he was looking at you but the headband remains in place to keep your vision obscured.

The blunt tip of his cock coming to rest between your folds has your eyes closing behind the headband, your fingers digging into the soft soil beneath you as he presses forward and stretches you. There’s no time or consideration for adjustments, you’d wager that Kakashi’s patience has worn out given the situation, and you’re not complaining since this is what you needed.

“Just stay put,” he breathes into your ear, his hand taking yours and pressing it into the grass beside your head. He’s still moving his hips against yours even as he speaks, the heat and desperation radiating off of him in waves as he presses a kiss to your cheek before he gently bites at your jawline. “Stay put and let me take care of us, will you do that?”

You nod, your compliance earning you another kiss before he’s pulling out. Before you have the chance to complain, he’s turning you over and pulling your hips up so you’d be propped up on your knees in front of him before he’s pushing back into you. There was no gentleness, no careful consideration of the environment, this was Kakashi on a mission to get you both off and hopefully stop whatever had gotten you both so worked up. His hands grip your hips hard enough that you’re certain there would be ten little bruises decorating your skin later, and he muffles his own sounds of pleasure by biting into your shoulder, it hurts but in the best way possible as he fucks into you at a pace you could only describe as being brutal. There was no rhythm or thought to it, he needed to get off as badly as you did.

“You feel so good, y’know that?” he breathes into your ear, every other word punctuated by a grunt that has you weaker than the one before. There’s a new heat burning inside you, this one you knew how to cope with, and you move your hand so that you could rub at your clit only to hand Kakashi grab your hand and press it back into the ground. “I said stay put and let me take care of you. You need to come?”

You nod, your head falling forward into the grass when his fingers make contact with your clit. At this point you think your body may be too sensitive, and that has you arching back into him at the feeling of the rough pads of his fingers against the nerve bundle.

“Stop running from me.”

“Sensitive,” is all you can gasp out, fingers digging into the grass once again as Kakashi chuckles in your ear. “Please, I’m so close Kakashi.”

This time you stay put when his fingers graze your clit, and you feel all coherent thoughts leave you as your body continues to rock with his as his fingers begin rubbing quick circles while his thrusts increase in pace. All that mattered was him and your approaching orgasm, anything else would have to wait until you could breathe normally again. A thrust punctuated by a pinch to your clit has your body going rigid beneath his, and he’s talking you through the orgasm until his own hips stutter and he also stills.

An arm moves around your waist, bringing you with him when he moves to lay on his side. The headband is moved but you keep your eyes closed even though your back was to him, not wanting to chance seeing his face. Things felt a bit more clear, but now you weren’t sure where the source of the heat was coming from now - the unknown inhalant or the close proximity to Kakashi. The grass was helping, though, which told you it was likely Kakashi making you feel so warm.

“Feeling better?”

“Yeah, a bit,” you whisper, staying on your side while he lies on his back. “How come you were so functional? We were both exposed for the same amount of time?”

“My mask must have acted as a filter. I had it off to eat, though, which was likely where I got truly exposed.” You’re quiet after that, really trying to think about it but your critical thinking still wasn’t truly there. You’d give yourself a headache if you tried, you were sure, so you choose not to think about it for now. “Well I’m going to keep watch, you need your rest if we’re going to continue the mission.”

“What if it’s not fully out of our systems? Shouldn’t we go back to the village for treatment?” You’re sitting up now, still looking away since you weren’t sure if it was safe to look at him yet, but the cold air on your back does feel nice.

“I think we’ve established that we’re pretty decent at dealing with the side effects, no need to delay by going back to the village if we can handle it ourselves.” That has you looking at him, not at all caring about whether he was masked or not. He didn’t truly mean he’d fuck you all the way to the Sand Village if that was necessary, did he? “I think that’s the fun part, don’t you?”

This man was going to be the death of you, you were certain of that.

#kakashi hatake/reader #kakashi hatake/you #kakashi hatake/f!reader #kakashi hatake smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi x reader smut #kakashi smut #kakashi x you #kakashi x f!reader #kakashi x y/n

2K notes · View notes