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#and i wish i had talked to them more because they seemed so nice
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yandere bunny hybrid x reader
A/n: the Intro was rushed because I got too excited to write the smut. Not proofread 🌺
Tw: noncon turns to dubcon, androgynous breeding kink, little dirty talk, he's a horny bastard. Mommy kink but it can be applied to any gender. Slapping body parts, he has a minor lactation kink. Mdni please!
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★you met the little furball while you were out on a evening walk. It was the middle of winter and being cooped up inside the house all day was starting to get a little claustrophobic
★you didn't notice him at first since he blended in with the snow. Stopping mid-walk when you heard a weak little whine coming from behind you. Slowly turning around, you saw a pair of red eyes staring at you from beneath the snow
★approaching them slowly, you could finally see him more clearly. Milky white skin turning a light blue due to hypothermia. He didn't have the strength to run when you picked him up. Patting his head, you headed back home.
★giving him a warm bath and setting him next to the fireplace, you slowly nursed him back to health. He was very reluctant at first, but your touch was too comforting to pull away from. He hasn't felt this safe since he was just a baby bun! He stayed with you nearly the entire winter
★midway he starts to get himself familiar with your home, peeking under furniture and into rooms, he seemed to understand you when you'd ask him questions in English
"what's your name little fella?"
"cotton.."
★eventually you had to let him go back into the wild, just a month before spring arrived. He was reluctant but with enough convincing he finally left. Looking back at you from the forest edge, watching you wave goodbye with that beautiful smile he loves
❣️cotton who goes into heat early because he can't stop thinking of you. Burrying himself in his burrow, humping the air. Nothing is as soft as you and your bed. Nothing can make him feel as safe as your touch does
❣️he shoos any females who wish to mate away. Claiming he already has a mate. Oh he wished you'd come into the forest looking for him, to take care of him again as he fills your tight little hole up with his cum
❣️he spends most of his time shamelessly masturbating to the thought of you. His entire heat cycle has been on loop since he left, so finally gathering the balls he heads back to your cottage. Watching you from a distance, lazily stroking his already sensitive cock.
★just minding your business, you don't notice the certain bunny hybrid approaching slowly. You don't have much time to react before a familiar mop of white hair tackles you to the ground. Desperately humping your clothed sex as he whines and grunts.
"cotton!? What the hell are you doing!?"
"hah- nhg need.. mate.. pretty mate.. need to breed! Ohh!"
★you tried pushing him off, but when did he get so strong!? Pining your arms down and ripping your clothes off, wasting no time in lapping at your genitals. Eating you out like a starved man, sucking and nipping your inner thighs until he's sure you're nice and lubed up
★he carefully pressed the tip in, but he doesn't last long as he slowly sinks deeper into your gummy walls. Letting go of your arms and roughly grabbing your hips, which were sure to bruise later, brutally fucking your brains out. Slapping your chest and privates as he grinds his cock deeper
★he keeps going even after he's ripped multiple orgasms out of you. The pleasure slowly chipping off your resistance. Leaving you a blubbering moaning mess under the bunny. A pool of his cum under where your sexes kept meeting.
★it doesn't matter what gender you are, he's determined to breed you until you're swelling with his children. He couldn't wait to suck and bite your chest once it was swollen with milk!
"gonna be so pretty- mph! So pretty, all swollen 'n fat with my babies.. gonna be a good mate, right? G-gonna give me lots of 'em right? Oh ohhh! Cumming again! 'Yer squeezing all my cum out! Mommy!!"
★let's just say that you should get use to your new roommate husband, because now there's no way of getting rid of him. Ever.
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undercoverpena · 3 days
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7. honey cream
frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself
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summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.
wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.
prev chapter | series masterlist
key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics
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Nice forearm in your story.
Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.
Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.
I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.
You’re hilarious.
I try to be.
You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?
That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.
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Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.
Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?
I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.
They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.
I bet they look great on your ass.
Everything looks great on my ass.
Including my hand.
Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.
I can’t wait to see you.
Drive safely, Butterscotch.
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“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”
Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.
When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.
He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.
It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.
“Don’t—I want to be here.”
“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”
Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.
Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.
“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”
“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”
Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"
You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”
He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.
The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.
You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —
“Race you to the end of the wall?”
Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.
Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.
In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.
Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.
“We did good, didn't we?”
You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”
Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.
“Thank you. For helping me.”
“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”
Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.
But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.
“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”
“You don’t have to…”
Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.
“You cooking for me?”
“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”
He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.
“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.
Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.
Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.
A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.
“Can I do anything?”
Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”
And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.
“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.
“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”
His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.
When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”
You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”
He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.
As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.
But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.
Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.
“So, how often do you have Luca?”
Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”
Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.
“Does that… bother you?”
“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”
Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”
Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”
“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”
Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”
Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.
“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.
“Yeah?”
Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”
Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”
“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.
You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.
His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.
You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.
“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”
His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."
And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”
Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.
“My friends… they want to meet you.”
His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.
As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.
Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—
“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”
Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—
Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—
Until he says your name.
Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.
“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.
Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.
Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.
Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.
“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”
Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”
Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”
“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”
“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”
“When?”
He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”
“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.
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I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?
It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.
Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.
Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.
A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.
The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?
Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.
It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.
A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.
As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.
Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.
Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:
Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.
With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.
Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.
Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.
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As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.
The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.
It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.
You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.
Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.
“You look nice.”
Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”
“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”
Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”
“Smooth talker.”
The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.
As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.
No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.
Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.
As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.
By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.
“So, where will your friends be?”
Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”
Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.
“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”
“His other non-official, less present trainer.”
“You slacker.”
Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”
Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.
“I’m glad you came.”
“Because you missed me?”
His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”
Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.
“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”
Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”
Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”
“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.
Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.
Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”
The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.
It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.
“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”
“Does Harold like them?”
Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”
“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”
Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”
“Okay.”
Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.
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I think they like me.
Are you texting me from the bathroom?
Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.
Baby, are you peeing and texting me?
No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.
So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.
Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?
Don’t answer I can see it.
Shut up.
If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.
Basta!
You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.
Come back and keep me company.
Grin a bit more and I might.
Rainy.
Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.
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NEXT CHAPTER ->
an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)
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sarnai4 · 3 days
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Opening Up
About opening up...Dagur kinda doesn't. (Spoilers ahead)
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This is something I've seen some fans talk about where they say Dagur would reveal personal information easily. I see where they're coming from with this. Looking at Dagur, I'd expect that too. He's outspoken, emotional, unrestrained, etc. He seems like someone who could randomly say, "I had a good cry today," and it wouldn't be anything surprising. HOWEVER, that changes for me when I look at the proof from the show. If Dagur was half as open about things as this would imply, then we wouldn't be forced to speculate so much about his past and the things that have happened to him. In another case of me spending too much time studying Dragons (probably. Still worth it), I tried to collect all the examples of Dagur sharing information. They have something in common. Each time, there's a specific reason. I'll go in chronological order.
In "Enemy of My Enemy," Dagur tells Hiccup how revenge can make you do things you didn't think you were capable. This was an interesting moment of really getting to see how the villain we saw Dagur be wasn't who he always was. It even shocked him how extreme his actions became. This has the potential to be some heavy stuff, but he didn't just outright say it for fun. He said it because he saw Hiccup going down that same path. This isn't, "I can't believe the things I've done and really need someone to talk to." It's, "I see you following in my footsteps and they led me in a terrible direction. I don't want that for you."
It takes Dagur F.O.R.E.V.E.R. to admit he didn't kill Oswald. Even as a good guy, he doesn't say it easily. In "Family on the Edge," he implies that something Heather said out of the sent her adrift, killed their dad, and tried to kill them list wasn't true, but he doesn't just say it. He writes it in the letter, admitting that and how he was worried that the other Berserkers wouldn't follow him otherwise. If he wanted to do it for emotional release reasons, he could've just said the first time or even told her way back when he thought they were on the same side. Rather than that, he puts it in a letter so that her final relative won't be quite as bad as she thinks he is.
In "Searching for Oswald...And Chicken," Dagur has two moments. First, he tells Heather how he's spent most of his life in varying stages of existential crisis. (Just wow for that. Wish we had heard more about it because that is quite the emotional load he nonchalantly dropped) Again, this clearly isn't to get something off his chest because it's not even something he brings up again. He just tells her so that she'll have proof he knows what is meaningless, hopefully getting her to stop throwing herself in harm's way to find Oswald. Later, he tells Hiccup he keeps anger, frustration, and rage to himself. This also isn't to share so much as to prove he can keep secrets and deserves to be trusted with the location of Vanaheim.
Then, we have "In Plain Sight." There, we find out he used to get bullied. He waited until as much of the last moment as possible to tell Fishlegs and Snotlout this. They had already flown from the Edge to Berserker Island and were literally walking down to meet Ansson. So, I don't think it's him wanting to share sensitive information. It's him knowing they're about to be there with the bully and since Ansson doesn't care about playing nice, it's going to be obvious that he used to bully him. This is just softening the blow a little by telling them first. Didn't really help, though, since they still laughed at him being called "Dainty." (Not cool even though I get how weird it would be to hear someone call him that)
Unless I'm mistaken, that's everything. I don't think there's another time when Dagur reveals something personal. Each of these had some deeper purpose. This is why I don't believe Dagur would start speaking about his past traumas without a prompt. Now, I'll say I do enjoy having him talk about this in stories and I support other writers who do. I just believe it takes a little nudge. He's not going to sit down next to someone and talk about his time in jail. He has literally never spoken about his time in jail in the entire show except the first RTTE episode to say that he spent 3 years thinking about Hiccup. So, it actually leaves a lot of room to be creative with what his past even has first, then what situation would get him to spill the beans.
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dailycupofcreativitea · 15 hours
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AHHHHH you're playing kingdom hearts? Please report back with your thoughts when you feel up to it it's my special interest 👀
Okay here are some thoughts I've spammed to my friends in the last few days! (BTW I read the manga already for the first game so I basically spoiled it but I was still equally as shocked when these things happened in the game lol)
By the way, spoilers below for anyone who hasn't played!
General thoughts:
SORA IS SOOOOOOOOOO CUTE 🥺 The voice actor voiced him PERFECTLY, he's exactly the perfect combination of hopeful, friendship, little kid, strong heart, over confident at times, stubborn, sweet. 😭💖
Told a friend I love Sora in a different way than I love Gohan, here were my thoughts: Gohan is more quiet, sweet, gentle, burdened with a lot of power that he seems hesitant to use and slowly builds his confidence throughout the show, I relate to Gohan a lot, sweet cinnamon roll that must be protecc, but forced to protecc others, etc etc Sora is sweet and gentle but loud, has a HUGE heart and he uses it to protect his friends with 100% confidence (he's more like Goku in that way), his heart is just unwavering and he doesn't seem to doubt himself often (at least in KH1), funny and goofy and his stubbornness can get him into trouble sometimes but his bonds with his friends give him strength, I don't relate to him but I would love to draw inspiration from him
"Shonen protagonist done by Disney" vibes (as put aptly by @genisflyingkites)
Riku is so insanely jealous of Sora it's hilarious, he's overall kind of a jerk and even Kairi said she wanted to leave the island without him, but also Riku is 15 and hormonal and Maleficent got to him so I don't really blame him for it
Donald and Goofy are way less annoying than I assumed they would be, I like that they seem refreshingly mature?? Donald is stubborn and beefs with Sora a lot and Goofy seems like he has a good head on his shoulders and is a deep thinker
Also I keep seeing memes of Donald constantly getting knocked out in game and being useless but for me Donald ALWAYS comes in clutch with the elixirs and ethers
That scene where Maleficent tells Riku that Sora replaced him and Kairi with Donald and Goofy was sad in both the manga and the game but what REALLY made my jaw drop was that SORA LOWKEY FELT THE SAME:
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(Yes he was fighting with Donald at the time too but LOOK AT HIS FACE!!! 😭🙏)
If Riku talked to Sora for more than 10 seconds at a time literally all of this would be resolved XD LIKE!! Sora is literally trying to find them! Riku please!
This scene had my sister and I's JAWS ON THE FLOOR:
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It was low blow after low blow! I read this in the manga too but somehow it hit harder in the game!
Hollow Bastion is a great OST and I've been listening to it on repeat. The map is also pretty nice but I wish I could explore more without heartless appearing every 5 seconds
Actually I also liked the OST "A Day in Agrabah"
I beat Riku's ass in 10 seconds and it was glorious (Ansem is a whole other story...still working on it)
DID I MENTION SORA HAS SUCH A KIND AND SWEET AND STRONG HEART!?
Every single cutscene had the words "light" "darkness" "friendship" "heart" "memories" repeated over and over again to form a cutscene (I saw this in a Youtube video and thought it was incredibly accurate XD)
My sister and I were CRACKING UP during this cutscene because it made NO SENSE
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It just kept getting more and more non-sensical XD
I think Aladdin was my favourite world so far but tbh they were all pretty cool (Sora's Halloween Town fit was so cute! Also I loved flying around by Big Ben, and then getting the glide feature)
The Maleficent Dragon boss was really hard, cool, and fun; Tinker Bell really came in clutch
Also I gotta say this game is really hard to play because the control are so annoying, the jump function is annoying (I keep falling off and misjudging his jump), it keep glitching cause it's connected to the cloud or something, the directions are too vague so I have to follow a walkthrough while playing, and I have to keep stopping between plays because I get motion sickness from the wildly spinning camera really easily -- despite all that I am indeed having a blast
I think that's all my thoughts for now :3
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cwritesforfun · 1 day
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The Bear: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x Fem!Reader: You're the light in the dark
Part One is linked here!!!
**TW: Anxiety & Anxiety Attack (YES, the plot has changed.) Y/N = Your Name
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Y/N's POV
Things have been better for you mentally in the last two weeks. You wouldn't say you were fully happy, but you were calm and that was better than constant anxiety attacks. Graduate school and work were still stressful, but they were manageable now. Sydney apologized when you returned to work for giving Carmy your address and wouldn't tell you why she gave it so freely. She seemed nervous about whatever it was. You had to reassure her that it was fine because it was nice to see Carmy and he brought dessert.
It's another Friday and service is almost done. Tonight has ran smoothly out front and customers seem pleased.
Richie walks up and says, "Hey, uh Faz is going to sub in for you and you need to go to Carmy's office right now." You ask, "Why?" He answers, "None of your business, kidding. I’m kidding. Carmy ... he uh ... he asked for you. He's really anxious and angry and irritating. No one can be around him right now and he said you were a calming presence. I need you to mediate in this situation.” You reply, "Ok. I'll go right now."
You walk to the back and to Carmy's office where the door is open. You see Carmy sitting where you were just a few weeks ago and you close the door gently behind you. You sit on the floor in front of him and say, "Hey Carmy, I heard you asked for me. I'm here. I don't know if you need someone to talk to or a hug, but uh those both usually help me with my anxiety." He looks up and you see his tear-rimmed eyes staring at you. He says, "Tonight has been really hard for me. I've always had a rocky relationship with my family and it gets hard sometimes. I also tried to go to Alcoholics Anonymous because I use drinking to cope and I want to try something healthier. Sydney can be very serious and stuck in her ways sometimes and when I corrected her, she refused to listen. And some of the other staff just watched. I don't want them to think that openly refusing to listen to me is okay. I also snapped when some of them were just stacking dishes in a way that we used to do before we were more serious as a restaurant. I just can't take it when no one listens... except you. You're there and you listen. You're the light in the darkness of my mind." Oh??? You reach out to put your hand on his and he intertwines your fingers as you reply, "I ... I'm glad I can be the light for you. You mentioned wanting to do something healthy to cope with your anxiety. Are you free on Sunday to walk in that park by my place?" He answers, "Yeah." You reply, "Great, I’m completely free on Sunday. So what time works best for you?" He answers, "Um we can do 11 am." You reply, "Great, it's a date... I mean ... that is not what I meant not that it would be bad but I'm going to change the conversation now... And as far as tonight at work, you should go back and tell everyone that you want to have a quick five minute talk with all of them at the end of service. I can get some paper and we can draft what you can say to them. We'll make sure you come off as the leader and as someone willing to listen to new ideas. This should cut the tension in the kitchen and give you some relief." He replies, "Shit, maybe you should be the manager." You laugh and reply, "No I don't think I should, but I am studying management right now and I do know how volatile this restaurant can be at times. I know you're all very stressed in the kitchen and want to make the best dish for your customers that you sometimes forget how to fully communicate with each other. I understand that." He says, "I wish the rest of them were as understanding as you." You reply, "Thanks, but I'm not a perfect employee. I know that. I can always improve... so do you have pen and paper in here?" He laughs and gets some off his desk. You help him draft something to tell the staff and it sounds good if you say so. Your professors would be proud of you. Carmy asks if you can be near him when he gives them the talk in case he needs a mediator to which you agree.
You return to work and finish the shift smoothly.
All the staff file into the restaurant and are sitting facing Carmy. Carmy glances at you and you nod at him before he starts speaking, "Hey everyone, I understand that sometimes things can get tense at work and I want to apologize for my part in that. I realize that I may have overreacted in the past and I am sorry for taking it out on all of you. Going forward, I will make an effort to respond to situations differently. As part of my commitment to being a better boss, I want to ensure that everyone has a voice. If I ask you to do something a certain way and it doesn't work for you, please let me know. I want to be open to feedback and ensure that everyone feels heard. Does that sound okay to all of you?" I look around and notice everyone nodding. They all look proud and like they respect him for what he said. I'm glad it worked. Carmy exclaims, "OK, everyone can go back to what they were doing before and I hope you all get a good night's rest for tomorrow." Everyone gets up and starts chatting amongst themselves.
You stand up and say, "Chef, I think you did really well." Carmy asks, "Do you think they'll listen?" You nod and answer, "I do. Do you feel any better now that this conversation happened?" He answers, "Yes. It makes it feel like there was a weight taken off of my chest." Richie walks up and says, "May I ask, is this what you two were doing in the office? Because if it is, this little duo needs to happen more often. Cousin, that was great. Y/N, I assume you had a part in it, so thank you." You laugh and Carmy says, "Cousin, she helped me turn my thoughts into something more professional to tell people instead of yelling. And yes, it was what we did in my office. She's my employee, remember." Richie replies, "Good, I'm glad this conversation happened then. I think the staff needed to hear this... And, workplace romances can work between the right people. I'll leave you two with that." He then walks off. You say, "I better finish cleaning the front. I'll see you tomorrow chef." Carmy nods and says, "Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N."
PART THREE... THE WALK... coming soon!!!
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july-19th-club · 1 year
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me age seven being sat down in front of the school’s district child psych lady and being given strange, simple spatial puzzles to solve and then long, complicated worksheets and hammering my way through them at the speed of light while having zero comprehension what their purpose was or why i was here: this is urgent! i have to get a good grade in Weird Puzzles, Or Else, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve,
#kjalkjsdalkjasdl mrs button was a nice lady but not one adult in my childhood ever seemed to notice what to me now seems like#a pretty obvious case of the autisms#then again maybe they just didn't look as hard unless it was *really* obvious back then . it was like. what. 2000? a couple years later#everybody was talking about autism but not when i was six or seven then it was usually just when it was Very Visible#a couple years later my cousin who's more visibly on the spectrum than me got her diagnosis so young that she's pretty much always had it#which is...well i think it's just made her life difficult in a different way. people underestimate her or don't treat her like she's her age#but then she's always had the opportunity to get accommodations and people are sometimes more forgiving when she can't do something#whereas i got labeled 'kid that should be ahead of the game' from a pretty young age and then when i struggled adults either ignored it#or it was just a huge hassle to them and even i could see it exasperated them to have to work around me#but because mrs button (nice lady but what were you thinking) hadn't told them to treat me like a kid with a developmental disorder#they didn't do that in good OR bad ways . so i never got any accommodations with school stuff i struggled with which was a fair bit#i wasn't supposed to need extra testing time in a quiet room or tutoring with math or help organizing my abysmally scattered things#the only time i DID get that was in sixth grade when i was sort-of friends with this kid jonathan who was Very On The Spectrum#he wasn't really a talker unless it was about whatever he was reading which suited me fine so we just kind of existed in each other's space#and his TSS was this very smart and nice lady who had clearly clocked that Something Was Going On With Me and even though it wasn't like#her JOB she made a little bit of time for me. mostly with emotional stuff (i think i was under the impression she was a therapist?)#but if i had some problem with being unable to keep friends or being frozen out by the kids i wanted to be liked by (happened often)#she'd be able to just like. be there she'd make the time . wish i could remember her name
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misc. daily life photos again .. for the every once in a while that I collect enough over a few months to actually make a photo set out of them lol
#Not sure how to caption every photo because you can unfortunately no longer caption photos so that text appears#under them when you view them. you can only add photo descriptions (which is more about literally describing#the image for people who can't see it or etc.). I wish they had the ability to have both captions and descriptions as both are useful for#different functions but it seems they took captions away entirely so. I guess I'll have to just number every picture and then talk about th#em in the tags or soemthing?? SO.. starting from top left to right --#image 1: blackberries BUT also if you look close.. there's a tiny little bug on them lol#image 2: little water droplets on the back of a leaf that looked cool.. love anything with tiny water orbs#image 3&4: a spiky fuzzy sort of caterpillar outside on a yardwork glove.. small friend#image 5: THIS is such a bad slogan!!! what a lie!!! I personally would LOVE to have a sandwich party! in fact I would rather attend a#sandwich party than a pizza party because it would be fun to sample a wide variety of sandwich platters with all different meats and chee#& breads & ingredients & etc. !! now I just wish I could go to a cool sandwich sampling party w a full buffet of various mini sandwiches :#image 6: a chicken sandwich I made myself at home. with swiss cheese >:3#image 7&8 : HHRGH it's a CAT and also bubble tea!!! AND is pastel teal! but alas.. it was like $20 and I didnt want to pay that but now#looking back on the photos slightly regret it lol. I think it's more because it's a brand name since the cat is some popular cat like hello#kitty or something. I didn't really notice that until later lol. I was just thinking 'OMG A CAT!'. I love all cats. brand or no brand lol#image 9: my single once a year trip to the drink place that has really nice garlic noodles. this time with beef? which was good too. And#the typical drink order of pina colada smoothie (i think it's coconut pineapple and strawberry?). plain matcha bubble tea (favorite and all#I ever get from anywhere). and a strawberry smoothie thing. I also usually get a coffee bubble tea but the place is like 50% of the time ou#of coffee for some reason so. hggh.. Which I know is like everyday food for some people but. I get food from places SO rarely that it's al#ays an event to take a picture about lol. Just cooking at home 99% of the time makes those trips for fancy food more special I guess#Id rather save the money/dont have much in the 1st place .& also am still a freak who hates using apps/dislikes shit like ubereats or etc.#I would literall NEVER get food delivered to my house under any circumstance unless I was dying alone inside on hospital bed rest with no#support system and no transportation and having food delivered to me was my last possible option. otherwise. if I want something so bad#I can just leave the house to physically pick it up myself without involving a middle man to the process and paying more. .. ANYWAY ghjgjh#image 10: BOY in BOX.. playing a new boardgame and he sits inside! rip to my big beautiful son. I miss him.#UpWords is a fun game though. It's similar to scrabble except you can stack the letters? interesting#Okay. that's all the pictures! Also for the record I do think it's a good thing to have image descriptions! I wasn't complaining in the sen#e that I wish they would get rid of them and bring captions back. more just I would like to have both preferrably. I liked being able to#caption things on the occasional post like this where the layout is better suited towards it.#photo diary
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readymades2002 · 7 months
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something difficult about writing/storytelling but only in short disconnected bursts is that writing anything longform is very difficult. there isn't as much time to practice long-term character development or subtlety (implying character instead of immediately clarifying) when its not really meant to go anywhere but a notes app. its a little frustrating...i'd love to do something more longform though. i've considered maybe just doing some short writing scenes in my various original universes a lot recently mostly because i just havent had time to draw anything fancy recently </3 maybe that would be something...
#briefly talked about it with a coworker today bc i mentioned my brother makes music#and she got excited because she paints and she showed me some of her work (beautiful btw!!!)#and said she hopes he pursues music and doesnt get his heart crushed by retail like we do#we still make things but ive been thinking about it...it really is like#i feel like ive had less TIME to make things but ive also developed more interest in my own ideas#and in constructing them on their own terms. its hard to describe and even harder to share because its#not churning out fanart for a response i guess?#i dont know. i do feel more satisfied with what im planning but theres less to share#anyway i promised her i'd show her my art sometime so essentially i have to flee the country now#she does lovely work she paints pictures of pets and it seems so nice. she seems so happy with it!#its like...i love it. im a little jealous of it. i feel so much pressure to Do Something New with my art#try to craft scenes and settings (i think setting is such ann important part of storytelling but i have so much trouble drawing it!)#and try new compositions and poses and just not have everything look the same all the time#its led to a lot of work im proud of but its also hard to create under those expectations...#i wish i could find a niche and settle into it comfortably. i think fun character drawings could be that for me#but its...it frustrates me to post those because it feels like if its easy and i like doing it and how it turns out then im not trying#okay i think im done now. sorry for these rambling introspective posts lately lol im#trying to warm back up to posting so i can use this website again (despite how very very bad it is)...#i want to see my frieeeeeends <//////3 i want to be here without running away <///3
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metanarrates · 11 months
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it's actually really weird to me that a lot of adults don't seem to remember the worst bits of being a child. were you not horribly aware of when adults were talking down to you as a child? don't you remember how little autonomy you were allowed, even when it came to things that seemed pretty harmless? don't you remember the times when adults would seemingly be assholes to you for no reason? even if you had nice and reasonable parents, didn't you ever have teachers or other adults in power who treated you disrespectfully? didn't it sting no matter how people justified it?
especially when I was a teenager, it seemed obvious to me & to most of my peers when an adult wasn't treating us with respect. you could almost smell it, in certain classrooms. there would be this palpable, shifting undercurrent of teenage dissatisfaction whenever some teachers started talking. and it made a lot of the kids act out! which of course made the teachers try to exert their power, which never worked because nobody respected them, which made them get more draconian, etc.
as a teen, I didn't really get why my peers and I seemingly had a superhuman sense for when an adult was on a power trip. but now I think I get it. kids are systematically denied autonomy, respect, and consistently have the validity of their experiences denied. like, flat-out. they're a vulnerable class of people made even more vulnerable by their lack of societal rights. being disrespected as a kid is so frequent that I would say it's a defining experience for most children. is it any wonder they tend to pick up on when an adult doesn't see them as worth listening to?
so yeah, of course a ton of kids want to be treated "like an adult." to them, that's synonymous with being treated like a human being worth listening to. it's up to you, as an adult, to understand that wish for what it is, and behave accordingly. you don't gotta be a child psychologist. you don't gotta be perfect at it. all you have to do is remember how painful adult disrespect could be when you were a kid & do your best to act with some compassion.
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nezuscribe · 6 months
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𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬
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pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader
summary: you find yourself in a marriage that you never wanted in the first place. your husband seems to hate you and you begin to wonder if anything you used to think of him was even true. who would have though a marriage to gojo satoru would be so difficult?
warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, mentions of cheating, slight angst (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo doesn't really know how to husband for some of it
word count: 10.9K (whoops)
note: part two is up! i really had a lot of fun writing this so reblogs and comments are always appreciated! as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading <3
jjk masterlist
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never did you think that you’d be stuck in a marriage to a man who didn’t love you, but there’s a first for everything. 
you should count yourself lucky that he’s not old and bald. he’s pretty. in fact, he’s the prettiest man you’ve ever seen. his eyes are the bluest, bluer than the sky. his hair mirrors the winter snows, and his back ripples with muscles whenever he fights. 
his agility is unlike any other man. he fights swiftly and cleanly, never taking more than a couple minutes to get rid of whatever it was that stood in his way. he’s charming with his words (or so you’ve heard), and he knows how to make somebody swoon if he really wants them to. 
and he seems to despise you.
you had known gojo since you were a child, the two of you running around each other's fields as you chased him with your wooden sword. you remembered watching him in training, wishing him good luck whenever he went on a hunt. you could even remember how he would stutter whenever he tried to talk, something he must have worked on because he never seemed to stutter anymore. 
he was always nice to you, his cheeks rosy whenever you kissed him goodbye. he was kind back then, grinning brightly whenever he saw you. 
but as time grew and you with it, and it was only a matter of years before the two of you went your separate ways. it didn’t help that once he turned thirteen he had to leave for training and fighting in whatever it was that was needed of him, but you had hoped that he would be able to write back. 
you would send him letters whenever you could, it was tradition whenever the two of you were separated for too long to do so. each letter telling him about new experiences and embarrassing things that happened in your life, but he never responded. you liked to send one every week, sometimes including little tokens you thought he might enjoy. but you stopped sending them after the first two years and stopped asking about his whereabouts after three. 
but you were hopeful that when you saw him that night so many months ago, he’d be civil with you. you were nervous, sure, but who could blame you? you had recently gotten news that his time to serve his clan was over and that he was finally back home. it wasn’t as though the two of you had left on bad graces, so you were hopeful that he would at least remember you. but he could barely meet your eyes whenever you tried to catch him from across the room, acting as if you had never existed. 
he looked so different since the last time you had seen him. he was taller than most of the people in the room, his white hair just as bright as it used to be. he had gained muscle mass almost everywhere, and you felt yourself wondering just how much training he had to go through to look this way. you could see him talking to a girl, a smile on his face as he tilted his head to look at her better. you gave him some time to socialize, not wanting to intrude on anything. 
after an hour you decided that it was long enough, and tried to weave your way through the crowd to get to him. you had tried to call out to him, waving to him despite your mother quickly shoving your hand down, saying how improper it was. he heard you and you knew that he was purposely ignoring you, so you began to feel heavy-hearted after a couple of attempts at trying to catch his attention, eventually giving up. 
and now, despite you wanting to, you can’t even blame him for hating you. 
ever since your mother caught you, alone with him, a man you hadn’t seen in so long, she had swiftly and promptly proposed the idea of marriage only a few days later. it was really to save face for the two families, but it helped that this marriage would unify the two clans. 
you were sure he had ladies lined up to marry him, and you weren’t somebody he was actively trying to pursue. you didn’t even know if he was in love with somebody else if he shared a connection with a girl who was surely not you and cursed you for taking that away from him. 
not that it mattered now. 
all you wanted was to reconcile, to catch up on all the things happening in your lives. you wanted to hear all the stories he must have racked up over the years, not for this to happen. all the things he wanted for himself were ripped away because of one night from one simple act of kindness, and so you couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for the way he acted.
you rarely come down for dinner whenever he’s there, but when you do, you feel those eyes turn icy, tracking your every movement till you sit down opposite of him. he doesn’t say much, just mutters a quiet “good evening” and you’re sure he’s only doing it so the maids don’t start to gossip. 
whenever your hand brushes his you feel him snap back, flexing his hand as though your touch burned him. he rarely came by to ask you about how you felt, and so you stopped trying to act kindly towards him if he didn’t want anything to do with it.
any semblance of romance you had dreamed of as a young girl quickly dissipated when you realized your husband wanted nothing to do with you, so you didn’t try to pursue any sort of love, deciding it’d be easier if he just did his part and you did yours so the two clans wouldn’t worry. 
he was always gone, which might be the best for the two of you. when he’s not training new men then he’s gone in a hunt. if he’s not in a hunt then he’s somewhere in his endless home, hiding away. 
you don’t know if he does this for him, for your sake, or for everybody else. 
“did you see your husband this morning?” one of your maids said excitedly as she tugged the undergarments over your raised arm, a gleeful smile on her face as she rambled about something gojo had done. you couldn’t help but return a smile of your own, although it didn’t quite meet your eyes. 
“yes, briefly. he’s busy with having to worry about the feast,” which wasn’t a total lie. you’d seen him hurriedly brush past you, quickly glancing at you as if he had forgotten you were his wife. you felt your chest tighten up with the way he glanced at your hand, and then quickly left. 
it was only a few nights away and you knew that it was the only buzz of news anybody seemed to talk about. unfortunately, for you, it meant having to socialize with other clans. you were fine with that aspect, you’d been doing it since you were young, but this time they had a right to be nosey. you knew there would be endless questions asked about the honeymoon stage of your marriage, to which you had no answer. 
sure, you’d been making up answers to hypothetical questions, but you didn’t know what gojo would be answering with, so you were only praying some of your responses would line up. 
for a night the two of you would have to pretend to be husband and wife, and while the people around you knew you were anything, you knew you had to commit to the role for the sake of you and your family’s dignity. 
but all this worrying isn’t good for your head, you could already feel the pang as you squeezed your eyes to try and get rid of it. you tried to move on from your worries, going to comment on her necklace, it seemed new, but a knock interrupted you. the two of your heads popped up, looking at where the sound came from. 
“come in!” you called out, buttoning up the last bits of your top as you thanked myra. she nodded, bowing as she went to open the door. you could hear her faint footsteps, not bothering to look up as she greeted the person behind. you guessed it was franchesca coming with the fabric samples. 
“sir,” you heard myra say, and your head swirled around, only to see the topic of your conversation make his way into your room, excusing your maid with a swift motion of his hand. she glanced once at you and then to him, ducking her head as she left, closing the door behind her as she left you two alone. 
you felt heat prickle at the back of your neck as he looked at you and then to your room. the two of you slept separately, as per your request the first night. you couldn’t bear the agonizing silence between the two of you, and he obliged. 
he was dressed for sparring. he had a loose-fitting tunic on, and pants that would allow him to move freely and without constraint. it was in moments like these that you were reminded of the fact that gojo was the strongest warrior that any of the clans had seen, that the child who once splurged on sugar in his tea was capable (and has done so before) of taking down entire armies. 
he had matured so much since what you last remembered from him. he no longer acted rashly nor spoke without thinking about what it was he wanted to say. but you still saw him eating sweets with the same fervor he did as a kid, and it never failed to make you smile, hiding it behind your hand so nobody could hear your quiet giggle. 
it had been a while since it was just the two of you, alone, and all you could think about was that night. your cheeks heated up just thinking about it, and it seemed that gojo could tell your discomfort with the way he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he began to speak. 
“good morning,” he started, his eyes darting around, never setting on yours. it was funny if it didn’t cause your heart to hurt irrevocably, at how the strongest warrior in all the land could barely look at his wife. 
if only you knew.
“good morning.” you offered him a quick, disingenuous smile, moving around until you found your vanity, rummaging through your laid-out earrings as you kept your back to him, not trusting your face to give you away if you were to look at him for too long. 
you heard him take in an audible breath, but he continued whatever it was he wanted to say. 
“with the feast coming up, i want to clear some things with you,” you turned around, looping the earrings in as you nodded for him to continue. it was such a shame he was so stunning, effortlessly attractive as the sun caught off his cheekbones, bouncing off of his chest. he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, and you wondered if being here was just as painfully awkward for him as it was for you. 
“we should act like we’re…” he trailed off and you felt yourself itching to leave, knowing what he meant without having to say it. 
“in love?” you finished and he slowly nodded, gnawing on his lip as you brushed past him, going to find the mirror so you could adjust your jewelry. you could see him fidgeting in the corner, and for once you could see a hint of nervousness and unease on his features. 
and a part of you hurt. you would never admit out loud that you harbored a crush on him for as long as you could remember. it hurt knowing that you acting like you were in love was perhaps the lost genuine form of love you could show. 
“what if they ask about the night we met?” you ask after a couple of seconds, looking up from what you were doing. deep down, you knew somebody was bound to ask. even if it was just your mother who had caught the two of you alone in that garden, the news of it somehow spread (she was always one to talk). 
he scratches his head, shrugging as he eventually settles on an idea.
“just tell them the truth.” 
the truth. 
tell them how he followed you after you had run outside, sick to your stomach after a man, who was as old as your father, had introduced himself as a possible suitor. how gojo, the most ruthless warrior in all the land, had carefully put his hands on your back as you retched, offering you a towel he had fetched from inside to clean yourself up. 
tell them how you hadn’t seen him in years but the first thing you had done was to hug him tightly. how his hands wrapped around your back as though they were the only things keeping you afloat. perhaps they were. 
tell them how he murmured words in your hair to bring you back to reality, his thumb running up and down your arms to calm you down. how it seemed like even though it had been years since you two last saw each other, it felt so right, so normal, to be back in his arms. 
tell them how he had looked at you with such worry, such care, unlike anybody else had looked at you, and you for once felt safe in somebody’s arms. 
tell them how your mother found you two in such a compromising position, with your head nestled in his chest as he tried his very best to soothe your cries. it was humiliating and embarrassing to be caught with a man you had only seen back in your teenage years, and especially so in such a vulnerable position. 
you shake your head, scoffing at the idea, “i’ll just come up with something,” was your answer and he nods along, realizing how the story would be too private to share with people you barely knew.
“and we need a reason for why,” he cleared his throat once again, pink dusting on his cheeks as his eyes dropped to your stomach. your eyes met his in the mirror, and one of your eyebrows raised, “well, you’re not exactly looking like you’re carrying a child at the moment.” 
you quickly looked away, the tension in the room increasing as you moved away from the mirror, doing anything you could to keep your hands occupied. you flushed at the comment, your throat drying up as you glanced at your stomach.
the two of you have barely touched, much less been intimate with each other. you were glad he hadn’t forced the idea onto you, instead, leaving it to you to bring up the topic. you only talked about it, once, the night of the marriage, and then never again. you knew that it would have to happen eventually, but you couldn’t do it right now, not with your state of mind. 
you scrambled to say something. in all honesty, you had been dreading this question. you hadn’t been answering any of the letters your mother sent, and you knew people were expecting to hear the news of a pregnancy. 
“we’ll just say we’ve been so busy and preoccupied with the politics of marriage that we couldn’t… consummate.” you offered and he just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as if this was the biggest inconvenience to him. 
you knew that this marriage was brought upon quickly and before either of you could object to it, but at least you tried to hide it away. if only he hadn’t acted so rashly that night, his hands on your shoulders, eyes bewildered as they racked over your figure. if only he had been more careful, or you were smarter in picking some place to be more concealed, you wouldn’t be put in this position. 
but neither of you was thinking ahead, and here you were. but he was certainly making sure that you knew of his contempt for this arrangement far more than you were. it was irritating, it scratched at your skin and ate away at your mind the more you saw each other.
“look,” he couldn’t take his eyes off of you, off of the way you were fiddling with the ring he had delicately placed on your hand so many weeks ago, “i can come up with whatever they ask, so just try your best to do the same.” you say, your voice tinged with anger, the ring on your finger acting as an anchor to the depths of the sea with the way it weighed down your movements, feeling your chest swell as he stayed silent, watching you as you opened the door. 
“i don’t-”
“um, i won’t be joining you for dinner, so don’t wait on me…i apologize, i need to work on some things for the feast…have a good day.” you swiftly murmured, shutting him in your own room as you left, your heart thumping erratically in your chest as you almost ran down the hallway. 
you had no idea how you were going to persuade the masses that this marriage was working if you couldn’t even persuade yourself. 
---
the feast of clans came earlier than you expected. 
you found yourself perched at the end of the table, gojo next to you, your stiff bodies mirroring each other as the people around you joyously helped themselves to the vast variety of food offered. 
you could barely touch the meal in front of you, your stomach churning uncomfortably with the sheer number of people that surrounded you. back home, you hated these feasts, opting to leave after a couple of bites and finish the rest of what you could pocket in your room, but here, as the clan leader's wife, you had no such luxury. 
“are you not hungry?” you looked to your side, gojo staring at your plate and then to you, his eyes squinting as he tried to decipher what you were feeling.
“i can’t eat,” you murmured, playing with your utensils as you swallowed thickly, “i don’t do well in large crowds.” 
he nodded once, looking out into the sea of bodies as he inched a little bit closer to you. he was donned in expensive fabrics, although his hair still messily fell all over. the candle that was lit in front of you had different hues of oranges and reds bouncing off of his pale skin, and if you didn’t know any better, the blush on his nose and cheeks could have been from the frigid winds from outside. 
“i’ll have myra save you a plate,” he said, giving you a curt smile as he went back to eating. 
you were momentarily taken aback by his comment, but tried not to show it, going back to fidgeting with your ring as you looked at the sea of people. nobody had thankfully come up to you and bombarded you with questions, but that didn’t mean that it wasn’t going to eventually happen. 
“thank you,” you say, glancing at him and then back to your plate. 
“anything for my wife,” he replies. it’s only for show, you remind yourself, after all, when was the last time he referred to you as such? 
“gojo,” an old man had walked up to your table, his face lined with wrinkles and a beard, dressed in orange as he offered gojo his hand to shake, “i’m glad to see that you finally settled down.”
gojo blushed deeply, trying to offer him a smile as he motioned to you. 
“it’s hard to resist marriage when such a woman offers it.” he says, and you feel your eyes widen as you try to laugh off his statement. 
“yes,” the old man chuckles, eyeing the two of you. he looked familiar, and you were sure you had seen him around these sorts of gatherings before, “it was only a matter of time before it happened. we all knew just how much you liked her back when you were children.”
the two of you sputtered on your coughs, and you felt a little smile grow on your face as gojo did what he could to usher the man away. 
you could tell with the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat that gojo wasn’t expecting that, and before you could realize what you were doing you found yourself talking. 
“i’m not a fan of feasts.” you quickly said, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them. it’s not like you felt you owed him an explanation, but you said it regardless. 
gojo looked up from his plate, grabbing his cup so he could wash down his bite. 
“any feast?” he asked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. he was glad you brought up a different topic. 
“one’s as big as this,” you twisted your ring back and forth on your finger subconsciously, “i get nervous in big crowds.”
“i remember,” a small smile grew on his face as he thought back to when the two of you were children, “you would hide under the tables and force me to come with you.” 
you chuckled, blood rushing to your ears at the fact that he remembered this about you. it was the bare minimum of what you remembered from him, but you had convinced yourself that he had washed every memory of your last selves from his mind. 
a rush of distant memories came to your head; nights spent under the tables, laughing as you two tried to keep your voices down as you tried to dodge the feet. you could still hear his whispers of staying quiet, trying to sneak out so he could smuggle in some pastries for you to eat.
“the adults scared me; they were always loud and insistent on asking personal questions.”
“like they are now?” he replied back, a tilt in his voice as you nodded feverishly. 
“yes!” you covered your mouth with your hand as you let out a laugh, a genuine one as you tried to look as put together as you could, “i swear, it’s even worse than when we were young. just the other day a wet nurse came to me and told me the best positions to get into when giving birth!” it really was a mortifying moment, your eyes darting all around as the old lady even took it upon herself to demonstrate the movements, but gojo didn’t seem to mind, laughing along with you. his eyes twinkled as they took in your giggly state, years since he had last seen you like this. 
“i feel like i should apologize,” he starts, having to cover his own infectious smile as he ducks down his head in shame, “i had her sent up to your chambers.”
your mouth dropped open in shock, lightly smacking his arm as he grinned at the look on your face.
“to mortify me so that i would never leave?” your thumb moves your ring back and forth and gojo watches you as you do it. 
“you seemed sick at breakfast, but i guess she thought it was a different sort of sickness.” gojo tells you as he cuts off some of his meat, not knowing just how much his words affected you. 
you had forgotten how simple and easy conversations were with gojo. although this was under a guise to fool people, you felt at ease with him, as if you didn’t have to be on guard with your emotions when he was around. 
“do you still want to hide under the table now?” he asked a couple of seconds later, chewing on a potato as you shrugged, looking around before your lips grew into an apologetic smile. 
“…yes,” you admitted bashfully and he smiled at your honest response. 
“if you want to hide, i’ll-”
“satoru!” a booming voice interrupted your endless spiral of thoughts as the two of you glanced upwards at the sound, “it’s been too long!” 
a man with hair as dark as night and a smile wider than any ocean had come up to your table. he was the first one to do so all night, but gojo didn’t seem bothered by it. he seemed to smile, crescents forming around his eyes as he took his friend's hand.
“too long,” he emphasized with a charming grin, motioning to you and then back to the man in front of you as if he suddenly remembered the two of you and never met, “suguru, this is my wife, y/n. y/n, this is one of my oldest friends.” 
you extended your hand outwards and the man, suguru, took it, placing a soft kiss on the back of it as he shot you a playful smile. he wasn’t at the wedding, but then yet again, it was a rather quick one. the only people who had attended were your families. 
“it’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted, and you nodded in agreement, sitting back down next to gojo. you felt his long fingers reach for yours, enveloping your hand in his as your heart sputtered at the touch. 
“likewise,” you answered and the man grinned politely before he slightly tilted his head, looking at the two of you sitting next to each other. 
“he’s not bothering you, is he? i know satoru can be fiendish when he wants to be, so call for me and i’ll take care of him.” he teased and you could only smile tightly and laugh along, gojo’s fingers slightly tightening around yours as he moved your hand to rest on his thigh. 
“i can take care of him when he’s fiendish. i just have to take the sugar away, right?” suguru snorted and gojo glared, but it was playful the way he looked at you. 
his hands were warmer than you would have expected. you could feel the indents of calluses on his fingertips, could feel his thumb moving back and forth on your skin in a calming sort of manner. he didn’t look over at you as he did it, playing it off as second nature. 
“i apologize for not having much time to get to know you, but i have something i need to talk to gojo about. would you mind? it will only take a minute?” he asked, and gojo let go of your hand at the time of his friend's voice. you had to control your urge to roll your eyes, shifting in your seat as you motioned for suguru to talk to your husband, watching as he stood from his seat, leaving with the man as they went somewhere a little more secluded. 
you watched as gojo leaned down to hear whatever it was that suguru was whispering in his ear, pulling back with a frown on his face. he snapped something that only caused suguru to reel back, cast a quick glance at you, and then shake his head in clear annoyance. 
you saw gojo look up, his eyes landing on somebody from across the room, and you followed his stare, only to land on a girl. 
she wore a dark yellow tunic and skirt, colors from a neighboring clan. you hadn’t seen her before, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t known. just one look at the men surrounding her and you could pick up on their lovesick expressions. 
she motioned for gojo to come to her with a bend of her finger, slyly brushing her hair out of her face to make it look as though it was nothing, exiting from the dining area and vanishing into one of the halls. 
you looked down in case either of the men glanced over to see if you were staring. your eyes pierced through the meat on your plate, bile rising up your throat. 
you gave yourself some time, counting up to a minute before you looked back to where suguru and gojo were, finding suguru standing alone. you looked at where the girl was and saw a flash of white hair before it disappeared, your heart sinking as you glanced back at suguru, only to find him looking at you. 
you looked back at your plate, picking up a knife and fork as you stabbed the meat. you couldn’t keep anything down but it’s best to pretend.
---
gojo didn’t return until half an hour later, and you refused to talk to him. 
“did anybody bombast you with questions?” he teased, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. he didn’t seem to pick up on your darkened mood as your fingers dug into your dress. 
“i had a woman ask me if you had disappeared with your mistress, but that was it.” you remarked, silence filling the void between the two of you and you realized that all you had thought of him was crumbling down. 
you didn’t care for your image anymore, giving curt answers to any questions somebody had asked. you could feel his stare on the side of your face but you didn’t humor him in looking over, focusing on your plate instead. 
so what if he was seeing somebody else? you would have been naive to think that he wouldn’t wander. the two of you barely touched each other. 
once all the guests had left over the course of the following days, you did everything you could to steer away from gojo. 
you no longer came down for breakfast or dinner, choosing to eat in your own quarters. if he wanted to have his own secrets, he could do whatever he pleased. 
though you rarely saw suguru after the feast, he did try to talk to you the morning after it took place. he cornered you after you had left from breakfast, his once playful demeanor turned serious as you tried your best to end the conversation. 
“what you saw last night-”
“is none of my business,” you finished, raising your hand as you cut him off, “if gojo has his own private matters to deal with, i’m indifferent to them all.” 
“you know that’s not what it was.” his hand hovered over your arm, careful not to touch you but not wanting you to leave either. 
“i ruined his life, didn’t i?” you tilted your head a bit in questioning. after all, that’s all you could hear from the women who gossiped as they folded the laundry, or behind the hands of the girls who watched you and gojo interact and the mothers who wanted their daughters to be set up with him only sneered at you from across the tables. 
“you…where’d you get that from?” his brows scrunched together in confusion as you scoffed, hoping he couldn’t see the tears welling in the corner of your eyes at the sting of your own words. 
“i can see it on his face. if gojo wants to have his own affairs, he can have them. it’s not like we’re in love. hopefully, i find my own way out so that the two of us look happier and this marriage looks somewhat presentable to the public.” 
you didn’t want to see the look on his face, but you’re sure he reported this all back to gojo because he didn’t look at you once after it. 
you heard from a maid a week later that he was gone for another meeting with a clan, a southern one from what you picked up, and that you should probably go and wish him some luck. 
leading up to the night of his departure you anxiously paced around your room, your feet padding on the floor as your nightgown swished behind you. 
you hadn’t talked to gojo at all that day, and purposefully so. 
it was petty, you know it was, to not want to see him, but a part of you still aches when you look back on that night. at how he didn’t explain where he was even after you asked, at how it was suguru he had sent to fix his dirty work for him. 
“y/n?” a muffled voice came from outside your door. 
your head shot up at the familiar sound, quietly dragging yourself out from your bed as you grabbed the candle, hovering on the other side as you waited for him to say something else. 
“are you awake?” you heard a soft thud from his side, almost as if his head or arm had hit the door. 
you didn’t answer, still, waiting. 
“i’m leaving tomorrow and i wanted to see you before i left.” your heart skipped at his words, careful not to make a sound as you near the door. 
“if you’re sleeping i won’t bother you anymore but if you’re not,” you could hear the old stutter he had coming back, his words meshing together as he tried to regain control, “and you’re choosing to stay quiet, i…” he sighed, his forehead thumping down as he rested it on the door, “i wanted to apologize for the feast. i shouldn’t have left you alone, and if you’d open the door, i would explain why…” he could see the flicker of the candle from underneath the crack, and saw the way it blew away, darkness following suit. 
you walked back to your bed, turning your back to the door as you set the candle down on your table. 
“goodnight,” his voice was quieter than before, and you felt guilty, but pushed the bitter feeling down.
a couple of seconds later you heard him let out a sigh of defeat, his footsteps leading away from your bedroom as you curled into yourself, hoping you would let your heart stop taking control of what your head should be doing. 
---
gojo didn’t return for a while, and you grew more impatient by the day. 
it normally took him and his men a week at maximum, and once two had passed, you felt yourself growing uneasy. 
you tried to act as passive as you could, but even myra could pick up on your growing apprehension. you have never voiced your worries over your husband before, but she knew this wasn’t like any other time. 
when you went to bed, the only thing you could dream about was that night, your brain re-running the images as you tossed and turned. 
“are you alright?” he asked, his hands on your elbows as you could barely speak, your blurry vision impairing your sight. you could only see a mop of white in the darkness, your stomach betraying you as you tried to keep the sick down. 
“i don’t feel too good,” you mumbled, trying to put some distance between the two of you as you pushed him away, only to feel him coming closer as he placed a hand on your forehead and then to your cheeks. 
“you’re burning up,” he muttered under his breath, guiding you gently so that you wouldn’t trip over your feet. 
“i’m sorry, you can go back inside, i don’t want to keep you out here.” you were slurring your words as you tried not to throw up on him. you wiped at your eyes so that you could see him better, only to reel back in utter shock to see the face of your childhood friend frowning down at you. 
your mouth formed in the shape of his name, going to say something else, before you hunched over, feeling his strong hands pat your back and keep the hair out of your face as you felt your world tilt on its axis. 
you ate your dinner at the table, eyeing his empty seat as you tried to shove his last night out of your mind. you shouldn’t feel this way, especially about a man who feels nothing towards you, but your little heart was churning in its confines the more you let yourself think about it.
sitting in the same spot where the feast took place only brought back the venomous taste in your mouth, and so you pretended that you were back home, eating somewhere without the worry of your life weighing you down like a thousand weights on your shoulders. 
myra tried her best to distract you, but she could see the distant look in your eyes, how your voice never seemed too genuine. she began to worry for you, but it seemed like your mind was fixed on one thing. 
until you found yourself pacing around your room, just like you were the night you last heard of him, playing with the ring on your finger as the moon carded through your window. 
“my lady,” you heard myra through the door, her voice shaky and a bit more on edge than usual, “there’s-” but before she could finish it slammed open, revealing the man you’d been biting your nails over, standing in the flesh.
his eyes were a dark blue, squinted as they looked right through you. his chest heaved as he looked like he was trying to catch his breath. you could see the streaks of blood that lined his usually clean clothes, the red that stained his cheeks and jaw. 
he looked feral, and it was throwing you off balance. 
“out.” he snapped at myra, and before you could scold him for his tone she fled, the door shutting roughly behind her. 
the two of you could only stare at each other. you didn’t know what to think after weeks of uselessly worrying over him, not knowing about his well-being, to see him here, in front of you, but looking different than he ever had. 
“are you alright?” 
you could barely get it out, the works sticking on your tongue as you took a tentative step forward, not knowing what to do with his state of being. 
he eyed the blood on his shirt, wiping at his cheeks as if he had forgotten it was there. he didn’t look too dirty, less dirty than one would expect from a five week endeavor through the woods, but he didn’t look too good either. 
“you were awake.” is all he says, his chest still moving up and down as though he couldn’t breathe properly. 
“that night i came by, you were awake. i saw your candle, i heard your footsteps.” he says this as though it’s fighting its way out of his mouth as if it’s all he could think about to tell you. 
“i,” you pretend that you don’t care, shrugging, “i wasn’t up to talk.” 
“you were with suguru.” he snaps, his tone shocking you, and he steps back as if he had shocked himself. he jammed his palms into his eyes, tilting his head upwards before he looked back at you. 
“for five weeks you were all i could think about. i wanted to come back, i wanted to tell you what i felt but we kept running into issues with other tribes and clans.” 
“what could you possibly think about that occupied your mind for five weeks?” you so desperately wanted your voice to come out strong but it sounded weak, as though you were hanging off of his every syllable. 
“you had told suguru that you were going to find your…own way out,” he took a step forward, and here you could see the scratches on his chest, the cuts on his arms, “i was praying to every god there was that you hadn’t found somebody in these past weeks, that you hadn’t…”
you could barely believe his words, not knowing if you should feel offended, shocked, worried, or a mix of all those three. 
“what business would it be to you if i did?” you hate that this was the response you settled on. hurt flashed across his face but he tried to regain his composure. 
“you are my wife-”
“and you are my husband!” you snapped and watched as he was momentarily taken aback by your outburst, but you continued your nose flaring, “you cannot argue with me on this when you left with some girl in the middle of our feast!” you felt all your emotions finally pouring out and you had no control over them, “everybody was talking about it, everybody was looking at me in pity!” your voice cracked, tears poking at your eyes as you pointed an accusatory finger at him. 
gojo looked down, running a hand through his hair as he pointed a finger back. 
“if you had let me explain myself, you would have known that she was trying to do what you thought she was. i left as quickly as i could but you would barely look at me!” you wanted to rip your hair out, cursing yourself for ever feeling any sort of worry for this man. 
“i know that this marriage was the last thing you wanted but at least you could play the part of a husband! you didn’t send a single note, anything to tell us that you were okay, that you were alive!” you heaved, fidgeting with your ring as you wiped at your cheeks, “and you come back here accusing me of adultery? all everybody could talk about was the fact that you were warming somebody else’s bed! they said a meeting never takes this long unless something…somebody else comes up.” your voice wobbles at the end, and you find yourself furiously rubbing your tears away, hiding your sniffing as though that would do anything.  
he paused upon seeing you cry, his face falling as he tried to step forward but you angled yourself away from him, hoping he’d get the hint. 
he wanted to hold you, to tell you that all the rumors you were hearing were false and that the only room he had left in his heart was for you. but he couldn’t blame you for feeling or thinking this way. hell, he was so sure that he’d open the door to find another man comforting you that he didn’t even stop to consider what must have been going through your head all these weeks. 
“one of the clans tried to attack us, and we weren’t ready for it. that is why we took so long.” 
you sniffle again, not caring for his explanation although it did soothe a part of your past self. 
“you could have at least sent a letter telling me what happened,” you fidget with your ring, your thumb running over the diamond, “everybody asked me questions that i should have had answers to, but i had no idea where you were or what you were doing…” he nods, his lips pressed into a thin line as he agreed with you. 
“you're right,” his voice was thick with emotion, the words slurring in his mouth as he found himself anchored in place, not knowing what to do. but you were rambling, your thoughts going on and on and you couldn’t stop yourself. 
“…but i know you don’t like letters, so the least you could have done was send a parchment saying i’m alive or something like that.” you rub at your nose again, feeling like all the weeks of worry we’re coming to a standpoint. 
he looked confused now, if anything, and scratched at his jaw. 
“what do you mean?” 
you scoff at the audacity, rolling your eyes as you feel anger prickle at your skin. 
“you never once responded to any of my letters. in my eyes, that must mean you have some sort-”
“letters? what letters?” 
you glance at him, taking in his shaking form. 
“come on gojo,” you feel embarrassed as he urges you to speak, having to spell it out for him, his eyes pleading with you to continue, “the ones from when you left for training.”
his mouth opens and then closes, looks at the ground and then back up to you as he shakes his head. you could hear your fireplace crackling in the background. the only sounds circling the room were the pops of ember and your breathing. 
“i…” he feels like there’s cotton in his mouth, hoping that you’re lying, “i never got any letters.” 
the fire crackled once again and you could almost hear a pin drop as you shook your head vehemently at his statement. 
“n-no, no you did. i wrote to you every week, i sent one every week for two years and you never responded and my mother said that you must have forgotten about me…” and you trail off, the tears in your eyes stoning as he furiously wipes at his own eyes, and for the first time since you had seen him fall down when he was a kid, you saw his own tears staining his cheeks. 
“nobody gave me your letters. i thought that you,” he takes a deep breath, tongue poking inside his cheek as he tried to control himself, “i thought that you didn’t care for me anymore.” 
you hug your midsection, your emotions running wild at his words. 
“i was under the impression that you hated me.” you admit, and he looks as though you stabbed him through the heart. if only others could see the powerful warrior now, stripped bare to his conscience and all he could think about was you. 
“why…why would you think such a thing?” you two inch closer without knowing it, longing to touch each other, wanting to know that the other was really there and that this wasn’t a figment of your imaginations. 
“gojo, you could barely looked at me that night at the gala and now it seems as though you, well, look at you - you’re flushed!” you’re grasping at straws, motioning towards his face,  twinged with pink as you rub at your nose, “you seem angry whenever i am near-” 
“the only person i am angry at is myself.” gojo whispers, but his voice echoed around the expanse of your skull. 
“yes, i’m aware,” you feel cold despite the fire in the corner, your tone carrying an air of know as you scorn, “i know the last thing you expected by comforting me was a marriage but-” 
“you think i am angry because i married you?” he was moving closer, his hands shaking, his eyes wet. you could see the ring on his finger glow in the dim light of the fireplace, how it shined brighter than any of the night skies, “the only good thing that has happened to me these last few months was being able to introduce myself as your husband. i know that i stripped you bare of any love you may have had for any other man, but call me selfish for feeling glad that i did.” 
you could barely focus on what was happening, his words sinking deep into your skin, going to your bones. 
“i told myself that you had forgotten about me those years i left. when i saw you that night i was so sure you had come with the intention of finding a suitor that i didn’t want to distract you, but then i saw that man come up to you…” and he couldn’t finish, choking on his words as he stuttered, and you saw a glimpse of the boy you had fallen in love with so long ago. 
“and i followed you out. if i knew that simply being alone with you would have gotten me married to you then i would have cornered you in a closet the moment i saw you enter the dining hall.” 
a tear rolls down your chin, splattering on the ground beneath you as you struggle to make sense of what he was saying. it felt as though the months of being married to him were weeks spent pacing around your own rooms, thinking the same worried thoughts, and not having the strength to confront each other about it. 
“you…you don’t hate me?” your voice is timid, almost not believing yourself as the statement tumbled out. gojo had the audacity to laugh a bit, shaking his head as strands of his hair fell into his face. 
“my every waking moment is spent thinking of you. when i was in training, you were all i could dream about, hoping that when i’d come home i could finally have you to myself. 
“you have control over my emotions, my mind, my soul, and i cursed myself for taking away your options for a husband, but the only thing i’ve wanted to do these past few weeks was to hold you in my arms. to tell you just how deeply i yearn for your love back.” 
he wiped at his cheeks, glistening in the faint light. he looked angelic, despite the grime and blood that decorated his clothing. you didn’t want to think about the men he had killed just to come back, to come back to you, and the thought of ever losing him hurt you more than when you spent nights wondering why he never responded to any of your letters. 
you couldn’t stop your feet from leading you toward him, and you could only watch as he met you in the middle, catching you with all his strength, holding you as if you weighed nothing, and it only took a few seconds before your lips collided. 
it was rushed, and messy as you felt his hands holding you as if you carried the weight of the universe. your teeth clashed, your tears staining each other's skin as your hands gripped at his hair, using it for leverage as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, enjoying the whimper that escaped your lips when he nipped at yours. 
it was what years of longing and desperation felt like. how it felt like you two just molded into each other as if your bodies were cut out with the other in mind. you felt like your heart was about to stop beating, and you knew gojo felt the same with the way he’d whine against your lips, wanting you more than you could have ever imagined. 
“we’ve been stupid people, haven’t we?” you whispered as you pulled away, trying to catch your breath as he smiled against you. if only you knew just how much he’d been wanting to kiss you like this, to see your swollen lips as you looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. you were his venus, his only saving grace, and he could only vex himself for ever making you feel anything but love. 
“very, “ he pressed a kiss to the corner of your eyes, “very,” to your nose, “stupid,” his lips were on your cheeks, feeling like he was breathing in new air at the sound of your laughter, “people.” he pressed his lips to yours again, cherishing in the way you whined at the harshness. 
he had spent months convincing himself that you no longer cared for him. weeks of perilous training to only come back to a bed and dream of a girl who didn’t share his emotions when in reality you did. he wants to track down the letters you had sent him, to read every word carefully, as if each sentence carried its own riddle inside of it. he wanted to apologize for never having the honor of experiencing your skilled penmanship, for leading you to believe that he had simply forgotten about you. 
“gojo,” your fingers curl in his tunic, your heat transferring, trying to be rational in such an irrational state of being, “you’re bleeding, i should call for the doctor.” he didn’t stop kissing your face, moving to your jaw as he smiled hearing you shudder. 
“it’s not my blood,” he murmured and you wanted to smack him for how cocky he sounded, “and don’t call me gojo.” he nipped at your lips again. 
“husband?” you found yourself smiling at the title, but he shook his head. you saw how he was trying to hide his own grin. 
“sire?” you tested it out teasingly, hating how it sounded. he seemed to agree with the way he grimaced at the name. 
“my lord?” he wanted to bottle up your laughter forever, knowing he could get drunk off of the sound. his nose nudged up at your jaw, pressing wet kisses wherever he could. 
“hmm, what about my liege?” you're curling a strand of his hair around your fingers letting him settle you down on your vanity as you spread your legs so he could slot between them. 
“my men call me that.” he says, cringing as it falls off your mouth. you pretend to think, not knowing how you were able to live without this banter for as long as you did. 
“satoru?” you felt breathless saying it after so long. but he still didn’t seem to find it satisfactory enough, a pout on his lips as he wanted you to find a better one. 
“close, but only when you’re angry with me.” you tuck that information in the back of your mind for if you ever need to scold him, your cheeks flushed as he interlocks his fingers through yours. 
“‘toru…?” his lips broke into a giddy smile, and you had to control yourself as he swooped back in for a kiss. his eyes were so much softer when he laughed, the kind ones you fell in love with so many nights ago. 
“there it is,” his voice was husky, raw as your fingers gripped at the baby hairs at his nape. he was taking your air away with him and you couldn’t find it in yourself to fight back for it. 
“i forgot how cheeky you can be,” you bite your lip to keep the moans inside, feeling feverish as his tongue ran over his love marks, not knowing what to do yourself as you scrambled to grab onto something to keep you afloat.
“you have no idea how much self-control it’s taken not to ravage you,” his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s tugging at your shirt, fingers slightly brushing upon your breasts, “every night you’d come down for dinner i wanted something different to eat.”
“stoppp,” you mewled, not used to this. he chuckles as his slender fingers work to untie the knot keeping you together, tugging at the string until it falls, revealing your naked chest, heaving as the fabric pooled at your hips. 
you wanted to cover yourself up under his heavy gaze, to take the fabric and hide, but you felt pierced by his stare. his eyes darted to yours as if checking to see if you were okay. when you gave him a timid nod, it seemed as though it prompted him to finally move. 
his fingers were gentle as they ran across your waist, large as they covered the soft of your stomach, eager as they went upwards. he looked like he was crazed and starved, as if you were his last meal and he couldn’t wait for the sweetness death would give. 
your breath stuttered as his fingers found your mounds, rubbing a soothing thumb over your nipples as his pupils grew. he was eager as he flicked them over and over, a cheshire grin growing as they hardened under his touch. 
“you’re perfect,” he murmured, dropping down so he could suckle at your tits, his spit shining in the light of the fire, and you tilted your head back, soft moans escaping as his tongue drew circles around your buds. 
“f-fuck, ‘toru, that’s,” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, his second hand coming to cup your other tit, not wanting to leave her unattended as he sucked and bruised, wanting to forever leave his mark on your untainted skin. 
“good?” he’s so cocky, and you want to smack the smug smirk off his devilishly handsome face. 
his knee is purposefully rubbing against your clothed clit, and you feel yourself subconsciously rubbing yourself against it. you hope that he can’t feel how drenched you are from him just sucking your tits, but he pinches you, pressing his tongue flat against your skin as he looks up through his lashes.
“horny from just me touching you?” he’s teasing you, it’s so painful the way you want, need him like oxygen. you tug on his hair roughly, bringing his spit-soaked lips back to yours as you bite down on his lower one, enjoying the groan you draw out from him. 
“don’t be mean ‘toru,” you taunt, and you feel him melt in your fingers, nodding to your request as he lowers himself down. 
he presses wet kisses down your torso, stopping just above your hips, his fingers hooking along the rim of your underwear, being careful and slow in his movements as he waits for any objections, making sure you’re okay with this. 
but you were in your own world, hitching your leg over his shoulders, drawing him in closer to you, sweat dotting your forehead as he licks a stripe over the cotton on your pussy, smiling to himself at the taste of you. 
you were so sweet, sweeter than any desert he’d indulge himself on. he was sure that once he had a taste of you he’d be able to repent, to go before any god, and to tell them that you were his religion.
he had spent countless nights, tossing and turning in his bed, the only thing putting him to sleep being the idea of coming home to you. running after you that night was him running home to you, regardless of where you were. he was glad he got your hand in marriage, but if he had to, he’d wait another ten years just to hold you in his arms again.
he peels your underwear off, a string of your arousal connecting to it, and he tucks it in his pants, for safekeeping. 
“you’re going to be the death of me.” he says against your heat, his nose rubbing against your clit as your eyes wring shut in pleasure. his hands grip your thighs, making sure you stay in place as he kitten licks around where you need him the most. 
“don’t let…don’t let any of your enemies hear,” your voice comes out in bits, your hand resting on the back of his head as your leg tightens around him, “don’t want them to come after me or something.” 
he snorts, pinching your thighs as if anybody could come within a ten feet radius of you without losing an eye. 
his lips come closer to where you desperately want him, a finger prodding at your tight entrance, his tongue finding your clit as he begins to suck. 
it’s all too much, the sensations far better than your own fingers have ever proved to be. 
his fingers are skilled, long enough that they reach deep within you. he sinks one fully in, your walls clamping around him as he continues sucking your clit, his teeth grazing it every so often, making your head thump against the wall. 
“talk to me, how do you feel?” his mouth discontented from your bud and you whine at the loss. he sinks in another finger to make up for it, but he doesn’t move them, waiting for your response. 
“‘s good,” one of your hands is fisting your discarded robe, trying to hold onto your senses as you desperately nod, “don’t stop ‘toru, please,” and he obliges, loving the sounds of your begging, but loving the sound of your pleasures more. 
his fingers stretch you open and you welcome the sting, your nails digging into him as you long for more. 
he switches his mouth with his hand every now and then, his tongue taking the place of his fingers as it licks at you, groaning at your taste as he eats you out with his entire being, his chin shining with your essence and his spit as his thumb rubs furiously at your clit. 
“mmhhh, just like that, fuck!” you’ve never heard your voice at this pitch, never knew it was possible to feel this way. his other hand reaches up to flick at your nipple, the extra sensation making white dot around your vision. 
you feel yourself getting closer to the sweet release, feel your wall clamp around him even tighter as that knot in your stomach builds to a crescendo. 
“come on, let go f’me, know you want to, know you can.” he spurs you on, his fingers unrelenting as they piston in and out of you, reaching that gummy spot that makes you go dumb.
“fuck, ‘toru, m’gonna, m’gonna come!” you cry out and you’re sure anybody walking past you could hear the debauchery. your thighs were starting to shake and you felt it all go black as you reached your high, your orgasm washing over you unlike anything you’ve ever felt. 
you creamed around his fingers, gushing around him as you wailed out, tears dotting your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling. you squeezed around him, wanting to never lose what this felt like, trying to catch your breath as his mouth never stopped sucking at your nub before he was sure your climax was over. 
when he finally pulled away the only thing that could be heard was the two of you, trying to come back down as stupid smiles made their way onto each of your faces. 
he was boyishly charming as he stood in front of you, licking yourself off of his fingers as he grinned at the taste. you couldn’t be bothered to be embarrassed after having him just between your legs, but you still felt a heat blossom in your chest. 
“so…” you awkwardly start, sweat dripping down your face from just how hot the room had suddenly gotten as you avert your gaze, “what now?” 
he shrugged nonchalantly, despite the fact that his heart was about to beat it’s way out of his chest. you let him pick you off of the vanity and tucked you safely away into his chest as he led you to your bed, gently setting you down in your mountain of pillows and blankets as you felt sleep etch away at you. 
“i’m going to clean you up,” he pressed a kiss to your hair, smiling at the way you giddy smiled at whatever he did, a dopey grin on your face as your hand searched for his, interlocking you fingers with his as if you didn’t want to watch him go, “if you let me.” 
you yawn, your head tilting as he sat down at the edge of your bed, still not letting go of your hand as your fingers run through the soft pelts beneath you. 
“and what about you?” your chin points the obvious hard-on growing in his pants. he looks down as if suddenly realizing, and he plays it off by looking back up to you with a wink. you felt your mouth going dry at the size of it, not knowing if you could even be able to take something as big as that. 
“for another day,” he promises, and you’re sure he’s not going to forget it. not like you want him to.
“and then?” 
your question lingers in the air. you don’t want to wake up to him acting like this never happened, as if your feelings were only a figment of your wildest dreams. but his eyes hold onto yours, never letting go as he brushes some strays away from your face. 
“and then i get a bigger bed for my room because there’s no way i’m letting you sleep here alone after this.” his thumb runs along the palm of your hand, his fingers tracing patterns into the soft of your legs. 
“and then?” 
“and then you tell me all the things i missed out on when i was gone. i’ll tell you about the time suguru shaved my head, and you’ll tell me about anything on your mind.” 
“what if i run out of things to say?” sleep is overtaking your voice, and you’re already nodding off, not even truly knowing what you were asking. 
“then i’ll make up stories so that you’re not bored.” he finds a clean towel, soaking it in water from a nearby pitcher as he drags it slowly across your body, as if your fragile and made of porcelain. 
“how do i know you’re not a dream? you might just be,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes as your finger traces his ring, “you might just be my own mind tricking me.” your eyes are shutting, but the teasing smile on your face never leaves. 
“because a dream wouldn’t hide under a table with you if you asked.” he whispers, kissing your lips with a soft peck as he pulls the blanket over you, letting you sleep into a slumber as he crawls in next to you, holding you to his chest just as he did that night, just as he will every night from now on, and just as he longed for those nights he wished you next to him.
12K notes · View notes
mysicklove · 5 months
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𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐘
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DAY 31: MASTURBATION
With: Izuku Midoriya
Word Count: 1.5k
Warnings: subish! Izuku, fem/afab reader, izuku masturbates to your voicemail and pretends to fuck you, reader calls him baby, and he calls u hun, needy izuku
A/N: masturbation fics are so fun to write for no reason. anyways, my last kinktober fic. crazy. it doesnt feel this way cause i wrote it halfway through lol.
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Izuku was left alone for too long. On the verge of three weeks to be exact.
He wasn't left completely alone, of course. He was just overseas, on an important mission. He was separated from you, but that to his love-sick brain, meant he was left alone. His sleep schedule is all messed up from the times he stayed up late at night to wish you goodmorning, or the times where he woke up super early to catch you before you ate dinner. 
He missed you, an ungodly amount. When he comes home to his luxury hotel, and flops onto the bed, the only thing he can think about is you. What it would feel like to wraps his arms around you, and melt in your warmth. The way your fingers would run through his hair, and comfort him from all he did that day.
Of course he had those innocent, romantic thoughts most of the time, but somehow one way or another those fantasies began to change. The touches reach lower, your words begin to drip with honey, and your lips seem to be more passionate, desperate even. Until five out of the seven days, he daydreams about fucking you. 
He lays against the bed frame, shirtless, and dick pulled out of his boxers. The trip back to the hotel was long, and he's been thinking about doing this for the past hour now. He prepared everything ahead of time, because if he was doing something as pathetic as this, at least do it right.
The lights were dimmed, and his eyelids are drooping, exhausted from the day. He slowly reaches toward the nightstand and grabs a couple of tissues, setting them down next to him. Then with a sigh, he puts his phone up to his ear, and brings his hand to his cock. 
He gulps when he hears your voice, wishing desperately that you weren't asleep. Its got to be around 5 am by that time, and of course he wished he was patient enough to wait a couple hours for you to talk to him. But, he was desperate, and the voicemail you left him a couple hours earlier did the job.
“Hey baby,” Your voice broadcast, and immediately he seems to melt. His eyes fall shut and his hands begins to move up and down his half hard cock. He hums in reply, not caring if you cant hear him. “I miss you. Saw a kid walk by me with your merch on, made me smile,” You say, your voice slightly muffled from a task you must be doing. 
He huffs a laugh, head falling to the side. “Yeah?” He breathes, thumb rubbing at the tip, and then falling back down to his shaft in a repetitive motion. You continue on about your day, mentioning nothing too important, just how you went grocery shopping and a nice walk after work. “You shouldnt be working. Can take care of you,” Izuku mumbles, eyes peering open just slightly to watch his movements.
His cock was on full display now, the tip a pretty shade of pink, and beginning to leak. You always called it pretty. A strange thing to say about a penis, but he soaked up the praise, taking pride in his cock now. 
The thought made his mind wander. Would you praise him for what he was doing now? He wasnt supposed to touch himself without you, but its been three weeks, you have got to understand. Were you touching yourself thinking about him? The thought sends a thrilling shiver down his spine.
Your voice was now a background noise, just listening to the tone, the sound of it, but nothing of what you were saying. Maybe you were cooing at him. Telling him how good he is doing. Or maybe you were calling him a pervert for doing something so gross without you knowing. He lets out a shaky moan, mewling out and picking up the pace of his hand. 
“I miss you,” He warbles into the phone, on top of your speech. What were you talking about now? A dog you saw? Nothing important. Why weren't you touching yourself to his voice? He would die for an audio of that. Or even an audio of where you give him directions of how to do touch himself correctly.
No Izuku, slow down. Don't hurt yourself, baby. Your voice clouds his mind, and he nods, peering back to his cock and slowing his hand down. Thats it. Tighten your hand, and focus on the tip. He obeys, moving his hand up to the head, and making small pumps there. “S-Sensitive there,” He groans to the empty hotelroom, shaking his head from side to side when his heartbeat begins to pick up.
“Went into Victoria's Secret today,” You hum, and his eyes widen, attention snapping back to your voicemail. He quickly turns up the volume and pressing the phone closer to his ear. “Bought something you’ll love. Red is your favorite, yeah?”
Lewd images flash through his head of dark red lingerie sets and he nods. “Fuck. Please,” He moans, wishing he was there to pick it out with you. His dick twitches, and a glob of precum leaks out. Green eyes flicker to it, and he uses his thumb to swirl it around the head, flinger glazing over the slit. “Wanna see,” Izuku pants, growing hot.
You seem to have heard his reply and it makes him whine. “You don't get to see till you get home. A nice reward for doing so good all this time you are away,” You purr, making a short kissing noise into the mic and laughing.
His eyebrows furrow at the possibilities and his mind drifts off from your voice again. Suddenly he is there with you, his rough hands trailing up and down your body. The dark lingerie looks perfect against your skin tone, and his mouth waters at the sight. Well, look how needy you are Deku. Do you want to fuck me that bad?
He nods his head frantically, hand unconsciously picking up the pace. “Please. Please, beggin’ you,” he chants under his breath, his back slightly arching off the frame. He dully notices that the voicemail has ended, but doesnt pay attention to it, too immersed in the movie playing in his head.
His mind cuts the scene forward, growing too impatient and desperate as his orgasm begins to approach. You are under him, sending scratch marks down his back while moaning out. His thrusts are frantic, and he tries to pretend that his hand is you. Its not the same, but it will do. 
“Am I doing good?” He mumbles, dropping his phone onto the bed and resting the other hand on his thigh. You nod at him, kissing his cheek with redden cheeks, and lazy grin. A view he has seen so many times that he has a perfect mental image of it. 
So good, Izuku. You wanna cum inside?
He moans, louder than he should, considering the thin walls, but he doesnt care at the moment. He never gets to cum inside – this was something he was waiting to hear. “Fuck. Pleaseeee,” He whimpers, eyebrows furrowing and hand frantically moving up and down. His cock is lubed up with pre, and its easier for his hand to move now. 
He climbs closer and closer to his high and now hes hunched slightly over on himself. Suddenly, he hears his phone ringing, cutting him out of his perfect daydream. Just a couple of seconds, he just needs a couple seconds more of fucking you, and then he can take this call. He whines slightly, and peers over at it, not stopping his movements.
When he sees your name his eyes light up, and he grabs the phone and brings it to his ear immediately. His hands makes a lewd squelching noise, but he too fucked out to care if you hear.
A couple of seconds go by, and he breathes into the mic, waiting. And then he hears a groggy, “Hey baby,” and he cums on the spot. Groaning into the phone without a care as cum spills out on his hands and his whole body shakes. 
Another second goes by, as you wait silently on your side, confused on what was happening, but too sleepy to put two and two together. Izuku's chest rises and falls with every breath, and he stares at his cum covered hand, trying not to let out a sound of complaint when he realized he forgot to cum into the tissue.
He blinks a couple times, exhausted but glowing. “Hey hun. Was just thinkin’ bout you,” He hums, grinning at his sticky hand and closing his eyes when he hears your girlish giggle.
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charcoallbaby · 2 months
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the chase
smutty asf. 18+
wrote this last night while i was half asleep enjoy!
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matt sturniolo was the biggest slut ever. if he wasn’t too busy with college work or being the hockey teams captain, a girl was definitely getting dicked down by him.
i was a sophomore, he was a junior so we never crossed paths until my best friend started to date one of his brothers nick. my best friend, sam was head over heelings for nick, it was annoying to be around but i was happy for him, he seemed to be really happy.
his brother matt sturniolo could never get his eyes off me when i was around him, it made me pissed off. i knew what his thoughts were, even if he was a cool guy, which he is. he’s nice and pretty and would never dare try to do something with me since sam and nick warned him that im off limits. but i think matt liked the chase, he liked the fact that he couldn’t have me. so all he did was eye fuck me across the room with a solo cup in his hand talking to some blonde who was practically begging for him. he could smile and girls would be throwing themselves at him.
i sighed before making my way over to sam and nick. “can we go?” “im getting tired,” i exhaled. “girllllll, come on!!!!” “the party is just getting started!” sam cheered. i rolled my eyes at him. nick touched my arm, “matt’s going home soon, he has a project to work on, i’m sure he’ll have no problem dropping you off.” “yeah-um sure, i’ll ask him.”
my eyes darted over to where matt was. no where to be found.
3 months later.
“it’s so fucking hot god!” i groaned. “don’t worry y/n, it’s because im here.” matt joked. i angrily rolled my eyes. “matt, what?” nick cringed. “it’s too hot in this car and i’m gonna die if we don’t get there soon.” i whined. “stop whining and be happy!” sam patted my head like a dog. “wait is there a pool or hot tub there?” chris asked nick. “hot tub chris, it’s a cabin in the middle of the woods!” “but we can just get the hot tub in while it’s cold.”
the second matt parked the car in the garage, i grabbed my bag, hopped out and ran towards the door inside. i needed to get into minimal clothing, i was wearing sweats for some reason.
“here she is!” “here she is!” sam sang out. a smile formed onto my face.
i wore a baby blue bikini set. it made my girls look amazing which rarely happens while having a heavy chest, bikini cup sizes always do me dirty.
i pulled myself up onto one of the kitchen island stools. “care to make me one?” i asked matt who was on the opposite side of the island cutting himself limes to put into his bottles of corona. “yeah sure,” he flashed me a small smile. he could be really sweet sometimes, it didn’t suit his slutty alter ego that he had. he had no shirt on. he looked really fucking good. small beads of sweat were around his neck, i wish i could lick them off. what. no. y/n stop. my eyes shifted down to his tattoos covering his right arm, it made him more attractive if that was even possible. i shook myself out of the heart-eyeing gaze i was in and turn my stool around to sam, chris and nick playing mario kart.
something cold touched my back making me jerk away from it and turn around. “here.” matt nodded his head. “thanks,” i took the bottle off him, our hands quickly touching. he had nice hands. matt made his way over to the boys in the open-planned living room joining them on the couch. “i’m just gonna go tanning!” i called out to the boys. “okay!”
i placed my headphones into my ears, pressing shuffle onto my playlist. the first song playing was “we are the people.” by empire of the sun.
i opened my eyes, something was blocking the sun. all the 4 boys standing in front of me. i ripped my headphones out of my ears. “excuse me?” i pull my sunglasses down from my head to cover my eyes. “we’re going to the store do you need anything?” sam asked. “oh-em,” “get me more tanning oil i’m out,” i propped myself up with my elbows. “girl, we meant food,” nick sighed. “oh, im good.” i smiled before laying back down. “can i have the keys?” sam asked. “oh yeah here,” i hear matt’s keys jingle. “wait,” i sat up. “who’s going?” i asked. “just me, nick and chris why?” sam pushing his hair out of his eyes. “oh no, just wondering.”
great. i’m gonna be here alone with matt.
the boys walked back inside. i picked my headphones up to put them back in my ear until i hear the door re-open. “thought i’d join you,” matt’s voice became louder.
i mentally groaned. i moved my head to my left and looked at him. “i’m not going to be doing a lot of talking, i’m tanning as you can see you,” i looked back up at the sky. a husky chuckle left matt’s mouth. “i was gonna turn on the hot tub and make the water cold for us,” i sat up for the 3rd time in the space of 2 minutes and looked at him. “nice glasses.” he teased. “thanks.” i gave him a fake smile.
i couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not they were the iconic simple black raybans.
i walked over to the hot tub, taking off the covering. “do your job.” i crossed my arms. matt laughed. “such a pretty attitude.” he walked past me and turn the hot tub on. i rolled my eyes and looked out at the view infront of us while matt did his job.
“should be good to get in.” matt picked up his bottle of beer, taking a gulp. “alright.” i dipped my foot in.
“ohhhhhhh fuck,” i moaned putting my head back in pleasure. the cold water hitting my skin felt so good against my boiling body. matt followed in after me. “so,” i clicked my tongue. matt looked at me while licking his teeth. his teeth and lips were so perfect fuck. “what’s your body count so far?” i crossed my arms. he shot me a glare.“i’m not as bad as you think i am y/n, i just like to feel good,” he put a wet hand through his dry hair. “yeah sure matt, does that mean by being inside every girl that you make eye contact with?” i tilted my head and smirked. “i’d bet you’d love it.” he raised his eyebrows and shot me a smile. “yeah, no thank you.”
i layed down on the couch in my bikini scrolling through different social media’s on my phone.
matt drained me in the hot tub. all he did was try to flirt with me and try to get me to accept to let him fuck me, so i left. it was way cooler inside from the blaring AC.
“we’re backkkkk!” nick sang while walking upstairs from the garage. i put my phone down and sat up. “did you get bottled water?” “i’m dying,” i followed nick into the kitchen. “yeah, sam and chris are bringing the groceries up now, i didn’t want to carry anything!” he chimed. i let out a small laugh before nick asked, “where’s matt?” “he’s in the hot tub,” i looked outside at him. “oooooo, i wanna get in the hot tub, “please tell me he’s not a psychopath and it’s cold?” “it’s freezing don’t worry.”
it was around 9pm. everyone was tired from the sun. all of us were in the living room, me laying on the cold floor, nick and sam sharing a arm chair, chris and matt both sprawled out on the big couch. my arm draped over my eyes while we talked while chris’ playlist while lowly playing on the tv.
“we’re off!” nick yawned. i pulled myself to sit up. “don’t go to bed too late y/n!” sam called out.
“i won’t thanks mom!” i called back.
after awhile of chris yapping to me and matt, i decided to head upstairs and going to bed.
it was 4am, i went to use my bathroom until i noticed there was no toilet paper. i groaned and made my way to my bed to grab a t-shirt to put on.
i threw on a baggy t-shirt before opening my door and making my to the bathroom. i rubbed my eyes and pushed open the half-closed door infront of me.
"fuckkkkk,” i heard a deep groan. i rubbed my eyes again. matt standing in the shower touching himself. he didn’t notice me. i quickly turned around before i heard him moan my name. no. no. no. i needed to leave. i quietly shut the door and ran back to my room.
i anxiously sat on the side of my bed biting my acrylic nails. that fucker was thinking of me while jerking off. i sighed before waiting until i could hear matt’s footsteps.
i walked out of my room to matt with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair and water droplets all over his body. i gulped. “showering at 4am?” i questioned. “i like night showers y/n,” he stopped. “oh yeah, i bet you do matt,” i jokingly winked. “wha-” i cut him off. “it’s okay matt, you get off to me,” i crossed my arms. “n-no, no i don’t how would you know?” his face was covered with confusion. “i have ears, anyway im going to use the bathroom,” i walked past him. he quickly grabbed my arm. “no, no,” “y/n tell me what you heard?” he quirked his eye brows up. “matt i’m going piss myself.” “i’ll see you in the morning then.”
i made way back into my room. i jumped seeing matt sitting on my bed with shorts on. his phone screen lighting up his face. “what the fuck are you doing in my room matt!” i whisper-yelled.
he smirked. “i think we should recreate what you suppose heard in the shower,” i rolled my eyes. “matt,” i sighed. “go please, i’m tired and i don’t want to fuck you sorry if that bruises your massive ego, but your probably a walking form of chlamydia,” i made my way to the opposite of my bed.
he turned and looked at me. “come on baby, i’m clean i get tested im not stupid,” he layed down on my bed, resting his hands behind his head. i layed down beside him. “i’m going asleep matthew,” i placed my head down onto the pillow behind me. “mhm,” he mumbled. he leaned down to me his lips hovering over mine, they looked so kissable. “you don’t know how bad i want to fuck you, you make it so hard when all i want to do is bury myself inbetween those thighs y/n,” he groaned. i clenched my thighs together which made his eyes shift down. a smirk now planted onto his face. “i bet your panties are soaked, can i check?” his fingers trailed down my under my shirt. i nodded my head. god what am i doing. 2 minutes ago i didn’t want him anywhere near me, now i want him everywhere.
he pulled my underwear down slowly making me impatient. i groaned and leaned my forehead against his bicep.
matt slid his fingers down my soaking pussy that was begging for his touch. “oh my fuck, “your soaking,” he groaned before slipping two fingers into me. a low moan left my mouth. “look at me,” he spoke. i quickly pulled my head up and looked at him. he picked the pace up hitting my g-spot making me moan loudly. “there it is,” matt whispered. all he did was hit my g-spot making me on the verge of my orgasm. “come on sweetheart, finish on my fingers.” his thumb met my clit making my orgasm come quicker. i clenched around his fingers and shivered while coming down from my high.
matt’s fingers were in his mouth tasting me. “you taste so sweet,” his lips finally meeting mine. i hungrily kissed him, i didn’t know i had this much energy from just coming down from my high. his right hand met my waist slowly pulling my shirt up. “take it off,” he mumbled. i quickly took my shirt off before placing my lips back onto his. his hands met my nipples. he pulled his lips away from me before placing his warm mouth onto my nipple slowing sucking it. “matt,” i moaned eyes rolling back from the pleasure. he pulled away from me. “that’s all i wanted to hear from the moment, i met you.” he grunted. “fuck me, please.” “as you wish.”
he was massive. i didn’t know if he would be able to fit inside of me.
he lined himself up with my entrance. “ready?” his chain hanging over me. i nodded my head. his head slowly entered me before pushing his whole self into me. “ohhhhh,” i let slip out. “you ready baby?” he asked again before kissing me. “mhm.” i mumbled.
matt was pounding into me roughly and i wouldn’t want it any other way. god he felt so good inside of me. i have been missing out.
he slowly pulled out of me finishing all over my stomach. his load tripping down my hips. i quickly picked it up with my fingers and placing my fingers into my mouth. the salty-sweet taste entering my mouth. “i think you were made for me y/n, you feel way too good.” matt mumbled into my neck.
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viennakarma · 6 months
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Three is a party
Lewis Hamilton x Reader x Max Verstappen
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Summary: Max hated you. He hated your pretty face, your beautiful body and your amazing personality. He hated that you were Hamilton’s girl.
Word count: 3.8k
Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, anal sex, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with very little plot, dom!lewis, sub!reader, sub!max, possibly queer! everyone, kinda polyamory situation, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read
Notes: this is honestly just pure filth, you are warned. This is entering lgbtqia+ territory (for both drivers).
I’ll post this and drink a bottle of holy water or something.
God, Max hated you.
He hated your pretty face, your beautiful body and your amazing personality.
He hated that you were Hamilton’s girl.
Really, it was never his intention to look at you that way. Your paths should’ve never even crossed if you weren’t the most friendly person in the entire world. The first few times he saw you was just in passing, and he thought you were beautiful, but granted, all Lewis’ girlfriends were beautiful anyway. But then, you and Lewis became official after a couple of months, and your presence in race weekends became more and more prominent.
You soon became friends with other drivers, and Max always saw you around having a blast with George and his girlfriend, or even joking with Lando and Oscar, or helping the Ferrari guys with photography, or chatting with Valtteri or Esteban. When you even started a brief friendship with the Alpha Tauri boys, Max knew his time was coming, you seemed intent on getting acquainted with everyone.
The first time he was introduced to you, it came from Daniel Ricciardo, who was strolling with you, and Max suddenly crossed your path, trying to avoid both.
“Max!” He heard Daniel calling after him, and Max immediately froze on the spot. He managed to move and turn around just in time as you and Daniel stopped right in front of him, “This is Y/N, she’s brought everyone some cookies!”
“Hi, nice to meet you, Max!” You shook his hand, and he looked down to the box of cookies you were balancing with the other hand, “those are 100% healthy, ok? Gluten-free, vegan, low carb, all the athlete friendly stuff!”
“You made them?” Max asked, dumbly. But you laughed out loud as if he had said the best joke ever.
“Oh no, I can’t bake- or cook, to save my life!” You offered, raising the box, “go on, take one, you won’t regret it!” You said sweetly, your eyes shining in such a way that if you had offered him poison, he would probably take it willingly.
You chirped away as soon as you spotted Lando and Oscar, offering them cookies too after wishing Max a quick “good luck”.
You were always at the races, and through gossip, Max had heard you had a job only during four weekdays, so even if you had to work up until Thursday, you would always find a way to go to the races to support Lewis. You made sure to always greet every driver, wishing them luck regardless if you were rooting for your boyfriend only.
One day, Max was passing by and you noticed him, even if you were chatting with your boyfriend.
“Hey, Max!” You saluted him, and he just nodded back to you with his lips pressed in an almost smile.
He hated your ass in those jeans. He hated the way your perfume lingered behind every time you left after chatting with him. He hated the way you were always touching Lewis, not in a very PDA way, but more with soft touches, holding his hand, putting a supportive hand on his shoulder, whispering softly and giving him that divine smile of yours.
God, Max was so fucked.
-
Lewis invited everyone to a pre-season party at his place in Monaco. He even invited Max, who was particularly surprised, since they’re not really close. When Max texted other drivers to check if they were going, all of them confirmed, because no one would willingly miss an infamous Lewis Hamilton party. And Max decided to go because he didn’t want to be the only stuck up guy who wouldn’t show up.
And definitely not because he was hoping to see you there.
As he arrived purposefully late, the party was in full swing as soon as he entered through the door. His eyes scanned the room, dimly lit lights, loud music and way more people than he expected. He spotted you first, wearing a skimpy shimmering dress, standing between Lewis’ legs as he was sitting in a bar stool right behind you. The two of you were chatting with Lewis’ friends and Carlos, so Max did the most rational thing and walked to the opposite side, finding Checo and Charles talking over drinks.
Eventually he had to go and greet you and Lewis, since you’re both hosting the party, would be rude not to. He saw the opportunity as soon as you and Lewis were alone by the bar, whispering conspiratorially. He approached with a small smile.
“Glad to see you, Max” Lewis shook his hand as you smiled softly. It took Max a lot of restraint to not allow his eyes to rake down your body as you touched his shoulder in a friendly manner.
“Hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight, Max,” you said sweetly.
“I am, thanks for the invite,” he raised his drink politely. Luckily for him, he was immediately called over by Charles, who wanted a partner for a darts game.
He managed to let loose after a few drinks, and he didn’t stare at you as much as he did on the paddock. He drank and even met new people that Charles introduced him to.
As the party was winding down after a few hours, Max made sure Checo got to his car safely and instructed his driver to walk him inside because his teammate was way too drunk to walk on his own.
When Max got back, the amount of people still partying had lowered to half, and as he entered the room, he saw you exactly on the center of the dance floor. Reggaeton was blasting by the DJ, and you were dancing and grinding on your girl friends. And he felt like he was going insane as he went half hard just watching you dance. The way your hips moved, and the dress hiked up dangerously close to show half of your ass, and the envy he felt as he saw your girlfriends’ hands roaming your sides. He swallowed thickly forcing himself to look away, but the image of your hips moving slowly didn’t fade from his mind.
He tried to not pay you any attention, but you spent the next 30 minutes dancing, and grinding dangerously close to show your ass and you cleavage as the dress moved with your body.
He decided to go into the bathroom to calm down his mind and the hard on inside his pants. He threw cold water in his face that was red from the alcohol and the show you were giving outside. He refused to do anything about his boner other than mentally calm down. He is a high performance athlete, he could and would have the self control to command his body. He didn’t even want to touch himself because he didn’t want to cross that line.
He spent almost an hour inside the bathroom, pacing around and calming down.
As he came back to the party, he frowned, noticing that almost everyone had left, and those who were still there were getting ready to leave. Max decided that was the right course of action.
He spotted you and Lewis sitting down, Lewis sitting on an armchair and you sitting on the arm by his side.
“Hey, guys, thanks for the invite, I had a great time” Max waved.
“Do you want to accompany us for a nightcap?” Lewis suggested. Max looked between you two, confused.
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Max said slowly, not sure if you were only being polite, or if you really wanted him to join.
“Come on, Lewis stock the good stuff in the second office,” You winked at him, which made him laugh a little, in disbelief.
He watched as you got up, strolling happily upstairs. Max wasn’t sure if you were tipsy or sober enough, because you were always this chirpy and extroverted. Lewis followed behind you, and Max trailed right after, following to the second floor.
The second office, as you had called, looked like it had came right out of a 1920’s movie with leather couch and armchairs, and a wall full of different types of alcoholic beverages.
Max sat in an armchair close to the warm lights, and Lewis sat right in front of him, strangely close, with only a small centre table between them. Max’s eyes followed you as you went to the bar area.
“Max, how do you take your bourbon?” You asked softly, aligning three glasses.
“On the rocks, please” Max muttered, still unsure about everything. Something seemed off.
“You’re one of us, right baby?” You commented with a little giggle. As Max watched you prepare the drinks, he understood what you meant, all the three glasses were bourbon with ice.
Lewis started a small talk with Max, talking about how you two were considering buying a place in Netherlands because you adored Amsterdam.
As you came back, balancing the drinks with both hands, Max helped you grabbing one and giving other to Lewis. Max swallowed as you bent over to hand him his glass, and his eyes snapped to the way your dress lowered and he caught a glimpse of your breasts. His cheeks were red and warm as you sat down on Lewis’ lap.
“Cheers!” You said sweetly as you raised your glass for him in a toast, Lewis following your lead raising his too, from behind you.
The three of you kept talking about the plans to buy a new place, and the neighborhoods you’re contemplating moving to. Suddenly, you stopped talking.
“Max, can you be a dear and help me take off my heels?” You raised one of your legs in his direction, dangerously close to raising the hem of your dress. He stared at the red bottom of your heels, the strings around your ankle in a simple knot.
Max licked his lips, unsure as he looked over to Lewis, who just nodded, as if giving permission. The Dutch just leaned forward and held your ankle firmly with one hand and pulled the knot with the other. He tried not to think about being so physically close to you, how soft your skin felt against his hand, or the way you curled your toes as soon as the shoe was off. He lowered your foot trying not to linger his touch on your skin, and waited with bated breath as you raised the other one. He quickly undid the other, and he sighed as you finally let go.
He felt like it was some sort of test, as he checked Lewis to see a small smirk tugging his lips.
“Thank you, Max.” You said, politely.
“Do you think she’s pretty?” Lewis asked all of a sudden.
“No, I- I mean- Yes, but-” Max failed miserably, choking on his own words, but both you and Lewis waited calmly for his response. Finally, Max exhaled, looking deep into your eyes, “You’re beautiful, Y/N.”
He watched as you smiled, your cheeks blushing a bit and some kind of sick pride swelled in his chest.
“What do you say, baby?” Lewis tapped softly the side of your hip.
“Thank you, Max,” you whispered.
“We have noticed you,” Lewis started, looking Max in the eyes from above your shoulders, “how you ogle my baby every time you set your eyes on her,” Max felt his chest thudding on his ears, eyes wide, he barely breathe as Lewis’ hand settled on your neck, rising until it cradled your jaw firmly, “but luckily for you, we’re putting on a show tonight. Right, baby? You can stay and watch, Max, or you can leave right now and we’ll never talk about it again,” Lewis offered and waited for Max to get up and leave, but instead, Max just flexed his fingers, eyes on you.
Max’s breath caught on his throat, and he couldn’t believe his eyes as Lewis let go of yours, settling back on the armchair.
“Go on, baby. Make yourself comfortable.” Lewis commanded you, seemingly unbothered as he went back to nursing his drink. But you didn’t move from your place, just staring at Max, as Lewis finished his drink, he set down the glass, pulling your hair on the back of your head, “you’re not getting shy right now, are you pretty baby?” Lewis said and nipped at your neck, eliciting a moan from you as Max watched, mesmerized, his own hands firmly against his thighs.
Max’s eyes were wide as he watched Lewis hands finding your shoulders and pulling down the strings of your dress, making the loose fabric pool down around your waist, and your breasts proudly poking up beautifully. Max had to stifle a moan, his blood going straight to his cock at the sight of you half naked on Lewis’ lap. His eyes went from your nipples to your eyes that looked so turned on, pupils dilated and pretty mouth hanging slightly open, he then looked to Lewis, who looked up from ravaging your neck with a smirk.
“Go on, honey,” Lewis said to you but kept his eyes on Max’s.
Max only stared as you put both feet on the center table, flexing your knees and opening your legs to give him a full view of between your legs. He groaned as you showed him you were wearing no panties under that tiny dress. Lewis helped you take the dress fully off, throwing the shimmery fabric on the floor.
“I can bet she’s glistening right now, isn’t she, Max?” Lewis said, grabbing a hold on both your thighs and opening your legs even more for Max to see your pussy, “isn’t she?” Lewis asked again, his tone showing some dominance.
“She’s dripping wet,” Max answered slowly nodded, eyes focusing between your legs, which made you even hornier as they talked so casually about it. Your pussy was clenching and dripping so much you were sure you’re going to ruin the couch between Lewis’ legs soon, “you look so pretty, Y/N” Max added, reverently.
“Keep going, pretty baby, touch yourself so Max can see how pretty you look when you come.”
You obeyed, reaching your middle finger between your legs, finding a small relief running it up and down your slit, moaning softly which made Max palm himself on his jeans. You also could feel Lewis raging hard by your ass, and you wiggled your hips a little to give him some relief too.
“Put a finger in your pretty pussy,” Lewis said, and you went along, putting your middle finger into your pussy, moaning loud at the delicious contact, even though your fingers were nothing compared to Lewis’, “make yourself feel good.”
Max only watched, hypnotized by the way you were pulling your finger in and out, moaning and head lolling back, your tits bouncing with every roll of your hips. Lewis hands caressed your sides and went up until he pinched your nipples and you cried out, your moans louder by the second. The only thing Max could do was press his own erection through the fabric, the up and down of his hand, matching your own movements. He was getting closer to shamelessly finishing on his pants, and he could assume by the way your moans were getting louder that you too were close to finishing. He followed your rhythm, attentively.
“Stop” Lewis commanded and you immediately stopped, whining from being so close to release.
Lewis hummed softly as he noticed how Max also responded to his command, stopping his hand too, fingers flexing against his thigh. Lewis wasn’t sure about anything when the two of you talked about inviting Max to watch. But now seeing how quickly he was to follow an order, how his cheeks flushed and how his mouth was open, Lewis realized he got a great deal in all of this. He never knew Max could quickly fall into a sub preference.
“Max, open your trousers, pull your cock out” Lewis kept his voice firm, no space for questioning.
Max did what he said, unzipping his jeans, lowering just enough to spring his cock free.
“Now you two can start again, slowly” Lewis said, and he watched as Max licked a wet stripe in his own hand, finally closing his fist around his cock and starting slow, immediately moaning. You also started touching yourself again, enthralled by watching Max do the same. He was still following your lead, setting the pace the same as you. Lewis watched, feeling a little bit of relief in your ass grinding against his clothed cock. You were so close again, this time both you and Max moaning out loud, quickening the movements, you pressing the heel of your hand against your clit and Max pressing his cock head firmly. You could feel the tightening in your core, close to-
“Stop.”
You two stopped, you whining at being denied again, and Max put his shaky hand on the arm of the armchair. Max had never had no one bossing him, much less in edging, but relinquishing control was very freeing, in a way.
“You will warm my cock in your ass as you touch yourself, ok?” Lewis said, calmly instructing you. You only nodded. “Use your words.”
“Yes, Lewis.”
“Now get up, give me a kiss and show Max your pretty plug,” Lewis helped you up, because your legs were a bit shaken.
You turned around, bent over to kiss Lewis on the lips, and the position allowed Max to see your beautiful plug decorated with a pink gemstone. Lewis sucked your tongue, and you moaned against him. You wanted more, but his hands made you turn back around. Max watched fascinated as Lewis lowered his pants and freed his cock, pumping twice before spitting on himself, then pulling the anal plug out slowly, and you only moaned as he aligned his cock in your ass and started pushing softly.
You settled back on his lap, groaning at the feeling of his girth inside you, your eyes rolling in pleasure.
“Oh, Lewis! This is so good, love” You moaned, voice failing.
“You two can start again.”
You let Lewis hold your legs open, and placed your hand on your pussy again, inserting two fingers at once, needing release. Max also grabbed his cock, hand pressed against his leaking head, the view of Lewis’ cock disappearing between your legs was doing something to him.
The build up was quick for both you and Max, all the moaning mixing together, and Lewis joining you now that your ass was gripping his cock.
“Lewis, I’m going to-” you tried, moaning as you pumped your fingers in and out.
“Nuh-uh, hold it,” Lewis said, holding the sides of your hips with both hands, managing your movements as you were impaled on his cock. You kept moving, rubbing your wet fingers circularly your clit. Your eyes found Max’s, face fully red, sweat dampening his hairline. “I said, stop.”
Max was the one to whine as he let go of his cock, hips bucking searching for release. You also stopped, feeling the overwhelming need for release as your eyes teared up. Even if it was hard to endure, you loved the reward after edging sessions. Sometimes Lewis even edged you for hours, and in those occasions you came so hard you almost passed out.
“Please, please let us come,” you begged, not caring about how pathetic you sounded.
Max was only following you and Lewis, going with whatever was the flow, needy for release as much as you, but not as prone to begging as you, so he just stayed there panting as desperate.
“Sure thing, baby. Keep going now.” Lewis snapped his hips up, making you choke to the feel of him filling you up.
You nodded to Max, and the both of you started masturbating again, now more synced than ever. Lewis kept fucking into you, and the sensation only added to your own orgasm quickly building up again.
“Lewis,” Max moaned, “can we just-”
“Yes,” Lewis said with a breathy groan, with how your ass gripped his cock he knew he wasn’t lasting long either. “Max, Y/N, you can come now.”
Lewis had barely finished the sentence when you pressed your clit harder and started shaking, and he held you in place as the blinding pleasure overtook you, his cock twitching inside you as he also came with your body pulsating on him. Max groaned loud as he saw you shake, eyes rolling back and toes curling as you practically sobbed through the orgasm. Thick ropes of cum spilled down his hand and his lower abdomen, hips stuttering. He watched as you squirted, hand still on your pussy making a mess as you gushed, dripping on the floor and on the couch.
It was the filthiest view Max had ever witnessed, your tits bouncing as you came shaking, Lewis’ cock still inside you, spilling his cum down his length. Max fell back on the armchair, trying desperately to catch his breath. For a few minutes, the three desperate breaths calming down were the only sounds heard.
Then, Max watched as Lewis carefully removed you from him, putting you on the sofa, you were still all soft from coming so hard. Lewis opened a small fridge and picked two bottles of water, opening them before giving one to you, and the other to Max.
“Drink it up, Max” Lewis said and Max stared dumbly at him, but he just drank it, the cold water refreshing the heat. He watched as Lewis held the bottle against your lips, and you gulped down more than half of the water at once.
You were still fully naked but you didn’t seem really bothered by it. Lewis got up again, and this time, he went through a small door that Max hadn’t noticed before. Max tucked himself in his pants again, and he stayed silent as Lewis came back, he had a damp towel and he cleaned you between your legs.
“I’m sorry, baby” Lewis said as you hissed when he pressed the towel against your still sensitive pussy.
Over the table, Lewis handed Max the towel.
“To clean up the mess,” Lewis explained, looking pointedly at Max's hand and shirt still a little smeared with his cum.
“Thank you,” Max said, using the towel. As he cleaned, he watched as Lewis helped you put on a fluffy robe.
“Max, it’s really late so we suggest you take one of the guest rooms,” Lewis said gently as he helped you get up.
Max was still confused and also spent, but he just nodded. The party had ended long before and he really believed that the three of you should talk about it. But he could see you and Lewis were too tired for a conversation.
Lewis and you led him to the guest room that was the closest to yours, just in case.
“Just sleep, and we can talk about it in the morning, ok?” You said, smiling kindly.
“Yes, of course.”
Note: should I do part 2?
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katakaluptastrophy · 5 months
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Can we talk about Magnus in Harrow the Ninth? Because there's a tendency to paint him as this constantly cheerful figure and he's not - he's just very Fifth.
He's the only person who seems even slightly upset about the whole gun-toting horror thing:
“Did the Sleeper get them?”
“Only by assumption,” said Harrowhark, while Abigail’s dolt of a husband said, “I bloody hope so.”
“Magnus,” Abigail said, a touch disapprovingly.
“Well, if the Sleeper didn’t, that’s two maniacs with an ancient weapon and a love of blowing off faces, dear,” said Magnus.
And he's got a very low opinion of Silas:
"She won’t tell me what he said to her, just that he ‘was horrid.’”
“Cheeky little so-and-so,” said Magnus. “If he were my son, I’d give him something to think about. I’m not surprised he’s gone to ground.”
“I would hope your son might be of different character,” said his wife, half-smiling.
“Protesilaus should have biffed him.”
“It’s strange,” said Abigail, ignoring her husband’s exhortations to biffing.
Behind the jolly Jeeves and Wooster-esque talk of biffing people, let's remember that this is Magnus - who from Gideon's POV never saw a teenager he didn't want to adopt - earnestly wishing that a grown man had hit a 16 year old kid.
And when Harrow explains that she thinks she saw him jump to his death, Magnus isn't particularly sympathetic:
“We should have made him a greater priority,” said Lady Pent.
Magnus said, “I’m not certain.”
and
“We didn’t need him,” he said bracingly.
Abigail said, “We need everyone.”
“I never thought he was quite the thing.”
This "never quite the thing" line is the same one Abigail uses when she says Ianthe shouldn't have become a Lyctor and you get the sense it has a quite specific meaning on the Fifth. You get the distinct feeling Magnus is saying "good riddance" in response to a teenager's apparent suicide.
And then of course there's Magnus' conversation with Harrow as the River bubble collapses, as Harrow debates whether she should leave her body to Gideon:
She said: “If I go back, it will finally destroy her soul.”
It was Magnus who stepped forward and looked at Harrow face-to-face. And perhaps she felt that more keenly: that he was the man who had, in Gideon’s own words a lifetime ago, been nice to her cavalier. His mouth was hard now, but his eyes were as kind as they had ever been. And kindness was a knife.
He doesn't pull any punches in laying out his understanding of the situation to Harrow:
“This whole thing happened because you wouldn’t face up to Gideon dying,” he said, which was a stab as precise as any Nonius had managed. “I don’t blame you. But where would you be, right now, if you’d said: She is dead? You’re keeping her things like a lover keeping old notes, but with her death, the stuff that made her Gideon was destroyed. That’s how Lyctorhood works, isn’t it? She died. She can’t come back, even if you keep her stuffed away in a drawer you can’t look at. You’re not waiting for her resurrection; you’ve made yourself her mausoleum.”
His wife looked at Harrow’s face and murmured, “Magnus, you’ve made your point,” but he uncharacteristically ignored her.
He's trying to get through to her in a very fraught situation, but he's certainly not pulling his punches:
“You’re a smart girl, Harrowhark. You might turn some of that brain to the toughest lesson: that of grief.”
Abigail is also trying to talk her out of things, but she's much more discursive and apologetic. Magnus is kind, but it's kindness as a knife, not a cushion.
Magnus is so often written off as just a silly, goofy character, when he's more complicated than that. He's allowed to have a very real frustration with the River bubble and with Harrow, however much he does also care for her and want to help her.
And you know what, he's a CFO stuck in a horrorscape with his delighted ghost nerd wife and a bunch of soldiers. He runs with it - he cracks one of his House ordinal jokes while physically tackling a gun-toting ghost and makes a decent go at it before getting shot. But he's very much out of his comfort zone, angry, and no longer entirely held back by propriety.
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sanguineterrain · 1 year
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about a boy - e.m.
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Summary: You've never had a boy in your bed. You're not sure what you're meant to do with one.
Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader
Word count: 1.3k
Warnings/tags: none i don't think? mainly fluff and an overthinking reader (they're so me)
divider by firefly-graphics
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There's a boy in your bed.
"M&M?"
You turn your head. Eddie holds the bag of candies to you.
"Okay," you say, and take a blue M&M.
Eddie smiles, about fifteen M&Ms in his own mouth. His attention returns to the screen. You have no idea what's playing.
A boy is in your bed, and he's put a movie on, and now his thigh is pressed against yours, lean and warm.
Eddie's socks are green and have tiny yellow stars on them. He's pulled them over his jean cuffs to keep the cold away. Not that it matters when he has a sleeveless Metallica shirt on.
But Eddie doesn't seem to get cold, anyway. You went for ice cream last week even though it had snowed the night before.
Eddie had paid for your ice cream, which isn't something to look too into. Steve's paid for your ice cream before, because Steve's a nice guy. And Eddie's a nice guy too. So maybe nice people pay for ice cream. And that's all.
Your eyes trace the dip of Eddie's belly, the slice of skin that peeks out between his waistband and shirt hem. His exposed arm and neck is sprinkled with freckles and you can see the edge of the demon tattoo on his breastbone.
Your heart races. That's wrong, isn't it? Looking at Eddie like that? Hoping he'll give you more?
You don't know. You've never had a boy in your bed. There's no guidebook.
Eddie laughs at the screen. You relish in his swelled cheeks and glimpse of fanged canines. You love Eddie's smile; bright and all-encompassing. You can't help but be pulled into his orbit every time you're around him.
You ought to give Robin something for introducing the two of you. A fruit basket, or maybe Vickie Summers in a gift box.
Need curls deep in your chest as you watch Eddie sink further into your pillows. You wonder if he can feel your eyes on him. That would be embarrassing. But maybe he'd be flattered that you're looking at him; that you can't help but.
He's touchy. Affectionate. You're really not, but Eddie takes it in stride. He gives you little half-hugs instead of his usual squeeze-the-soul-out-of-you ones. He bumps your shoulder or simply walks beside you, respecting your space.
And funnily enough, through all that, you've begun to wish Eddie would touch you more.
"'M gonna get more popcorn," he says. "Y'want something else?"
You turn your head in a vain attempt to make it seem like you haven't been mooning over him like a lovesick calf.
"No, no, um, thanks. Thanks."
You cringe at your clumsy mouth. Eddie's oblivious, hopping off the bed and disappearing into the hall.
Are you even allowed to want more? You and Eddie are friends. Maybe even Good Friends, especially after the 'murderous monster tries to swallow Hawkins' crisis died down.
But you don't hang out like this. Where Eddie can see all the Polaroid pictures of trees you thought were good reasons to love the earth and of your mom and of the deer you saw once, and your sky blue wallpaper with clouds painted on it. You wonder if he thinks you're childish or silly.
Why does he even spend time with you? Are you the only one free? Was today a non-Hellfire day and that's why Eddie had agreed to come over? Nothing better to do?
You haven't the slightest idea what's happening in the movie. You should pay attention because Eddie might want to talk about it afterwards, and he'll be cross if you don't know what he's talking about.
Except, that doesn't really seem like Eddie. Still. You've never had a boy in your bed. You don't know if they expect you to pay attention to the movies they play.
You chew on a cuticle. Eddie returns in a couple minutes, climbing onto the bed with his knees. He offers you the bowl of popcorn. You shake your head.
"Everything okay, sweet thing?" he asks.
Oh, don't you just melt over that. You feel like the yellow M&M between Eddie's fingers.
"Yeah, f-fine."
You stare at the foot of space between you. Once, you'd dared to lean on the shoulder of a boy you didn't like that much. Your head hadn't stayed long on his shoulder, and afterwards, you wished you'd been struck by lightning.
What if this is like that? What if Eddie sneers at you and shuffles away. God, you can't handle that. You like this boy in your bed so much, it frightens you.
"This guy, the one in the raincoat." Eddie points. "He's one of my favorite actors. I like the way he talks. You ever get that? Liking the way someone talks?"
You look at him. Eddie looks at you. He's trying to pull you out of your head. He thinks something's worrying you. You're so anxious all the time. And Eddie knows that, so he tries to ground you. You withdraw and Eddie will call out to you and ask you questions. He always sounds lovely. Sometimes, you try to gather the courage to ask him something back. But the words remain lodged in your throat.
"Yeah, I get that." Be brave, be brave. "I like the way you talk."
You wait for lightning to strike.
"Really?" Eddie asks, sounding genuinely curious.
"Uh-huh. You have a nice voice."
Nothing. Not even a rumble of thunder.
"Sweet thing, you're gonna give me a big head," Eddie says with a grin.
He's not teasing you. Once upon a time, you might've thought he was, because it seemed like that's all people were capable of. But Eddie's not. He thinks they're nice, the words you say. You want to say more nice words. You want to keep this boy in your bed.
You also want to close this distance. Be a permanent planet in Eddie's orbit. Be brave.
You stare at that tiny foot of space between you again. You're probably being too quiet and still, and Eddie's probably worried you're stuck in your head again.
So before he can coax you out again, (because he cares about you. He cares about you, and you're just going to have to get used to that, alright?) you scoot an inch.
And another inch. And another.
You move at a glacial pace. You don't think Eddie's picked up on your little scheme. How fiendish you are, attempting to cuddle with the boy in your bed. Wicked!
Now, you're so close you can feel Eddie's body heat. His shirt looks soft and worn. You wonder what he smells like.
You move closer. Now, your chest is touching Eddie's side. He looks at you.
His eyes are dark like the blackest parts of space. If you do this and fail, those eyes might just swallow you up.
You listen for thunder, but the skies are clear.
"What's goin' on, pretty?" he murmurs.
"Do you like me?" you blurt, helpless in his pull.
Eddie's brows lift. He blinks, cocks his head.
"'Course I do, sweet thing."
"No, like." You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, then open them. "You like me enough for a movie, but do you like me enough to let me put my head on your shoulder?"
"Is that all?" he asks, eyes dancing. There's stars in them. "I like you so much, I want your head on my shoulder forever."
Cinnamon. Eddie smells like cinnamon.
You no longer wish to be struck by lightning.
"Oh," you breathe.
Eddie hums and gently taps your head with one finger.
"That what you've been thinking so hard about?" he asks.
"I've never had a boy in my bed," you say.
"'M honored to be the first."
You nod, jittery with hope. "I'm glad it's you."
And then Eddie eases you into his side. It's perfect. It feels like you're young and don't know any better. It feels like you'll never find anything else like it.
Eddie bows his head. His curls tickle your cheeks and shroud you from the rest of the world.
"And will you kiss me too?" you ask.
"As much as you want, pretty."
You think you can get used to having a boy in your bed.
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suuuupernovaaa · 1 year
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kame
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kame [ˈk·a.m·ɛ] vtr. see, see into, understand, know (spiritual sense)
Anonymous Request: Could we have something where Metkayina Reader is the chief's daughter, becomes good friends with Neteyam, and is in love with him but doesn't think he finds Metkayina women attractive because he doesn't seem interested in any of the girls, so she asks Lo'ak if he thinks she's pretty because he's also her friend but Neteyam overhears and gets upsets cause he misunderstands why she's asking? Pretty pretty please with a sweet sappy ending.
Feeling insecure about your crush on Neteyam, you ask his younger brother if he thinks Metkayina woman are attractive. Neteyam overhears and misunderstands.
1,978 words
Lo'ak and I had been sitting quietly on the beach for quite a while, watching the children play nearby as the clouds rolled in, promising rain.
As if reading my mind, Lo'ak pointed up. "Looks like rain."
I nodded. Talk of weather was nice, but what I really wanted to talk about was Lo'ak's older brother.
In the months since they'd arrived, I was unable to get Neteyam off of my mind - but I couldn't read him for the life of me. He was reserved, the oldest Sully brother, not like Lo'ak. Lo'ak wore his heart on his sleeve, lucky for my sister, who was equally enamored with the younger Sully brother.
Neteyam did not seem interested in any of the Metkayina women, and I wondered if our physical differences were unappealing to him. Was my hair too coarse, my tail too wide, my eyes too large?
It wasn't that Neteyam wasn't nice to me, I would even have considered us friends, but the possibility of more than that just didn't seem to be there.
"Lo'ak, do you find me attractive?" I asked finally.
Lo'ak turned to me sharply. "What?"
"I mean, Metkayina women. Do you think they're as pretty as your forest women? Your mother is breathtaking."
He wrinkled his nose at the statement, and then smiled.
"Yes. I think you're attractive," he replied. His reassurance should have comforted me, but it only made me more confused. If Lo'ak could find me attractive, why couldn't his brother?
"Not as attractive as my sister, though, yes?" I leaned over, a teasing smile on my face, bumping my shoulder into his.
Lo'ak sighed, the sound of a man in love. "No one is as beautiful as her."
What I wouldn't give to have Neteyam feel that way about me.
--
"Yes, I think you're attractive," Neteyam's brother said to Y/N, the woman he had been pining after for months.
Neteyam was approaching the two, planning to join them on the beach, but the snippet of their conversation he'd caught was enough to make him turn on his heels and stalk back to his mauri pod.
He felt betrayed by Lo'ak, even though he hadn't said so much as a whisper of his feelings for Y/N - mostly he felt mad for Y/N's younger sister, whom he'd thought his brother was growing close to.
Was Lo'ak to betray her? Was her own sister to betray her? Maybe Y/N was not the woman he thought she was, after all.
--
It began raining soon, and Lo'ak and I stood to leave the beach.
"I gotta ask," Lo'ak said as we walked back towards our respective homes. "Why the question - uh, about you being pretty?"
A blush heated my cheeks.
"It's Neteyam, isn't it?" he said, trying not to smile too wide. "You like Neteyam?"
I shrugged. "He doesn't seem interested, in any of the women here. I thought maybe he found us unappealing."
Lo'ak shook his head. "He's just shy. Give him time."
I wasn't so sure. We parted ways with a friendly goodbye, and I returned to my family for the evening with much to think about.
--
The next morning, the clouds had cleared and the day was beautiful. I set out early with Tsireya at my mother's request - she was wary of Lo'ak, and wanted Tsireya supervised at all times.
"I think Lo'ak is a nice young man," I told her as we waded into the water. "We had a nice talk last night."
She smiled, ear to ear, her beautiful smile. I had always wished I had Tsireya's sunny disposition and kind heart - she was a joy to everyone who knew her.
"What did you talk about?"
I looked away, blushing a little. "Neteyam."
She gasped, reaching out to grab my arm. "You like Lo'ak's brother?" She giggled with excitement.
"I asked Lo'ak if the women here were appealing to him. Of course, I know you are beautiful to Lo'ak, but I wondered if Neteyam maybe... thought I was ugly."
Tsireya gasped. "Y/N, you must never speak like that again. You are exceedingly beautiful, as well as smart, skilled, our fastest swimmer-"
I cut her off before she could continue on. "Sister, please."
"Well, it's true!" she replied forcefully. "If Neteyam does not like you, he's a moron."
We giggled together. Talking with my sister always made me feel better, no matter the issue.
--
Later that day, I happened upon Neteyam alone - as I had been looking for him nearly all day. Tsireya had given me the confidence I needed to try and really talk to him.
"Neteyam!" I called when I found him, swimming just off shore as I stood on the beach.
He raised one hand and waved to me, and began his approach. I stood waiting, fidgeting nervously with my hands as he came towards me at what felt like a snail's pace.
He shook his hair when he exited the water, and as usual, I was overcome with his beauty.
"Hello," Neteyam nodded, somewhat formally.
"I need to talk to you," I said quickly.
He cocked his head to the side. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong. I just... need to tell you something, and I have the courage to tell you now, but I probably won't later."
Neteyam shook his head. "I already know."
I took a step back in surprise. "You do?"
Did Lo'ak tell him? He wouldn't do that to me - he was my friend.
"I do. I have to say, Y/N, I thought better of you."
That was... not the response I was expecting. In fact, it didn't make sense at all. Me having feelings for him made him think less of me?
"Neteyam, I... what?"
"I thought you cared for your sister, and you know how she feels about Lo'ak." He was angry, his teeth gritted, his eyes narrowed. He was angry at me.
"Neteyam, what are you talking about?"
He scoffed. "I heard you at Lo'ak last night, him telling you how beautiful you are. How could the two of you do that to Tsireya?"
I had never seen Neteyam so angry, certainly not at me. He had heard a part of our conversation last night and assumed the absolutely worst - that I would betray my most beloved sister.
Tears filled my eyes. "I can't believe you would think this of me." Before I could embarrass myself any further, I turned and ran back home to cry in my father's arms.
--
He had expected to feel better after confronting Y/N, but she hadn't reacted the way Neteyam expected. Instead of feeling self-righteous, Neteyam felt confused and guilty as he returned home.
He sat silently at dinner, and though his family asked what was wrong, he shrugged them off.
He couldn't quite explain it.
"I can't believe you would think this of me."
What did she mean by that? He had heard her and Lo'ak's conversation with his own ears.
Speaking of, just as the sun was setting less than an hour later, Lo'ak entered the tent - and he was angry.
"Neteyam, you fucking idiot!" he yelled, in front of the entire family.
"Whoa, whoa!" Jake stood up in an instant, followed by Neteyam, and placed himself between the boys to avoid escalation.
"You... you fucking idiot!" Lo'ak yelled again.
"Mad that I caught you?" Neteyam asked, spitting out the words like daggers.
"You know nothing! You broke her heart, do you know that?" Lo'ak yelled.
"Stop this, now!" their mother demanded. "Explain." She turned to Neteyam first.
"Everyone knows that Tsireya is in love with Lo'ak, but last night on the beach, he was telling her sister how beautiful she is. I heard it with my own years!"
Neteyri's eyes widened in shock, and she turned to her younger son.
"Lo'ak, is this true?"
"No!" Lo'ak shouted. "Well, yes, but that's not what happened."
"Lower your voice, and explain," Neytiri said calmly.
"She asked because she thought this idiot," he gestured to Neteyam, "didn't think Metkayina women were beautiful. She wasn't asking if I thought she was attractive - she was asking if we could find her, all the women here, as beautiful as the women from back home. Because she likes you, you idiot!"
"Stop calling your brother names," Jake demanded, stepping from in-between his sons, but that was where his advice ended - this seemed like a conversation for their mother.
"He went and accused her of betraying her sister, and she's been crying all night. Tsireya came to tell me, because you need to fix it."
Lo'ak's words were like a knife in Neteyam's chest. He could picture Y/N's face on the beach, how crushed she had been, and he had never felt more guilty or regretful in his life.
He couldn't believe the things he'd believed about her, and said directly to her. He put his face in his hands and sighed.
"Shit," he whispered.
"You must go apologize, now. She is the chief's daughter. You go make peace," his mother insisted, grabbing his arm. "Come. We go now."
"Mom!" Neteyam said, but there was no getting around it - his mother was going to march him over to apologize to the woman he loved.
--
After my embarrassing display of emotion early - which was very out of character for me - my father would not let me further than a foot away from him. We sat, eating together, with his arm around my shoulders.
Every so often he would mutter something like, "Idiot boy," or "hideous moron" and I had to admit, it helped.
He finally let me go to clean up after dinner, and Tsireya gave my arm a squeeze as she joined to help.
"I am sorry for the intrusion," someone said at the entrance to our mauri, and we all turned to look. Standing there was Neteyam, his mother holding his arm. "My son owes your daughter an apology."
"Oh no," I whispered under my breath, meeting eyes with Tsireya.
My parents locked eyes with each other. I could tell they both wanted to rip poor Neteyam's throat out, but after a moment, they nodded with each other.
"Hear the boy out," my mother said, bending down to grab my arm. "You will return soon."
"Yes, mother," I nodded, and followed Neteyam and his mother out of the tent.
Neytiri followed us down to the beach, but then broke away, leaving us completely alone in the moonlight.
We stood, staring out at the water for a long, awkward moment.
Finally, Neteyam spoke.
"Never in my life have I been such a fool, or hurt someone I care about so deeply. I was overtaken by jealousy when I heard you and my brother talking, and I assumed the worst. I know you may not be able to forgive me, but I will never stop being sorry."
Tears filled my eyes again, but I couldn't form a reply.
"You should know that I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on. I have been mesmerized by you since the moment we arrived. You are all I think about, day and night. My biggest regret is that I did not tell you that, every single day. If I had, we would have avoided all this. I see you, Y/N. I see you."
Neteyam reached up, brushing a tear from my cheek, and I leaned my face into his palm.
He took a sharp breath in.
"I see you, and I forgive you, Neteyam," I said finally. Continuing to be angry at Neteyam, now that I knew how he felt, seemed like an impossible task. "And I would kiss you now, but I think both our mothers are watching."
A smile spread across his lips, and he bent down to hover his lips just above mine. "I do not care."
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