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makoodles · 10 months

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ミ the mightiest

part 1 | part 2

🍓 pairing: neteyam x human fem reader 🍓tags: nsfw, aged up neteyam (obviously), jealousy, alien cultural misunderstandings, oral sex (f receiving) vaginal sex, size kink, voyeurism, brief na'vi oc x reader, mentions of reader sleeping with other na'vi men

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reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

notes: okay i had to split this into two parts because it surpassed the tumblr word limit 🙃 here’s part 1, and I’ll post part 2 in a day or two!

adult neteyam art created by the incredibly talented @cinetrix, whose work motivated me to write for adult neteyam in the first place!!

The tsahìk’s hut is cool and dark, offering a much needed reprieve from the hot balmy air of the day outside. It’s been a quiet day for you, though you can’t complain about that; it’s a pleasant change of pace from the usual hectic rush of people that usually pass through.

It’s one of the rare days that Mo’at has left you to tend to the duties of the healing hut alone; it had taken years to reach this level of trust with her, and you find yourself almost deliriously proud to be able to help out. Na’vi medicinal practices are very different to human ones, but your training in first-aid has given you enough knowledge and experience to hold your own when it comes to helping out with the smaller day-to-day ailments that tend to pass through the healing hut.

Besides, you’re always happy to give Mo’at a break. She had claimed that she needed time to commune with Eywa, though secretly you suspect that she just likes to take some time to herself in her old age. But that’s fine – you’ve always found helping out in the healing hut soothing, and your heart swells at the fact that Mo’at trusts you enough to leave you in charge, even if it’s only for a few hours.

It also helps when your patient is a big, hunky alien warrior with more muscles than brains, who sits in front of you as you smear a herbal paste over the scratches he had gotten in training earlier that day.

Txeyto is not an easy patient; he flinches when you prod his wounds, whines when you clean them, and complains as you smear the paste on his scrapes. It’s a little irritating, but the sight of his big broad shoulders and chiselled abdomen is enough to soothe the worst of your aggravation.

“Are you nearly finished?” Txeyto complains, flinching away from your fingers once more.

You bite your tongue and force a smile. Patience has never been your strong suit, and Txeyto is certainly testing the short reserves you have left. But he’s very handsome, and very skilled at archery, and you feel that his physical attractiveness outweighs the minor personality flaws.

“Yes, just another few moments.” You murmur, keeping your voice low and soothing as though speaking to a child.

Txeyto settles a little when you use the baby voice on him, and you struggle to keep your face blank at the ridiculousness of it all. Men are such children, even the big strong Na’vi warriors that should be above such behaviour. He’s lucky he’s handsome.

“How did you get these injuries, hm?” You ask, using a light touch to dab some of Mo’at’s specially formulated healing paste onto his scrapes. You keep your fingers as gentle as possible, but Txetyo still winces dramatically.

He perks up at your question, his tails swaying low over the floor where you’re both sat cross-legged. “I have been training very hard. I am one of the best archers in the village now.”

“No doubt.” You murmur distractedly as you work.

“But it is important for a tsamsiyu to be competent in many forms of combat, so I must practice my hand-to-hand combat also,” Txetyo continues, apparently forgetting to wince now that he’s talking. “Neteyam has been helping me train.”

Ah. You can’t help the face you make at that, and you’re thankful that Txeyto’s back is facing you so that he can’t see your expression. You also can’t help the way you cast a quick glance towards the entrance to the hut, as though worried that simply speaking the name aloud will summon Toruk Makto’s eldest son.

“Is that right?” You say, keeping your tone carefully neutral. “So, he’s the one that got you all scraped up like this?”

Txetyo’s shoulders flex under your hands, and you realise without looking at his face that you’ve stung his pride.

“I scraped him up also.” He grumbles, shifting to try and peer over his shoulder. “They are wounds to be proud of, as I got them in combat.”

You don’t think that a couple of minor scratches from wrestling around in the mud with one of the village’s biggest dickheads count as combat wounds, but you don’t argue. You just hum non-committedly, paying more attention to his bruises than is entirely necessary.

“You should be careful,” You say instead, running your fingers carefully over one of the bruises discolouring the pretty blue skin of his defined bicep. “It’s a shame to see these lovely muscles all bruised up.”

There’s a long moment’s pause. It seems as though the cogs in Txetyo’s head are working slowly, because he seems to be struggling to understand your flirty tone of voice. But when it finally seems to click, he turns his head to peer at you with wide, curious eyes.

“Ah,” He says, his shoulders squaring as he seems to preen. “You like them?”

God, he really is a little dumb. But that’s okay. You don’t necessarily need a man with brains.

“Mhmm,” You hum, allowing your hand to rest on the bulge of his bicep. “I like strong men.”

That’s true, if a little bit of an oversimplification. You’ve lived as a human on Pandora your whole life, but it was only in recent years since you’ve reached adulthood that you’ve started really paying attention to the people around you. And good lord, you had some impressive specimens to look at.

You find yourself drawn to their athletic and toned bodies, their radiant blue skin, their cat-like grace and agility. Maybe it’s because you had grown up on Pandora with no humans your age other than Spider, but you find yourself especially drawn to your size. The sheer size of their hands alone are enough to fluster you, especially when your brain is flooded with images of those big hands in other contexts.

And luckily for you, there’s no shortage of Na’vi that are interested in experimenting with humans, too.

Txetyo visibly perks up, his ears twitching forward as he finally seems to notice the way your much smaller hands are lingering on his body as you patch him up.

“I am very strong.” He says, tail thumping against the ground.

You fight the urge to sigh. He’ll never make a great conversationalist, but that’s alright. He’s big and strong and handsome, and you just want to relieve some tension.

“I know.” You murmur, your lips quirking a little as you shuffle around so that you’re kneeling in front of him, your knees pressed close to his thighs. “But I could still kiss your scratches better, if you’d like.”

Kissing wounds better is definitely a human colloquialism that Txetyo doesn’t understand, judging by the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t seem to care. He reaches out and wraps a big hand around your waist, and you feel a pulse of arousal low in your belly in response.

“You like my muscles so much that treating my wounds has aroused you?” He asks, the smugness in his voice impossible to miss.

His pompousness is a little irritating, but you can ignore that because his hands are big and warm and it’s exciting to feel his palm start to push its way under your cotton tank top. The few Na’vi men you’ve been with before had been absolutely fascinated with the soft squishiness of your human breasts, so your breath hitches in anticipation as his hand reaches up to grope at your tits over your bra.

Okay, you can probably admit that you’re a little pent up. It’s probably a terrible idea to allow Txetyo to feel you up like this in the middle of the healing hut, but you’re horny.

If you’re telling the truth, you’ve been hoping for a chance like this all week – but there’s one thing, one irritation, that has been preventing you by interrupting every damn chance you’ve gotten alone with any man.

In fact, you’ve been interrupted so often and so many times that you’re almost expecting it, even as Txetyo’s big hands squeeze at your tits. He’s a little rough with it, but he’s so much bigger than you that you suppose that’s unavoidable – besides, his strength only adds to the thrill.

Then, just like clockwork, as though there’s some kind of sensor that goes off whenever you’re about to get some, there’s a rustling sound by the entrance of the hut before the little woven drape covering the doorway is pulled back.

And then, who else would be standing there, but Neteyam. One of the few people on the whole planet that can actually ruin your whole day just by showing his stupid face.

His eyes find you, but his expression doesn’t change as he glances over your flustered expression and the hand that Txetyo still has shoved up your top. He tilts his head, and it feels as though he’s examining every damn detail all at once; the ointment smeared all over Txetyo’s bruises from training, the way you’ve shuffled so close to Txetyo that you’re practically straddling his thigh, your unsteady breathing behind your mask.

“Ah. Am I interrupting?” He asks with a hint of wry humour to his voice, as though he hasn’t interrupted every attempt at getting laid you’ve made this month.

It has to be on purpose. That, or he has some sort of nearly supernatural sense for when you’re horny, because he always seems to show up every goddamned time. Somehow it’s gotten worse in the last few weeks, too. You’ve barely been able to get a moment alone with whoever you’ve been chatting up before Neteyam has appeared, snapping at them to get back to training or duties or whatever lousy excuse he’s been able to come up with in the moment.

“What do you want?” You snap, impatient and too strung tight to waste your energy on pretending at politeness.

A very delayed reaction finally hits Txetyo, and he scrambles to remove his hand from the inside of your top. His hand alone is so large that the outline of it is painfully obvious even through your shirt, and you close your eyes with a sigh as he clumsily pushes himself away from you in a rather ungainly attempt at pretending nothing was going on.

“Neteyam!” He blurts, his ears flattening against his skull. He’s clearly mortified at being caught in such a position by Toruk Makto’s son, and he overcompensates by attempting to scoot away as though he hadn’t even been touching you.

You try not to roll your eyes – you’re used to this, after all. You’ve been with several Na’vi men, but they all seem to have the same sort of embarrassment about actually being open with the fact that they’ve hooked up with you. You can’t be all that annoyed about it, you suppose. You understand where it’s coming from. You’ve been around the Omaticaya your whole life, and while the taboo of having Sky People around has faded somewhat, that doesn’t mean that anyone is actually willing to admit that they’ve been with you.

You’re used to it. It’s fine. You’re just a little mortified that Neteyam is currently witnessing the scramble for Txetyo to get away from you.

He’s watching the other man with his head still tilted to the side, his big golden eyes dark in the cool shade of the hut. A muscle in his jaw is flexing, like he’s trying not to laugh.

“I will- I will see you later?” Txetyo whispers to you as he stands. He probably intended for his voice to be low enough that it stayed between just you and him, but the hut is quiet enough that there’s no doubt Neteyam can hear him just fine.

“Mhm. Yeah.” You murmur back, watching Txetyo’s big broad back as he steps away from you, all hasty and flustered.

Txetyo gets as far as Neteyam, who’s still standing with his arms crossed in the doorway. Neteyam doesn’t so much as shift, his eyes dragging with lazy satisfaction over the myriad of scrapes and bruises that he had left on Txetyo during their sparring earlier.

Txetyo shifts on his feet, visibly nervous in the face of his future chief’s judgement. “Ah… Will we train again tomorrow, Neteyam?”

Neteyam hums non-committedly, before finally stepping away from the doorway. He brushes past Txetyo, and you wonder if he’s always so dismissive of his fellow warriors or if he’s just being an even bigger dickhead today for some reason.

“We will see.” Neteyam says shortly, though he’s not even looking Txetyo’s way.

Taking that as the dismissal it so clearly is, Txetyo nods awkwardly before disappearing out of the hut, leaving you and Neteyam alone.

For a long moment, you do your best to avoid looking up. You’re beyond irritated right now, made so much worse by the fact that your panties are kind of wet and you’re so fucking desperate for attention right now. The little wooden bowls knock together clumsily as you try to arrange them without looking up, but it becomes difficult when Neteyam lowers himself down to sit opposite you.

“The tsahìk’s hut is a bold place for such activities.” He says, and you don’t have to look up to know that there’s a stupid smug look on his face. “What would my grandmother think?”

As he sits down, he places a woven bag by your knee. You don’t need to look at it to know what it is; he’s always bringing stuff to the healing hut for his grandmother. Herbs or medicinal plants, fibres for weaving bandages, even animal bones that he had whittled down for needles for suturing.

Even you can grudgingly admit it’s thoughtful; but he only ever seems to bring it when you’re around. It’s like he just wants to rub it in your face that he excels at everything he does – it’s extremely annoying.

You finally look up, your face already scrunched in a scowl. “What do you want?”

He raises his hairless brows at you, an expression he no doubt learned from his father. “I would like my cuts from training treated. What else would I be here for?”

And now you know that he’s just messing with you, because while Txetyo was covered in bruises and abrasions from his tough training session earlier, Neteyam doesn’t have a single visible scratch.

“What exactly am I supposed to treat?” You ask, voice tight.

Neteyam shifts, proffering you his shoulder, and you see a single scrape along his otherwise flawless striped blue skin. You purse your lips, staring at it in mild disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.” You say, deadpan.

But it’s clear that Neteyam is serious, because he’s already stretching out on the comfy woven rugs of his grandmother’s hut as if he belongs there. It’s obvious that he has no intention of moving – he must have come here just to torture you.

You blow out a frustrated breath, the inside of your respirator mask fogging up briefly before rapidly clearing. Neteyam is infuriating. He gets under your skin in a way that no one else does, as though he knows every goddamn little button to press just to aggravate you.

Maybe it’s just a by-product of having been raised as next in line to lead the Omaticaya, or of being Toruk Makto’s oldest son, but you’ve always found Neteyam closed off and distant.

Truthfully, you can’t say for certain if he’s always been this way. When you were young teenagers, you hadn’t had much contact with him; he was always busy with his own training, and then the whole Sully family had left for Awa’atlu. When they had returned, several years later, Neteyam had been more reserved, and yet somehow even cockier and more confident than ever.

“I don’t understand you. There’s no need for you to get this scrape seen to, and you know it. You just like wasting my time.”

He just watches you as you complain, his eyes hooded and dark in a way that honestly leaves you a little heated. He doesn’t deny it, which only irritates you further. You knew he was just trying to annoy you!

“It’s your job to treat wounds when you’re here, isn’t it?” He asks, and you can see the way his tail is lazily undulating behind him, skimming across the woven carpet. He’s enjoying arguing with you.

You huff out a put-upon sigh, before grabbing two of the jars. The ointment is naturally antiseptic but it goes on with quite a sting; you try not to feel satisfied about that as you coat your fingers in it before dabbing it onto the scrape on Neteyam’s shoulder. You’re not as gentle as you’d usually be either, your patience is too thin for you to be considerate with him right now.

But this is not Txetyo. This is Neteyam, and he doesn’t so much as flinch as you rub the paste over his still sluggishly bleeding scratch, even though you know it must sting. You try not to feel irked by his stoicism.

As you work, Neteyam’s head rolls back. In a move that’s almost imperceptible, his nostrils flare and he scents the air. You assume it’s the fairly astringent scent of the herbal paste you’ve just pulled out that’s bothering him, and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Problem?”

His lips quirk, though he manages to keep his expression neutral. “No. I am simply enjoying being under your tender care.”

You narrow your eyes at him. He’s mocking you now.

The fact that he had walked in on Txetyo’s hand up your top as he groped at your tits feels like a heavy unspoken weight in between you as you dab at his minor wound. You keep waiting for him to bring it up, to laugh at you for it, but he remains stubbornly quiet as you work, his golden eyes watching you in quiet contemplation.

In fact, he’s never brought up any of the times he’s interrupted you right before you got with someone. He’s caught you in varying levels of undress, with Na’vi men over you, under you, holding you, touching you, kissing you, but somehow just before anything good actually happened. Every time the men had scrambled away from you as though you were something diseased, mortified at being caught with a tawtute by Neteyam, a man that (for some reason you can’t comprehend) they seem to have an awful lot of respect for.

In the beginning, you were inclined to come up with excuses for him; he was Jake Sully’s oldest son, and was inevitably going to keep track of his peers and where they disappeared off to when they had duties that they should be attending to. But now, you think he’s doing it to spite you specifically. It might be a bit of a self-centred thing to believe, but you’re almost certain of it.

You shift on your knees beside him, raising yourself up a little to ensure that you’ve covered all parts of his scrape. You don’t want him returning tomorrow to complain that you didn’t do a good job.

You have to bite back another sigh as you do so, your thighs rubbing together in a way that sends a sharp jolt up your spine. You’re horny and needy and so, so resentful of the fact that you’re now treating the same man that’s the direct cause of your state right now.

Neteyam’s attitude wasn’t the only thing that changed in his time away, however. You have to keep your eyes fixed carefully on his bruising shoulder, because if you didn’t you know that your gaze would wander, and that’s a dangerous game to be playing in the presence of someone as perceptive as Neteyam.

But it’s difficult not to look. Time and ocean air has been kind to him; he’s grown as tall as his father, and whatever sort of training or work he had been doing with the Metkayina has resulted in broader shoulders and a more sturdy build than is typical of the Omaticaya. It’s galling to admit, and makes you feel as though you’ve eaten something sour and unpleasant, but Neteyam is hot as hell.

He might be aggravating and smug and too cocky, but no one in their right mind could deny that he’s attractive. Not even you. Especially you, if you’re being honest with yourself, considering your penchant for enormous blue alien men that could snap you in two with a pinkie if they felt so inclined.

God, you really have to think about something else. You’re so wet that your panties are starting to get uncomfortable, so you focus determinedly on the resentment that’s still simmering over the fact that Neteyam had interrupted what was promising to be a very productive encounter with Txetyo.

Neteyam shuffles a little where he’s sitting in front of you, and your eyes track the way his muscles bunch and shift under his vibrant blue skin. Damn, but seeing Na’vi musculature up close never gets old, even if it’s Neteyam.

You’re almost finished with dabbing paste on the tiny scrape (and you hate to admit that it had taken you longer than it should have due to your distraction), when Neteyam half-turns his head towards you.

“My back is sore, also.” He murmurs, though his eyes remain downcast.

You pause, staring at him. “Okay. And?”

There’s a moment where the two of you just look expectantly at each other. When nothing comes of that, Neteyam speaks again.

“You are playing healer today, are you not?” He asks, and his left ear twitches oddly. “Or is your attention all reserved for Txetyo, hm?”

Your cheeks heat in humiliation and your jaw clenches. You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself from making some sort of stupid comment.

“Lay down.” You snap, prickly and embarrassed.

“Yes ma’am.” Neteyam purrs, probably all satisfied that he’s gotten under your skin. He reclines, all of those lithe muscles flexing and bunching as he rolls over onto his stomach.

You grab another pot of ointment, and then take a moment to steady yourself.

You know that he’s winding you up on purpose, just like always, but you can never figure out why. He doesn’t treat you like any of the other men in the village do – they might enjoy fucking you, but they’re rarely caught dead in public with you, worried about what it might mean for their own reputations.

Neteyam is bolder, more confident; though the burden of responsibility that he carries is unmistakable, he never seems to get caught up with the petty whispering and musings of the village people. It’s just unfortunate that he seems so set on bothering you.

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes drop mindlessly over the expanse of his long, pretty back. His skin is stretched tight over lithe muscle, little luminescent white freckles glinting like little stars. He looks so smooth, though the flawlessness of his body is marred by thick pale scars that litter his skin, courtesy of the near legendary battle with the RDA that you hear happened off the coast of Awa’atlu.

You glance down, flustered. Fuck. It would be so much easier to hate him if he wasn’t physically perfect.

“Problem?” Neteyam’s voice is a little lower in register than it was before, perhaps because he’s lying on his stomach with his head pillowed under his crossed arms.

You twitch. Shit. You had gotten distracted, and had lost yourself staring at him.

“No. Shut up.” You blurt reflexively, dipping your fingers into the oily ointment used for easing sore muscles.

Neteyam huffs quietly, a sound that could be a grunt or a laugh, but doesn’t bother responding. It makes you feel as though you’ve lost a game you didn’t know you were playing.

Antsy and on edge, you lean forward and survey his strong back properly. When he's laying out in front of you like this you can see the way his back is knotted with tension and his shoulders are hiked up around his ears. It doesn't look too bad, but it can't be comfortable either.

You take one more moment to admire the musculature of his shoulders, before gathering yourself and dipping your fingers into the ointment. It's balmy against your fingers and smells a little bit like blueberries, and begins to tingle when your hand is entirely coated.

"Where does it hurt most?" You ask, your voice quiet.

In the silence, you can hear Neteyam’s throat click when he swallows.

"My neck and shoulders." When he speaks, his voice is a little deeper than expected.

The very first touch to Neteyam’s back pulls a quiet sigh out of him; it sounds like relief.

Considering his size, it takes surprisingly little to have him melting under your hands. Your fingers spread under his scapula, finding a knot in the muscle and pressing in hard. It takes a bit of finagling, but after some firm pressure you feel the muscle begin to soften beneath your touch.

Gaining confidence, you return your kneading fingers to his neck. He really is terribly tense, and shivering spasms flit up and down the muscles of his back in regular intervals as you drag the warm palms of your hands over him. As your fingers work into his tense muscles, he lets out quiet little grunts that are muffled by the cradle of his arms.

“Why were you so hard on Txetyo during training?” You ask as your fingers dig into the tense tissue of his back. Your voice is unintentionally loud in the quiet of the hut. “He looked as though he had been attacked by a thanator when he was here earlier.”

Neteyam just grunts. “Txetyo is an overconfident skxawng. He is not nearly as skilled as he thinks he is.”

You click your tongue, dissatisfied with that answer. “I could say the same about you.”

Just like all your attempts to insult him, your words seem to bounce right off him. Stupid thick-skinned bastard. His pretty mouth tilts up in a smile.

“I have the skills to back it up, paskalin.”

Your lips purse at the name, your cheeks hot. God, he’s such an asshole.

When you exert pressure as you run your fingers down his spine, Neteyam grunts softly into his arms. The sound is startling in the quiet, interrupting the steady rhythm of your quiet breathing.

"Does that hurt?" You ask. Your voice comes out a little shakier than you’d like.

"No." Neteyam’s voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble. The sound of it almost startles you into snatching your hands away, but you manage to refrain yourself. "Keep going."

You just swallow thickly, and try to keep yourself on task. “He just wants to be better. He was excited to train with you–”

“Lower.” Neteyam groans, shifting under your hands.

You clench your teeth. Really, you should probably just walk away from him. There’s no real need for you to be doing any of this. He’s not even injured, and who knows whether he’s telling the truth about his back being tense.

But you’re stupid, and you’ve never been good at walking away, from either fighting or fucking. This strange encounter feels as though it lies somewhere in the middle of those two things. Your palms drag down to his lower back, and he flinches briefly before melting under your touch.

His body is so big that it’s difficult to get a good angle to knead properly at his tense muscles, and before you can think too hard about it you swing your leg over his hips. You settle back, perching your weight cautiously at the base of his spine.

It's a braver move than you would usually make, but you try not to second-guess yourself — like this, you have so much more leverage to rub at the rigid sinews of his back. You drag your knuckles down the length of his spine and he groans into the cradle of his arms.

You try to ignore the excited flutter in your belly. It’s just Neteyam. You’re not actually getting turned on from this; the only reason you’re so affected is because you had been horny with Txetyo. You shift where you’re sitting on his back, but you have to force yourself still almost immediately, because the friction nearly makes your lungs seize.

“Comfortable?” Neteyam murmurs, and you can hear amusement in his voice.

“Shut up.” You say reflexively, before scowling. “I can’t believe you interrupted me and Txetyo just for this. You have, like, one bruise–”

“It’s a very sore bruise.” He murmurs lazily, sounding unbothered. “Do you think squeezing your tits might help? That seemed to help Txetyo feel better.”

You pause, jaw dropping in indignation. “I– shut up!”

Neteyam makes a noise that sounds like a snicker, and you dig your fingers down the planes of his back vengefully. His waist narrows into an elegant taper, and when you reach the part of his back where his ass begins to swell, you exert firm pressure against the base of his tail.

If you had done it to a human, you know it would have hurt. But instead the tightness of the muscle unfurls under your fingers, and Neteyam gives a long, low groan. The sound is delightfully gravelly, and you take a breath as you feel molten heat ooze down into your belly and settle between your legs. It’s not a reaction you had been expecting.

You sit back onto his lower back, avoiding his tail. From here, you have a truly captivating view of how slick his back looks from the ointment, and how his skin glows in the dim light of the hut. His body really is perfect, and your eyes track over the taut shiny scars that litter his skin.

“Mmm. May I get up? Or do you want to sit on me a little while longer?” Neteyam’s low voice breaks you out of your stupor, and you’re horrified to find that you’ve just been sitting there with your wet panties pressed against his back beneath your thin shorts.

You scramble off him quickly, flustered and clumsy. It had been a bold move to straddle him in the first place, and now you feel very stupid about it.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You blurt, just to say something into the silence.

“Why are we still talking about Txetyo?” Neteyam has always been a relatively tolerant and even-keeled man, but you can hear irritation beginning to bubble up in his voice.

“Because–” You start to say, but then Neteyam rolls over so that he’s laying on his back.

Now that he's lying on his back, stretched out all long and lithe, your eyes rove over his face and then down his throat, his chest, his stomach, his hips. Your eyes catch on the protrusion between his legs and stick there, your mouth dropping open in surprise when you see that his loincloth is tented.

“Because- he… you were too–” You try valiantly to finish your sentence, but your thoughts have scattered to the wind.

He’s hard. Why the fuck is he hard? Is that just from you rubbing his back? Oh my god, what are you supposed to say? It feels like his hard-on is staring at you.

Neteyam pushes himself up into a sitting position, his hands planted on the woven rug behind him as he pushes himself up so that he’s sitting looming over you. Once he’s upright, Neteyam flexes his shoulders and groans slightly as he goes. It doesn't sound like a pained groan, thankfully.

The movement brings him closer to you than you had been expecting, and you end up freezing. Like this, you can see the way his expression has smoothed into one of relief. His shoulders are looser too, no longer held bunched up around his neck.

Neteyam doesn't seem to notice your close proximity, nor the way you have tensed at the lack of space between them. You’re not touching, but you’re so close that you swear you can physically feel the air between you.

“If Txetyo is so upset about being beaten by me in training, then he should focus on getting better instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs and trying to screw you in a corner of my grandmother’s hut.”

You gape at him like an absolute idiot, floored by the acerbity in his tone. You’ve always thought Neteyam was a bit of a dickhead, but that was mostly because of his nearly insufferable need to always be the best. Always the best warrior, the best son, the best brother, the best future Olo’eyktan. The best role model to his peers.

“So that’s what this is about.” You say, your voice coming out distinctly accusatory. “You don’t like that your friends are fucking a human, is that it?”

Neteyam doesn’t even bother answering. He just rolls his now loosened shoulders and watches you carefully. He doesn't tell you to back off, or wrinkle his nose at you, or act as though he's repulsed by you. He just stares at you across the miniscule space between you, and that only angers you further.

“Is that why you keep interrupting whenever I’m with any of the other tsamsiyu?” You demand, fists clenching. “What, you don’t like that your friends find a tawtute attractive? Is that why you keep cockblocking me?”

Neteyam huffs a quiet snort, as though he thinks you’re being stupid.

“I hear what some of the Na’vi in the village say, about how it’s shameful to be with a tawtute.” You hiss. “I just didn’t think you’d be one of them.”

And if you’re honest with yourself, it sort of hurts. Neteyam has always gotten on your nerves with his confusing mix of overconfidence and jagged insecurities, and he had really infuriated you when he had started to interrupt all of those illicit little meetups you had planned with some of the boys in the village, but you hadn’t actually thought that he had any disdain for you like some of the other Na’vi.

And then you do something so stupid that it shocks even you.

Your eyes drop back down to the tent in his tewng, eyeing it thoughtfully, before reaching out and running your fingers over the hardened outline of his cock through the fabric with purpose.

Neteyam hisses, and his hips actually lift off the floor in an attempt to follow your touch.

“God, you’re a hypocrite, aren’t you?” You breathe, fighting to keep your voice casual. “How can you judge your friends for fucking around with me when you’re this hard after just a backrub?”

“They’re not my friends.” Neteyam grunts, his jaw clenching as his head tilts back. His hips rock into your hand.

Your touch goes firmer, and then your hand slips under his loincloth. You’ve had plenty of sexual encounters with Na’vi men, but this is different.

This is Neteyam. This encounter feels like proving a point. A very sexually charged point.

His cock is silky smooth and hot to the touch, and you feel a little drunk as your fingers close around it. And damn, it feels big. All Na’vi cocks are big compared to your hands, but this… feels different. You were aroused anyway, you’ve been feeling pent up all damn week, but now that your hand is on his dick your nerves are fizzing up.

It’s a surprise when Neteyam’s big hand settles on your waist to tug you closer, and you feel your stomach swoop when he pulls you forward. You don’t release his cock even as he pulls you to settle over one of his thighs, your legs slotted in between his, and you can feel him harden even further beneath you.

You wonder absently if it's really you that's causing his very obvious arousal or if it's just a natural consequence of the massage; either way, when his hips flex up towards you, they press right in between your legs.

You shiver almost violently, the sensation of him pressing hot and hard against your core frying your nerves and wiping your thoughts clean. The part of your brain that had been screaming about what a bad idea this whole thing is has become muffled now, and your own hips jerk against his.

“You’re such an asshole,” You say, though your voice comes out reedy and breathless. “You of all people don’t have a right to talk shit about those guys just cause they’re into humans, especially when your cock is this hard, and especially considering where your dad came from–”

He lets out a soft, quiet noise as you move against him, and uses his grip on the back of your top to pull you tighter against him yet again. “Don’t talk about my father when you have my cock in your hand.”

It takes what feels like a monumental effort to wrench your hand away from him, and he lets out a wordless grunt of dissatisfaction as his hips twitch in an effort to follow your hand. It’s delightfully pathetic, and you feel your ego swell at the sheer sense of power that washes over you; it’s a rare feeling, especially when you’re faced with a big blue alien almost twice your size.

“You should apologise to Txetyo.” You sound like an out of breath idiot. “It’s not like you can judge him for being with a tawtute when you’re that hard from me just touching you.”

Neteyam just stares at you, his jaw clenching and his honey eyes dark as he takes several breaths through his nose. You’ve never seen him like this before; you’ve never seen any of the men you’ve been with like this before. It looks as though he’s holding onto a thin veneer of control, and you wonder if he’s angry with you, if you’ve perhaps pushed him too far.

“That was never the issue.” He says and fuck, his voice has gone so gravelly. “And don’t pretend that you’re not wet beneath those clothes of yours. I can smell it.”

Your thighs squeeze together as you swallow hard, struggling to maintain your aura of indifference and no doubt failing.

“That’s because of Txetyo.” You say, and it tastes like a lie on your tongue. “You interrupted us.”

Neteyam laughs quietly and humourlessly. His expression suggests that he doesn’t find anything about this conversation funny, and his hand is still splayed across your back. You’re so damn conscious of how big his palm is as it spreads across your spine. Why the hell hasn’t he let go of you yet?

“Ah, I see.” Neteyam murmurs. “You would have fucked him in my grandmother’s hut?”

Your mouth is so damn dry, and you swallow compulsively. “It’s not any of your business who I fuck.”

Neteyam’s smile is grim. “Txetyo would fuck his own shadow if he were nimble enough to catch it. You have terrible taste in men.”

You rear back. You’re surprised by how much that hurts. Living as a human on Pandora is lonely, and it’s not like you have people lining up outside the human outpost looking to spend time with you. If you want any sort of companionship or intimacy, you have to accept any attention that you can get. And sure, most of that attention comes from men that only want to get their dicks wet, or the experience of being with a tawtute, but it’s better than nothing at all.

“Well, we can’t all be the Olo’eyktan’s son.” You say, your voice stiff and cold. “We don’t all have countless suitors throwing themselves at our feet. Some of us have to accept attention from whoever’s interested.”

Neteyam’s expression shifts, an odd look appearing in his eyes, and your stomach swoops. You don’t think you could bear to see pity in his eyes, so you pull away from him, shaking his hands off.

“Your scratch is fine.” You say, your voice thin and a little thready. “You’re all treated.

“Hey–”

As you stumble to your feet, Neteyam reaches out as if to stop you. You dodge his hands, unable to look him in the eye.

Panic is starting to set in now; what had you been thinking, touching him like that just after he had chided you for flirting with Txetyo in the tsahìk’s hut? God, you feel like such an idiot. He must think you’re so pathetic.

Like a coward, you turn on your heel and flee out of the hut. You need air, you need to be out of the cool darkness of the hut, you need to be away from the overwhelming weight of Neteyam’s presence. Through the blood rushing in your ears you can distantly hear Neteyam call to you, but you’re too desperate to escape from the whole humiliating interaction to stop and listen.

You stagger out of the hut, squinting at the evening light; it seems blinding after spending all day in the dim musty air of Mo’at’s healing hut. You pat at your rumpled shirt and creased denim shorts, flustered and frenzied as you try to straighten yourself out.

“Tawtute?”

You jerk, gasping, and whirl to find that Txetyo is sitting on a log a few feet away from the hut, apparently waiting for you to finish up with Neteyam. You feel like you’re burning up from a mixture of mortification and confused arousal and you’re certain that Neteyam is about to follow you out.

“I– I have to go!” You blurt, already stepping back towards the forest.

Txetyo frowns, obviously bewildered, but he doesn’t stand. “Don’t you want to–”

You don’t wait for him to finish. You’re already fleeing, disappearing into the trees as you run the whole way home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

It might be a little cowardly, but you avoid the village for days after that.

You stick to the outpost, watching Norm and Max and the other scientists work. You try not to die of boredom, and you try not to overthink and overthink and overthink.

But you have too much time on your hands as you slink around the outpost, and you can’t stop feeling guilty about abandoning your attempts to help Mo’at out in her healing hut.

You also can’t stop thinking about the shift of Neteyam’s muscles in the low dim light, or the silky hot feel of his cock in your hand, or the soft breathy grunts he had let out as his hips rocked. It feels like the experience has actually rewired your brain, as though you’ll never recover from it.

Growing up on Pandora as a human has been lonely. The only other human your age is Spider, who had become the closest thing you have to a brother – and you love him even when you feel like throttling him, but sometimes you just yearn for more.

You want companionship, you want understanding, you want romance, you want sexual intimacy. You don’t think it’s too much to ask for, and if you have to turn to big nine-feet-tall Na’vi warriors who just want to say they’ve had the experience of sleeping with a tawtute, then that’s… fine. Even if it’s only temporary.

Part of you is honestly relieved when Spider finally manages to force you out of the outpost and back to the village. It’s a relief to get back into the forest, to the village, to the life you’re used to. The outpost has nothing on the vibrancy of the village life, and you feel as though you can breathe for the first time in days upon stepping back into the village, even if it’s through your respirator mask.

There’s been a big hunt today, and the village is buzzing with excitement. You pass by several willowy Na’vi covered in celebratory paint, and follow the sound of the heavy thumping of drums.

The evening after a hunt is always a joyful affair, and you gradually start to relax throughout the night. You feast on collected fruit, hum along to some of the music, and sit comfortably with Spider all evening. At some point you’re joined by Lo’ak, which you don’t mind either; Lo’ak has always been the kind of outcast that fits comfortably between the edges of you and Spider. Those edges have smoothed out as he got older, but he’s always been a cool guy to hang out with.

When he’s not joining Spider in ganging up on you, that is.

“So– so wait, wait, let me get this straight,” Lo’ak is waving his hands as though trying to settle down a group of rowdy children, even though it’s just the three of you present. “Neteyam walked in on you fucking again, but this time it was in grandmother’s hut–”

You’re sat around the large campfire in the middle of the village, tucked away from the main celebrations. Part of you is flourishing being in this environment again, but another part is withering at this damn conversation. You glance around nervously, hoping that no casual observers can hear you guys talking.

“Txetyo only had his hand up my top!” You hiss hastily. “We weren’t actually– and we would have gone somewhere else when it came down to it!”

“Txetyo is a dickhead.” Spider complains, leaning heavily on your side. He’s so frequently dwarfed by the Na’vi that it’s easy to forget that he’s over six-feet-tall and corded with muscle, and his bulk is heavy.

Irritatingly, Lo’ak leans into you the same way on the other side, though he’s more careful about leaning his full weight, and you end up crushed in between the two idiots.

“He isn’t.” You protest, pushing back against their weight. “He’s–”

“Nah, he is.” Lo’ak interrupts before you can defend him. “Total skxawng. You know he keeps telling people he’s the best archer in the clan? And yet he didn’t manage to catch anything in today’s hunt–”

You try not to wince at that. It’s impossible to miss that while Txetyo may not have been successful in the hunt today, someone else is being lauded for their skill and success.

Neteyam has been given a place of honour by the fire next to his parents, and the careful swirls of paint all over his body can’t hide the proud glow on his face. Under the smooth veneer of Neteyam’s smiles and cheer was the jagged edge of his inferiority complex, his need to always be better and to be liked. Funnily enough, his insecurity has always been your favourite part of him. It felt real in a way his cockiness didn’t.

You can’t stop yourself from glancing over. Night has already fallen and there are many couples dancing, the flickering firelight sending wild shadows across the gathering. But even in the unsteady light, you catch the intense golden stare of Neteyam watching you from across the circle.

You hastily turn your face away, pressing your lips together tight as you try to pretend like you hadn’t been looking in the first place.

“–He’s better than Art’alak, at least.” Spider says, continuing on the conversation that you had checked out of for a few moments. “That guy was awful. I mean, what did you even see in him?”

You roll your eyes, sinking further back into the stupidly heavy weight of Spider and Lo’ak in a silly attempt to hide yourself from view. It almost definitely doesn’t work, and you can still feel the weight of Neteyam’s stare on you, even as you fixedly ignore him.

“Pretty sure we don’t want the answer to that one, man.” Lo’ak says, snickering.

His eyes glance around, before flashing across the gathering as though he can also feel Neteyam’s attention. You frown as Lo’ak hastily removes his arm from around your shoulders, even leaning away from you a little.

“I’m allowed to want company.” You say loftily, though you’re certain that your voice is a little shaky.

It feels like your skin is heating up under Neteyam’s eyes, and you feel yourself getting shifty. Why won’t he just look away?

Lo’ak obviously notices his brother’s attention, because he leans a little closer so he can speak quietly in your ear.

“My brother can be unbearable,” Lo’ak murmurs, “But he’s not a bad guy.”

“Gross.” You wrinkle your nose playfully at Lo’ak’s rare display of sincerity about his brother and he hisses at you, swiping at your head.

It’s all in jest, which is obvious given how gentle his hands are with you, and you laugh and lean away.

“I just– I don’t understand him.” You sigh once your laughter has tapered off. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t approve of the whole interspecies thing, but it’s like he goes out of his way to catch me in embarrassing situations. If he finds it gross, why seek it out?”

Lo’ak purses his lips and avoids your eyes. “Uh…”

“Anytime he shows up, the guys I’m with go running.” You continue, your brows knitting into a frown. “I mean, it’s getting ridiculous. Why can’t he just mind his own business?”

Lo’ak’s eyes dart over your head, and you just know that he and Spider are sharing a look together.

“He doesn’t– I wouldn’t say he disapproves of interspecies relationships–” Lo’ak says, but he fumbles a little in his attempt to get his words out and darts another panicked glance across the fire towards where Neteyam is sitting with their father.

You just scoff, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. You feel a little vulnerable talking about this; usually, you’re content to suffer through the embarrassment of having your sex partners pretending they don’t know you in public alone, but since Neteyam had started walking in on you, now he knows that they’re doing it too.

“He scolds them like they’re children whenever he walks in on us, talking about how they’re neglecting their duties and all that,” You mutter, scowling. “But it’s obviously because he’s annoyed that his friends are messing around with a Sky Person.”

Spider shifts at your side, making an odd sound beneath his breath. You turn to look at him, but he’s staring rather fixedly at a tree branch overhead. Lo’ak clears his throat, similarly looking off to the side to avoid your eyes.

You frown. It feels as though they’re hiding something from you, and the thought is unsettling.

“What?” You demand, sitting forward and staring intently at them.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak protests, but his voice is a little too high-pitched to be believable. “Uh… It’s just… well, I really don’t think that Neteyam has a problem with interspecies relationships. Our dad came from the Sky, too!”

You think that Lo’ak probably intended for that to be reassuring, but instead you find your stomach sinking miserably.

“Oh.” You say, pursing your lips. “So it’s me that he has a problem with.”

“No!” Lo’ak protests, but then he pauses. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to form a response under the weight of your narrowed eyes.

When no explanation comes, you end up just averting your gaze and looking towards the fire. It’s stupid, but you’re not sure what you were even expecting. Neteyam has always been perfect in his personal life, his duties, his relationships within the clan, his looks. It’s hardly a surprise that he’s developed a distaste for you – you know what Sky People represent to the Na’vi, after all.

Across the gathering, two Na’vi girls are shooting looks at Spider. You almost think they’re looking at him in disgust, but when Spider catches their eye and smiles back they both look away giggling.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes. You wonder when exactly it was that the Na’vi your age stopped seeing you as human nuisances that haunt the village, and started instead seeing you as people with possible sexual appeal.

“That is just unfair.” You intone dully. “You get Na’vi girls flirting with you from across the campfire, and I get Na’vi boys fucking me in corners and then pretending they don’t know me. And that’s only if I don’t get rudely interrupted by Lo’ak’s asshole brother.”

“Men.” Lo’ak says in a disparaging tone that sounds as though it’s meant to be sympathetic, but it falls short as he’s biting his tongue to keep from laughing. “Maybe you just have bad taste.”

Spider laughs too, though he’s still looking in the Na’vi girls’ direction. There’s a pink flush in his cheeks, and his smile looks distinctly pleased.

“Yeah,” You grumble, sinking down where you’re sitting. “I’m hearing that a lot.”

The conversation moves on then, Lo’ak nudging at Spider over your head and grinning as he recounts the highlights from the hunt earlier that day, but you’re distracted. You hardly even hear a word they say, too busy staring broodingly into the fire.

Luckily, neither Lo’ak nor Spider mind your silence. They’re perfectly content to fill the quiet themselves, chatting and babbling and joking over your head.

You’re drifting, lost in your own thoughts until you hear Lo’ak and Spider go quiet. You glance over to them, only to realise why they’ve stopped talking – Neteyam is walking your way.

You stiffen, eyes narrowing behind your respirator mask as he comes to a stop before you all. He greets his brother and Spider briefly, distractedly, before his big amber eyes settle on you.

All you can do is wait, tensed. You have no idea what he’s going to do or say, but if he says something about that day in the healing hut you might actually scream.

But Neteyam doesn’t immediately say anything. He crouches in front of you, his gaze as measured and even as ever, and proffers a wrapped utumauti leaf to you. For a moment, you just stare at it as though it’s something venomous.

“A portion of yerik meat,” Neteyam clarifies, not even blinking as he watches your face. “From the hunt earlier.”

Oh. Now you see. He’s just showing off, like he always does. He’s always doing things like this, just to show off his skills, his prowess, how strong he is. It’s irritating; everyone already knows how great he is, and he’s already practically revered throughout the village. You don’t know why he keeps trying to flaunt his greatness in front of you, other than the fact that he must love to annoy you.

Spider nudges you in the side, and you reach out to take the wrapped meat from Neteyam’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you.” You say, a little tersely.

Neteyam just nods, his tail coiling. He watches your face for another moment, and all the unspoken tension between you from the other day seems to swell to unbearable heights. His ears twitch, and then he glances over his shoulder to where his parents are sitting by the fire. They’re watching, which makes you feel itchy and embarrassed.

“I should return.” He says simply, before standing and nodding at you, then Spider and Lo’ak, before straightening up and walking back to his place by Jake, his tail swaying low.

There’s a long moment of silence, where you can feel Lo’ak and Spider staring at you.

“Don’t.” You say sharply when you see Lo’ak’s mouth open, and he closes it with a click.

This feels embarrassing, as though Neteyam is mocking you somehow. It’s not the first time he’s given you food, always making sure to let you know he caught it himself. It’s like he has a damn pathological need to show off his skills, to try and prove himself, to prove that he’s better than anyone else. It’s aggravating, even more so now that Lo’ak has made it clear that it’s you that Neteyam has a problem with.

Eventually, Spider and Lo’ak return to their conversation and you pull back, sitting silently between them. You pull your mask off for a brief moment to nibble at the meat. You’re a little irritated to admit that it’s delicious, and you sit back to lean into Spider’s side as you chew at it sullenly.

You’ve just begun to wonder if this night is a total bust altogether when you catch movement out of the corner of your eye. You raise your head, surprised to see the sight of Txetyo stepping towards you.

At your side, Spider and Lo’ak share a look before sitting up straighter.

“Tawtute,” Txetyo greets, nodding his head at you. He casts a single cautious look towards Lo’ak, before focusing on you properly.

He is keeping his voice purposely low so that no one else can hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. This is the most public setting that any man has ever actually approached you in, and you can feel your expression brightening already.

“Hello.” You murmur, smiling sweetly at him. The last time you had seen him had been right after you had fled the tsahik’s hut, right after you had touched Neteyam– and no, you are not thinking about that right now.

“I would like to speak with you.” Txetyo murmurs, his voice low as he darts one more quick look between Lo’ak and Spider before settling on you again.

You brighten. You’re under no illusions about what Txetyo wants to ‘speak’ about, and you can safely assume that there will be little to no talking involved at all.

Yes. A distraction. This is exactly what you need.

“Sure.” You say, your lips curving up in a coy smile as you unfold yourself from where you’ve been sitting between Spider and Lo’ak.

“Uh–” Lo’ak starts to say, but you’re already beginning to step away with Txetyo, who’s beginning to lead you away from the gathering.

Maybe it’s a little impulsive, but you’re feeling reckless tonight. You can still feel Neteyam’s eyes boring into your back as you follow Txetyo towards the treeline, but you determinedly refuse to look. The celebration should be enough of a distraction to keep him busy and away from you for a while so you can finally get laid.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You resist the urge to check the time on your battered old wristwatch as Txetyo slides down your body and repositions himself between your legs.

It feels like such a long time since you’ve hooked up successfully with anyone, with no interruptions, which is probably why you’ve been so affected by all-things-Neteyam recently. You were hoping that this encounter with Txetyo would restore you back to normal, to get rid of all the thoughts of Neteyam’s intense golden stare and pretty face and silken hot cock that are absolutely haunting you.

Yet, so far, the night’s been less than stellar. Txetyo had led you away from the celebrations, and you had to try hard to pretend like you don’t see him looking around compulsively to make sure that no one else has seen him leave with you. You had followed him into the trees, and had brightened up when he took your hand as soon as you were out of sight of the gathering.

Before you knew it, you were on your back on the forest floor with your panties around your ankles and your dress rucked up around your waist as Txetyo loomed over you on his hands and knees.

Txetyo is handsome, and he’s big and strong and he’s not opposed to hooking up with a Sky Person, but he’s not much for conversation and it seems like he’s only really got one thing on his mind. Apparently, your list of criteria might be a little lacking, because Txetyo’s also proving to be woefully bad at sex.

He spreads your legs and buries his face there. You blink at the canopy of glowing foliage overhead, grimacing. Honestly, you’d think that anything tongue-adjacent would feel good against a clit, but that’s just not true. Txetyo seems to have an affinity for moving his tongue rapidly and aimlessly against you, resulting in nothing better than the occasional teasing — definitely by accident.

You shift a little, try to angle your hips so that Txetyo’s mouth is over your clit, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on what you’re attempting to do at all. He just moves his mouth away, jabbing his tongue sort of aimlessly at your left labia.

“Could you– a bit higher–” You say, trying to shift again.

Txetyo’s mouth is rather sloppy against your pussy, but you’re not actually sure what he’s doing down there. He seems to be missing every possible nerve ending that might feel good, which is actually a little bit impressive.

You sigh, and just resign yourself to getting bad head. You let your head thunk back against the mossy forest floor, your legs hanging off of Txetyo’s big shoulders as he hunches between your thighs.

It’s almost imperceptible, but the quiet ‘crack’ of a twig breaking underfoot has your head snapping around in a panic.

Though night has fallen, it’s never truly dark on Pandora. The moss beneath you glows faintly, illuminating the outline of your body as you lay there with Txetyo getting busy between your legs. The trees and foliage around you are similarly phosphorescent, your surroundings all lit up in luminous vibrance.

Pandora’s bioluminescence is beautiful; it also means that you can see Neteyam’s figure all dimly lit up as he leans against the trunk of a tree about fifteen feet away.

Neteyam’s head is cocked to the side as he very obviously takes in the scene before him, his head turning to scan up and down your body. His little luminous freckles are lit up and glowing, and it’s impossible to miss the fact that his golden eyes are fixed on you, so intense that it’s almost breathtaking.

You almost scream. You mean to, but instead you moan, completely by accident, and Txetyo groans between your legs.

You don’t know what to do. You’re gaping at Neteyam, who seems all too content to just watch you, meanwhile Txetyo is totally oblivious. He’s still doing nothing right, but something deep inside you pulses.

Moments later, much to your horror, Neteyam takes a small, tentative step forward. He stands only a few feet away, behind Txetyo and in plain view of you.

Go away! You mouth, staring at him in disbelief.

Neteyam scratches his head, feigning confusion, and then he takes another step forward.

He doesn’t say anything. Why isn’t he saying anything? It’s not the first time he’s walked in on you in a situation like this, but usually by this point he’s started making snarky comments, which in turn makes the men you’re with scramble away from you like you’re diseased.

Your dress is pushed up clumsily around your stomach, exposing your pussy. There’s a man between your legs. You’re in the process of getting fucked and Neteyam is watching, goddammit.

It definitely, absolutely is not hot. And yet… your hips twitch, and your breath hitches.

“That feel good?” Txetyo asks, peering up to grin at you. Your attention is dragged back to him and you blink, dazed.

“Yeah,” You lie. “So good.”

“Mm,” Txetyo hums in satisfaction, slipping two fingers into you. “Good.”

You grunt at the stretch of his thick fingers, breathing deep. His mouth returns, his fingers jabbing kind of aimlessly, but it hardly matters. Your attention is locked on Neteyam, and it’s somehow making Txetyo’s useless attempts feel somewhat invigorating.

“Oh god,” You gasp. You’re so confused. Part of you is still waiting for Neteyam to speak up, to make a sound or to clear his throat. Something. But he just watches on, his pretty eyes dark.

“Mm, so pretty,” Txetyo murmurs from between your legs, still blissfully unaware of your onlooker. “Can I fuck you now, tawtute?”

Despite yourself, you find your eyes darting over to Neteyam. The stupid fucker is still looking, and when he sees that you’ve looked at him his lips quirk. Your whole body flushes deep with heat, and you try to pretend like you aren’t taking direction from him; usually, his appearance would have stopped this entire encounter dead in its tracks. But you’re continuing, and the fact is, you feel as though you need his permission or something.

“Y-yes.” You say.

Neteyam purses his lips, and raises his non-existent brows. Fuck, what does that mean?

“How would you like me to–”

“Just like this.” You blurt. It feels, for some reason, as though you can’t risk Txetyo noticing Neteyam. This is the only way you can see Neteyam without Txetyo noticing him, anyway.

Txetyo shuffles up your body, his bulk dwarfing you. There’s a moment’s struggle as he’s lining himself up against your pussy, groaning low as he pushes into you. The stretch is intense, and a little painful, as always; you never quite get used to the bone-deep satisfaction of that achey biting stretch in your cunt.

The stretch is satisfying, like it always is, but it’s not necessarily special. Txetyo is not as evenly proportioned as he looks, and his cock is smaller than other Na’vi you’ve been with. That is, mostly, a good thing; it means he can fuck you without lube, which you usually have to use to accommodate the shocking stretch of taking a Na’vi cock. It also means that you adjust to having him inside you a little quicker, your muscles easing gradually around the intrusion of his dick.

What is special (or at least unusual) is the fact that Neteyam is still watching. You stare back, maintaining a bewilderingly intense sort of eye contact. Txetyo groans as your cunt clenches down on him, and he lowers his face to bury it in your shoulder; like this, your view of Neteyam is completely unimpeded.

“Ah! You’re so tight,” Txetyo hisses. “This is okay?”

“Yes,” You gasp. “You can move.”

And by God, does Txetyo move. He jerks in and out of you with a complete lack of coordination. You bounce and flop against the luminescent bed of moss beneath you, occasionally throwing a hand over your head to try and anchor yourself to a tree root behind you, just to stay put for a second or two.

Neteyam is undoubtedly amused. He has a hand pressed to his mouth, and the skin around his eyes is scrunched up with mirth. At one point, when Txetyo starts humping into you so desperately that you grunt, wincing, Neteyam doubles over himself completely, laughing silently.

“Oh, oh,” Txetyo groans. “Tawtute, I am going to– you are so tight, so hot inside–"

You smack one of Txetyo’s hands away from where he’d been rubbing determinedly at the side of your vulva. You rub at your clit instead in fast, harsh circles, staring at Neteyam desperately. You don’t actually know what you’re looking for, or what you want him to do… but you want him to do something.

Neteyam reaches down to palm the bulge at the front of his tewng that you hadn’t even noticed until now, and you moan. You rub yourself even faster, attempting to angle your hips in any way that could increase your pleasure from Txetyo. It seems impossible, but you manage to catch one or two good strokes.

“Please, please—!” You gasp, eyes wide as you maintain eye contact with Neteyam over the wide bulk of Txetyo’s shoulders.

Neyeyam moans. It’s low, barely noticeable under Txetyo’s own strangled sounds, but you hear it clearly. Your body seizes up and then you’re coming, gasping high and quick as you drink Neteyam in with your eyes, frozen under Neteyam’s gaze in turn.

“Unnng,” Txetyo grunts as he comes too, thrusting into you through the last shocks of his orgasm.

You barely even blink, your eyes fixed wide open as you tremble, your breaths shaky. Neteyam doesn’t break eye contact either, watching you so damn closely that it feels bizarrely as though he’s watching a show you’re putting on, as though all of this is for him. The worst part is you feel as though you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t.

Neteyam silently turns and slips away through the foliage, and Txetyo flops onto the mossy ground beside you moments later, breathing heavily.

“That was good.” Txetyo sighs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You don’t reply, still staring at the place Neteyam had disappeared into the trees. You’re partly unable to believe what just happened and partly turned on beyond belief, just knowing it did.

What the fuck?

#on holidays atm and I’ve been stressing about how to post this 😭 I’ll have part 2 posted in a day or two!#neteyam #neteyam x human #neteyam x reader #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na’vi x reader #awow #avatar way of water #neteyam fic #fics

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f4ll-for-you · 7 months

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Sick Day | Rafe Cameron

I am ridiculously obsessed with Drew and the characters he plays so here is a little random (unedited) Rafe fluff🫶

Luckily, because of Rafes job, and money, you were able to do what you wanted. Meaning you worked in a small bookstore, something that had always been your dream, but never seemed like a feasible career until you started dating Rafe.

It took a lot of convincing on his part for you to take the job, the guilt of not bringing in enough money eating away at you.

However, in truth, if Rafe had it his way, you wouldn’t work at all. He adored being the man of the house, the one to take care of you and his future family.

As usual, you got up, kissed Rafe goodbye and headed off to the small bookstore in town, but today, your head was pounding.

You don’t know where it came from, but you could feel yourself getting sick, feeling dizzy and exhausted for no apparent reason.

After an hour at work that morning, your boss had sent you home, insisting that you rest and let Rafe take care of you.

“Sally, I’m fine, besides Rafe is busy, he can’t take time off for just a stupid cold” you argued.

“Home!” She insisted, pointing at the door.

Sally was your mother’s age, kind and caring, but also blunt when she needed to be.

You made your way back to your car as your headache worsened, luckily the drive to your house wasn’t far.

As you arrived to your house, exhaustion overtook your body, you dropped your things by the door and made your way to the large sofa, snuggling up in blankets.

A couple of hours passed before you awoke, pain and dizziness circling in your head as you opened your eyes.

You knew you should call Rafe, he’d want to know, you were always his priority, but he’d been so busy this week you didn’t want to worry him, knowing he’d come home instantly to look after you.

After several deep breaths, you managed to sit up slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the light.

It had been hours since you’d eaten anything, your stomach reminded you, the emptiness making you feel sick.

Step by step you made your way to the kitchen, finding the easiest meal you could make. You opted for some biscuits, hoping they would give you enough energy to make a proper meal once you felt up to it.

However, halfway to the kitchen your vision started to go blurry, black spots dotted your view and before you knew it, you’d passed out.

Rafe had been incredibly busy at work recently, excited to finally close the deal on this job, he’d decided to go home early and surprise you by being the first one home for once.

It had got to early afternoon and he’d had enough, knowing everyone around him was perfectly capable of wrapping things up, he was just there watching over his team, which he decided probably wasn’t helping.

On his way home he stopped to grab your favourite flowers and snacks, smiling as he paid the cashier.

“She’s a lucky girl” the cashier commented, noting Rafes beaming smile.

“She deserves it.”

He made his way back to his car and drove back towards the house. His stomach filled with confusion as he saw your car in the driveway.

Usually you’d tell him if you got off work early so he instantly knew something was wrong.

It had only been minutes since you’d fainted, you came to hearing the front door open, feeling the light prick your eyelids painfully.

“Baby!” You heard Rafe shout with worry, hearing the thud as he dropped whatever he was carrying.

“Baby, oh my god, what’s happened?”

You could only grumble in response.

Rafe quickly scooped you up, gently re wrapping the blanket around you as he carried you up to your shared room.

He noticed how pale you were as he realised you must have been sent home sick. Guilt filled his stomach, you hadn’t told him, probably because you didn’t want to disturb him when he’d been so busy. It was all his fault. You could’ve been seriously hurt, or left there for hours.

Rafe placed you down gently, taking off his jacket and shoes before cuddling up to you. He knew all you wanted when you were sick was cuddles.

After a few minutes, you began to feel normal again and Rafe insisted on getting you a glass of water and something sugary. Although he was terrified to leave your side, he knew you needed food and water to recover.

“Don’t leave me” you whimpered, finally feeling better in his arms.

“I’ll be right back princess” he kissed your forehead and practically ran down the stairs.

He brought up a water, energy drink and the snacks he’d brought for your cozy night in. “Here, sit up for me angel” he spoke softly as helped you sit against your plush pillows, bringing the glass of water to your lips as you attempted to drink.

“You gave me a scare, why didn’t you tell me you felt sick?” He asked, stroking your head as you tried to look away. This was exactly what you didn’t want, him having to drop everything to care for you.

“I didn’t want to disturb you at work, you had so much important stuff on and I was gonna wait until you got back” you mumbled, realising how stupid it was for you not to call him.

“Oh angel, you are the most important thing, work never comes before you and your health, you know that” he reassured you, kissing your forehead gently as tears fell from your eyes.

“I know” you sniffled.

“Shhh come here” he engulfed you in a hug once more as he knelt beside your side of the bed.

“Now, eat something for me and have some medicine, do you think it’s a migraine?”

You nodded slowly as Rafe instantly got up, making sure you were okay and comfortable before getting back into bed himself.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in his arms, letting the medication kick in as you napped. You couldn’t have asked for a better boyfriend.

#rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe fluff #rafe cameron fluff #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic

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lliminall · 1 year

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Passione Boys After You Dump Them | Headcanons

How they react and how they try to win you back. Because we love to see a man grovel.

tags: gn reader, slightly toxic in some of them, nsfw implications in abbacchio’s

Giorno Giovanna

Your announcement that you wanted to break up with him wasn’t exactly a surprise to the Don. He’s perceptive of your feelings, and he knows that he doesn’t have as much free time as most. He certainly isn’t able to be there for you as often as other suitors would. That doesn’t mean he’s happy to hear it, though.

This may be one of the few moments where you see his carefully crafted shell begin to crack. You mean more to Giorno than you know. He’s had so few people he loves in his life. The thought of losing you breaks his heart in a way he hasn’t experienced before.

Giorno isn’t willing to let this conversation end until you see things his way, and he is incredibly persuasive when he wants to be. Maybe you should wait and cool off a bit, amore. He can take care of all of this if you’ll just give him some time.

But…you don’t give in. He realizes, too late, that in all the time he’s spent away from you, these problems have become too much for you to bear any longer. You made up your mind and nothing he says is going to change it. Any further attempts to convince you are equally rebuffed, until he accepts that you’re just not willing to speak to him right now.

So he gives you space. No big deal. He’s patient. He can keep himself from pursuing you…for a while. The last thing Giorno wants to do is act impulsively on his emotions, and he’s certainly feeling more emotional than usual right now. He lets you have some distance, but ultimately he’s confident in his ability to win you back. No one else can take care of you like he can.

There may never be a moment in his mind where he truly feels as if he’s lost you. You’re not really broken up, you’re just taking a break. Yes, maybe you were right in saying that he hasn’t been setting aside enough time for you. And yes, he can understand why you might feel as if you only come second place to other priorities in his life. He’s a busy guy! But you have to understand that he’s doing his best, and he’ll find a way to do better. For your sake.

So he leaves you alone. Maybe you need a few weeks, or even a month or two. When he feels you’ve calmed down enough, he’ll start reappearing in your life again. As a friend, of course! He wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, ha ha, but you two have always gotten along, even before you were together, so surely you won’t object to him just checking in? :)

And it’s like you’d forgotten how easy he is to talk to. How helpful his advice is. How nice it feels to bask in the glow of one his soft, genuine smiles, which so few others are lucky enough to see. And so, maybe you end up spending more time with him than you wanted to, in the wake of your breakup. He acts so nonchalant about all of it, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be spending time with you, no awkwardness, no lingering bitterness, that you can’t help but lean into it.

He knows exactly the right time to strike up a conversation about getting back together. When you’re alone together and the mood is high (and maybe you’re starting to realize that you really do miss him. Just a little bit), he’ll lay a hand on your arm and finally allow himself to be honest with you again.

“I’ve thought about what you said, and I want to apologize for the ways I’ve fallen short. But you must understand, amore, there’s no one for me but you. If you can find it in yourself to give me another chance, I promise I’ll prove that to you.”

Guido Mista

Totally blindsided. He doesn’t even know how to react at first. I mean, sure, you two had been having some issues, but it wasn’t anything that serious, right?? He’s already planned your whole lives together. He even picked out the name of your future cat. You can’t just leave him now!

Be prepared to have a very long, very emotional argument. Mista cannot accept you leaving him, and he can’t understand why you’re not willing to stay and work these problems out. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so distraught as he is now. He loves you so much, and he knows you love him too. Shouldn’t that be enough?

It isn’t, and you tell him that, and it absolutely crushes him. You’re both in tears by the time you leave, and even then he’s following you out the door trying to convince you to stay. He’ll be blowing up your phone afterwards, and then your email if you block him. There’s almost nothing too embarrassing for him at this point, he’d cashapp you money just to get you to read the note attached. This poor man lmao. He just really, really loves you, and he can’t not have you in his life.

He’s so mad at you. He can’t even remember the last time someone cut him this deep. The rest of the team is immediately made aware of how crushed he is, and Mista doesn’t even have to tell them. The cloud hanging over him is dark enough that passerby’s on the street can tell there’s something wrong with this man.

I can see him getting a bit nasty with you during this period. Whether it’s through text or if he manages to get you face to face, he’s not the type of person to hide how he feels, and right now he is feeling a lot.

“Well, I wouldn’t have to show up here if you would fucking unblock me and listen! Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell, ok? I just…you have to hear me out. Please?”

The time apart from you, no matter how long, leaves him absolutely miserable. The distance does give him time to think, though. About everything you said to him that night, the issues you couldn’t bear anymore. If you can’t bear the problems, and he can’t bear to be away from you, some compromises will just have to be made.

I give it a month, max, before he comes back to you, now much more level-headed and solemn. He’s trying his hardest to make things right again. He just needs you to meet him halfway.

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo knew you two had been on the rocks lately. He isn’t an idiot. Every argument, every miscommunication, every day you became a bit more withdrawn, it was all noticed and filed away carefully in his mind. But when you finally find the courage to sit him down and tell him it’s over, he still can’t control himself. He’s panicked, at first, until he hides that vulnerability behind a much harder and safer emotion: his anger.

The resulting outburst, of course, only serves to strengthen your resolve. This is exactly why you had to leave to begin with, and as much as you’d hoped he would have found it in himself to be civil, you knew it would go like this. He’s so upset he can hardly breathe, and when the yelling finally becomes too much, you leave him to fall apart alone.

With time, the rage subsides to simmering anger that lingers and persists for weeks. It’s easier to pretend he hates you for it. You left him, like everyone always does. He trusted you and loved you more than anyone else, and processing those feelings is just too painful, so he turns them into anger instead. At least that’s an emotion he knows what to do with.

It isn’t sustainable, though. Maybe it takes a push from Bucciarati or another friend, someone he respects enough to take correction from, but sooner or later he realizes he has to process these awful feelings. He misses you. Every day. And maybe you weren’t entirely wrong about your reasons for leaving. But if those reasons were things that could be changed…maybe this can still be fixed.

The next time you see him, he��s unrecognizable from the man you left screaming in his apartment. He’s nervous, clearly, but composed. He asks you gently if you have time to talk, and the tension visibly drains from his body when you agree.

He starts by apologizing for how things went that night. He shouldn’t ever speak to you that way, and he knows that. He just didn’t know how to control himself then, but he’s learning those skills now! If there’s one thing Fugo can do, it’s study, and he tells you all about the books he’s been reading to better himself. Topics ranging from anger management, to emotional intelligence, to relationship conflict.

He asks, anxiously, if you would be willing to give him another shot. He’ll even agree to see a couples counselor, if it makes you feel more comfortable. He knows that with his effort to improve, and your willingness to find better ways to work with him, you two can work all of this out. He just hopes you still think it’s worth the effort.

“I know I messed up, but I just wanted you to see that I’m trying. And I’m getting better. And I’d like to keep getting better with you, if that’s ok.”

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno can’t say that he didn’t see this coming. The state of your relationship was clearly less than ideal. Bruno is a man who stretches himself thin, who gives so many pieces of his time to so many people and projects, that sometimes it can feel as if you’re only getting the leftover scraps of him.

He’d always assumed that he would be able to commit more of himself to you later. In the future, when Passione was stable, when the Don didn’t need him so much, when his community was safe without him. Of course, there’s no guarantee that any of these things would happen soon or ever, and his assumption that you would be willing to wait on him indefinitely is proven wrong.

Immediately, he tries to deescalate. Explaining that all of these problems are fixable, that he loves you so much, that maybe you should both just go to bed and things will feel better when you’ve slept on it.

“Slow down, amore. Shh, I know. Things have been difficult lately, but we can work through all of this. Just trust me, all right?”

As the conversation goes on and he sees that you aren’t going to be convinced, he begins to lose his composure. Bruno is a passionate man. In his time as a Capo he’s become accustomed to being obeyed, to having his every request carried out, and to having the absolute trust of most of the people he considers important to him. For you, his most important person, to be slipping out of his grasp with no control is not something he’s prepared to deal with. At least not gracefully.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so frantic as he is while you’re leaving. He tries to remain composed, but he can only stay so calm when he’s watching the love of his life prepare to walk out on him. You can’t do this. He can’t let you do this. He can take care of everything, he always takes care of everything, if you’ll just let him, don’t you see?

In the aftermath, he’s devastated. He throws himself back into his work, and to most people he would appear to be functioning just fine in your absence. To his team, however, this facade is easily seen through. He’s sharp. Barbed. A little more ruthless, a lot more unfocused. Giorno all but forces him to take some time off and recollect himself, and Bruno does so begrudgingly.

Time off is just time without a distraction. It hurts (and maybe digs up some trauma from his childhood that he didn’t realize he still harbored), but it also allows him to do some necessary reevaluations. Bruno cannot live without you. In the time he’s loved you, you’ve become his reason for the work he does. You’re the reason he wants to clean up these streets, the reason he needs his city to be safe, the reason he needs to be a strong and dependable figure, always improving, always moving forward.

I don’t think it would take him long to come to this conclusion. A month, max, before he seeks you out again, ready to offer himself back up you—as much of himself as he can. He’s ready to make compromises if you are too.

Narancia Ghirga

Dear god. Brace yourself lmao

Narancia’s abandonment issues run bone-deep. From the earliest stages of his life, the people he loves the most have been leaving him in one way or another. He cannot bear to be left behind again—especially not by you.

Prepare for screaming, crying, punching walls, and desperate begging. There’s no outcome where you and Narancia have a calm, respectful conversation about this. As soon as you mention leaving him, he’s spiraling. He needs you to take it back. He needs you to change your mind. He needs you to apologize and promise to never ever even think of leaving him again. He could never imagine walking out on you. How can you do this to him?

When you leave and the panic begins to wear off, he’s furious. He’ll oscillate between hopeless despair and anger, and you’ll be on the receiving end of both. Narancia is not leaving you alone. You may have to dissolve into tears yourself, pleading with him to just give you the space you need and work on getting himself over this. He may agree—temporarily. Even if he promises to stop showing up and bothering you in person, that doesn’t mean he can stop himself from texting you when he’s drunk in the wee hours of the morning.

“Fuck, how can you do this?! I’m sorry! Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry and I promise I can fix it! Please, can we just talk?”

With enough time, he’ll have calmed down enough to at least have a more mature conversation about what happened. And that conversation will happen. It has to. He knows you asked him to stay away, but you have to understand that he can’t ever do that. He needs you, and he’ll do anything to prove that to you, no matter how long it takes.

Leone Abbacchio

Abbacchio’s immediate reaction is to shut down. It’s a self-preserving reflex more than anything, but to you it’s just confirmation that what you’re doing is right. You can’t keep begging for what he’s obviously not willing to give: vulnerability. Inwardly Abbacchio is crumbling, but the only response he allows you to see is irritation and cold indifference. Go ahead, leave him. It’s not like you were ever going to last to begin with, and it’s not like he can’t find another fuck-buddy whenever he wants.

This is, of course, a lie. You’ve never been just a hookup to him, but the fact that he could even say something so cruel to you is just more proof that you need to remove yourself from him. By the end of the argument, you’re crying and he’s waiting for you to shut the door behind you so he can finally break out the alcohol and get plastered.

Very few people would be able to sense that there was anything wrong with him. He falls back on his old method of disguising his misery: burying it under ten masks of indifference. He puts on a convincing performance, but he knows that’s all it is. You were a light in the dark trenches of his life, bright and warm and inviting, and he snuffed you out. One more colossal failure to haunt him at night.

He finds other partners. One night stands and shallow, meaningless hookups. They’re meant to be a distraction, but they’re only half-successful. His connection with you wasn’t just about physical pleasure, it was about an emotional connection that his other partners can’t replicate. He loved you, in a way he hasn’t loved anyone else.

It will take Abbacchio a very long time to work through this. He doesn’t just have to bite back his pride to ask for reconciliation, he has to overcome his self-loathing enough to allow himself to hope. When he does come back to you, he comes as a man who’s finally begun to build himself back up into someone he believes is worthy of you.

“Hey. I know it’s been a long time, but I just wanted to check up on you. And maybe, if it’s all right…could we go somewhere and talk? There are some things I wanted to tell you.”

#so does anyone else still read for golden wind or #giorno giovanna x reader #guido mista x reader #pannacotta fugo x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #narancia ghirga x reader #leone abbacchio x reader #jjba x reader #my works.ll #giorno.ll #mista.ll #fugo.ll #bruno.ll #narancia.ll #abbacchio.ll #jjba.ll

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moremaybank · 1 year

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HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — k.m

pairing klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

summary klaus pleads with you as he tries to win you back (based on the song “how you get the girl” by taylor swift)

warnings a little angst, fluff, klaus's fear of reader dying (no actual character death, though)

author's note i'm genuinely so happy with how this turned out. i put the chorus last because it worked better, i hope that’s okay. and i know this was supposed to be mainly fluff, but inspiration struck, all right? don't hate me. also, changed my layout a little.

klaus masterlist ;; valentine's day ‘23 𓆩 ♡ 𓆪

stand there like a ghost

shaking from the rain, rain

she’ll open up the door and say, “are you insane?”

say it’s been a long six months

and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl

and then, you say

klaus stood at your doorstep, a bouquet in hand, as he debated back and forth between making his presence known and ringing the doorbell or running like hell in the opposite direction. to say he was torn would be the most incredible understatement of all time.

one the one hand, he wanted to see you. god, did he want to see you. he wished for nothing more than to drink in the glimmer of your bright eyes, the curve of your lips when you smiled, the glow that overtook your complexion.

but on the other hand, he was scared. each person who had chosen to love him became collateral damage in the hands of his lifelong line of enemies, and he couldn’t bear for that to be your fate. he couldn’t be selfish with you because you made his life feel worth it just by existing.

so he walked away.

those same enemies he’d feared would take you away from him permanently and forever had now been conquered, but he still struggled to sleep at night. he’d toss and turn, and if he were lucky enough to drift off into slumber, you’d overtake his dreams too.

he’d hear the harmonious crinkle of your laugh, feel the ghost of your lips on his, and his mind would subconsciously replay the memories of the nights you’d spent dancing together, with him twirling you around the room as you giggled. you would tell him that you loved him beyond what you ever thought was possible, and he would say the same to you in return.

everything was perfect. until it wasn’t.

one night he’d sat you down, barely being able to look you in the eye while he told you that your relationship couldn’t go on, that it wouldn’t last. you’d fought like hell to make him believe in how strong your bond was, that nothing could tear you apart, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. and so, he ended it. he’d never seen anyone run off so fast, supernaturally or not. as you did, he could feel your heart shatter in his hands, which hurt him the most. he’d always promised to protect your heart and cherish it, and now it seemed as if it was a mere lie he’d told you to get you to trust him.

but that was then, and this is now. the same concerns did not carry the same weight on his shoulders as they did before. klaus needed you. as the original hybrid, he was almost fearless. but with you, it was different. he was different. your love made him brave. it pushed him to see the light he carried deep within himself, and he desperately needed that. he needed you. someone that believed in him more than anyone else had ever even tried to. and that was enough to push him to ring the bell.

the door creaked open, and your eyes went wide when they landed on him. “klaus, w—what are you doing here?”

“i love you, y/n. and i’m not leaving until you’re mine again.”

remind her how it used to be, be, yeah-yeah

with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

tell her how you must have lost your mind, ooh-ooh

when you left her all alone

and never told her why, why

and that’s how it works

that’s how you lost the girl

and now, you say

“go home, klaus. i’m not doing this with you,” you spoke, moving to close the door.

klaus stopped you, however, sticking his foot between the doorframe and keeping it nudged open. “please. please hear me out.”

you looked into his eyes, the familiar hues of cerulean bringing warmth into your chest — an unwelcome warmth if you were truthful. at that moment, he’d never looked so honest. even now, after all these months, you could still read him so well and decipher where he was telling the truth.

“you can’t come inside.”

“that’s fine. i don’t need to. i’m going to fix this, even if i have to stand out here in the cold all night and talk your ears off,” he chuckled, trying to make you smile.

you didn’t, though, and his grin quickly began to fade. he cleared his throat in the awkward silence, “y/n, i’ve lived longer than anyone on this earth — barring elijah — and i know this to be true; i was an idiot to walk away from what we had. i did it out of fear, fear that i wouldn’t be able to protect you. fear that you’d die in my arms and i would have no way of helping you. if you had left me, i wouldn’t have been able to survive it. so i forced myself to walk away. but that only made things worse.”

klaus watched as the anger and hurt on your face began to waver, and he hoped you believed in everything he was saying.

“i want you back. i want our life back. i want to dance with you in the living room to that willie nelson song you love. i want you to toss flour at me while you’re baking the most magnificent beignets i have ever tasted. i want to feel your beat next to mine every night and feel the ache in my chest when we’re forced to spend the night apart,” he spoke, carefully inching closer to you. “i want to marry you, give you a family, hell, give you the world. i just want you.”

and you know

oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh

that i don’t want you to go, oh, oh

remind me how it used to be

pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks

and say you want me, yeah-yeah

and then you say

you ran a hand through your hair, closing your eyes shut as you tried to process everything klaus had just said to you.

“y/n?”

“just— give me a second to take this all in, klaus. you can’t just come back here after six months and expect me to waltz back into your arms. i loved you, klaus. i still do, and that means something to me. but you hurt me. how am i supposed to trust that you aren’t going to run off and leave me in the dust every time you’re afraid?”

klaus reached out, trying to place his hand on your arm in comfort, but you moved out of his reach before he could.

“y/n, please. i’m not afraid anymore. no one on this earth will fight to protect you the way i will. i’m smart enough to see that now. these past few months without you have been absolute hell, and for me, that’s saying something.”

he reached forward once more, this time successfully gracing your arm with the familiar heat of his palm. “if you’ve shut the door on us forever, i understand, and i’ll respect your decision. but you should know that i’m not going anywhere this time. i promise you.”

you huffed a sigh, breaking your locked gaze as you thought about it. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t dreamed of this moment on repeat during the handful of months you’d been without him. all you wished for, in and out every single day, was for klaus to show up and tell you that he was wrong. to say to you that he was sorry and that he’d never let you go again. he’d take your face in his palms, thumb swiping over your cheekbone as he always did, pull you close and kiss you. a kiss so magical that it would take all of the pain and agony away. and when you’d pull away, he’d mumble how much he loved you against your lips, and you’d grin wider than ever before.

all of your shared memories sprang into your mind, of kisses on cheeks, nights spent in each other’s arms, days of exploring the city hand in hand. you remembered how great the love you shared was and thought of how great it could be again.

and that’s all you hoped for.

i want you for worse or for better

i would wait forever and ever

broke your heart, i’ll put it back together

i would wait forever and ever

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl, girl, (oh-oh, oh)

and that’s how it works

that’s how you get the girl, girl

“i know i hurt you. i broke us, and i’m willing to put us back together if you’d let me. i am going to be on this earth until it disintegrates into ash, and even then, i will never stop fighting for the chance to win you back. nothing could ever make me walk away from you again.”

your eyes met once more as his statement pulled you out of your thoughts. you looked at him, your heart cracking wide open at his sincerity.

“stop fighting, klaus.”

“didn’t you hear what i said? i’m not going to, not even if you beg me.”

“no. i’m saying…you don’t have to fight for a chance anymore,” you spoke, moving to stand right in front of him. “you’ve got me.”

his lips curled up, his dimple showing as he surged forward, cradling your face as he always had, stroking your cheeks with his calloused thumbs as he always had, and let the magic bleed through his healing kiss.

your hands circled his wrists, and you smiled against his lips, finally feeling as if your heart and mind were at peace again. everything had fallen back into place, and the world finally made sense to you.

he pulled away reluctantly, leaning his forehead against yours. “i’m going to marry the bloody hell out of you,” he breathed.

“slow your roll there, mister. we only just got back together,” you laughed softly. hearing your laugh was music to klaus’s ears because he’d been waiting for it for so long.

“we’ve spent enough time without each other. i’m done waiting. let’s get married.”

you pecked his lips once more, watching a crimson dance along his cheeks. “let’s get married,” you repeated, agreeing with him.

he grinned, swooping you up into his arms bridal style as he spun you around. you squealed with a giggle, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck as you held on tight.

and that’s how it happened. that’s how klaus got the girl.

klaus tag list (join here!): @princess-charming-01 @maybankslover @kittyqrt @darkmoonbloodshake @techlipse @the-kaya-aa @catmikaelson20 @hopesdadswife @amournoir @iluvniklaus @diyabhanushali1 @your_best_hoe @ijustlovetoread @lyn07 @elenavampire21 @theesexystallion @dudenhaaa27 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @shawnspoems @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @luzberg @thelastgreatamericandynasty1989 @conniesanchor @milly-louise @angel037

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ejoygvf · 1 year

Text

A Bad Day

I don’t really see Josh as much of a hardcore dominant, so this was very different to write but something I needed to get off my chest!

Your day was going from bad to worse. Luckily your wonderful boyfriend was happy enough to be able to change that for you and turn a bad day into a great one.

Content Warnings: 🔞 EXPLICIT Sexual Content!!! Fingering, oral M/F, unprotected sexual intercourse (don’t be silly, wrap your willy) , spanking, whipping, spitting, daddy kink, extreme degradation, mild bdsm, control, bit of fluff and I THINK that’s it. Straight up porn basically.

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

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Your day had been an absolute shit show. The stress that had amounted up throughout the day and you had just about reached breaking point. It had been one thing after another. You dropped your favourite mug in the morning and it had smashed into irreparable pieces, you missed your first train on the way to work and your second was delayed, a dickhead truck driver decided to drive into a puddle and soak you with muddy rain water as you walked along the pavement, you left your work pass at home and were stuck outside in the pouring rain for 15 minutes before security eventually buzzed you in. Yeah, THAT much of a shit show day.

Finally, you were on your way back home from work. It had dragged on for what felt like 15 hours, rather than 8. The train journey home was a lot smoother, thank fucking god. It was actually quite quiet too, which was a relief. You put your headphones in and turned the volume all the way up before slumping your head back into the train seat and taking the deepest sigh, humanly possible trying to figure out how to de-stress after todays events. There was just one thing. One singular thing that could help vanish this shitty day away. Whipping your phone out of your pocket you sped text your boyfriend, Josh.

You: Hey baby, I know you’ll still be at the studio when I get back but hopefully not for much longer, right? I need my daddy and I need level 10, please? Love you

Josh: Angel! Will be finishing up the vocals now and headed home after, so see you soon. Jesus fuck babe, level 10? Been a while, must have had a shit day? Daddy’s got you. Love you too, forever

You: Perfect, see you soon.

You and Josh had been together coming up four years, you were absolute best friends and knew each other inside out. Everyone knew that you two came as a package deal. He was a ray of sunshine, the most energetic human with the widest smile, always had optimism up his sleeve and on top of all that he was fucking gorgeous. The most beautiful dimples, a set of perfectly straight, white teeth with a tiny gap in his front two, caramel coloured eyes and curly brown hair, falling around his face.

Greta Van Fleet had blown up so quickly, it had been a bit of a whirlwind the last few years. They had millions of fans across the globe, people screaming their names at concerts, thousands of comments of admiration on their instagrams. But even with the weight of all of that, your relationship never once faltered. In fact, if anything, it just strengthened. You were so proud of the boys and were lucky enough to get to go on tour with them, so you and Josh didn’t have to be apart for long stints at a time. You had a lovely apartment together in Nashville and work were really understanding when you went on tour with him, letting you work remotely.

Your sex life was a whole different story. Everyone always knew you both as the most loved up, affectionate and gentle couple. Always calling each other pet names, touching in any capacity you could, two peas in a pod. Your sex life was incredible and very different to what people assumed it would be. You’d had a system that you’d built over the last couple of years, using the first two years of your relationship to explore each others bodies, likes, dislikes, turn ons, turn offs and kinks. Your system was simple and discreet enough for the two of you. 1 being loving, gentle, slow and romantic. 10 was hard, rough, bdsm, painful, dom/sub sex. You had normally stuck between 3-6 week to week, rarely ever using 10 but tonight you needed it. Josh knew of your Daddy issues and was completely okay with this name being used on certain occasions.

Finally after what felt like forever, you got through your front door, throwing your bag and coat on the floor beside you before throwing yourself on the plush, burgundy sofa. Your apartment always smelt like incense and was full of plants, colourful art work, Moroccan style rugs and sun catchers. You stared up at the ceiling taking deep breathes and decided to doze off for a bit before Josh got home. Before you knew it, you’d fallen into a light sleep.

You must have not been sleeping long before you felt a finger gently dragging along the bridge of your nose. “Hey baby, wakey wakey. I’ve missed you, it’s been an entire 10 hours since I last saw you.” You heard Josh giggle as he whispered to you. You knew the corners of your lips began to turn upwards but kept your eyes closed. Pretending to keep up the sleep facade, you ignored him, seeing how long it would take for him to crack. “Baaaaabyyyyy!! I’m here, wake up now!” The volume of his voice was definitely louder now and he had began raking his fingers through your hair. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing. You heard him let out a sigh of defeat. He knew you were faking it so decided to play you at your own game. “Well, I guess I’ll just go and make myself cum because my little whore is clearly too tired from her day.” He went to stand and you grabbed his wrist before he could walk away, pulling him on top of you.

He chuckled as he fell against you, laying on top of your torso with hands either side of your face. He lifted one of them, stroking your bottom lip with his index finger. “Ahh, did someone’s dreams become a nightmare?” He said through a mischievous grin. “Absolutely Joshy, I dreamt that my boyfriend wasn’t going to be throat fucking me any more.” You gave an over dramatic pout and puppy dog eyes. “Oh no, we wouldn’t want that. Because I definitely will be throat fucking you. Got to make Daddy happy, don’t we?” Before you could say anything else he firmly grasped his hand round your jaw, pushing your lips together. The pain from the inside of your cheeks pushing against your teeth sent a quiver through your body. “Now, from this moment on, you’ll listen to what I say, you’ll obey the rules I lay and you’re going to be a good whore for Daddy, aren’t you?” You nodded eagerly, eyes starting to water. “Good, now taste me.” He spat straight into your mouth before leaning forward to lick across your lips, all while his hand hadn’t moved from squashing them together. “Swallow me down, whore.” You did exactly as he asked.

Within seconds you were on your hands and knees with one of his hands wrapped around your hair, being used like a dog lead. “Follow me, slut.” He pulled you along by your hair towards the bedroom and you crawled on all fours behind him. Your stomach flipping at the thought of what was to come. Your shit day was already starting to wash away, you just wanted to be dominated, whilst simultaneously having the best orgasms you could get and hoping the rest of the world would disappear.

You eventually crawled your way into the bedroom, Josh being almost silent the entire walk there, only a small smirk across his face. “Up, now.” He pulled you up by your hair and he tightened it into his fist, causing your neck to snap back so you were looking up at him. “Go and stand against the wardrobe. Back against it, hands by your sides, palms faced flat against the doors. Don’t fucking move. You got it?” Curious as to what was in store you nodded “Yes.”

A soft slap across your cheek took the breath out of your lungs. “Yes what?”

He asked, holding onto your wrist. “Yes Daddy, I’ll do what you say.” His face lit up “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You filthy whore.” He placed a gentle kiss to your rising red cheek and pushed you in the direction of the wardrobe.

Back against it, like he asked, hands flat and pressed against the door, facing the bed. He was right in your eye line. Breath, shaky with the anticipation of what he had in mind. He sat at the edge of the bed, lent back on his hands, legs spaced widely apart. He had the look of sex in his eyes. He started reaching to the hem of his white jumper, pulling it over his head and winking at you as he threw it across the floor. Next, he kicked off his shoes, took off his socks, all whilst keeping eye contact.

You were practically writhing, stood in your place at the sight of his naked torso, you wanted him so bad. The heat between your legs had been building up long before this started and you could feel your wetness pooling. “So far, so good. You’re doing well for me. Aren’t you, you worthless slut?” The degrading names caused your clit to throb “Yes I am Daddy. Just for you, all for you.” He nodded, hands starting to slide to the growing bulge in his jeans, using his palm to rub over it. “Ahhh fuck…” his eyes rolled back and his head flopped backwards to reveal his delicious looking neck to you. You watched him lick his lips before he unbuckled his belt and placed it on the bed next to him, you knew it was going to be used later.

“You’re gonna watch me, baby. Watch me make myself feel good. You can’t do anything about it but watch.” Your stomach dropped. Oh fuck, how are you about to control yourself? How are you going to manage to stay still through this, you were already dripping at the show he was putting on. His hands were working fast to unbutton his jeans, you hear the zipper and watched him shimmy the denim and boxers off. The hardness of his cock making a slapping sound as it hit the bottom of his stomach. The smirk on his face is so fucking smug and you hate how much you love it. You’re clenching your legs together at the current sight, Josh sat fully naked on the edge of your bed with fuck me eyes.

“You like what you see, don’t you? You’ve seen this cock so many times before baby and you’re amazed every time. It’s yours, all yours. You want it bad, huh?” You stare, almost in a daze and nod your head, licking your lips. His hand makes his way down to the base and starts moving slowly up and down his length, thumbing up to the tip, collecting the drops of pre cum before smoothing them over himself. You can see it practically twitching in his hands. You’re digging your nails into the wood behind you to stop yourself from lunging forward.

“Oooooh shit, this feels so fucking good baby. You have no idea. You like how Daddy’s cock looks in his hand? Mmmm, I could cum just like this.” He licked him lips, staring straight into your eyes with whimpers escaping him and a heavy breath. You were throbbing at the sight. “Come here, baby.” He moaned out. Finally, you thought. You’re going to get to touch him. You started to walk over before his hand came up to halt you. “Uh uh, on your hands and knees, slut. Crawl to me.”

You did just that, no questions asked.

You made your way toward him before kneeling in front of him, face inches away from his cock, you could smell him and see every pulse and vein as his hand slowly worked over it. A light slap across your face snapped you out of your trance and his hand snaked it’s way around your throat with a firm grip. “You’re staring too hard you dirty whore. I bet you’re dripping for me, aren’t you? I want you to strip for me. Make it slow, show me that you’re worth it.”

Obeying his every wish, you slowly stood, keeping your eyes on his big caramel coloured irises and brushed your hair behind your shoulders before starting your strip tease for him. You’d never been overly confident in your body, picking faults and finding new things to be insecure about, daily. But Josh had changed that, he taught you how to fall in love with all of yourself. How to admire every little scar, stretch mark and all the insecurities that would eat away at you. He made you feel sexy, beautiful and confident. So doing things like this in front of him was less of a dreaded thing and more of a thrill seek.

Your shoes and socks were already off and you were just left in black leggings and an oversized hoodie. Thank god you chose today to wear matching underwear. You turned round slowly, back to him, shimmying your leggings down the curve of your ass, giving a spank on your left cheek before taking them off completely, lifting your hoodie to show your ass, giving a little shake. His eyes were lighting up at the sight of your ass shaking in the thong. You very slowly body rolled your way out of the hoodie before you were left in the matching navy blue set he got you one Valentines holiday. You ran your hands up and down your curves, using your finger tips to trace over the cups of your bra and the hem of your thong. You turned back to him, wearing a smug smile.

Josh had dramatically slowed down his hand movements, jaw gaped open at the sight before him. He stood and made his way over to you, tracing his hands over your shoulders before turning you back around, facing away from him. “Touch the floor, baby. I want to see you bent over.” Knees bent slightly, you palmed the floor with your ass up in the air. “Mmm, good fucking girl, such a good girl, baby. You look so good.” CRACK, a searing pain felt across both ass cheeks made you jolt and your knees buckle. Josh hurried to keep you from falling. “You gotta take these whips like a good whore. Stay still. You’ll stay still for me, won’t you? You know the safe word if it gets too much.” The after sting felt so good and you knew there would be belt shaped bruises splayed across you tomorrow. “Yes Daddy, I promise. Punish me.” You sounded pathetic and desperate. The leather hitting you three more times, Josh asking you to count with him with each blow to the ass. Your cheeks were numb by the time he was finished, watery eyes and an almost hoarse voice from your screams and moans.

He knelt down with his face centimetres from your ass. “Such an obedient little slut. So desperate, so pathetic. I love it.” He delicately kissed his way over both your ass cheeks, lightly grazing his fingertips over the raised marks, a slight burn with each pass he made. “Marked the way you should be, by me. I can see how wet you are. Your underwear is practically stuck to your pussy. You’re leaking out the sides, baby. Fuccck.”

He laid his palms flat against each ass cheek and used his thumbs either side of the crack to trace down to your entrance, pulling apart slightly when he got to your pussy. “Looks so good, whore. Wanna taste? Don’t answer that, it’s not a question. Taste yourself for me.” Without hesitating, you slid your hand in between your legs, dipping under the lace and curled two fingers into your entrance, you were soaked. You brought them up to parted lips and sucked off your juice. You tasted sweet, fresh and wanted more. “Mmmm, so good Daddy and all for you.” You could hear him grinning through his words “You’re damn right, you cum slut. My turn. Don’t fucking move.”

His hands made their way to the top of your thong, pulling down gently, hooking his index finger under the thin fabric between your cheeks he pulled forward and let them fall to the floor. “There she is. Pretty, soaked pussy. Ahhh baby, look at her. Almost as pretty as you.” He gave a firm but quick spank to your cunt before leaning forward and blowing gently over it. You were whimpering, your entire core burning, twinging. You were so desperate for just some sort of touch. Then he stood up and backed off. Feeling deflated you let out a sigh. “Aww poor baby, thought I was gonna eat you out? No. You’re here to serve me right now, come here and choke on Daddy’s dick.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, lent back on his elbows, legs slightly spread and he gave you a nod. You hopped down to your knees looking up at him through your lashes and he placed a finger under your chin before grabbing your throat tightly, choking you and knocking the air out of your lungs. “Take that bra off, I wanna see those tits bounce while you suck me.” Reaching behind your back, you released the clasp and threw the bra to the side of the room. Your nipples were already hard and so sensitive so it made you squeal when Josh lent forward twisting them in his fingers. He moaned at the sight of your eyes rolling back at the pleasure he was giving you. “Such a bombshell, baby. Will never get tired of this view. Now put that mouth to good use, you pathetic slut.”

Doing as you were told, you slotted yourself between his parted legs and took him in your hand. It was warm and rock solid, twitching with any movement your hand made. His lips parted and his eyes were fixed on yours. You gave a long firm stroke from the base to the tip, leaving your tongue on the tip, lapping up any pre cum you could, just for a taste. He was impatient, not wanting to be teased, he grabbed your hair into his fist, pulling your head back “Open up baby. Use this and make it sloppy.” He grunted before spitting into your mouth. He pushed you onto his cock, you took him all the way back until you could feel the tip hit the back of your throat. “Ahhhh shit, you dirty fucking slut. Take it all.” He was pushing himself into you, keeping your hair fisted into his hand. Your mouth was full, eyes watering, gagging around his length, you could barely breathe but my god was it making you spill down your thighs. “Mmmm, let me fuck that mouth of yours, stay still for me.” You placed your hands on his thighs, knowing what was to come. He started slowly thrusting in and out of your lips, his mouth falling apart and letting out disgruntled moans with each pass. He was warm and slightly salty from the pre cum, so hard and you could feel every bump, vein and crevice of him. You sucked him in with every thrust.

“So good, such an obedient whore for me. But I’m not ready to cum yet. Up. Stand up, now.” He stood up, pulling you up by your hair and walked you over to the bed before pushing you down. He grabbed your ankles and pulled you down so your ass was half hanging off the edge. He knelt in between your legs, taking one of them over his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m going to enjoy this baby.” he breathed, his eyes found yours before reaching down and dragging a finger over your slit. “Tell me. How much do you enjoy having your cunt eaten? You want my face buried in that pretty pussy of yours until you cum on my tongue?” You nodded eagerly holding onto his hand, your other gripping desperately onto the sheets.

With that he gave you a wink and licked through your folds, his tongue flat and wide as he did. Repeating this, he made sure to stay around your clit, sucking gently at it before pushing his weight up on his hands and staring up at you. “Now, be a good girl and ride my face.” he demanded, his pupils blown out, causing his eyes to turn from that caramel colour to almost black. With that, he moved to lay at the head of the bed, grabbing your hand and pulling you to him as you got up on your knees. “Hurry up baby, don’t keep me waiting.”

You crawled up the bed to meet him and straddled his shoulders, peering down at him as he snaked his arms around your thighs. Pulling you in closer, a grin forming on his face as you moved your knees to either side of his head. He leant up and connected his mouth to your waiting cunt. The contact made you shiver, moaning out as he pulled you down onto his face. His tongue made quick work of lapping and licking at your entrance, the bridge of his nose connecting with your pulsing clit each time he moved his face. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the headboard to steady yourself as you begin to roll yourself down, fucking yourself on his tongue. You could hear him slurping and licking, moaning at the taste and feel of you as the grip he had around your thighs tightened. He used his hands to guide your pussy over his face, making sure his nose hit all of the sensitive spots his tongue couldn’t as his mouth paid special attention to your entrance. His tongue flicked around you in the most delicious ways until you felt your legs begin to shake. You could feel yourself getting close, the flames in your stomach getting hotter and coursing through you. Panting and near on screaming, you dropped your head back “Daddy, I’m gonna cum. Please, please can I cum?” You wailed out. “Yes baby, feed me. Let that cunt go.” That was the command you needed, soaking his mouth and chin as he drank you up. He continued to lick and suck at your pussy as his hands held you still over him. You were shaking violently at the over stimulation. “Fuccccck, oh fuck fuck fuck. I can’t Daddy, fuck it’s so good.” He just laughed at you, continuing to hold you in place, knowing it was verging on painful. When he felt satisfied with the work he’d done, he loosened his grip on you and tapped your thigh gently.

“Come clean me up, baby.” Knowing exactly what was expected of you, you crawled over to him and licked over any remnants of you on his face. “Come here good girl, lay on your back. Hold your legs against your chest. Gonna make you squirt, you know I love making you squirt. I want you to cover me.” You lay on your back, interlocking your fingers behind your thighs and bringing them to your chest. He knelt next to you, one hand keeping your ankles together and his other giving slaps to your dripping, overly sensitive cunt. He spat on it before plunging two fingers into your entrance. He started slow, curling his fingers upwards each time he entered, hitting that sweet spot. He used his thumb to rub gentle circles onto your clit as he sped up his fingers that were fucking you. You were panting fast and moans started to fall out of your mouth. Your eyes were rolling back, your neck craned upwards as you used your free hand to clutch onto your tits, playing with your nipples.

“What a worthless slut, you are. Look at this pretty cunt, needs to be filled more I think.” He entered another finger, stretching you open further. “Oh fuck, fuccccck Daddy. So good.” He started to vigorously pump his fingers in and out of you and you could feel yourself getting to your breaking point. Your clit was aching with the contact from his thumb, his fingers so deep inside of you. The sides of your pussy aching as he was pounding his hand against your entrance. “I’m gonna cum daddy, please please. I need to cum.” He smiled, fucked out eyes, sweat glistening over his entire body. “Give it to me baby, squirt all over me.” Just like magic, he released his fingers and started to rub them over your entire cunt back and forth with high speed as your spray hit him, the floor, the bed and your legs. Your back arched high off the bed, the screams were so loud you are sure your neighbours would have heard, you were sweating and you felt paralysed by pleasure. He had his mouth open and tongue out, collecting any juice he could catch as it squirted out of you. “I’ll never get tired of that sight, baby.”

He gave you a couple of minutes to collect yourself, your chest aching from how hard you’d been breathing. You shuffled yourself up to the head of the bed, knowing Josh was ready to fuck. You’d already cum twice and he would want at least two more orgasms from you before he would be willing to release his own. He placed himself between your legs, leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. This took you by surprise because whenever you were having level 10 sex, it was almost an unspoken rule that you didn’t kiss on the lips. You smiled sweetly, spreading yourself for him. “Ready for you, Daddy. Want your cock, please.” He ran the tip of his dick through your folds and teased at your entrance, watching your face as he did. “God you’re so wet for me again, didn’t take long did it? You desperate whore.”

The sting of pleasure pulsed around you as you felt Josh’s cock stretch and fill you up. You’d barely just recovered from your last orgasm. He held himself there for a moment so you could adjust to the feeling of him before pulling out of you fully. Thrusting back into your waiting cunt, desperate to be stretched around him again, he lent forward and bit your jaw before spitting over your face and giving a firm slap to your tits. He did this several times alternating between each boob. Each time, you cried out his name, your fingernails digging into his back as he drug you through an inferno of pleasure, pushing you towards the edge of release with each pound. You could hear the squelch of your wetness pooling at your entrance with each thrust. He could tell that you were dangling on the edge of your orgasm, your legs quaking against his body and your arousal soaking him with each thrust into your pussy, he moved a hand between the two of you, circling his thumb around your clit in slow, tight movements.

“That’s my good girl.” he coaxed, thumb still circling your most sensitive spot. As his cock pumped into you more aggressively, his moans now getting louder. “Give it to me baby, I can tell you’re right there.” He spoke with his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, before biting down, sucking a small mark into the skin there as he felt you finally release, clenching around him and crying out his name. “Fuck Josh, I’m cumming, Joshy baby… Ahh I’m cumming so hard around your fucking cock, Daddy.” Slowing down, just pounding as hard as he could every few seconds, he let you come down. “Yes baby, say my fucking name. Nobody makes that pussy feel as good as I do.” He slapped your face, hard before grabbing your throat.

He smiled down at you before making more demands. His sudden movement, or lack there of, caught you off guard. “On your knees, ass up.” He shouted, moving away from you to give you room. When you moved a little too slow for his liking, rolling onto your stomach before pushing up onto your knees, he cracked a stinging slap to the right side of your ass, it would be joining the belt bruises from earlier. “I don’t have time to be waiting for you, cum slut.” You positioned yourself so your chest was pressed to the mattress and your ass was as high up in the air as you could get it. You felt him grab onto your hips, he gave you no time to ready yourself before burying himself balls deep within your tight, wet pussy.

In this position he was able to fuck into you deeper, pulling you back to him with every roll of his hips. The sound of his balls slapping against your clit at a furious pace drowned out both of your moans. You know you weren’t supposed to but you couldn’t help but beg him to fuck you harder and faster. All you could do was grab at the sheets on the bed, your body shaking violently as you climbed towards another orgasm. He shut you up by reaching his hands round to your face, hooking his fingers into your cheeks and pulling your mouth back, using them as reigns. His cock repeatedly hit that sweet spot deep within you that so few had found before. He had you climbing that ladder, helping you get closer and closer to the top each time before backing off. He was edging you and each time you would slide your way back into the agonizing pit of darkness that he drug you through with each deep thrust of his thick cock. You felt like you couldn’t take it anymore. You were overstimulated, fucked out, too sensitive, and begging for sweet release. “Please, please, Daddy. Please, please I need to cum. I can’t, I can’t. Please!” You cried out until finally, finally as Josh moved one leg up to rest onto his foot, you felt him at a new angle. This one caused your head to drop forward, white heat racing through your body as that tight coil of desire snapped and sprung loose within you. You clenched down around him, your walls fluttering and pulsing as your arousal soaked him. The noises your bodies made as they met and pulled apart became wet and sloppy.

Josh was about to give into his own release, his body leaning over yours as his mouth fell near your ear. “That’s my beautiful whore, feel your cum round my cock. You hear that? So wet.” He released his hands from inside your mouth and onto your hips again. He pushed one hand onto your lower back, forcing you flat against the bed as he leaned over fucking into you as hard and deep as he could. “Oh baby, that’s it. Take it, fuck. You take my dick so good, gonna cum in that sweet, pretty pussy.” He moaned, releasing his load into your spent cunt. You felt him paint the inside of your walls. His thrusts slowed, faltered, stilled and finally stopped. He pulled out and ordered you onto your hands knees again, so he could watch his cum drip out of you. “Mmm, let’s not have this escape. You’re mine and I need to mark you.” He entered two fingers inside of you, pushing his release back into you. You arched your back at the contact, he was furiously fingering you until you came again, and with both his and your cum on his fingers, he was satisfied.

“Come here, baby. Let’s taste together.” He pulled your mouth to his, dancing tongues and lips messily before he placed fingers between both your mouths, so you could each get a taste. You let out a joint moan at the taste of your releases. “I love you so much, baby” he breathed, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you too, so so much.” After a little and very gentle make out session, he stroked his fingers through your hair as you spoke about your days before deciding to clean up.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bubble bath he had ran. Two bottles of water waiting for you both. He carefully got in behind you. You lay back with your head against his chest as he scattered kisses over your shoulders and neck. He washed your hair for you and made sure your were clean and not too sore after your session. Taking special care of the bruises he had left, being as gentle as possible. “Thank you for making a shit day, much better. Best way to release stress is when Daddy comes out.” You giggled, looking back at him. He reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and kissed you sweetly on the lips. “You’re welcome my gorgeous girl. You’re worth it. I’d do anything for you, I’m sorry you had a shitty day, but so glad I could improve it. I love you so fucking much.” He placed more kisses over your face. “Now, let’s order some food, you can choose! We’ll cuddle up on the sofa and we’ll stick Shrek on the TV. How does that sound?” He smiled at you. Resting the side of your face against his chest, you smiled up at him. “Perfect, I’m so lucky I have you in my life. I love you, Joshy.”

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stillfoodforguys · 1 year

Text

“That’s right, drink that all up and you’ll start shrinking. You’ll go from 6 foot to a puny 6 inches in about an hour.” It sounded hard to believe, but when I was offered the ultimate domination session by this gorgeous hunk I was ready to try anything.

I downed the drink he gave me and lay back on his bed, letting him spread my thighs wide and enter me with his girthy manhood. He leaned forward while he fucked me and wrapped his muscular arms around me, pinning me against his hairy body that only seemed to grow larger and more powerful as time went on. As if his cock wasn’t large enough, since my hole was gradually getting smaller and tighter, I could feel his cock stretching me more and going deeper with each thrust.

Once I was about half my original size it would no longer fit inside me, so the man flipped us over and rested me on top of him. He tucked his hands behind his head and let me enjoy worshipping his giant body, sucking on his nipples before clambering across to his sweaty pits. Still getting smaller, he was soon able to lower his arm and completely trap my head beneath his supple flesh, smothering me in musky darkness while I pathetically tried to squirm free.

When I was just over a foot tall, he released me from his armpit only to pick me up and dangle me above his open maw, his tongue rolling out of his mouth like a red carpet to welcome me inside. He slipped my legs into his mouth before gently closing his lips around my waist. I shivered at the sensation of his huge, wet tongue writhing all over me, in addition to the general fear that his domination might end with him devouring me.

I was slowly sucked deeper into his mouth until I finally hit my smallest size, and right before I expected to be swallowed, he pulled me out again and looked at my saliva coated body with a sinister smile. “You do look like a tasty little morsel right now, but I’ve got something else planned that’ll feel even better for me…” Instead of eating me, he brought me towards his huge erection, taking advantage of my lubed up body to help him push my feet into the slit of his cock with a soft moan.

With his fingers wrapped around me and pinning my arms to my sides, he gradually forced me down his incredibly tight shaft. It must have been sensitive inside, as even the slightest amount of struggling caused him to moan even louder. The smell of his cum grew stronger as my head approached the opening, until it was the only part of me exposed to the outside world. Gently taking hold of his shaft, he placed his thumb on top of my head and gave it the final shove it needed to fully seal me inside him.

Once it had complete hold of my tiny body, his cock throbbed and dragged me down just like if I had been swallowed. I slowly sank into the pool of thick, warm liquid residing in his left nut, suddenly being shaken around inside by the force of him jerking off to the incomparable pleasure he was feeling. I prayed that I would be released once he reached his climax, but unfortunately I wasn’t so lucky. My curled up body was too large to fit back into the passage I entered through, so all of his cum instead rushed past me before he fired it across his bathroom floor.

“That was incredible… Now you get the privilege of becoming my next load. Enjoy the ride, little man!”

I could feel his hand massaging his swollen sack as I squirmed around trying to find an exit, having my strength sapped away by the intense heat and thinning air. I passed out after a short while, letting his balls melt me down into a new batch of his manly seed.

#gay vore #mm vore #cock vore #digestion

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pastanest · 1 year

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Brienne x she/her!reader

Flowers

Blinking rapidly, she recalls the events that have led her here. In the short time that she has served as your sworn sword, Brienne of Tarth has come to understand feelings that she had been so certain she would never be lucky enough to experience. Like many things, Brienne was under the impression that love was simply not something she would ever be allowed to have, until she was introduced to you.

The compliments that you showered her with upon meeting her, and have continued to give her each and everyday since, have had a profound effect on the young knightley woman. At first, Brienne pondered the possibility that you could be teasing her, but there was something about the sincerity in your words that she simply couldn't shake. As if to prove yourself to her, to win her heart in a game that you most likely did not even realize you were playing, you were proud to walk at her side, to take her arm in public and gaze up at her like she was some great masterpiece, rather than the hideous monster she thought herself to be. Often, you have dragged her - Brienne will tell you she very much resisted your efforts, but if she actually had, you would not have been able to move her an inch - over to your full length mirror and pointed out her features in the form of specifically tailored compliments that she had never heard before. The color of her hair and eyes, how smooth and soft her skin is, how beautiful her smile is, how strong her arms are, how long and, in your own words, incredible, her legs are - all said without even a hint of malice, solely admiration.

Having spent every waking moment thinking very deeply about your gestures of kindness, Brienne has come to the conclusion that she has very quickly found herself at your mercy, in being head-over-silver-boots in love with you. She is not naive to adore you based solely on your treatment towards her, but in serving as your sworn sword, she has seen the person you are, how you talk to and treat everyone with a kindness like no other; Brienne has observed the way you live, breathe and smile long enough to know that her heart pines for you in a way that causes her physical pain, and she can withhold her feelings no longer.

And so, blinking rapidly, Brienne unsheathes her sword and begins to cut an array of flowers, laying them neatly down on the ground as she orders them in what she believes to be the most presentable way she can. Obviously, she asked the owner of this garden - your father - permission to pluck some flowers, and also asked for his blessing in presenting them to you, both of which he agreed to with a cheerful smile. Your family, much like you, continue to show Brienne a kindness and understanding that she has not received anywhere else, which does make her wonder if the rest of the world, beyond you, is even worth exploring.

Once arranged, Brienne picks the flowers up in her hand and examines the carefully organized bouquet, nodding to herself. Then, she sits on the edge of the flowerbed and waits. When she had asked you this morning to meet her in this enclosed part of the garden within the hour, Brienne had not anticipated that the preparations of her gift to you would only take 30 minutes.

Half an hour later, you step through the clearing, and Brienne stands to attention, clasping her hands at her back to hide the bouquet and dip her head to you in a gesture of respect.

“My Lady.”

You grin at her. “Lady Brienne, I have missed your company this past hour! Please, tell me, what is the meaning of you parting from me for such an eternity?”

The laugh that only you can pull from Brienne, passes her lips at your sweet, playful words. “I do apologize, my Lady, I was preparing something for you.”

Curiosity twinkles in your eyes then, and you take a step closer to her. “For me? Lady Brienne, you must not spoil me, I already have everything I could possibly need now that you are in front of me again.”

Her heart sighs in her chest, your words weighing heavy there. “You are too kind, my Lady. That kindness, amongst every other aspect of you, is my reason for asking your father’s permission to present these to you…”

Brienne trails off, slowly bringing her clasped hands in front of her and unveiling the bouquet of carefully organized flowers, which she holds out to you.

The smile on your face begins to wobble, and you hurry to blink back tears. “Lady Brienne, a gesture like this…I must be certain of your intention before I accept it.”

Nodding in understanding, Brienne takes a deep breath. “They are intended in the traditional sense, my Lady.”

It takes several seconds for her words to sink in, and Brienne’s heart pounds irregularly in her chest for each and every one. Then, without warning, you take the bouquet from her hands and launch yourself at her. Jumping up to wrap your arms around her armored neck, clasping the flowers at the back of her head, and sniffling into her shoulder.

“In the traditional sense, I accept, Lady Brienne.” You chuckle.

A pair of strong, armored arms wrap around your waist, holding you against her as she breathes in your familiar scent that she has only previously smelt from beside her, but has now enveloped her entirely. Closing her eyes, Brienne feels a sense of peace and freedom like no other, in being granted permission to express such feelings, and for them to be reciprocated.

In that moment, Brienne of Tarth knows that should she ever be in any battle in which the odds are truly against her, when death is on the horizon and closing in from every angle, she will think back to this first time she held you, and it will either serve as the greatest motivation to wage war against death itself, or be the most blissful memory to leave this plain of existence with.

#brienne of tarth #brienne of tarth x reader #brienne of tarth imagine #brienne x reader #game of thrones #x reader #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #headcannons

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angellayercake · 10 months

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Ghost Fandom Fic Recs

This is such a great idea @ghuleh-recs thank you so much tagging me in yours and saying such lovely things about Banchetto!

I must say this is by no means an exhaustive list of the writers I admire but on digging through my tags and my AO3 bookmarks these are the ones that had my giggling and kicking my feet all over again

And this is getting really long so I'm am going to try to limit myself to one fic per amazing person 💜 haha I failed so hard at that you are all too talented.

@ghostchems I actually gobble up everything chems writes like a greedy little gremlin and I love her OCs as much as I love the Papas. But as I recently admitted I have been fangirling about her since before I was lucky enough to be her friend so Black Light Guides You is my go to for many reasons. It's got the signature horny/horror Chems blend as well as our boy getting resurrected and taking back his rightful position. I love how Terzo and Marion's relationship develops and I am so excited about where they are headed in the ongoing sequel A Perpetual Rise. And then Burn with me!!!! I came for Dracopia and stayed for Mia.

@ramblingoak The Queen of AUs if you want a Papa in any kind of situation Oak is the person you need. If I start talking about The Cardinal's Bride I will actually never shut up and Oak suffers enough word vomit about it from me so I will stop there. But I will say Oak is an incredible all rounder. Every thing she writes it is great and there is something fantastic for everyone. Sexy Cardinals, Mary Goore, Vibrating Pants, Ghaseball, Rat Birthday Parties or Zombies have at it!!

@the-hole-in-terzos-shoe No matter what the scenario Shoe writes the most romantic, charming Terzo you will ever read. I was going to rec the incredible My Dirty Little Secret and Let's get these heels off... which was inspired by our mutual love of Vita deVoid's Terzo but then she dropped Intro to Romantic Literature yesterday and I haven't been able to stop thinking about Professor Terzo so just go read both.

@sucharide If you want to read about some of the darkest depravity written in the most beautiful poetic way you could ever imagine then Roach is the writer for you and A Problem of Mind and Body is the perfect example. But my personal favourite and the first I read I think is Ritual and Ruination a silly and sexy look at the consequences of rituals gone wrong. And who am I kidding I can't not put Poor Beast in the Catacombs on here.

@zombiequeenblog I tell everyone who will listen to me about Cardinal Copia: A Sadistic and Glorious Bastard. It was my first Dark Copia fic and still to this day my favourite Copia characterisation. He is such a well rounded full character in this and I can't get enough. It's hot, it's emotional, it's scary at times but I can count on my hand how many couples I am as invested in and these two are at the top of my list. The world building is incredible, this version of The Abbey is so vibrant and all the side characters are so fleshed out. I have an especially large soft spot for Terzo in this fic he is the perfect dramatic flirt and I would give anything to be one of his girls.

@honeyynymphh Reading anything by Missy is like reading a gothic horror classic. The way she builds atmosphere is second to none a little nightmarish, a little maudlin (good golly go get this kid some laudanum!) is such a great example. And another one of my favourite Copia characterizations especially in The Mark of the Beast, Freshly Squeezed and my personal favourite there’s total depravity (standing right in front of me) he is so mean and I love it so much.

@kissingghouls SUCK CLUB!! I can't possibly decide which one of these is my favourite. I love this whole universe. There is so much going on and I can't wait to get to the bottom of the ongoing vampire mystery. I love how they all interact and I love that the all read The Cardinal's Bride! The Count, The King, and The Prince and I just love them all!

@xfilesinamajor With Wandering Steps and Slow This Terzo!!! This one right here is my favourite, god this fic breaks my heart but it is so so so perfect. His self esteem, his natural charm as a defense mechanism god I am obsessed with it. Also The Peach is one of the hottest ghost fics I have ever read. The ghoullettes really need to get more action, especially if it's like this

@writingjourney Everything Ibi writes is just so perfect. The slow burn of Honey and Venom and Unprecedented have me on the edge of my seat. But I have to especially urge everyone to read Friday Nights at the Cinema Club because if you aren't a Primo fan you are wrong and this will show you exactly why. Like I said, perfect!

@sweatandwoe I am always impressed with the ideas that sweaty comes up with. Really fun and original and hot. These assorted drabbles and headcanons are an excellent place to start. Study Break is so incredibly hot and The Sacrifice was a real highlight from petrifying papas. I also can't rec sweaty without mentioning the Saren fics because WOW. If you have any interest in Mass Effect and Turians then you have to read Overflow and Melting Point

@inkstainedrat Lacrimis et Memorias This fic broke my heart and put it back together again. It is the definition of bittersweet and yeah. I have a lot of feelings about Terzo and this story pokes every single one of them and is another one that stays with me.

@violet-lazer Another one of my favourite Terzo writers, in Pride, Incumbent and Astronomy he is so charming and lovely. Also Terms of Engagement Copia is such a cutie

@whatawonderfulexistence--blog Distractions is a lovely first date with Terzo and then Strawberries because i do love when he is being all seductive. Also I'm not fully caught up with Powerwolf yet but Atone was so HOT

@hallowed-be-thy-username Kissing the Obscene was the Terzo fic I ever read and Please Papa was the second and I just keep going back to them. I had started to fall in love with Terzo already but reading these and all the others really sealed the deal. And also coincidentally one of my favourite papa cosplayers!!

#the band ghost fic #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #fic recs

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burningfieldof-clover · 11 months

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gold necklace

@clonexreaderbingo prompt: tech warnings: fluff, tech is cute dedicated to @ilovestarwarsmen725 word count: 793

You hadn’t seen Tech in a few days. This wasn’t abnormal. Sometimes he would fall into very long stints of being holed up in his workshop just creating and tinkering with things. You didn’t worry, though. That was his happy place. He’d come home when he was ready. Either he was hungry and ran out of food in his shop, needed someone to infodump to, or he just finally remembered that he missed you.

This was all okay because you still visit him. There was a spot for you to sit and observe or take a nap just to be near him. If you did nap, Tech would sometimes drape a blanket over you, kiss your forehead, or even take a moment to rest himself.

One night he finally came into the house. He was tapping away on his datapad. His face was brushed with dirt and oil. You smiled. If Tech were to move his goggles even slightly, you’d probably find clean skin underneath.

“Mesh’la,” he says, gaining your attention. “I didn’t realize how many rotations I had spent in there. Did you visit me?”

“A couple times,” you answered. “You looked like you were having fun.”

Tech looked up at you and smiled. His smile reached his beautiful eyes. He caressed your face and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I am so lucky to have you. I never thought I’d be able to find such an effortless balance between work and a relationship.”

The kiss left you with a dazed smile. “It just works out for us. You’re not the only lucky one.”

Tech sat his datapad down on the countertop. “Speaking of us,” he started while reaching into his pocket, “I have something for you.”

You perked up at those words. “What is it?”

“You must close your eyes.”

You did as he asked.

Tech took the gift out of his pocket. You heard his awkward steps approach you and stand behind you. Raising a brow, you were increasingly curious but kept quiet. You felt something cross your clavicle and wrap around your neck with delicacy, ending behind you with Tech’s skilled fingers brushing across your skin briefly.

“You may look.”

Blinking your eyes open, your hands raised to your collarbone to feel the item. You could barely see it. Tech grabbed his datapad then held it in front of you with both of his hands while still behind you. He opened up the camera.

Staring back at you on the screen is the hopeful gaze of Tech, waiting for your opinion, and the mirror image of yourself. You leaned forward to look at the necklace Tech has gifted you.

The tiniest links have been crafted and laced together to make a beautiful looking twist in the chain. There is no charm or centerpiece to this necklace, but it shines so brilliantly.

“Tech, this is beautiful! You didn’t have to…”

Tech smirks and you watch him do it on the camera still pointed at the both of you. “A lot of my projects have been to break down electronics and repurpose them for other things, and since gold is so incredibly conductive, there is a surplus of it in most items I work with. I’ve been keeping the gold set aside for future projects, and I decided to try my hand at making jewelry.”

Your eyes widened at his explanation. “Wait, Tech, you made this? For me?”

“But of course, darling. I hope it meets your standards.”

“Are you kidding me? This is incredible!”

Tech smiled and kissed your cheek. “Would you do me the honor of smiling, mesh’la?”

Since it was a rare sentiment, you obliged. You snuggled a little closer to Tech and smiled into the datapad’s camera. Tech snapped a photo of the two of you, and then another one with him kissing the side of your head.

The photos were such a nice addition to his gift. He was being so affectionate that it was making your heart warm and your body melt.

“Did you know that gold is the third most conductive metal? It pales compared to copper and the more impressive silver. They are not items I come across often. But, the symbolism in this necklace is that I have poured my conductive energy and intelligence into it so that you will always feel me with you. Especially on the days that I am incredibly busy. I hope that you get my meaning.”

You nodded as your fingers brushed across the chain. Tech took a few strides away to find a drink. “Tech?” you called quietly.

“Yes?” he answered without looking over.

“I love you.”

A smile formed on his lips that you could see from his profile. “And I you, darling.”

#the bad batch #tbb #star wars #tbb tech #tbb tech x you #tbb tech x reader #tech x you #fluff #clone x reader bingo #clonexreaderbingo

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chaoticbardlady99 · 4 months

Note

Fluff of companion pairing of your choice taking care of each other after a really hard fought battle (not related to their own personal quests), maybe when one of them went down or was severely wounded. Both feeling like they aren't "enough".

Needing space from everyone else, but realizing that being near each other was still okay. Soft words, tenderness. Safety, security, wholeness.

As the World Caves In (Karlach x Shadowheart)

Author note- I’m so sorry, this has been sitting in my inbox for a hot minute but I really wanted to feel confident. I’ve only romanced Astarion, but I’ve watched quite a bit of Karlach and Shadowheart content and I’m OBSESSED WITH THEM! So I hope you enjoy :) I definitely think I didn’t go the direction you were thinking, but this just flowed better for me.

P.S. lightly edited

CW: mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, mentions of Astarion x Tav

Picture from Kazuliski’s YouTube video about Karlach’s dinner date.

Karlach gently strokes Shadowheart’s hair as she sleeps soundly against Karlach’s chest. Shadowheart tells her the warmth from her engine soothes her to sleep like no other herb can. She also appreciates the white noise which made Karlach laugh so hard she peed herself when Shadowheart said it initially.

Karlach wishes it would help her sleep tonight too.

It had been an incredibly difficult day at Last Light Inn- Marcus had been a surprise for all of them. Shadowheart had been the first to make contact with the monsters he brought with him. Shadowheart had frozen- in the midsts of a religious crisis- and was struck down. Three of the creatures had descended on her as she screamed for help. Karlach had killed them all in swift, swinging blows, but the damage had been done. Karlach was grateful Isobel hadn’t been taken- she isn’t sure if Shadowheart would have recovered without her.

The moment Shadowheart sat upright and gasping for air was the same moment Karlach swept her up- the two of them crying while holding one another. Karlach supposes that you don’t accidentally walk into fear- to some extent everything must have some reason. She’s decided that fear finds you, hunts you for sport, and it makes a home in your heart. Karlach never thought she would ever feel that scared again in her life after Zariel had shoved the infernal engine in her body, but all that suffering had been ripped out and put on display again the moment Shadowheart began to scream for help. It certainly hasn’t gone away since- it’s only grown and created more worries.

Karlach is suffering from her own internal chatter. Almost losing Shadowheart today made her affection for her become slightly melancholy. She realized she doesn’t want to live without Shadowheart, but she is going to have to. Karlach will be in the Fugue plane all alone while she watches Shadowheart have a life.

At the beginning of the journey, the idea of dying a free woman at the end of this giant debacle was a tolerable thought. She wants to believe that she will be able to explore with Tav, Shadowheart, and the rest of their companions after this is all over. Karlach even imagines a world where her and Shadowheart live together- going on double dates with Tav and Astarion, becoming properly reacquainted with Baldur’s Gate together, and maybe one day she could even convince Shadowheart to adopt a couple children. They could grow old together, go on dinner dates, explore the world, and just be in love for as long as the Gods would allow them to be.

Karlach isn’t that lucky though and that’s what drives the tears down her face. She stiffles the sobs in her chest as Shadowheart continues to snore- not wanting to wake up her healing Wonder Woman.

It hurts to know when this is all over that everyone else will get to move on and she will simply cease to exist. Shadowheart will move on and have a life with someone else one day- Karlach will be nothing but a distant memory.

She doesn’t want that- not even a little bit. It makes her even more angry with Gortash than she was before. He really took everything from her at the end- even her future.

Astarion and Tav sit together at the fire, talking excitedly, and as happy as Karlach is for them, she can’t help but be incredibly envious. Astarion frequently worries that his inability to be out in the sun after this will scare Tav off- at least he won’t instantaneously combust. Also Tav is half-Drow, she could probably give a shit less about being in the sun anyway.

She didn’t realize that her sobs had become more aggressive.

Karlach doesn’t want to die. She thought she lost Shadowheart today and it felt like the whole world had caved in on her. Now she has to prepare herself to look her love in the eyes one last time as she takes her last breaths too?

It’s so Gods Damn unfair it makes her chest hurt.

“Karlach?”

Shadowheart is propped up and staring up at her with concern. Karlach tries to smile and just breaks into a fit of crying again. She sits up and pulls Shadowheart into her lap- the smaller female’s face resting in the crook of Karlach’s neck.

“What’s wrong, K?” Shadowheart whispers softly while rubbing Karlach’s back.

“I- I though- I lost you and I just,” Karlach chokes on her words, “I don’t want to die, Shadowheart. I want to stay here with you and grow old and senile together.”

The silence in the air isn’t uncomfortable or daunting- it’s melancholy and pessimistic. The grief is all consuming.

“I don’t want you to die either, K,” Shadowheart says, her own tears streaming now, “I have never met someone like you and I don’t think I ever will again.”

“You will,” Karlach says with a choked laugh, “and you’ll forget all about me.”

Shadowheart has Karlach’s face in her hands and is kissing her- hard- before looking at her with the most adorable, angry face Karlach has ever seen.

“That will never happen,” Shadowheart scolds, “and don’t you ever speak those words again or I’ll- I’ll….”

Shadowheart sits and thinks for a second- looking past Karlach’s shoulder with her eyebrows furrowed before shrugging her shoulders.

“I don’t actually know what I would do, but I can and will turn you into a sheep if that’s what it takes to never hear you say that again.”

“I’ll just keep BAAING until you change me back, you know.”

“Then I suppose we’re having lamb chops one night for dinner.”

Karlach laughs loudly and Shadowheart joins in- leaning her forehead against Karlach’s. When their laughter dies down, they just sit there and breathe each other in.

Shadowheart reminds Karlach of a walk at night under a full moon, but right after it rains- when the dew makes the grass sparkle and the world looks like magic.

Shadowheart is magic. She makes Karlach feel like she could do anything. Karlach would lay her life on the line a thousand times over for Shadowheart and never regret it. Shadowheart could betray her and Karlach would still thank her for their time together. How lucky is Karlach to have a chance at love at all? Maybe that’s not worth throwing away in spite of how scared shitless she is to end up in Zariel’s hands again.

“The only way I will survive,” Karlach whispers, “is if I go back to Avernus. Wyll offered to go with me and like that’s great and all, but…. It’s- he’s not you.”

Shadowheart’s delicate, callused fingers wipe away the ghosts of Karlach’s tears before she leaves a lingering kiss on Karlach’s forehead.

“I love you, Karlach. I want you to live, but I also don’t want to take your choice from you,” Shadowheart says with conviction, “if you want to, I will go with you to Avernus and we will find a way to fix your heart. Then we can come back and be as old and senile as you want. Deal?”

It’s Karlach’s turn to surprise Shadowheart with a kiss. Her hands glide up the back of Shadowheart’s shirt and Karlach relishes in the way Shadowheart melts into her chest. Her hands glide up Karlach’s chest and over her shoulders- connecting loosely behind her neck. Shadowheart hums happily as Karlach kisses her jaw and the sensitive skin on her neck before kissing her lips again.

Karlach had sworn she would never go back to Avernus. She would never give Zariel the chance to hurt her again, but if being afraid and on the run is the price to pay for a working heart and a life with Shadowheart- well it might just be fucking worth it.

“Deal,” Karlach whispers.

#karlach x shadowheart #karheart #karlach baldurs gate 3 #shadowheart romance #karlach romance #shadowheart baldurs gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #wyll baldurs gate 3 #Astarion x Tav #astarion acunin #bg3 fanfic prompt #bg3 companions #bg3 hell #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #karlach cliffgate

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shxtodxroki · 1 year

Text

𝙵𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝙱𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛

Warning: Brief mention of blood, mentions of food

Send me the name of your favorite character and I’ll write a drabble for them! :)

Your head was positively pounding as your hand gently reached for the handle on your dorm room door, feeling like your brain was pulsating inside of your skull as you struggled to keep your eyes open with how exhausted you were. Today had been rough for you, to say the least, and the only thing on your mind in that moment was collapsing into bed and praying that you’d fall asleep easily and be able to ignore the pain that was far too noticeable in your head and ears.

You and Denki had been paired up in class that day in a match against Present Mic, and it was safe to say that you had come out of the battle much worse for wear than you had expected. Mic had a very nonthreatening, energetic presence, but facing him as a direct opponent had left both you and Denki in recovery girl’s office with bleeding ears, aching limbs and pounding headaches as she scolded your teacher and his colleagues for always being so rough on you kids and refusing to hold back whenever you were made to face them.

The darkness within your room was a sight you welcomed with open arms as you finally pushed the dorm’s door open, though the small lamp on your bedside table was oddly left on despite you remembering having turned it off before heading to class that morning, leaving more light in the room than you would have liked in that moment.

However, when you refocused your gaze on the rest of your dorm room and caught sight of your adorably precious boyfriend waiting patiently for you on your bed, a water bottle and your favorite snack in hands as his eyes lit up upon realizing you were finally home, all of the frustration you initially felt at the smidgen of light in your room immediately faded away and was replaced with pure relief.

Eijirou Kirishima didn’t need you to say anything to know what you needed in that moment, pushing himself up off of your bed and moving to wrap his arms around you and completely encompass you in his loving warmth where you remained in your dorm’s door frame.

“I know you had a long day babe, but you can relax now. I’m here to take care of you.” Eijirou spoke softly in your ear, allowing you to bury your face into his shoulder as you held back tears at his words. You felt ridiculous getting emotional over such a simple gesture, so you simply squeezed your boyfriend tighter in your arms in hopes of hiding the tears brewing in your eyes as he led you over to your bed and helped you sit down onto the plush, comfy surface.

“Take this and drink some water, babe, I know your head’s probably killing you right now.” Eijirou was incredibly mindful of his volume as he spoke to you, handing you some painkillers before setting down the snack he had brought for you and your TV remote beside you and moving to sit behind you. “Turn on your favorite show and eat up, let me give you a massage. You got slammed pretty hard into the ground earlier in your fight with Mic, I can’t imagine how sore you must be right now and I wanna make you feel better.”

You happily chugged the water he had so kindly brought for you upon hearing your boyfriend’s words, swallowing the headache relief medicine with ease and allowing yourself to melt into your boyfriend’s firm touch as he began massaging your shoulders, helping the tension and pain ease off of your body in waves as his fingers dug into your muscles. As you ripped open your snack bag and began scanning through the different streaming services you had availible to find a show to watch you wondered just how you had gotten so lucky, how you had gotten a boyfriend who was so caring and attentive and gentle with you when he knew you needed it most.

You may not know what you had done to deserve him, but you knew without a doubt that Eijirou deserved a thank you for all he had done for you that evening, turning around briefly and pressing a sweet, quick peck on his lips in a silent communication of your thanks before turning back around and allowing him to massage all the stress and pain out of your body with ease.

Request - @strawberrisnow said: Eijirou Kirishima for your ask game! Thank you so much, I hope you enjoy writing it! ☺️🍓

A/N: I definitely enjoyed writing this, anon, Kirishima’s just such a sweetheart that I knew I had to go with something super gentle and fluffy for him! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it, I definitely leaned a bit into the comfort aspect because it’s what I’ve personally been needing right now so I hope you guys found some comfort in this too :) My requests are open as of right now, so feel free to send in any requests you have and I’ll add them to my request list asap! :)

Taglist: @pasteldaze @yeagerfushiguro @papijean @deadmans-toe @trashy-bowtie @palenightmarepersona @thekaylahub @eunoiasa @applepie-macaroon @lady-juliette @ghostofscarley @lemonadae-chickie @swiftbyul @shinsosmatcha

If you’d like to be added to any of my taglists, you can fill out this form here! Thank you for your support <3

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sehtoast · 9 months

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Nyquil and Bribery (Depowered Homelander x OC Sickfic) All of You is Left to Love ch10

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: No plot, just sickfic fun. Nyquil is gross.

Warnings: None.

Fic Directory

Misery.

This was pure fucking misery.

"You're not dying, Johnny."

And that has to be a lie.

But surely it couldn't feel this bad, right? All of his life, seeing the roaches around him with their little ailments– their sniffles and sneezes, their disgusting coughs– convinced with every fiber of his being that they were being dramatic.

So he must be dying. That's the only thing that made sense with every violent cough that rattled him.

His one comfort: the cool hand pressed to his forehead, checking his fever before another round of medicine.

"I mean… it's your first time having the flu, so it's gonna feel bad, y'know?" Ben murmured as he poured a bitter, blue liquid into a small plastic cup.

Homelander cringed at the sight. He hated the taste so fucking much. Couldn't taste half of what he ate, but his tongue could register the vile medicine just fine– go figure.

Ben had told him it would be like black licorice if it were dipped in pure menthol. It was accurate, but somehow so much worse– enough to make him gag and beg for mouthwash of all things.

"You're not makin' me drink that again, are you?" His words slurred slightly, voice nasally and unbecoming of the man who once held more power than God himself could ever dream.

"Mm, no." Ben hummed, his smile sympathetic. "Just pouring it out so it's ready for bed. Lucky for you, just some Tylenol and Mucinex for now."

"Oh thank god," he whined, leaning back against the mountain of pillows damp from fever sweats. All of the air conditioning and fans blowing on him did nothing to help, and his body worked hard to sweat it out.

Absolutely miserable.

"Actually, I was thinking of swapping out the sheets so they'd be dry for you. Maybe toss you in the tub for a bit," Ben ran a hand through his damp locks, ruffling them slightly. "Up to you."

A dry bed sounded nice…

He nodded.

It was a chore to get out of bed. His body ached, especially his back. But, as sure as the sun would rise, his little spider was there to snatch him off his feet and carry him.

As humiliating as it had been, he'd needed help on the first day. He'd felt so horrible that he didn't eat or drink all day. That, combined with the fever, and… well.

He learned the hard way that walking while dizzy was dangerous.

Since then, Ben practically became his nurse. He took off work– shirked his heroic duties to stay home and take care of him to the point he outright ignored the occasional sirens.

He only left for cold medicine and takeout.

The bath water wasn’t quite hot, but not cold, either. Something about not agitating the fever– but it felt incredible nonetheless. Bubbles floated at the top, the scent pleasant even through his congestion.

"M'gonna leave the door open. Holler if you need me, okay?"

He nodded and sank down into the water, eyes fluttering shut.

In a perfect world, he'd be able to hear every breath, every movement Ben made while stripping the sheets and covers from the bed. He’d hear the way Benny bickered with the fitted sheet that he could never quite get right on the first try, or maybe he’d smell the little specks of lemongrass oil he liked to fling on the mattress.

The humming as he worked.

The sigh of sympathy as he removed damp pillowcases.

The intense deliberation between flannel or microfiber sheets.

Instead, he got to sit there and shiver– body frozen despite the heat both in and outside of him. Simply trying to submerge further, damning both his height and the cramped tub that he couldn’t sink fully into the warmth.

He got to dwell on all that he'd lost– and how he wouldn't be like this now if he'd never let his guard down.

Vulnerable.

Weak.

Human.

Homelander hadn’t heard the shuffling of sock covered feet enter the bathroom, nor did he notice the fingertips that dipped into the water.

“You ready?”

He’d have jumped if he didn’t know better. Instead, he just groaned.

Ben insisted he not lift a finger to help– that he only sit there and tolerate his coughs and sniffles while being towel dried.

“I’m not totally helpless, you know.” Homelander blurted out, a hint of irritation in his voice. He gazed down at Ben, who had knelt before him to dry his legs. He meant to say more, but was stopped by a cough rumbling deep in his chest.

“Since when don’t you like being doted on?” Ben asked, eyebrow arched. He meant nothing by it, of course, but the look on John’s face told him all he needed to know.

This was a matter of wounded pride.

Of course it was. Being sick reduced Homelander to a state far weaker than he already was. Reminded him that he could always be knocked down another peg, even when he was sure he’d already reached rock bottom.

Ben rose, standing on his toes to press a kiss to the tip of John’s nose.

A million words danced on the tip of his tongue, but none would remedy feelings like that. So he settled for just leading Homelander back to bed, where they stayed for the rest of the afternoon to relax.

Until, of course, it was time to go to sleep.

“No– Ben, no! I’m not doing it!”

“C’mon, you know it helps you sleep.” Ben had straddled him, holding that little cup of foul medicine as though it wasn’t pure evil. He giggled at John’s protests, wondering if this is perhaps how his parents felt trying to convince him to take his medicine as a child.

“I…” Homelander seemed to pause as if to weigh the options of sleeping or coughing all night. His expression fell, becoming even more serious. “Sweeten the pot, Benjamin. You gotta do better than that.”

The wall crawler feigned offense.

“Fine. How about a kiss?”

“Not good enough.” John groaned, leaning back into his throne of pillows. “Do better.”

“Johnathan!”

“It’s like drinking sewage!” He countered.

Ben sat back for a minute, deep in thought, eyes flicking to Homelander’s face every so often until the perfect idea hit him.

“What if I…” He leaned forward, coming in close to whisper promises of bedroom shenanigans so filthy he dare not speak them aloud. “...and I’ll even let you tie me up with my webs. Deal?”

Without a second of hesitation, Homelander snatched the cup and downed it with all the enthusiasm of a shot. He didn’t even cringe.

“Deal!”

#homelander #homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #depowered homelander #lowkey not my finest work bc the stress has been real lately but i was going for more fluff and fun vibes so hopefully i managed idk #i've been overdue to finally do a sick fic though #tbh it's (knock on wood) been so long since i've been sick i feel like i just cursed myself to catch something by writing this #the benlander agenda

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

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Nyctophobia (fear of the dark) // e.m x gn!reader

Summary: Eddie finds out that you're scared of the dark. You have a main nightlight, back-up fairylights, you need music too and you have a room circuit which must be completed or you cannot and will not sleep. Though you hide it well, all it takes is one careless moment to take you down. Lucky for you, Eddie is incredibly understanding, easily adaptable and immediately accepting.

Soft, fluff, self-indulgent (because yes, adults with nyctophobia exist and I refuse to be ashamed of it but sometimes a bit of validation is needed). Opens with discussions of nyctophobia - the hows, the whys, etc., and comes from my own personal experiences so what's relevant to me may not be to you, and that's okay! I hope you enjoy either way.🥰💖

Word count: 4, 106.

Warnings/content features: nyctophobia, crying (reader), swearing, anxiety so intense reader feels sick (but isn't physically ill), Fear of the Dark by Iron Maiden came out in 1992 but we're gonna pretend it came out in '86 because it's perfect for this scenario and it's the song which taught me to not be ashamed of my nyctophobia, so it gets a special mention! Established relationship, fluff, comfort, reader is early/mid 20s, reader initially keeps their nyctophobia a secret from Eddie (this fic is about him finding out about it), pet names (sweetheart, love, maybe some others), alcohol (they cracked some beers open then forgot about them, I guess? I just needed some connective exposition idk), mentions of being kissed so hard you can feel teeth through skin.

Fic specific tags: @the-slasher-madame @munsonsmel0dy @dumb-gemini @akwzilla @stephanie-lkj @thruheavenandhighwater @heavnswrld @devilcherryhot @alliecheer007-88 @dreaming-of-fictional-characters @seidenbros @livslifeonline @eddiemunsonshoney @aliceraered @moonlighting87 @wroteclassicaly

General e.m tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @alliecheer007-88

(SEND AN ASK TO BE ADDED TO MY TAGLIST - I ONLY WRITE FOR EDDIE)

You had always been afraid of the dark.

Always.

There had never been a day, as far back as you could remember, during which you hadn't dreaded with every fibre of your being the inevitable descent of the night. The sunlight hours made you itchy, the knowledge that it would be dark soon hanging over you and making you feel like you couldn't relax. Making you feel like you were in danger, because in just a few hours, all those familiar corners in all those familiar rooms would be filled with shadows, and the monsters inside your head would come out to play.

You never joined in with their games, because you had multiple ways to keep the darkness at bay.

Mainly, you made sure you were never exposed to darkness.

Before the sky had a chance to bleed into darker hues of purples and blues, you already had your curtains shut and the lights turned on. It was easier for you to acclimatise to the night time if you weren't able to see it get dark. Over the course of the evening, you would swap out the overhead light for slightly dimmer fairylights, and half an hour before bed, you exchanged those for your nightlight, which was dimmer still but the perfect level for you.

Light enough to see, dark enough to sleep.

Was how you explained it to yourself, and to anyone who asked - though there were few, for you protected this secret fiercely. You weren't ashamed of it any more - you had learned better than that years ago - but you also didn't see the need to advertise it. It was just something you dealt with alone every night. You knew what worked for you, what scared you, what soothed you, and you didn't stray from those intimate pieces of knowledge about yourself. You wouldn't - couldn't. You'd been too scared for too long now and you knew that this fear wasn't going anywhere; you had tried and failed many a time over the years to 'rid' yourself of it.

You had always been afraid of the dark and you would always be afraid of the dark.

So why not accommodate it every step of the way?

That had been your mentality since you were a teenager and you were sticking to it. Life was easier when you were on your own side. You had managed to avoid Eddie finding out so far; you always went home from his place before it got dark, you never stayed the night, you never went anywhere with him late in the evening. You spent hours with Eddie during the day but the moment the sky showed signs of getting dark, you were leaving. If he managed to convince you to stay just for a while longer, then you made sure to stay where there was light, and to stay as physically close to him as you could, your every nerve alight with tension. Eddie had picked up on certain things ever since you had gotten together but he didn't have enough information to really assemble the puzzle pieces, and that was just how you had wanted it to be. It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him, it's just that it had never come up in a natural conversation, and you didn't want to make a deal out of it by mentioning it yourself.

Unfortunately for you, that decision was taken out of your own hands due to a split second of carelessness. You had gotten 'too' relaxed around Eddie, because not only had you neglected to consider the time but you had also completely forgotten that Eddie didn't know. It wasn't until he began to turn on the small lights in his room and shut his curtains that you were forced to remember where you were, what the time was, and the situation you were now in. You didn't fully grasp the circumstances until half an hour later when you had almost forgotten yourself again - Eddie had a wonderful knack for being able to pull you out of your own head with such subtlety that you didn't even realise he was reaching inside until he already had you beside him on the outside.

"Hey, uh, wanna go grab us some beers to go with Ozzy? They're ~ , " Eddie trailed off, scratching the back of his head sheepishly, "I think second shelf?" The upward lilt of his voice turned it into a question and you smiled.

"Sure, I got it."

You swung the door open, took a step, and stopped dead halfway through the doorway, your body frozen in place, your mind racing. "Oh. Oh, fuck."

There was something in your voice which caught Eddie's attention - it was breathy, not at all how you normally sounded. He had never heard you like that. He almost dropped the Black Sabbath vinyl he was cradling reverently in his hands as he snapped his head around to look at you. "Y/N?"

"Mm-mm. Nope." You shook your head fiercely, already feeling the hot sting of tears. "No, no no - " You stepped back once, twice, three times, and shrieked when your back met a solid warm wall.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, hey," Eddie's words left him in one breath, "easy, Y/N," his hands gripped your upper arms as he pulled you to stand flush against his chest. His hands slid down your arms until they wound around your waist; Eddie hugging you to him. "Didn't mean to scare you. You okay?"

You tried to nod, to lie, you did, but you had already exposed this much of yourself. What was a little more? You shook your head and turned your face away from the scariest sight of that day: pitch blackness outside of Eddie's bedroom door.

"What's wrong?" Eddie turned you in his arms, his dark brows creased.

"It's - i-it's... Eddie, I can't go out there. Won't." You were shaking your head, crying harder now, and Eddie tilted his head at you. Dark curls lightly brushed across the strong slopes of his shoulders as he examined your body language, your extreme physical response to the open door, the late hour, your general avoidance of being anywhere other than in your own bedroom once it got dark...

Oh.

"Oh, sweetheart," Eddie almost cooed, "you nyctophobic or something like that?"

All you had left in you was a nod. You looked over your shoulder, your breath caught in your throat and you jammed your eyes shut. "Don't like it." Your voice was thick with tears and you whimpered, turned away from the open door. You couldn't even bring yourself to open your eyes, your forehead growing so hot from the inside that it felt like you were going to be sick.

"All right, easy," Eddie's hands cradled your face, "keep those eyes closed, yeah? If they're shut, you can't see it's dark so you won't get scared, right?"

There was, admittedly, some logic in that idea, and it made you smile.

"Trusting you, Eddie."

A kiss was pressed to your forehead. A solemn oath.

"You're safe here, I promise," Two hands moved down your neck, down your arms, down, down, until Eddie could take your hands with his. His fingers interlocked with yours, intent on walking with you to turn on the hallway light. You held your ground, your arm yanking in its socket as Eddie was already a few paces closer to the door. When he looked back at you, he didn't force you to move by tugging or by showing impatience. He came back to your side, his thumb stroking slowly across the back of your hand, and smiled gently, "Trusting me, right?" His dark eyes roamed over your body, reading you as best as he could.

You nodded. Your breath hitched in your throat and Eddie held your eyes with his as you breathed in, out, finding safety in Eddie. He always had a way of making you feel so alive, so comfortable within yourself as he guided you into your place in the world, his hands over yours as you held the knife with which you carved it out. Beside him was where you felt most at home. "Wh-where's the light switch?"

Eddie smiled softly. "Just down the hall, Y/N. Only a couple steps. Keep those eyes closed and your hand in mine, yeah? Don't wanna take you out there," his admission was sheepish, dark eyes fixed on you, "and m'sorry but I also don't wanna leave you all alone when you're so scared."

Your lips twitched into a fond smile as the way he enunciated but made it sound as he had that day in the cafeteria as you said, "I'm following you into Mordor, Eddie." Even with the imposing darkness looming right behind him, in your direct line of vision, Eddie seemed like an angel to you. You were scared, your body trembling, heart racing, palms a little sweaty, mind racing, nausea settling over you like a cloak, but you wanted to be brave. You wanted to step out there for Eddie, because of Eddie, even though every nerve in your body screamed to shut down, to curl up in a ball on the bed and not move until morning.

"Sweetheart, I'd follow you anywhere."

You realised distantly that Eddie was distracting you with light conversation (though his words were steeped in truth), but you let him. As you both crossed the threshold, a whimper escaped you, but Eddie didn't shush you. He let you express yourself, his hand tight in yours, fingers squeezing as his other hand trailed along the wall, searching for the light. It reminded him of the Iron Maiden song Fear of the Dark, which was ironically one of your favourites. You often sung along to it when it came on the radio, though it struck Eddie then that you never listened to it after the sun went down... You really had been telling on yourself this whole time, but no one had put the pieces together.

At the threshold of the living room, Eddie found the switch. "I got it, sweetheart. Got those eyes closed still?" His thumb rubbed over the back of your hand and you shuffled forward to press your forehead to the back of Eddie's Dio vest, needing him closer than close.

"Yep. Like I said, trusting you, Munson."

Your voice vibrated against his back and something in Eddie's chest ached at all the trust, all the vulnerability, you were displaying. He wondered if you realised how loudly your actions were showing your love for him. He hoped his own were saying the same. You were both screaming it at each other. "Good," he hummed, then more dramatically as he drew out the word, "Good."

His antics made you giggle; you could almost see the tilt of his head, the smirk playing at the corner of his plush lips, his intense stare. He flicked up the light, casting a warm glow across the hallway and chasing your fears away, though some anxiety still lingered. Sometimes it took you hours to calm down.

"Oh, would you look at that," Eddie chuckled, "you're lighting up my world."

You groaned, laughing. "That was so bad, Eddie, even for you."

"But it's true." Eddie used his hold on your hand to pull you into his body, wrapping his arms tight around you. "You can open your eyes now, Y/N. I got you." Gentle sways from side to side were accompanied with humming. He switched between songs so quickly that you couldn't pin one down before the tune changed, and you revelled in the chaos that was Eddie Munson, even when all the world was still and quiet. Oh, but he was so himself that it hurt.

Now that you were back in the light, you took a few steadying breaths, feeling your heart begin to slow down, and made your way to the fridge, grabbing the two cans which were, in fact, right where Eddie had said they would be. He had more beer than food in the fridge and you resolved to fix that issue. Tomorrow. When it was light again. When it was safe again.

But tonight... how were you going to get home? It would be dark, so dark, not just out on the streets but at home, and you didn't have a torch you could use to guide your way. Eddie could drive you but there was still the question of it being pitch black at home, and what about -

"Y/N?"

You blinked, snapped out of it.

"Hey, hi," Eddie's smile was tight around the edges, "where did you go, sweetheart?"

You shook your head, focusing on Eddie. He always chased it all away. "I just... I'm worried about getting home. It's dark, Eddie, and I - I don't have a torch or a ride, I don't know what - "

The look on Eddie's face shut you up. It wasn't a stare, but it wasn't just a look, either. It was... contemplative. Putting what he knew of you against the situation at hand, mind whirring to come up with a solution you would be comfortable with. "So stay here."

"I would, but I need - "

Eddie laughed, ecstatic to be uncovering one more section of the tapestry that was you, crossing his arms over his chest. "You got a whole routine, don't you, sweetheart?" He made his way over to the sofa and sat down, patting his lap. "C'mon then, lay it on me."

You hesitated but something in Eddie's eyes was reassuring and you went to him gladly, letting his arms wrap tightly around you. He rested his chin on your shoulder, hands locked around your waist, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

"What makes you feel the safest at night?" Kisses were pressed to the side of your face, the back of your head, your neck, fingers pulled at the collar of your shirt so Eddie's lips could find purchase there, too. You could hear how sincere he was; Eddie wanted to know. Straight away, he accepted your fears, he grounded you with touch and then started a conversation to get to understand you better... no one had ever done that for you before, and it made your heart ache with love for the man beneath you.

You told Eddie everything - about your nightlight, and the fairy lights you rarely used but they were your emergency light source for if the nightlight didn't work properly. You told him about the music you preferred to fall asleep to, and the albums from those bands which you cycled through depending on that night's mood. You told him about your comfort items, and you finished up with, "but, honestly, you make me feel safest. If you hadn't been here tonight, I would've just... curled up in bed and not moved until morning. But you made me want to be brave and I feel so safe here with you and you're..." Don't say it, Y/N, let it be.

You should have remembered that Eddie was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to say something. His arms squeezed around you in encouragement and he nosed at the hollow underneath your ear; he always knew when you needed a little extra something.

"You're..." You sighed, closed your eyes, leaned back into Eddie. You knew he'd stabilise you against him. "The amount of times I've had all my comforts, but something hasn't felt right because you're missing from my space. And even your room is one of my favourite places to be, but it's not... it's not right unless you're there too." You paused, considering, and took one more plunge. Why not? "I just..." You stood up from Eddie's lap and ignored his protests as you turned around and plopped yourself down so that you were facing him. You felt like he needed to see you as you said what was on your mind. His arms were back around you so fast it was like you had never left his embrace. "You're my ultimate comfort, Eddie."

I only feel safe when I'm with you was at the core of what you were saying but you knew, you knew that Eddie would hear what you said, listen to what you didn't, and it was those things he would respond to. If anyone else had said even half the things you had tonight, Eddie would have initially assumed that they were joking or embellishing the truth. He never meant that much to anyone... except you. He took your words at face value, found himself not questioning a single word. Eddie trusted you as much as you trusted him and he tried to meet you vulnerability for vulnerability as he pressed into you until you wrapped your arms around him and squeezed.

"You always find new ways to tell me you love me, Y/N." A hushed awe in Eddie's voice as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against yours. You pressed into the way you were sat on his lap, hugging him to you so tight that you could feel his heart pounding against your chest. "Do you want to stay the night? I don't want to make you uncomfortable but it is pretty late now and I have some small lights we can use, I've got pillows you can hug, I've got..." Eddie chuckled, "You've got me, so, uh - " he shrugged as he trailed off as if to say, 'it's not much' but he was wrong.

It - he - was everything.

"I..." Tell him about the room check. "Please, if it's no bot - "

"Don't even think about finishing that sentence, sweetheart." A dark look crossed over Eddie's eyes and you took the warning for what it was. He had done so much work with you to get you to stop apologising for every little thing - including apologising too much - and at this stage of your relationship, it should have been something you long stopped saying. It slipped through sometimes, but Eddie was always there to firmly remind you that you were wanted, loved, and certainly no bother. Not to him, not to Wayne, nor to anyone else who mattered.

"Then, yes please!"

As you and Eddie got ready for bed - with Eddie finding you a Hellfire Club shirt to sleep in (not his shirt, but a shirt which you were comfortable in) - you did your best to complete a room check without giving it away. You had omitted this part of your night time routine; you felt embarrassed doing it alone in your room every night, so with Eddie there too? No, you didn't want him to know. You kept glancing at his back as you ducked down to look under the desk, swept a hand under the bed to check for anything which shouldn't be there - demons, corporeal ghosts, your mind helpfully supplied itself. You bit down on the rising panic as you continued, checking ceiling corners for spiders or other insects, eyes examining the walls for anything which hadn't been there earlier on...

"Room safe enough, sweetheart?"

You jumped, spun around to see Eddie leaning against the closed doorway with his arms folded over his chest, dark eyes soft under the low lighting of his bedroom. You could tell by the look on his face that he knew what you were doing, and he had been stood waiting for you to finish to your satisfaction, even without having his thoughts officially confirmed. Fuck, he was so beautiful, inside and out, and for what? "I - yeah, it's - I didn't mean anything by it, Eddie, I swear, I was just - "

"Scoping it out." He nodded, smiling at you softly. "It's okay, Y/N. I want you to be comfortable and if that means doing a scare-sweep," his hands spoke for him as they usually did, "then by all means. Just know you're safe here. I promise."

You held your hand out. Eddie stepped forward to take it instantly, his fingers interlocking with yours, and the two of you got into his bed. "I know, Eddie, I know." And then, "You're safe with me, too. Wouldn't let anyone or anything hurt you."

"I know." Eddie hummed, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he pulled you into his arms. He didn't tell you that the lights outside the bedroom were switched off apart from one in the kitchen, which he happened to know was the brightest in the entire trailer. You had been more absorbed in your room circuit than Eddie knew you were aware of, and it had been quite endearing to watch you take all the steps you needed to feel safe in your environment. It meant that you felt comfortable enough to be scared, in a strange way, and to show and then soothe that fear at the same time. Eddie thought it brave of you. His brave Y/N.

Eddie the Banished and Y/N the Brave... it had a nice ring to it.

"So, uh," you and Eddie laid with your foreheads pressed together, legs tangled up under the sheets, wearing matching Hellfire Club shirts, and arms around each other, "can I ask what you're so afraid of? Like, was it a horror film which got you good, or...?" Eddie trailed off, looking at you with affection so blatant that you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"I've... never really figured out why. I just... don't like it." Eddie snorted at the understatement - it was the second time you'd said that about your phobia and Eddie wondered if he needed to speak with you about the way you always minimised your own emotions. Perhaps tomorrow. You smiled, "I never have. I used to force myself to sleep in total black, thinking I'd 'get over it'," you nodded in agreement at Eddie's frown, offended on your past self's behalf, "but it only got worse the older I got. So I figured, why not lean into it and give myself whatever comfort helps me sleep?"

"So that's why the... the lights, the music, the room sweep, the comfort pillow..." Eddie's hands announced each new item and you watched them, mesmerised.

"Exactly. I know there's no demons under the bed, but I still feel the need to check, you know?"

"There's knowing, right, and then there's knowing."

You groaned in appreciation. "Yes, Eddie. God, you get me so well."

"I should hope so." He laughed, booped your nose. "It's pretty fuckin' metal of you, to face your fears every night."

"Metal?"

"Yeah," Eddie's nod was fierce as he tried to push closer into you; close was never enough. "You know you're gonna be scared but you face it because there's no choice, right? That's so metal."

"Sounds like someone else I know... always doing things he doesn't want to, just because he knows he should... He's braver than he gives himself credit for."

Eddie had no real response to that. He only held you tighter, tipped his head back so his lips could find purchase on your forehead, feathering lightly and then so hard that you could feel the outline of his teeth through his skin. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Eddie." A pause, wondering how to say it. But then, all you had done tonight was expose yourself to Eddie, so it seemed pointless to rehearse now. "Thank you for protecting me. For letting me check out the room and for keeping on a light. For being here, for being you."

Eddie wondered what you had eaten that day to make you so talkative, so open, but he refused to question it. He longed to be close to you, in all things and in all ways, and tonight could not have gone better if he had planned it. You had opened up so beautifully and Eddie was desperate to find the opportunity to do the same with you, to show you pieces of him he had never shown to anyone. It would be a quiet thank you for tonight; you really were so brave.

Eddie kissed your forehead again, settling down to go to sleep. Your eyes drifted closed for the final time that night as Eddie said, "Anytime, sweetheart." It was another solemn oath, forged in the fires of a love that burned so hot all either of you could do was let yourselves experience it. After all, a flame shared is a flame doubled.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson comfort #nyctophobia comfort #stranger things 4 x reader #stranger things x reader

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