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sciencebecameouraddiction · 18 days

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if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold.

alastor, lucifer, rosie, husk

⌇alastor

you looked the radio demon up and down, thinking that doing so from the farthest corner of the bar would ensure he didn’t see you. it’s not like you could help it though. alastor had switched out his normal suit for a gorgeous red velvet, his hair pulled up with what looked like braids in it, no doubt nifty’s doing. you took a sip of your drink and looked down, seeing him look up at your area of the bar.

you had been doing this since you had sat down at the bar. watching him interact with patrons and royalty, who were there to have their pocket books pried open for some funding as well as support for the hotel. it wasn’t an easy task by any means even with lucifer in support of the idea and here tonight. you were supposed to be chatting people up as well, but after the first guy you spoke to kept his hand on your arm for a little too long, you decided you were too sober for all of this.

you saw alastor’s attention be pulled else where, giving you your cue to look back up. he was angled away from you and you gulped audibly. the way the jacket fit his frame, his hair style complimented his long neck, and how his waist looked so deliciously tiny made your stomach warm and your face heat. you had zoned out, your mind taking you to an alternate reality where you had a chance of slipping off that coat of his… you shook your head and your eyes locked with alastor’s. you’re not sure how it was possible but your face heated even more, almost burning with the blush you had at being caught. you couldn’t look away though, even as he smirked at you.

you swallowed heavily and shakily took a sip of your drink as you saw him depart from whoever he was talking to, walk up to the bar and stand close next you.

“just a few fingers of that old rye you have back there.” alastor requested, and husk nodded turning away. giving alastor a chance to look down at you. you felt yourself shrink under his gaze as he smiled again, almost like a smirk. he grabbed the glass husk handed to him and you watched intently as he brought the glass up to his lips and sipped his drink, glancing at his neck and the way it moved. flickering your eyes back up to his as his grin widened. he bent down at his waist, you both face to face now.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’ll catch a cold darling.” he murmured to you, as your eyes widened and you looked down ashamed. alastor chuckled and you felt his finger draw your face up to look at you again.

“cat got your tongue?” he asks, smirking. you try and speak but no words come out and you feel your face and now arms burning. you take your cool hands and place them on your cheeks. he draws them away, holding them.

“don’t do that. i like the red color. red as blood.” he says, kissing your right cheek, then straightening up and taking his drink and himself back into the middle of the party, shooting glances at you from time to time as you still just watched him charm the crowd.

⌇lucifer

there were many benefits to being with the king of hell. you practically never had to worry about anything, be that financial or even emotional or physical. you knew lucifer had you covered. he was in your corner. once word got around that you were dating the king of hell, the perks increased. you’d walk into a shop and the attendants wouldn’t let you buy anything. there was just a small ask to post it on sinstagram or voxtube and review it. which you never minded, but then that oddly started an influencing career in hell. that definitely was not something on your bingo card for when you died.

right now though, you were faced with the biggest detractor of dating the king of hell. he had to attend this gathering. very boring, and you felt your eyes glaze over as you sipped lucifer’s appletini he left. you watched him converse with this group of royalty and business people, you being the only one left at the table. not that you minded and no, you didn’t want to go make conversation over there. you sighed and decided to use this opportunity to really admire lucifer.

he was dressed in his suit but instead of the white base he wore around normally, the suit was gold with red accents. and it just brought out his eyes so well. he looked ethereal standing there, talking to those people. you gave him a once over and all you could think about was getting him out of that damn suit that fit him so well. just imagining him underneath you, panting and sobbing for-

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i might just catch a cold.” you hear lucifer’s voice in your ear. your gasp sounding more like a moan when he grabs the appletini in your hand and throws it back in one drink.

“undressing you? you were already undressed in my mind. already on the bed if i’m honest.” you murmur to him and watch the blush take his cheeks.

“this boring you?” he asks smiling.

“desperately.” you look at him. “we should go back home. we can pick up where i left off envisioning you on our bed underneath me… begging for more.” you grin wickedly as lucifer gulps. he quickly makes his way over to the group, explaining something and you see them all nod. he quickly makes his way back to you and takes your hand, waiting for you to get up. then he all but drags you out of the venue.

“let’s go home.”

⌇rosie

you had told rosie she should wear her new dress. and damn it she was so excited about it, that of course you said yes. now… a part of you regretted saying she should as one of the gentleman in cannibal town kept talking rosie up while she was checking out a long line of patrons. you tried to breathe as you just watched rosie. you knew she was capable of taking care of herself. you watched how she nimbly packed up different items, wrapping them all while charming all around her. her figure was so graceful and the dress hugged her just right, accentuating her waist. you bit your lip watching her. both of your eyes widening as you caught each others gaze.

you blushed deeply while she smirked at you and checked out the last guest in line. finally she took a second to come over to you.

“if you keep undressing me with your eyes, i’m going to catch a cold darling.” she purred as she strode up to you. you saw behind her the same gentleman watching the both of you, his gaze hungry. you glared at him as you grabbed a bit of rosie’s skirt possessively, but not wanting to make a show. she chuckled.

“he’s really got you worked up, don’t he?” she asked.

“he keeps flirting with you. it’s disgusting.” you comment, looking at rosie. she hums and pulls you up so you were standing. she still towered over you, as she gently maneuvered you face to look up at her. she smiled again, licking her lips and she bends down and kisses you. your eyes widen as you throw your arms around her neck, reaching up on your tip toes to get closer.

you hum into the kiss, gently weaving your fingers in rosie’s hair and pulling at her nape. you feel the growl that comes from her, slightly panting as she break.

“get a fuckin’ room! absolutely disgusting. there are children!” you hear susan yell and you sigh. you hands at rosie’s waist, absentmindedly rubbing over the boning in the dress.

“i think you need to get back to the shop.” you sigh and rosie nods. “anything i can help with?”

“sit there and look pretty for me?” she asks and you laugh, nodding. you turn to the check out area and smile even brighter.

“he’s gone!” you exclaim. happy the guy from before wasn’t in the store.

“oh, yeah. he left right when i kissed you.” she laughed, patting down some of the fizz in your hair. “needed to make sure that everyone else knew who i was with though.” she winks and walks back up to the front counter as you sit back down and sigh. you wondered how you got so lucky.

⌇husk

watching husk talk to other patrons and quickly whip up drinks was a past time of yours that you greatly favored. it was sort of relaxing seeing him in an element that he excelled in, but honestly, just watching him and how good he was with his hands made you blush.

you were currently off, deep in thought, but husk caught your glance. your eyes widen as you try and look away, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity you had by playing it cool. you knew husk wasn’t dumb though. he had seen you staring.

he went back to work quickly enough and you waiting for a few more moments before looking out of the corner of your eye at him, watching him rim a glass with salt. he poured two liquors in at the same time topping off with some red liquid and a lime wedge, pushing it towards a demon who giggled as their hands touched being passed the drink.

you rolled your eyes and as soon as husk’s back was turned you took your opportunity to really look at him. he wore his usual suspenders and pants, but he had slicked back his hair tonight and had on a white button down shirt with suit themed cufflinks. it was an incredibly dapper look and you couldn’t help imagine taking off the damn shirt he was wearing. loosing your grip on reality again, you didn’t notice a drink being slid to you. you hear the drink before seeing it in front of you, looking up, you meet husk’s eyes. a smirk almost tattooed on his face. you blink a few times, trying to understand, when he chuckles.

“if ya keep starin’ at me sweetheart, and undressin’ me with those eyes of yours, i’m gonna catch a cold.” he takes back your old glass and leaves you sitting there bewildered as he helps the next guest. you take a sip and see a slip of paper from under the glass. you squint to read the scrawled handwriting.

“meet me at 1. party should be wrapped up then. you can stare all ya want.”

you placed your hand over the paper and felt your cheeks grow warm. he was going to be the death of you.

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

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Try a Little Tenderness

Paring: Mob Boss! Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 3.7 K

Summary: Steve can’t win you with presents. He’s got to try a little tenderness.

Warnings: 18+ As always, MINORS DNI, SMUT, Lil bit of ANGST. Not Beta’d. All mistakes my own. Pining, flirting, organized crime, implied ice skating, teasing, former jerky boyfiend, inexperienced reader, nipple play, oral (both receiving) p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!) breeding kink, size kink, crying during sex, violence (due to mob world).

A/N: This is for #DJ’sAllIWant4KChristmas and based on this ask.

I no longer operate a taglist. Follow @rampitupandread to be notified when I post.

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“Good morning, Steve!”

You were stocking onions, but you looked up and smiled as the tall blond entered the store, setting off the bell. He was well built and handsome and wearing a fine wool coat with a red scarf. It was a cool December, but New York had not yet had its first big snowfall.

“Mornin’, Ambrosia,” came his gruff response.

You kind of liked his early morning voice. And the nickname. The first time he came in, he’d picked up an apple, already biting into it but also already paying. He handed you a twenty and said, “Mmmmm, Name?”, pointing to you with the apple. Flustered, you replied with the name of the apple instead of your name and the rest was history.

This morning, Steve smiled at you and his blue eyes were sparkling. They always sparkled when he looked at you. He seemed very sweet.

“The usual.”

You laughed and went behind the counter to wash your hands.

“Of course, already had the fixin’s set up for you.”

You started the water for the espresso and got out the fresh everything bagels you’d put aside for him. Steve was one of your best customers, coming in every morning, and several evenings. He’d been coming in for about four months now.

Steve settled at the counter and watched you prepare his food. He looked at his watch: 7:42 am. He knew you'd been at work almost two hours now and that you were working very hard. One of your braids had come undone from your bun, and he wanted to put it back, but he didn’t touch you. You wore no makeup, yet your skin always glowed, and when you looked up at him, his heart nearly stopped.

You were naturally beautiful. And your apron did not hide your curves. Or the fact that you were wearing the same pants that you’d worn three days ago. Steve figured that you didn’t have many clothes. He had the urge to take you shopping on Madison Avenue and let you go crazy. But somehow he knew you would never blow a load of cash on clothing. And that’s part of why he was so far gone on you.

He watched you battle your espresso machine with bemusement.

“Why haven’t you set up your new machine yet?”

You stopped and put your hands on your hips, looking so cute that Steve restrained himself from jumping over the counter.

“Is that from you?” You shook your head. “I suspected it.”

Steve had unexpectedly given you many gifts, the espresso machine, a cash register. He’d even tried to have a new walk in cooler installed. You refused and sent back everything he’d sent. It wasn’t right. He barely knew you.

You wondered what he did for a living, always dressed in the finest and able to afford multiple thousand dollar gifts. You figured that he was one of those Angel investors. Well, he wasn’t very good at being anonymous.

You watched as Steve gave you a lopsided grin, then leaned over the counter toward him.

“Listen. Steve. Mr. Rogers.”

You looked from his eyes, to his perfect lips, to his golden St. Christopher’s medal. He smelled so damn good. You bit your lip and Steve smiled, warmed by your proximity. This was his chance.

“Yeah, Ambrosia?”

“I’m not taking your gifts.”

You straightened up abruptly, handed him his drinks and finished his order. You gave him two folded newspapers.

“One Daily News for your friend and one News Day for you.”

“Have you thought about it yet?”

You raised your eyebrow at him.

“About what?”

You thought he was finally going to ask you on a date. You knew the main reason he came in was to check you out. But you weren’t about to be bought.

“About the possibility of getting The Times in here? Alright, the Sunday Times at least.”

“Sorry Steve, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, I don’t order. Can’t afford a non starter. But I do subscribe to the Sunday Times myself for the crossword. You can borrow mine any time.”

You winked at him. Something about Steve brought out your inner flirt.

Steve wanted to say something about sharing the Sunday Times in bed, but he thought better of it. Any other girl, and he would have been able to spit all kinds of game. But with you, he was tongue tied.

Steve sipped his coffee and shook his head as you gave him his bag.

“You are the most stubborn person I have ever met.”

You waved at him as he stood up.

“Have a great day!”

Steve chuckled at your dismissal as he walked out of the door. Bucky was waiting by the car. Steve handed him his cup and sandwich.

“Send Sam to pick up the espresso machine.”

“Still a tough nut, eh?”

“Yeah. She’s still refusing gifts…”

Steve got in the passenger seat while Bucky sat behind the wheel.

“Instead of giving her all of this expensive shit, why don’t you just be nice to her?Ask her out ice skating or something.”

Steve scoffed. He didn’t know how to ask a girl out anymore. He felt like that scrawny kid running around with Bucky back in the day. Now, women were always clawing at each other to get to him. And they always wanted something.

Steve didn’t respond to Bucky, just asked about his calendar.

“What’s on the agenda for today, Buck?”

“We gotta meet with the truckers today. They don’t want to bend to our terms.” Steve put on his sunglasses.

“We know what to do to make ‘em bend, don't we Buck?”

“Sure do, buddy.”

You were in your walk up apartment above the store halfway listening to the 10 o’clock news. They were doing a story about an explosion at the Eatern Tri-State Trucking hub in Bay Ridge as you put your body oil on after your shower. The reporter indicated that authorities thought that the Valkyrie crime organization was behind it. You were zoning out looking forward to the next day.

You were glad that Janie and Nate would be back at work tomorrow. Nate had just taken a week off, and Janie had recovered from the flu. You were going to take the next afternoon off. You could have taken the entire day, but you wanted to open up for some reason.

Running an organic bodega in Brooklyn was a tough job, but the business was growing, but it was even tougher when your help was not there. You deserved a bit of a break.

The next morning, you were humming an Otis Redding song when Steve came in. You looked over your shoulder and caught him looking at your ass.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

“Mornin’ Ambrosia.”

“The usual?”

Steve wanted to say no, I want to ask you to marry me, but that might be a little too forward.

“Yeah.”

He sat down at the counter and noticed that you had on something brand new. When you turned around, he gestured to your outfit.

“What’s the occasion?”

You looked down and then grinned.

“This outfit is my Christmas present to myself. I’m taking the afternoon off and I’m going into the city to go to the Central Public Library.”

Steve tried to respect your glee. But he had to do it.

“How thrilling.”

“You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch, “ you quipped.

Steve laughed at you. He thought about what Bucky said the day before.

“Grinch hunh. Well, would a Grinch offer to take you ice skating instead?”

You turned around and leaned on the counter. Steve leaned toward you.

“I don’t know. Are you offering, Mr. Grinch?”

You loved teasing him. Steve groaned.

“C’mon. I’m trying here. Ambrosia. Do you want to go ice skating with me in the city this afternoon? And to dinner afterward.”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

Steve was very close to you now, staring at your lips.

“Yes.”

You stood up and put your hands on your hips.

“It’s about time. Sure!”

Steve laughed at how easy it was. You shoved his order into his hands.

“Pick me up at 1.”

Steve was grinning like an idiot out at the car, and didn't know how he got there.

“So you finally asked her out, hunh?”

Steve snapped out of it as he got in the passenger seat.

“Move the talks up to 10. I’m taking the afternoon off.”

“Rumlow is stalling. I can handle it this evening.”

“You sure?”

Bucky looked at his best friend.

“Sure as shootin’.”

You and Steve had a great afternoon, and Steve thought that ice skating was genius. He had to thank Bucky. You had to hold hands to stay steady, and when he pulled you in close, you didn’t pull back so you could stay warm. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same things.

Steve got to treat you to Via Carota and you two walked right in. The food was great, the wine was amazing, and you even stole a kiss in your corner booth. The night was perfect.

He drove you back to your place and you sat in the car for a minute. He’d been a perfect gentleman, and you were the one to make the first move with the kiss. You looked at him quizzicaly.

“Can I ask you something, Steve?”

“Yes, Ambrosia, anything.”

“After today, this afternoon and tonight. Do you still like me?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course. Why do you ask?”

You looked down.

“Well, you’ve been such a gentleman. I see how you look at me, all hungry all the time. And the gifts. I don’t know. I just thought you’d be. You know. More…”

“Aggressive?” Steve responded.

“Well. yeah. I just thought.”

You looked back up and saw that Steve’s eyes had darkened.

“I am not a gentle man in my everyday life, Ambrosia. And I know that I can come on strong. But you make me want to be tender with you. I want to cherish you.”

“Oh.”

And Steve pulled you in for a sweet, but sexy kiss.

“So, yes, I still like you. And I have very aggressive thoughts about you. Want to ruin you in fact. But I want to do it carefully. Make you feel it. And make you glad you did.”

“Oh. No one has ever…damn, Steve.”

He recognized that you had been hurt.

“Here’s an aggressive question. What kind of an asshole would make you feel that way about yourself? His name is all I need.”

You laughed.

“Do you want to come up for the answer?” You cocked your head at him as he chuckled and nodded.

“Yes.”

When you got up to your place, you were settled with a glass of wine on your couch.

“I’m not going to give you his name, but I will tell you that we were together for a few months, and we only did it a few times. He’s the only one I’ve ever been with.”

The way you looked as him made Steve’s heart soft, but other things hard.

“It…It didn’t feel good. He said I was frigid and too small. I… I went to the doctor and everything. She said I was fine physically. So I figured it must have been in my mind and I haven’t been able to get out of my head after that. He broke it off and then I just decided to focus on work.”

You peered at Steve to see his reaction.

Steve’s eyes flashed with anger, then cooled.

“That joker is a fucking idiot.”

His eyes traced your body.

“He didn’t know what to do with all this?”

Steve reached for you and kissed you, this time with undeniable passion. You broke away and stood up, offering him your hand.

“Show me, Steve.”

He stood up and followed you to your bedroom.

You stood at the foot of the bed and reached up to kiss Steve, and he picked you up and sat down, sitting you down with both of your legs over his. You made out like this, Steve’s hands still in neutral places until you whined and scooted closer to him.

Then, he went under your sweater, finding your nipple in your bra and brushing it with his thumb. He was exhibiting intense will power, but he couldn’t hold it all back as you responded to his passionate kisses.

Steve lifted your sweater off and your tank top, which was underneath, with it. Your bra contained your breasts, but your nipples were erect and straining against the material. He brought your body towards his for a kiss, his thick fingers pressing and playing with your sensitive buttons. He had you squirming on his lap as he reached around and expertly unfastened your bra.

He looked down at you and then back up, eyes hungry. You’d been yearning for that look.

“I’m gonna cherish this moment, get you ready for me, Baby. You’re gonna feel so good.”

He was weighing and kneading your breast and tenderly flicking your nipple, then he leaned down and kissed you, moving down your neck and collarbone, descending your chest and kissing all around your areolas, teasing your stiff nipples.

He had you moaning and writhing, wanting some friction for your cunt.

“Patience, Baby. You’re gonna get everything you deserve. Including this.”

Steve moved your hand to the hard member in his pants, which you tried to grip in vain through his slacks. You whimpered in frustration.

“I know. I know. I want to do so many things with you.”

Steve’s fingers were in your leggings, through our panties and tracing your wet pussy lips gently as he finally started sucking your nipples. You pulled his hair wantonly as he teased you.

“Mmmmm. Who’s got you all wet, Ambrosia?” he asked, as he pulled his fingers out and put them in his mouth.

“Y-you, Steve… unhhhhh.”

The sight of him relishing your taste made you even wetter. And he found out, because his hand was right back down your pants.

His lips were at your ear and he was breathing hard.

“Can I…”

His thick finger parted your lips and the rough pads of two fingers slid over your clit into your wetness. You arched your back in anticipation.

“...Can I eat you out, my sweet Ambrosia?”

His voice and the request sent you on a tailspin. You nodded vigorously as Steve pulled his hand out to your whine of desperation at the loss of contact.

You quickly stood up as Steve captured your hips to stand still in front of him. His eyes raked up and down your form as he took hold of the waistband of your pants, and slowly pulled them and your panties down your legs. You stepped out of them and Steve’s hands ran back up your form as you looked down at him. He grabbed the backs of your thighs as he pulled you near him.

Steve put one knee over his shoulder and stared at your most intimate part.

“She’s a sweet little flower. So pretty and tight.”

His fingers were parting your folds so he could see even more.

“But she will be ready for my thick cock, I know she will, Ambrosia.”

He pulled you forward and held you up as he licked through you, almost causing a near stroke as far as you could tell.

“Mmmmmm,” Steve’s eyes rolled back into his head. “You are so sweet. I could eat you all night.”

You almost cried as he dove back in, grabbing his hair for purchase. He grabbed your bottom and stood to place you on the bed. He kneeled on the floor and held you down and open with his huge hands.

Steve started his feast, gently licking at first, then made you build to a crescendo as he started tongue fucking you. He made sure to stimulate your nipples, and when he felt your hard little nub vibrate, he sucked your clit hard as you came.

“Was that good?”

“Oh my stars, that was good.”

You both laughed.

“You’re so fucking cute, Ambrosia, but there’s levels to this.”

You sat up and watched as he took off his shirt. You were sure that your eyes were sparkling now.

“It’s just going to get better and better.”

He was just clad in his black boxer briefs, a huge bulge leading the charge. He reached in and you were certain that he was going to pull out an entire pack of socks, but instead, he showed you the largest, thickest dick you’d ever seen. Your eyes were like saucers. You were a little afraid, but your legs fell open out of reflex.

“See what you do to me?”

You bit your lip and nodded, reaching out and touching it tentatively.

“I’ve never seen one that big.”

You looked up at him and his heart melted simultaneously as his cock jumped. Your trembling fingers around him made him almost bathe your hand in his spend.

“Oh, Baby.. So sweet.”

“You are too, Steve. I want to taste you.”

You looked up at him through your lashes and Steve groaned, trembling with the effort to hold back.

“Christ… I’m…I…. Whatever you want, Baby.”

You stared at his cock for what seemed like forever. Then, you tentatively reached out and kitten licked his tip, causing him to groan as he palmed the back of your head.

“You’re killing me here, Ambrosia.”

“Hmmm.” You smiled. “Lay down for me, Steve.”

He did as he was told and put his arm behind his head to watch you. The way his muscles bulged inspired you anew. He reached down and roamed his fingers over your body as you hovered over him. You stroked him a couple of times and then played with his balls, Steve putty in your hands.

“B-babyyyy.”

You smiled in triumph that you had him whining as you spread your lips over the thick mushroom cap and sucked it into your mouth vigorously, causing him to moan and buck his hips up. You took the cue and drew him into your mouth, making him hit the back of your throat and gag.

“Holyyyyyy sssssshit. Stop. StopStopStopStop.”

Steve pulled you off his dick, which made you release him with a plop. He sat up and stared at you, disbelief in his eyes.

“Did I do it wrong?”

“Did you do it wrong. Fuck, you almost made me…. C’mere.”

You giggled as you ended up with your back on the bed again, Steve eating you out, this time one finger inside you as you came. You were in shambles as he looked up at you and inserted another finger inside as his opposite thumb stroked your still-quivering clit.

“Gotta get you up to three. Hold on.”

You did, and when he crooked his fingers this time, you let out a wail that caused dogs to bark down the street.

After your fourth orgasm, Steve looked up, smiling ear to ear.

“Still want this dick?”

You scowled at him.

“If you don’t…”

He laughed as he kneeled between your legs, stroking the magnificent beast. You opened your legs even wider and stared down at it.

“No. look at me, look at me. You’re ready. I got you Baby.”

Steve supported himself with one arm as he got nearer to you and started swiping his head between your folds. You keened as he entered you.

“Ow. Steveeeee.”

Your face looked so adorable as you struggled to take him.

“Holy shit, you’re, fuck you’re so….”

Steve kissed you through your moan of shock and pleasure as he slid all the way home. You gripped his bicep, your fingernails leaving marks. Steve pecked your lips as you pounded together, waiting for you to get used to him.

“You ok? You good?”

Steve checked to make sure you were okay. You nodded at him with tears in your eyes.

“I- I- think it feels good. You’re so big, Steveee. But.. but I like it….”

You started moving, a little at first, and then more wantonly. Steve looked down to where you were impaled upon his dick.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You are perfect. Just so.. Fucking… tiny…. But made for me…Shit.”

You felt Steve’s cock jumping inside you when he said those words, and you clasped your hands behind his back and uttered, “More!”

And that’s when you began to get fucked. Tenderly yet filthily. It was the best Steve had ever had, trying to be gentle and knowing that he wanted to put the bed under the ground. It was such a turn on. The ragged moans that you gave him with each stroke was a gift from god, and he started cumming before he could think.

“Shit! I didn’t use a condom…Fuck. But why does that just motivate me to keep going?”

Steve laughed into your ear as he kept stroking for dear life. He was usually so careful, knowing that most women wanted his kid. But with you he didn’t care. You wrapped your legs around him, taking the pounding he was giving you now.

“Hmmmmmm. You want me to put a baby inside you? Pump you so full of cum that you get all round and full with my seed?”

“Hnnnnghhh. Steve… I…”

“Tell me. Do you want it? You want me to get you pregnant?”

“Ohhhh shitttttttt! Steeeveeeeee!”

You detonated around him and Steve cursed, finally pulling out and jacking hard onto your stomach as three fingers on the other hand continued to fuck you through your orgasm. His pearly spend looked beautiful on your skin.

“So gorgeous. There’s time for that yet, but we gotta get you to a doctor, because I don’t want to do this too many more times. And fucking you with condoms is no longer an option.”

You were fucked out, absentmindedly playing in his cum, causing him to spurt one last rope onto your fingers. When you brought them to your mouth was when he shivered. He collapsed beside you.

“I can’t even explain how good that was.”

You just smiled at him, lips shiny with gloss that he made.

“You are an angel. A Christmas angel.”

Steve sighed as you smiled at him. He got up and went to your bathroom to clean up and get a warm towel.

“I’m hungry.”

“Anything you want, Babe. I’ll get it for you.”

You grabbed the remote and turned on the tv, catching the tail end of the news.

“Shootout in DUMBO tonight between the Rumlow and Valkyrie crime organizations. Several high-ranking officers dead or injured, including Brock Rumlow and James Bucky Barnes. More news when we have it.”

“Steve? Bucky? What’s going on? Valkyrie?”

Steve was up and grabbing for his clothes, an inscrutable look on his face.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I gotta go.”

He gave you a quick kiss.

“Don’t leave. Sam will come back with some food for you and he will stay with you. Don’t open the store tomorrow.”

“But Steve!”

“No buts! I will call.”

And then Steve disappeared into the night, leaving you with so many questions.

Knock that reblog button off the block fa me. 😉

Read part two, All I Want.

#dj’salliwant4kchristmas22 #Steve Rogers #mob boss steve rogers #mob boss!steve #chris evans #chris evans imagine #steve rogers smut #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x black reader #chris evans smut #bucky barnes

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neteyamsilly · 1 year

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i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 4

summary ;; A father protects, that's what gives him meaning. Jake Sully has failed. PART 3 | PART 5 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; PLEASE READ AUTHOR NOTES. I explicitly said in the previous chapter I would NO LONGER BE TAKING TAG REQUESTS. You're just going to have to check my profile every now and then. I also will not be re-tagging the peeps I did in the last chapter’s replies, it’s just a lot 😭 I'm sorry for the inconvenience and thank you for your understanding! Now I present you, the long awaited angst and groveling of Jake. Enjoy! Please excuse my mistakes if you see any. Thank you so much for the lovely comments and support, I hope the angst hits the way you wanted it / was expecting HHHHH

It’ll shine better, Jake mused to himself, rotating the lumpy amber around in his fingers to better reflect the sunlight streaming in thin rays from the hands of the dense flora above, once I dip this in that polish oil. It’s not entirely unsalvageable.

At least he hadn’t scraped too much in attempts to give it a rounder shape, the bug at its core you were gushing about to the point of waking him up at zero dark thirty was still intact. He had been summoned from his dreams to look at a cool rock.

Jake couldn’t not gift it to you as something to be permanently worn after that.

The problem? He was ass at this. Always had been. No drop of craftsmanship in his bloodstream at all when the Na’vi were particularly fond of their ornaments and accessories, making it themselves, in fact.

Songcords were put together from beads, bones and stones, virtuosity was a must intrinsically woven into everyday life, methodized and irreplaceable since it wasn’t as if mass production could ever be a thing in Pandora. Everything was handmade.

Jake’s worst enemy beadwork was in their clothing, for example, even in braids — his maladroit at it may or may not be why he wore his hair in plain dreads now.

He wasn’t an artist or a creator, his hands were more comfortable being fit around a gun or a knife than slipping effortlessly in the rhythm of weaving or the act of making. All his end results were dreadful enough to be bullied relentlessly by his kids — except for you, that is. You absolutely loved them for reasons your mother or none of your siblings could understand.

Jake’s blundering conscience would melt at the sight of your eyes shining and the biggest smile almost splitting your head in half as if he had just handed you the world every single time he gifted you the newest of his clunky handiwork. He didn’t know why that made you the happiest. You’d been that way ever since you saw him carving and personally adding a bead to his songcord about how he got his firstborn daughter to utter her first word: dada.

It was important to him, so, down it had gone into Jake’s life story; putting official significance to the moment he never wanted to forget in the same thread that carried the story of him becoming Toruk Makto, just beside Neteyam’s first word, which was also dadada. (Neytiri had Lo’ak’s mam, and Kiri’s perfectly articulated mommy.)

Ever since that day, you had made grabby hands at the bead all the time when he picked you up, teethed at it like a puppy trying to grab a toy, tried to rip it off to make it yours — anything, until Neytiri made you one, but no, you wanted it from dada.

So dada started making you little trinkets.

He didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing you never grew out of receiving gifts from your dad he himself cringed at. Jake wasn’t one to complain, not when someone in this life would feel such enough joy to purify thousands of blighted souls upon receiving his ugly personal work. It made him happy, stroked his ego to high heavens that his sweetheart was doting on dada to see the imperfect as the most fascinating.

That’s why he had taken on the daunting task of making a bead for you out of the amber you’d fixated on, rasp in one hand, sitting on a thick log that cut into the little stream he and his family were spending leisurely time that day, one leg pulled to himself and one feet in the water up to his ankle. Even though he had half an ear on his four children playing around in the shallow water of the creek, all the screams and squeals of joy felt weak compared to the contained huff of amusement that escaped from his mate who had come up to Jake while he was way too engrossed in his task.

His eyes shifted to Neytiri, watching her hop on to the log in one agile move. “Don’t laugh.”

“I am not laughing,” Neytiri said, crouching to sit, her mouth twitched upwards as she looked at the amber in his hand.

“I have eyes, Neytiri, I literally see you laughing.” His face used to burn at her openly teasing about beadmaking, but his oldest daughter’s attentions had restored his bruised confidence over the years. The slander wasn’t taken lightly these days as Jake had proudly relabeled the odd shapes of his work as a creative choice. “Right to my face.”

“You’re mistaken.”

Jake made his jaw drop, overacting his bafflement. “Wow, gaslighting? Really?”

Neytiri hit his arm lightly. In her terms, it was light, at least. “I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s something you shouldn’t do to your mate.” He turned his back to her, giving a look over his shoulder. “You’re abusing me. I’m being abused.”

“Baby.”

“No amount of pet names are gonna fix my broken heart.”

“No. You are a baby. I’m insulting you.” Neytiri hadn’t even laughed, but the uplifted timbre of that sentence sure did make Jake snicker in disbelief. “If you can’t take it, maybe you should leave beading to me.”

“I would say they are fashionably off,” he defended. You carried them with delight, so why shouldn’t Jake take more pride in his work? “And you said practice makes perfect years ago, I remember the exact words—”

“Years ago. You still haven’t gotten any better at it.” Neytiri was his biggest supporter and criticizer at the same time. “And you became a part of the clan back in the day in three months Jake. Never a more unbelievable thing to me than this.”

“I’m trying alright?” He turned back to the bead, or, vaguely bead-shaped amber, if technical terms were involved. It still had a whole adventure to embark on until it could receive the noble title of a bead. “She likes what I make, at least.”

“It’s because she’s your daughter and anything you do is out of this world. Beauty in the most unlikely places. A child’s love is pure that way.” The unexpected hypnotism of poetry in that sentence alone pulled Jake’s gaze to Neytiri’s, and for a moment, he could physically feel his heart within his ribcage being squeezed, tethering on painful, but with a joyful tinge. “She doesn’t have standards yet.”

Well, that hurt. “Damn.”

“Damm!” A pair of small and branch-thin arms wrapped around his neck from behind, and something, or rather, someone, latched onto his back. “Rahh!”

Jake should have been suspicious of how silent it had gotten halfway into his talk with Neytiri. Turns out, you had swam underneath the log to get out of his line of sight, climbing with the stealth of a bug to come up undetected.

Well, mark Jake down as impressed, you weren’t able to do that without being spotted until today, this was another wonderful milestone for you — you had learned impressively, taking advantage of his distraction, avoiding making noise and using water to your advantage. Neytiri must have given you some pointers.

And now he was wondering if his mate was in on this all along, purposefully disturbing his peace so their kids could see an opening to pounce on him.

“Oof!” Your hold on him was something he could break out of any minute with how adorably strong you were exerting yourself to make it, but he wanted to play along more than anything. Jake was acting panicked, swinging his body left and right from the waist, but really, it was just a light warm-up exercise with the easiest deadlift possible. “I’m being ambushed!”

“I got you now, Toruk Makto!” You wrapped your legs around his torso, and he felt like this was just a piggyback ride with extra steps. “Watch this, mom!”

Oh, it’s on.

Discreetly handing Neytiri the amber, Jake stood up, bringing you up with him and fighting a smile at your clipped squeak as the height became too much too quick, causing you to cling onto him stronger. He reached behind, and within seconds, he had you in his hands, holding you from the armpits and dangling you above the stream, your kicking legs beating the air, and he cackled like a villain threatening to fling the hero from atop of a skyscraper.

“You got me? Please.” He loosened his grip the slightest amount to give you the illusion he would let go, and you stopped struggling to scream, catching his forearms. “A measly thing like you? Conquering me? I’ll show you why I’m the king of the skies! Here I come!”

Making sure you wouldn’t get hurt, Jake threw you into the water as gently as possible, but made the angle entertaining enough so you would go flying. He wasn’t sure who’d screeched the highest, your three siblings who had you spearheading this little operation with full trust in your capabilities, or you reacting like you were falling down from an ikran midair. Either way, he was enjoying bullying his kid a bit too much.

Emerging from the stream and shaking the water off too akin to a wet dog, your first action was to shield your siblings, open arms and whole body and all. “Nete, run! Protect Lovak and Kiri, I’ll save you!”

Jake’s evil smile looming on his kids wavered at that.

You had problems with some letters even at the big age of eight, two vowels next to each other in one word was one of them, along with the confusion of “f” and “b”, and sometimes “p” — it made for hilarious misunderstandings Jake had to fight to be a parent about instead of busting a lung from laughing.

One of the many unforgettable events was deemed “The Fish Incident” between Jake, Max and Norm. He had been recording Neteyam’s first catch on his own to add it to the cute memory pile he and his mate would watch in the future after all their children eventually moved out to pursue their paths. You happened to be present that time, watching intently as your big brother shot a particularly giant yellow fish, eagerly jumping down to the pond to get it and showing it to the camera with a shy, yet proud grin on his face.

“Good job, boy!” Jake had cheered. “Say I got that fish!”

Out of the camera’s frame and making little jumps on your toes, you’d blithely yelled. “Yeah, you got that bish!”

The rest of the footage was shaky and out of focus, the microphone hadn’t picked up any sound but Jake’s uncontrollable laughter, kicked off by an exploding snort of shock.

You and Neteyam had no idea why, but after he’d stopped recording with tears streaming down his face, wheezing because he couldn’t stop laughing, you’d joined to laugh and play with him regardless, mirroring his excitement.

Later though, Jake had to actively make it so you wouldn’t have to say the words kitchen and pitch (and obviously, fish) out loud, at least, in front of Neytiri. He didn’t want to abstain from having a little fun himself, so under no circumstance was she allowed to find out and correct you. And he had it going strong for a while until it slipped when he was talking about a scientist friend over at Hell’s Gate called Richard and you repeated it as “Bitchard”. The word had somehow weaseled into your English lexicon as well, and Neytiri wasn’t illiterate enough to be oblivious to what you’d merrily blurted.

Good old days. Jake sometimes missed hearing you curse innocently. Neytiri had to take that source of joy away from him. Discouragement and warnings would be given to his kids if they knowingly cussed, of course, Kiri calling Lo’ak penis face was something he’d immediately shot down, but this was harmless, he thought. He could have let you be blissfully unaware until the day you learned the meaning of the words, or gain consciousness of the articulation errors as you grew up and naturally fix it yourself. It was only a natural part of a child’s growth.

But he had other entertainment. The obligatory consonant you had to sometimes add to two different neighboring vowels if it was too difficult for you to pronounce, for example. Your little brother was a victim to this. Thankfully, Lo’ak wasn’t bothered to be called Lovak by his older sister, somehow thinking of it as a nickname, but Jake could bet his ass the boy would use this as infinite ammo against you once both of you were older. He would of course forget how you always protected him in play fighting like right now, of course, maybe you would remember enough to accuse him of ungratefulness, and perhaps Lo’ak would declare he didn’t recall anything such as that.

How bittersweet of a thing it was to drift into imaginations of how his kids would be like when they grew up. Like the stinging ache Jake always got when he was confronted with the sadness of losing his children forever one day — the need to put every minute with them in a bottle, and the feeling of time slipping through his fingers, the same old melancholy each time: when it first dawned on Jake that you’d successfully sneaked up on him just now, when Neteyam had captured his first fish all on his own without assistance, when Lo’ak showed him the knife he had successfully carved by himself to get his approval, and when Kiri had tended to a scratch wound of his better than her grandmother did with precocious wisdom on her face.

Jake was making every moment count. Just like this one.

“Nobody is safe from me, I’ll huff and I’ll puff and blow your house in!” He jumped down from the log with the grace and intimidation of a leopard who had been disturbed while eating up the tree he’d dragged his meal on, splashing water everywhere. “What will you do, o’ mighty hunter?”

You loved being called mighty hunter by him, he saw the sparkle in your eyes.

“Noooo!” Kiri cried, pulling on both Lo’ak and Neteyam’s arms huddled behind you. “He’ll get us!”

Your thought process, completely spooked by Jake, was painfully visible. But surprisingly, you yelled, “Scatter!” with the experience of a rave addict who would take a forty and smash it on the ground as the police closed in on the party grounds. And his kids ran in different directions, like a group of cockroaches when someone approached them, they all ran in different directions.

Sloshing water all around to make it more terrifying, he got Kiri first, hauled her right over his shoulder when she made for Neytiri, thinking her mother could protect her, but no. Jake was inevitable. Lo’ak gave him a weak challenge trying to step around him, getting Jake to confuse his steps as if they were playing basketball, but this was his dad he was facing and not Spider, these tricks didn’t work on veterans, so now he was flush to Jake’s side, tail facing forward, carried like some strapless bag, it didn’t even put any strain on the man’s bicep. Neteyam was the last, hiding beneath the water level and holding his breath, but the little nose peeking out for air gave him away, and Jake had him up the other shoulder in seconds, the boy didn’t have enough time to run away even though he’d spied from underwater that Jake was coming for him.

Three out of four. That left only his eldest daughter.

You were nowhere to be seen. The delighted and struggling giggle-cries of the three kids in his arms and shoulders didn’t help at all to Jake taking his surroundings in with a keen ear, all senses attuned to spotting the stray.

A rustle from above.

“Attack him!”

He didn’t have enough time to see just which branch of the trees cocooning the creek you had climbed on before all three in his arms turned on him, flailing around together in unison to get Jake to fall down and kneel, and it surprisingly worked, he couldn’t even recover between the blink of a time between them getting off the way and you jumping down on him. The height at which you did that knocked all air off his ribcage for a second as he tried to retain balance, and you took that chance to sit on his shoulders, your legs dangling from each one, grabbing onto two dreads on his head as if they were the tails of Toruk he once had held onto like leashes.

Jake had to give this one to you, damn. When had you become a student of the art of strategizing?

But, defeat was defeat. He had to play his part. “This can’t be!” He opened his arms, making it seem cartoonishly like he had been incapacitated. “I’ve been… bested?”

“That’s right!” The cockiness was dripping from you as you pulled on his dreads. “I’m Toruk Makto Makto now. The first of my name!”

Your siblings started cheering battle cries, repeating the word.

Don’t laugh, he ordered himself. Toruk Makto Makto, what a title, oh Jesus Christ.

“Alright, alright, you got me, mighty hunter.”

“So I win?”

“Yes, you win.”

He was going to have two less dreads on his head if you kept pulling on them like this. “Hell yeah!”

After hearing the declaration, his other children also joined in on the ‘Hell yeah!’ train. Jake supposed he could let this slide for now, you guys were too happy, he wouldn’t sully it.

“You’re gonna rip my hair off, get down now.” You understood play time was over from his tone, and obeyed, hopping down his shoulders when he lowered you into the water, immediately attempting to rush to your siblings’ side to be celebrated, but Jake had something else in mind. “C’mere for a sec.”

He pulled you to the edge of the stream where water met grassy land, dipping his hand into the wet soil under your confused gaze and bringing his fingers up to trace a pattern on your face.

The reaction was instantaneous. You pulled back. “Ew, mud!”

“Hold on,” he gently warned, or rather, encouraged.

You let him continue whatever he was doing then, albeit not losing the laughable concern along the way. “What’s this?”

“Well, you’ve tamed Toruk Makto before an ikran. My mighty hunter should be painted accordingly, no?”

He pointed down and you followed it with your eyes. Seeing your reflection and the ‘V’ shape with a dot on your face in the water, you stopped yourself from touching it with the impulse control that kicked in at the last second, looking up at Jake, jumping up and down, unable to contain the energy, knowing exactly what he did just now. He’d recognized you as a prospective hunter candidate. “Thank you, dad!”

Jake could swear his insides liquidized at that. “Always, sweetheart.”

“Will you paint me like this when I finally get an ikran, too?”

“Of course I will.” He actually wanted to cup your cheeks and plant a little kiss at the adorable flat of your nose but the mud would be ruined, so he pet your braids instead. “As will your mother. It’s what family does.”

At the time, Jake didn’t have the slightest inkling that the paint would end up being your own blood.

Neytiri’s bloody hands — your blood, his child, his child, his baby Jake’s entire day would stop at seeing one tear on her face — had been stroking your face, trying to hold on to you anywhere she could to soothe your flaming pain as you were squirming like a dying animal fighting for the next breath. His heart beating right behind his eyes in a massive pulsating headache, Jake was too desperate fighting his swelling panic with each noise that ripped from you to notice they had left the vague pattern of Iknimaya paint pattern in their wake.

She did.

And her following anguished, gasping shudder as her shaking hands hovered above your contorted face, tracing the air along the lines the blood had left on your face ended up hitting him right in the gut. He couldn’t dwell on it. He couldn’t let this random twisted sign sweep him into the roaring waterfall of torment, your life was on the line.

Jake didn’t have any coherent memory of running back to the mouth of the cave from the family tent. One moment, he was back with his brain fried from thinking about Quaritch in the aftermath of an hour that had just taken twenty years from his lifespan, avoiding the inquisitive silence of his kids who hadn’t gone back to bed yet; and the other, Neytiri was screaming in the distance with terror worse than the anguish he’d heard her go through upon losing her father and her home. Jake had all but flown there, mind blank in swirling, spasming panic.

Neytiri had told him he had a strong heart the first time they’d met. No fear. Even though Jake was aware he was being disliked strongly, this quality of his she had remarked on, honest to her soul.

But she was wrong.

That fearless fortress heart of his had begun to crumble the moment he learned of Neteyam’s existence. And with each and every new addition to their family, Jake had been rehabilitated on what fear truly was, like a baby learning a language.

Losing. It was all about losing.

He would wake up from terrorizing, choking nightmares with the sensation of his family being violently taken away from him when his children were in his arms, sleeping peacefully all along. He couldn’t stop it. It had spiraled out of control after the sky people came back, turning him into a paranoid, angry man who was ruled by fear. He worried for the safety of his family every day, obsessed over it — beneath the impenetrable iron mask of a leader his whole clan was leaning on, Jake was nothing more than a weak, emotionally crippled father who would lose it the more his children grew up to take reckless actions he made worse by the inability to govern his fear-curbed anger. He called it tough love.

That tough love had resulted in this. Loss. Loss. Loss he had tried his damnedest to prevent. It was blood slipping through his fingers from a wound he had no way of stitching back together.

The more he pushed to block the bullet entrance point, the more you fought Jake, making feral yowls that weakened into animalistic whimpers and throaty whines that all but ripped his heart off muscle by muscle, your hits and scratches didn’t faze him, but the noises. Eywa, the noises. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know you’re in pain, I know, I know, I’ll make it go away, please hold on, c’mon.” The droplets of sweat that had formed in the matter of seconds rolled down his face. You had begun to hyperventilate from the accelerating pain because of his efforts. “C’mon sweetheart. Breathe for me, breathe for dad, okay? You gotta breathe. Breathe!”

You were unhearing, lost in the overwhelming, blinding, deafening agony he couldn’t anchor or shield you from. The grunt of desperation that escaped his sore throat rattled his carbon fiber infused bones.

Jake didn’t have time to think. His reason had flown out the mountains to be able to force one single word to form in his mindscape. He just knew he had to stop the bleeding, propelled by concentrated instinct. You were struggling too much for him to have a solid hold on you. Everything, too slippery. Too much blood. Too fucking much. The sickening smell of iron bit at his senses.

(Was it the liver? The spleen? Pancreas? One of the major arteries? But Na’vi biology wasn’t the same as humans. Fuck.)

Then, you were being restrained by a third party, Neytiri was too devastated to make that reasonable decision, and in his peripheral vision, he saw it was Neteyam who had sat down on your legs, restricting your movements with incredible strength. Jake couldn’t even bark at him to go away with how much Neteyam looked in control, a rock he and Neytiri both could draw strength from. Behind him, Lo’ak was a stone statue just standing there, frozen, his eyes not leaving your bloody abdomen.

When you let out a yelp his heart could no longer stand, he yelled, “Bring a stretcher!” to nobody in particular, out of his goddamn mind. Lo’ak jumped at it, coming back to his senses, hesitating what to do for a second before he was off to god knows where. He had to take you to Norm’s, and then a doctor—

A tiny, trembling voice he couldn’t recognize as Neteyam’s reached his ears. “Dad…”

The boy was looking at you, blown eyes shining with unshed tears, upper set of teeth sinking in his shaky bottom lip.

You had gone slack in his arms.

He hadn’t even seen the moment, didn’t stop putting pressure on the wound as the dread assaulted his body. And a biting shiver went down his spine before Jake also looked down on his eldest daughter. Your eyes weren’t closed all the way, halted gaze focused on something to the side, one tear rolling down your temple.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jake couldn’t breathe as he shook his head, he was about to lose it, about to tumble down the edge he could never climb his way up from. In denial, he didn’t lift his hands, losing all strength in his upper body and gradually collapsing forward as his forehead found yours. “Don’t do this to me, sweetheart, not like this. Please, not like this.”

The last thing you were looking at was the ikran you’d gotten.

Jake didn’t feel that very ikran making its way to their side, flapping its wings, didn’t feel anything to react when a snoot reached down and ever-so-gently nudged you, like you were asleep and it was given the duty to wake you up in the morning that day.

Your ikran nudged you once. Twice. Thrice. Each push was harsher than the other.

You didn’t wake up. Your eyes didn’t get their light back.

A paralyzing numbness took over Jake’s body, all his neuron ends stunted. The moon stopped spinning, time stopped moving, he ceased existing, all at the same time.

A piercing ringing stabbed his ears, took away his hearing. He didn’t hear Neytiri scream louder than the ikran, you were ripped from his arms, and he couldn’t move to do anything about it, just staring into the distance, at nothing, bloodied palms facing upwards in his lap.

It was Neteyam who tried to stop his wailing mother from going mad with grief, trying to get her to set down your body from her crushing embrace even though he couldn’t take his misty eyes off your body. It was Lo’ak, frantic in his run even though his panic-frozen face gave away nothing, who had rushed back with Mo’at and Kiri. It was Tuk who had thrown herself into his arms for a hug Jake wasn’t in his body to reciprocate, his seven year old child, in tears, comforting him when Jake, as the adult and the father, should have had his shit together and be the provider of comfort.

Instead, all he could feel was the blood on his hands, one small part in his mind making him focus on that one amber with a bug inside he’d carved for you, years ago, now in your hair.

The tears didn’t come. His world was shattering all around him, but not one tear made it to the surface.

Someone was talking to him, but Jake wasn’t there, experiencing the moment behind a thick veil of silencing glass.

“Open her mouth, Jakesuli.”

He looked at the source of the muffled sound breaching the ringing in his ears, painfully empty and unfeeling. It was Mo’at. In her hand, a woodsprite gently floated in the air and landed before it repeated the motion again. It was as if his brains had been emptied from his skull. He didn’t understand. He didn’t see. Tuk was clinging to him, Neytiri doubled down in waves of cries in Neteyam’s arms. Jake wasn’t there.

“Open her mouth so I can keep her spirit here longer,” Mo’at said. “Do it now. We do not have much time.”

And Jake could breathe again, his soul slinged back into his body, feeling returning to the tips of his fingers, kicking into action.

He cradled your body from the cold ground you were lying on, bringing his shaky hand to your tightly shut jaw. Your body couldn’t have been experiencing rigor mortis, so you must have been clenching your teeth to the point of your jaw locking to fight the pain, and he was nearly blinded from the sheer strength with which he had to hold back from hugging you. But he eventually opened your jaw with a sickening pop that made him visibly grimace, and Mo’at guided the woodsprite to slip inside the cavity of your mouth.

The bioluminescent dots on your body began to flicker the moment your mouth was closed again. Jake gave a shuddering breath at the sign of life, hands unsure if he should continue to cover the wound again.

“Eywa has allowed her to remain. For a while.”

“Oh Great Mother, thank you!” Neytiri took one of your hands, pressing it against her cheek and kissing it over and over again. “Thank you, thank you.”

“Bring her to my tent,” the Tsahik simply stated, and Jake didn’t even stop to consider how he should be taking you to the science guys, how they were probably going to say you needed a blood transfusion and surgery right after they got the necessary tests such as MRI and blood analysis out of the way. Kiri, sniffling weakly, took the crying Tuk away so Jake could carry you. He couldn’t comfort his girls the way he wanted to, couldn’t attend to Neytiri as their sons consoled her and got consoled in return in a tight hug together; he was on the move, heart about to beat out of his chest.

He took you in his arms and clutched your unconscious and ashen blue body tightly to his chest, your head lolling in the crook of his arm, arriving to Mo’at’s tent faster than she did — and oh, how small you were compared to him, how fragile and vulnerable. The attitude made you appear bigger than you actually were, and Jake was reminded how you were still a child from how light his daughter was, like a fleeting bird. He’d forgotten. It had been forever since he last held you like this that he couldn’t bear to lay you down on the mat. If only he could hide you away within his ribcage, away from the pain and the suffering, forever.

“Everything in this world is borrowed,” she told him, an incense was burned, salves were prepared, tools he had no idea on what they were used were brought out. Plants, herbs. Jake stood there, helpless. “Even this child, Eywa has lent to you. She is borrowed from the bosom of our Great Mother, entrusted to you. Entrusted.” Your freckles were still flickering, and Tsahik’s tone, clipped. “I will converse with her. Ask if she plans to call her daughter back home today.”

Ice washed over Jake. “No, you gotta heal her, Mo’at, I can't lose m—”

“Everything in this world is borrowed. Each breath. Each heartbeat. All children. All gifts from Eywa.” Her eyes bore into him. “I can only ask.”

Neytiri pounced on him as soon as he stumbled out of the tent, beaten and spent despite not having one scratch on his body, upon Kiri’s entrance to assist her grandmother in tending to you.

“Your fault!” He was violently pushed back, only able to take in the woman’s bloodied, wrathful face, tear tracks freshened with saltwater she couldn’t stop shedding. “This is your fault! I told you! I told you to fix this!”

Jake was aware other clan members were watching even if they weren’t out of their homes, he was Olo’eyktan, their leader, his pride would have taken this to their own tent had this been any other debate, but now, he couldn’t give a flying fuck. Bruising his back was the weight of a failed father instead of the ornamental piece of the clan leader, it was unbearable enough. She was right. There was nothing else to be said. His mate was right.

“Mother, please,” Neteyam was right beside them in a flash, holding Neytiri back and shielding his father from her. His sunken eyes found Lo’ak and Tuk crouching at the edge of the tent, huddled together, the youngest having the crying hiccups as her older brother had an arm around her, himself looking traumatized enough.

“Don’t, boy.” Jake put a hand on his stone-hard shoulder, moving him aside. Neteyam took one hard look at Neytiri half-circling his father in long strides, and decided it was best if he took care of his siblings instead even if he wasn’t told outright. He ushered Tuk and Lo’ak up and away, to the other side of the tent where they wouldn’t disturb their parents by staying in the field of vision.

Jake should have been the one to take control, but Neteyam had stepped up for it — he was a kid, too, eldest child or not. What the fuck am I doing?

In his tumultuous sorrow, every piece of the fortress Jake had put together was coming down, every decision re-evaluated, emotion overtaking what he once thought as logic. His fault. His fault. He had ruined his children, all of them. He had thought embracing the iron will of a war chief would allow him to be a strong father figure, but it had only alienated his family.

You had died in his arms.

Jake contained every storm in a box inside his body, Neytiri lived those storms, she was strong that way. He would take it. Her eyes were only seeing red at the moment, the grief and wrath of a wronged mother. “Yeah, it’s my fault,” he told her, something between a whisper and a sigh. His kids deserved to hear it. “I know.”

“She is dying because of you!” Jake couldn’t escape the truth by closing his eyes, but he did anyway, like an automatic body reflex against detecting something would be hitting him. He swallowed, his mouth was drier than a desert, no relief was found in the action. “My daughter! My child! Your child!” She pushed him again, hissing. Jake didn’t do anything to stop it. “All because you told her to go today—everything, everything… All because you didn’t reach out to her. She hid that.” A shiver shook her voice. “That… because of you. You! She thought you would be angry!”

Violent horror seized his heart, ears pinning back on his head, knuckles clenching so light blue they were almost white. “I would… I would never—how could I ever—?”

But it was in character, wasn’t it? Jake always getting angry over worry for his children. Going crazy because they could have gotten hurt. Fear grows into anger, worm eating away the bark of a tree into poisonous snake. The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, chest rising and falling in big breaths, there was no air.

“She said you hated her. Over and over again, she said you hated her. Not to call you because you would hate her for it, Jake!”

Bitter guilt and glacial shock rose from his stomach, choking him, his eyes looking at anywhere but Neytiri’s blazing golden eyes, to his children who sat together seemingly away from them but blatantly listening, to the tent flames were barely illuminating the shadows inside. His legs were weak. All that he had been breaching behind a wall to prioritize your safety flooded rancid to his mind.

Jake got angry at you all the time that you’d expected it at your most vulnerable. That he would blame you, reprimand you for his enemy’s actions.

His memories were attacked by all sides. That you had gone off on your own for the Iknimaya everybody should have been there for, he should have painted your face personally for. That you have been hiding the bleeding out from the moment Jake had found you pinned down by the dead body of an avatar, from the moment you’d answered positively to the question of if you were hurt or not, with that rifle he’d thought you didn’t let go because of how the events had shaken you. He opened his mouth, a gaping fish, but no words came out, mute and voiceless.

Hate you? Hate you? Hate his own child he would burn the whole world for?

His child. Suffering in silence when her nature was anything but silent. Afraid of her father when she was the most fearless of his kids when facing him.

You thought you weren’t loved.

“What have you done to our children? What has this family become? What are we if our children are too afraid to come to us in their darkest hours?” Neytiri was snarling, both fury and grief battling inside her, teeth gnashing so hard they could sharpen a knife. “What child does not seek her parents when she is hurt?”

Unseeing, Jake couldn’t stand anymore, staggering towards a particularly large rock and sitting on it, he raised his hands to rub his face but stopped when he saw the blood.

All yours. All his daughter’s who he had failed. Who had died in his arms thinking she was hated because Jake was a shit excuse of a father you couldn’t trust to say you were hurt that you would take the risk of dying so he wouldn’t find out.

His daughter’s blood, on his hands.

He put his elbows to his legs, crossing his wrists to lean his forehead on, yet unable to hide his shaking hands even if he managed to hide his face. Jake couldn’t comprehend any of this, crushed beneath the skyful of burning hot shame and the guilt dwarfing him — tears he couldn’t seem to shed found life in his eyes at him trying to blink away the memory of you clinging to your ikran at the flight home. You had been suffering the whole time and all he could think about was Quaritch when he should have been thinking of you.

“What child would rather hide her injury than let her father know?” It shocked his spine like lightning, and Jake visibly flinched, fists clenching and unclenching. “Explain this to me!”

Shame. Shame. Shame. Jake was about to throw up, rocking back and forth.

He had nothing to say. Nothing could ever excuse this. He couldn’t wash away all your moments from this night, all a cursed film strip haunting his every breath accompanied by thorns that ripped apart his insides.

“If she lives,” Neytiri said, pointing a curled hand at him, slowly, scarily calm, but shaking with mastered rage. If she lives destroyed Jake. “We would be lucky if my mother doesn’t decide to perform Stxel’eveng as Tsahik!”

Jake’s head shot up at the word, his arms dropping altogether and meeting his mate’s tortured stare. As Olo’eyktan, he had to be taught the traditions and ceremonies to the point of talking in his sleep from overlearning — this one was a long lost one the clan hadn’t performed for a long time, as the Omatikayan were faithful and loyal to Eywa and her teachings.

Stxel’eveng was the shortened word for ‘Gifting of a Child’ — an adoption ceremony within Na’vi that didn’t even have the word ‘adopt’ in their vocabulary, simply because it was almost non-existent, most Na’vi didn’t even know the existence of such a tradition. If the parents were unable to care and provide for their child, mistreated on purpose or neglected them to the point of no return, they were to be publicly dishonored by the gifting of said child to another willing family. A knot would be formed between the three, one thread bound around the waist of the mother signifying the womb, one thread fastened to the queue of the father, and the final thread to the wrists of the child as if they were captive. The knot, then, would be severed by Tsahik to symbolize the dissolvement of the familial relations in Eywa’s eyes.

The biggest shame a Na’vi could bring upon their name.

“No,” Jake muttered, his mind going blank yet again. Fuck the shame. Damn his name. He couldn’t lose you. It’s a stone in his throat he can’t swallow, whales on his tongue he can’t speak to save himself.

“Pray to Eywa it doesn’t happen. Because if I was Tsahik, I would do it.” Neytiri turned away from him, pushing the heel of her hands on her damp eyes. “I cannot bear this shame, Jake. I can barely breathe.”

He quivered like a baby leaf caught in a storm, a couple more tears rolling down his cheeks. “Neytiri…”

“I lost my daughter today. She slipped from my fingers. I watched her die.” He lowered his head at her grief, vision swimming. “How am I a mother when I can't feel her pain? How am I worthy of being her mother when I saw my child’s pain and just sat there helpless? Why would the Great Mother ever want to send her back?” She just kept going, not having any mercy on Jake’s soul. “Where was I when she won against her ikran? Where was I when she had her first flight? Where was I to protect her from those demons?”

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning.

Who was Jake Sully?

“Lo’ak, come back here!”

Both of them turned just in time to see their youngest son running away from the back of the tent they’d been hiding, Neteyam following a couple steps before he stopped to look back, probably at his sister.

“I’ll get him,” Jake said, soulless and absentminded. Neytiri didn’t respond, stalking back to Mo’at’s tent, just kneeling in front of the entrance, wrapping her hands and tail around her knees. Tuk turned the corner, scampering towards her and finding refuge in Neytiri immediately wrapping around her protectively.

Jake wasn’t allowed to comfort his mate.

But he could get to his children who needed it. Trust, Neytiri had said. Honesty.

Walking up to Neteyam, he put a warm hand behind his rigid back, and felt the taut muscles relax underneath his touch, another wave of shame hitting at the inability to recall just when he had last comforted his boy.

“Get Tuk. Go home. Rest.”

Neteyam turned to him, scandalized. “We will stay.”

“Neteyam—”

“Dad—sir, please. I can’t leave my sister.”

That sir was a splash of acid on his already weeping heart.

It dawned on Jake that Neteyam was the one witnessing your moment of death. Death. A surge of nausea shot up from his esophagus, and he didn’t stop himself from hooking an arm around the boy, careful of using his hands not to get blood on the eldest, pulling him into a much awaited embrace. He hadn’t allowed him to be a kid.

“It’s okay, Neteyam,” he croaked. “She’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Neteyam’s arms didn’t wrap around him, unfamiliar to the gesture — crumbling Jake’s already broken heart into dust, but he did shiver, fighting the tremble. He simply said, “I pray so.”

He was still trying to hold it together — for everybody’s sake.

Jake felt the boy’s tears on his skin, and didn’t let him go when he tried to step back to wipe them, letting Neteyam cry silently as much as he wanted. He owed the boy that much, as his father. It was the least he could do.

Jake would stitch this family back together. He had to.

Washing the blood off his hands had taken a while. Jake wasn’t let off easy, cursed by the remaining line of bloodied dirt in his nails.

He found Lo’ak at where it all began. The mouth of the cave where your ikran was disturbing the other ones with restless chittering, reminding Jake of a wolf howling all night at the full moon.

His youngest son was transfixed by the blood staining the ground. Just standing there, looking at it. Jake couldn’t protect him from the sight. Not anymore. He himself could barely stomach it.

“Is sister going to be taken away?” was the first thing he asked Jake, not looking at him still.

Jake didn’t know if he meant death, or Stxel’eveng.

“I pray not,” he told Lo’ak, honest for once.

And like him, the boy wasn’t sentimental or emotional enough to bear his wounds to another, even to a family member, and fell silent. “It has Toruk’s colors,” he said instead, referring to your ikran’s red, orange, yellow and black patterns. Looking at the creature, Jake tried his hardest to stand up straight when he discerned all the blood coating its neck and back from the natural red color disguising it. “I wanted to fly with her.”

Pulling him into a side-hug, “I’m sorry, Lo’ak,” Jake admitted, causing him to finally break the trance he had on the blood. Speechless at his father, proud and strong, admitting he was wrong out loud and that he was being hugged when it wasn’t like his father at all to show them casual physical affection. Jake knew what must be going through his head, he would be thinking the same if his own father had ever taken responsibility for wrongdoings, as well. “It’s my fault you didn’t get to.”

Lo’ak’s mouth was hanging low. “Dad…”

“But you will,” he said, determined and full of hope. He had to be. For his children.

“You think so?”

“I pray so,” he quoted Neteyam. “Your sister is stubborn. She will pull through. Don’t lose faith in her.”

Lo’ak’s grip on his forearm was painful.

“That ikran’s lost the half of its tail fins,” the boy sniffled, thickening his voice to hide the tears. “How did it get all the way here?”

It stung in Jake’s chest. The same way you’d hidden that injury. Your ikran was fueled only by the desire to get its rider to safety, it seemed.

It would never fly again.

Jake looked down at Lo’ak, only to be met with him avoiding his look, still concerned with hiding the tears. “Loyalty,” he said. “Devotion. Sometimes you don’t want to lose the things you love no matter what, that desperation gives you enough strength to push through any trial by fire. You would do anything. Anything.”

And sometimes it was fear that did it, but he didn’t mention that to Lo’ak to not put salt on their family’s injury. Jake didn’t want to think about how terrified you must have been, or he would actually go insane. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of you not making it in the end. He had to keep going. He had to push forward. Be the father this family needed him to be.

“Come on, boy,” he pulled Lo’ak gently. “Let’s go back.”

Your ikran whined at this pitifully. Jake tried not to think. He tried not to imagine what your reaction would be upon learning you would never fly together again, and had to put down this ikran that had been devoted endlessly to you if you wanted to get a new one.

Jake didn’t think. Because if he did, he would actually go insane from the pain.

Mo’at and Kiri emerged from the tent only in the morning, by which the whole family was cocooned in Jake’s embrace for the first time in years before the sky people had come back. They all had scrambled to get up, waiting with bated breath for one syllable of good news as Kiri slipped into Jake’s arms, one wink from falling asleep while standing. He kissed the girl’s head, soothing her, hoping this could be you eventually. He had been praying for it like a madman.

“Eywa has accepted to bestow your daughter back to you, Jakesuli,” was the only answer Mo’at had for them, no word about your physical wellbeing. “But only if she accepts as well.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You must go speak with her. At the Tree of Souls.”

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🗡️ Feyd's Blade 🗡️ - II - A thousand cuts

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.1K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Feyd-Rautha is used to getting exactly what he wants when he wants it. Considering the feelings of another is foreign to him, but he wants to know you. He desires you in every way, so much so he cannot fathom things not going his way. Instead of lashing out Feyd chooses distance. Only his choice of bride is unpopular and his distance leaves you vulnerable.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: voyeurism, manipulation, attempted sexual assault (not between Feyd & Reader), rage, property destruction, several sexual fantasies, possessiveness.

PART I

🗡️ Feyd's Blade 🗡️ - II - A thousand cuts

“Feyd-Rautha”

You awake in a cold sweat and remove your blankets, the room is dark, the air is muggy. Your ears ring with all the voices you’ve ever heard recount the man's name. Closing your eyes as it begins again, focusing hard, concentrating you find your fathers voice. Taking deep breaths you hold onto the sound of it. His cadence stands out, the way he spoke and the promise he held in his voice for the name. Vaguely you remember being five or so and making Feyd a bracelet for his birthday. Leather and metal weaved together in an intricate braid. The heat draws you from the memories and away from the life you once had. Unbuttoning your sleep top you opt for a delicate babydoll. Swallowing hard you look up trying to find the source of the heat or a panel to control the temperature settings. You pad around the room the lights illuminating right ahead of you as if controlled by sensors. Unable to find the control panel you find yourself at a large window. Looking out at Giedi Prime at night you find a strange beauty in the depths of the darkness. Placing your hand on the glass you find it cool and lean against it. Perhaps so many years in Arrakis had affected their ability to sense heat.

Feyd watches you from his personal quarters. He’d tried falling asleep for hours after coming hard from visions of you washing yourself. His eyes couldn’t get enough of you. He was making mental notes for all the ways he would have you. He imagined being beside you, cleaning your soft skin and touching all the parts of you no other man would. He needed to see you again, all of you, while he enjoyed watching you sleep peacefully he needed to lay eyes on what was his once more. Managing the console he decided to turn up the heat. He’d watched you stir for a few minutes tossing and turning, tossing off your coverings until there were no more, he watched you change into a small silk bed set, one he’d picked out in his travels. He couldn’t place it, the thing about you that drew him in, that quieted all other distractions. It had been so when he was a boy as well. There’d been a million other things for him to do while on his visit, it wasn’t custom that boys remembered their betrothed. He certainly wasn’t expected to spend as much time with you as he did but he had been fascinated by you at a young age. He’d only been privy to the harshness and cruelty of the Harkonnen way. His brother was a brute and his uncle made men shudder. Strength was celebrated among his kind and there you were. Perhaps it was the amount of care he saw being poured into you. How your room had been colour coordinated with colours that reflected happiness, or that anyone could be so attentive to create such an atmosphere. Perhaps it was the scented air that was pumped in to wake you up and the alternative fragrance provided to settle you in bed. Young Feyd watched everyone dote on you endlessly, it was something he couldn’t identify with and therefore felt jealous of. But then he’d looked into your crib after witnessing person after person fuss at you.

The resentment only lasted a moment, you looked up at him with a toothless smile and he was yours from that moment. Your little hand around his finger and he was committed. There was no love, just a connection and dedication. It was pure and innocent. Feyd had only wanted to be another member of your host of caregivers. He imagined himself happy in your home world, happy among your people and eventually happy with you. Now, there was no one alive with enough power and resources to give you the life you deserved. He could care for things, his knife collection was extensive, there were over a thousand rare blades all still sharp to the touch. He knew every one of them intimately, he knew what they were capable and best used for. Which cut objects best, which cut through skin, which were mostly decorative and which caused the most pain. Which worked best with poisons and there were even a few rare relics that could also throw flames. Each was a work of art. Each protected dearly from corruption, damage and the outside world. Preserving them and enjoying them as they were designed to be used was Feyd’s and only Feyd’s responsibility. He intended to do the same thing with you. His most prized possession. Equalising the temperature he heads out of his room determined to spend the day getting to know you. Heading out to find a snack for his viewing pleasure he seizes at the sight of you barefoot, unguarded and lost with a large black robe draped over you.

Turning he walks over to face you, your eyes grow in size as you look him over. Feyd-Rautha would never fail to be striking, the hairlessness of him and those deep dark eyes, the strong chest and rippled abs. His expression asks the question before his lips can.

“Is everything well?” He asks. Looking up at him you swallow, averting your eyes from his muscular build.

“Parched, I was looking for water” you explain and Feyd nods in understanding. He stands holding out his large lethal hand. You look over the gesture unsure. Feyd-Rautha is a killer but he is also the man your father chose to have your hand. Looking at his hand again you relent, placing yours within him. Feyd gives you the surprise of a smile as he brings your hand to his lips placing a chaste kiss on it. It was against everything you had ever learned about the Harkonnen way. The Harkonnen were brutal men with insatiable appetites for whatever it was they loved; money, resources, respect, sex. They would get drunk on it, get their fill and let it destroy them. Per every contemporary record Feyd-Rautha’s appetites were for blood and respect. Kindness and gestures of flattery were beneath him, even with his uncle the Baron and arguably the second most powerful under the emperor.

“I’ve yet to figure out what you hope to gain from this arrangement” you comment against your better judgement. The Reverend mother had always commented on your lack of impulse control. It was a shock to everyone that you managed to withstand the pain of the box and avoid the Gom Jabbar.

“Willing submission, to be the first person you think of when you wake and the last at night before sleep takes you. Your body, your laughter, your smiles, all of your tomorrows, your arousal, desire, trust and your unconditional love” Feyd-Rautha’s words couldn’t come as more of a surprise. Your heart flutters but you don't know if you can trust it. You try to remove your hand from his, uncomfortable with his desires but his grip tightens forbidding it. Feyd has enough decency to allow you the reprieve of looking away as you enter another room in the labyrinth that is the palace. He pulls out a chair at a small irregularly shaped table and seats you before heading into a dimly lit room. You watch him curiously and he returns with a carafe of water and a fresh glass.

“Thank you” you mutter while taking a drink to quench your thirst. Feyd’s eyes never leave yours. You look away from him examining the room, it's very similar to the rest, simple, void of colour but somehow stately impressive.

“Nothing else to say?” He asks.

“Where is the Mentat that’s been stationed outside of my quarters”

“You wound me,” Feyd smiles.

“On assignment to retrieve something I think you’ll enjoy,” Feyd says.

“What may that be?” You ask curiously.

“Your mother used to send me your family archives, videos of milestones. It was brought to my attention that perhaps a piece of your home world could lessen the transition.” His words are such a surprise, you don’t remember anything of the sort. Nodding you try your best to make sense of his kindness. The intensity of his eyes never falters, the weight of them is immense as he tracks your every movement.

“What is it? Why are you staring?” You ask feeling self-conscious.

“You’re beautiful” he says. His words are shocking. The Harkonnens weren’t paragons of beauty, they were destroyers of it - historically. And somehow in its own strange and sterile way perhaps there was a beauty to this planet.

“Why don’t you get dressed, let me arrange an early breakfast and I can show you around while it’s being prepared” Feyd offers standing. You hadn’t realised your glass and the small carafe were now empty, he must’ve been tracking it.

“Ok” you nod. Standing he leaves the table as is holding out a hand again. You take it surprised by its consistent warmth. His stride is wide and it’s hard for you to keep up, when he realises he slows running his thumb along your hand so you can keep pace. Feyd's actions confuse you to no end. His requirements of you replaying in his head, unconditional love - a tremendous ask of a stranger. You stiffen when you see he can open the doors of your chambers only for it to amuse him, he smirks stepping into the rooms like they’re just as much his. It’s unnerving, he’s a dangerous man, a powerful man with an effervescent virility. Heading into your quarters you find suitable garments and apply them in a few minutes before emerging to Feyd now wearing a shirt. He smiles, removing your headpiece.

“You don’t have to hide your beauty, not around me”

“Around who then?” You ask as he takes your hand kissing it again.

“No one, people know better” he remarks..

“I know better than most that safety can’t be guaranteed” you confess.

“It can,” he affirms.

“You’re a passionate man, with a penchant for danger anything could happen. If you refuse the Princess’ hand the sisterhood will turn on you. People make side comments about Bene Gesserit witches but they are influential” you advise as he walks you into a cylinder.

“The Princess?” he smirks.

“Yes” you respond.

“I’m not interested” he confesses just as you shoot up. You’re terrified and he reaches out holding you close as it continues. The accelerated speeds are riveting but Feyd-Rautha’s militant stance remains solid as he holds you. When it ends he gives you a moment before stepping out. You can see it all from up here. The white sun is rising. Heading to the edge of the lookout you have a seat looking at the darkness of the planet and all the little lights. Feyd takes a seat beside you. He’d never found himself more enamoured with a single human or object. There was something visceral about how connected he felt to you. There was never any confusion in himself as to how you may feel, there’s a sense of knowing within him. He watches you look down into the most populated parts of Giedi. Where he could connect to your feelings he often found your thoughts to be a mystery to him. He wondered how anyone could take such comfort in stillness. Only time he enjoyed being still as before he was about to strike, nothing about you suggested anything of the sort. Violence seemed all together out of your nature.

He would have to learn to be gentle, to take pleasure in the softness of your skin, the slow throes of pleasure, your facial expressions when he dug deeper inside. The taste of your arousal on his fingers after you came for him and only him. He would need to break you in slowly, he would have you forever after all. Patience and diligence would be required for the task of getting you to open up for him, for you to understand his intentions for you were as pure as the steel in his sacred blades. He would do anything for you.

He would do it all.

“Were you promised to someone else?” He asks as soon as the thought crosses his mind. The thought that filled him with unbridled rage. He would have whomever that man was and place him in the arena. He would prove himself to her.

“No”

“No?” Feyd pry’s.

“There were a few attempts to have me matched. The men were decent enough but I never saw myself married” you confess.

“Who were the men?” Feyd-Rautha asks.

“The look in your eyes says it’s against my better judgement to disclose the names of innocent men” you smile looking back out to the white sun as he looks at you.

“Have you kept lovers?” Feyd asks, his temper bubbling.

“No, no lovers” You smile looking at him. “What of your pleasure slaves and pets?” You ask. His eyes grow and then he swallows, he’s railed with insecurity.

“What of them?” He asks and you shrug.

“Is there a selection process?” You ask and he stands shaking his head.

“Satisfaction, if they’re unable to do that then they’re useless to me” Feyd speaks plainly.

“Will that also be my fate?” You whisper and his eyes close in regret.

“No, I can only think of three rules I have for you to follow,” Feyd says.

“Am I permitted rules too?” You ask and he smiles chuckling a little.

“Perhaps I could be persuaded into following a few” he responds, his honesty is refreshing. “No other men, no other man gets to even touch you. Nothing beyond a handshake, if his eyes linger too long I’ll cut them out, if his hands touch pieces of you they shouldn’t he will lose them at the end of my blade. You try everything once and you never lie to me.” He says.

“What if I were to fall and a man helped me up? Would you take his life for holding me at the waist?” You ask. Feyd blinks like he doesn’t see the issue.

“Touching the na-Baroness will be his last great deed before death” he says with no qualms. It amuses and unsettles you in equal parts. You let out an awkward laugh.

“That is absurd” you remark.

“Not here, here the men would look at you and their thoughts alone would justify my actions” he says speaking from advise he cannot be in her presence for long without fantasising about how she felt inside.

“So these rules are typical of marriages here?” You ask, curious.

“No” Feyd- Rautha says.

“I cannot promise to try everything once or never lie, there will be times I will refuse things and there will be instances I am not forthcoming. To agree to that would be disingenuous and I can see you’re not holding back” you find your bravery and your voice.

“Your rules?” He asks but you can’t think of any.

“I have no rules, I’ve never given marriage any serious thought.” you admit.

“Hmm” he says displeased.

“Would you have preferred I lied?” You ask, it takes Feyd a moment to decide. He shakes his head.

“If you had your choice would you marry me?” He asks, trying to trap you in your commitment to the truth, watching as the white sun strips all pigment from you.

“My father thought you were right for me, he didn’t know the man you’d become but he trusted in you. I don’t have many memories but I know my father loved me very much. That’s why I haven’t run.” You confess honestly.

It’s a blow to his ego, Feyd-Rautha was revered. He was the heir to the wealthiest house in the empire outside of the emperor himself. He was a fierce warrior, respected and feared. His people chanted his name in all of his fights and women doted after him. Still after all the trouble he’d gone through to find you it was your late father, a dead man's wishes that meant more to you than him. He needed you to understand that he was it for you, that he was all.

“You could never out run me” he says with a venom laced tone. Looking away from the coliseum you meet his black eyes, the lower half of his face already devoid of colour from the sunlight. You look at him over recognizing the anger that’s creeped into him over your words. His jaw hardens and he turns heading back to the cylinder. Feyd steps out of your reach waiting before pressing the button to descend. The speed makes your hair rise above your head. He leads you back to your quarters without holding your hand. His blood lust is too high for physical interaction of any kind. His heart knew what you needed. You needed him of sound mind, capable of being gentle, capable of loving you, capable of withholding his urges and managing his anger. Capable of withholding punishments for unexplained infractions. His need for you is so strong it’s maddening. It’s taking everything in him not to toss you onto the bed, tie you up to keep you in place and claim you. He would empty himself inside of you, he would leave it in. He would be there day by day as your stomach grew. He would stand beside you with pride, leaving no question who you belonged to. He’d keep you smiling so everyone knew how content you were with him. He wanted you to look at his child with the same amount of adoration that your mother had for you. He wanted there to be nothing between you, he wanted to take you in the shower. He wanted to take you in the bed, in his chambers, in the great hall, everywhere. He needed to see the need in your eyes every time he looked at you. He needs you to miss him like he’s missed you all these years. Like he misses you from a room away. He needs your love and concern to match his in every way. He needs you to be just as besotted, just as unhinged.

Viewing the spread of food on the table you turn to him before sitting and he hisses a curse turning and storming out of the room without an explanation or another word. You stand there for minutes before realising he doesn’t intend to return.

———

Feyd-Rautha has been with his concubines all week. It’s very clear he’s a man of few words and not prone to managing arguments or disagreements. Nonetheless seamstresses have come by for the last few days capturing measurements of your body. They’ve been tasked with creating dresses for the wedding and his birthday celebration. His absence has been noted among his men and the whispers have been evident. There has been no reduced treatment among your immediate staff but some of the others have taken liberties the Mentat reminds them the na-Baron would disapprove of. It’s nothing comparable to the treachery of life in the academy among the Bene Gesserits. You sit in the grand library among the scrolls playing chess with Leia. The two of you have been practising your telepathic communication, but neither of you have been successfully able to manage the voice. You beat her in your final game of chess and look to see it's almost time for dinner. In spite of your abduction Giedi Prime proves to be far more free than you could have anticipated. Feyd-Rautha could have made you one of his pleasure slaves. Titled you wife but made you nothing more than the bearer of his children and a slave to his desire. Leia thought lowly of his abandonment of you following your last discussion but you have no frame of reference on how to feel. He hadn’t been rude. He hadn’t been mean - just distant. The hospitality of his halls hadn’t ever lessened, you were awarded every privilege. It could be far worse, you're aware of that and somehow that fact is settling.

Sane isn’t Feyd. Even in his absence you sensed him all around you, there’d be some periods of the day where you felt sure he was somewhere close, his presence surrounding and assessing your every move. Like he knew what you were up to. Perhaps it was your guards acting as secondary eyes, perhaps it was the Mentat but you got the feeling your freedom was being monitored. Charting through unknown territory you walk with Leia through an unfamiliar section of the palace. Holding your heads back you look up and the journey to the ceiling seems never-ending. Sun puddles coat the floor in an interesting pattern. Giedi Prime has many architectural feats misaligned with its brutalist architecture.

“Look at the windows” Leia smiles, taking your hand and the two of you look down into a courtyard. Looking down you watch soldiers and guards training, their fighting styles are rugged and brutish. You find yourself looking for Feyd among them but he is absent. You touch Leia to show her the makeshift trees when you're grabbed forcefully. It happens so fast you blink and the two of you have been separated. A fistful of your hair is grabbed and you rein back nailing the culprit in the nose. He groans and you kick backwards hoping to shatter his knee. Alarm fills you as you see Leia in the arms of a large guard. She manages to get him off and the two of you take off down the hall. You hear chatter from ear pieces but on the long stretch of hallway there’s nowhere to hide. Panic fills you as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

“The bitch is dead, '' one snarls and more come down the hall forcing you and Leia to take a sharp turn down into an unfamiliar dark corridor. More and more men join the procession giving chase and your fear peaks. Your voice is shot as you run faster pulling ahead of Leia. Slowing, you urge her to move faster down the hall. You're grabbed in an instant and hit in the face. Your head spins and you see triple. Instinct kicks in as you hear Leia cry out. Picking one of the spinning figures you hold onto flesh digging into eyes that grab your waist. The man screams out.

“A week after na-Baron discards them they’re ours” you hear as another soldier tries climbing on top of you. Squeezing you push his eyes in as hard as you can and he wails. Scrambling up you taste blood managing to grab a gun you have no idea how to use. The cowards stop just as your guards emerge with your Mentat among them you turn to see Leia lose consciousness. You scream going to her, large handprints are along her neck, she stops breathing and a guard gets on his knees to save her life.

“What have you done?” The Mentat asks the soldiers. Hysterics overtake your senses, you lose track of time and you're given a mild sedative to calm you.

Trembling in your room you wait for news regarding Leia’s stability. You have not been able to eat. You’ve been pacing for an hour contemplating the meaning of those brutes words. Was that a hunt orchestrated by Feyd himself? A twisted fantasy? Had he knowingly you were going to be brutally attacked? The doors open and you see your Mentat.

“She is stable, she has been given the best care” he says finally allowing you to breathe a little easier.

“What about Feyd-Rautha?” You ask just as the doors open revealing him in full combat gear. His eyes bulge and his chest rises. He’s furious, you can feel the heat radiating from him a few feet away. Removing his gloves he strides over to you, he’s angry but it can’t be mistaken for being directed at you. He looks away once he’s close.

“What happened!?” He shouts so loud it shakes the chambers. Turning he goes to the Mentat looking murderous. “What happened?” He snaps again pulling out one of his blades.

“They were attacked, they left the library without an escort. The men saw Leia touch the na-Baroness to be and tried to … enforce your rules and then …”

“Have their way with me” you finish the Mentat’s sentence. Feyd takes a step back, his head bowing as his hands tremble. His thumbs run over the tops of the blade as his frustration reaches its peak. Turning to you Feyd closes the space in two large strides. His eyes narrow and he looks at the slight cut on your lip. Lips he’d yet to kiss. Taking your hands he sees swollen knuckles, his hands hover over your waist on your left side before he touches and you wince from the soreness. He withdraws bowing to the hem of your robes, he pulls it up once the Mentat turns his back assessing the purple bruise. Swallowing hard, the veins all over him become prominent. His jaw clicks. He’s too furious to speak, he’s a livewire. Sighing he takes a step away from you and then to you again. Shouting in a fit of rage he throws decorative pieces across the room. It’s a stunning expression of anger and rage.

“Have her dressed” Feyd says and the healers are returned. He watches diligently as they gently apply flowing garments in respect of your injuries. He places a headpiece onto your head by himself walking you out using featherlight touches. A vehicle is waiting and you zip through the halls stopping outside a grand door. You hold Feyd’s hand tighter only to be unnerved at the fear in the brutal men’s eyes. There are nearly fifty of them and yet they tremble at the sight of Feyd-Rautha, a singular being.

“Which of these scum hurt you?” Feyd whispers against your ear. Looking up you scan the faces. It takes you a few moments to locate the one with a red swollen nose and the other who’d been on top of you. You point to them and they’re brought down by one of Feyd’s men. “Which hurt your friend?” He asks and you point to the two culprits, they two are brought down.

“Have them stripped and prepared for death by a thousand cuts” he snaps. “Have a cleaver brought in along with medics. We will have a few more eunuchs.” He says to men who nod. Feyd brings another featherlight touch to your waist guiding you out of the room. You sob, trembling, succumbing to the shock and he lifts you into his arms. The drive to your quarters is short and he carries you back into your quarters sitting on the couch with you cradled in his arms.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, holding you close. “This will never happen again, never. You and your friend fought well and you will never have to fight again” he says softly. The sound of your sobs is heartbreaking. Feyd-Ratha sits torn between his love for you and his eminent need for revenge.

“They said they could because you hadn’t come by in a week. They charged because Leia touched me” you manage through teary sobs remembering the night the mobs came, the screams of women being brutalised and the panic all around to get you in an escape pod. Your breathing quickens and your doors open. The head healer pauses bowing at the sight of the na-Baron.

“She’s stable, she’s awake and concerned for the well-being of the na-Baroness” the healer says and you stand. You will yourself to stop crying as Feyd removes your veil. His eyes search yours with apology. He raises a hand wiping away your tears and smoothing your hair. The bruise on your cheek is a haunting reminder of his failure. He takes your hand heading to the medical rooms. He ushers you in without a word standing back and you look at Leia, laid on the bed. Who would be so bold? You ask yourself as you get to her. It happens in a flash, your eyes roll and you get a flash of Rabban ‘The Beast Harkonnen’. He’s speaking to the man that tried getting on top of you, he’s giving the man instructions. You sense tremendous jealousy, you read his lips ‘I will be the heir’ he declares and then you come to. Leia’s awake, smiling up at you.

“It wasn’t Feyd, he cares for you” she says with telepathy. You respond with a knowing nod. “He told them that they’d die a most painful death if I didn’t survive” she adds.

“It was Rabbane” you respond without words, turning you look back into to see Feyd with a guard checking the sharpness of his blades laid across leather. His eyes find yours and you look to him, he nods with a knowingness, without humour but pure dedication.

“One moment” you say to Leia standing to go to him. You feel drawn to him, connected to him in your anger for what's transpired. It's like you're transfixed as you make your way to him. He looks you over with concern.

“You may leave me here, I do believe I am safe now” you whisper.

“Not until you’re safe in your chambers” Feyd responds unnerved by your state.

“Go now and don’t hold back” you say before pecking his full lips. He’s startled by the gesture but he’d saved you. He’d protected you through a mutiny designed to break you, there was no denying this was likely a plot by the sisterhood, a deal made with Rabban to usurp Feyd-Rautha’s Barony. The betrayal was too cunning and heartless to ignore or let slide. You had not sought Feyd out, they had to know that and still they would subject you to abuse and defiling at the hands of garish brutes. Feyd’s thumb brushes over your burst lip, his fingers pulling your chin in for another chaste kiss. Nodding he steps back for the first time regretful for the reason behind the need to use his blade.

Still even a thousand cuts wouldn’t be enough punishment.

He casts you a final look and you sleep peacefully knowing there’s a chorus from the torture Feyd is administering to the men who’d happily walked towards the opportunity to cause you pain and disgrace. A thousand cuts could be administered many ways, at sunrise you would begin sharpening your blades.

PART III - Charms

_________

TAGS: @elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal

Authors Note:

Thanks for reading, this is a super long one - twice the usual length. I really hope you enjoy it. Comment, reblog and like to support 🩶 Let me know what your favourite part of this story is thus far.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x black reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #black authors #dune part 2 #dune part two #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha x reader #feyd smut #feyd x you #feyd oneshot #dune 2 #harkonnen

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ohdeersthings · 1 year

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Listen

Ao'nung x F!Deaf!Metkayina!Reader

Summary: Ao'nung has loved you since childhood.

Warning: Fluff, Ao'nung is a jerk to everyone but reader, some angst (I love emotional revelation of feelings), characters are aged up 18+ but no warnings here! Ronal ships reader and Ao'nung,

Note: was a request from @keyratch hope you enjoy it!

~.~

Growing up, you always knew you were different. You couldn't hear the ocean waves, couldn't listen to the music of your clan for celebrations. You couldn't even harmonize with your mother as she sings to lull you to sleep.

Being born deaf, your parents tried so hard to pray to Eywa for a sign. The Tsahìk, Ronal, tried every herb and technique she knew, but nothing could change who you were.

What Eywa had decided for you to be.

You never blamed Eywa though, for the Great Mother had blessed you to feel a connection to her. You could feel her in the sand; the warmth of the sun that she blessed you with, the coolness of the ocean as you swam to admire the creatures she's created.

Even as a small child you had been drawn to the beauty of the Pandora.

The smallest sea shells you would collect and braid into your hair, stringing some together to make a necklace, bracelet, or head peice. The brightest floral you would gather to present to friends and family, just because the beauty of them made you think of others.

Ao'nung had only been eight when he met you for the first time. While training with his father on spear throwing he had caught sight of you collecting sea shells.

He was so distracted by you, he grabbed the spear wrong and cut his finger. Letting out a small hiss of pain, he instantly sucked on it, causing his father to gaze at him and then at you. Tonowari couldn't help but chuckle, "I see the silent beauty has caught your eye," Ao'nung was confused by his father's words, but quickly denied having even spotted you.

"Well that's too bad, because here she comes right now," sure enough you had seen the leader with his son, Ao'nung and had started over in their direction when you saw the big was hurt.

Ao'nung could only feel himself freeze as you closed the distance fast, suddenly reaching out to grab his hand as he tried to back away,

"H-hey! What are you doing?!" Ao'nung flinched as you pressed on his finger, the one he'd cut being too caught up looking at you. You never said anything, just brought out a healing leaf from your hip pouch and wrapped his finger quickly and efficiently.

"Thank you," he mumbled, you smiled and let go of his hand, signing to him, 'Would you like to play after training?' It had puzzled him why you didn't just ask out loud, but after looking to his father for assurance, he nodded to you causing you to smile and nod, turning back the way you'd come and headed away.

"Father, why didn't she just ask me?" Ao'nung questioned, looking up at Tomowari who smiled sadly at him, "she is deaf my son, she cannot speak for she never learned how, she cannot hear you," Ao'nung didn't feel any different towards you, maybe more curious, but he never felt like you were weird.

~.~

After that day many years ago, Ao'nung had grown, and so did his love for you. What started out as amazement and adoration as children, had since grown into feeling as if you were the only one for him.

The way you helped his sister with day to day chores, such grace and beauty weaving baskets and collecting herbs for his mother. The complete definition of selfless as you taught the children of the clan their sign, who else but you with your patience and grace.

The tingles you left on his body when you would tap his hand, shoulder, arm, anything to get his attention. You left him yearning for your attention day and night. Left him in agonizing pain at the thought of having you with him under the stars but couldn't.

Yourself however, would be a prize to any fine young Na'vi, but to your own self image you were at the bottom of the food chain. Your biggest insecurity being your deafness. You would never hear your mates words of love and comfort, would never hear the giggles of your own future children should Great Mother bless you with any.

You never had anyone express interest in you, although Ao'nung made sure of that, not that you knew. He always glared, growled or warned any man who looked in your direction. He made sure to linger a hand on your waist while talking, a smug look over his shoulder at the hunters who had tried to talk to you, a smirk at the Ilu keepers who tried to get to close.

When the Sullys had arrived, you had been busy helping Ronal with her duties as she was trusting you to take over while she got ready to give birth.

You didn't get to see Tsireya and Ao'nung as often as they were busy with teaching the new comers the traditions and expectations of the clan.

'(Y/N) go fetch Ao'nung, he should be down on the beach,' Ronal requested, you nodded, standing from your sitting position and heading out of the Marui, starting your trek to the beach.

You had found a few flowers on your way, taking a moment to pluck them from the ground and arranged them nicely. Maybe Ao'nung would like something to help brighten his mood.

Stopping once you reached the beach, you felt your eyes widen in disbelief as Ao'nung and his friends were surrounding Kiri, pointing at her and laughing. Kiri was clearly uncomfortable and trying to walk away, luckily Lo'ak came and started to intercept the boys, only they turned their hateful ways onto him.

You felt your fists clench up, nervously twisting the flowers. You started walking in that direction, Neteyam showing up as well from beside you, making yourself known too.

Ao'nungs ears pressed back, his body feeling hot with embarrassment that you'd caught him being rude to someone.

"Oh look, big brother to the rescue-" Ao'nung reached his hand out, silencing his friend who bowed his head obediently. "I need you to respect my sister from now on," Neteyam threatened, his eyes glaring into Ao'nung who nodded, trying to ease the anxiety in his chest as you approached too.

You tapped Kiris hand, the girl turning to you as you looked her over, as she tried to calm you down, 'I'm fine, no harm done,' she assured, you face turning into one of doubt but giving up in the end.

The three siblings went to walk away, but Lo'ak suddenly turned around and went back to Ao'nung, his smirk and quirked eyebrow making you upset a little. Why was he acting this way? Was he really this mean to them?

Ao'nung didn't know what had happened when Lo'ak punched him, one second he was standing and the next on the floor with his friends helping him up. They all jumped Lo'ak who held his ground to the best of his abilities, but soon found his brother Neteyam jumping in to help him.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth in disbelief, the flowers falling into the sand forgotten. Why were they doing this? 'Kiri, we need to stop them' you told her, but even she could only look on in a mix of horror and laughter.

Deciding that enough was enough, you inserted yourself into the fight, Ao'nungs friends quickly backing away as you pulled them off.

Neteyam hadn't seen you enter the fight, when he felt his shoulder get touched he quickly turned and went to punch the person, barely being able to stop himself before he hit you.

You had flinched inward, arms raised quickly to protect yourself, eyes shut incase of pain. "(Y/N)!" Ao'nung threw himself to you, shoving Neteyam out of the way, his hands gently grabbing yours to bring them down.

You squeaked, the cutest sound Ao'nung had ever heard, and opened your eyes to see Ao'nung checking you for injuries despite his cheek being bruised and lip busted. His eyes held fear and worry, hands moving from your arms to gently hold your face.

An adult nearby had brought his father and Toruk Makto, but he didn't care for the shouts that were happening, he could only focus on you. He brought his hands into view, 'You okay?' Ao'nung questioned, though your face contorted into worry as you held his face, feeling bad when he flinched from your thumb brushing his cheek.

He grabbed your hand and held it at his side as he turned to Neteyam, "Don't you ever touch her again!" If it hadn't been for his father pulling him away with you in tow, he would've attacked the oldest sibling.

"Maybe don't start things your girlfriend tries to finish!" Lo'ak yelled back, getting dragged away by his own father.

Upon entering the Marui, his mother hit him upside the head, "skxqwng! You brought (Y/n) into this?! I pray for the resilience to not break your bones!" Ao'nung averted his mother and fathers gaze, his head down as he couldn't even look to you either. Ashamed you had caught him at his worst moment.

"I leave (Y/n) to take care of your wounds, Great Mother help you find some sense!" Ronal hissed, Tonowari leading her out of the Marui to give you two some privacy.

You slowly walked over, placing a hand on his arm, Ao'nung letting you lead him to the mat and both of you sitting down facing eachother.

'What were you thinking?' You inquired, waiting for his reply as you began to mix a paste together. 'I wasn't thinking, but they deserved it, freaks all of them' he huffed, sucking it back in when you roughly applied the paste to his cheek.

His eyes found yours as you stared at him with hurt, 'What does that make me then? I cannot hear, I cannot speak well, they can communicate freely, I have to look for eyes and attention,'

Ao'nung felt his throat constrict, his hands clamy. You were so beautiful in his eyes, but the way he treated them made you think ill of yourself and that's not want he wanted.

You looked down, eyes glossy from unshed tears. His hand on your chin made you look at him, your lip trembling as your ears pressed back.

Ao'nung let go and signed only one word, but it made your body erupt in flames.

'Beautiful'

~.~

Since the incident with the boys on the beach, Ao'nung tried to be kind in your presence when the sullys were around but when the opportunity to trick Lo'ak revealed itself, he couldn't help it.

When he returned though and found you looking at him with those eyes again. Eyes filled with pain and now disappointment, he knew had to do the right thing.

'I'm sorry,' he apologized, finding you alone by the beach later that night. You turned from him, arms crossed. You weren't going to look at him or reply.

He fell to his knees in front of you, grasping at your hands desperately. You huffed, eyes glaring into him. Ao'nung used to pray he would never see that day you gave him that look, but after what he'd done to Lo'ak he could say he deserved it.

Hands trailing from your hands down to your elbows, he slowly let go and began to speak, "I'm sorry, I know I've been stupid and they don't deserve that, I'm not sure what I was thinking," Ao'nung kept his eyes trained on yours, watching you look exhausted.

"Why risk the danger? What if he'd gotten hurt? Or worse, you," you felt your lips pull back in a snarl, though he could only find pleasure in the fierceness of your face. His heart beat fast knowing you cared about him.

"I wish you would think with this," you placed your hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat, "not with this," you playfully pushed his forehead, a smile appearing on your lips. You couldn't stay mad at him, not when he smiled at you as softly as he did now.

He grasped your hand, bringing it back to his chest. You felt your own speed up to match his, both of you filled with deep affection for one another, not that the other knew.

You both stared at eachother for what felt like hours, yet only a few minutes had passed, just enjoying eachothers company.

When you had broken out of your daydream however, you quickly pulled your hand away and stood up, eyes darting everywhere but him as you shakily signed, "we shouldn't be doing this, I have to go,"

Ao'nung couldn't stand fast enough when you pulled away, tripping over the sand as you ran. Everything had just been perfect, what had happened?

~.~

You helped Ronal to sit, her stomach slowly getting bigger as the days went on. "Baby is good?" You wondered, a grin on your face of excitement as she nodded, her own smile gracing her features.

'Baby is strong, maybe a boy like Ao'nung,' she replied, you nodding in agreement, 'Ao'nung differently is strong,'

'Yes, he will be a great Olo'eyktan, if only he hurry and choose his Tsahìk,' she let her eyes slip to your figure out of the corner of her sight, seeing you quickly look down and away. Not out of embarrassment it seemed, but out of disappointment.

Ronal frowned, she did not like seeing you so hurt, especially by her own child, lest he be stupid enough to do it.

Ronal placed her hand on your cheek, bringing your face back up to make eye contact with her, 'why do you look so sad? What has happened?'

You tried to brush her off, 'it's nothing, I'm sure whoever he chooses will make a lovely Tsahìk,' you began to ramble, hands moving quickly, 'Ney`ite is the best diver, Alyara is known to sing beautifully, from what I've seen and been told,'

'He deserves someone who can help him feel better on rough days, someone who can actually listen and help with his problems, who loves and cherishes him as he is,'

Ronal tapped your hand, causing you to heat up in realization, you'd been rambling for too long. 'Someone, like you?' She quirked her brow, a knowing smirk on her face.

You shook your head, eyes feeling glossy with tears, 'what do I have to offer him?' You felt a hiccup erupt in your throat from trying to hold in your sobs, 'I cannot listen to his problems, I cannot comfort our children with words when crying, no one would look to me, Eywa may love me as she created me, but surely Ao'nung loves another,'

Ronal felt her eyes catch the sight of a figure standing behind you. Ao'nung could only stand frozen as he saw what you thought of yourself. He's never loved anyone like he loves you, and it's his fault for making you think otherwise.

Ronal grasped your hands firmly, shaking her head at you. Ronal reached a hand for Ao'nung who walked over, his shadow startling you as you looked upwards, his face looking hurt by your own tears.

Ronal placed your hand in his, his fingers gripping your own softly but firm, like a silent promise to never let go.

The Tsahìk bowed in exiting the Marui, leaving both of you alone.

Ao'nung knelt to face you, your cheeks hot with humiliation that he had to see you like this. You tried to look elsewhere but he placed his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him.

He let go, feeling a moment of Deja Vu as he thought back to two nights ago by the water. When you both had been just as close in the sand.

"You are not less than anyone here," he signed, feeling his heart excelerate with emotion.

'(Y/n), I don't need to hear your voice to know your words are strong and kind, I don't need your words of comfort when your touches are enough,' he placed your hand on his chest, just as he did those nights ago. He hoped you would feel his heart that's beating full of love for you.

You could only feel a bizarre rush of emotions, anger at yourself for letting Ao'nung find out this way, fear in what is to come, yet, love from knowing he felt the same as you did.

'I'm sorry you did not see yourself as adequate when you are more than I could ever dream, the love you hold for our clan speaks words where your lips may fail,'

You felt your lips quiver, tears falling down your face as you tried to hold yourself together.

'I see you, (Y/n), and I would love for you to become my Tsahìk, my mate,'

You laughed, 'I would love to spend my life with you, I see you, Ao'nung,' you pressed your forehead to his, his own tear or two slipping from his eye as you both enjoyed this moment of peace together.

He raised both hands to your face, cupping your head as he brought your lips to his, the soft, plush feeling of your lips nearly driving him mad with desire. Your own hand finding home on his chest and shoulder as you felt weak from lack of air.

Pulling away, you made him stand up with you, his eyes showing curiosity. You smirked at him, 'Wanna go somewhere more private?' Ao'nungs silence spoke for itself as he dragged you out of the Marui, right past his parents who had a sudden look of realization.

"Oh Great Mother," Ronal sighed exasperated, "Looks like our youngest will be close in age to our grandchild," Tonowari mumbled, flinching from Ronal who began to hit him from saying such words, "skxqwng!"

~.~

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar: the way of water #atwow fanfiction #atwow imagines #aonung x reader #aonung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung #ao'nung x y/n #ao'nung x you #ao'nung x deaf reader #ao'nung x deafreader #aonung x deaf reader #aonung x deafreader #aonung x Metkayina #aonung x you #aonung x y/n #aonung x

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mysticdarling · 1 year

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Calling them by their real name - part 2 (spicy)

Characters: venti, xiao, scaramoche (genshin impact!)

Warnings: established relationship, NSFW, breeding., biting, n!pple stimulation, primal, exhibitionism, penetration, smut, no pronouns used for the reader, NO MINORS.

(A/n): hello again, miss me? I apologize for my absence and im happy to announce this long awaited part i turly hope you enjoy your time with my naughty boys~ hope it was worth the long wait! Ps. (I suggest you read the first part first)

Venti

The evening grew darker you didn't know if you should hide or just give up and hope he has Mercy. "Maybe he can only find me where the wind can reach…hmm where could I go without wind?" You talked your thoughts aloud as you walked around, enjoying the scenery of Monstadt. You came across a nice wooded area still feeling the soft Breeze, only getting more anxious by the moment.

You wander a while on the brink of giving up hope before coming across a cave, which seemed to be empty, only harboring a put out campfire. It was a perfect place to hide out for a while so you did. You walked in no breeze to be felt not even a draft.

The night began to brew and since you figured you would be there a while, you lit the fire and sat next to the controlled flames. So what if a Hilichurl was to wonder by, you escaped Barbados!…….so you thought at least.

In a flash of a second a cool gust of wind found its way inside extinguishing the flames.

" oh Windling~ you truly didn't think you could hide from me in my own Nation right? I had fun acting as if I couldn't find you ehe!" You jump just from the sound of his voice, it making your skin crawl.

Venti got into the cave with you without hesitation or invitation taking a bite from an apple he must have picked from a passing tree. "Me hiding?! Psshh noo i was just…Exploring! Yes that"

Venti busted out in laughter "I'm a god remember you cant lie to me windblume, more importantly I'm your boyfriend I would see before it left your tongue, speaking of your tongue I could think of a lot of places I want it to be right now" He flirted his eyes gazing you up and down.

"Venti!? Geez must you be such a pervert" You grumbled pulling his hat down over his face, soon feeling his slender hand grip your wrist. Venti pushed you down cradling the back of your head as he lays you back getting on top of you. " I've been looking forward to this my disciple, I almost immediately wanted to come running after you even before the rich wine reached to my lips" He pulled at the bow around his neck untying it letting his cape fall to the ground. He started at your face cupping it softly before his hands wandered, taking in the beauty of every inch of you. It wasn't long before he had you in nearly nothing at all, the way he looked, touched, made all your insecurities melt away. " Tell me Traveler do you think all of Monstadt could hear you if i make you loud enough?" he slipped off his shorts leaving the stockings, rubbing his rosy tip against your entrance.

You stared up at your bard, it was very clear you weren't speaking to him anymore no, you were talking to a god. "Venti maybe not here what if Adventures walk by or-" Your words were cut short, venti sinking himself inside with no remorse, an unexpected gasp escaping your lips. Your walls swallowed him whole, taking every inch of him as if your body was made for it. "Venti!" You moaned out only to be cut off once again by the bards chuckle.

" Oh windblume I don't want to hear that now call me by my name it sounds so beautiful coming from your lips" He leaned down whispering in your ear, the ends of his braids starting to glow against you. "Say it for me please my beloved" Venti begged, his breath against your neck sending chills down your spine. It was strange it was still your venti but his voice was different, serious, ethereal, too perfect for this world and the whole of tayvat. You felt your face burn with a blush as you turned your face away from the God of freedom "Barbados….my lord… BarbADOS!" It was as if something snapped inside Venti he wanted to defile his disciple. So he did, his hips struck you like lightning noises and moans filling the cave. Even as he was fucking into you Venti Whined in the orgasmic pleasure of your warmth. you couldn't tell which of you were louder.

"That's right, sing for me!" Venti relished in making such a mess out of you

"Mghh! W-Windblume… windblume.. ah! Y/N!!" With every word Venti's voice strained higher. He gripped the back of your thighs folding you to hit the most unholy spots inside you, it nearly made you melt into nothing. Your abdomen tenses reaching the highest point of climax before completely relishing in the finishing feeling. Venti wasn't close behind. He filled your every office before collapsing onto you panting with a huge grin on his face. He laid Apon your chest keeping his seed trapped inside you not daring to pull quite yet. " Now that is how you worship a God ehe"

Xiao

You ran to Liyue as you near the border from the neighboring nation, clearly excited to see your darling yaksha. Once you finally step foot you notice a dark figure, Xiao breathing heavily staring at the ground. This only causes you to hurry to worry filling your face. " Xiao? Is that you are you feeling oka-" Your words stop, in a blur Xiao tackling you in the grass. He stared down at you his fingers digging into the ground next to you. "xiao i-its okay now its me im here" you slowly removed his mask it disapping in your hands. " I'm ok...i didnt harm you did i?" Xiao put a hand against his head, making him shutter. "Y/n is it really you…. I'm not seeing things right…" He places the hand on your cheek feeling the warmth, his thumb pressing your lips, letting out a breath of full relief " i…i missed your visits and company" Before the golden eyed boy could continue you tugged him down by his necklace, pressing your lips against his, the kiss desperate, rough, feeling the shared breaths.

Xiao pulled back only when you both were breathless. " say my name" your lips parted "no my real name" His pleading eyes was enough to make you melt where you laid "Alatus" xiao couldn't hold back his blush, he trailed down your sides gripping the fabric before ripping it open finding you so beautiful exsposed under the moon. Xiao stared at you for reassurance with each touch before grabbing a hold of your wrist dragging your hand against his own chest his heart racing .

With a smile, your hands wandered down hooking a finger on his pants tugging them down honestly surprised at his mere girth, but Xiao didn't leave you much time to think before he folded you. He Threw your leg over his shoulder, dragging his tip against your awaiting hole. "Y/n Please stop me. If you don't stop me now I don't think I'll be able to"

Self-control was leaving his body as he spoke his golden eyes dilated and targeted on you. " I trust you Alatus-" As those words escaped your lips xiao rammed his cock inside. All at once you felt his teeth sinking into the of your shoulder trying to muffling himself. He was a rough lover not that he always meant to be but he couldn't control it, all he does for his life is fight for control so with you tends to accidentally let loose a little too much. His blows were merciless as he pounded into you under the night sky, grunting and panting with every move it all dissolving into pleasure.

"Alatus A..Alatus don't stop p-please don't stop" Xiao rutted inside you gritting his teeth as he came filling your needy hole.

His cock twitched from the over stimulation but not daring to stop. Whining and shuddering with every movement "wouldnt…Gh! Dream of it." He hunched over you not daring to stop his hips for a second, even with his seed pouring out of you from around him.

Xiao was so worked up he was even overstimulating himself refusing to let it end as he jerked and whined his length twitching like crazy inside of you. Beads of sweat dripped down his neck, fucking you so hard his hips slapped against your ass making the most obscene sounds even after you did finish, Xiao still couldn't persuade himself to stop. He needed it, he desperately wanted to fill every orifice of you and by the time he did stop he did fill up every bit of your sore little hole. That night he was especially attentive, carrying you to his room in the inn, wiping you down with a warm rag. He served you for the rest of the night, whatever you may ask he will provide. Xiao made sure to remind you, all you need do is say his name. Even the one that was Heaven to his ears as it escaped your lips.

Scaramoche

Scaramouche grabbed your hand leading you to an old abandoned inazuma house. The house was pretty well preserved, apart from the few leaks in the roof and the smell of dust. "we should rest here. I'll get a fire going" Scara removed his hat a little doll falling out, you stared at it then looked up him "what a cute doll! it looks like you, did you make it?" You ask curious, him clearly trying to brush it off as he picks it up. "It's just a stupid doll. Don't think much of it." He shoved it in his sleeve huffing turning away. "...hey kuni i would love to look after him for you, so he doesn't fall into the fire" He froze for a moment before grabbing the plush doll out of his sleeve placing it in your hands. "You wouldn't have liked me.." He said quietly looking at the doll in your palms.

What?"

"You wouldn't have liked kunikazushi, he was gentle, he dressed in silks and was naive to the world. Me and you both know you like when I'm rough with you" Scara looked up at you from his eyebrows, his head still tilted down.

" I think I would enjoy seeing your soft side, I would love if you showed me"you cupped his face his eyes softening.

"In your dreams." he said in a snarky tone, but with his height you picked him up with ease, setting him on the creaky but stable table. "ah! Hey what the hell do you think you're doing!?" Scaramouche struggled, clearly not used to being lifted off his feet.... by someone else "I want to see you every part of you kunikazushi please show me" you plead really making it hard for the puppet to refuse.

All at once he gripped your hair staring at you with a threatening glare. "y/n if you tell a single soul i swear no one ALIVE will believe you" He glared, you nodding in response.

Scaramouche relaxed becoming completely tender as he brought your hand to his cheek nuzzling against the palm " I love you and I never want you to abandon me even if you grow to hate me please stay by my side" Scaramouche looked away almost embarrassed of himself, all while you melt like putty in his hands. "Could i touch you more y/n? I want to ingrain every inch of you into my mind so I'll know that I met someone as perfect as you" Scara eyes trailed over every inch of you, slowly dragging his hands down to your neck and then shoulders soon replacing his soft cold hands with kisses. He admired your whole body as if it was complex art, all the way down to your toes leaving a soft kiss as a pure act of humble adoration.

He stood a hand clasping your top. " I want to explore more will you let me?" once you gave him the okay he lifted your shirt dragging his soft tongue against the bud of your nipple. He captured it in-between his lips, suckling on as he stared up at you innocently, you so focused on the stimulation you didn't notice the Wanderer seemed to have switched places with you, he sat you displayed on the table. It was clear Scaramouche was starting to get more worked up then he originally meant to. He layed you back his hips so desperate whines escaping his parted lips as he grinded himself against you, not even able to wait until he gets you fully unclothed.

Not like you were complaining, his tent causing enough friction to your sex to make you enjoy it, Hooking a leg around scara waist. Especially with the adorable noises he made causing you to unshamefully move your hips against it only getting more shutters and whines from him.

He gazed down inbeween, a blush filling his face watching you pleasure yourself on his hard on a wet spot soon growing on to his shorts.

"Aww kuni you got yourself dirty its a good thing you don't wear those silks any more" you pull his shorts down with one swift movement his length springing out still painfully hard leaking pathetic amounts of precum.

Scara's embarrassed face only worked you up by the second, you didn't know if he was suppressing it or if he's really good at acting, but his innocence unleashed something deep inside of you.

You guided his cock unable to wait a minute more, his hands covering his face peeking through his fingers as he watches his cock sink inside whining from the tightness that surrounds him making him hunch over the pleasure overwhelming the poor little puppet. "Mm oh kuni does it feel good?" You bit your lip clearly knowing the answer, watching his ears even start to turn red as he nods fast. Scara placed his hands on either side of you moving his hips at a comfortable pace. "i-is this okay y/n im not hurting you am i?" You shake your head in response to wrapped up in the feeling struggling to even keep your eyes from rolling back. Scaramouche continued both of your noises nearly drowning out by each other. He hid himself into your neck, causing him to bury himself into the silky walls with no remorse making sure you feel every inch of his member inside of your needy hole. a gasp escaped your lips unable to even scold him finding his embrace so soft and sweet, even if he's playing it off as a innocent moment with no Sinister ulterior motive.

Scaramouche's breasts were heavy against your neck he couldn't help but rut himself into you barely even letting himself pull out before pushing back, not wanting to leave your warmth for a second.

You were starting to get unbelievably close and you could tell by the way scara shuttered in your arms he wasn't too far behind. You couldn't help it you reached your Edge your abdomen tensing. " s-something's happening i don't think i can stop.. I can't hold on… please take all of it" with one loud yelp he released painting your insides with his cum so sensitive he's teary-eyed. Once you come down from the high you slowly wipe a tear that happened to make it to his cheek smiling like an idiot " you're so cute kunikazushi" As if on cue Scaramouche rolled his eyes burying his face in your chest "oh shut it." He grumbled as you tangle your hand into his hair. " welcome back scara"

2K notes · View notes

mykoreanlove · 5 months

Text

fighting with felix be like

“You’re being ridiculous, y/n.”

His words stung, adding onto the heavy pain you were already feeling. “Am I though? Your ex was with us right there tonight. Am I ridiculous for feeling jealous?” He halted abruptly and turned around. “That is what this is about? You were jealous because of my ex?”

Your eyes were glued to the floor. This was your first relationship, and you had no idea how to navigate tough situations like these. Felix’ gaze softened as he understood why you made his night a living hell.

He embraced you in his arms and kissed your forehead, whispering to you softly. “Sweetums, I had no idea you felt that way. I’m sorry. Please believe me that you have nothing to worry about. My ex is my ex for a reason. Okay?”

His loving eyes pierced through yours and you felt butterflies all over again. You felt stupid for acting like a bitch tonight. Shame flooded your system – you wanted to be a cool girl, not a pathetic one.

You thought about ways to make it up to him. As you fumbled with the zipper of his jeans you looked him deep in the eyes and mumbled your apology. “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

Your boyfriend’s eyes widened in surprise – up to now you hadn’t done something like this before.

Felix was more experienced than you were, he definitely wasn’t timid in bed. But he respected you and gave you all the time you needed. You loved the kissing, licking, groping, or fingering but everything else had been new territory for you.

“Sweetums, are you sure?”

You nodded, biting your lip in anticipation. He sat down on the couch after you slid off his dark jeans. His tight boxers were fighting to contain his dick, the bulge was too prominent to ignore.

You had no idea how to do this. Should you have watched some porn before? Shit.

Your fingers grazed his thighs, leaving him shivering in anticipation. Felix’ noticed you tensing up, so he took your face into his hand and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. “Don’t overthink it, baby. Just let it happen naturally.”

You freed his cock out of his boxers. “Damn”, you admired him. “Lixie, your dick is gorgeous.” He laughed out loud. “Thank you sweetums. My dick thinks you’re gorgeous, too.” Now you laughed. You got on your knees and braided your hair into a ponytail, ready for action.

“Well, let me introduce myself properly.”

You had been bopping your head on his dick for almost an hour, you couldn’t get enough. Felix was thick – filling you completely. You almost choked a couple times, but you didn’t care, taking him deep was so fulfilling. You felt dirty, like you were doing something wrong. Your tongue glided over his cock, veins popping out left and right. He was close so many times, twitching in your mouth relentlessly. His deep moans filled the whole room and you never felt prouder. “Sweetums, fuck. I’m about to faint, this feels so fucking good.”

You quickened your pace and sucked harder, covering him and yourself in spit. Felix groaned again and sat up straight, taking your ponytail in his hands, pulling tightly. “Look at me, baby. Look at me while you take me like a little slut.”

Oh, you felt your pussy twitch. Fuck, that was hot. Let me be your little slut, Lixie. I’d do anything for you. You held his gaze while you were sucking and massaging his balls.

His pupils dilated; he was loving this so much. You didn’t think it would be possible for him to get even harder, but it was. It was as if you were licking a rock. “Can I.. can I come in your pretty mouth?”

You squeezed his thighs. God yes, let me taste you. Felix understood and rocked his hips forward, his dick shooting right into the back of your throat, making your eyes water. “God, y/n, I…fuck!”

Felix cum tasted like nothing you had ever tasted before. A mixture of sweet and salty, just like he was. You sucked him dry, licking off every droplet of his salvation.

You had no idea if he was satisfied but you were proud of yourself. “Fuck, sweetums – what was that?” Felix smiled from ear to ear and pulled you to him on the couch. You were laying on his chest, very aware of his heavy breathing. “Was that.. okay?”

He looked at you amused. “Are you kidding? That was the best blowjob I ever got. I wasn’t kidding about fainting. That was intense!” He kissed you tenderly. “Thank you, y/n. I loved it.” You smiled back proudly. Felix hugged you even tighter now. “Did you really do that because of our fight?” You looked up at him, smiling shyly. “Yeah. I felt sorry for how I behaved and I.. I wanted to make it up to you.”

You played with his shirt, waiting for his reply. “Well, if that is the case then we should fight more often. Don’t you think?”

562 notes · View notes

stnexus · 4 months

Text

sip by sip…!

nanami kento x black!fem!reader

minors dni, 18+, nsfw

summary: drunk nanami is something else in bed, or maybe someone else.

cw: established relationship (married), minors dni, nsfw, smut, explicit language, nanami is drunk(previous consent), dom!nanami, sub!reader, oral (male + fem receiving), nanami and his filthy rambling, slight hints of dumbification, hints of ass eating, face fucking, fingering, light bondage, hints of spanking, bit of manhandling for reader, pet names (no use of y/n)

names used(?): doll, baby, good girl, slut, little slut

wc. 3.8k+

note: i took matters into my own hands. when i say i blacked out writing this. when i initially wrote it i was like okay let me hit the hay and go to sleep. woke up the next morning shocked at my own writing. hope you all enjoy! tags, reblogs and comments are always welcomed here!

the flat-screen television put in ample work lighting the almost completely dark living room. the array of colors as the scenes flashed across the screen, changing just how much light flowed through the darkness. light bouncing off any surface it could find as some thriller movie played; the volume turned a bit low, but the quietness of the area made up for it. the only other light source was a tall floor lamp, with warm lighting brightening up the room just a bit from its spot behind a dark brown armchair. the light turned the off-white-colored walls a bit yellow under its illumination.

the sound of sloshing liquid in a cup could be heard as nanami had been content sitting in the armchair. his body relaxed as he maneuvered himself into manspreading and he had been like that for a few hours. his patterned tie was loose around his neck, allowing him to unbutton the first three buttons of his blue shirt. he had left his dress shoes at the front door.

this was a normal occurrence for nanami, his days were usually filled with work he had to tend to at the office, so he would find solace in your shared quiet home at night. the stress of his job being washed down with a few glasses of rum and coke. though today had been particularly stressful, leaving him with more than a few glasses of alcohol in his possession.

as you sauntered through the living room for the third time that evening, nanami watched your movements as you passed in front of the television. watching as you entered the laundry room — view clear from his seat. he adjusts himself as he watches you bend forward to grab something from the front load dryer, sitting whatever it is on top of the dryer. a flurry of towels that you had washed and decided to fold later. his hand grasped at his crotch for just a moment as he adjusted his stiffening cock against his thigh as you bent down again to make sure you hadn’t missed anything. your braids moved with every move you made, accenting your pretty brown skin.

christ, he felt like a predator stalking its prey.

“kento…!” your voice called out as he took another swig from his nth cup of the brown liquor and soda mixture.

“yes, doll?” he asked as his hand, which once adjusted himself, glided to his belt. the cool brown leather contrasts with his warmed skin.

“do you have anything you need to wash tonight? i can just put them in the washer with the next load.”

it was like your words went in one ear and out the other. the way nanami had resorted to watching how your shirt clung to your bra-less form from behind — and how your shorts seemed to ride up a bit with every moment — was predatory.

“nanami.” your voice was quick and laced with a bit of confusion, as you still had yet to turn around. your hands are busy folding the towels before you.

“no, baby. but i need a little help. why don’t you come here for a second, huh?” his voice sounded deeper than usual. his words a bit slower as your motions slowed. you had already known he was drinking; when he had gotten home, he laid a kiss on your forehead as he grabbed his needs from the kitchen. but as he called out for you, a surge of heat seemed to run through your veins.

turning towards him, you were met with almost the silhouette of him. it was dark, and the way he sat in the shadows of the living room was downright domineering. you watched as he moved to take yet another sip of the alcohol of his choice, drinking it down smoothly.

crossing your arms, which would prove to be an aid to him noticing your lack of bra even more, you began your short walk towards him. a few of the special-walnut stained wood floors creaking as you walked over them. nanami’s face becomes clearer with each step towards him.

he seemed as stoic as he usually is, but you knew that it was a facade. with the way his cheeks seemed to don a bit of a pink blush from his drinking, his usual uniformed blonde hair was a bit messy as he had begun to be heated by the alcohol. no doubt, his fingers had run through his hair a few times.

“what’s wrong, ken?” you questioned, out of sheer curiosity, that maybe there was something he needed help with. silly you, silly you.

“just needed a kiss, s’all.” nanami’s words slurred a bit towards the end as his brown eyes dropped to your glossed lips. not missing as you smacked them together in feigned annoyance. a small forced-off smile threatened to tug at the edges of your pretty lips.

“you made me walk all the way in here, thinking you needed help, for a kiss.” you chided with a joking tone. but the joke was done once nanami’s set his glass on a table next to the armchair. hands reached out to pull you closer by the hem of your pink shorts. his posture correcting as he directs you to stand between his legs.

“you goin’ to give me what i want?” nanami questioned you as he tilted his head towards you a bit. a pleased smirk gently graced his lips as he watched you comply, bending towards him. your lips press into his as he allows his hands to glide over the back of your thighs, grabbing just below your butt. rum and coke were evident as his tongue slipped into your mouth. a taste that you would usually grimace at, but when he was added to the mixture it was bearable.

“there, you happy now?” you spoke softly as you both pulled away — a short gasp left your mouth as he grabbed at you right where his hands were placed under your butt, pulling you over to straddle him.

“i am now,” nanami confirmed as he plucked the glass from the table, taking another sip from it. his brown eyes caught a glimpse of your face as you grimaced in reaction.

“i don’t see how you drink that,” you confessed. “the taste just makes me want to gag my brains out.”

it was like your words were an open invitation to imagination-land. a thought of your lips wrapped around his cock flashed through his brain as all he did was hum in response to your words. the thought of you gagging as you attempted to take him fully, your tongue resting against the base of his cock.

“you know, sweetheart, there is something else that could make me happy…” nanami confessed in his drunken stupor. a simple tilt of your head, directing him to go on, “why don’t you be a good girl and show me how you can use that pretty mouth?”

the words that were brought to the forefront of his brain spilled out with no barrier. that’s how you were sure the alcohol had been a direct influence. nanami never spoke with such intensity; he was usually a sweet and almost bashful lover. a certain level of roughness broke out of his grasp whenever he was intoxicated — a roughness that always had your stomach tightening. his question pushed an almost airy laugh from your lips.

removing yourself from his lap, you sank down to your knees in front of him. watching as he sat his glass down on the table next to the armchair once again. your hands glided softly over his tan-colored slacks, his thighs wide under the palm of your hands. with your fingers reaching the brown leather belt that secured his pants, you begin to fumble with the buckle. your acrylic-adorned hands not helping you one bit.

“help me,” you whined a bit, only to watch him reach for his belt with one hand. undoing the buckle in record time, then unbuttoning and pushing the zipper to his pants down fully. the cloth of his black briefs visible as he pushed his pants right below his bulge. “thank you, baby,” you almost purred.

you laid a gentle kiss on his clothed cock, your hands still planted on his thighs as he let out a grunt.

“don’t play around,” nanami spoke sternly, his eyes holding a subtle hint of meanness. with an innocent laugh, you pulled the waistband of his briefs back, allowing his length to spring free — hitting against one of your cheeks in the process. grabbing at his cock as you pressed a kiss onto the leaky tip. with a huff, nanami’s hand wrapped around your wrist, making you let go of him as he wrapped his fist around his length instead, taking joy in the little look of shock you held as he tapped his leaky tip against your lips. dribbles of precum glossing your lips.

“stick that tongue out,” he demanded, to which you happily listened. allowing him a view of the pretty pink muscle, to which he tapped his cock along just as he had done to your lips. pausing before raising his hips slightly to push his length into your mouth. your lips wrapped around him like a reflex — a hum leaving as you breathe out through your nostrils.

“shit— shit, such a good girl.” nanami groaned as you pushed yourself further, your nose brushing against his happy trail. pulling off his tie, he formed a makeshift ponytail holder for you as he tied it gently around your braids. taking note of your freshly done hair, he had no idea where to place his hands — remembering you had once stated it hurt to have new braids tugged on. his hand grabbed at his bunched up shirt for just a moment until you reached up towards him, directing him to rest his palms on the sides of your head. allowing him to move you however he liked.

“mouth’s so fuckin’ good, could cum down your throat. ‘s that what you want? want me to pump that throat full?” a sound of approval emitted from you as his cock dragged back and forth between your lips. surely your simple pool of heat in your lower stomach had converted into a wet spot in the panties tucked below your shorts.

nanami almost felt bad for a second; he was essentially face fucking his pretty wife. your voice would surely take a bit of a toll. but all qualms seemed to wash away as you moaned around him, your fingers digging into his clothed thighs as his hips picked up pace as his end neared.

it wasn’t long before nanami pushed your head down completely, and your nose pressed up against him once again as your eyes met his own. watery eyes trained on him, with your lashes clumping together a bit. the most mouth-watering moans falling from his lips as your spit collected at his base, the tip of his cock pressed down your throat and allowed ropes of his cum to fill you.

“take it. take it all, doll.” he almost whimpered as his hips stilled momentarily. traces of cum escaping from your lips. drawing his hips back, nanami began to stiffen again at the state of your pretty face. he slipped his cock out from between your lips, letting you take in a deep inhale as your lungs searched for the air that you had been unable to provide them. nanami took notice of your lips being even more plump. they were covered in your spit and his cum.

with no hesitation, he bent down towards you, pressing his lips into yours as a sort of show of appreciation. his tongue pushing into your mouth as he tasted himself on you. helping you stand to your feet, he stood as he fixed his clothing lazily, leaving them undone. guiding you to the bedroom as he walked you through the house.

pushing you onto the king-sized mattress, his hand slid under your shirt. grasping and pinching at your perked nipples. his tongue sloppy against your own as you begin to moan into his mouth.

“kento…” you gasped as he pulled his lips away from yours. “please touch me.”

“don’t rush me,” he gritted, unlike the compliance he had gotten from you. helping you pull your shirt off, he pushed off his shirt completely too. a white undershirt he wore under his blue shirt being removed in the process too. ushering you further up the bed, nanami watched as your tits bounced, leaning forward to take heated sucks at your pert nipples. then maneuvering himself, laying on his stomach between your thighs. brushing his fingertips against the smooth brown skin of your inner thighs. stopping at just the hem of your shorts.

placing a kiss over the thin material, he reached up to pull both your shorts and panties away from you simultaneously. throwing them somewhere in the room.

“pretty pussy’s fucking soaked,” nanami said as he brushed a knuckle through your wetness. then split your folds apart with his thumbs.

“ken, stop staring,” you whined in your embarrassed state as you clenched around nothing. with no arguments, you could feel his tongue run through your folds, staring from your leaky little hole to your clit. the way he had you spread allowed him to reach everything as he drew a light whimper from your lips. sitting up on your forearms, one of your hands jutted out to grab at his blond tufts. fingers weaved through the strands as he began lapping at you. your soaked cunt drooling over him as he pulled his thumbs away, grabbing at the back of your knees to push them towards your chest. pushing you back flat on your back in the process.

with his eyes closed as if he were blissed out, his tongue glided back and forth through the puffy lips of your cunt. grunting at how you taste.

“so fucking good, ‘could eat this pussy forever. wake up thinking about having this cunt in my face. all day— fuck, all day.” his words were much more expressive, much more filthy. it was rare that his words were used to describe his thoughts during intimate hours. they were usually used up on just relaying praises and asking about you the way you felt.

letting one of his arms work as a sort of spreader bar behind your knees, he freed up one of his hands. slowly pushing two of his thick fingers into you. take his last long sloppy lick at your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit as his fingers moved at a quickened pace.

“kento, f—fuck,” you cursed out for the first time tonight. feeling his fingertips hit at that spongy spot within your inner walls.

“watch your mouth,” kento demanded as his actions continued. but it was like his words were ignored when you swore again, feeling his thumb rubbing against your clit. landing one last lick through your folds, he pulled his fingers out, taking in the sight of your cream coating them as he reached towards you. letting your legs go, nanami rested his thick fingers against your lips, your own cum smearing against them.

“taste yourself, doll.” his voice deepened as he spoke, peering up as your mouth tugged open. allowing him to push his fingers against your tongue so you could lap at his fingers. “just like that, i love when my good girl listens.”

“why’d you stop?” your words rang through the air as a pout played at the edges of your lips. nanami only granted you a look as he pushed himself off the bed. grabbing you by your ankles to pull you towards the end of the mattress, the comforter below you getting dragged in the process. standing tall, nanami tugged his belt from the loops of his pants.

“turn around, hands behind your back, ass up.” he ordered as the metal parts of the belt buckle clinked together in his hands. dropping his pants and briefs towards the floor as he stepped out of them. doing as you were told, you clasped your fingers together behind your back — head placed on the bedding and your dark brown nipples perked up even more. your ass on full display as you moved into an arch.

hearing nanami move behind you, you let out a gasp as you felt the cool leather of his brown belt begin to wrap around your wrists, securing your hands behind your back. sinking to his knees behind you, his tongue pushed between the puffy lips of your cunt once more as he seeked out your clit, spreading you with his thumbs once more as he took harsh sucks at the vulnerable little bundle of nerves. listening as your whimpering reverberates around the bedroom as he withdraws one of his hands only to push two fingers inside you again.

his fist wrapped around his cock as a mantra of his name fell from your lips. like you were singing to him and only him. variations of ken, kento, or unfinished calls of his name circling the air. his fist moved up and down around his length as drips of precum formed at his tip, his nose sometimes brushing through your wetness as he basked in your scent.

“so fucking wet, ‘leaving a wet spot on the sheets. so damn messy.” he grunted, watching as a pretty string of arousal and his spit clung to you and dripped downward onto the bed. nanami felt animalistic as his finger pushed in knuckles deep and played at your inner walls. feeling you stretch around his fingers made his usual steady mind race. he pulled back from lapping at you, planting a kiss on one of your asscheeks as he pushed them apart with his after removing his fist from his cock. his tongue jutting out to lick at your asshole. tongue prodding at the tight ring of muscles as his filthy actions sent you spiraling.

“kento, c—can i cum?” you stuttered out, moans becoming muffled as the bedding around you seemed to cup the lower half of your face. moving his hand to tug the sheets down and out of your way, nanami almost cooed at the way your mouth hung open.

“of course you can, doll. you don’t have to ask.” that was like an invitation to clench around his fingers, your moans surrounding you both as nanami moved his hand from your ass, simultaneously stroking himself as he pleased you. tongue in your ass, fingers pounding into you. “come on, give me what i want.”

the heat that surged through your body as you reached your peak was devastating. a dragged-out whine of his name marking the beginning of what could easily be your demise. pulling his fingers from you, nanami switched which hand tugged at himself, smearing your cum around his cock as he used his other hand to land a smack on your ass.

standing as you caught your breath, he pumped himself a few more times. he took in your current image. your back arched, a slight sheen of sweat decorating your skin, your cunt and ass glistening with your own cum and his saliva. his tie still pulling your hair into one ponytail, though it began to slip down due to movement. he spoke slowly and low.

“could cum just from looking at you like this.”

“no, i want you, kento,” you almost fussed in a rushed out huff.

“i know you do, baby. i’ll give you what you want.” he confirmed this as he tapped his tip against your entrance, pushing into your cunt. he almost fell apart as he felt you pulling him in. his drunkenness became obvious to him, as he felt a bit dizzy. your ass bouncing off his pelvis as he set a bruising pace.

“i shouldn’t be fucking you like this.” he tried to ration with himself as he felt you tighten around him. your moans are messy and sweet. his drunken mind egging him on to pound into you. “you’re such a good girl. fuck, fuck— and i’m fucking you like a slut. i’m so sorry, doll.”

“ ‘s okay kento, ‘s okay…feels so good…” your voice sounded broken. your sounds become hoarse and whiny. looping his arm under your restrained arms, nanami pulled you back to his chest — the only thing stopping him from pulling you closer being your hands. his free hand wraps around your waist, pressing into your stomach. making matters much worse for you.

you had cum when he first pushed into you, and lost track of how many times he had you creaming around him. your orgasms had hurdled into a blurred mess. you weren’t sure you had ever stopped cumming, and you for sure knew he didn’t mind it. not with the way you were damn near milking him.

“you like being fucked like a little slut?” he almost choked out, his mouth pressed next to your ear. his voice made you delirious, so delirious that you almost felt like the drunk one. “i mean, shit, you're soaking me, doll. maybe i should take you like this more. hm?”

“yeah…yeah…” you agreed, nodding your head dumbly. nanami was sure he was fucking you silly as he planted a kiss on the side of your face. letting you fall back to your original position, you felt your stomach tighten even more as you slurred out a confession, “ken, ‘m gonna cum againnn—”

his name started to sound like a plea on your tongue. the way you began to chant it as your walls clenched down around him was beyond beautiful to him. your words morphed into a silent fucked out scream as your mouth hung open. feeling you attempt to pull his cum from him in the process of your crash, he tried to ignore it. fucking you through your final orgasm. pulling out just in time, he stroked his cock once more. allowing his seed to spill over your ass — a bit dripping lower to cover your cunt.

“there you go, baby. you did so good for me.” nanami praised you as he tugged at the belt around your wrists, letting your hands fall free as he dropped the belt onto the bed. then he worked to remove the tie from your braids. a drunken hiccup fell from his lips as he moved you further onto the bed, trying to make you comfortable before getting into bed with you.

“kento, we have to shower,” you said tiredly, still a little dazed from your numerous orgasms.

“we will, but i need you to calm down first.” he spoke as he laid your head on his bare chest. knowing you were mentally floating at the current moment. “stay with me right here for a bit. then we’ll do whatever you want.”

#✧ read along #nanami kento #nanami kento x black reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami x black!reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk nanami #nanami x fem!reader #fem reader #nanami smut #nanami x reader smut #smut #jjk smut #nanami jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #kento nanami

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Injured III

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: Now there is Mami and Olga

After Jenni and after Mami's injury, there's Olga.

She didn't used to be around as often as she is now. You would see her once every few months but now it felt like she was in Barcelona all the time.

You sit in front of Mami one morning as she does your hair.

She seems a little nervous and you try to turn to look at her but she keeps reminding you that she's still doing your hair so you just look forward.

"Do you like Olga?" She asks.

You think for a moment. "Olga's cool," Is what you eventually settle on.

Mami ties off your braid and turns you so you can sit on her knee. "Would you like Olga to stay around a bit more?" She asks.

"Like in our house?"

"Yes, in our house."

"Will she play with me?" You ask.

"If you ask nicely."

"Okay."

Olga moves in properly within the week. She brings with her new decorations to hang on the walls and, most importantly, a lion toy to add to your collection.

There's something in the air that you don't quite understand nearly a year into living with Olga. You don't understand it at all until one day Tia Alba is hanging out with you all and Mami brings out the album with all of your baby photos.

Olga's got a weird look on her face as she traces over the picture of Mami in the hospital bed with the baby version of you bundled up on her chest. She reaches out a finger to trace over it.

"Feeling broody?" Tia Alba teases and Olga's face goes all red like it sometimes does when her face is shown on the big screen at Mami's games.

"There's nothing wrong with that," She says, looking from Mami to you," A baby would be nice."

You freeze suddenly, stopping playing with your toys. "Baby?" You echo," Like baby Mateo?"

Mami laughs. "You can't keep calling Mateo 'baby Mateo'," She scolds lightly," He's not a baby anymore."

"Younger than me," You reply in a huff," So's a baby."

"Well," Tia Alba says," You're younger than me. Does that make you a baby?"

That stumps you for a moment and you think about it for a little while. "Maybe," You say," Mami says I'm her only baby."

"Maybe not for long," Tia Alba teases and you freeze again.

You whip your head wildly between her and Mami. "Why? I'm Mami's baby! I am! I am!"

"You are," Mami says. You know she's trying to calm you down because she's got you sitting on her knee again and she only does that when she thinks you're going to cry. "But don't you want a little brother or sister to play with?"

Everyone's looking at you and that feeling in the air is thick again. Olga, in particular, is staring very hard at you, biting at her lip like she might start celebrating or crying at whatever your answer is.

"Like you had Tia Alba?"

Mami smiles. "Exactly like Tia Alba."

"No, thank you."

Olga's face falls and even Tia Alba looks away. Mami frowns at you, manoeuvring your body so you're fully facing her.

"Why don't you want a little brother or sister?" She asks.

You shrug. "Have to share my stuff," You say," Don't like sharing."

A hint of a smile appears on her face and her finger swipes at your cheek. "Just your stuff?"

You huff, blowing out all your air noisily because sometimes Tia Alba does that when she's been caught out. You fist Mami's shirt. "My Mami," You say," Not anyone else's. Mine."

"I can still be your Mami if Olga and I have another baby."

"But what if you like Olga's baby more than me?" You whole face scrunches up in disdain. "Because it's Olga's baby."

"Do you think your Abuela prefers me over Tia Alba? Or Tia Alba over me?"

"That's different."

"Why is it different?"

"Because your Abuelo and Abuela's babies. I'm your baby. And Olga's baby will be her baby. It's different."

Mami sighs and pulls you tight against her. "That's right, you are my baby. But Olga's baby will be my baby too just like that baby will be your little brother and sister."

"No," You insist," Because they'll be Olga's stomach baby and I was your stomach baby and you had to choose a daddy so you could have me so Olga will have to choose a daddy to have her baby too."

Olga's never really heard you rationalise how you were born before. Alexia probably didn't want to bore you with all the long, complicated details.

She moves from her spot next to Alexia to kneel down in front of you and take your hands in hers.

"It doesn't matter if this one is my stomach baby and your Alexia's," She says," And we can choose the same daddy as you so you and your little sibling can look alike. Would you like that?"

You think for a moment before nodding, looking a little teary. "And-And you'll love me and the baby the same?"

"Of course we will. Two special little babies for us," Olga says, still holding your hand as Alexia holds you from behind.

"You can be my favourite!" Alba says from across the room and Alexia groans.

"Not helping, Alba!"

It still takes you a few weeks to get used to the idea of Olga with a baby and Mami takes you both away for a little trip to a beach house for the week she has off from playing.

You know what it means as soon as Mami puts you to bed the first night and she slips a little box into the dresser in your room when she thinks that you're sleeping.

You'd gone to the jewellery store with Mami to pick it out a few months ago and forgot about it until you saw her put it in your dresser.

It takes a few more days of being there to be alone with Mami (Olga goes to the town to get you all ice cream), where she sits you on her lap and explains to you it would make her really, really happy if you helped her out with something.

By the time Olga comes back and puts the tubs of ice cream in the freezer so they won't melt, you're dressed up nicely in one of your special white dresses that Mami only lets you wear on special occasions.

"Where's Ale?" Olga asks when she spots you alone, kneeling down in front of you and whipping her head around like she expects someone to jump out and take you.

You don't answer her. Instead, you grasp her hand tight in yours and begin to pull her to the backdoor, which borders on the beach. At first, she tries to resist but when she notices you're getting a bit frustrated with her, she lets you pull her along.

You stop as soon as you get through the door. "You need to close your eyes," You tell her," It's very important."

You can tell she's a little amused by you but still on edge because Mami's nowhere to be seen. You have to badger her for a bit to get her to do what you say but, eventually, she relents.

You guide Olga down the beach to where Mami's waiting. She's got flower petals scattered on the ground in a heart shape and you think that she's lucky it's not windy today otherwise all of the petals would be in the sea.

You make sure Olga stands facing Mami before you release her hand to stand by Mami's legs.

Instantly, she's panicked. "y/n," She says, raising her voice slightly," Don't wander off."

"You can open your eyes now," Is what you say in reply.

Her eyes search for you quickly before her mouth falls open at the sight of Mami and her silly petals.

"Olga," Mami says, dropping to one knee and opening the little ring box," You want a baby and a future with me and y/n. We want that with you too. So...please, marry me?"

Olga looks like she's going to cry and she drops to her knees too, one hand reaching to cradle Mami's face while the other pulls you closer to them.

"What do you think?" She asks you," Will you let me marry your Mami?"

You shrug. "You want to have Mami's new baby," You say to her," You should want to be her wife too."

Olga gives you a wet kind of laugh before turning back to Mami. "Yes, Ale. I'll marry you."

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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chvnnie · 6 months

Note

No cause now I'm thinking about dad Chan who loves his two little girls so much but is sooooo excited when he finds out they're finally having a boy 🫠

sigh. i fucking love dad chan sm.

His girls are his world. For years he’s worn the Girl Dad hat (metaphorically and literally, it’s his favorite cap to wear) proudly. From painting nails to braiding hair, tea parties to makeovers, there’s nothing he would ever want more in his life.

In his opinion, Chan has the best life. Two perfect girls, a wonderful partner, a job that fulfills him. It doesn’t get better than this.

Head on your lap, his eyes flutter shut as your fingers work through his curls. Softly massaging them after a long day of work and recitals and dance practice. He’s leaning into his comfort, head turning just a bit to the side to kiss your swelling belly.

“I wonder what she’ll be like.” He mumbles against your skin. “There’s such a gap between her and her sisters.”

You laugh softly. “Chan, we don’t know if it’s a girl or not.”

His eyes open, widely blinking at you. Really, he never considered the possibility of a boy. Girl Dad. That’s what his title has always been. “Right, but it probably will be.”

You shrug, hands softly moving down to cup his cheeks. “Maybe. But I have a different feeling than I did with the girls.”

That makes him sit up, head almost a little dizzy. The idea of having a son — it isn’t a bad feeling. He’s watch Changbin with his twins, Jeongin with his baby. They love their boys more than anything. Chan has always wondered what it feels like. Having more than just girls.

But then there’s Jisung, who is so obsessed with his daughter that he hardly leaves the house without her strapped to his chest. And Minho, who has literally threatened to kill all of them if they even so much as think of giving her a snack that wasn’t approved by him.

And Felix, who decided two kids was plenty. Who has his girl with freckles that mirror his own and his boy with a smile that’s brighter than the sun.

What’s it like, to have both?

“A boy.” Chan mumbles, mostly to himself. Hands spreading across your belly, tracing the stretch marks gently. You need lotion before bed. He’s got to be sure he remembers that. “How do you think the girls would feel?”

You grab your husband’s hands, squeezing them tight. Worries always fade at your touch.

“I think they’d love him more than we could ever understand.”

///

You always look so uncomfortable during an ultrasound. Head rolled against the exam table, eyes shut and face furrowed as the doctor squeezes the cool gel on your stomach. Without looking, your hand finds Chan’s. Squeezing it tightly.

“What have we decided?” The doctor makes light conversation, her hands working the gel across the lower part of your belly. “Do we want to know?”

This is when you look at Chan, blinking softly. You do. You don’t want to be surprised. He was the one who couldn’t decide, convinced the new baby was going to be a girl.

Girl Dad. Like he’s always been.

“Yeah.” The conversation from a few days ago is in the front of his mind. “Yeah, we want to know.”

Chan brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly.

It’s quiet as the doctor works, the sound of the heartbeat filling the tiny room. She hums to herself, a smile spreading when she finds the tiny baby. “Looks like they’re doing alright. Developing nicely.”

Relief washes over you, shoulders relaxing on the uncomfortable table. “That’s good.”

“What are you wanting?” The doctor asks, curiously looking at the two of you.

You answer quickly. “It doesn’t matter, really. But I’d like a boy.”

She nods before looking at your husband. “And you, dad?”

Girl Dad. What he always has been, and probably always will be.

Right?

“I—“ He looks down at you. You, who always seems to have a love filled gaze when you look at him. You, the best mother for his children that he could ever ask for. You, who makes the idea of not being exclusively a Girl Dad not so intimidating. “I’m not sure.”

His ears are ringing. Skin feels tight. The longer the doctor takes, the more nervous he’s getting. Chan doesn’t think it’s a bad nervous. A nervous that makes him want to throw up, or cry, or scream.

A nervous that fills his heart. A nervous that is welcomed.

“Congratulations.” The doctor turns the screen, letting you both take a peek. “Your first boy.”

It’s a boy.

A boy.

Chan’s eyes widen, steadily filling with tears. Bottom lip trembling. On the screen is a little bitty bean, floating around in your stomach. A tiny little bean, who isn’t the girl he was expecting. The girl he was waiting on.

God, his heart feels like it could explode it’s beating so fast. “A boy?” It comes out as a horse whisper.

You look up at Chan, tears already falling down tour face. “A boy.”

He loves his girls. They’re his world, his everything. Nothing could ever compare to the unwavering, earth shattering love he feels for them.

And now. Now he has this boy, who stops time. Who he knows nothing about, but is dying to see what he’s like. His son, his little tiny, perfect son.

A boy. He sinks to his knees next to you, lips quickly finding yours. Wet cheeks pressed against each other, emotions intertwined. The love that’s in this room is overwhelming, thick.

Everything.

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #dad chan #dad skz #chvnnie dad!skz

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madaqueue · 7 days

Text

4.20

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

themes/content: roommate geto. language, smut. smoking weed, high sex, pet names (angel, baby), praise, light nipple sucking, kissing, sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.4k

a/n: blah blah drugs are bad whatever anyways geto would absolutely smoke irl

You swing open the door to your apartment with a huff, throwing your bag down in the entryway and kicking your shoes across the hall.

“Bad day?” asks the familiar airy voice from across the room.

A sarcastic chuckle leaves your lips as you take your hair out of the tight bun you wear for work, shaking your head as it falls. “You don’t even know,” you respond, eyes traveling across the room to see the source of the question, your roommate Suguru, on the couch in your shared living room.

He sits with his legs spread, only adorned with grey sweatpants, his bare chest softly illuminated by the evening sun streaming in through the nearby window. Reaching his hand out, he grabs the bong perched on the coffee table, holding it up to you.

“Then you better get your ass over here, because I’ve been waiting all day for you to get home,” he teases.

He’s always known just what you need after a shitty day, a way to drown out the agitation your coworkers seem to never-endingly bring upon you. Running into your room, you quickly change into pajamas, desperate to remove the stuffy business casual outfit that always feels out of place on your body.

Now much more comfortable you return to the living room, slouching down next to him on the couch. “You didn’t have to wait,” you hum, reaching a hand out to grab the lighter, desperate for the mental respite of melting into that familiar high.

“‘Course I did,” he purrs, “no one else around to play with my hair the way you do, angel.”

Trying to ignore the butterflies building in your chest from the nickname, you flick the lighter on in your hand as you steady yourself above the glass piece. Igniting the carefully pre-packed bud, courtesy of Geto, the embers spread as you inhale the smoke. It burns slightly as it fills your lungs, holding for a moment before you exhale, the familiar sweet taste lingering in your mouth before passing it to Suguru.

Before you know it, the constant static of noise in your mind quiets.

The sounds of whatever cartoon he picked out echoes through your apartment as he situates himself between your legs on the couch, his back leaning against your chest as your palms comb through his dark hair.

This little routine between the two of you had become your favorite part of the week, an inexplicable relaxation washing over you as you sit in silence and forget your worries for a moment.

Your fingers absentmindedly braid and unbraid his locks, the sensation sending shivers through his body. For both of you this was practically a form of self-care, a way to treat yourselves for the stress you endure.

Shifting his weight slightly, he reaches an arm out to the table to grab the bong, holding it towards you so you can take another hit. Leaning forward, you rest your chin on his shoulder as he lights the bowl for you, smoke filling it as you inhale, the glass cool against the heat of your lips.

He repeats the action for himself, and something about the way his eyes barely close as he breathes in, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, makes him look so soft.

Everything in your body feels light, warm. Lazily tracing your eyes over his body, he looks just as warm; something in you wants to touch him, feel him.

Sliding your arms below his, you place your hands on his thighs, taking in the fuzzy texture below your palms as you continue watching him. He exhales, turning his head slightly to look over his shoulder at you.

“What’re you doin’ there?” he breathes, curiosity lacing his voice.

The way his skin seems to glow draws you in, placing your lips against his neck as you continue tracing your fingertips along his legs.

“Soft,” you murmur into him.

An airy chuckle escapes his lips as he leans into your touch. His hands find their way to the bare skin of your legs beneath your shorts, his thumbs beginning to draw small circles along your inner thighs.

Suddenly, it feels like you’re vibrating, your entire body pulsing with each beat of your heart. Scanning for the source of the new sensation, you notice the heat between your legs, cunt throbbing in pace. Suguru’s hands move slightly higher, only intensifying the desire building within you.

Of course you had thought about fucking him, it would be insane if you hadn’t, especially given the way he walked around in only a towel after showering, hair dripping as he strolled through the kitchen, or how he’d come up behind you and press his chest against your back when you struggled to reach something from one of the taller shelves, or when he would stroke your hair gently after a long day as you rested your head in his lap.

But at the end of the day, you both knew you couldn’t - you couldn’t risk jeopardizing your living situation (or, more importantly, your friendship).

Maybe it was the weed clouding your thoughts, or maybe it was the months of shoving down your feelings for him, but right now, you can’t bring yourself to care: you need him.

Your hands move up his legs to the waistband of his sweatpants as you paw at the fabric, mouth never separating from the crook of his neck as you begin to suck lightly on it.

He takes in a soft gasp at the sensation. “Careful, angel,” he hums. He wouldn’t admit it, but your touch is absolutely addicting, the softness of your fingertips tingling every inch of his body. Deep down, he knows that if you start, he may not be able to stop.

Yet, rather than heeding his warning, his words ignite something in you, something that needs more. You slide one hand under his waistband, but as soon as you nearly make contact with his cock through his boxers, he moves.

Before you can even realize what’s happening, he’s turned around so he’s on top of you, one knee between your legs as the other cages you into the couch. Loose strands of hair fall over his face as his dark eyes meet your glazed-over ones.

“S-Sugu?” you stutter as you try to focus your gaze on him.

Everything feels cloudy, far away. The only sensation tethering you to reality you is him, his leg beginning to press against your clothed cunt through the flowy shorts covering your lower half. A soft moan vibrates inside you as your eyes slam shut, your hips bucking up, aching for any source of friction.

His chest rises and falls, struggling to take in enough air as he looks down at you, your eyes closed as you rut against him, the sight making his breath hitch.

“God, you look so perfect like this,” he mutters, your motions never slowing.

Your teeth sink into your lower lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pleasure threatening to leave your throat.

Suguru smiles above you, laughing to himself. “That feel good, baby?”

Eyes still closed, you nod, humming a soft, “Mhm,” in confirmation as you struggle to form words, the mixture of your high and your hedonism intensifying as you find a pace pathetically rubbing against his thigh.

Your hands reach up to him, grabbing onto his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself as you approach your release. Right as you feel the tightness in your stomach, he pulls his leg away from you, a desperate whine leaving your lips.

“Not yet, angel,” he purrs, “it’ll feel better if you cum on my cock. You want that?”

Your teary eyes flutter open and meet his, pupils blown wide in lust as you weakly nod.

He leans over you, lips nearly touching your ear. “I know you’ve got some words floating around in that pretty little head of yours,” he whispers, “use them.”

Using all of your energy, you manage to choke out a broken “Yes.”

“Good girl,” he whispers against your skin, his words making your cunt throb. His fingers trace down your body until he’s thumbing the waistband of your shorts. “Why don’t you take these off, pretty,” he softly commands.

He leans back, allowing you to remove your clothes and toss them across the room as he sits up, back resting against the couch and legs spread apart. He pats the thigh you had just been grinding against, and you crawl to your place in his lap.

Straddling his waist, his eyes lazily trace over your body, now only covered in your tight tank top and soaked-through panties. One of his hands moves to your hip as the other pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his cock that nearly hits his abdomen from how hard he is.

Your eyes are drawn downward as your mouth opens in awe of his size, reaching down and gently stroking up his length. He sucks in a sharp breath as your thumb traces over his slit, dragging the precum that had been pooling over his flushed tip.

So focused on the way his cock twitches in your palm you barely register his fingers ghosting between your legs, pushing your panties to the side as he glides up your slick folds.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmurs as you continue absentmindedly stroking him.

Without realizing it, your hips begin circling against his hand, his palm roughly rubbing against your clit as you whine. “More, Sugu, please,” you beg, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

He chuckles lightly at your soft desperation. “Okay, angel,” he hums, mind hazy with his own desire for you.

He gently grasps your wrist to move your hand away from his base and replaces it with his own, using the hand on your hip to guide you above him, aligning his tip with your entrance.

Slowly sinking down on him, your eyes flutter shut as waves of ecstasy course through your body. Your head falls forward as you lean against his shoulder, the sensation of being stretched by him making your vision go white.

When he finally bottoms out in you, your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, eliciting a soft “fuck,” from the man as your eyes threaten to roll back.

“Y’take me so well, angel,” he purrs, “such a good girl f’me,” his words slurring in lust.

Eyes still closed as you lean against him, you begin to rock your hips forward, your motions slow and imprecise. As you find your rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you as you circle your waist, his hands trace up under your shirt, his touch like electricity sending shockwaves through your body.

His palms reach your breasts, his fingertips setting your nerves on fire as he kneads the soft mounds. Pleasure builds in your core as you lean your head back through a moan, mouth hanging open as you arch towards him. Leaning forward he places wet kisses down your neck before lifting your shirt above his wrists, sticking his tongue out and circling your hardened nipple before placing it in his mouth.

“F-fuck, Suguru,” you whine as your hands move to his hair. As he feels your fingertips brushing along his scalp, tingles run down his back and he shivers against your body.

Pulling away from your chest he moves his palm behind your head, tilting you down to look at him. Your eyes are unfocused, a lopsided grin across your cheeks as your eyes roam his face. He looks equally dazed, a lazy smirk decorating his features.

“Wanted you so bad,” he hums, “been thinkin’ about this for so long.” He looks up at you with a fuzzy adoration in his tired eyes, the smile on your face spreading as you blush at his words.

Everything about the moment is unhurried, calm, as you lean forward and kiss him. Your lips meet messily, mouths parting as your tongues glide together.

Your hips continue grinding against him mindlessly and he starts to thrust up in pace with your motions, his cock hitting deeper and deeper into you.

You moan into him, the only sound you can make as your thoughts cloud with bliss. Tension tugs at your core as you feel yourself approaching the edge of your release.

Your shared apartment is filled with the sounds of skin against skin, the lewd wet sounds of his cock bullying into you, your whimpers and moans echoing off the walls. Both of you are otherwise silent, lost in the moment, unable to formulate coherent thoughts other than the ecstasy you share.

“M’gonna cum, angel,” he finally whispers into you. “Finish with me?”

All you can muster is a nod, mouth loosely agape, waiting for his tongue to slot back against yours.

As soon as he does, his lips warm and moist, he thrusts harder into you, purely following a carnal need living deep within the core of his body, his muscles acting on their own.

Pushing his pelvis higher, his tip prods against the sweet spot inside you that has you completely losing yourself, the tightness inside you snapping as you come undone.

Your pussy flutters around his length, pushing him to his own release as he pumps thick, hot ropes of cum that coat your insides.

His hips slow as he imprecisely fucks himself into you, prolonging your high.

When you finally return to reality, he pulls his lips away from yours, a trail of saliva momentarily connecting you as your eyes flutter open to meet his.

“Y’look so pretty,” he coos, taking in your sweet fucked-out face: pupils blown wide, eyes glassed over, lips parted as drool pools in the corners of your lazy smile.

Resting his hand along your jaw, he brings his thumb over to wipe the spot from your mouth, rubbing it over your lower lip. Without thinking you stick your tongue out, taking his thumb into the warmth of your mouth as you suck it, eyes nearly rolling back inadvertently as his cock twitches inside you from the sight.

Moving his hand away, he instead pulls you into another messy kiss, feeling the heat of your skin against his.

Finally sliding yourself off him, you both giggle in bliss as you clean yourselves up, returning every once in a while to take another rip of the bong.

You fall asleep cuddled next to him on the couch, playing with his hair, more relaxed than you’ve ever felt before.

178 notes · View notes

asumofwords · 8 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash - EPILOGUE

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Mentions of grief, war, blood, loss.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, Cregan Stark X Reader

Note: Whelp... Here we are.... This is it. This is the end. The end of Smoke, Fire and Ash. We are ending with this Epilogue in a five year time jump. And oh boy.... I can't believe it. I really hope that you enjoy how I finish this era lmao, with over 370k words.... someone needs to take my computer away from me. Again, I can't even begin to express my love and gratitude to you all, I just hope that you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it! <3 So as always.... ENJOY!

EPILOGUE : His Song of Ice and Fire

Time jump: 5 years into the future.

There was a chill that had come early to Kings Landing that season, all those years ago. A chill that had swept across the stones of the Keep, cool air creeping into your bones through your gown.

But now, as you stood where you had many moons ago, there was no crisp breeze that sent goosebumps rising on your arms, nor was there a bite to it that came as a subtle and precursory warning for what was to come.

The courtyard of the Godswood was warmed by streams of glowing sunlight that blanketed over the cobblestones and grass.

A soft breeze rolled through as you walked forward towards the tree, having missed being in its presence over the years passed, mostly spent on Dragonstone.

It had been five years since your mother was seated upon the Iron Throne. Five years since you had been named her successor. Five years since Lords, Ladies and Heads of Houses pledged themselves to you and the Queen.

Five years since the death of Aegon and all those responsible for the usurpation.

Since you commanded dracarys and watched as Alicent was devoured by flames. Since Larys laid on the flagstones, blood seeping from his stomach.

Five years since your father had gone to Storms End and slayed Borros Baratheon for his play in it.

Five years since Baela and Rhaena flew to Oldtown and rounded up all the Hightower's who had shown support for Otto and his kin.

And five years since his death.

Five years ago, in these very walls of the Red Keep, you had plunged a dagger into your husbands neck. Your uncles neck. Your childhood companion. The man you had loved.

And not one day that had gone by did you not think of it. Did you not dream of it. Did you not see him in the corners of your eyes, or in the shadows of your chambers on Dragonstone.

Did you not see the blood that stained your hands when you would wake, or witness with bouts of anxiety.

In your hand, the old and worn cover of your favourite book, ‘Ten Thousand Ships'. A novel in which you had read under these very branches of the Godswood. On the grass your mother had sat with you, or your brothers, or your uncles and aunt.

You watched as a small head of silver raced ahead of you, shoulder length hair billowing behind him, with two tidy braids holding the sides behind his head.

“Careful, Lucerys.” You called out gently, watching as your son climbed atop the roots and settled right into your favourite spot. His black and red robes crinkling as he leant back against the root of the Weirwood tree.

The smile on your face stretched widely as you moved to sit beside him, the small boy crawling into your lap as you brushed his hair back behind his ears. Little hands reached out to play with the necklace at your neck.

Aemond’s sapphire.

Ever since Lucerys was born, he had always longed to touch or hold it, violet eyes always finding it with ease against your neck, fingers outstretched to play with it or caress it. He tapped it up and down upon his finger as he looked at it with content.

There was so much of Aemond in him, it was hard for all not to see. It was especially true with his eyes. Eyes that you had loved since you were a child, reflected on your own sons face.

His were, much like Aemond's, a way to read him almost immediately, showing so much emotion and character in them as he thought, or played, or argued. Long silver lashes blinked up at you, and you could not help the tug of your heart as you bent your head to kiss his forehead.

The young boy scrunched his nose at you in mock disgust before grabbing the book from your hand to hold it open in his lap, finding the page that you had been up to not just the day before.

The bridge of his nose was dusted with light freckles, and there was such a boyish charm to his rosy cheeks, whenever he smiled his teeth would show, bar the one he had recently just lost.

Little Lucerys was as Aemond had been as a young boy. Inquisitive, soft spoken, kind and daring. He had a longing for knowledge, and sought it out whenever he could in Dragonstone's library or by picking your brain with a continuous stream of questions and consciousness.

But then there was so much of you in him too. His nose, his sure fire temper when things did not go his way, and his utter refusal to back down, even when it brought him to tears.

You read to your son beneath the tree as you reminisced on your days before. On how you had sought solace beneath the branches many times. How your mother had read to you here. How your brothers and Helaena would sometimes join you or play. And how Aemond would sit behind the trunk and listen to you read aloud, your voice carrying enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to let him know that you knew he was there.

And as you read, you felt his presence, there on the other side of the Godswood, where he would sit as a boy, listening as you read to his son. Watching as he always did. There as he always was.

Always and forever more, would the ghost of Aemond haunt you.

You read louder, just so you could be confident that Aemond could hear, just as you had when you were young, even though you knew he was not truly there. But it felt right. It felt the way it should have been. What could have been.

Familiar.

That is where your mother found you, nestled where she used to, reading a book she had once read to you to your son, and loud as though you wished for your voice to carry to some unknown spectator.

You felt the eyes of the Queen and lifted your head, pausing your reading if only for a moment, and Lucerys, being as perceptive as he was, looked up and spotted his Grandmother, leaping from your lap all elbows and knees and ran towards her.

The Queen opened her arms widely as she chuckled, bending down slightly to catch the young boy who launched himself into her arms, crown unmoving from the top of her head.

“Grandmother Nyra!” He had cried as she lifted him into the air, sitting him atop her hip as you dusted your skirts down and made your way over.

“It feels right to see you there. I can remember how eager you used to be.” She smiled, turning her head to look at the boy in her arms, “Did you know your mother had me read to her there too?”

The boy nodded his head, silver hair bouncing atop his shoulders, “Uh huh. And father too!”

Rhaenyra’s smile softened as she looked at the boy and back to you, “She did. Your father loved her reading.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you leaned in to kiss your mothers cheeks, son still in her arms as he played with the crown at her head.

“Are you ready for this evenings feast?” Rhaenyra asked, swaying the boy gently as she pressed another kiss to the top of his head, once, twice, three times, exaggerating the noise as she sucked air through her pursed lips.

“Of course,” You adjusted the necklace at your throat in nervous habit, “We flew all this way for this evening, didn’t we?”

“Vermithor is grumpy, Grandmother. But he lets me on his back!”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth and raised her brows, “Does he? Why, you must be the youngest rider ever!”

Lucerys beamed.

“Muña has been taking me to see Vhagar! She flies with us sometimes.” Mother.

The smile on Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, if only for a moment, before she regained her composure.

“Does she now? Vhagar must know that you’re your fathers son.”

Little Luc nodded his head, “I’m going to claim her. Muña said I shouldn’t because she is too old and grumpy and dangerous, but I know father wants me too.”

You cleared your throat, “That’s enough of that. Grandsire will have a new clutch soon, and you will have your own egg.”

“But I-“

“-Hush, my sweet.”

Turning back to you, Queen Rhaenyra lowered the boy back on to the ground, letting him run circles around the courtyard as you spoke, “Is he still having dreams?”

You bit your lip anxiously, before nodding, “He knows things he shouldn’t. He is much like Helaena in that respect.”

Your mother gave you a reassuring smile, “A gift from the Gods no doubt. A most precious one.”

You nodded in agreement, but in some ways you didn’t agree at all.

Was it really a gift if it aided in driving Helaena to madness?

Rhaenyra held one of your hands, brushing her thumb up and over your knuckles soothingly. You didn’t dare look down, knowing that they would be bloodied, “There will be allies from all the realm tonight. I cannot believe little Rhaegar is to have his first name day already.”

Rhaegar was a small boy of silver hair and tanned skin, one violet eye, and one brown. The third son of Jacaerys and Baela, with yet another on the way. Baela had told you in secret that she wished for a girl this time around, but had been surprised when the small boy had been born.

None were more surprised however, than when he had opened his eyes to peer up at your brother, besotted by his son already, staring down at the violet and brown eyes that looked back up at him.

Aelor, the eldest, was but a few moons older than your Lucerys, and the two got on more fiercely than even you and Aemond possessed. It was a beautiful bond the two boys had, full of love and loyalty.

The middle child of Jacaerys and Baela was a sweet and quiet boy named Rhaelor. He had the most beautiful of curls like his mother, who braided it closely to his scalp with clips of gold and silver dangling from each.

"I cannot believe it either.” You agreed, casting a quick glance at your son, “They grow so quickly.”

Rhaenyra took your other hand in hers and squeezed them, “You grew the fastest of all. You shot up far before your brothers. I feel like I blinked and then there you were, a woman grown.”

Chuckling, you squeezed her hand back, “Will Rhaena be joining us this evening?”

Rhaenyra turned to lead you away from the Godswood, Lucerys running up beside you to hold your other hand, “Rhaena sent word that she senses the babe to be with us any day now. It is too far to travel from the Vale to Kings Landing in her condition, but has told us we must all be ready to come see the babe once it is born.”

Rhaena, upon the death of Lucerys, had refused to wed for years. She had stayed loyal and adamant that she would not be betrothed to another, but then she had met Ser Corwyn Corbray, a knight of House Corbray one evening at a feast.

They had immediately connected, an older man with flowing black hair and deep brown eyes that almost looked black. Corwyn was a kind man, if not fierce and skilled as a swordsman, wielding an ancestral longsword of Valyrian steel named Lady Forlorn.

“A shame that I will not see my half-sister again, but I’m delighted to hear the babe should be born any day now. We shall be having many name day celebrations close together.” You smiled.

As you left the cobblestones of the courtyard, you turned your head back to gaze upon the ruby red leaves of the tree. They shimmered in the light of the sun and rustled softly with the breeze.

And there, sat beneath its branches, was Aemond.

His head was leant back against its trunk as he watched you, sapphire missing from the empty socket of his lost eye.

He had not left you.

He did not speak as Helaena and Lucerys had. Not in full sentences anyway. Not anything but the familiar name of endearment that he had called you.

Zaldrītsos.

It was whispered to you in the dead of night, or in the darkest of rooms when your hair would stand on end. Or at times, whispered to you when you were with Lucerys.

It was never malicious.

Or at least, thats what you liked to tell yourself. Though it never felt like he was there with bad intentions. It felt neutral. And you liked to tell yourself that he was there to watch and keep you safe. To keep you company. That a piece of your mind had made him up so that he could live a life with you, and watch your son grow.

There would always be a part of Aemond with you no matter where you went. Whether in your son, or in your visions, or upon your neck and scarred skin.

Your heart ached at the thought.

Rhaenyra walked you back to your chambers, entering as your four maids bowed and began to get preparations in order to ready you for the feast. The chamber doors opened as they left, held open as the tall and built body of your father entered.

“Grandsire!” Lucerys screeched, and you winced as the sound sent fear racing down you spine.

Your heart jolted, the echoes of screaming in your ears as you plastered a smile on your face, eyes twitching, watching as Daemon lifted him high into the air, throwing him up once and catching him to hold him tight against his chest.

Loud noises sometimes did that to you. Threw you back to your time in the Keep before your parents had arrived. Sparking fear into your very core, to the point where sometimes you could not breathe, as though your brain stopped functioning and you were gasping for air, clawing at your throat.

In those moments, Aemond would whisper to you.

It had been especially hard when Lucerys was first born. His cries would wake you and send you into a fit panic, racing to grab the dagger beside your bed as you would check the chamber for danger, wide eyed.

It took several months to learn to live with it, with his presence there, and you would be lying if you didn't say that looking down at Lucerys in his crib as a babe made you feel a guilt that you could not fight away with common sense. A melancholy that ate away at you viciously.

You had fallen into a state of depression, and in your confusion you had sent a letter to your mother and father via raven asking for star fruit. Your mind was so confused, so lost. You barely slept, or ate, and were in a perpetual state of fear.

Daemon came at once, and ended up spending almost an entire year on Dragonstone with you to help, before he finally convinced you to come back to Kings Landing with him so that your mother could help too.

It was months of screaming through the night, months of support, months of pacing your chambers, wondering if it was all worth it. Wondering if it was worth living, worth staying another day in such Hell.

The same thoughts had replayed in your mind over and over.

My son will hate me for what I have done.

I took his father from him.

He will never love me.

He will resent me for my sins.

The thought of climbing out the window as Helaena had done became an almost daily occurrence. And it was hard. Hard to not give in to it.

But you couldn't do it. Cowardice be damned, you could not leave you son alone. You would not abandon him. You would not do it.

So after months of the turmoil that chipped away at you day by day, you told them the truth of it, the whole truth of it, and by that time, after voicing such things aloud, little by little, you felt a bit more of yourself.

Lucerys had had his second name day when you were ready to go back to Dragonstone.

“Se skorkydoso iksis ñuha byka Dārilaros?” And how is my little Prince? Daemon grinned, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek as your son wriggled in his arms.

“Merbugon!” Hungry!

Daemon plastered mock shock upon his face, something that he would do often to you as a child, "Arlī? Yn ao sepār iprattan.” Again? But you just ate.

“Kesan ipradagon ao!” I’ll eat you! Lucerys growled, fake biting at his Grandsire’s arm.

The young boys High Valyrian was good, but nowhere near perfect.

Daemon and Rhaenyra spent ample time teaching him, as did his uncles Jacaerys and Joffrey when you'd come to visit, or them you. His other uncles, Little Viserys and Aegon the Younger were not too many years older, similar to the age gap you and your uncles had had. They often played with him and Aelor.

Daemon dropped the boy onto the floor, messing his hair with a rough hand before pushing him away to go play with his toys, Saria and Aella sitting with him on the floor. Your fathers lavender eyes landed on you and he smirked.

“Tala.” Daughter, He greeted you, voice almost playful, “Do you look forward to tonights feast?” He pried, mischief twinkling in his eyes.

“I look forward to spending time with all of you, of course.”

“Kostilus kessa ao ūndegon iā arlie valzȳrys.” Perhaps will you see a new husband, He smirked.

Rolling your eyes, you sighed, “Kepa.” Father, “Kostilus, daor bisa arlī." Please, not this again.

It was a conversation that had begun to come up more often than not. You knew the reasoning behind it. You were heir. And you would be expected to wed again, and soon. But all the Lords in Kings Landing you had met had not once sparked any sort of interest for you. And Rhaenyra had vowed to let you marry whom you wanted, when you wanted.

She had kept true to her word thus far.

Rhaenyra sighed, tilting her head up at her husband as she looked at him in exacerbation, “Henujagon zirȳla sagon.” Leave her be.

Daemon held his palms up in surrender, looking over you before he brushed your cheek with his knuckle quickly, “Ao jurnegon gevie hae va moriot. Hae aōha muña.” You look beautiful as always. Like your mother.

You smirked, “Don’t try and get in my good graces now.”

Rhaenyra grabbed Daemons hand, “We shall leave you to get ready, and see you at the feast.”

You watched as they left your chambers, Rhaenyra whispering to Daemon in your mother tongue.

You were readied by your maids, the two who had been in service for you for many years, and the two who had been your saving grace in the Keep for all those long and trying months. The four sworn to you, and almost never leaving your sight.

They dressed you in a style you were more familiar with, a style you had worn prior to the war. Tight bodice with dripping cleavage, short sleeves and dragons embroidered all over. Your hair was left in waves down your back, with braids nestled amongst them. Against your neck, the same necklace as you wore everyday.

Lucerys joined the feast for a time, eating with the other young children, Maelor and little Jaehaera included, before they were taken back to their chambers by maids.

The ale flowed heavily in the Hall, and all wore smiles on their faces, the frowns and wrinkles caused by the tension of war having been smoothed from their skin.

You sat beside your mother, Jacaerys and Baela to your other side.

Baela was glowing, stomach round with the new child and cheeks rosy from smiling. Jacaerys cheeks were rosy from ale, but parenthood suited him all the same. He had matured, that much was obvious, but his love and devotion to his family and wife had only gotten stronger.

“Little Aelor is growing so quickly.” You smiled, bringing your wine to your lips to sip as you felt nothing but joy to be where you were. To be where you always should had been. The room aglow with your mothers supporters and love. All around you joyous and bright.

“Little Aelor,” Baela leant towards you, “Is a little shit. Not once did I ever behave such a way. He bit Rhaelor this morning because he wouldn’t play with him.”

Jacaerys chuckled and Baela elbowed him in the arm.

“It's all Jacaerys, I’m afraid. He used to bite me too.” You grinned.

“I did not! Not once did I bite you.”

"You did too. I have scars to prove it. Even ask the Septa, she's the one who tore you from me like a rabid dog.”

Jacaerys turned to his wife for support, who only bit her lip to try and hide the smile that broke on her cheeks, “My sister condemns me with these lies. Do you hear her?”

Baela smirked, sipping her wine, “I believe her. You were terribly wild. I seem to recall you have bitten me on more than one occasion.”

Jacaerys blushed, tongue in cheek as he looked at his wife.

You made a teasing face of disgust, "Incorrigible, the both of you."

All three of you watched on as Lords and Ladies danced in the middle of the Hall, loud music bouncing off of the walls by the band that played in the corner, and all laughed and clapped with joy as they watched.

“It is good to be home.” Jacaerys grinned, watching the celebrations, “Driftmark, though close, feels miles away.”

“You’re both always welcome to visit me and Lucerys at Dragonstone again, perhaps a longer stay? I am sure he would love to have you and the boys more often.”

Jacaerys nodded, “We will come promptly then. If the heir beckons, we shall come.” He teased.

“You have been summoned then." You put on your most pious voice you could manage, bursting into laughter at the ridiculousness of it all.

As your eyes looked into the sea of people, a familiar face came into view.

Jacaerys and Baela, also noticing, turned to face you.

“You know,” Jacaerys began, leaning towards you, “He only comes to these things for you.” He whispered, watching the way a soft blush creeped on your cheeks.

“He comes for you, brother. You are friends after all.” You breathed, feeling your heart race in your throat as the man got closer.

“Kessa, yn ziry umbagon syt ao.” Yes, but he stays for you, Baela snickered.

“You are both as bad as each other.” You griped, finishing the rest of your wine quickly, hoping to distract yourself by pouring another.

As you reached for the goblet, the tall figure of Cregan Stark stood before you at the table, donned in brown and black leather robes, his long dark hair tied back away from his face, and stubble casting a shadow across his defined cheeks and chin.

His stormy grey eyes bored into yours, and the soft and yet polite smile of Cregan Stark greeted you.

“My Lady.” He bowed his head politely, “Jacaerys. Lady Baela.”

“Cregan.” They nodded.

Jacaerys and Baela turned their heads away, conversing with themselves in an attempt to give you mock privacy.

Though you knew they were listening.

“Cregan Stark. You have journeyed far for such an occasion.” You gazed up at him, watching as his eyes flicked downwards and then back to you.

“Of course, My Lady. It is not every day my good friend’s son has his first name day.”

“You could not have missed it, I would have never forgiven you.” Jacaerys chimed in, cheeky smirk on his lips.

Cregan chuckled, deep and heartily, “You’d burn me alive if I did not come. I think those were your words that you sent via raven.”

“Good memory, Stark.”

You smiled, loving the banter the two men had, “But to travel all the way from the North, it must be a tiresome journey, is it not?”

Cregan’s broad chest expanded as he pulled his shoulders back, hands held behind him, “Aye, a tiresome journey if on the backs of horses, and not dragons. Though I am gladdened to know I shall be well rested before my return. His Grace has offered for me to stay at the Red Keep for the month.”

You turned your head towards your father, who’s eyes were already on you, smirk on his face. Your gaze told him you would have a word with him later.

A stern word.

Turning back to Cregan you gave him a smile, "That is wonderful news that you will be here with us in Kings Landing for longer than expected. I had not imagined you to be here at all.”

“Apologies if my arrival has offended you, My lady.” Cregan jested, and you felt a blush creep across your chest.

“Please, Cregan, enough with the formalities. You may call me Y/n. I think we are well acquainted enough by now.”

Cregan smiled, showing a line of white teeth, “Y/n.” He tested the name on his tongue, as though it was the first time he had spoken it.

He stood for what felt like an eternity as you looked at him, neither of you sure of how to continue this conversation.

Jacaerys, being the meddlesome man that he was, decided that his false conversation about the weather with his wife had ended with perfect timing, looking up at his old friend with a shit eating grin.

“My sister here has been approached by many men this evening, all who call her the Beauty of the Realm. Do you find my sister to be beautiful?” He smirked.

Cregan blanched, but answered almost immediately after, “Aye. It would only be a fool who could not see it.”

You blushed, drinking half of your wine in one gulp.

“Then will you continue to do her the dishonour of not asking her to dance?” Jacaerys blinked at his friend from atop the rim of his cup, hiding his grin behind the silver.

Cregan looked as though he was ready to chastise the Prince, perhaps even hit him, but instead turned to you, bowing his head, “Might I ask for a dance, Your Grace?”

You looked at the tall man before you, dark hair that curled lightly in waves, with eyes as stormy as winter.

“If only you call me by my name, Lord Cregan.” You pushed from your seat, turning to give your brother and half-sister a furious glare that the Stark could not see as you turned away from the table, moving towards Cregan who waited diligently for you, hand held out, palm up.

Cregan was much taller than Aemond had been, broader, and when your hand slid into his, you felt your chest come alight. A rush that you had not felt in a long, long time. A sense of butterflies that fluttered about behind your ribs like a makeshift cage.

Cregan led you down to the sea of people, feeling the eyes of your family upon your back. When finally amongst the crowd you turned to face each other, dancing with the rest as your hands intermittently connected.

“I must apologise, Your Grace-”

“-Y/n.” You corrected him.

“Y/n.” He smiled, “It is not often that I dance in the North. I fear I may be a terrible partner.”

“You are yet to step on my toes. I think you are doing perfectly well, if not a little clunky.” You smirked at the tall man, watching as he looked away bashfully.

“There is still time for that I suppose.”

Each brush of his hands atop your body caused warmth to spread through you, tiny little tendrils winding their way up your flesh wherever his skin would make contact with yours. Your hands, arms, shoulders, waist. It was almost overwhelming, and the only time you had ever felt it before, was many years ago.

Five years ago, to be exact.

“Ao jurnegon gevie.” You look beautiful.

Your legs got tangled with themselves as you came to a halt, looking up at the grey eyed man who looked down at you wistfully.

“What did you say?” You breathed, uncertain if you had heard him right, or if it was your mind playing tricks upon you.

“I said you looked beautiful.” Cregan’s eyes roamed your face, brows beginning to furrow, “I apologise, Your-“

“-No.” You shook your head, “Ao ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie?” You speak High Valyrian?

A warm chuckle erupted from his chest, “No, My Lady. Just that and some other small things. Your brother has been a great teacher thus far.”

You tilted your head, trying to get your feet to unstick from the floor, blurs of people moving around you, but in that moment it felt as though they had all disappeared, and you were left alone with the man before you.

“He is a good teacher because I have taught him.”

“Then perhaps I must ask of you to teach me instead.” Cregan gazed at you hopefully.

You hummed, “Do you have need to learn it? I did not think the North had any speakers of my mother tongue.”

Cregan opened his arm towards the side, weaving you through the crowd to the edge of the table, grasping a goblet of ale and procuring a goblet of wine for yourself.

You sipped on the wine, eyed widening.

Dornish wine.

Of all the wine on the table from this realm, to the Redwyne's vineyards, from Essos, to Dorne. Cregan had given you the one wine you liked the most.

How did he...

“We do not." He replied, "The North has no need for tongues of fire, our breath is ice.”

“Indeed. I am not too fond of the cold, I am afraid.” You teased.

Cregan’s large hand moved to swipe at his chin with a thumb, stumble rubbing beneath it in thought as he looked at you, “And have you been to the North? It is far more than just ice. Winterfell has a garden that may rival the one in the Red Keep.”

The spiced Dornish wine was sharp on your tongue, “So I have heard. I have not had the Gods graces to witness it for myself. I have however, been gifted a Winter Rose.”

Dark brows pulled together as the Stark looked at you in confusion. Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, the earthy smell of oakmoss, ginger and pine surrounding you.

Oakmoss, ginger, pine.

Not at all, smoke, leather, and sandalwood.

It was earthy, warm despite his origins, and gentle. Like a breath of fresh air. Like a scent of safety and calm.

“Winter Roses do not grow in Kings Landing. How were you gifted one?”

You swallowed, looking away momentarily.

The energy around you shifted.

“My husband- late husband, had a knack for gifting me rare things in atonement for his temper.” The words came out sharp, crinkled on the edges, and tasted of iron.

Cregan nodded solemnly, “I am sorry for your loss.”

You blinked.

Not once, had a man or woman or any person who you had spoken to over the past five years, ever said they were sorry for Aemond. Not once had anyone offered condolences, except the silent stares of your family. In fact, most times, people congratulated you for your bravery, your strength, your ability to drive that dagger into his throat.

People congratulated you for killing the man you loved.

But not him.

Not Cregan.

And it intrigued you.

You finished the last of your wine, “I have not had the chance to thank you for supporting my mother after all these years.” You began, taking a glance to look up at her, as she gazed lovingly at your father in small conversation.

“Thank me not. A Stark never forgets their oath, and we made one to your mother.”

A smile wound its way on your lips, “And how cold does it get in the North, Lord Stark? How does one not freeze in the walls of Winterfell?”

Another warm chuckle floated from his chest, “There is much to be frozen in the North, but Winterfell was built atop hot springs. Brandon the Builder built it amongst giants. The hot water flows through the walls to keep us warm.”

“I thought I had read as much in a book once.” You smirked, feeling warm from the wine, “But I had never imagined such a thing to be true. Giants?” A cheeky laugh fell through your lips.

Cregan smirked down at you, goblet close to his mouth. It wasn’t a smirk that set you ablaze, nor did it create anger or contempt or suspicion. It wasn't a smirk to provoke you. Instead, it made warmth spread steadily through you, like the hot springs in Winterfell.

“Aye,” He laughed, “What is hard to believe about giants? Your blood rides upon dragons, do you not?”

“I suppose you are right. I do ride upon a dragon, a large one to be sure. I wonder if it would marvel at the size of your giants.”

“We shall never know. Perhaps you might ride upon the great beasts back to Winterfell?”

Your heart began to beat quickly in your chest, fingers tapping on the side of your cup, “My great beast would swallow you whole for calling him such a thing.” Jest on the tip of your tongue.

“It would be an honour to be devoured by a dragon.” Cregan shamelessly flirted.

Devoured.

I want to devour you, zaldrītsos.

You swallowed thickly, “And what would Lady Stark think of three dragons coming to Winterfell? My son has not seen snow or ice, I have little question if he would enjoy it.”

Cregan placed his ale upon the table, “There is no Lady Stark, unless you are referring to my Lady Mother. Winterfell would welcome you and your son with open arms, and furs to warm you.”

You felt heat in your cheeks, “Why would I need furs if Winterfell is as perfectly insulated by hot springs, as you say it is?”

Cregan Stark pushed his tongue into the side of his cheek as you gazed up at him, quick witted response ready to be fired back instantly.

“For all its warmth, there can be a biting chill that occasionally drifts through the cracks. Or if you are to be outside, say in the Godswood, you would need furs.”

“You have a Godswood?” Interest peaked.

“Aye. The Old Gods have not been replaced by the New in the North.”

“Good, I should hope so. The New Gods are an abomination in the eyes of the Old.” You paused, watching as grey eyes flitted down to your lips, if only for a moment, “And what of Dragonstone. Have the Kings of the North ventured as far?”

Cregan huffed a laugh through his nose, “No, I can say we have not.”

“Then perhaps you should see the great Dragonstone Keep. Its walls are the last of Old Valyrian stonemasonry. Fire and magic created it. Dragons live in the Dragonmont, and I am sure they would welcome the Wolf of Winterfell with open arms, and there would be no need for furs to warm you.”

“The Dragonmont sounds like the perfect place to be eaten by the dragons that live there. I may ask to be pardoned from venturing inside, a bite from a dragon would surely be the end of me.” Cregan’s eyebrows were raised, goblet to his lips again, smile peeking over the top.

There was something about this man. Something that drew you to him. Something that made you feel safe, wanted, unafraid. Like an invisible string was pulling you to him from the centre of your chest, the need to be closer to him, the want to be closer to him amplifying with each second spent in his presence.

In all your five years past, you had not wished to be in the presence of any man again, said for acquaintances and family.

But Cregan?

It was different.

It was the same pull you had felt in the throne room when he had sworn himself to you.

And that was why the next words that left your lips were playful, light, alluring. You wanted to draw him in. You wanted to taste him. You wanted to get to know the man who had helped to change the tide. The man who had stayed loyal to his oath. And a man who had travelled across the realm, just to kneel before you and swear his House to you, despite him not needing to do so.

“I will only bite if you ask me nicely.” You purred.

A blush crept across the mans face, and you felt your heart soar.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his posture, his eyes half lidded, “I will come to Dragonstone when you beckon. But I fear a wolfs bite may rival that of a dragons.”

Grinning you tilted your head, looking up to the table, to find all eyes on you both again, a large smirk on Jacaerys’ lips.

“I do not like to make commands, but I shall beckon you. If,” Your hand came to graze his arm gently, sliding down, before your finger traced along his that held the goblet of ale, “You show me these hot springs in Winterfell, and that you have furs for me and my son to be kept warm. I make no illusion to thinking there would be furs enough for Vermithor.”

Cregan’s finger twitched beneath yours as you dropped your hand back to your sides, sliding them together behind your back.

He bowed his head, “Of course, Your Grace. But there may not need to be a use of furs to keep you warm. Your blood is of fire, and I have a strange inclination that you would wish to be warmed in another manner.” Your cheeks grew hot, warmth sliding down to settle in your gut.

Cregan wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, “I will await your invitation, Princess.”

You smirked, “And I, yours. Though, you are to be here until the next turn of the moon. I am sure we will see each other more often than not in these walls.”

“I should hope that I would have the privilege of your company whenever you would wish for mine.”

“That you will, and that I do.”

With a nod of your head, you turned, walking back up to your table, spring in your step, and heart pounding against your ribs. You could feel the warmth of Cregan’s gaze on your back with each step you took to the table. Jacaerys, Daemon and Baela all watching you with knowing eyes as you moved to sit back down once again, cheeks ablaze.

You ignored them all, reaching to grasp your goblet and sipping the wine as your eyes instinctually found the pair of icy grey ones that watched you from across the room. He lifted his goblet to his own mouth, mimicking your action as you sipped in tandem.

The sound of laughter and chattering surrounded you, and it was hard to not get yourself lost in the excitement of it all.

How things had changed.

Jaehaera and Maelor, Helaena’s children, had been taken in by your mother immediately, and at first, had been terrified, and quiet, and reserved. But now they had now grown into beautiful, soft and sweet children who doted on their nephews with care and familial excitement.

Jaehaera was so much her mother, and often was woken in the night by terrors of her twin being slain before her eyes. But as time went on, the nightmares lessoned with age, but her visions grew stronger.

There was no denying that the little girl had the same gift as her mother, the same brilliance, the same intuition. And your Lucerys and Jaehaera often understood each other on level that others didn’t, an almost instant connection sparking between the two, and you watched as Jaehaera doted on your son with fierce devotion and loyalty.

Maelor, was very much like Aegon.

Loud, boisterous, terribly cheeky at times, but kind. Something that he was allowed to grow into with the nurturing of your family, the nurturing of your mother. Something that he would continue to be. Maelor was a whisper of what could have been for Aegon, if he had not been raised with the vile whisperings of the Hightower’s in his ear since birth.

He had the same round face as his father, the same round face that Alicent had. But there was no sadness in his lavender eyes, no hollowness that settled behind them. And for that, you were most thankful.

They both especially got along with Lucerys, and that gave you a greater joy like no other, and often stayed with the two of you on Dragonstone.

If you were to say that you had gotten used to being surrounded by so many people, you would be lying. But there was no doubt in your mind, that as the years went by, you would eventually find yourself again, or at least the fragments of her that had survived.

You had changed.

But so had they.

And there were some things that would never change.

Some things that would always stick.

And the visions of your brother, your aunt, and your uncle, would remain forever more.

Or at least, you hoped they would.

As a reminder.

As a punishment for your deeds.

As a comfort.

Whilst the Lords and Ladies in the court danced, and drank, and sang, and cheered, three familiar faces watched from within the crowd, unmoving, unblinking as they were.

Observing, watching, with two smiling softly.

The third face however, had not smiled in years, and would never smile again. He watched you, from across the room, hidden behind dancing bodies, long silver hair cascading down his back, an eye of violet, and a shadowed socket peering up at you.

He never left.

He was always there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Your hand came to play with the sapphire that sat heavily against your chest.

“What did you and Cregan speak about?” Jacaerys inquired, leaning towards you, breaking you from your stare at a man you missed most terribly.

“Hm?” You turned your head blinking at your brother.

“Cregan, what did he say?”

Baela leant an elbow on the table as she watched, a hand rubbing her swollen stomach in soft, gentle circles, soothing the babe inside.

“Merely asked how I have been, how I have been faring. Pleasantries is all.”

Jacaerys’ brown eyes danced with delight, “Pleasantries? Spoke of pleasures did you? You know, I wouldn’t let him speak to you if he was not a good man. He is a Stark. Dutiful, full of honour, kind, and a skilled swordsman.”

“And I have a dragon. Swordsmanship does little against fire.”

Baela snickered, “And why would he be near dragon flame? Have you promised him a ride upon Vermithor?”

A blush settled across your cheeks, “He wouldn’t.” You argued, feeling exacerbated by their prying, “I was just saying, swordsmanship does not warrant a marriage.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Jacaerys smirked, and you felt your mouth go dry.

You gripped your goblet and tossed the rest of its contents greedily down your throat, shivering at the heat that settled in your bones, most of which not caused by the alcohol, but instead the memory of his warmth, eyes, and touch.

Sighing, you looked at the pair beside you, “You have been all but pushing us together for the past five years.”

Jacaerys snorted, “I have not. But there is no denying the pull you two have to each other. You’re allowed to be happy, sister.”

And Jacaerys was right.

There was a pull.

And no matter how hard you tried to avoid it, brush it off of you like water, close eye and look the other way, it was there, and it pulled at you.

“I am happy.” You argued, but it felt wrong. False.

Jacaerys had his chin on his fist as he gazed at you, curled brown hair looking a mess as many a hand had brushed through it. His cheeks were rosy, and pink lips plump from smiling or biting at them to keep his mouth shut. It was clear that the ale had gotten to him, but Jacaerys was never one to lie to you, especially about someone he considered a good friend.

And Cregan was his closest companion.

“It’s a perfect match,” He began, and you groaned loudly, rolling your eyes, “You being hot headed-“

“-I am not hot headed-“

“-And him being cool and patient. Blood of the North and Valyria. Perzys se Suvion.”

Fire and Ice.

A strum of recognition tickled in the back of your mind as Jacaerys continued.

“Opposites attract, even you out, and all the other nonsense some love sick fool would tell you. You would be good together, Y/n. He would calm you, and you would warm him.” Jacaerys teased.

“Don’t tell me you’re in love with Cregan, brother.” You teased back, watching as Jacaerys narrowed his eyes, “All this talk of opposites being perfect for each other, why do you not take him as your second wife? I am sure Baela would not mind sharing.”

Baela smirked, rubbing her stomach, “I wouldn’t mind a break. And Cregan looks good in-“

“-Keligon bona.” Stop that, Jacaerys chastised his wife, turning his attention back to you, “Think on it. He would be good for you.”

“I don’t need a man to make me whole or 'be good for me'. I will be Queen one day, and a husband will do naught but hold me back.”

“You will have to marry again someday, you know this as well as I do. And he would help you forward, if only you let him.”

You huffed, looking back out at the sea of people again, eyes immediately falling on him.

He was talking to a Lord, who’s gold and yellow robes shimmered in the light of the chambers. But as though he felt your gaze upon him, Cregan turned his head, and his eyes immediately met yours.

Instinct.

That pull.

“He invited me and Lucerys to Winterfell.” You told the two of them, seeing Jacaerys and Baela give each other excited looks in your periphery, as a soft smile found its way on Cregan’s as he looked at you, your own stretching your cheeks.

“Will you go?” Jacaerys’ voice hopeful.

As you watched Cregan, his gaze still on you, man beside him still talking, not having noticed his companions attention had been taken away, you felt the pull again. A sharp tug in your chest, the string having wrapped itself around a rib thrice, just below where your heart would sit.

It tugged again, and your hands curled into fists in your lap, desperate to keep yourself seated as you looked at him. Desperate to fight the urge that made you wish to go to him, stand by him, be close to him.

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you watched him, your brother and half-sister staring at you from your periphery as you feigned thought.

But you knew your answer already.

You knew it before he had even asked, before Cregan had even spoken to you.

Instinct.

“Yes.”

Hen ñuha ānogar māzigon Kivio Dārilaros, se zȳhon kessa sagon Vāedar Suvio Perzo.

From my blood come the Prince that was promised, and his will be the song of Ice and Fire.

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luveline · 2 years

Note

Hi! I seriously love the way you write parental relationships with kids. Not really sure if you’d be interested in this idea but would the reader ever need to pick up Roan from daycare when Eddie has to stay late at work?

hi! im so happy you do baby, thanks so much for your request! this was a great idea, you're a wonder ;) this one got really long by accident it's not my fault ♡ girl dad eddie x fem!reader

It's a desperate phone call. You just got home from work and you can hear the landline ringing as you open the door.

"Hello?" you ask, hooking the red plastic receiver between your cheek and your shoulder.

"Hey, it's Eddie!"

You could tell from the grinding sounds in the background. "Hey. Working hard or hardly working?"

Usually Eddie would laugh at your bad jokes. He might look all frosty and cool on the outside but he's not so tough on the inside, a veritable goodball through and through. It's easy to think of him blowing raspberries on Roan's tummy, their matching happy smiles.

"Did you hear me?" he asks.

"What?"

"I asked if you'd do me a favour."

"Sure thing," you say immediately. You ease your shoes back on. "What do you need?"

"Could you pick Roan up from daycare?"

You drop the phone and scramble to pick it up where it's swaying left to right. "Is everything okay?" you ask worriedly.

"Everything is fine! Well, everything sucks, but it's fine. They need my hands for something, 'n usually I'd ask Wayne to grab her for me but he's tied up." You blink. "It's okay if you can't," he adds. You think he might be saying, It's okay if you don't want to.

You grin. "I can get her no problem. Will they let me? Do I need to be on, like, a list?"

"I can call them first. You're sure you don't mind? You can bring her here-"

"Where? To the garage? Can't she just come watch movies with me?"

He clears his throat. "You want to?"

There's lots of things you could say here. Eddie, I adore her. Of course I want to. Or even, Eddie, I'm pretty sure I adore you, so I'd do it even if I didn't love her to pieces.

"I'd love to! We can have a princess party, and-"

"That sounds great, baby. Thank you." His tone is a tad strained.

"Oh, right. Finish your thing! I'll get in the car as soon as you go," you assure him.

"Thank you," he says again, and hangs up.

You let yourself in through the first door and approach the desk.

You drive down to the daycare and can't help thinking about how excited you are to see Roan. You hope she'll be excited in turn, and then you tell yourself off for entertaining the idea. You're not her mom, you're not her anything. You're barely Eddie's anything.

You're really hoping you will be.

"Hi, I'm here to pick up Roan Munson," you say, nervous to talk to this lady you've never met before.

She squints up at you assessingly from behind a pair of bifocals.

"Eddie said he was gonna call."

"Nobody's called me," she says, monotone. "What's your name?"

You tell her your name. She says, "Uh-huh," like she couldn't believe you less and then clicks through a struggling computer, green light illuminating her face.

You twiddle your thumbs. You can hear the sound of kids playing behind the door but don't want to try peeking in case the lady thinks you're a freak.

Maybe Eddie's gonna call any second now and save you the awkwardness.

You open your mouth to reiterate when she hums. "Alright. I'll buzz you in."

She buzzes you in.

You're on the list. Eddie put you on the list.

You walk through the second door and spot Roan instantly, already dressed in her shoes, a chunky pair of black mary janes, and a sparkly red nylon jacket. Her curls are in frizzy braids, one hanging dangerously close to what looks like a pot of dirtied paint water.

The toes of your shoes hit the baby gate. The sound draws lots of attention, a bundle of kids all excited to see their parents and go home. Among them is Roan. Her eyes get wide and she smiles her lovely baby smile, hands paused where she'd been drawing a picture.

"Hey, princess," you say, not too loud as to disturb the workers but more than enough for her to hear you clearly. "You coming home with me?"

Rhetorical, obviously, but amazing to get to hear her say, "Yes! Yes, I'm come with you."

She strides to the babygate and lifts her arms. It's familiar now; while you haven't gotten any better at picking her up, you do it without thinking. You've barely wrapped your arms around Roan when a young man is passing you her backpack.

"Thank you," you say emphatically, not sure what to do with it. In the end you shrug it over your own shoulder.

Roan gives you a hug right there and then. She's all short limbs and extreme enthusiasm as she does, the paper in her hand smashed to your neck and the flyaways from her braids tickling your nose.

She so heavy. You can never get used to how heavy she is. You give her a great back-rubbing squeeze and then set her down. She isn't happy, but she doesn't get too mad, only pouts.

"You look like daddy when you do that."

"Where is daddy?" she asks.

You smooth down the lapels of her jacket. "He's at work with Uncle Wayne. But he sent me to come and get you. Does that sound okay?"

She shrugs. You shrug back at her because she's funny, and it makes you laugh.

"Yeah? I figured we'd go buy some candy and have a princess party." You whisper the last bit and watch awe slacken her face.

It quickly tightens. She screams and jumps at you, almost knocking you over in her rush to hug you.

It's a great feeling. You can tell why Eddie loves this part as much as he does.

You don't have a car seat for her so you decide you can walk the half an hour to your place. It feels long. You take pity on her little legs dragging halfway in and politely ask if you can carry her. She rests on the moving bump of your hip and answers questions about her day as best as she can, her drawing now safely tucked away in her mini backpack.

You stop at the small corner store on the way and let her fill a basket with drinks and chips and candy. All pink or purple, of course. Your princess party needs appropriate catering. There's a cheap tiara and wand set hanging on a rotating rack in the back and you add it as inconspicuously as you can to a growing heap of things so as not to spoil the surprise.

Carrying her and a grocery bag full of things is hard work but you don't mind, not when she's having such a great time. All she's done is chatter about princesses and her dad and you in varying arrangements and with varying passion.

"This is my house," you announce outside.

You let yourselves in, help her out of her shoes, and hold her hand as you climb the stairs together. Roan takes them one at a time. You don't suppose the trailer has as many.

"Good job, baby," you praise.

She gives you one of her more shy smiles and gets noticeably closer to your leg, almost clinging to you as you show her where the bathroom is and then your bedroom.

You don't quite have a princess bed, but you do have a lot of soft looking pillows. She squeals.

"You want to lie down?" you ask her knowingly.

Roan nods. You smirk and pick her up, rocking her back and forth as you count, "1, 2, 3," and toss her into your sheets. She lands with a roaring bubble of giggles and a poof of silken sheets.

You throw yourself down beside her.

She lolls her head to look at you. You share a private smile.

When Eddie finds you, it's in the living room. He'd knocked a couple of time and got no answer, had almost turned around to leave when he heard the TV playing a familiar princess song.

"Girls?" he asks, shocked at your sleeping figures.

Roan wears a cheaply made plastic tiara. Her shoes and socks are gone, her small legs and feet pushed out straight in front of her on the couch cushion. You have your legs kicked up on the coffee table and are surrounded by snacks, a plastic wind in one hand and Roan's hand in the other.

He weaves around discarded shoes and things and perches carefully on the coffee table next to your legs, freshly scrubbed hand reaching out to clasp your calf, rubbing up and down the length of it until you rouse from your dozing. Your hand tightens around his daughters. She's the first thing you check when you wake up.

His heart aches in the best way.

"Hey," he says, still rubbing your leg slowly.

"Hi, Eddie." You rub your face and sit up with a sigh, flopping over until your back is hunched.

Eddie chuckles under his breath and applies a little more pressure to his massage.

"That feels nice," you say through a yawn.

"I bet it does. Did you walk all the way here?"

You wipe your eyes with one hand and look at him through parted fingers for a moment. "Yeah," you confess sheepishly, dropping your hand. "I don't have a car seat."

His turn to be sheepish. "I'm sorry."

"No! Don't be, we," — you hold her hand like a trophy; his heart aches worse — "had a really good walk. Great arm workout. That's my exercise for the year."

He holds his hand out for your empty one. You pass it to him. "Mm," he hums skeptically.

You blink owlishly. "It's okay."

"Seriously, I had a great time. Um, Roan might be out of commission for a bit though. She did some intense jumping on the bed earlier. Oh, and I'm totally forgetting the best part, she..." You fade off as Eddie brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it.

"I'm sorry you had to walk. I didn't think."

Eddie kisses the same spot and then let's it fall, rubbing the invisible mark with purpose. "Poor girls. I'll make it upto you," he promises.

"That's okay." You mean it. "I had a great time. She's- she's really awesome."

"Gets that from me."

"Sure does. Same as her bottomless pit of a stomach, and her moods, and her-"

"Okay, that's enough."

"-lovely good looks," you finish, eyebrows raising at the starts innocently. "What did you think I was gonna say?"

His laughter finally wakes Roan. She stretches out and mumbles dispassionately, grumpy to be pulled from sleep.

"Hey, princess," he says gently.

Though he feels bad for stealing your nickname, he can't not call her that when she's soft with sleep and wearing her cute crown. The fake pink gems shaped like hearts set in silver painted plastic adorning her inky curls may as well be real jewellery for how pretty she looks.

"Daddy," she cheers weakly, fatigue scratching her throat.

"Poor baby needs a drink," you say.

You're on your feet before Eddie can stop you. He watches you go. Roan climbs into his lap with a self-satsified noise, digging her face into his chest. He looks down at her and drops a handful of dainty kisses against her head.

"Did you have a good day?" he murmurs into her hair.

"Good day, daddy," she says agreeably, already falling back into sleep.

"Best day ever!" you say from the kitchen.

He tries not to feel too jealous and fails.

more of eddie and roan

#eddie and roan #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #dad!eddie munson

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