#i had more thoughts about something when i started this play through but that thought farted itself out of my brain during the

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V

Something is Brewing

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)

Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink

Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…

<- Previous -> Next

Pregnancy is tough. 

A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.  

At first it was a dream. 

No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.  

More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.

—

You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and— 

Slash. 

Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.

“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”

Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.

“She senses that you are with child.” 

“She does?”

“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue. 

——

Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself. 

Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating? 

Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night. 

—

t.w. nausea, vomiting.

In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.

You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch. 

“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”

Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”

“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.

He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.

Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru. 

“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.

——

Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.

—

“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”

“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy. 

You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.

“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”

Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit. 

“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness. 

It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his. 

——

And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment. 

It left you gutted. 

—

You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings. 

As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?

“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod. 

You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—

Grandmother’s soup.

You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste. 

“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.

As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms. 

“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.” 

“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest. 

“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.” 

“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side. 

“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”

——

Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life. 

Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak. 

As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell. 

But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire. 

The night he looked at you like you were something to eat. 

— 

Right…there.

You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.

is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working. 

He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.

“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.

Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.

“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”

This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get. 

“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him. 

“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.

“No.” 

“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue. 

“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.” 

“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.

“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly. 

“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening. 

“How do you feel about…being tied up?” 

Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways. 

“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”

You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.

“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.” 

“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage. 

You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.

He just needs a little push. 

“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.” 

His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender. 

That seals the deal.

—

Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.

The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back. 

Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.

“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?” 

“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat. 

“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him. 

Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head. 

“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.” 

The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.

“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists. 

“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.  

“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.

Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under. 

“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—” 

“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.” 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him. 

“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”  

You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours. 

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do. 

You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away. 

“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach. 

Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.

Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.

When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.  

Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him. 

“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well. 

At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat]. 

When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too. 

“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.

You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved. 

With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt. 

“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?” 

The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together. 

You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.

A smirk pulls at your lips.   

You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.

Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him. 

“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth. 

You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it. 

“Is it this?”

The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside. 

His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features. 

That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself. 

Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back. 

“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.

You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.  

“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still. 

“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.

This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.

“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.

Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface. 

Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.

Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.

He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth. 

‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now. 

“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him. 

His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering. 

With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them. 

“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. 

His first word was a plea of help. 

Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days? 

Pent up years of suffering. 

“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.” 

You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat. 

No foggy haze to dull the ache. 

No emptiness to be filled. 

And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full. 

Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you. 

Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea. 

“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice. 

Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes. 

Regardless, you keep moving your hips. 

Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters. 

But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock. 

Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips. 

“Haah!” You yelp.

Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you. 

“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you. 

Thrust.

Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips. 

“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts. 

You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists. 

You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust. 

“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic. 

“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”

“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you. 

“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—” 

Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank. 

Snap. 

“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath. 

The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot. 

“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.

“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines. 

“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained. 

Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting. 

His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.

Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.

An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now. 

“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you. 

“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate. 

“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips. 

“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—” 

“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.

You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet. 

“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.  

—

As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day. 

Until later that night. 

You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon. 

A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable. 

“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”

“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.” 

“…what?” The question is breathy. 

“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.” 

You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.

“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.

Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing. 

“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”

Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh. 

“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.” 

But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.

“I will.” He speaks sternly.

You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips. 

“Me too.”

——

Time waits for no one. 

At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.

You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed. 

Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.

The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most. 

The ones like last night. 

——

With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is. 

Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage. 

“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?” 

He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”  

Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up. 

Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.

“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders. 

You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.

Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child. 

“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you. 

To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.

He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility. 

And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut. 

Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally. 

Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself. 

Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door. 

A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night. 

As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.

Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes. 

After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward. 

And so do you. 

A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump. 

“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.” 

…but nothing. 

“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs. 

Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick. 

“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries. 

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.” 

Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face. 

“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.

“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”

“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.” 

“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?” 

“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back. 

“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”

“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”

You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water. 

“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.” 

“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.

“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”

Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal. 

You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here. 

The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa. 

Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict. 

“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree. 

“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”

Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going. 

“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy. 

“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.

Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband. 

You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.

Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.

“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down. 

You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort. 

“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.

“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.” 

As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her. 

“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent. 

Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation. 

“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.

“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain. 

“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod. 

“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.

Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.

“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”

“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions. 

Concern. Surprise. Fear. 

Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.

Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan. 

He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest. 

One that he must quickly put out. 

“Ralak!” 

He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you. 

Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night. 

“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump. 

Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button. 

“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his. 

“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?” 

“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.” 

“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.” 

—— 

After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task. 

It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.

Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches. 

—

Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations. 

You.

You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.

R. 

“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too. 

“Ralak—”

“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say. 

You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.” 

“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?” 

“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.” 

“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].” 

As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another. 

“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.

He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest. 

How could he keep this from you?

“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.

But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—

The glint of guilt. 

“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”

“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.

“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried. 

“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—” 

“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks. 

“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind. 

Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this. 

It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful. 

——

Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons. 

—

“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly. 

“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.” 

Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.” 

You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”

“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?” 

“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position. 

Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.

“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.” 

He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.

'…hee—hee—hoo…'

You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of. 

“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.” 

"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous. 

“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.” 

Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it. 

——

As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.

But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you. 

—

“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.” 

“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today. 

“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.” 

“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.” 

He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.

—

‘Practice Contractions.’

Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains. 

You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm. 

It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month. 

They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return. 

—

“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence. 

“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”

“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”

“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through. 

Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.  

“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.” 

Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...

…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see. 

All before coming home this evening. 

—

“Zu’té.”

Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident. 

The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.

You.

He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights. 

Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.

They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did. 

If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.

“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui. 

At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer. 

“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.

“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility. 

Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs. 

“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”

“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.

“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."

“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”  

“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit. 

This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour. 

War. 

“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure. 

“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."

Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.

Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.

“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."

"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.

"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.

——

Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of. 

But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night. 

The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.

Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.

But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.

And Ralak picked up on that very quickly. 

——

As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.

Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest. 

He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart. 

Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two. 

Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.

“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach. 

“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.” 

Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window. 

“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused. 

He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.

“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.” 

He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?” 

“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”

And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.

Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance. 

But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge. 

His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges. 

“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body. 

“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.” 

“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.

“You are.” He insists softly. 

You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.” 

Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you. 

“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.” 

“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt. 

“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not. 

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”

Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?” 

You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say. 

“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand. 

“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin. 

“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches. 

You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub. 

You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.

“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?” 

Right, you’re on the patio. 

Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.

But you simply didn’t care. 

If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand. 

“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?” 

You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast. 

“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand. 

“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.” 

Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits. 

It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.

You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.

“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear. 

You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you. 

You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair. 

His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair. 

His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole. 

His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you. 

“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate. 

“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers. 

“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit. 

He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips. 

“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs. 

“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”

Its almost cathartic. 

Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high. 

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there. 

“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out. 

“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed. 

“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened. 

“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts. 

“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed. 

You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth. 

Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs. 

“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that. 

But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.

A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.

“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed. 

“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you. 

“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it. 

He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation. 

“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].” 

“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness. 

His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence. 

He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure. 

Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues. 

“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.

Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste. 

He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him. 

He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts. 

You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders. 

Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in. 

But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth. 

Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride. 

——

#ralak #ralak smut #avatar smut #awow smut #metkayina #metkayina smut #metkayina oc #oc smut #avatar oc smut #awow oc smut #sully reader #sully reader x oc #oc x sully reader #oc x sully reader smut #na'vi smut #na'vi x reader #na'vi x sully reader #na'vi avatar #smut #metkayina x omaticaya #metkayina x omaticaya smut #metkayina x fem reader #ralak x y/n #ralak x reader #ralak x you #pregnancy smut #na'vi pregnancy #na'vi pregnant #ralak pregnant #avatar pregnancy

[bunnwich]

It's Supposed to Be Fun

(a letter to my friends in the twst fandom)

I've been wanting to make this post for a while and these thoughts may seem scattered but I’m gonna try to express them. 

Lately, I have seen many friends and moots that either are leaving the fandom or feel guilty over not having posted in a while or losing interest in twst. On the other side, I also have friends being harassed.

This a reminder to remember why you joined this community to begin with. I know that keeping up with the fast-moving pace of fandom and comparing ourselves to others, can skew our perspective on these things.

It’s supposed to be fun. 

Why do we post art or write? Sure, partly for recognition, there's no denying that. But, why do we create, I mean really? For enjoyment. Not for others, not to be “popular” FOR JOY.

So, whether you’re dealing with people critiquing you or feeling guilty about not creating. My question is this: Why waste so much of your time on something that makes you miserable?

Did it stop being fun? Why? Haters? Loss of interest?

To my friends who feel guilty for not creating and not sure if they lost interest in twst: 

Don’t feel guilty. At one time, the creation of your twst content was natural. It's what you did for fun with friends or for yourself. Revisit that mindset and think - if creating twst content now will bring that same joy it did before.

If the answer is no, then maybe it’s time to pivot. It’s okay for interests to fade. It doesn’t mean that time, memories, or the friends you made are lost. Connect with your friends, we will understand! We still love you! It's not a race there's no time limit, just pick up were you want to. Draw fanart of old events or OCs.

To my friends who have been harassed: 

I say this with sincerity…. People who harass others over fictional characters are fucking losers.

Like… There’s no other eloquent way to encapsulate it. I’m starting to not care for the reason anymore - If you harass or be shady to others over a ship or fictional character. CONGRATS! YOU ARE A LOSER.

We all join fandoms as a hobby, for fun. We’re all just kids in the sandbox playing pretend again… and if you are the type of person to go up just to “kick the doll out of someone’s hand" or make commentary on how “their way of playing is wrong." You’re a loser. I have a life outside of twst, we all do. Someone saying my ship is wrong or cringe is just so laughable to me. We have to make fun of these people more for being so goddamn lame.

Imagine being so unhappy that when you see someone having fun you HAVE to comment on it. By all means, if it gets you through the day...talk shit to close friends or even post about it on your own blog. (THAT WAS ALWAYS ALLOWED.) Don't bother creators directly. Don't be a loser. I sure see tolerance leave people’s bodies when they see a fandom opinion they don't like. (And this is coming from someone who has lots of opinions on these things! But that's why I always put the disclaimers that, hey this is just MY opinion.)

Discussion is one thing, unhelpful comments are another. We shouldn’t give these people the time of day. Curate your online space. Yes, when you post things online you are subjecting yourself to scrutiny. But, we as creators need to stop letting these people have power over us. Period. We do this for free!! FOR FUN. The best thing you can do is create shamelessly.

Delete weird replies, block whoever you need to do to rid yourself of these people who have nothing better to do. Keep your peace. It’s supposed to be for fun. You don’t owe anyone a response.

The twst fandom is like a little family to me and I guess I feel protective over the people in it?  I have made many friends and memories because I joined it. And even dispite a handful of the negative experiences (AKA: A couple of “losers" that I’ve had to deal with.) I’ll always look fondly back on this time.

The key for me has always been to just…create for myself. I originally made bunnwich for me and one friend to make fun little arts about our Yuu’s and now I get to have lots of friends to share it with! I’ve transitioned from an OC blog to probably more of an Oc x Canon blog…but I don’t care tbh. I just…draw what I feel like. I know there are people who probably dislike me for that or feel strange about my content and that’s fine. I’m still gonna keep drawing it, loser.  

And I just want you guys to do the same, twst or not.

I can’t forget that all my followers and friends are a bonus, if I had never joined tumblr I’d still be drawing the silly shit I draw in peace. And while yes, I do want to grow as an artist and sell more merch and keep growing... I can’t forget my initial excitement for this silly little game. I like to talk about it. I like to write about it. It inspires me.

It’s supposed to be fun. Please remember that. I know it can be discouraging to have others being shitty to you. Or going through a creative drought. But, try not to let this stop you from creating what you love.

#Anyways just had to get this out #feel free to ignore #I love you guys alot and idk if this is helpful but I hate to see you guys upset #ren speaks🌱 #twst

[obsessivevoidkitten]

That Time You Got Yeeted Into Another World, Mistaken as a God-Sent Gift, and Used as a Prize in an Arena

Yandere Bear-Man Dilf x Gender Neutral Reader

CW: Noncon, framed for a crime, language barrier, eaten out like it's groceries, biting, scent marking, musk, combat, general yandere behavior

Word Count: 765

(Speed written out of nowhere because I had the idea suddenly, not beta read so please forgive any mistakes. I hope you guys like this ficlet. Also forgive the title, in a game I was playing there was a crossover with "That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime" and I liked the vibe of the title.)

You were framed for a crime you didn't commit and in your village the punishment for that crime was immediate exile via being shoved down a steep crater in the center of which is a one-way portal to what is thought to be Hell.

What no one on your side of the portal knew was that on the other side was just another world. A world that celebrated with a great holiday anytime a human came through the portal. It was also a world populated entirely, with the exception of humans who crossed over, by human-like beast hybrids.

Driders, lion hybrids, nagas, aqrabuamelu (scorpion-men), harpies, dog people, centaurs, minotaurs, gnolls, and many other races that seemed to be part human. 

They have a connecting portal in their universe, but any who try to go into it are spat back out. The current went only in one direction.

Every few years, a human would be flung forth from the portal, a gift from the gods! But only the worthy can keep such a gift. So whenever a human comes to the realm from the watcher of the portal will ring the bells and all the warriors assemble and a grand tournament is held at the arena. Whoever wins gets to keep the human and gains enough wealth to care for them properly.

Things are no different when you arrive, you are immediately ushered away, examined, and pampered like a prize doll with no agency. Despite your objections. It seems like only the keeper of the portal has any rudimentary undestanding of your language, not that it helped you. He didn't explain much and his speech wasn't that great. Something about... a big game?

You were naturally frightened beyond all reason, seeing all these beast-men, but it didn't seem like you were being harmed. It really wasn't what you thought hell was going to be like. 

On the day of the big tournament, you were dressed in the finest silks, given a tiny crown of silver, and taken to the best seat in the arena. One where everyone could see you. A cushioned throne was provided for you to sit upon. You figured that this must be a ceremony to welcome people from the portal.

You watched as all the combatants sparred. At first you were horrified, but it became evident that people could yield and death was, almost always, avoided. There were combatants of every variety. 

Even from the start the best seemed to be a naga woman named Eeris and a bear-man named Brakwen. As they advanced through the fights they both finally made it to the finals where they'd clash. Eeris favored twin daggers and fangs while Brakwen used claws and brute strength. He had a sword but had not resorted to using it. 

It was a mighty battle but Brakwen the bear-man managed to win. You still did not yet realize you were the prize. Not until you were escorted down to him and were carried bridal style out of the arena with the crowd cheering. Brakwen had won the god's favor!

From close up he looked even more imposing. He seemed to be in his late 30s to early 40s. He mostly looked like a hairy man from far away though up close his massive size, sharp teeth, claws, thick fur covering his arms and quite frankly adorable bear ears, gave him away. He was rugged but admittedly rather handsome. You knew there was nothing you could do so you let him carry you away. 

Despite the language barrier, Brakwen did his best to please his god-given prize. He could tell you feared him. Especially since you tried to run off a few times. But Brakwen didn't get angry. You never even managed to get past the door. Even if you did there were two gates outside the house. You were far too valuable to let wander off. 

Eventually when you had stopped running off, and when his rut demanded he wait no longer, he began acting a bot more aggressove and sexual towards you. 

Though you tried to stop him it ended with him stretching out your hole with his powerful tongue, lubing you up with his copious amounts of drool, and sliding into you with his massive musky cock.

That's what your life was now. Being treated like a fragile precious gem most of the time and then for one week out of every month you were fucked full of hot bear cum in every possible position, bitten possessively, and scent marked by being forced to wear his oversized clothing. 

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #yandere boyfriend #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #My OC Brakwen #yandere exo #yandere exophilia

[daycourtofficial]

Azriel’s Girls

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 2.6k | warnings: none

Summary: you overhear a conversation between Azriel and his brothers that has you second guessing your boyfriend’s faithfulness. What will you find when you follow him out one night?

Author’s note: two fics one day! This is crack lmao I wrote this in a blur this afternoon from a silly convo with @milswrites @prythianpages and @ninthcircleofprythian lmao

You and Feyre came into the River House giggling over the amount of paint that covered the both of you. The two of you stop laughing long enough to look at each other, before devolving into fits of giggles once more. One of the boys in the studio had insisted on today’s topic being finger painting, which led to the children essentially dipping their hands into paint before smearing it over all of your clothes.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower here?” Her voice is soft and kind, a slight rasp to it from talking to the kids all afternoon.

“Thanks Fey, but I’d rather shower at home so I can slip into my pajamas and go to sleep.” You look away from her, as if you could see him through the walls. “Maybe I can even convince Azriel to rub my back. I shouldn't have given some piggy back rides.”

Feyre hums, a soft ‘told you so’ on her tongue, but you give her a pointed look and she keeps it to herself.

“Well, I’m going to go wash up. Good luck finding the boys.”

Her voice floats down the hallway she takes, and you start thinking about where to look - the most obvious place being Rhys’s study. Your feet pad through the halls until you start to hear three loud laughs coming from the cracked study door.

You keep moving towards the source, ready to make your presence known, when you hear Cassian say, “when will you see them again?”

Your boyfriend responds with a soft, “tonight”, eliciting raucous laughter from his brothers. You still, pressing yourself towards the wall, tilting your head in contemplation.

Azriel had told you he had plans tonight, that he was doing something important for Rhys. Had he lied to you?

Cassian’s voice cuts through your train of thoughts, “I’m sure the girls at Rosehall have been missing you.”

Rosehall?

You scrunch your eyebrows, trying to remember if you had ever heard of Rosehall. Was it somewhere in Velaris? Was it a pleasure hall? Who were these girls Cassian spoke of?

Had your sweet Azriel been sneaking around, and his brothers were aware of it? Had they been condoning it?

“I haven’t been able to see them in a while, they’ll be glad for the company.”

“I’m sure they’ll be crawling all over you, brother.”

Their laughs were knives in your heart. Did everyone know? Were you nothing more than a fool to them? Nothing more than a mere joke to these males? Your mind was racing, not paying any mind to the rest of the conversation as you ran down the hall into the kitchens, getting yourself a glass of water. You chugged it, the cool liquid giving your racing thoughts something else to focus on. Like a plan to figure out the truth.

After a few minutes of allowing yourself to seethe and panic, you retraced your steps towards Rhys’s study with your plan in tow: get to Rosehall, find out who these girls are, and yell and scream at Azriel and his brothers for playing you for a fool. As you approach, the males within were now speaking of some sporting event you were not the slightest bit interested in. Azriel’s face brightens as you knock and enter, pushing the door that was slightly ajar. You hate the way your heart picks up a bit at seeing him, at seeing how his face lights up at your presence, your cheeks heating at his attention.

He’s a lying, backstabbing, good for nothing-

“How was painting with Feyre?”

The attention from all three of them pulls you from your thought spiral and you choke on your own spit, coughing a bit. Azriel’s smile turns into a look of concern as he watches you, but Cassian chuckles. “Did you eat the paint by accident?”

Rhysand’s low tone chimes in, “I believe she’s wearing half the paint in Feyre’s studio, and I’m sure my mate’s wearing the other half.”

You chuckle, “uh yeah, Feyre was heading to shower when I left her.”

Rhys dips his head, “that's my cue to leave. BRothers, always a pleasure until better things come along. I’ll see you all later.”

Cassian laughs as Rhys disappears in front of you all, “horny bastard.”

Azriel glares at his brother, “and the pot calls the kettle black.”

Cassian scoffs, flicking his wrist in the air, “pish posh, Azriel. The past is the past.”

“Your past was last week when everytime I came back to the House of Wind for two weeks I got front row seats to your ass.”

“Well, it's our house. And I have a fantastic ass.”

Cassian flexes his thighs, as if Azriel just had to see it to mitigate his annoyance.

“I live there too.”

Cassian shrugs, as if this was a matter of opinion to just accept differences over.

Azriel looks back to you, his eyes making you feel warm, just as they always did. But the warmth was quickly devolving into a ball of anger and sadness, warming your stomach with jealousy and annoyance.

You slap a smile onto your face as you look towards Az, taking in his lazy grin as Cassian slaps him on the back. “I’m off to see Nes. You kids have fun!”

Cassian walks toward the balcony, taking to the skies. Azriel turns toward you, offering his hand so the two of you could embark as well. You accept his hand in yours, a little part of your mind telling you this is the last time you’ll do this. You laugh, pushing the thoughts to the side as you allow Azriel to pick you up, the two of you shooting up into the air.

Azriel flies you back to your apartment, his wings expertly moving over the streets of Velaris. You can’t help the smile on your face as you two fly through the air, watching the people below you until he lands right in front of your home.

You open the door for the both of you, and he follows closely behind. He chuckles at your paint covered clothes, and you fidget slightly, wanting him to make the move to leave.

The clock in your living room chimes, and his gaze moves towards it. “It’s getting late, I have to go. Will you be okay?”

You nod, your arms tightening around yourself. He takes your nervous energy as your hatred for sleeping alone, not wanting to upset you further by making you speak about it.

“How long will you be gone?”

He ponders for a moment, “I should be back tomorrow or the day after.”

He turns toward the door, but you shoot out your hand to grab his wrist. “Can I have one of your shadows? To keep me company? I like having them around.”

One shadow in particular dances at your words, coming from behind Azriel, practically spinning in the air as it immediately rushes to you.

“I hope you like that one because I don’t think it’ll let a different one stay with you.”

You giggle as it weaves through your hair, picking it up into a ponytail before dropping it.

“Perfect, so I’ll have someone to be witness to my antics.”

You giggle, but his face is solemn as he looks at you, something feeling so off about your behavior.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

His words are so soft, and every part of you wants to tell him no, I’m not okay, because you are seeing other women who will be crawling all over you once you leave from here.

Instead you nod, making up an excuse about your eyes being tired from all the painting. He kisses your forehead, his lips soft and light against your skin before pulling away and stepping out of your door before winnowing away.

You count your breath for a few beats before turning to the shadow, “do you know where Rosehall is?”

-

Of all of your terrible ideas over the years, this one was perhaps the worst. You had asked the shadow where Rosehall was, expecting it to be somewhere in Velaris, likely in the parts of the city you were less familiar with. You did not expect the black wisp to wrap around your wrist and begin tugging you away from Velaris very forcefully.

You had started getting nervous when it kept pulling you towards the outskirts, but you were in it now, and you were going to see this ridiculous scheme through to the end.

The shadow had been pulling you for hours it seemed, across landscapes, your feet killing you as you walked, and somewhere several miles away from Velaris, the shadow’s hold loosened on your wrist, opting to move up and down your arm, as if telling you this was your destination.

“Are you sure this is right?”

The shadow danced all around you as if it were confirming your statement. You looked at the gated entrance, the estate so lush and green and not at all what you had expected, it took you by surprise.

This was where he brought women? To do scandalous things and have nights full of debauchery? Was this some beautiful and well-tended pleasure hall? Before you can debate going through the gate, the shadow moves forward, unlatching it and pushing it open for you.

You sigh, thinking to yourself no going back now.

You enter through the gate, preparing yourself to hear the sounds of females giggling, perhaps even moaning, but you are completely taken aback at the chorus of meows you hear, followed by a door opening, and Azriel’s soft voice calling out, “if you’re here for my mother, she has stepped out-”

His voice stops as he takes in the sight of you, the two of you standing before each other across the lush estate. His eyes swim with confusion, and you’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words or the situation before. He continues to look at you, before realizing he’s carrying a tray of various raw meats and fish. He takes no notice of the dozen or so cats circling him, several trying to climb up his legs toward the food he carries.

“You- what are- how did you get here?”

You lift up the shadow that was entwined with your arm before it skitters off to join the other shadows playing games with the cats who weren’t paying attention to Azriel. You try not to wear the confusion on your face, hoping desperately to have some upper hand here.

“Is this Rosehall?”

Azriel sighs, setting down the food as one of the cats lunges to bite at his arm, missing and falling back into the pool of cats at Azriel’s feet.

“Yes.”

You puff up your chest, confusion seeping through your features as you ask, “and where are the females? The girls?”

“The girls?” His voice is incredulous, and you want to roll your eyes at it.

“Yes, the girls. The ones who wish to climb all over you because you haven’t been paying them attention.”

His long legs start to make their way across the front garden, the sea of cats at his feet parting as he makes his way through them. “The girls who climb over me?”

You sigh, exasperation evident, “must you repeat my words? Yes, okay fine. I overheard Cassian speaking of your plans this evening with ‘your girls’. Now why don’t you bring them out and show me to be a fool?”

A deep, belly laugh comes from his mouth, and you are utterly offended.

“Azriel, I came here to put you through the ringer for stepping out on me, and you find it funny?”

He steps forward, trying to put his arms around you but you step away from his embrace. His laughing continues as he asks, “you walked all the way here?”

“Yes.”

You stick out your chin, determined to look strong and confident.

“You walked all the way from Velaris to here, to find out I had cats?”

“Why yes, I did walk all the way here to find out-”

Your words die on your tongue as you look around, not seeing any other females anywhere. You picked up the scent of one, but the scent smelled so much like Azriel, they had to be related in some way.

He watches your nose twitch, separating out all the smells beneath the ever present smell of cat.

“My mother lives here.”

He coughs, the joyous look from his laughter gone, his hands moving behind his back. He rocks on his feet, and you found it quite endearing.

“With my cats.”

“Your cats?”

“Yes, but they’re not really mine. They just show up.”

“Your cats show up? What does that mean?”

“It means, if I spend any time in Illyria the cats seek me out. I’ve already fixed the stray cat problem in Velaris.”

He opens his arms wide.

“They’re all here. Problem solved, I suppose.”

You blink, slightly convinced Rhys had finally broken your mind and made up the most ridiculous scenario he could imagine. You feel one of the cats rub against your legs, and you bend slightly to nuzzle its face. It was pitch black with bright green eyes. It was so little, you couldn’t help but pick it up despite its verbal protests.

“You have cats.”

“Yes, and Rhys and Cassian despise the cats. Rhys says he’s allergic, but I think he’s just too worried about his damn furniture.”

“And Cassian?”

“Cats hate Cassian.”

He says this as if it’s an uncontested fact.

“How can all cats hate one person?”

“He likes to swing them by their tails.”

You nod, “okay, maybe all cats can hate one person.”

As the two of you spoke the shadows had lifted a cat up onto Azriel’s shoulders, where it stood meowing and pawing at the black wisps. You watched in bewilderment, unsure if the shadows were playing pranks or not, when the cat slid from his shoulder into the crook of his elbow, nuzzling into the warmth there.

You cross your arms, heat blooming in your cheeks at your rash decision making. “So there aren’t beautiful females here?”

“There’s one.”

“I knew i- oh. You meant me.”

You deflate once more, letting the adrenaline seep from your body. You were exhausted, well and truly. He nodded before putting the cat down, watching it scamper off into the grass. “I shouldn’t have lied about where I was going. Several dozen cats are just… a lot to spring on someone at once.”

You look to the ground, fingers scratching the ears of the kitten you were holding, “and maybe I got a little…. carried away.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “you picked the wrong shoes to hike out here from Velaris.”

You looked down at your sneakers, chuckling, “uh yeah, I definitely need to soak my feet for a bit.”

“Do you want to come inside?” He watches you hesitantly before asking, “Or I could take you home?”

You look toward the beautiful estate before peering back down at the wiggling kitten in your arms, before deciding that you did want to see Azriel’s mother’s home and to hopefully meet her. “Are you going to tell your mother about how I got here?”

He chuckles, slow and soft, “of course I am. She’d be endlessly amused.”

“Do you have any black felt? I’d love to make this little guy some wings.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes as he puts an arm around your shoulder, leading you inside. “While you play arts and crafts, I can formally introduce you to all of the other cats.”

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @ninthcircleofprythian

Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin

Thanks for reading ❣️

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar writing #azriel fluff #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader

[slayfics]

Katsuki and Hitoshi fight over you.

Warnings: characters ages up, NSFW themes, angst

1k words

Explosions went off atop the building's roof as Katsuki continued to detonate his quirk. He thought it was his lucky day to run into Hitoshi. Until he realized what this fight would consist of.

Unable to expel his frustration in his usual insults and vile comments, due to Hitoshi’s quirk, Katsuki focused on setting off explosions.

Yet, Hitoshi had come a long way since his time at UA. Expertly bouncing around and using the capture scarf to swing and avoid the explosions.

Katsuki had wanted to knock the lights out of Hitoshi’s eyes for some time now. Ever since he found out about you two. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his mind around you giving a hero like Hitoshi the time of day. What did you see in him?

So, when he ran into the brainwashing hero, he thought his wish was finally granted. However, now amid a spar with Hitoshi, the bitter realization sat in. He wouldn’t be able to say all the nasty words he saved up for the hero.

He wasn't able to tell Hitoshi that he wasn't a worthy enough hero to be with you. That he was a pathetic punk boy, Grimace-looking, Eeyore mother fucker. If he said any of the things he desperately wanted to, Hitoshi would brainwash him, and the fight would be over. Katsuki let out a huff of air and another explosion that Hitoshi dodged.

"We can talk like adults instead," Hitoshi said sliding across the roof.

Katsuki ignored Hitoshi's pleas and came at him with another attack that Hitoshi barely evaded.

"Trust me Bakugo, you don't want to do this," Hitoshi warned him. Katsuki's eyes flashed with fire, challenging Hitoshi. Despite Katsuki's continued silence, Hitoshi could understand his declaration of war clearly, and he wasn't lucky enough to dodge the next attack. Katsuki landed a blast on Hitoshi sending him flying and knocking against the roof railing.

"Fine, have it your way," Hitoshi said recovering from the blast and pulling on the railing to stand up. Finally, being pushed to his breaking point, Hitoshi decided to fight back. The only difference is that Katsuki's quirk worked with blunt power, while Hitoshi's focused on a psychological level. Hitoshi only had to break Katsuki into saying something, and he wasn't afraid to play dirty.

Hitoshi turned the dials on his voice modulator as Katsuki prepared his next blast.

"I want you to hear how she sounds for me," Hitoshi said, turning one last dial on his mask, as Katsuki lunged at him again.

That's when it happened, the sound that took the breath out of Katsuki's lungs. Your moans came from Hitoshi's mask. They were sweet and sexy as hell; the problem was you were moaning Hitoshi's name.

Katsuki fumbled for just a moment letting go of his blast, giving Hitoshi plenty of time to avoid it. Your moans came louder and faster from Hitoshi's mask, "Toshi... Toshi... Toshi~"

Katsuki bit his tongue biting back curses and rage, blood rushed through his mouth. The taste of copper dripped down his throat from the deep cut now on his tongue.

This was just an imitation of your voice. Yet, it sounded so real, and Katsuki knew it had to be true. Hitoshi had to have heard your moans himself to imitate you so perfectly. Worse. It meant he heard them more than once. Studied them.

Your moans increased to what Katsuki recognized so perfectly to be you reaching your climax, and it all came crashing down on him. You had cum for Hitoshi.

Katsuki lets out another blast, it's strong, too strong. Hitoshi barely gets out of the way. Katsuki huffs, fists clench. What's worse is you sound so fucking hot, and he can't help but feel the heat that runs through his body at hearing you again.

"We can stop this," Hitoshi offers, but Katsuki's frustration peaks, as more blasts fly. Katsuki's wrath and jealousy start to boil over into something he doesn't recognize.

Hopelessness.

Someone else is pleasuring you and there's not a damn thing he can do about it. The scene that flashes in Katsuki's mind makes his stomach sick. He can see the lavender-haired bastard on top of you, thrusting into your heat and the fucked-out expression on your face.

So much resentment and nowhere to put it, not even a damn word he can say for himself without losing this spar. He feels the lump in his throat form, and he can't stop it. His tongue almost bit in half, the tears finally form and cascade down his face.

Hitoshi notices this and gives Katsuki one last chance, "I'll stop if you do."

Katsuki keeps going, but his blasts aren't the same now. There is less passion behind them. It's sad to watch. Hitoshi barely has to dodge anymore. Katsuki's knees are weak, and his movements are slow and shaky.

"Not giving up, yet? Fine, hear what she said about you," Hitoshi speaks, changing his mask once more to imitate your voice.

Your voice breaks through Hitoshi's mask again. This time it’s your ugly cry that Katsuki knows so well. You're gasping for air as the words pour out, and it’s so clear it sounds as if you’re really here, “I loved him, but it wasn’t enough. He was always going to choose to be number one over me,” your voice cries and hiccups.

You had cried to Hitoshi about how Katsuki failed you, and now this was the outcome. Then comes the image in Katsuki’s mind, Hitoshi has his arms wrapped around you comforting you through your tears. Katsuki wants to rip you out of Hitoshi's arms, but he can’t because he drove you there.

Katsuki's knees give in, and he collapses to the floor. Gasping for air, his body racked with panic, fire extinguished. Taking rapid shallow breaths, he tries to regain himself.

Hitoshi walks over to the man he's brought to his knees without laying a finger on him.

"You done? Maybe next time we can talk like adults," Hitoshi mocks. Then departs, leaving the blond hero alone on the roof.

sinners: @izarosf1833 @stoned-anime-babe @lees-chaotic-brain @lunathewonyoungstan @sebsvertigo @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @peachsukii @reneinii @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

#mha bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x reader #hitoshi shinso x y/n #hitoshi shinso x reader #shinso x you #shinso x y/n #shinso x reader #bnha shinso #shinsou hitoshi #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki #hitoshi shinso #hitoshi x reader #bnha shinso hitoshi #</slay writes> #mha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou x reader #hitoshi shinsou #mha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x y/n #bnha x self insert

[sunny44]

You have to share

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Mom!wife!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: your son thinks that Max needs to share.

I was at home, enjoying a rare moment of tranquility after a long and victorious Formula 1 season. Sitting on the living room sofa, I watched Oliver playing with his toy cars on the rug. At that moment, I caught myself thinking about how big he had gotten and how quickly time had passed. It seemed like yesterday that Y/n told me she was pregnant, and we were at the hospital watching him being born. Now he was already four years old, and I was thinking about talking to her and seeing what she thought about trying for another one.

"Daddy, can you come play with me?" Oliver asked, his voice full of enthusiasm.

"Of course, champ." I replied, smiling as I got up to sit with him on the rug.

I sat next to Oliver, picking up one of the cars. We started an improvised race, Oliver's laughter filling the room and making me laugh along with him.

Of course, he made me be myself, and he was Uncle Lando.

After a few minutes, Oliver suddenly stopped and looked at me seriously.

"Daddy, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what's up?" I asked, surprised by the sudden change in tone.

"Why do you win all the championships? Don't you think it's a bit selfish not to share with the other drivers?"

I admit I was extremely surprised by the question. I had never thought that Oliver could see it that way.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because Mommy always says we can't be selfish, that we have to share and we can’t have everything just because we want to. But you always have the victories, and that's not fair.” he said simply, and I understood his analogy about selfishness.

"Look, Oliver, I love what I do. I love racing, and I love winning. It's something I've worked for my whole life.” I began, trying to explain.

"But, Daddy," Oliver interrupted, "if you win everything, the other drivers never get a chance to feel what it's like to be a champion. They must be really sad."

I was silent for a moment, considering my son's words. I had never thought of my victories that way, obviously, because that's not how the sport works, but I also had never thought of explaining it to him so he wouldn't think I or any other driver was selfish for winning.

"I understand what you're saying," I told him. "But Formula 1 is a competitive sport. All the drivers train hard and want to win; there's no rule that says each driver has to win once. When I win, it's because I worked hard for it. And I know the other drivers also work really hard, and when their time comes, they will win too."

Oliver frowned, thinking.

"But wouldn't it be fairer if you let the others win sometimes? That way, everyone would be happy." I smiled at him, proud that he thought that way.

"You know, Oliver, the joy of winning comes from effort and dedication. If I just let the others win, it wouldn't be fair to them either. They want to win honestly, knowing they were the best that day and not because someone let them win."

Oliver nodded slowly, understanding.

"So you win because you're the best? And they also want to win because that shows they're the best?"

"Exactly," I replied, satisfied with his understanding. "And that's what makes victory so special. Each driver has their victories, their achievements. And we all respect each other for that."

Oliver smiled, now more relieved.

"So, when I grow up and race for real, I'll train really hard to beat you!" I laughed, hugging my son.

"That's right, champ. And when that day comes, I'll be very proud of you."

After that, we continued playing with the toy cars, and about half an hour later, my wife walked through the door with her bag and a pizza box.

"Hi, my loves," she said, closing the door, and I was immediately abandoned.

"Mommy!" Oliver shouted, running to her, and she hugged him, picking him up.

"What are my two favorite boys doing?"

"We're playing Formula 1," he said excitedly, and she gave me a peck on the lips.

"Hmmm, sounds fun."

"Do you want to play with us?" He gave her those big blue puppy eyes. Y/n knows how to resist, but he always wins me over with them.

"I would love to, but I'm starving and really craving that pizza."

"You brought pizza?" he asked, excited.

"Yes, I did."

"Then what are we waiting for?" he said, starting to squirm in her arms to be put down. "I'm going to wash my hands."

And with that, he ran to the bathroom, giving me a few minutes alone with her.

"How are you?" I asked, hugging her waist as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

"Tired but good, counting the days until vacation." She kissed me again.

"Oliver asked me today if I didn't think it was selfish of me to win all the championships and not let the other drivers win too." She started laughing at that.

"Where did he get that from?" she asked, going to set up the pizza for us to eat.

"He asked because he thought it was unfair for me to win everything and because he thought the other drivers would be sad."

"Ugh, he's so cute," she said, and I agreed. "I miss when he was a baby."

"About that," then she looked at me, "I was thinking about having another one."

"Do you want another kid?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"I do, actually, I just didn't know if you wanted to."

"I would love to have another four," she laughed.

"That's not going to happen. If it were you giving birth, I'd agree, but since it's not," just then Oliver came in and sat in his chair, and I served him a slice of pizza and a glass of juice.

“Hmm I love pizza.” He said with his mouth all covered with sauce making us laugh.

After we had dinner as a family we all went to bed to watch a movie together.

Bonus scene!

Y/nverstappen instagram stories

“Daddy and Oli time. And yes, he looks exactly like his father, I was just carrying him for 9 months.”

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 #f1 instagram au #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen headcanons #max verstappen wallpaper #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen angst #max verstappen au #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen series #max verstappen drabble #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen masterlist #max verstappen blurb #max verstappen red bull #max verstappen instagram au #mv1 x reader #mv1 #mv33 #mv1 imagine #mv33 x reader

[mangowafflesss]

PART 3 TO THE EX WIFE

This is the final part, I hate this but whatever I don't care :) Love to everyone who read this <3

Part 1 , Part 2

It had been a couple of days since you had kicked out John and his bitch of an ex. It was peaceful but very quiet. There was more room for your mind to start spiralling into thoughts, so you either had music playing through your speakers or the tv on throughout the day, just to make it seem like someone was here with you in the house.  

You had the locks changed and also blocked all contact with him, yes it was hard but you believed it to be the best thing to do. No more temptation to let him back into your heart. He hurt you and now you had to heal from the wounds. 

However, John wasn’t giving up on you that easily. He would show up to your house daily, knocking, wanting for you to listen to him. But why should you? He wouldn't listen to you, no matter how many times you expressed how much you wanted him to get rid of his ex.  

Today was Saturday. You were fresh out of the shower and heard repeated knocking on your front door. Choosing to ignore it, you did your usual routine before the knocking reached a point where your eye was borderline twitching. 

With a huff, you turned on your heel and charged through the house. When you got closer to the door, the louder the thumping got. “Fuck off John!” you yelled but the sound was relentless. 

Unlocking the door, you twisted the handle and yanked it open “Will you stop before you break down my damn door” you say but when the person on the other side isn’t John, your angry temper fizzles a little but not much. 

“John’s not here” you go to shut the door but his arm stops you and you roll your eyes before opening it again. 

“Where is he?” 

“Don’t know. Don’t care” you say with a shrug and watch as he looks past you and into your house. “I’m being serious Simon. His car isn’t even here” you point to the empty spot next to your car on the drive and feel your lip quiver for a second. 

No. You were done crying for him. 

“Did something happen?” he asks and you cross your arms over your chest “As if you don’t already know. You’re probably one of the first people he would’ve told. Is that why you’re here? He gave up begging so he sent one of his men to do it for him” you scoff while he stands there looking confused. You don’t think you ever seen such emotion on him. 

“I haven’t heard from him in a week. I have no idea what’s going on” he says truthfully and you’re shocked. 

“Really?” He nods his head and you believe him. “Why don’t you tell me about it? Whatever it is sounds like he’s in the wrong” you contemplate it for a while before stepping to the side and letting him inside of your home. 

A couple of weeks later, Simon had been coming over a lot more. He expressed his hatred for what John did to you. You were confused at first, he was the closest thing Simon had to a family. They were friends, comrades. It was strange at first, but you were glad to have someone on your side, telling you how much John had fucked up. 

One night, you were laying on the sofa and stretched out your legs. They landed in Simon's lap and you had apologised before pulling them back to your recent position, but Simon had grabbed your legs and put them back into his lap mumbling something like “You’ll get cramp” but the way his fingers brushed against the skin of your calves made a fire inside you ignite. Maybe it was from the lack of touch from someone but it was all you could think about the entire night until he left to go back home. 

When he returned to your house a couple days after, you kissed him. It was a rushed decision but the way he kissed you back made you realise that he wanted this as much as you. 

From there on out, your relationship got more physical. You would grab him as soon as he walked through the door. Him scooping you up into his arms, dropping the things in his hands to the ground in the process.    

A month and a half later, you were in bed. Legs spread with a head settled in between them. Your hands gripped onto his dirty blonde strands as he ran his tongue up your sopping cunt. “Fuck Si-”  you moaned as he sucked on your clit making you buck your hips and push his head further down onto you. You felt as if you were in heaven, floating on a cloud as he devoured you.    

Well you were in heaven until you heard knocking at the door. That fucking door will be the death of you. 

“Ignore it” Simon grunts before pushing two thick digits into you, making you hum and forget about anything for the moment. 

The doorbell started to ring and you huffed angrily. “It's him” you groaned while covering your face with your hands but Simon continued to swirl his tongue, happily lapping you up. 

You weren't going to be able to come like this. “Simon stop” you say regretfully and he pulls his fingers from you making you whine at the loss of them. 

You had to deal with this or else you’ll never do it. Sighing, you get up off the bed and put on your robe. Before leaving the haven of your room, you press a kiss to Simon's lips “We’ll continue this when I get back” you feel him smile against your lips before slapping your ass and falling onto his back on the mattress. 

You pick up the documents on the kitchen counter and walk to the front door where John stands. He looked rough but you didn’t care as you shoved the envelope at him. 

“Make sure you sign them John”   

He held them in his hand and looked up at you with sorrowful eyes. “Sweetheart, is there anything I can do to save this. Please”  

“No John, I never will listen to anything you have to say ever again” your voice had no emotion in it, you were done. Finally done. 

You heard footsteps behind you and felt a kiss was placed on the top of your head. John looked shocked at the sight of Simon but nodded to himself “I’ll sign them” he sounded broken and you felt a sense of relief. 

Before he left, he looked to Simon and spoke once more “Look after her will you?” you felt Simon pull you softly backwards and stood in the doorway blocking you from view. “I’ll do a lot more than you ever have” is all he says before slamming the door and locking it. 

He turns around with a smile decorating his face and mischievous glint in his eye. “Now that's dealt with.  Where were we?” you grin before sprinting back into the bedroom to continue what was so rudely interrupted. 

Tags: @knightofsexyness, @sleepyoriana @odettecigno @thigh-o-saur @blackhawkfanatic @hotvinimon @ghostlypatrolstranger, @nadinesabre, @v1x3n, @dakotapaigelove, @butchers-girl, @mayadarlings <3 <3

#captain john price x reader #price x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty

[euno11a]

i just saw your post about reader who can’t make themselves cum and ugh i love it, especially because i feel like no one ever talks about or includes it. anyways i would love to hear your thoughts on reader who has a hard time cumming, especially during sex no matter how good it feels

I fell that it’s honestly really important to talk about it to let people know that they aren’t alone. And I’m so glad you liked it :)

It is scientifically proven that men can cum easier during sex than women. It’s mostly because women have complex bodies, what works for one person might not work for the other. So when figuring out your own body, it’s important to keep in mind that your body is unique compared to others.

this wasn’t the first time that you’d been sprawled out in bed with Simon pleasing you. He kissed up and down your body, caressed every inch of you, even stopped for a little to rest his head on your chest and make sure you were nice and relaxed. You two had been on this journey together for a little while now, trying to figure out what you like and how he can make his pretty cum. He had tried many things, using his tongue, light pressure on your clit, firmer pressure, no pressure and just stimulating your g-spot, stimulating your g-spot and your clit, adding nipple play to see if that made you more sensitive; but even if it felt good, your body wouldn’t let yourself go.

at first, Simon thought it was because he wasn’t good enough. That he just lost his touch and that he wasn’t doing enough for you. But when you comforted him and explained how you’d been like this since you could remember, it made him feel better and worse. Alright, he wasn’t a complete failure and could still make you cum…but why hasn’t he? Every time you two had sex or just did foreplay, he would make sure to take all the time in the world to get you really nice and wet for him. He would use his fingers to curl inside you and touch that spot to make you mewl and arch your back off the mattress. But you still couldn’t cum. You were in the middle of him thrusting into you, feeling how his cock would twitch gently inside you, his fingers working your clit. Left side, right side, hood of it, right on it, pinching it gently, but all it would do is make you feel more pleasure that lead to nothing but a dead end.

you buried your head into his neck and let out small whimpers as he kept his movements steady. After another 15 minutes, that’s when the whimpers turned into silent sobs. Your body jerked a little as you cried, tears gliding down your cheeks and onto his bare shoulder. His head leaned down against yours and held you tightly, gently sliding your of you to hold you in his lap. You cried softly, neither of you talking, but both knowing what was wrong. “I don’t like being broken…” you said through little cries, voice soft and hoarse. But you were cut off by Simon shaking his head and cupping your face to press small kisses against the apples of your cheeks.

“Yer not broken, love. Y’just different. Just because we don’t know how t’make you cum just yet doesn’t mean my sweet girl is broken.” His words were soft against your ear as he caressed your head, another time failed.

as time passed, you began losing hope. It’s fair, thinking you just can’t do it because something inside is wrong or maybe you just weren’t cut out to be able to feel that pleasure everyone talks about. You started to notice how Simon even began refusing any type of pleasure. Handjob? No thanks, love. Maybe a blowjob cause you had a stressful day? Nope, but I do need cuddles, sweet girl. He was refusing your love. While he sat in his home office finishing some paperwork, you walked in quietly, staring at him as he stared down at the paper, pushing up his glasses. The glasses that you finally got him to buy because he kept complaining about the television being too hard to see and the news on his phone is too small. Thank god you did though, he looked bloody hot in them. Scooting your way into his office, you stood in front of his desk, catching his attention. “Somethin’ ya need, love?”

your cheeks burned as he looked at you, but you couldn’t get distracted! “Why are you refusing my love?”

it was clear the question caught him off guard by the way he paused, mouth slightly agape as he looked at you. “I’m not refusin’ your love. What makes you say that?”

“Wha-…? Yes you are! Every time I offer you a blowjob or a handjob, you say no. Am I doing something wrong? Does it not feel good? Do you…do you not like me anymore?”

he could hear your little heart shatter in that last question, standing up from his chair and walking over to you. He grabs you hands and sits on his desk, pulling you towards him. “I fucking love you. Neve think for a minute that I stopped loving you. I’m refusing to let you do any of tha’ because I don’t think it’s fair to ye. Not fair that my sweet girl has to endure not bein’ able to cum, so m’not gonna either.” He says while looking straight into your eyes, his thick and calloused fingers pushing some hair behind your ear. “Won’t cum until you can.”

while you thought he was refusing your live, he was actually doing it because he didn’t want you to feel left out? This man looked like a scary man, but he was the most thoughtful and caring teddy bear ever. “What if I never do, though?”

“Then neither will I.” He spoke seriously. “Understand?”

the small nod you give him is enough acknowledgement for him, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Now, I was doin’ some research, and I found that most women can’t reach an orgasm without some help. So, what do ya think ‘bout lookin’ for some toys with me, eh?”

#simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #smut imagine #ghost smut #smut headcanons #smut writing #smut fanfiction #plus sized reader #cod x reader #x reader #female reader #simon riley x female reader

[princessbrunette]

john b had these big firm hands.

not because you’d been studying them or anything, you just very quickly learnt this about him when you’d joined the group — the way the other pogues would complain about aches and knots in their back only to have it quickly resolved by the brunette. with the little crush you’d developed on him, you’d find yourself complaining more and more about your own pains — perhaps when on your period or after a long day, and he’d be happy to help you. that’s what he did, he was a problem solver.

what you failed to realise is how much john b enjoyed it too.

in a general sense, sure. like mentioned, he liked to help people and fix everyone’s problems for them— and being such an active group, it was often physical pains causing them strife. whether it would be a knuckle in popes calf or an elbow in jj’s shoulder, they were appreciative.

“you should be like, studying to do this for a living bro. you got a gift.” the blonde would comment after john b had cracked his shoulder, to which the brunette would shrug it off with a—

“yeah, like i can afford that.”

you don’t realise, but soon enough the routledge boy starts to pay a little more attention to you specifically, and no one knows or cares why enough to comment on it. he’d started to ask, instead of waiting for you to complain about it. asking ‘does this hurt? does this hurt?’ as he moves you in different positions because he thought you looked ‘a little stiff’ that day.

you liked it. you liked holding his attention. john b was the leader, somehow the main character in everyone’s life— so you revelled in the attention he’d give you whilst playing the group chiropractor. it made you feel special when he singled you out.

he seemed to have this belief, that you were way more tense than anyone else in the group. he’d hooked his fingers into the idea that because you happened to have anxiety, your body would too suffer. this might’ve been true, maybe you were more tense than everyone and it showed— probably naturally less comfortable around the group seeing as you were the newest addition, but the likelihood was that john b had only convinced you and everyone else of this because he just adored getting his hands on you.

he likes the way your skin feels soft compared to the callous palms and nicked fingertips of his own. he likes the way the fat of your flesh moulds and succumbs to his touch. he likes the way he’s developed enough natural strength over the years to manoeuvre you any which way he wanted, his own warm little rag doll for the time being that sent his imagination running rampant when he’d put you in more vulnerable positions. he loved the way your brows would furrow when he’d crack the right spot or dig his hands in the right place at the right pressure. the way your lips would part with a little whimper when there’s an audible crack.

his voice was what made it enjoyable for you a lot of the time. not that it didn’t feel great, but john b had a ‘talk you through it’ kind of voice. warm, kind, comforting, rumbles in your ear when he’s slotted up behind you, performing his magic until you click somewhere you didn’t think you could.

“how we feeling? hm?” he’d ask, and you could hear the casual smile in his tone without looking, a face that you didn’t have to look at with your eyes to know it was there because you’d seen it so many times.

his cock would always twitch when you’d respond. the prettiest, whiny tone when you were especially relaxed and off guard, a tone that even had jj’s ears perking up from across the room occasionally. “feels so good, john b.” now you didn’t have to say his name, too.

he told himself it was normal to feel that way about a friend as long as there was a boundary. you were pretty, and soft— he’d be a fool not to find that attractive. what he did feel guilty about, was the indulgence. it wasn’t gentlemanly of him, something he prided himself on being. he couldn’t let anyone know he’d continue the fantasy later on, replaying your satisfied mewls in his brain like a broken record, the sounds morphing and twisting, moulding like clay in the hands of his imagination as he attempts to twist it into sounds of sex. he can still feel the heat of your skin beneath his hands through his minds eye, but this time he’d be pushing your lower back down to make you arch as you take his dick deeper.

he recalls the squishiness of your thighs that one time he worked the knots out, and this time uses the memory to fuel the thought of pushing your thighs up against you whilst nuzzling his nose against your clit and lapping up the juices you’d leaked from him rubbing on your body prior. he hears it again, “feels so good, john b.” but this time your head is thrown back, your tits are spilling from that little bra that peeks from your shirts, your clits throbbing against his tongue.

he makes a mess on his fist each night he thinks about it, and wonders how often he can get away with touching you up under the guise of a massage.

#john b prompt

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝗺𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗰 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗰𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀 | 𝘲𝘩43 ❀

➪ summary: trying to go to the bathroom, her boyfriend's brothers and friend stop her to make cupcakes at midnight

➪ warnings: none :)

➪ word count: 1.2k

➪ file type: fic; sequel to white girl music (or standalone if choose to be)

➪ sunny's notes: the first new fic i'm posting on here!! this can be read as a standalone but also can be read as a sequel to 'white girl music'. this is not something i thought i would be writing but once my mom and i watched anyone but you again i had to write something about hockey boys screaming unwritten.

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It was late at night and all you wanted to do when you exited your room was to go to the bathroom and return. But, then you heard whispers of your name from down the hallway. When you turned you saw Jack peeking around from one of the doorways, Luke and Trevor’s heads above him. You raised an eyebrow, “Yes boys?”

“Come make cupcakes with us?” The three of them gave you the best puppy dog eyes that they could muster and you sighed, “It’s almost midnight you three.”

The three of them had always seen you as an older sister figure, sometimes even referring to you as a second mom despite your closeness in age. When Quinn first introduced you to not only his brothers but Trevor as well, you were shy. You didn’t really talk at all and they rarely ever saw you without Quinn by your side. But as the years went on, you became more like yourself around the boys, laughing at the worst times, and making random jokes. They quickly “adopted” you into their little family. 

Which is why you always find yourself in the most unpredicted circumstances with them. Usually, it was playing a prank on your boyfriend or going on late-night drives to get them food or even just going shopping with them and fooling around in the stores with them. Tonight seemed to be no exception. 

“Please please please please please.” 

“Fine.”

They cheered but were quickly silenced by the look on your face, “But be quiet. Quinn’s sleeping.”

They grumbled a bit, yet made their way as silently as possible to the kitchen to start collecting the ingredients they needed. You maneuvered around the kitchen, preheating the oven and finding the cupcake tins. You caught the tail end of Trevor’s mischievous look and sighed, “What are you doing?”

He only ignored you and started playing music on his phone and once California Girls came on, you knew it only had to have been the white girl playlist that they had found a couple of months ago. You playfully rolled your eyes, “Just keep it down, Trevor.”

“Yes, mom.”

Halfway through making the cupcakes, you heard the boys start to sing along with the current song that was on, Call Me Maybe. Then you saw them start to do the dance from the Harvard Baseball team video. You shook your head but couldn’t help yourself when she started to sing along a little too. You were still relatively quiet, not wanting to wake Quinn up from the noise. The boys, however, only took this as an invitation to start to sing louder. 

As the next song started to play, you warned them once again to lower their voices. But, even you couldn’t stop yourself from singing Love You Like A Love Song a little bit louder. You started to feel more comfortable and awake and started to dance around with the boys, the bowl and whisk still in your hands as you moved across the floor. 

They all started laughing after a small thing of batter flew off the whisk and landed on Jack’s shirt. Jack pouted a little, sad his shirt had gotten a little dirty, but then shrugged and lifted his shirt to eat the batter off of it and continued singing like nothing had happened. He proceeded to grab the other whisk that was in the kitchen and used it as a fake microphone to sing into. 

Unwritten started playing and they shared looks before practically yelling out the lyrics. The cupcakes were long forgotten as everything sat on the counter and the four were each holding something different to use as a microphone - Jack the whisk, Trevor a rolling pin, Luke a wooden spoon, and you a spatula. Once the music started to become louder and more upbeat, they were full on screaming. 

Meanwhile, Quinn tossed and turned in his bed, hearing faint chatter, and just assumed that his brothers were playing Mario Kart a little too late again. He laid face down on the bed as he reached his right arm out to wrap around your waist but frowned when all he felt was a small pile of bed sheets instead. That’s when he heard the voices getting louder, mumbling curses to himself as he got out of bed. 

He rubbed his eyes as he made his way down the stairs, each step closer to the kitchen. Once he turned the corner after the stairs he immediately flinched at the noise, “FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN!”

His eyes widened and he walked into the kitchen, trying to comprehend the scene in front of him. Jack was dancing on the island and the three of you danced around it, still singing your hearts out. When the song ended he cleared his throat and all four heads snapped to him. Your eyes softened and immediately started apologizing, “I am so so so sorry baby. I was just going to the bathroom and then they asked if I wanted to make cupcakes and they used the puppy dog eyes so I couldn’t really say no. I tried to get them to be quiet but Trevor put on the playlist and well…”

He smiled a little, happy that you were getting along with his brothers and Trevor, “I’m glad you’re…” He trailed off, “having fun, but it is almost 1:30 in the morning and the closest thing I see to a cupcake is the batter in the bowl.”

You blushed and looked down at your hands as the boys groaned, “I forgot about the cupcakes.”

In truth though, they weren’t that mad. They were able to persuade you to hang out with them and were able to spend an hour and a half listening to music and dancing around the kitchen with you. Sure it was a little late, but it was fine in hindsight, they had nothing to do and plenty of time to fix their sleep schedule before the season started.  

Quinn eyed the three, “Alright, the two of us are going to bed and you can either finish making the cupcakes or clean up.”

They groaned once again, “We won’t be able to do it without her.”

“You were barely able to do it with her, no offense baby.” He kissed your temple as he brought you into his arms, your back flush with his chest. 

You giggled at his response and watched as the boys slowly got to work, not sure if they were trying to clean up or finish making them. Quinn then pulled you up to your guys’ bedroom, flopping down on the bed. You followed suit, curling up next to him, “I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s okay, I’ll live. But I am never letting you live this down.”

“That’s okay, I still remember the time I came home from work and you, Jack, and Luke were listening to Selena Gomez.”

He threw his head back and laughed, “Of course you remember. Now go to bed, baby.”

“If we hear smoke alarms soon, I’m blaming you.”

“Why?”

“Because I can.”

⬂ 𝗩𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗼𝘂𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗖𝗮𝗻𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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[entirelysein-e]

『 Becoming his princess 』

☼ synopsis: Toji was obsessed with making you his sweet anal princess - entirely drunk on his cock stretching you so well.

☼ character: Toji

☼ wc: 3.2k

☼ cw: fem!reader, anal play, (first time) anal, Toji talking the reader into trying something new and pushing boundaries, consent checks, sex toys, lots of teasing and praise, reader getting called "good girl" and "princess", overstimulation, creampie, mentions of fingering, gentle aftercare

☼ notes: welcome to the depths of my brain when it comes to this man. Thank you @suyacho and @kenpachisbrat for letting me write this in chat! 🫶 | don't forget to sign up for my taglist so you won't miss a post!

Toji had always been an ass man, that much was clear. Whenever you two were cuddling on the couch or making out, his broad hands always found their way to the globes of your ass. You didn't mind it, you were actually starting to enjoy it, but lately he started to push you further. The talk of trying out anal came up, which you quickly turned down. Your ass was a one-way route, exit only and the thought about having Tojis cock in there made your skin crawl in all the wrong ways. Without another choice, Toji didn't bring up the topic again, but he didn't stop to feel you up either since you never expressed any issues with it previously, so why not push your boundaries a little?

The next time he had you on all fours, he grinned dirty when his tongue dragged through your drenched folds, eating you out like a man starved, but instead of sinking his tongue into your cunt to have more of your juices melt on his tongue, he dragged it further up to tongue at your puckered hole for just a second. The foreign sensation made you squeak and move away before giving him an angry glare, to which he only feigned innocence, hands held up high, but that wolfish grin on his lips gave it away. “Just couldn't stop myself, darling. Won't happen again,” he promised, half assed but he meant it. You made it clear that you didn't like it and he wouldn't push it - at least not with his tongue. In reality, you weren't sure about how you felt about it, that big taboo clouded your judgment because it actually didn't feel that bad when his wet tongue toyed with your ass, but you shook your head, the thought gone as quickly as it came. Perhaps you'd let him indulge in his little fantasies when you're fucked dumb on his cock, at least that way you won't be able to think about it too much.

Toji was caught by surprise when you nodded softly as he was running his thumb over your puckered hole, his dick buried deep in your cunt. “Want me to push it in, hm?” He asked with a teasing smirk, but that was his mistake, he made you think about it. Unsure about it, you groaned into the pillows, your face buried in the plush fabric, while your hips were high and working to meet his thrusts. “Don’t ask me like that... That's weird,” you mumbled between breathless moans and he made a mental note about putting you in this position again next time, simply putting his hand back onto the globe of your ass as he continued to fuck you into the mattress. Once again, your mind was clouded with the taboo you almost explored and perhaps you just needed to talk with him? Let him know that you're simply nervous about it and his teasing isn't helping - quite the opposite, actually.

"Why do I want to fuck your ass?” Toji repeated your question, the heat rising to your face upon hearing his words that were followed by a chuckle.

“Because that's hot and feels good. For both of us, if it's done right,” he eventually answered nonchalantly, and you nodded.

“Would you do it then? The right way, I mean, so it feels good? But please stop your teasing it's-” Your words started flooding out, rambling in your nervous and slightly embarrassed state, but the black-haired man interrupted you.

“You're rambling, my sweet,” he grinned and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss that left you wanting more. His lips always left you addicted, wiping your head empty and filling it solely with him.

“Let me make you feel good.” His words sent shivers down your spine and you absentmindedly nodded, allowing him to give you that sweet taste of pleasure you both craved now. In an instant, he pulled you across the couch and onto his lap, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as his hands roamed over your back and your sides as your lips collided in a heated make-out session.

It only took a few minutes until his hands discarded your shirt, his skin hot against your bare chest, when he kissed down your neck to leave love bites along the way. A raspy moan escaped your throat when his teeth tugged at one of your nipples before his tongue immediately lapped over it to soothe the sting. The mix of pain and gentle caress almost drove you insane. Shaky hands started pulling at his jet black strands when his lips left soothing kisses scattered across the valley of your chest. Lost in the feeling of his lips and tongue against your breast, you barely noticed how he picked you up to carry you to the bedroom, ever so gently setting you down on the mattress, where his warmth left your body for just a moment.

"One word and we stop," he whispered into your ear when he returned to his position on top of you again, dragging your favorite toy - a small magic wand - across the inside of your bare thigh, the lowest setting already letting your skin tingle deliciously, but you nodded. "Hmm, yes," you verbally confirmed when he removed the toy from your leg, an expectant look on his face. "That's my good girl. Using her words for me," he muttered against your skin and rewarded you by letting the toy glide over your already slick folds. Soft moans erupted almost instantly, the pleasure was near overwhelming.

His fingers soon joined the toy, the vibration taking your focus away as he dragged them between your folds without dipping them in, instead letting them glide lower between your cheeks. The lube was almost dripping off of them when he started massaging your puckered hole with his middle finger. Eyes full of insecurity shot up at him when you felt him slowly push inside, but not enough to slip past the tight ring of muscles yet.

Your hands started to claw at his arm, trying to stop him and he leaned down to capture your lips in a kiss once again, the vibrations against your clit getting more intense.

"Color?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft and you struggled to answer him between moans "ye-yellow." The words eventually slipped out and he hummed in acknowledgment - You didn't say red, so it was okay to continue.

His lips returned to yours as the magic wand remained teasing your bundle of nerves until a gasp escaped your mouth. Toji couldn't hold back the smirk against your lips at how cute your reaction was, his finger slotted deeply inside your ass, unmoving.

Only when you started desperately grinding against the wand did you register his finger inside of you and a desperate "green" left your lips, almost in a scream. You were on the verge of an orgasm and all your previous little worries didn't exist. Your mind was feeling as light as a feather when he pushed a second finger in right before the vibration of the toy gave you that sweet release you were so desperately chasing after. Toji groaned when he felt you clench around him, so tight just with his fingers inside of you that it made his erection grow painful, but he had to wait. His fingers kept pumping into you, curling and scissoring them to stretch you further. The foreign feeling started to feel good and Toji was able to see the change in your eyes.

It was exactly how he planned this to go, making you feel so good and making you lose your mind with pleasure as he pushed your boundaries until you're begging him to fuck your little ass.

"Be my good girl and turn around," he mused and slowly pulled out of you, which made you whine. You felt so pathetic when that noise escaped your throat, but you did as told, wanting this high back you felt moments ago. The orgasm was more intense than usual.

"Atta girl," his voice was raspy as the need in him grew from seeing you in such a vulnerable position for him - laying on your stomach with your hips held high just for him.

Your slick folds were on full display for him as he let some more lube drip onto your puckered hole, chuckling when you flinched from the cool liquid. "Careful, it's cold," he teased, warning you far too late, but before you could react to his words, another toy pushed against your hole. Unsure where he even got it, you braced yourself and Toji held the magic wand against your wet cunt once more, trying to help you relax for him.

The plug slid in surprisingly easy and you looked over your shoulders at your lover with doe eyes, feeling so good but scared at the same time. The metal object made you feel full, stretching your insides while his thumb slid into your pussy to massage your g-spot until he had you right where he wanted to again. All the stimulation tightened the knot inside of you at record speed, threatening to snap the next time his thumb pushed against your sweet spot, but it never came. Instead, Toji removed his finger and started moving the anal plug, the buzzing of the toy against your clit finally taking you over the edge a second time.

Your muscles sucked the plug back in, clenching tightly around it, which made you feel so full already and it only made you crave more. The black-haired man knew exactly what he was doing, corrupting you, making you crave having your ass filled with his cock and it was working.

When the shocks of pleasure wore off, Toji continued playing with the plug inside of you, pulling and pushing - he wanted you to whine, to admit how good it felt to you. He broke you down slowly but surely and you enjoyed it. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly when you started pushing back into him, breathless moans falling from your lips and getting swallowed by the pillows beneath you.

“What was that?” He asked teasingly and at the same time, he pulled the little metal plug out of you.

“You want my fingers again?” His voice sounded menacing, having heard your plea for his fingers perfectly well.

“Fuck- Toji… Just finger me already,” you snapped embarrassed, wanting him to work you open so you could finally feel his cock inside of you.

You were always so drunk on his cock, craving it inside of you in one way or another and the thought of having him fill yet another hole of yours started to excite you rather than scare you. His chuckle sounded mean, but you didn't bother focusing on it when two of his thick fingers pushed into your ass once again, this time with ease.

“You take me so well, darling. Gonna make you my little anal princess, hm? Want me to fuck your ass so badly?” He started to mock you, his voice laced with amusement with every whine of pleasure you provided him with and you didn't need to answer him. The way you bit your lip absentmindedly at his words was enough for him to know you wanted this as badly as he did now.

Thoughtful as he was, Toji turned the little wand on again to help you relax because his fingers were nothing compared to the girth of his dick and it would hurt. Both his fingers remained inside of you as he used his other hand to slick up his cock with the lube, using a generous amount to make things easier for you.

“Ready to be my little princess?” He asked with a smirk as he pulled his fingers out painfully slow, the tip of his dick now kissing your puckered hole, and slowly he pushed in, never enough to slip even the tip inside of you. He wanted to hear you beg for him, beg him to fuck your sweet little ass. He needed you to beg him to ruin you completely, claim your body fully and never be satisfied with another man ever again.

The anticipation his endless teasing brought drove you insane, the vibration against your pussy wasn't strong enough to give you the pleasure you craved and you knew that you needed him inside of you to cum again, needed to have him ruin you to find pleasure.

"To-ji,” his name was cut in half by a whimper when just his tip slipped into your puckered hole, only to disappear again.

“Just fu- just fuck me already,” you almost screamed it, shame sitting deep inside of you at having to beg him to finally take you from behind, but he made you taste poison and you liked it.

“As you wish,” a wolfish grin spread over his lips and a single thrust was all it took for him to be settled inside of you, his heavy balls slapping against your wet cunt in the process.

Your eyes opened wide at the intrusion, unsure if it hurt or felt good - you just felt full. Feeling you clench around him like a vice was almost painful to him, but he granted you time to get used to the feeling.

“Taking me so well. So good for me.” His words were soothing, kisses against your spine helped you relax further, but when he turned the wand higher again, your hips jerked up, letting you feel him so much deeper inside of you. A high-pitched moan left your lips, almost a yelp, but it was filled with a foreign sense of pleasure. Your walls stopped gripping Toji’s cock like a vice, giving him the opportunity to finally move inside of you. His thrusts were slow but deep, his hips rolling against yours to make you feel each thrust dragging along your walls. The overwhelming feeling of being so unusually full, paired with the strong vibration against your already overly sensitive bundle of nerves had you panting like a bitch in heat, your hips bucking into him and helplessly humping the wand.

“Ah, ah. You'll cum from my cock, princess,” Toji ordered and removed the toy from your pussy.

A loud whine of protest escaped your lips, but it turned into one of pleasure when he rolled his hips particularly hard, catching you off guard by how good it felt. You were so close, but it was never enough to take you over the edge. The feeling of Toji's cock in your ass was too foreign and intense to snap that knot inside of your stomach - or at least that's what you thought. Toji slumped over you, no longer able to hold up his weight entirely as he caged you in, his huge body forcing your hips down against the mattress so he had you in prone bone.

The simple change of position made you feel so small compared to your lover, his hot breaths and grunts driving you insane and before you knew it, you were clawing into the pillows, chanting his name like a lewd prayer as another orgasm washed over you. "Fuck! That's my good girl," Toji praised, his voice deep and strained from the way you clenched around his cock, so hard he could barely thrust into you anymore, but that's exactly what he liked. Your little ass was just so perfect for him and no one else ever made you feel this way. It gave him the biggest ego boost with the way you were singing so pretty for him.

Your ears were ringing from the intensity of your orgasm, barely able to hear the praise that fell from your lover's lips, only the strangled moan followed by harsh pants when he finally released inside of you. Unable to help it, you whined loudly. The feeling of his cum filling you up made you realize that it would be over soon and you didn't want this ecstatic feeling to end yet, not when you just started enjoying it. Your pathetic whine made Toji chuckle, his black hair tickling your shoulder as he shook his head.

"You're so damn greedy, you know that?" He asked amused and pulled your hips into him so he could slide the magic wand between your pussy and the mattress once again, the highest setting buzzing against your clit. "To-ji," you moaned his name, "too much." Your voice was hoarse, but he didn't listen. The feeling of your ass clenching tightly around his cock was drowning out your little sounds of protest. "Stop crying and fucking cum," he groaned into your ear, an order you knew you should follow. You could have told him "red," but you didn't, craving the feeling of yet another orgasm even if your overstimulated clit screamed for mercy.

When you finally reached your peak, Toji was hissing into your ear as you milked him dry, trying to get every drop of his seed into your greedy body. "You're doing so good for me. Took me so well." His voice was soft, uncharacteristically sweet, even when the wand slowly lost the intensity until he shut it off entirely. Your clit still twitching from the intense vibration it just felt and all you could do was nod. You were his good girl, his sweet little anal princess and he was so proud of you.

Carefully, Toji slipped out of you, his hands spreading your cheeks to see your hole gape from the previous intrusion and it was a sight he could certainly get used to. There was a grin on his face when he watched his cum run down to your still-glistening cunt, a finger following the trail of white liquid.

“I should make sure that your little pussy doesn't feel neglected, don't you think?" Toji mused out, a single finger pushing some of his seed into your entrance, but you shook your head. "Red." The word left your lips in a mumble and he immediately stopped teasing you.

"Let's take a bath then, or you'll regret it in the morning," he said matter-of-factly before scooping you up into his arms and throwing you over his shoulder, which never fails to make you laugh. It was such a silly thing to him, but you looked like you needed more gentle aftercare this time, so a bath and some cuddles after would do it.

"How're ya feelin'?" Toji's voice was gentle now as his arms wrapped around you and his head rested on top of yours, bodies surrounded by hot water.

"'m good. A bit sore, to be honest," you mumbled back to him, your head resting against his broad chest, adoring just how caring he can be if he wants to.

"You'll get used to it. The first always is worst, but you seemed to enjoy it regardless," he pointed out, a shit-eating grin spreading over his lips and you could hear it in his voice.

"Just shut up, Fushiguro." You laughed softly and bit his arm in a playful way. But he was right - you did enjoy it and perhaps you'll let him have both holes next time.

#-ˋˏ ༻luma's musings #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji x reader #toji smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji x you #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #💫hotter than the sun💫

[stayteezdreams]

Let Me Love You

Plot: You and Wooyoung are meant to be, at least he thought so. So why are you so determined to refuse him?

Pairing: Idol!Jung Wooyoung x Make Up Artist!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Request: Wooyoung + “Why wont you let me love you?”

Requested by: @hanni-bae44

Warnings/Notes: Use of Y/n multiple times. Kissing. Angsty/Emotional for most of it.

Words: ~2.8k

"I like you Y/n, like I really, really like you."

"...I know."

"I don't think I've ever met someone so perfect for me."

"Wooyoung."

"You know we're meant to be together right?"

"I- I cant, we can't."

"What do you mean? You feel the same as me...don't you?"

"....No."

Wooyoung chest was tight as the memory replayed in his head. Your words and actions didn't match, it made no sense. It was tearing him up inside. Because he knew you liked him, you had too. If you didn't then what was everything the two of you had been through?

The hours spent together, the flirting, the stolen glances, the unspoken conversations, the moments of eye contact that lasted way too long, the dates you labelled as "hang-outs". The gentle touches both of you pretended didn't happen.

Pulling out his phone he read over the last text he sent you asking to meet up three days prior. You saw it, but hadn't replied.

Tossing his phone onto the table he let out a frustrated sigh. What was going on?

Biting the inside of his cheek he shook his head, standing and grabbing his phone again. Determined to figure out what was going on.

Your apartment was quiet as you scrolled through your phone, your mind constantly returning to Wooyoung's message. You wanted to see him, but you knew it was a bad idea. It was best to distance yourself before things got too serious.

Others at the company began getting suspicious about your relationship with Wooyoung. Any time you were together others eyed you, many giving you dirty or disappointed looks. Whispers followed you anytime you were near him.

Things were often tight-lipped at the company. If an idol was dating a staff member, other's wouldn't be allowed to say anything. But that didn't mean they always followed those rules. And a scandal was the last thing you wanted to cause for Wooyoung and the company. He would deal with the backlash and punishment from the company, and you would probably be fired, or transferred. And it would be your fault.

Wooyoung didn't seem to be bothered by the idea, by the conflict it could cause. The problems for him, or for you. So you had to be the one to deal with it, you had to be the one to protect him, by hurting the both of you. So you pushed away your feelings, and pulled away from him.

You had already started to distance yourself when Wooyoung suddenly confessed to you. It broke your heart to walk away from him, to reject his confession, when you wanted nothing more than to tell him you felt the same.

Looking at the nearby coffee table you smiled to yourself at the stack of boardgames. Wooyoung came over a few nights a week when he could, for game night. You would often spend hours playing games, sometimes the other's would come as well, turning it into a slumber party.

On the nearby mirror, polaroid photos were pinned around the edges. Many of you and your friends, many of you and Wooyoung. Everyone assumed you were best-friends. But you weren't, not really, you were something...else. Something between best-friends and lovers, but neither. An 'almost' something.

You jolted when a sudden knock echoed through your apartment. Glancing at the clock, you frowned. You hadn't ordered any food, why would someone be here at seven in the evening?

Walking to the door, you checked who was there and your heart skipped a beat. Wooyoung was standing outside your door, obviously antsy as he seemed to bounce around on his feet.

Taking a step away from the door, you brought your hand to your chest as your breathing became uneven.

He knocked again and you held your breath. You heard an audible sigh from the other side of the door.

"Y/n, open up! I know you're in there I heard you walk up to the door!"

You closed your eyes and cursed to yourself. Did he actually hear you, or was it a bluff?

He knocked again. "If you don't answer I'll stay here all night!" As his voice got louder you internally groaned, not wanting him to disturb your neighbors.

Reaching for the door, you pulled it open just as he was about to knock again. Wooyoung let out a breath as his eyes fell on you and your disgruntled face.

If he wasn't upset he would find it adorable.

Without letting you speak he walked past you and into your apartment. You closed your eyes briefly as you took in a deep breath and closed the door.

"What are you doing here Wooyoung?"

He spun around and let out a deep breath. "Why are you running from me?"

You remained silent, unsure of what to say. He let out a frustrated sigh as he began pacing.

"I don't understand how we could go from being so close and obviously interested in each other, to you distancing yourself and rejecting me as though you hate me."

You flinched at his words. You would never hate him, you could never hate him. But maybe it was best if he thought you did.

"I'm sorry I made you think I felt the same."

Wooyoung stopped and stared at you his eyes wide. "What do you mean?"

"We ar- were friends Wooyoung. If you thought I had feelings for you, you were wrong, and I'm sorry for whatever I did that made you think I felt the same as you. But I don't."

He stared at you as his face slowly dropped, making your heart ache. Shaking his head he walked up to you, setting his hands on your shoulders and staring into your eyes.

"You're lying, I know you are. I just don't understand why."

You let out a frustrated sigh, "Why come here if you aren't going to listen to anything I say?"

"Because I know you feel the same! I know it."

"You know nothing!"

He jumped at the volume of your voice, he had never heard it so loud, so angry. There were tears edging your eyes and he frowned. Why were you lying to him? You knew he could tell you were lying, but why were you being so persistent? What happened?

Pushing his hands away from you you grabbed your door handle and opened the door. "I think you should leave Wooyoung."

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when your eyes seemed to be pleading to him.

He let out a sad sigh, his own eyes burning with the threat of tears. Walking past you and out into the hall he looked back at you one more time as you closed the door, your broken voice sending him away with heartbreak.

"Don't come back here again."

Wooyoung stood outside your door for what felt like an hour, tears eventually falling as he realized he had lost you. The confusion and hurt made his chest tight with pain. What had happened? Why did he confess? Why did he ruin what you had? Why were you so determined to lie about your own feelings? Did someone say something? Someone at the company?

Eventually walking away, his heart was heavy and heartbroken, but his stubborn determination still clung on. He was not giving up, not on you, not now, not ever.

Wooyoung's eyes were following you around the room as you set up your makeup station. Everyone was preparing for a shoot and it was the first time Wooyoung had seen you in a week.

His heart ached as he watched you, refusing to even look in his direction. His heart leapt when someone told him to got to your station to get his makeup done. He shouldn't have been surprised, you were always the one to do his makeup. You were often referred to as 'his' makeup artist, even if you did the other's makeup as well.

He saw your disdained reaction before you got back to arranging the makeup. As Wooyoung sat down in your chair his eyes never left your face, watching as you refused to look at him.

Over the last week, he had heard whispers about the two of you. You hung out a lot at the company, but hadn't so much as looked at each other in a week. Everyone was wondering what had happened, but no one was willing to ask.

"Y/n." He said your name softly, noting how you paused for a second before continuing to grab products.

"Y/nnnn" his voice was a bit more whiny this time making you close your eyes and sigh.

Finally looking over at him you saw how pleading his eyes were. Why wasn't he angry with you?

"Just because you don't like me doesn't mean you have to ignore me."

Your chest tightened at his words. You hated how much you hurt him, but you needed to be resolute. You couldn't be as willing to risk his idol image as he seemed to be.

Wooyoung tilted his head slightly as you remained looking at him. He could tell you were battling your own thoughts and feelings. Before he could talk again, you cleared your throat.

"Don't talk anymore, I'm going to start."

He smiled softly as you began doing his makeup, at least you spoke to him, even if it was the politely tell him to shut up.

Your job had never felt worse as you did Wooyoung's makeup. His eyes never left your face, as he scanned your eyes and even your lips multiple times. You knew he wanted to speak, but there were too many other's around you.

You were also aware of the eyes and quiet whispers around you. You and Wooyoung were never this quiet, especially when you were together. His makeup always took the longest because of it. But this time he was the first done.

Finishing up, you set your thing's aside, "You're all done."

Wooyoung leaned closer to you, speaking softly, "Y/n."

Standing up, his voice causing goosebumps, you turned away, "I need to go clean the brushes."

Wooyoung let out a sigh as he watched you leave, he could feel Seonghwa watching him from nearby. He, along with the other's were aware of what happened, and they were just as confused as Wooyoung.

After the shoot, and with some encouragement from the others, Wooyoung walked around the company looking for you.

Finally finding you as you began to leave for the day, he took the chance to steal you away.

You let out a gasp of surprise as Wooyoung sped past you, grabbing your wrist and dragging you along with him as he went.

"What are you doing?" You whispered with a obvious surprise as you looked around to see if anyone saw what was happening.

Entering into a stairwell no one used, Wooyoung cornered you against the door and stared you down.

"I'm not leaving this time. And I wont let you. Not until you explain to me what's going on."

"Wooyoung."

"Why did you lie?"

"Lie about what?"

"That you don't have feelings for me. I know you do, and I know you lied. I just need to know why. Tell me why you wont let me be with you."

You opened your mouth to speak, to push him away harshly, to tell him you weren't lying, but your words died on your lips.

Wooyoung let out a shaky breath as he caressed your cheek with his hand. "You know how I feel. You know I adore you, I'm head over heels for you. I want to be with you more than anything, so why wont you let me? Why won't you let me love you?"

Your felt your lips tremble as his words shook you. You did know those things. You knew he adored you, and you knew you adored him too. You wanted him to love you, and you wanted to love him.

You let out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes briefly, giving in, encouraging yourself to finally tell him why you rejected him.

"It's because you want to be with me more than anything that you are blind to why you can't."

He frowned and you shook your head softly.

"How could you not understand Wooyoung? It doesn't matter that I have feelings for you, or that I adore you too, that I want to be with you too. You hear it all the time Woo. Idols can't date."

Realization hit Wooyoung like a truck as he stared at your sad eyes. That was why? Because of the risk?

He lowered his head and let out a breath. Of course that was it, how could he be so stupid. Even if they didn't have a dating ban, even if you hid you were dating, if you got found out, it would still cause a scandal. It would cause issues for everyone. Him, you, the company. But you would only care about him, about what it would do to him.

Looking up, he met your eyes again. "You rejected me to protect me didn't you. Because you knew I wouldn't care about the risk?"

You remained silent but the way you avoided his eyes told him it was true.

You spoke again, your voice soft. "If we were to date we have to keep it a secret. I don't particularly care about that part, but, it would be stressful wouldn't it? Always having to hide, never getting to go out together easily. And if we got caught? You know how bad it could get. We would be ridiculed, bullied, insulted, we might even be forced apart. Is it really worth it to you?"

Even though your eyes showed your sadness, and your words your concern, Wooyoung couldn't help but smile.

Gently grabbing your face, Wooyoung leaned in, pausing briefly as he met your eyes, before pressing his lips to yours.

Your breath caught as you moved to push him away, but stopped short as he deepened the kiss. Closing your eyes, you found yourself gently grabbing at his arms.

When he pulled away he rested his forehead against yours. "Yes, it's worth it. Anything is worth it if I get to be with you."

His name left your mouth as a whisper, "Wooyoung."

He shook his head softly. "Y/n. You are focusing too much on the bad that could happen. Don't forget all the good things. Even if we have to remain a secret, we would still be together. We could have dates at home, or groups dates where it would look like we're just hanging out. We could find a hundred ways and reasons to be together. And if it was found out, even with all of the hate and ridicule, you know there are those who would support us, defend us, and protect us. Focus on that."

He caressed your cheek again, "I am serious about how I feel about you Y/n. I already talked to the others, I had a meeting with Hongjoong and the managers. They would be blind if they didn't see how I felt about you. Yes it might be hard, but it would be worth it if we could be together, even in secret. Because it tears me apart not being with you at all."

Wooyoung's words shook you. He had thought about it more than you gave him credit. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pressed your forehead against him.

"But what if you regret it?"

"I wont. I promise."

"You don't know that."

He cupped your face, making you look into his eyes. After he gazed at you for a few second, he leaned in, pressing another soft, quick kiss to your lips.

Pulling away he smiled softly, "Maybe I don't know for sure. But what I do know is how I feel about you now. And I know that those feelings wont go away easily. I have enough love for you now, to last a lifetime. So please Y/n, be with me. Let me love you."

You stared into his eyes for a moment, the silence between you so loud your ears were ringing. A small smile finally graced your face as you nodded slowly.

A grin spread across his face "Yeah?"

Giving in completely, your smile widened as you nodded again, "Yeah."

Wooyoung pulled you into a tight hug, you wrapped your arms around him in return. Your heart was pounding and a thousand thoughts and worries rushed through your head, but you didn't care as much about them now, they didn't scare you as much. Not now that Wooyoung understood, and was willing to protect the both of you as best as he could.

Stepping away from you, Wooyoung looked into your face with a bright smile as tears brimmed his eyes. You were sure you looked the same, as he gently cupped your face again before leaning in to kiss you once more.

The future might have it's moments of struggle, but you were confident now, that you would get through it together.

xx End xx

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 9 K Warnings: Angst (like pretty much every chapter so far). ♡THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SMUT ♡: fingering, hand job, P in V, lots of kissing and teasing. Soft!Sirius. Consent is Sexy! Prompt: At the Potter's, Sirius and Reader take a small little detour in the woods. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 50: Love the One You’re With

♡ SMUT UNDER THE CUT ♡

January, 06th, 1977

Spending time with the boys, planning the prank, and exploring the grounds of Potter Manor had been as distracting as you could expect it to be. James had woken you every day at around 10 am for flying –he’d borrowed you one of his old brooms– and even Remus had joined since it wasn’t unspeakably early like normally. 

You hadn’t seen him fly very often, but he was as good as any of the boys. If he trained, he could have even become better than James. He also joined smaller quidditch matches that you played with the boys, and while he hadn’t trained as much as either of you, he had a mean-as-hell arm for beating. You could tell Sirius had a hard time returning his bludgers, you decided not to test your luck and avoided them altogether. Even if Remus seemed to always be checking if you were alert before throwing one your way, they flew so fast, that you barely had time to step out of their trajectory. 

You were thankful that the boys hadn’t tried to talk about what happened further, not even Effie who seemed to always look at you with a small frown on her soft features. As if she wanted to approach you and talk things out but was also refraining from doing so. 

Even James, who tended to be a little too wrapped in his head seemed to be extra considerate, and he was clearly trying to keep you entertained. Be it flying, prank designing, asking you to help him with the letter he would send to Lily, or inventing games for everyone to play, he wasn’t letting anyone have a free moment in which any of you could start moping.

And you were more than thrilled it had been that way, you were still trying to avoid your feelings, pretending as if all of it hadn’t happened wasn’t as hard as you thought it might be outside of the bubble of the cottage, in fact with James being so hell-bent on entertaining all of you, you barely even had time to consider the difference. Besides, there was something else occupying your mind. 

Remus was acting weird again, and you still weren’t sure what was going on with him. You also weren’t enough of a hypocrite to ask him to talk it through with you when you had barely done the same yourself. Either way, you kept your eyes on him often, trying to read his expressions –never his mind thought– to see if you could use body language and wit to understand what was going on with your best friend.

“I’m knackered,” you said as you threw yourself on the sofa. You had been playing all day and Remus and Sirius had been ruthless while trying to throw you and James off your brooms while you chased the snitch. He had won. 

“At least you’ll become better at dodging this way,” James said as he handed you a glass of water and sat beside you. 

“I’m already pretty good at dodging.” 

“You might hold the record of getting hit by the most balls at this point, Starshine,” Sirius said as he sat on the small wooden table in front of you and Prongs. Remus plopped right next to you and sank into the sofa. 

“My arms hurt,” he complained. “Don’t yours?” 

“Nope,” Sirius said, popping the p. Remus might have been stronger, but he wasn’t used to beating almost every day in the same way Sirius was. He never thought he’d be able to boast about having more condition than his best friend the werewolf and he was positively beaming because he wasn’t half as tired as Remus looked. 

You took a sip of the water James had given you and passed it to Remus who looked even thirstier than you felt, he took it gladly, his hands brushing over yours as they normally would. As if his tiredness made him forget why he’d placed a distance between the two (or at least more than normal, you were still closer to him than you were to most people, he was your best friend, after all). 

“Okay, you may rest 5 minutes, then we’re going to see if we find more tadpoles” 

“Prongs, mate, there’s no way in hell I’ll go search for tadpoles, I want a shower and a bed,” Remus said.

“That,” you said as you pointed at Rems. “Actually sounds lovely, we should all do that instead.” 

“No,” Sirius said as he stood up and extended his hand your way. “I want to show you something.” 

“Sirius,” you whined, sinking deeper into the sofa.

“Come on, you’ll love it.”  You pouted. “I can carry you there if you want.” 

You sighed and stood up while grumbling something about wanting to rest for at least just a bit when James took hold of your arm. “But the tadpoles–” 

“Prongs, she’s coming with me now, go write a letter for Lily or whatever.” 

“Without Vixen?” he asked mortified, Remus laughed. 

“Don’t send it until someone sane has checked it, at least.” 

“She can’t continue being your cupid,” Remus added. “You’ll have to sway Lily by yourself.” 

You laughed. “As if he hadn’t asked Sirius all the tips and tricks before hooking up with her.” 

“Not a hook-up,” James corrected. “We’re dating, I’m not like Moony.” 

A pillow hit James’ face after that. “I’m tired, not deaf,” Remus grumbled, he was especially cranky because the moon would be the following day, you had already made arrangements for it. The Potters knew about Remus’ condition and they’d leave the perimeters so you could handle everything by yourselves in your animagi form.

“Well, you’ve never had an actual girlfriend. And you were playing around with that Ravenclaw girl, who by the way, I didn’t like all that much either.” 

“Alice is nice!” you said quickly. She was a little boy crazy and she enjoyed being a free spirit, but she was a good girl, very clever too. 

“I’m not saying she isn’t. But Remus didn’t love her. If anything I’d say he liked you more than he ever liked her.” 

Remus panicked the minute James said that, but it flew right past both you and Sirius. “Well that’s because I’m amazing, Prongs,” you said with a smile and shot him a wink. 

“Not what I meant,” he responded in a more serious tone. 

“How about you all stop discussing my love life and start worrying about your own?” 

“Will you help me with the letters? Maybe you know a poem that could help me sway her.” 

“No,” Remus said dourly.  

“Oh, he knows many,” you teased. 

“I’m still not gonna help him.” 

“But Moony!” Prongs said with a pout and allowed his head to fall on Moony’s legs, he got shoved off shortly after. You laughed, even though something in the back of your mind told you there was something wrong with the entire ordeal. Sirius does that all the time and he never gets more than an annoyed glance, you realised. Then again, James had just insulted Moony, and Moony could be really petty when he wanted to, especially near the moon.

“How about this… I’ll get you one of mom’s relaxing bath bombs, and you help?” Luckily for James, he could be persistent as hell when he wanted to. 

Moony groaned in return and turned to James. “You think you can add something for muscle pain?” 

“Playing again tomorrow helps with that,” Sirius said as he ruffled Remus’ hair, who in turn, shoved his hand off and threw him a spiteful look. “We’ll leave you boys to it then,” he said with a shrug wrapping his hand in yours to pull you along with him. 

“Where are you taking me?” You asked as you reached the door and he grabbed a thick coat, placing it around your shoulders and then placing a hat over your head that was so long you had to push back to be able to see again. Sirius took one of Remus’ coats and placed it around himself. 

“He charmed it, it’s warmer,” he said casually as he accommodated it. “And… it’s a surprise.” Had he really taken Remus’ sweater because it was warmer? He wasn’t entirely sure, but he had seen his and James’ and yours (borrowed by Effie), and Remus’ had seemed the best choice. You hadn’t even noticed he had taken Remus’ until he mentioned it was warmer. 

You pursed your lips and sighed, nodded and followed along Sirius, who still holding your hands in his, was walking you through the billowy blanket of snow that stretched all the way to the small forest. You had seen the forest before, the boys had taken you there a couple of times and while you hadn’t actually seen the entire thing, the Potters had mentioned it was safe, and that it had been in the family for generations –nothing like the Forbidden Forest back in Hogwarts.

“Will you really not tell me where we’re going?” 

“No, close your eyes.” He responded. “Go on!” 

You shook your head with a small scoff but did as told. He placed his hands over your face. One of them was warm –the one he had around yours– but the other one was a little colder, which made you flinch back and crash against him. He chuckled breathily and you could feel his breath on your neck. 

“If you wanted for us to stand closer you could have said so, Étoile.” 

You huffed in response. “Next time you put your freezing hands on my face, I’ll throw snow down your shirt.” 

“Don’t be like that,” he said with a pout and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. His lips were also rather cold, but you didn’t mind them touching you at all. “Careful there’s a branch,” he said as he guided you through the forest.

“Are we close?” 

“Almost,” Sirius replied. “To the left,” he added as he pushed you to the side for you to get past another obstacle. 

You must have given 15 other steps. You felt the weather get slightly humid and… kind of warmer? “Sirius what is–” 

“Open your eyes,” he interrupted and removed his hands from your face and placed them on your shoulder instead. 

There was a small round pool, surrounded by trees, although the sun still shone through some of them. There was steam piling on top of the water and the water itself was so pale, that it almost looked silver, like Sirius’ eyes. You leaned down and curiously dug your hand. The water was indeed warm, but when you pulled your hand out along with it, it rained down in a colourful, rainbow-like, manner. 

You dug your hand again and agitated it inside the water, the ripples were just as colourful as the stream that had dropped from your hand, turning the silvery water into a splendid visage. You had heard of things like this but you had never actually seen them. 

“Is this–” 

“Yeah,” Sirius said as he leaned down next to you. “A vieux fae thermal pool. Legend says Nymphs each had one of these to warm themselves in winter and invite their Nereid friends. James and I found it a few years ago while exploring and we lost it. I found it again while looking for the Tadpoles and thought you had to see it.” 

“There weren’t any here, were they?” you teased and he shook his head with a laugh. He also placed his hand on the water, but it didn’t tint all the wonderful colours like it had with your hand. It was only silvery shiny ripples. 

You leaned your hand towards his in the water, and the moment you touched it, the colours came back. “It must be your fae heritage,” Sirius said. “It certainly didn’t make those colours when James and I swam inside.” 

“You swam inside?” You gasped, turning to him in disbelief. “Don’t you know that pisses off the fae?” 

“There are no fae here,” he responded. “They made a deal with Prong’s family long ago. They switched lands or something like that. Effie was scandalised when we told her the thermal pool we’d found thinking there was fae in the house,” he chuckled, “but Monty was quick to tell her about it.”

“Does that mean… we can get swim without pissing anyone off?” You asked, a small smirk appearing on your lips. 

“Indeed,” Sirius said, mirroring your expression. 

Your smile grew wider and you quickly shrugged off the coat. It was cold, but the water would be warm enough once you were inside. Sirius copied you in an instant. Remus’ coat was carefully left on top of a rock, right next to yours. You discarded the hat and flipped Remus’ long-sleeved jumper over your head. 

“Don’t you have any clothes of your own?” Sirius asked when he noticed you had one of his shirts under that. 

“Shut up or I’ll actually swim with it,” you responded as you unlaced your trainers and took them off, placing them and your socks just beside the rock. 

“But you’d ruin it!” 

“Exactly,” you added before unbuttoning the thick pants you had on letting them drop on the floor. You were shivering slightly and missed the way Sirius’ gaze trailed your thighs as you stepped out of the pants and left them on the rock.

By the time you looked his way he had already averted your gaze, but his cheeks were slightly tinted. He pulled his hand back and yanked his shirt off from the back of the neckline, it had been so fast and so seamless that you couldn’t help but blink in surprise. 

“Like what you see?” he teased. 

“Oh shut up, Puppy,” you said before taking your own shirt off. Either way, Sirius had already seen you in underwear, you were not expecting him to get nearly as flustered as he did. “Turn around.”

“What?” He asked with a frown. 

“Turn around, I don’t want to have wet underwear when we get out.” 

He frowned and once he understood what you meant he swallowed and did as told. He was tempted to turn back, to see, but he fixed his eyes on the pile of clothes and tried not to think too much about it when he saw, first your bra, and then your knickers fall on the rock. He gulped and tried to focus his mind on something else, which proved rather unsuccessful since he could still see them on the rock. 

There was a short splash, “You may turn now,” you said with a smile. He turned around. You were leaning against the edge, you had your face resting on your arms and he could see half of your back as it dipped into the rainbow colours that seemed to ripple away from you. Your scarred arm was in full view, and his gaze lingered over it just for a second before it went back to your face.

Your hair was wet and it was clinging to your head and there were a few droplets of water sliding from your cheek that shone like bubbles, or perhaps like oil spilt on the ground. He gulped thickly and stared, no wonder muggles were kidnapped by fae and drowned by mermaids willingly, he thought, he too would have gotten in willingly if he found you like that on a random walk in the woods. When you realised he was staring you smirked and tilted your head to the side. “Like what you see?” 

He scoffed wryly at the way you threw his words back at him and smiled, biting his lip before tilting his head as well. “Turn around then,” he told you.

You smiled, and dipped back in the water, appearing back again with your back turned to him. He was quick to take off his underwear and jump in, you heard him sigh as the water helped him warm up again.

When the water stilled you turned around again. Sirius was staring at you with a sneaky little smile, paying close attention to how the water looked. He found it absolutely fascinating, the way your sole touch made the water change so naturally around you, he wondered what that same touch could do to him. It would certainly change some things. 

“Stop it,” you said with a smile. 

“I’m doing nothing!” he protested.

“You’re staring.” 

“Well, you’re beautiful, you can’t blame me.” 

You pouted and dipped half of your head in the water, only leaving your eyes above it before he noticed how embarrassed he’d made you. It’s not that Sirius didn’t take every chance he got to remind you how much he liked you, but you weren’t always naked while he said it. 

He smirked, “Are you flustered?” 

You splashed him with water in retort, the water flying in all sorts of magical colours and turning silver the minute it clashed with his skin, like his eyes. 

“Oi!” he complained as he wiped his face with the back of his hands. 

“This reminds me of Mexico.” 

“This is nothing like Mexico,” he responded, while he avoided staring at the valley of your breasts, he was sure the waves and ripples you were both creating could –if they wanted to– stop covering most of them and flash him in the process.

“What do you mean? There’s water, you’re being a bit of an idiot, trying to seduce me with your pretty words–” he splashed you now, the silvery water falling in colourful droplets onto your face. “See? You’re even splashing me when I call you out!” 

“You think I’m trying to seduce you?” He asked with a smirk, taking a step closer. 

“Aren’t you always?” you retorted. 

He hummed in response, cocking his head to the side with a devilish smile, he looked bewitching, his curls were wet and cascading around his face, the ripples of colour reflecting in his eyes, sometimes it was staggering how gorgeous he was, but he knew the effect he had on you and he loved it. 

“Perhaps I am,” he said as he took another step closer. “But you love every bit of it, don’t you, Starshine? You love it when I call you pretty, and when I whisper in your ear how much I like you, the way you laugh, the way you look at me, the way you smell.” 

You knew what he was doing, and you threw another splash of water his way before pushing yourself to the side and swimming around him. He laughed at your reaction and threw some water back, silvery and colourful water droplets clashing against each other and your faces. 

You dipped your head in the water and circled him until you stood behind him, then leaned a little closer, placing both hands on his shoulders and using them as leverage to float a little. Leaning in even further and resting your head on his neck, not quite allowing the rest of your body to touch his, not yet. 

“Do you mind?” you asked as you wrapped one of your arms over his shoulder.

“Not at all,” he said, voice short. Neither of you had forgotten that under the ripples of the silvery water, you were both bare. He turned his head and pressed a soft, and quick kiss to your cheek. “You feel really soft,” he added. 

“You’ve felt me plenty of times.” 

He stifled a laugh at the innuendo in your words, “I meant slippery.” 

You hummed in response, “You do too… but not soft,” you added as you sneaked one of your hands on his bicep, it was still toned after he practised beating with Rem, more than normal if you might say so yourself.

“Tease,” he said as he shoved you with his shoulder, stopping when he felt your breast brush against his skin. “Sorry,” he muttered quickly. He had felt your breasts before, while making out, but never on his back and he hadn’t dared to sneak his hand under your bra either. 

“It’s okay,” you said and leaned a little closer, allowing them to fully rest on his back. He flushed when he felt your nipples, perky against his muscles. “I don’t mind if you don’t.” 

“I certainly don’t,” he replied and thanked the heavens the water was all sorts of colours instead of clear, or you would have seen his –very evident now– reaction to your closeness. “Are you flustered now?” you asked when you noticed the slight blush creeping up his neck.

“It’s the cold,” he rushed out. 

“Is it?” you teased and brushed your hand over his arm again. “And here I thought I was turning you on.” 

He turned his head to look at your face with eyebrows raised, surprised at your words. 

“Starshine…” he warned. 

You gave him an innocent look in return, “Yeah?” 

“Who’s seducing who, now?” 

“Still you,” you said with a small smirk, reaching out to brush one of his curls behind his ear. You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling back to admire him again, your fingers tracing circles near his collarbone.

“You think?” he asked as he turned his head to yours, his lips dangerously close to your own. 

“Definitely,” you whispered, his lips were almost brushing yours. He closed the gap, it was a small kiss at first. But you leaned in closer and his tongue was in yours in no time. You were slowly slipping from his shoulder and in front of him while you kissed. He placed both of his hands on the back of your neck when you were in front of him, pulling your head closer and using his thumbs to brush your hair out of your face. 

“You’re stunning, you know that?” he asked as he pulled apart for a second and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Sometimes all I can think of is you,” he added. Sometimes it’s Remus. He kissed you again when that thought crossed his mind. 

One of his hands moved to your arm, and then to your waist, lingering only for a second on the side of your breast, as if he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure if you’d want that too. “Go ahead,” you said as you pulled from the kiss and whispered into his mouth. He seemed hesitant at first, but when you went back to kiss him he traced his fingers from your waist towards the lower side of your breast. He brushed his thumb before he wrapped his hand around it, he deepened the kiss and you almost melted under his touch. 

Neither you nor him had gotten this far before while making out, you loved it, you couldn’t think of anything other than Sirius and you certainly didn’t want to think of anything other than him. You’d been thinking too much already. You pushed your body into his but he pulled his hips back and placed both hands on your shoulders to hold you in place. 

“Wait,” he said, panting. “You don’t want to do that.” 

You cocked your head before you realised what had happened. “Sirius…” 

“Just one second,” he said, his eyes were closed shut and he had a small frown as if he was trying to concentrate on something. 

You smirked when he realised what was going on and giggled, placing your hand on his cheek before tentatively leaning closer to him again. “Weren’t you the one teaching Prongs all of your knowledge on the train?” 

His head snapped your way and he swallowed. “Yes but, we’ve– you’ve never… not really.” 

“Sirius, we've been going out for months.” 

“Exactly! And we’ve never even gotten past, you know!” 

“We do get interrupted rather often,” you said in agreement. “I doubt we’ll get interrupted now, though.” 

“But you’re naked,” he added as he motioned his head down, “Me too.” 

“Mhm,” you said as you leaned in to kiss him again, Placing your hand on his chest and then slowly sliding it down his chiselled abdomen you added, “That’s kind of a requirement for it.” When you reached down, you were not expecting to feel him as hard as he was, you pulled your hand back tentatively. “Is this why you pulled back?” 

He averted your gaze, and you smiled. “Sorry…” 

“Oh don’t be,” you said as you lowered your hand again, wrapping it around his cock, he groaned in response. “I just thought with your experience… it would take a little longer for you to– you know.” 

“You’ve been teasing since you shrugged off your coat, what did you expect?” he responded, you moved your hand. ”Fuck.” 

“You’ve never gotten like this while making out…” 

“You’ve never been naked while we’re making out. You’ve never teasingly placed your nipples on –shit.” 

“It’s okay,” you coed, and pressed a small kiss to his cheek. 

You flicked your wrist and gripped him again, brushing his tip with your thumb and he moaned, louder than you had ever heard him moan, it sent a thrill down your spine. 

“Hold up–” he said and lowered one of his hands to your stomach. “May I?” He was panting from the way you were pleasuring him, flushed and he looked like it was hard for him to form proper thoughts, and yet here he was, head slightly tilted down, asking if he could touch you. 

You nodded in response. He bit his lip at your words and lowered his hands further down, tracing your slit slowly with his index and then using a different one to part his way in, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t cum the minute he felt you. It was all slippery, and he couldn’t tell if you were turned on, or if it was just the water, so he was slow and tender as he moved his fingers up and down your slit. 

“Is that good?” 

“Mhm,” you said as you moved your own hips to chase his fingers. “There,” you added as one of his fingers brushed against your clit. 

“Like this?” he asked as he circled, “or this?” he added as he moved his finger over it, in an up-and-down motion instead. 

“Fuck,” you said as you laid your head on his shoulder, your movements on his cock becoming dumber as his on your clit became more determined. 

“Okay, I see,” he smirked when he found a pace that you liked, he lowered his fingers a bit further and teased your entrance. “Would you like it if–” 

“Please,” you pretty much whined. He smiled, loving the effect he had on you and pulled you back for a kiss, you moaned into his mouth when you felt his finger tease your entrance again, slowly sliding in.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he sighed as he shut his eyes and pressed his forehead onto your shoulder, you squeezed your walls around his finger in return and he let out another curse. “You might kill me if you do that when I’m inside.” And then he pulled back and looked at you, his eyes moving rapidly as they looked for yours. “If you want it, of course.” 

You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, “I’d love it.” 

You smirked and he used the hand that wasn’t occupied touching you, and slid it behind your waist, and then lower until he squeezed your ass, “You think you can take another one?” he asked as he teased your entrance with another finger, you nodded and he pulled the one inside off you out and then slowly slid the two of them in, this time making sure he was brushing your clit with his thumb the way that made you moan. Your hand on his cock faltered and he instantly took in his and wrapped it around his neck. “I can’t tell if you’re wet, Luv, you’re gonna have to tell me when you’re ready.” 

You pressed a kiss to his neck in response, and he continued with his expert movements. Now opening his fingers slightly, trying to make sure he’d be able to get in. 

“I think I’m ready,” you said while panting, your hips were bucking against his hand now, searching for more friction, but Sirius was being careful, he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted it to be special since it was your first time with each other. 

Forget that you were inside a Nymph pool and that because of your fae descendance, there were rainbow colours all around, he wanted you to feel special. 

He slowly pulled his hand out, you bit your lip and at the lack of friction and were quick to close the gap between your bodies again, he groaned when he felt your slit brush next to his cock. You smiled and moved your hip again, enjoying the feeling of sensitive skin against it. He wasn’t even inside you and he already felt like cumming. 

You lowered your hand in between your bodies, he held you from your waist, chest against chest so it was up to you to accommodate the two. You took his cock in your hand again and moved it over your slit two times, allowing his tip to brush against your clit which only got you going even more. “Ready?” You asked.

He wasn’t sure he’d managed to come up with a word so he merely nodded. Your forehead was against his as you guided his cock inside you. He was slow and steady, not moving at all and allowing you to be the one to push into him rather than the other way around. He bottomed out and opened his eyes to stare at you. “You good?” he breathed.

“Mhm,” you said with a nod and placed a short kiss on his lips. 

“I’m gonna move,” he warned, and slowly moved out, only a little, and then he went back in again. He moved his hands from your waist to your ass to help with the movements and you placed yours around his neck. He traced your ass until he found the place where your bodies met and touched it as he thrusted into you, imagining how beautiful you looked underneath the water, perhaps as lovely as you looked above it. 

You were using him as leverage, both of your hands on his shoulders but you craved more friction. So you wrapped one of your arms around his neck, leaning in closer to him and sliding the other one down your bodies. You too were curious as to how that looked, but you’d definitely be able to see it on a different day. You started circling your hand on your clit when he noticed what you were doing. He couldn’t quite move his hands away from your ass since there was nothing you could recline on, but he hated the idea of you having to do it yourself. 

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheeks, then further down and down until he reached your lips. You lifted your head to meet his halfway and he kissed you, slow and steady, much slower than the way he was thrusting into you underneath the glistening water, the coordination was absolutely exhilarating. 

“Luv,” he said softly, focusing your eyes on your face. “May I turn you around? I feel I could make you feel better that way.” 

“You feel you could?” you asked wryly, biting your lips at the thought. He wasn’t only thinking of his pleasure, that had been evident since he asked to touch you but it still sent butterflies down your stomach. The boastful and sometimes a little self-absorbed Sirius cared so much about the way he was making you feel. “Let’s try it then.” 

He pressed another kiss to your mouth and slowly got out of you, using his hands to turn you around, one under your breast and the other one guiding your hips. He cursed when your ass brushed over his cock and you repeated the hip movement under the water which only got a hiss from him. “Such a tease,” he said with a smile as he pressed a kiss to the curve of your neck, moving his hand on your hips to search for your entrance again. He too teased a couple of times, making sure to brush his tip against your clit like you had done earlier which elicited a short, quiet moan from you. 

“You can make all the noise you want,” he said with a smile, and then got in, a lot faster this time around. He wrapped his aiding hand around you and left it on your lower stomach as he moved the other one to your breast. 

He looked at you as if asking for permission before settling it there, and then he started to move again. But the hand on your lower stomach slid down and he started to touch you, in the same way he learned you liked earlier. 

“Good?” 

“Great,” you panted. Soon both of you were panting and moaning, and the sound of the water, along with the distant chirping of birds and other sounds of the wintery forest surrounding you had you both completely lost in each other. The cacophony of sounds, organic and lewd, soft and deep, moaning and grunts and pleas, all of them combining into the perfect atmosphere. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, even if you could.

“I think I have to… quick,” he added as he gently pushed you off of him. You quickly turned around and placed one of your hands on his shoulder as you reached down, wrapping your hand around his wrist and moving it away from his cock. You then wrapped your hand around him. 

“Like this?” you asked gently. 

“You can grip a little tighter,” he said, eyes squeezed shut, “and move your hand a little faster.”

“Okay,” you said and did as told. Stroking him with purpose, he moved one of his hands to your shoulder and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” he panted. And you instantly knew he was cumming. You kept moving your hand on him, milking him all the way through although you couldn’t be sure if he had or not finished completely. You lowered your pace only when he started to go soft. He pressed a small kiss to your lips, “You’re bIoody fantastic.” 

You smiled, and wafted towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning in for a kiss. He was quick to wrap his arms around your back and hold you in place. When you pulled back from the kiss he started to place soft kisses all over your face, you could tell he was tired, his movements softer, and a lot more gentle than before –not that he had at any point stopped being gentle. 

Then you leaned down a little, sliding your cheek on his until your mouth was close to his ear. “Next time I’ll be taking Minnie’s potion,” you said and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pushing yourself off him and biting your lip.

“You’re such a tease, I swear!” he scolded with a laugh and moved forward to wrap you in his arms and kiss you again. Then it was he who leaned closer to you, and whispered, “Next time I’ll take my sweet time with you, Sweets. You’ll cum more than me.” 

It wasn’t just words, it was most definitely a promise, you realised as you felt yourself getting aroused again. You searched for his lips again and you made out for a few more minutes. Sometimes soft kisses, sometimes desperate ones, enough to pull at each other’s hair –you loved pulling at his hair.

“We better get back,” you said, pulling apart from a kiss as you realised the weather was going dark again. You were not eager to walk in a snowy forest in the dark again, fearing whatever kind of memories it could trigger back. The same kind you had been trying to bury so deep inside your mind the past few days that if you allowed them out, they might break you appart. You were not eager to cry, especially not after your first time with Sirius. 

“Can’t we stay a little longer?” he asked with a pout, tightening his grip on your waist. 

You looked around, and he was quick to see the anxiety in your face, “It’s kind of getting dark.” 

If he hadn’t heard the falter in your voice, perhaps he would have teased you further. Instead, he nodded, “You’re right, they might come looking for us and then we’ll actually be in trouble” he added with a grin. 

“As if that’s ever bothered you,” you smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips before separating from him and swimming towards the edge of the small pool. You used your hands as leverage to raise yourself from the water. 

Sirius let a low whistle from behind. “Ugh, you’re such a dog!” you scoffed while trying to hold your laughter. You were sure he had done it to piss you off. 

“Just appreciating my gorgeous girlfriend,” he said casually, and you kicked some water towards his face. 

“Fuck it’s cold,” you said as you got out and covered. yourself with your arms. Sirius was out in a second, he placed his coat –technically Remus’– over your shoulders. 

“Wait! It’ll get wet,” you said as you removed it and turned around to hand it forward, Sirius was looking at you with loving eyes, and you couldn’t help but blush. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

“I don’t care.” 

You rolled your eyes and shook your head. “But I do, hand me your wand, please.” 

He was quick to summon his wand in the same way he used to summon a broom and then handed it over to you, brushing his fingers with yours. You used a warming spell to dry yourself as quickly as possible and handed it back to him, he allowed his fingers to linger on yours before doing the same. You shrugged off the coat while you walked to the rock in search of your undies. 

“Looking for this?” he teased, there was mirth in his eyes as he dangled your knickers in the air with one finger. 

You were covering your chest with one of your arms and he was looking at you with that mischievous look of his. You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes at him. He extended his hand your way and when you reached to grab them he pulled back again, dragging them to his face and giving them a deep and long sniff. 

You looked at him aghast and actually laughed, “You really are a dog.” 

“And you’re my pretty vixen, aren’t you?” he said with a smile and threw the knickers your way. You caught them easily and shook your head. 

“Vixen am I not?” you responded with a teasing smile and turned around. And in one of the boldest moves you had ever done, you leaned down, exposing your ass to him as you slowly, and dreadfully sensually –or as sensually as you could muster– slid your knickers back on. 

“That’s not fucking fair,” he said as he adjusted his –now tighter– boxers. 

“Suck it up,” you said simply and finally stood straight, leaning down to take your bra and putting it on quickly. 

You reached for your shirt –technically his– but he already had it in his hands and held it over your head, helping you put it, even with your back still to him. When the shirt was fully on, he dug his hand underneath it and squeezed you closer to him. Burying his face in the nape of your shoulder. “Biggest tease ever,” he mumbled into your shoulder. His shirt smelled delicious, like you and– and Remus, fucking hell Sirius, stop it, he thought.

“I’m only letting you hug me because you’re warm.” 

He teasingly pinched your side. “Lie to yourself all you want, Starshine. You love having my arms around you.” 

You hummed in response and stayed like that for a bit. “Sirius?” 

“Mhm?” 

“You still haven’t put on a shirt, have you?” He grumbled something akin to no. You laughed and squirmed away from him, leaning in quickly to grab his shirt and throwing it at his face. “You’ll catch a cold, you dumbass.” 

He caught it quickly and put it on, “would have been worth it.” 

“It wouldn’t have,” you retorted. “I wouldn’t be able to cuddle you if you were sick.” 

“I see, you want to cuddle me more then,” he teased. 

“You were the one clinging onto me earlier,” you sassed in return and pulled your pants up. “Could you pass me the jumper?” 

He grabbed Moony’s jumper and threw it your way, you were quick to pull it over your head and then walked towards the rock to put on your shoes and socks. After that, you took both coats from the rock and passed him over the one he had thrown over you while wet –that you had half dried with a spell– and you put on the one you had brought. 

Once you were ready Sirius gave you a short smile and walked towards you, reached his hand towards you and intertwined your fingers, then tilted his head as he motioned for you to follow his lead. Sirius didn’t let go of you at all on the way back, who would have thought he was a romantic?

Except, Sirius wasn’t glued to you just because he didn’t want to stop touching you, but also because he had seen how anxious you’d gotten at the prospect of walking in the snowy woods at night, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel anything than pleased, so he made sure to never let go of you. Not while you walked through the forest, not while you walked through the open fields, and not even when you opened the door to the house. 

“James, you can’t say that in a letter,” Remus said with an exasperated sigh. Both boys were sitting in the living room, James had a quill in his hand and was furiously crossing out something on a piece of paper and Remus was looking absolutely defeated like he both couldn’t and didn’t want to deal with James anymore. 

“But why not?” James asked with a frown. 

“Lily doesn’t even like Qudditch. And you said ‘in your eyes I see the goalposts of my dreams’, that’s objectifying. Not to mention how you said she was a Quaffle that you wanted to chase earlier.” 

“But I would follow her to the ends of the earth.” 

“That’s actually much better,” you said from the door with a smile, Sirius was trying not to laugh at both James and Remus’ relieved sighs when they spotted you. “Although a bit tacky, she might like it.” 

“Thank Godric you’re here,” Remus spoke. Meanwhile, James scribbled that one line from earlier. “Where were you, anyway?” 

“In the fae pool,” Sirius responded with a small, pleased smirk.

“Oh, cool,” James said, Sirius’ tone completely flying past his head. He turned to you. “You liked it? You were there a while.” 

“Oh, she loved it,” Sirius added and you elbowed him. 

“You’ll help me, right?” James asked, oblivious to the interaction that had just gone through, too immersed in his struggle to get the letter to look perfect, Remus had made him throw most of the things he’d written thus far. 

But Remus, even though exasperated, wasn’t nearly as oblivious as James, and he was quick to catch on to your interactions. The way you elbowed Sirius, the way he was looking at you, your swollen lips and Sirius’ smug –yet flushed– demeanour. He knew that look, he hated that look. Back in the day, it had only reminded him of how out of reach Sirius was. 

Today though? He didn’t even know how the fuck to feel. The image of the two of you all over each other in the thermal pool was looping over and over again in his mind, and it was the hottest thing he’d ever imagined. Fuck, he wished he had known, he wished he had taken the cloak and seen it happen with his own eyes. But at the same time, there was a pang in his heart, as if the wolf was reminding him: they’re not yours. 

“Yeah sure,” you said, leaving the coat you had on the hanger and walking towards both boys, you kneeled down in between James and Remus. She smells like sex, Remus thought as you approached, the barely visible hickey on your neck too obvious for someone who knew you so well. He focused his gaze on Sirius, who looked really excited and sighed, standing up. 

“I’ll go get a book,” he said as he stood up. 

“I’ll come with,” Sirius said with a smile. He wanted to talk about it, he wanted to tell Remus all about it, well not all about it, but he definitely wanted to tell him how amazing you’d been. 

“No, it’s fine, it won’t take me too much–” 

“Nonsense,” Sirius said and walked behind Remus towards the staircase. 

You gave both boys a short wave and then focused on James’ letter, now understanding why Remus was so done with James. 

“Okay, what exactly do you want to say in the letter, James?”  

“That I miss her a lot, that she’s stunning and gorgeous and that I want to see her again soon, and I want to invite her over too. Well, her and everyone.” 

“Okay, and what does the quidditch pitch, the balls and all this gibberish about chasing and catching and keeping have to do with that?” 

“Ugh… well-” 

“–Exactly. You don’t need any of that,” you said simply. “Tell me, what do you like about Lily…” 

It was then that your voices faded out completely and Remus was forced to focus on Sirius’. “When she touched the water, it turned into hundreds of different colours, it was stunning!” 

“Yeah?” Remus asked, trying to distract himself with the books in James’ massive library, he was reading and rereading through the titles and Sirius continued talking about it. 

“You should have seen it, Moony. The rainbows on the silvery water, it was like nothing I’d ever seen, and I’ve seen plenty of things…” 

Remus hummed simply in response, pulling out a book, reading through the front cover, and flipping a few pages. The wolf inside was clawing at him, telling him to get angry and to snap at Sirius for taking what was his. His Vixen. His Padfoot.

 “For fucks sake,” he muttered when he realized he had picked up one of those spicy romance novels you claimed he would be the cover of if it was about pirates. 

Thankfully, Sirius was too busy talking his ear off to hear what he’d said. “I swear, it had never been like this Remus, and you know I’ve been with plenty of women before…” No matter how much he tried, it was not easy to ignore Sirius’ rambling. “It was as if I had been bewitched. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she had used fae magic on me, but she doesn’t have any.” 

“She has charm,” Remus said with a sigh, “just not the one that comes along with magic.” He placed the book back on the shelf a little too forcefully and looked for a different title. 

“It felt incredible.” 

“Sirius,” Remus warned. 

“She’s amazing, I didn’t think she would know but the way she–” 

“SIRIUS!” 

“What?” he asked with a frown. 

“You think she would like you talking about it?” 

“You’re her best friend, my best friend, it doesn’t count.” 

“It does,” Remus said, turning to him now, a different book in his hands. He had enough images filling his mind without Sirius’ explicit tales. “And you’ve never been this specific before either.” 

Sirius huffed, “As if you hadn’t gone around kissing and fucking Alice just months ago.” 

“What does she have to do with any of this?” 

Yeah, what does Alice have to do with any of this? Sirius wondered himself. 

“Well– just that. You were kissing her at the Halloween party like you were eating her face off, and– I never told you off about it.” 

Remus scoffed, “She kissed me at that party. In public, I didn’t go around talking about it, not about how great it felt or how incredible she felt, or how much better she was than anyone else I had been with before.” 

Sirius swallowed, if he didn’t know better, he’d say Moony was jealous. But more important than that, he was irked by the idea of Alice being so incredible for Remus. “Well, if I don't tell you about it, then I’ll tell Prongs, I bet he’ll want to listen.” 

Remus sighed, exasperated. “Sirius, that was your moment.” He squeezed his eyes as he let out a breath. “You and her.” Golden brown eyes locked on steel grey again, “A special moment, a wonderful moment.” He had a hard time saying “wonderful”, Sirius noticed that too. “And I’m happy for you, truly.  For the both of you, it’s obvious you deeply care about the other, I can see how freaking in love you are with one another from kilometres away but– and I cannot emphasise this enough– I don’t need images of my two best friends fucking in the fae pool in my head.” 

And he really didn’t need them, there were enough of them by now. 

“I’m– I’m sorry,” Sirius stuttered. “I didn’t– I think I get what you mean,” he hadn’t liked the images of Remus fucking Alice either. Those had pissed him off, unlike James when he was descriptive of what he had done with Lily, he didn’t mind hearing those as much. “Do you think she’ll forgive me? I’ve gone and opened my big mouth, and it’s been hours since– Godric, I’m a total asshole.” 

Remus sighed and shook his head, “I don’t think there’s much you could do that she wouldn’t forgive,” he said honestly. Not if you love him like he knew you did. “Besides, you’ve been forgiven for much worse things.” Sirius tried not to recoil in his seat at the thought of the incident with Severus. 

By the time the two got back, you had already made a decent draft for Lily’s letter with James and he was looking for a fresh piece of parchment to write it with nicer handwriting. 

“Found your book?” you asked when you spotted Moony by the stairs. He showed you a book in response. Sirius came behind him, he held a small stack of books in his hands. 

“What you got there, Puppy?” 

“Wand lore,” he said with a smile. “I thought perhaps there’s a way to fix your wand, or if you decide to actually use Nina’s–”

“Sirius!” Remus and James reprimanded at the same time. 

“It’s okay,” you said simply. “I get what you’re trying to do,” you said simply and took one of the books from his hands. Opening and sitting on the armchair, not on the sofa, but on the armchair, where no one else would be able to sit. James and Remus threw Sirius a look and he mouthed a sorry while you focused on the book. 

It was actually a really interesting book, enough to drag you away from those sad thoughts. 

“Do you want to play Monopoly?” Sirius suggested after a while. 

You yawned in response, “Maybe sleep?” 

“Sounds great, you coming?” He asked Remus.

“No,” he said simply. “I’ll take the guest room today,” he added. Everyone turned to him with a frown. “Developed a bit of a sore throat, wouldn’t want to pass it on to any of you.” 

Remus had never, in the entire time that you’d known him, developed a sore throat.

“Have you taken something?” You asked, concerned. “Is it maybe a Moony thing?” 

“It might be just my screaming from the game earlier, but I’d rather not take any risks.” 

You frowned, unconvinced. “Okay, see you tomorrow then.” He nodded. “We’ll miss you, Rem.” 

He swallowed at that. “See you tomorrow.” 

Remus did not need any more torture. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it together if you cuddled all over him like you often did before turning. Either to tease him or just to talk. The idea of the three of you resting on the same bed, was too much for him to handle tonight. Especially with all the thoughts already roaming in his head, the moon being so close wasn’t of help at all.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Does anybody have some water? GC just got spicy! Hope you liked this chapter, I wanted their first time to be special, and somehow I ended with the softest Sirius ever, he's such a sweetheart, my heart will explode

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To Be So Mundane

Rating: General CW: Brief mention of Covid-19 (as this is set in 2021) Tags: Post-Canon, Post Vecna, Future Fic, Set in 2021, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Older Steddie, Domestic Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Teacher Steve Harrington, The Intimacy in a Bowl of Soup, Emotional Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Soft Eddie Munson, Soft Steve Harrington

Thought about finishing up the fourth chapter of my merman Steve fic. And then I got sidetracked, so here's this. Also, I don't know where they live or what Eddie does for work (maybe mechanic, if you feel so inclined to imagine him that way). Pick your flavor <3

🥣—————🥣 At the end of the day, Steve realizes it’s not the horror he’s experienced that will linger. Sure, they persist and he is frightened and he shakes sweating from it all. But when he comes home, exhausted to his core and sluggish to the soles of his feet, it’ll never be the agony he finds in his kitchen. It’s the warmth.

The sweet musk of vanilla bourbon candles bought from the home aisle of the neighborhood Walmart. A singular orange bulb in a second-hand floor lamp, tucked cozy by the couch, in the corner between the back door and the right armrest. Bookshelves of knick knacks and framed photos from 2003—when he finally tried the college route and graduated. The sprawl of mini-figure painting equipment on the coffee table: half-open paint jars that he closes up tight, still drying clean paint brushes, paper towels and yellowed newspaper, and magnifying goggles.

It’s to music. Soft crooning through the—now considered ancient—record player from 1988. Sometimes Jim Croce. Sometimes John Prine. Sometimes the goddess, Dolly Parton. Something familiar and nearly worn out from playing the records over and over and over. Tonight, it’s Jim. It’s coming back to the floating husking rasp of Eddie Munson’s fifty-five year old voice, not all that great but always sweet from by the stovetop.

To where Steve migrates, shoeless and briefcase free and his teacher’s badge hung up. Where soup simmers on the low heat—smelling of paprika and roasted carrots and chicken bouillon. The oven heating up a loaf of French bread, basted in garlic butter, sprinkled with shredded mozzarella cheese. Where Eddie stands, stirring and singing—his now silver hair pulled up into a bun, dressed down in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants, and his scruff not shaved—he must’ve had a lazy day. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, his body warm and his tummy a little pudgier. Eddie hums, reaching down with a free hand to cover the back of Steve’s, squeezing. And Steve’ll never be used to their wedding rings clinking together.

“Long day?” Eddie murmurs low.

Steve grunts. Digs his chin into Eddie’s left shoulder. His glasses going crooked from the angle. Peers down at the bubbling pot of dinner. “Kids kept threatening to take their masks off. Nearly started a coughing fight,” he answers at the same volume. He sighs, long and genuine. “They’ve officially turned Covid-19 into classroom warfare. Whatever happened to spitballs and globs of food?”

Eddie chuckles deep in his chest. “Don’t give ‘em ideas, Stevie.” He smiles softly down at his cooking, dimples deep and smile lines deeper. Steve kisses under his left ear just because. Because he can. Because this is what the world is when it doesn’t end, thank god. The soup is stirred slowly for a few more beats. He scoops up a spoonful in their beat up ladle. It’s got a few char scars from when they first learned to cook meals for one another—Steve believes it’s from the time he forgot to turn off the stovetop when making macaroni and cheese. Lesson learned.

“Here, taste this for me, baby?” Eddie gently requests, holding the ladle to Steve’s face over his shoulder. Hand cupping the underside. Face turned slightly to try and make eye contact, he’ll give himself a knot if he does it too long. Steve knows, having given many massages over the last decade.

He leans forward slightly, accepting the soup as Eddie tilts the ladle. Makes an obnoxious slurp that Eddie snorts at. Smacks his lips and hums. “Ooo, that’s good,” Steve mutters close to Eddie’s ear. “Got a little kick to it. You put a little bit of that new chili oil?”

“Mm and chili flakes,” Eddie hums. “Thought it would pair nicely. Remember that chicken I began marinating last night?”

“The chicken you told me I couldn’t make for my lunch today?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, turning back to the soup pot, shutting the burner off. “I told you not to take it all,” he points out with pleasant tease. “Because you’ll do that if I don’t stop you. And then you come home and complain that your stomach hurts because you ate too much. And then I have to put you on bed rest for the night.”

“I’m not that bad—“

“Anyway,” Eddie cuts in. “I marinated it in this ginger, coconut sauce that I saw a few nights ago on uh…What’s that app that Robin’s always sending videos from?”

“The…The TickTick app?” Steve guesses.

Eddie snaps his fingers together. “Yeah! That app!” He exclaims softly. (They’ll learn later it’s definitely not that, but it doesn’t matter.) He shrugs Steve off to grab the bread from the oven. Steve just moves around to their bar countertop, not a complaint on his tongue. Eddie continues, “I also added a little bit of coconut milk to the base broth. So, hopefully, this’ll be good. With the leftovers, I was thinking you could make your cauliflower rice for lunch and put the soup on top? Only if it’s good, though. If this sucks, I’ll pay for pizza tonight.”

Steve laughs from his belly. “If you do, make sure to get the gluten free crust. Stupid stomach has been acting up again,” he says softly.

Standing up, Eddie hisses. “You’re lucky that the bakery section at the grocery store only had gluten free baguettes then,” he teases gently once more. He sets the finished bread on the countertop, grabs the bottle of chili oil from by the pot of soup, and drizzles it lightly overtop the cheesy, garlic goodness. When he finally dishes up their dinner, he settles next to Steve at the counter. Bowls and small plates of bread in front of them. Glasses of crappy Barefoot red wine, because this is what they can afford—and it doesn't really suck, not when it's served thoughtfully like it is tonight.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmurs. He leans in close to Eddie’s side, presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, and then promptly digs in.

And it’s good. Everything’s so good. Jim Croce is singing about time in a bottle. The soup is warm and fresh and homemade. Every light is a careful amber. He’s tired and happy and…complete.

Eddie’s got soup in the scruff under his lip. But Steve doesn’t say anything. Just admires the fine wrinkles and lines to his face, where they’ve begun to really deepen. Admires how his eyes are just as big and soft and expressive as they were thirty-five years ago after Vecna. Where his body is soft. His endearingly white hair.

How he’s alive.

“Hey, Eds?”

Immediately, Eddie looks onto him. Eyes wide with trepidation. The corners of his mouth pinched downward. “Is it not good? I can go get my wallet if it’s—“

Steve lays his hand on the back of Eddie’s forearm. The right one, closest to him, where scars swamp the bats. And that says something, too, he’s sure. About how Eddie fought the bats and came out victorious anyway. His thumb runs soothingly over Eddie’s malleable, aged, warm skin. And his eyes prickle with tears—it would’ve been embarrassing if he were nineteen still, but what a wonderful thing to be alive and cry at all.

“I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me,” Steve breathes out all at once. He sighs through his mouth, a gentle sob escaping.

Eddie drops his spoon into his bowl of slowly cooling soup. And he reaches up, dislodging Steve’s hand on his arm completely, cupping his face between his hands instead. “Oh, baby,” he coos. “Baby, are you alright? Where’s this coming from?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t know. Not really. But it’s here. And he’s got a therapist in the aftermath of everything, and feelings deserved to be felt—so they’ve said. “I just—“ He wetly exhales, leaning into Eddie’s soft hands. “—I don’t know. It’s so fucking…I’m so happy to just be boring. To do the same mundane things every single day. To just come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie coos again. He tugs Steve closer, burying his face into his shoulder. Pets a hand through Steve’s own white hair. A hand between his shoulders. Letting him dissolve safely. “I am, too, Steve,” he states like a promise. “You have no idea how my heart just soars in the morning when I look over and you’re…God, you’re drooling all over your own forearm and snuffling deep into the pillow and your hair is all spiky and you’ve got creases all over your face from going to war with the top sheet.” Steve chuckles just as Eddie pulls him back. Hands back on his cheeks, thumbs soothing tear tracks. “You have no idea how relieved I am to look over and see you at peace, sweetheart. Every day—I don’t know how you do it—but every day you let me discover a new part of you to love.”

They smile at one another, softly, eyes shiny with tears. Their soup is going cold, but it doesn’t matter. They’ve got all the time in the world to reheat it.

“I love you,” Steve breathes, states. Just because he can.

“I love you, too,” Eddie says immediately. Because it’s that easy.

It’s easy when life is nothing more than this.

🥣—————🥣

#stranger things #steddie #older steddie #domestic steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #tooth rotting fluff

[temis-de-leon]

Shy gn!reader goes to their first date with the Demon Brothers

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 1 , Dateables version

Romance Anon: Could I request headcanons for Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus and Beelzebub react to shy gn s/o who asked what he would like to do for their first date because he made them happy by accepting their confession so they want to make him happy?

.

A/N: I asked my brain, "hey, how about we write a little bit" and it answered "how about we fucking don't"

.

Mammon

He’s ready to turn every single one of your outings into a date, but he’s also excited to have the opportunity of organizing the best first date you’ve ever had.

He’ll make sure you won’t ever regret confessing your undying love to him.

It needs to be memorable and special, so going to the casino is a big no-no. You’ve gone together numerous times already and the image of losing every piece of gold in his pocket and his wallet in front of you on such a special occasion makes him shiver in fear and embarrassment.

A fair or a festival are good choices, but, as much as he’d love watching the city skyline on the ferris wheel or winning a plushie for you to cuddle and think of him, those aren’t available all of the time.

The idea of having dinner and a movie makes him remember the projector in his room, but his brothers could spoil that very easily and bile reaches his mouth at the possibility.

You could go shopping, but that doesn’t feel too intimate, does it?

He becomes desperate after hours of thinking and scratching his head and it’s not until he enters his car to go out for a drive and clear his mind that he realizes he has the perfect solution.

Having dinner together and watching the city skyline are romantic activities, but who says you have to do it at home or on top of a fair attraction?

It’s not even two days later when you find yourself sitting on his car’s hood with take-out ramen in your hands, patiently waiting for him to get a blanket out of the trunk.

The chirping sound of crickets and the distant city noises fill the cold night, but the only thing he can think of is the fondness of your embrace slowly warming his body and making him smile like a fool.

Leviathan

He’s already happy that you like him back and he kind of forgets about everything else, so your offer feels like a slap in the face. An enthusiastic reminder that you’re both now starting a relationship.

That thought makes him cry and yell in the emptiness of his room with non-contained happiness.

He fears you’re going to be disappointed with his ideas for your first date, though.

Going out of the house makes his heart pound in apprehension, anxiety quickly scratching his neck and prickling his brain with needles.

Reading through his manga collection, watching multiple shoujos and playing every otome game he has only make him feel worse and inadequate for you.

Why do you want to go out with someone like him? Reclusive, a bitter sad excuse of a demon who can’t get out of the house without an incentive or a pep-talk.

Do you still like him, despite all of that?

Or is it that… you like him including all of that?

Do you want to be seen holding hands with him? Do you want everyone to know that you like him, of all people?

He can’t set your first date in his room, that would be too pathetic; but, at the same time, going to a café like any other normie couple doesn’t feel like him at all.

What’s a place that combines the comfort and privacy of his room and the outside world?

He asks Henry and his beloved pet stares at him with unblinking eyes. Almost immediately, reality hits him like a train.

Of course! The Royal Aquarium!

The blue lights and the submarine life couldn’t be a better substitute for his room and you’d get out of the house! It’s perfect!

Plus, he gets the opportunity of showing off his knowledge of the ocean, something he hopes will impress you.

He wants to do more for you because you deserve it, but he needs time.

There’s a Ruri-chan convention in a few weeks. Maybe you could go together…

For your second date, perhaps…? No pressure, though!!

Satan

He’s a romantic at heart and he’s been picturing how your first date could go since you confessed to him, so you can’t imagine the happiness he felt when he was granted the opportunity to let all of those ideas become real.

A big gesture would feel impersonal and kill the essence of a newborn relationship, so, although he wants to impress you, Satan will not go overboard.

There are museums where he could show you his knowledge on Devildom’s art and history, but he doesn’t want to spend your first date speaking like a pedant scholar.

There are also high reviewed bookstore cafés, as well as his beloved cat cafés, where you could go to have a hot beverage in a soothing space, but that isn’t exactly what he wants.

He wants to talk to you, hear the nervous stammering in your voice while you blush and struggle to look at him in the eye, and going to a bookstore would quiet your conversations, so he keeps that idea for the future.

The cat café is his favourite, but you would expect that from him and he wants to surprise you at least a little.

He gets the perfect idea while feeding the stray cats behind the House of Lamentation.

Knowing where every single cat in the neighbourhood lives, as well as those who prefer the outskirts of town or even the countryside, shows him a part of the area that no one else has ever seen.

A few days later, Satan looks giddy and enamoured walking by your side while you both feed the cats you encounter, following a path full of flowers that lead you to an abandoned viewpoint.

You’re sitting together, surrounded only by the felines that know when to leave you alone, and, despite the beautiful scenery that displays beyond, Satan can only look at you.

Asmodeus

His first impulse is to go all the way.

Showing you around for his fans to know that you two are dating sends a shiver of excitement down his spine, eyes glowing in delight while he ponders which outfit he should wear so he can match with you.

His plans for your first date seem generic, but a closer look into it lets you know that he has it all planned to make you both the centre of attention.

Other’s and each other’s centre of attention, that is.

You’re colour coordinated, your orders in the café are trending in social media and the weather is so good that little to no people are staying inside their homes.

The both of you are being seen just as you deserve.

Beautiful, together, happy.

Jealousy and envy surrounds you, all of his fans photographing your first date with a mixture of admiration and resentment, wishing to be you; wishing to be him more than ever.

The combination of your company, the external flattery and his own satisfaction makes him think that there couldn’t be a first date better than this one.

He couldn’t be more wrong.

You’re not truly alone until the night comes and the residents of the Devildom have no other choice but to leave you to your own devices to continue with their lifes.

You walk close to him, bumping your hips with his until you both start smiling and giggling. Your voices are almost a hush and he finds the way you lean into him to hear his words better quite addictive.

He feels your breath on his skin, your eyes on his. His hands are itching to bring you even closer and never let you go and it’s not until you kiss under a streetlamp in an empty park that he understands why your first date is so perfect.

You’re with him and he’s with you. That’s enough.

Beelzebub

You already know what he’s thinking, although you may be misinterpreting his execution.

While, yes, he wants to take you out to his favourite dinners and restaurants, Belphie advises him to not go all the way. You don’t have the same stomach as him and ending your date feeling ill would leave a very bad impression.

He doesn’t want you to see him as a permanently hungry beast, anyways. It’s not what he wants you to think whenever he’s close to you, even if he acts like it most of the time, so it doesn’t take much convincing from his twin to agree and search for a more delicate plan of sorts.

He wants the full experience: drinks, starter, main dish, side dish and dessert, but why would you have all of that in the same establishment?

There’s a map in his head where every food related store is highlighted in bright neon colours.

A juice and smoothie bar to start the date followed by a true hamburger restaurant, not any of those fast food chains that only serve half of what is shown in the pictures. Far from there, a walk long enough for you to comfortably digest the food, is a stall specialized in fries. Made in a dozens different ways, they are the perfect last savoury treat to eat before ice cream or a pastry.

Asmo recommended him the retro ice cream parlor and Barbatos took him to the traditional bakery once.

If you don’t like burgers or fries, however, there are more places you could go, just tell him! Whichever you prefer, he’ll be fine with it!

His main goal is for you to have a good time with him, after all, and, although food is a necessity to keep his sin in track, he knows it won’t be what will make your first date perfect.

You being his date is what will make it perfect.

.

.

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x gn!mc #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me mammon x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beel x reader #obey me fluff #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me requests #anon request #romance anon

[copper-16]

The Beginning

The decision to have a baby, as well as how the Barcelona girls find out about Ingrid's pregnancy (confusion ensues, as it always does).

(a/n: repeat after me: thank you @lucawrites11 for sending me the picture of Mapi with a child so I could write this and not end up down an internet rabbit hole of trying to find a picture of Mapi with a child! This was highly requested, so I hope you guys enjoy it!)

They were sitting together on the couch watching a movie when Ingrid brings it up, less because she had intentionally thought through doing so and more because the words tumble out of her. 

“I want a baby with you,” she blurts out, her eyes widening at her own candor. Mapi seems equally as shocked, fumbling to get the remote and turn the movie off, the conversation at hand exponentially more interesting than whatever they were watching. 

“I’m sorry! I don’t…I don’t know why I said that,” the Norwegian shakes her head, but Mapi stops her as she moves closer, her focus now solely on Ingrid. 

“No, no, clearly you did. Where is your mind?” The Spaniard asked thoughtfully, because she could tell this was something Ingrid had been thinking about. 

All week, ever since they had a big win in the Champions League last Saturday, the dark haired woman had been a little bit quiet. Not in a bad way necessarily, but Mapi could tell that something was on her wife’s mind. Something was bothering her, but she had simply been waiting for Ingrid to come to her before she did something about it. 

“We have a plan,” Ingrid started nervously, playing with her own fingers as she looked down at her lap where they lay. 

And it was true, they did have a plan. They had gotten married a little over a year before, had just bought a house together. They were going to wait a few years to have children, until Mapi had retired and then they would adopt. 

Ingrid knew she was throwing a wrench in the meticulously planned setup, but she couldn’t help it. She says as much, trying to explain her thought process. 

“We have a plan, but every time I see you with a kid or a baby I can’t help but want one with you. My ovaries feel like they are going to burst, and I just know you would be the best Mami and I well…” Ingrid stopped herself with a sigh. Mapi was showing absolutely no emotion, simply observing the defender and trying not to give anything away as to her own thoughts. 

“I know it would be a lot more complicated, but I don’t want to wait. We are stable, and I know we are both playing but I see more and more players having kids and I just…I feel like we could do it. I want a little baby that is you and me, I want to experience all of it,” Ingrid couldn’t decide if she was begging her wife to do this or trying to talk herself out of it, but either way Mapi softened when she saw how misty eyed the Norwegian was growing. 

“Oh Ingrid, come here,” she replied gently, bringing the green eyed woman into her arms and hugging her firmly. She rubbed her hand up and down the dark haired woman’s back for a moment, before she pulled back slightly. 

“Princesa, I want that with you too, of course I do,” Mapi promised, as Ingrid paused, looking up at her wife’s face with confusion. 

“You do? But we had…we had the whole plan!” She exclaimed, brushing away her own tears as she sat up, now a little lost. She was getting conflicting accounts, and her confusion persisted when Mapi appeared to grow a bit guilty, rubbing at the back of her neck. 

“I don’t…I really want kids but I do not want to carry them. And I didn’t want to put that on you, so I suggested the plan instead so neither of us would have to sacrifice our careers,” the brunette admitted, feeling a little bit bad about it. She wanted kids, very badly in fact, but the thought of carrying them held absolutely no appeal to her whatsoever. And given her own negative thoughts on the matter, she had absolutely no intention of making her wife feel like she had to carry their kids, if she didn’t want to. 

“Oh my god Mapi no, I want to carry,” Ingrid gushed, realizing with a flush of hope that she might not be entirely crazy or alone in her desires. “I only went along with the plan because you seemed so insistent!” 

The center back appeared skeptical, if nothing else. 

“Ingrid, are you sure? This is a big decision, I do not want it to be something we decide lightly, and then you regret it later on. You would have to stop playing for upward of a year, it might end up being very rough, I know that–” Mapi just keeps going on and on, and after a moment the Norwegian has to stop her, a hand on her wife’s knee. 

“I have thought about it. And we can talk more about it, sure, but I have definitely thought about it. If we started a transfer soon in the new year, we could have the baby in the winter of next, and by the time the new season rolls around I should be good to come back fully. My contract runs for long enough that it would work, and I spoke to Jonatan already about a renewal after that. I think it makes sense to do it now,” Ingrid explained, as the Spaniard listened to her thoughtfully. 

“You have thought about it,” she concedes, trying not to allow herself to grow too excited. The thought of a baby, her own baby with Ingrid, was more than something to be thrilled about. 

“The only thing is…” Ingrid trails off, and the amber eyed woman’s eyebrows furrow in an instant, as she leans in toward the Norwegian. 

“What is it?” She asked softly, the care in her voice quite clear. 

“I don’t think I would want to do it more than once. At least not right now…after I retire perhaps? But I don’t want to take off playing like that a whole second time,” she admitted, and Mapi’s entire body softened. 

“That is completely understandable. We can start with the one, and go from there,” she replied very matter-of-factly. Ingrid bit her lip just slightly, feeling a flush rise up in her cheeks because of the excitement. 

“Does this mean we’re having a baby?” She asked, her voice filled with hope. Mapi appeared to be tearing up beside her as well, a surprise considering that the brunette was not usually a crier. 

“I think we might be,” the center back confirmed, as both of their hearts flew with excitement. 

—

“Are you sure I can’t come in?” Mapi pleaded for what was probably the seventeenth time in the span of a minute, and Ingrid took a deep breath before answering. 

“I said I wanted you out there, so just stay. I will be out in less than five minutes, I know you can go longer than five minutes without seeing me!” The dark haired woman called back from behind the closed door. 

The Norwegian was in the bathroom, having just peed on a stick, while her wife camped right outside the door, her cheek pressed against the wood. Ingrid had said she wanted to do this alone, and Mapi respected that…almost. 

But at least her incessant pestering would be good practice for when the baby came. 

If…if there was even a baby to come. Ingrid didn’t really feel all that different since her insemination two weeks ago, which felt more like a bad sign than a good one. Surely she would have felt different if she was pregnant, right? 

The doctor did say that there was a chance it wouldn’t work on the first try, but the thought made Ingrid far too discouraged to even begin to think of. She would cross that bridge if she came to it, she decided. 

“Three minutes is up!” Mapi called out from behind the closed door, her clock app open. 

“Okay, I’m looking,” Ingrid called out, while the Spaniard paced back and forth outside the door. She wanted to respect the Norwegian’s boundaries, she really did, but she was equally as eager as her wife to know if they were pregnant. 

After the taller woman had said she was going to check, the silence in their house seemed to stretch for an endless amount of time. The brunette waited with her breath held, and as the time stretched on longer and longer she began to grow more and more worried that it was not going to be a positive result. 

Just as she was about to say something though, the door to the bathroom went flying open, and the dark haired woman was shoving the pregnancy test in her face. 

“It is positive!” She squealed, clapping her hands together as Mapi took the test, staring down at it with huge eyes. 

“It worked?!” She asked, looking up at Ingrid with alarm. When the green eyed woman nodded, tears immediately began to well up in her eyes. The Norwegian’s excitement dulled just slightly, suddenly concerned about the Spaniard beginning to cry. 

“No, no, amor, it is good! It is a good result, no?” Ingrid asked, gripping her wifes shoulders as Mapi nodded her head insistently, fat, bumble bee like tears rolling down her cheeks. 

“It’s a perfect result!” She sobbed, blubbered practically, and Ingrid looked at her wife as though she had grown a second head. 

Mapi was not a crier. The Spaniard was typically a very happy person, and when she was not, it wasn’t typical to find her crying. Ingrid was pretty sure she could count on both hands the number of times she had seen the center back cry, even now that they were married. 

So to see her crying was…unusual, if not a tiny bit alarming. 

“Are you okay?” She asks, as Mapi reaches down to touch her hand gently to Ingrid’s stomach, and she’s crying and smiling brightly all at the same time, somehow.

“I am SO happy,” she replied easily, and Ingrid felt herself relaxing as she realized that they were happy tears, and that everything was okay. 

“Hola mi sol, we are so excited to meet you, we are so thrilled that you are here,” Mapi whispered to Ingrid’s stomach, and the Norwegian now found herself tearing up as she realized what this really meant. 

They were having a baby. 

—

The decision was made not to tell the team until Ingrid was thirteen weeks along. 

All of the necessary staff was informed, and the Norwegian had been cleared to continue playing as she usually did, if not a bit more on the light side. But it was nothing to arouse attention, and honestly the pregnancy had been going very smoothly. She hardly had any symptoms, and if it were not for the continued positive tests and the fact that her breasts were so tender, she would not have believed she was pregnant. 

But the thing that is absolutely going to break their cover? 

Mapi fucking León. 

In the last several weeks, the brunette had gone from her usual, slightly emotionally repressed self, to a complete and utter puddle. 

All of the sudden she was crying at the world's most random things. A cute cat video, Alexia saying she had a good day at training, Jana announcing her renewal at Barcelona. 

Which was very cute…if not for the fact that she had already known about the announcement for several weeks now already. And all of the girls were starting to grow 

“Mapi, they’re going to catch onto us,” Ingrid whispered harshly to her wife as they walked out to the car, her gaze more than a little judgemental. The amber eyed woman looked back at her with absolutely no amusement, clearly not thrilled by the feedback. 

“I do not know what to tell you amor I cannot just turn it off! I don’t know how you do it,” she grumbled as a stray tear leaked out of her eye, and Ingrid shot her a look. 

“What do you mean–how I do it?” She questioned with a raised brow, and Mapi shrugged, gesturing wildly with her hands. 

“Oh I don’t know - you cry more than me!” She announced, and the dark haired woman looked over at her as she sat down in the car. 

“Not right now I don’t!” Ingrid couldn’t help but laugh as her wife made an indignant noise next to her, but had absolutely no comeback for that. 

—

“Shh! I can hear them walking in, get it together!” 

Mapi and Ingrid turned to one another as they heard someone whisper scream that, in the direction of what sounded suspiciously like the locker room. 

As it turns out, Mapi’s behavior had begun to worry not just some of their teammates…but rather all of them. They had all stayed late one day to discuss, and decided that the best course of action was to ask the Spaniard if everything was okay. They decided to do it as a team, as a show of support. 

They weren’t sure what was going on with the center back, but she was very clearly going through something, in their eyes. They did not want it to go unnoticed or undiscussed. 

Which was how Mapi and Ingrid walked hand and hand into a changing room intervention, when the green eyed woman was only nine weeks pregnant. 

And really, looking back it was a miracle they had managed to last as far as they did, given how strange the brunette was acting. 

Which led them to right here, right now, standing in front of their entire time, who were all looking at Mapi with varying levels of concern. 

“Uh…hi guys?” Mapi asked more than said her greeting, and it was Alexia who stepped up and forward to greet her friend, clearly the leader of whatever this conversation is going to be. 

“Hi Mapi. We need to talk to you,” the captain explained as she looked around at the group, who all nodded at her. 

“We are worried about you Mapi. Clearly something is going on, and that is okay! We want to be here, support you, however we can. But we can’t help if we don’t know what is going on,” Alexia’s words were soothing, and the Spanish center back could feel the panic inside of her growing larger with the minute. 

She really was not a good liar. She wasn’t the worst liar, but she wasn’t a good one either. 

She considered telling them that it was something private, but that was only going to start more discussion and concern among the team. All of the girls look worried, and she feels bad for concerning them with her behavior, even if it was accidental. 

But oh god, Ingrid is going to be furious if she tells them, Mapi is sure. 

When the brunette chances a glance at her wife, she’s surprised to find that the Norwegian doesn’t seem annoyed but rather amused by the whole thing. More than likely, she, like Mapi, realized that they were fighting a losing battle of trying to keep this a secret. 

When a question forms on the amber eyed woman’s face, Ingrid responds with a small nod, and Mapi knows that she has her permission. 

She lets out a sigh, rubbing her hand over her face before she looks back at her team. They are all looking at her with confusion, and she decides to just tell it to them straight. 

“We are pregnant!” She announces, looking at Ingrid briefly, before she looks back to her team. 

Everyone seems to be stunned into complete and utter silence. Someone lets out a gasp, and Alexia’s jaw looks as though it would be on the floor if it were not still attached to her cheek. 

The blonde captain looks from Mapi’s face to her stomach and back again, unable to gather up any words for a few seconds. 

“You are pregnant?!” She asks in complete disbelief, and the center back blanches at the comment, her own jaw dropping open in shock as she looks down at her own stomach, as though checking to make sure that she wasn’t actually pregnant. 

“What? No! Ingrid is, not me!” She rushed to amend, frantically gesturing to her wife, and the midfielder looked from her best friend to her best friend’s wife, who went from looking unimpressed by her wife’s gesturing to holding up her hands as though to say surprise! to the whole team. 

“You are pregnant?” Alexia repeats, except this time it is directed at Ingrid and not the brunette standing next to her. The Norwegian blushes, before she nods her head in the affirmative. 

“I am. It was a little early still, I am only nine weeks along. We weren’t planning on telling anyone until I was done with the first trimester, but apparently someone can’t keep a lid on any secret ever,” Ingrid explained to the collective, still holding Mapi’s hand. 

When she focuses back on Alexia though, she finds that the Spanish captain appears to be deep in thought. 

“Are you not happy Ale?” Mapi asked suddenly, and there is insecurity laced in her voice that the whole team can tell. That seems to break the blonde out of her trance, and she jumps to shake her head. 

“No, I am thrilled for the both of you!” She explains, and her tone is nothing but genuine. 

“Then what is wrong? You look like you are doing mental math,” the amber eyed woman comments nervously, still a little confused and worried. 

“I’m just–Ingrid is the pregnant one, no?” Alexia receives confirmation of this when they both nod. 

“Then why the hell are you the one that is crying all the time! Isn’t that supposed to be her job?” The captain points out, and Ingrid’s face raises in triumph as Mapi’s face falls in annoyance. 

“That is exactly what I have been saying Ale!” The Norwegian gloated happily, while Mapi crossed her arms over her chest in annoyance. 

“I have recently converted to being an empath! I have to sympathize with her pain!” She cried, and received twenty two equally unimpressed gazes staring right back at her. She deflates like a balloon at the pressure, throwing her hands up. 

“Okay fine, you all win! I’m just weird, I do not know!” She finally admitted, not knowing what else to say. That seemed to make everyone happy, as the whole team stood with excitement, making their way over to hug both the Spaniard and the Norwegian. 

“I can’t wait, we are going to have a Blaugrana baby!” Pina squealed, and at those words Alexia lit up like a child on Christmas, realization dawning on her face as she turned back to the couple. 

“Oh my god!” She properly squealed, taking both Mapi and Ingrid by surprise. The two looked at one another before they looked back at Alexia. 

“What is it capitana?” The dark haired woman asked, shaking her head slightly in confusion. 

“I AM GOING TO BE A TÍA!”

---

Note: Since I know someone might ask - if you would like to read the fic of when Elena meets the Barcelona girls for the first time as a baby, it can be found on ao3 at I Wanna Thank You Baby, You Make It Feel Like Christmas

#ingrid x mapi x daughter #ingrid engen #mapi leon #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #jana fernandez #claudia pina