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joelmillerisapunk · 3 months

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my dirty little secret

no outbreak bfd!Joel Miller x f!reader

masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 5,422

↳ Summary: Since staying at the Millers, you've done nothing but tease Joel, seeing just how far you can push him. Joel's tired of it and decides it's time to take control of the situation.

~ Or ~

↳ Joel's tired of being hard all the fucking time while you're around and gives you a taste of your own medicine.

↳ Warnings: 18+, soft but dom, large age gap (make it your own 🩷), teasing, unprotected p in v, use of "daddy, baby girl, good girl" slight use of "slut" and "brat"

↳ Notes: Hi, this is the first fic I've ever posted anywhere and the first smut I've ever written. I'm scared beyond belief, but I hope you enjoy 🥰 dividers by @saradika-graphics. This was inspired from many different songs and that scene in preoutbreak where Joel's on the phone with Tommy in the gif I horribly made but it gave 'me giving daddy a nice treat while he's on the phone'.

Joel tried to avert his gaze, but it was near impossible when you left the door halfway open. It seemed like an intentional act, a performance meant solely for him. The way you nonchalantly slipped off your shirt, your bra following suit, revealing your bare shoulders and neck, was a sight that he couldn't ignore. He knew he shouldn't be watching, that it was wrong on so many levels. You were significantly younger than him and, more importantly, Sarah's best friend. But when your jeans dropped to the floor, and you bent over to remove them, Joel couldn't help the surge of blood that rushed to his cock.

He yearned for your panties to join the pile on the floor. As you started putting on your pajamas, he remained transfixed, watching your hips sway as you donned the tiniest pajama shorts he had ever seen, and the t-shirt from the previous night. He felt an urgent need to leave before you realized he was there, watching. But he couldn't bring himself to move.

Ever since you started staying with him and Sarah, you'd been a constant presence in his dreams. He couldn't fathom why, but the thought of you was never far from his mind. The dreams were always so vivid, so real, and they left him yearning for more. He wasn't sure if it was you or your presence that attracted him. But the urge to reach out and touch you, to feel the softness of your skin under his fingers, was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

In his dreams, he'd already crossed that line, reaching out to you, pulling you close. His cock twitched at the memory, and he groaned softly, his imagination running wild. When he finally opened his eyes, he realized you had finished dressing. He quickly left, hoping to escape before you caught him. But the image of you, half-naked, was burned into his mind, a sight he knew he wouldn't be able to forget anytime soon.

As soon as you were certain Joel had left, you tiptoed to the door, peeking around the corner. Seeing no one, I giggled to myself and closed the door. The thought of Joel had been consuming you ever since you first met him and Sarah during your first day of college. Watching him lug around heavy boxes, his thick arms straining with the effort, had sparked something within you. You couldn't help but imagine what those large hands would feel like on your body.

So, when you found yourself in need of a place to stay, you couldn't have been more grateful for the Miller's hospitality. They welcomed you with open arms, offering you a room as long as you needed it. And you couldn't resist the urge to test the waters, to see just how far you could push Joel.

In your mind, you were determined to break him, to make it impossible for him to resist you. Every glance, every touch, was a calculated move on your part. You wanted him to see you, to really see you, and to want you just as much as you wanted him.

Your mind wandered back to the way his eyes had lingered on your body, the way his breath had caught in his throat. It was a small victory, but it was enough to keep you going, to keep pushing the boundaries.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slowly stirred from your slumber. The scent of pancakes and coffee wafted up from downstairs, mingling with the faint sound of music coming from down the hall. Your bed was soft and inviting, but you knew you needed to start your day.

You made your way to the bathroom, still half-asleep, eager to take a quick shower and start your day. But as you opened the door, you were met with an unexpected sight. Joel was in the shower, completely unaware of your presence.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. But you couldn't resist the temptation to take a peek. You positioned yourself behind the privacy wall, peeking around the corner just enough to catch a glimpse.

Joel was soaping himself up, completely oblivious to your presence. You couldn't help but notice the way the water droplets slid down his muscular arms and chest, tracing a path through the greyed hairs that decorated his body. You imagined what it would be like to run your fingers down his toned chest, feeling the strength and warmth of his body beneath your fingertips.

The sight of him took your breath away, and you couldn't help but feel a stirring of desire deep within you. You had always found Joel attractive, but in that moment, you realized just how much he had been consuming your thoughts.

Joel suddenly turned off the shower and turned around, catching you mid-peek. Your eyes were still glued to him, and you couldn't help but stare at his god-like form, his body dripping with water. He couldn't help but smirk at you, his muscles glistening in the light.

Joel started walking toward you, stopping inches from your face. You could smell the body wash he had been using, and you felt your heart racing in your chest. You were frozen in place, unsure of what to do.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller, I thought the shower was free," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel just smiled at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"It's okay, darlin', I don't mind the company," he said, gently touching your face. You felt his strong hands on your skin, and you couldn't help but close your eyes for a moment, enjoying the embrace.

Joel leaned closer to you, his face almost touching yours. He put his other hand around your waist and pulled you against his wet, naked body. You could feel his warmth radiating off of him, and you couldn't help but shiver in anticipation. "Mr. Miller - I," you started to say, but Joel interrupted you mid-sentence, covering your mouth with the hand resting on the side of your face.

"Shhhh," he whispered, pressing his lips against your ear. You shivered slightly as he sucked softly on your earlobe, sending goosebumps up and down your spine. He began to stroke your hair, and he whispered again, "You can't help it, can you? You wanted this, didn't you?" His voice was husky and deep, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your heart was racing, and you couldn't help but nod your head in agreement.

"You been with a man before?" he asked in a low voice as he moved his lips further south and down your neck. Joel's tongue flicked out lightly, grazing your collarbone, and you sighed at the sensation.

But you quickly remembered Joel was asking you a question, and you had to answer honestly.

You shook your head, "No" you squeaked quietly, "No sir," the truth was you had been with other men before, but they were no men compared to who you were with right now. Joel chuckled a bit, his cock definitely growing now.

"Oh sweet girl, I'm gonna show you how a real man's supposed to take care of you," he said, his voice low and husky. Suddenly Joel pushed you against the tile wall and pinned your hands above your head. He kissed you deeply, then moved his lips down your jaw, neck, and collarbone, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As soon as Joel caught you peaking behind the wall, he lost all resolve. He knew you were playing some game, but right now all he could think about was getting inside you. With you in his arms, pressed against the wall, Joel pressed his lips to your neck, breathing you in and letting out a groan. Your nipples hardened in anticipation through the fabric of your thin pajama shirt.

Just as Joel was about to take you to his bed and fuck you senseless, he heard Sarah's rushed footsteps making their way up the stairs. Without wasting another second, Joel carried you to the shower and turned it on, hoping to muffle any sounds you might make. The water was cold at first, but Joel quickly adjusted the temperature, and you gasped as the warm water cascaded down your body.

"Dad? Breakfast is ready. It's gonna get cold!" Sarah called out, clearly wondering where Joel was.

"Uh yeah sorry kiddo, I'm coming," Joel called back, his voice strained with restraint. As he turned the shower off, you tried to pull his hand off your mouth, but his grip only tightened.

"Hurry up!" you both heard before the rushed steps back down the stairs. Joel let go of your mouth and pulled you to his bare chest. He buried his nose in your neck and inhaled deeply. You moaned in contentment.

"I think it might be time for me to get out, baby girl," Joel murmured, his voice low and husky. He could feel how needy you were, and he was desperate to get inside you. Your body warmed furiously, and you nodded against his shoulder before slowly pushing yourself away from him. Before leaving the shower, he grabbed your chin in his hands and tilted it, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Daddy's gonna take care of you, don't worry." He grinned before wrapping a towel around his waist. He left the bathroom, leaving you to get dressed and compose yourself.

After your little encounter in the shower, Joel couldn't help but steal glances at you throughout dinner. He sat across from you at the table, trying to maintain his composure as he listened to Sarah chatter on about her day. But his thoughts kept wandering back to you, to the way you felt in his arms, to the way you responded to his touch.

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for betraying Sarah's trust, but he couldn't deny the feelings that had awakened within him. You were a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his otherwise mundane life. You made him feel alive, and he couldn't help but be drawn to you.

You tried to focus on the conversation, but you couldn't help but steal glances at Joel as well. You couldn't help but think about the shower, about the way his body felt against yours, about the way he looked at you with such intensity. You hadn't even kissed him yet, but you couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him.

Taking advantage of the distraction, you allowed your foot to brush against Joel's under the table. You felt him stiffen slightly, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he subtly moved his foot closer to yours, letting you know he was enjoying it.

As Sarah kept talking, you couldn't help but let your mind wander. You imagined what it would be like to kiss Joel, to feel his lips on yours. You imagined what it would be like to run your hands over his body, to feel his muscles tense beneath your fingertips. Before you knew it, your foot had made its way up Joel's inner thigh, stopping just short of his hardening cock. Joel jolted in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as he felt your foot against him.

He tried to shift in his seat to create distance, but your leg always seemed to find its way back. This time, it made its way to the tip of his very hard cock. Before he could think, he quickly put his hand on top of your foot to hold it down. But it was too late. Sarah looked confused when he did so, and Joel just smiled at her apologetically. He couldn't say anything because he felt like he might come any second. When he finally regained his composure, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I'll clean up in a bit, need to use the washroom." Without missing a beat, he bolted out of his chair and was walking a little too fast upstairs.

After your footplay under the table, Joel excused himself and went upstairs to collect himself. When he returned, he found the kitchen cleaned up and you sitting on the couch. He sat down next to you and asked, "Where's Sarah?" You looked over at him, smirking playfully. "She said your cooking made her sick."

Joel laughed at your comment and moved closer to you. He brushed his finger along the soft flesh on the inside of your thigh, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "You're playing a dangerous game little girl, and I think you know that." He whispered huskily against your skin, leaning closer to you until his lips touched your neck. He gently nibbled your earlobe before whispering, "But, I don't mind playing dirty."

He placed his mouth softly against your earlobe, causing you to shiver with anticipation. His hand was now moving further and further up your inner thigh until it just brushed over your throbbing clit. His lips still hovered by your ear. "You're quite the little brat, aren't you?" He murmured. "Thinking you can tease me like that, huh? Gotta play by my rules right now, I'm in charge tonight... and you're gonna behave, is that understood little girl?"

But you were still feeling a little defiant. You wanted to see just how far you could push him. You pulled away, keeping your face inches from his. "You think you can tame me?" You questioned, watching as his eyes darkened slightly. Joel grabbed your face roughly with his calloused hands, causing you to back down a little in surprise.

"I don't like the word tame. I prefer the word... break." He said, his voice low and commanding. "If I'm gonna take charge, I'm gonna take it completely. I promise you, you're not gonna be wild by the end of the night. Not with the way you've been goin' around acting like a little slut. I'm not gonna sit back and watch you throw yourself at me. I'm not gonna be satisfied just sitting there waitin' for you. I'm gonna fuck you until you can't walk. I don't plan on being patient tonight, so unless you want me to take you right here, right now..."

Before Joel could finish his sentence, you heard footsteps begin to descend the stairs. Joel immediately released your face and turned towards the staircase. You stood up, your heart beginning to pound wildly in your chest as rushes of adrenaline and arousal rushed through you. Joel stood up as well, taking a deep breath and attempting to steady himself. He glanced at you, and you could see the hunger in his eyes. You bit your lip, staring nervously back at him,

The footsteps grew louder as Sarah descended the stairs, and it felt like time slowed as you both waited for her to make it down. She looked at the two of you suspiciously. "Uh, hey. Was just gonna watch a movie." she pointed to the couch where you and Joel had been sitting.

"Well, I think I'm gonna turn in early. I'm feeling a little tired. Enjoy your movie." You said, before heading upstairs. Joel's gaze watched your figure retreat up the steps, and he turned back to Sarah. "I got some paperwork to catch back up on. Enjoy your movie kiddo." He walked past Sarah and headed upstairs.

He was going to go to his room but something made him want to check in on you. So Joel approached your door and let it creak open slightly. To his dismay, you weren't there. Probably in the bathroom, he thought.

So he headed back down the hall to his room, and when he opened the door, there you were, on his bed.

Joel's jaw dropped slightly when his eyes connected with yours. He could barely focus on anything other than you, how you were lying, how you were breathing, how your hair looked, and how perfect your body was. Joel slowly closed the door after him and took a couple of slow steps toward you. You laid perfectly still, watching him with wide doe eyes - the ones of a tease, a brat who needed a real man to take control of her...and Joel was gonna deliver.

Joel made a quick glance to his door, before turning back to you. "Are you trying to kill me?"

"Nah, I just thought you deserved a little surprise." You teased, while letting your hand run delicately down your body and under the band of your shorts. Joel was done with your games, your teasing. He was about to fuck you like you had never been fucked before. The look in your eyes was almost as arousing as the way your hand worked its way down your body.

You were giving him a look that screamed submission. It said you would do whatever he said if he only commanded it of you. So he leaned down, grabbing a chunk of your hair roughly in his hand, forcing your head upwards, causing you to gasp in surprise and arousal.

"You do exactly what daddy says, and I'll treat'ya real good baby." Joel, as if on cue, reached his other hand underneath your shorts. His fingers found their way to your pussy, lightly caressing you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn't help whimpering and moaning. Joel began massaging more intensely, increasing your pleasure with each second. It was all too much, and Joel was enjoying every second of it. Your moans became higher pitched and more desperate as he continued, "Daddy please."

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

He took his hands off of you and backed away from the bed completely. He sat in the chair in the corner and slowly undid his belt, letting it fall to the floor. "Come on, be daddy's good girl and get undressed."

As he sat there waiting, he continued to unbutton his pants and release the zipper. He never took his eyes off you as he let his cock free from the confines of all material. You couldn't help but whimper a little at the sight.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood from the bed and started with your top, ever so slowly lifting it over your head and letting it land beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a pleasurable groan.

You walked closer to Joel and grasped the waistband of your shorts. As soon as your tank top fell, and you walked toward him, you felt Joel place his hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you."

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he just got out of. "Bend over," he ordered. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach your ass. You let out a shaky breath as he knelt behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every square inch of skin that came through. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight, at the perfect globes sitting inches from his face.

When the words "Daddy please" came from your sweet lips, Joel couldn't help but smile. A rush of heat landed in his abdomen, and he knew he had to take control of the situation.

"Come on now, nice and slow baby, give daddy something nice to watch." He motioned for you to start undressing.

You stood up from the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly lifted your top over your head, letting it fall to the floor beside you. As soon as your top hit the floor and your breasts were exposed, Joel let out a low groan of pleasure.

You walked closer to him, your legs feeling like jelly as you grasped the waistband of your shorts. As you began to slide them down, you felt Joel's hands on your wrist. "Let daddy help you," he said, his voice deep and husky.

With your wrist still in his hand, he led you to the chair he had just been sitting in. "Bend over," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You did as you were told, bending over the chair and exposing your ass to him. Joel pulled the chair closer, so he could reach you better, and you let out a shaky breath as you felt him kneel behind you.

He slowly removed your shorts and panties, taking his time to admire every inch of your skin that came into view. Finally, the materials were down your ankles and hitting the floor. Joel let out a deep primal moan, almost a groan at the sight of your perfect ass sitting inches from his face.

You weren't sure what you expected when you came into Joel's room, but here you were, face down, ass up on his bed. When Joel's large hands found their way onto the curves of your ass, squeezing tightly, you couldn't help but let out a gasp and whine.

You lifted your hips slightly, trying to relieve the ache forming between your legs. You could feel Joel's warm breath against your inner thighs as he teased you, inching upward to your clit.

Ever so lightly, he swiped his tongue over your clit, and the feeling sent waves of shivers shooting down your spine. You began to buck your hips up against his lips, trying to encourage him to continue. But Joel stopped suddenly and moved up, planting a kiss on your shoulder.

"Now let's see your pretty little mouth get to work, hmm?" he growled huskily into your ear.

You whimpered, not sure how to answer, too much in a lust overload, unable to speak or even process any coherent thoughts. Joel could tell you were caught up in the moment, gently guiding you to your knees so you were facing him.

"Come here," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

Without hesitation, you crawled forward, positioning yourself between Joel's legs as he sat back on the chair. You placed your hands on his thighs as he guided you to kneel before him.

Once you were positioned, Joel bent forward, his hands reaching out to tangle in your hair. He guided your head down towards his lap, and you couldn't help but moan at the sight of his hard length in front of you.

You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the velvety smoothness of his skin over the steel hardness beneath. Joel hissed in pleasure as you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down his length.

"Open your mouth," Joel commanded, his voice low and husky.

You obeyed, parting your lips and letting him guide himself inside. You could feel him hit the back of your throat, and you struggled to suppress your gag reflex as he began to move in and out of your mouth.

Joel's hands tightened in your hair, pulling slightly as he thrust deeper. You could feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you tried your best to relax and take him in.

You could feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as you sucked him, your hand still moving in time with your mouth. The feeling of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue, it was all so intoxicating. But before you could take him over the edge, Joel's lips met yours in a fiery kiss, his tongue parting your lips and exploring every inch of your mouth. It was a kiss full of passion and desire, a kiss that made your head spin and your heart race.

His hands roamed your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You moaned as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples until they were hard and aching for more. Joel broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and across your collarbone. You gasped as his teeth grazed your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

His hands were everywhere, touching and exploring every inch of your body until you were trembling with need. You couldn't help but whimper as his lips found your nipples, his tongue swirling around them before he sucked them into his mouth. Joel's hands travelled lower, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. You could feel his hard length pressed against you, and you couldn't help but grind against him.

"Please, Joel," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Joel's eyes darkened as he looked at you, his voice low and commanding. "Beg for it. Beg for what you want baby."

You whimpered, your mind hazy with lust as you tried to find the words. "Please, Joel. I need you. I need you inside me." His plan to have you please him orally was quickly forgotten as his overwhelming desire for you took over, he needed to have you. Now. Joel stood up, pulling you to your feet. Joel's grip on your hair tightened as he pulled you to your feet, his eyes blazing with desire. "You want me inside you, baby?" he growled, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with desire.

"Good girl," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're such a good girl, begging for what you want. Say it again.”

"Want you inside me, Joel. Please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's hands travelled down your body, cupping your ass and lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your core pressing against his hard length. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, please, Joel. I need you," you moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Joel walked over to the bed, laying you down on your back. He hovered over you, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly entered you. You gasped as he filled you, your body stretching to accommodate him.

"You feel so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his lips trailing down your neck as he continued to thrust into you. "So tight, so perfect."

"Yes, Daddy," you moaned, your hips meeting his thrust for thrust. "You feel so good inside me."

"Beg for it, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "Beg daddy to make you come."

"Please, Daddy," you begged, your voice trembling with need. "I need to come. Need you to make me come."

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me, baby," Joel growled, his voice commanding. "Come for Daddy now."

With one final thrust, you came, your body convulsing with pleasure as you tried to stay quiet.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice full of satisfaction. "You're such a good girl, coming for Daddy like that."

Joel pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But before you could protest, he flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

"Daddy's going to take you from behind now," he growled, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack.

You couldn't help but moan at the sting, your body tensing with anticipation. Joel positioned himself behind you, his hard length pressing against your entrance.

"You ready for me, baby?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes, Daddy," you whimpered, your body trembling with need.

With one swift thrust, Joel was inside of you, filling you completely. You couldn't help the way your body trembled with pleasure.

Joel's hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he began to thrust into you. Each movement sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body, your moans and whimpers filling the room.

"You like that, baby?" Joel asked, his voice full of raw need.

"Yes, Daddy. It feels so good," you gasped, your body begging for more.

Joel's thrusts became harder, faster, his pace matching the desperation in your voice. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tense with pleasure.

"Come for me again, baby," Joel commanded, his voice low and dominating. "I want to feel you come apart around me." Joel's fingers dug into your hips as he continued to thrust into you, each movement causing you to moan and whimper with pleasure. He could feel your body tensing up once again, your walls clenching around him as you got closer and closer to another orgasm.

"That's it, baby. I want to feel you milking my cock with your tight little pussy," Joel growled, his voice full of raw need and desire.

His words sent you over the edge, your body convulsing with pleasure as you screamed out Joel's name into your own hands, to try to keep quiet. You felt him pulse inside of you, his warm release filling you up as he reached his own climax.

Joel collapsed onto your back, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as he caught his breath.

"Fuck, baby. You’re such a good girl aren't cha?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

Joel slowly pulled out of you, leaving you feeling empty and wanting once again. But before you could protest, he turned you over onto your back and climbed on top of you.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby," he growled, his eyes blazing with desire.

He captured your lips in a passionate kiss, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as his hands roamed your body. He trailed his lips down your neck, across your collarbone, and down to your breasts.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue before moving onto the next. You couldn't help but moan, your body responding to his touch once again.

Joel's hand travelled lower, his fingers finding their way to your clit. He began to rub slow circles around it, causing you to gasp and writhe beneath him.

"Please, Joel. I need more," you begged, your voice trembling with need.

Joel's fingers dipped inside of you, curling up to hit that perfect spot. He began to thrust them in and out of you, his pace matching the urgency in your voice.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to another orgasm, your body tensing up as you reached the edge.

"Come on darlin’ I want to feel you come all over my fingers," Joel commanded, his voice dominating.

With one final thrust of his fingers, you shattered and your body convulsed in the same motions it had the last two or three, or - you had lost count at this point.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean. You couldn't help but watch him, your body still trembling with aftershocks of pleasure.

"Mmmm, you taste so fucking good, baby," Joel murmured, his eyes blazing with desire.

He collapsed onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms and holding you close.

"I think I'm gonna keep ya around," Joel chuckled.

You couldn't help but smile, your body still trembling with pleasure. "I think I'm gonna let you," you whispered back.

You weren't sure what the future held for the two of you, but in that moment, you were happy. You closed your eyes as you snuggled closer to Joel, feeling safe and protected in his arms.

Thank you for reading. Take a second to let me know what you thot and I'll send you pictures of my baby cows 🐮🥹

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #daddy!joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal

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ratioaven · 1 month

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spoilers for 2.1 !!!!!!!

aventurine rant, please keep in my mind that these are my own thoughts and interpretations. im extremely sleep deprived lol so im sorry if i got anything wrong

something thats been on my mind since yesterday are these lines.

from the start to me, it was very clear aventurine had self esteem/worth issues because of how he treats his own life, but the line that says “the other hand is below the table, clutching your chips for dear life” stuck out to me.

i always assumed aventurine was so incredibly confident in his luck but in reality he is afraid. he’s terrified that he’ll lose. it’s an act. he convinces himself, he fools himself, he forces himself to act like he’s confident he’ll win, when in reality even if he does win, he’s still clutching his chips under the table for dear life because of how terrified he is of losing.

that really messed with me to be honest. i feel tricked and what’s ironic is that he tricks his opponents into thinking he’s confident, and he also tricked ME the player but really, this made my heart break in two because i had absolutely no clue up until now.

so why does he act this way

all throughout his life, aventurine has had his pride stripped away. just try to imagine being in his shoes. i myself do not think i could deal with the situations he was put in. i cannot stress this enough, aventurine has a mark on his neck that screams to him that he has once belonged to someone. he has had his pride stripped away from him countless times. but it’s ironic because aventurine is introduced as a very prideful and flashy man. you start to realize the front aventurine puts on is his own way of protecting himself. it’s how he’s able to live basically. i wanna go into more detail but i will later.

as it was said before, aventurine is an uptight person who worries. he is extremely afraid of losing and he has a massive inferiority complex. aventurine may seem like a go lucky person on the outside, but in actuality he is not. he is not happy. he has no self worth, he believes he has nothing to live for, and he has no problem with throwing his life away. aventurine believes the only good thing he brings to the table is his luck.

but this brings me to my next point.

aventurine may not realize it, but he is so much more than his luck. he has so many good qualities and he doesn’t seem to realize it. even if some of it may be an act, he’s still able to pull it off. he’s still an intelligent business man who is both charming and cunning EVEN if it may be an act, those are still amazing qualities to have in his line of work.

but more importantly, aventurine chose to live. despite witnessing his family die, being a slave, and tortured, he chose to live. he chooses to. i cannot stress this enough. this man has gone through hell and back. he truly has had an incredibly difficult life to the point where my heart hurts so so badly for him. he made the decision to stay alive.

that says more than enough about his character.

and last but not least, aventurine wants one thing, and that is to be with his family. he’s witnessed horrible things in his life that no one should ever go through. he lost everyone close to him, he lost his people. he has nothing to live for and he values his life so little to the point where he has no problem with dying. the only real thing that he wants is just to see his family.

and he will one day, but in the meantime, i genuinely hope this man can find a reason to live, and ratio already gave him one just by that note. i just truly wish aventurine happiness while he lives the rest of his life.

i guess this is a topic that really hits me hard because i know all too well that choosing to live life isn’t easy sometimes and i just love aventurine.

let’s all appreciate how truly amazing his character is.

#i didnt proof read this #aventurine thoughts #aventurine #hsr #hsr 2.1 #hsr aventurine #honkai star rail

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saksukei · 7 months

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simon ‘ghost’ riley and his love languages

masterlist | i think i may have wrote too much??

there’s one thing lieutenant simon ghost riley knew when he began dating you. he had to be the best version of himself or at least try. you were the only person he met that he ever wanted to try for.

i. words of affirmation

initially, simon has trouble adjusting to calling you any pet names and just calls you by your name. it isn’t until he gets comfortable enough to say, “love” which is his go to nickname. he says them only in private though.

and then it’s nicknames galore. he calls you his sunshine because he literally adores your smile so much!!! the type to say, “i brought flowers for you. they needed sunshine and you were the obvious choice.” and he also says things like, “my darling angel” when you get him a cup of tea.

most importantly, if you ever do something that’s like daunting or difficult for you or if you learn something he’s gonna say “that’s my girl, always so intelligent.” if the two of you ever hit the gym together and you hit more reps than your regular ones, he’s gonna be so happy for you. “atta girl,” he kisses your cheek as he pats your back.

ii. gifts

he wasn’t very heavy on gift giving. that was until he saw something that he knew you’d like and bought it. and the smile that graced your face with the stars in your eyes made him want to do it more often.

and he felt his heart jump when he saw you cherish the letters he’d written when he was deployed. ever since then, he’s been leaving cute little notes for you, making handmade things you’d like such as bracelets, necklaces. he knows how to sew and he sewed a cute little shirt for you. this also brings me to the fact that he likes knitting a lot and loves making mug warmers? it’s endearing really. he can also carve wood apparently? so he makes sweet little decoration pieces for your apartment. (but also lumber jack simon making me insane)

all in all, he loves giving gifts. he’s the type to make a special notebook for just you and put pressed flowers on each page. “got you something you liked, darling.”

iii. acts of service

simon’s strongest way of expressing love is through acts of service. he’s a military man and a firm believer of ‘actions speak louder than words.’ i’ve said it before that his eye for detail is insane and he uses it in the relationship as well. alongside with his ability to literally commit you to memory, he remembers everything. (except birthdays, but he’ll remember yours).

from bending down to tie your shoelaces, to refilling snacks that he knows you like, to picking up heavy stuff, to guiding you with a hand on your waist, everything really!!! can read your facial expressions like it’s the only thing he knows and can immediately figured out what you like and don’t like. “you okay?”

and god, he's also aware of the sidewalk rule! never lets you walk on the outer side. the type to place a hand on corners and edges so that you don’t get hurt. he’s always looking out for you, ensuring you don't have anything in your way. he’ll always stand behind you because he feels it gives him a better chance to protect you.

iv. quality time

such a sucker for spending time with you but that’s mainly because he knows his is limited. and he would never risk not spending another minute with you. from watching movies, to watching you do make up in front of the vanity, to reading books together, training together, having tea. he finds your presence alone to be comforting. it's like you deal with all of his inner thoughts and reservations without even knowing it.

he also enjoyed doing mundane domestic tasks with you like getting groceries, setting up ikea furniture, cooking and cleaning together, honestly he loves it all. especially if there’s some jazz music playing in the background. i can absolutely imagine rubbing a little flour on simon’s face and he’ll get so offended, chasing you around the entire house, pining you down, just to do the same to you.

v. physical touch

simon is hesitant to become physically affectionate. that's not to say that he doesn’t enjoy it, it's just that when you’ve been met with violence all your life, gentleness is hardly something you expect.

but god, did he want to melt into a puddle when you held his hand or when you pressed a sweet kiss to his cheek. he swears he forgot how to breathe. and little by little, he got comfortable. hands hesitant to be on your waist, until that's the only place you found them, his head always nuzzled in the crook of your neck. “this might just be the favorite part of my day,” he says softly.

from lacing fingers, to kissing you the first thing in the morning, once simon’s comfortable, he won’t go a day without being intimate. “c’mere give me a kiss” to “you’re my good luck charm, love.”

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luc1fersducky · 2 months

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Luci x Fem!Reader (smut)

WARNINGS FOR BELOW CUT !!! : praise kink, cunnilingus (oral f recieving basically), daddy kink, DIRTY TALK OH ABSOLUTELY, some downright filthy smitty smut, luci being gentle but getting a bit pussydrunk, overstim!!!!, whiny luci if u squint im a sucker for a whiny man

A/N : this is my first attempt at writing smut so pls be gentle about it :,) im just writing out my thoughts in a little oneshot cos duh

he is so 🥹🥹🥹 oh to have him look at me that way 🫶

for my amazing mootie @heart-of-the-morningstar <3

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

Lucifer Morningstar who has a literal oral fixation on you, walking in after helping Charlie at the hotel to you in your cute little nightgown, leaving so little to the imagination; how the black silk hugs each and every little curve of your body, cupping and defining each detail of your upper half, but most importantly:

your hips. or most specifially, the way the fabric fell in between your plump thighs, to where Lucifer had all but dreamed to have such a delectable dessert. What really had to tie in the deal was the way that your usually innocent smile was replaced with that of lustful intentions, a treat for him to devour and deduce to a babbling mess that he could have all to himself :<

Lucifer Morningstar who's prideful ego soaked in your helpless, high-pitched whines as he had coerced you onto the bed, whispering all of his thoughts into your ear as he took off the nightgown, "what I'd give to bury my face in between your legs for hours, feel them shake around my head," letting out an almost silent whine himself at the sheer thought of it, "I'd take such good care, so gentle with such a delicate little angel...."

He'd carry on describing each and every detail, confidently as he fondled wirh each body part until he paused at the area you'd been whimpering for him to touch, to eat as if it was his last meal on death row. He'd lay you down ever so gently, slowly moving down to admire the way your slick shimmered in the dim moonlight, before sliding a finger down your slit. The moan you let out was downright sinful as he made eye contact with you, licking his finger dry,

"Delicious, as always, pretty little angel. I want you tocome undone beneath me, what'd ya say? gonna let daddy take care of you?"

Lucifer Morningstar who had became addicted to the taste of your juices, lapping away with skill as his forked tongue darted inside you again. After so many releases, Lucifer just couldn't get enough of your heavenly songs of pleasure, and you couldn't get enough of how emotionally bound you felt as he did such filthy acts. His finger toyed with your clit, laughing slightly as your legs shook and walls clenched,

"Oh sweet girl, that feels good don't it? That's it.. felt that reaction there!! Pretty baby's come all undone on daddy's tongue, hasn't she? I've got ya, almost there angel, that's my good girl.." As you let out a helpless babble, followed by a vocal moan as your legs spasmed and wrapped around his head. When your legs relaxed snd gave way, you weren't given enough time to relish in the feeling of fluffy, airy pleasure when his fingers took the place of his tongue, pressing against that spot that made you see stars.

Lucifer Morningstar who ignored your pleas as his fingers continued to pull out sinful songs form your lungs, kissing lovebites onto your inner thigh "Luci.. 'ts- 'ts too much.. please.." You whimpered shakily, tears spilling as he looks up.

When your blurred eyes meet his, there's a glimmer visible; a caring and meek glimmer, but also a lustful one. One that you just had to make a mental note of. How could he look so gorgeous when bringing you to these lengths of emotions?

After a meer 15 seconds of eye contact, he firmly hit that sensitive spot, eyes squeezing shut. He slowly whines, voice coated in arousal as he admires his work,

"One more baby.. please, make Daddy proud, show me I've done a good job."

#lucifer morningstar smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifersducky #lucifer smut #hazbin hotel

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bby-deerling · 6 months

Text

distraction (law x reader nsfw)

law is a dork who has to plan out his rizz in advance. pre-timeskip law in mind. loose sequel to counting coins afab!reader nsfw, mdni, 18+, wc 2.8k

(read this fic by @grandlinedreams while writing this, it greatly influenced the direction i went with this!)

cw: edging, overstim, fingering, oral (fem receiving), piv sex, law likes it when you call him captain

Time often turns into an illusion when submerged in the dark depths of the sea, but the exhaustion in Law’s body tells him it’s well into the early hours of the morning. A textbook on diagnostics lay open in his lap, pages left unturned for quite a while as his eyes repeatedly glazed over the words and diagrams, unable to digest any of the information. Just as he thinks he might be able to regain the slightest bit of focus, he twitches as he feels your thigh move against his again. It was his own fault—he was the one sitting with his legs spread apart and refusing to budge—nevertheless, he was vexed at how much the slightest touch from you affected him.

You were nowhere near focused either. Despite having a variety of medicines in progress to write updates on in your lab notebook, your hand hadn’t written a thing in ages, your pen either bouncing on the spine of the notebook or tapping against your bottom lip, unknowingly torturing your captain. Eyes fixed against the wall as you leaned into the couch, mind adrift, he watched the subtle movements in your chest as you breathed. Your boiler suit was unzipped and hanging around your waist, and the flimsy yellow crop top you had on left little to Law’s imagination. No bra, as usual, he noted, trying and failing to tear his eyes away from you.

He had mentally rehearsed his plan an endless amount of times at this point.

In the months since your first meeting at a coin shop, you spent a lot of time working in close proximity with Law, just as he had promised. Despite a steep initial learning curve, you had proven yourself indispensable to the crew with your inventive synthetic techniques; the medicine cabinets had never been more well stocked. A self-taught doctor and his makeshift pharmacist—what a match.

Without realizing, he began to rely on your company, whether it was keeping him company in his office during nights like this one, or accompanying him on island trips to execute your now perfect tag team operation to get deals on coins he needed for his collection. The two of you had crafted an airtight plan together that had yet to fail; once he identified a coin he liked, he would silently give you a signal and switch a coin in your hands with his devil fruit ability so you could go haggle with the shop owner, working them down by displaying your expert knowledge of coin grading, always backing your statements up with references to prevent getting backed into a corner. Shachi and Penguin had once asked him why he didn’t just save the money and steal the coins with his devil fruit to begin with.

“Where’s the fun in that?” he had said with a smirk.

The real reason was that seeing you use your brilliant mind gave him an intoxicating tingle at the base of his spine.

He showed his appreciation for you and your intelligence in the small, seemingly innocuous touches he would give you from time to time—a squeeze on the shoulder, a pat on the head, often accompanied by verbal praise on your work. His words often made your cheeks flush bright red, smiling bashfully and sputtering out a “thanks, Captain!”, but he couldn’t help but want to push it further. Always quiet, humble and so, so sweet, you weren't the type to push boundaries, leaving Law to be the one to nudge the envelope. Slowly and methodically, he increased the frequency of his touches over time to the point where you began to reciprocate back. More importantly, you were now comfortable enough with him to sit close enough to be rubbing thighs with him on the couch in his office.

He was tired of walking through the plan in his head. It was time to pull the trigger.

You turn your head towards him as he says your name, startled out of your daydream.

“What’s up Captain?” you ask with a sleepy smile. His eyes meet yours, intense as ever; the feeling had once been intimidating to you, but you had slowly become accustomed to Law’s steely gaze ripping you apart.

“You’re distracting me.” he says as you try to read his face to no avail.

“I’ll head to bed then,” you say with a yawn, “g’nite Law!” his heart stutters when he hears his name on your lips; he had given you permission to use it in private, but you rarely took the opportunity to use that privilege.

He knew you would take his words as a dismissal—on any other night they would be—and he delights in the surprise on your face when he grabs your wrist and prevents you from leaving the couch. He stands, tattooed hand still pinning your wrist to the couch, and leans over you, tossing his bucket hat onto the floor. You’re already putty in his hands as he grabs your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I think I’m distracting you too, aren’t I?” he asks, allowing the smallest hint of a smirk to grace his face as he knows he’s finally got you right where he wants you. “You’ve been spaced out for hours. Haven’t gotten one bit of work done.”

“Guess I worked past the point of fatigue, Captain.” you reply, corners of your mouth quirked upward.

Law’s thumb runs across your chin, then grazes your lower lip; he delights in the subtle reaction he gets from you.

“You wanna know what I think?” he whispers, leaning in closer to your face.

“Hmm?” you hum, feeling electricity swirl in your veins as he traces a finger up the bare skin of your side.

“I think you deserve a reprimand for drooling over your Captain all night instead of finishing your notes.” he growls, finally bringing your lips to meet his. You kiss him back immediately, and he delights in the gasp you make when he slips his tongue in your mouth. Law presses your wrist further into the couch as it twitches in his grasp; he could feel how desperately you wanted to touch him back, but he was insistent on keeping things on his terms.

He had spent too much time and energy planning this out to lose control and not take his time with you.

With a flick of his wrist, you’re sitting on the edge of his bed and his hand is slowly crawling up your stomach under your sad excuse for a shirt. Taking a nipple between two of his fingers, he groans as your hips squirm against his.

“You wear this on purpose?” he asks, hand dropping to play with the hemline of your shirt. “You wearing this to tease your Captain? To drive me nuts while I’m trying to work?”

You shake your head. “I didn’t realize I affected you that much, Captain…” you reply, cursing yourself for not being able to banter with him like you usually would when he’s not affecting you this much.

Little did you know, Law was counting on taking advantage of your sheepishness.

He grinds his hips against yours slowly, arm hooked around your waist to make sure you felt every bit of his arousal rub against your damp core.

“Well,” he murmurs in your ear, “hope you can feel it now.” You let out a shaky breath and slam your lips against his, desperate to feel his tongue against yours again. He indulges you briefly, before pulling away again, eyes gleaming with mischief that made your face tingle in anticipation.

“Patience.” he scolds, running his slender, tattooed fingers across your jawbone. “I’m supposed to be teaching you a lesson, after all.”

Noticing you squirming your hips to get more friction against him, he steps back, still holding onto your face. Amused at your frustration at his teasing, he gives you a lopsided smile. He was a firm believer to sticking to his plans, and he still had to completely ruin you with his mouth and hands before even thinking of fucking you.

When you find yourself pushed back on the bed and Law slowly crawls on top of you, both of you now shirtless, you smirk, thinking he’s caved and was going to give you what you desperately needed; however, unbeknownst to you, you’d only backed right into his next little trap. Caged beneath him, you were now completely at Law’s mercy, and he meant to draw this out as long as possible.

“You’re always staring at my hands. Any reason why?” he asks you, fingers slowly roaming across your upper body; his touch is light and careful, not too far gone yet to lose his surgical precision.

Your face flushes, realizing he had caught on to the way you shamelessly stare at his strong, beautiful, inked fingers when you think he’s not looking. Even the most mundane acts—writing, inspecting coins, sewing up patients, using his devil fruit abilities—were enough to drive you wild, wanting to feel his touch all over you.

You feel silly at overestimating your ability to hide things from your Captain—after all, Law never misses a thing.

“I think you know why, Law.” you say, voice laced with lust and just the slightest hint of frustration at his teasing. “I want those pretty fingers everywhere.”

“Is that so?” he muses. “Tell you what—" the pressure behind his touches increases, causing your breath to hitch. “—I’m going touch you everywhere, and you’re going to tell me where you want it most.”

It starts with a hand cupping the side of your face; you nuzzle into his touch, giving him a smile that melts his cold heart so much that he almost thinks about cracking and giving you what you want. His touches don’t stay innocent for long, tracing his fingers against your lips again, before experimentally sliding two into your mouth, groaning as you eagerly suck on them, running your tongue along the digits. A third finger slips in your mouth, causing you to let out a moan that slowly turned into a muffled giggle. Law gives you a puzzled expression until you point at the three fingers he was using.

E, A, T

“Keep fooling around and it’s going to be another hour before I eat you.” he says with a scowl, though there’s no real bite to it. His fingers slowly pull out of your mouth, and he wipes your own saliva on the top of your breast. A shiver runs through your body at the sensation of the cool air in his cabin running across your own spit; this pleases Law as he starts to rub small, gentle circles into your nipple with his thumb.

“Right there…” you whisper, “Feels so good, Law, don’t stop...”

“Really? That’s where you want it most?” he teases. “I suppose I can just quit now then…”

“Law, please… keep going, please…” you huff. Never in all your months with your Captain had you seen him so incredibly smug.

Despite his threat, D continues to trace circles on your nipple as his other hand dances all over the bottom half of your torso; he’s intent on continuing his teasing, but still desperate to explore your body after months of craving.

The moans you let out once he finally reaches your inner thighs are music to the surgeon’s ears. “Is it here? This where you want it?” he asks, running A and T upward towards your entrance, and then back down again. “It seems like it…” he muses, “Unless there’s somewhere else you want me.”

“Please Law, rub my clit…” you whine. Being the target of Law’s slow, methodical affections was thrilling, but your bud was throbbing with need and you desperately needed release.

He chuckles as he pinches your nipple and complies with your request. “All you had to do was ask.” he says, you know, like a liar. His cock twitches in his pants, almost painful by this point, but he was still determined to mess with you just a little bit longer.

So, when he sees you’re nearly about to come, he pulls his hand away. You groan and ball your hand into a fist, nearly punching the bed in frustration. “Law…” you whine, head spinning and hips shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he says teasingly, hands exploring your thighs. “You went quiet, were you trying to focus on getting off?” you nod and give him a strangled mhm in response.

“Maybe you’ll remember how this feels next time you decide to distract your Captain when he’s trying to work.” he whispers lowly, slipping two fingers inside of you effortlessly.

“So wet…” he sighs, admiring the way your body tenses as he curls his fingers upward. “It’s here isn’t it? Where you want my fingers the most?” he asks.

“Mhm!” you moan, unable to string together a coherent sentence as you soaked his tattoos with your arousal.

“Knew it.” he says with a smirk. “Gonna come for your Captain?”

“Law—” you whine his name, only to let out a strangled moan of frustration as he pulls his fingers out of you and puts them in your mouth, shutting you up while you lick them clean.

“Was that insubordination?” he muses, “And here I was about to let you come.”

“Please, Captain…” you beg when his fingers leave your mouth, frustrated at him for denying you but still compliant with his little game. “I need you to make me come so bad Captain—”

“How’d it taste?” he asks, purposely ignoring your pleas.

“Tasted good, Captain…” you reply, praying he planned on using his tongue on you next.

He glances down at his watch. “Hasn’t quite been an hour since your last nonsense, but I’m getting hungry. Count yourself lucky.” he says, kissing your thighs before latching onto your clit. You nearly see stars when he laps at your extremely sensitive bud, and feel the warmth grow in your stomach as his fingers find themselves back inside of you; it was all almost too much. Drowning in pleasure, your head buzzed but he was purposely not letting the wire snap. You snap your hips erratically against his mouth, desperately chasing your orgasm and praying he wouldn’t stop again.

He doesn’t.

Pure ecstasy overtakes your entire body as you come, intensified by the vibrations of his satisfied chuckle against your clit. Your orgasm is long, lewd, and messy, and intoxicating to Law as he eagerly laps up your wetness. It was perfect, you were perfect, splayed out, twitching, and gasping just for him.

“You did so well for me…” he soothes, leaving tender kisses on your thighs as you catch your breath.

Once you regain your senses, you experimentally run your fingers through his hair, body still too much in shock to sit up properly. “Felt so good Law… ” you whisper, voice raspy.

When you tell him you need a moment to recover, he nods and crawls up beside you to hold you close, pressing comforting kisses to the back of your head.

“Hope it wasn’t too much…” he says, suddenly worried that he had gone overboard with his teasing.

“You’re perfect, Law,” you assure him as you turn around in his arms and give him a chaste kiss on the lips, “just no more teasing tonight.”

“Promise.” he says, hands running down your side towards your hips. “Can’t say anything about tomorrow though—"

His breath hitches as you run your fingers along the waistband of his boxers, dipping them under and tracing the skin underneath. He grabs your wrist and guides your hand to his aching cock.

“No more teasing tonight.” he insists as he slides his boxers off, your hand lazily stroking him.

“Haven’t I earned the right?” you ask with a playful smile as he lines up his cock with your entrance. Despite how pretty it was, he was determined to wipe that look clean off your face and devour you.

“Shut up and take it.” he groans as he bottoms out inside of you all at once, tired of the back and forth. He gives you no time to adjust, but his first few strokes are slow. However, he quickly picks up the pace, drunk on the feeling of finally being inside you.

You cry out from overstimulation as his cock hits your sweet spot over and over again, feeling the seeds of another orgasm blooming.

“Take it for your Captain. Come for me again.” he orders, gritting his teeth as he resists the urge to cum before you do. When your walls clench around him, he can’t hold back anymore and spills deep inside of you.

“Law…” you say as he lays on top of you and nuzzles his face into your hair.

“Mhmm…” he responds, starting to feel the tempting pull of sleep wash over him.

“You always gonna be that mean to me in bed?”

“Only when you distract me.”

#one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #one piece scenario #one piece smut #x reader #mdni #law x you #trafalgar law x you #cmon f*ck me emo boy!#this might be a lil ooc idk

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yuellii · 9 months

Text

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

#childe x reader #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #raiden ei x reader #al haitham x reader #ei x reader #tartaglia x reader #ayato kamisato imagines #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #genshin imagines

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saetoru · 10 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。underneath the stars (looking for a sign)

synopsis. al-haitham thinks waking up beside you feels like a dream—well, until it doesn’t

— word count. 4.1k (how did a drabble get here sobs)

— contents. pining al-haitham, honestly it’s mutual pining lol, gn! reader, implied one night stands, consumption of alcohol (both reader and al-haitham) reader is a matra, al-haitham is acting grand sage, it’s basically the “avoid my crush after i accidentally sleep with him until he corners me” trope lol, confessions, brief angst and then a happily ever after, sfw + fluff, not proof read—this was entirely written on tumblr drafts through mobile app. yeah. we raw dogged this bad boy lmao

— notes. if you knew. how many wips i have with him. you would be astounded :,) he’s all that matters anymore

al-haitham wakes up to a bed much softer than his, red flag number one. there’s also a weight on his chest, red flag number two. red flag number three, however, doesn’t make itself apparent until he opens his eyes and sees you.

oh. not good. you’re covered in the sheets, but you’re clearly…topless, and a quick glance at his own torso tells him he’s also not clothed. oh. double not good.

but there’s also a small voice in his head that’s cheering and patting himself on the shoulder—he’s managed to fall into the bed of the very person he’s been quietly pining over for months, what more can a guy possibly ask for?

but unfortunately, his mini celebration in his inner thoughts is disrupted when you open your eyes at the disturbance from his movement—and before he can get even one word in, you shriek. rather loudly, too—it makes him wince at the sound (he’s always had sensitive ears.)

“what are you doing here?” you gasp, “and why haven’t you got a shirt—wait. why haven’t i got a shirt on?”

“well, it seems—”

“you slept with me?” you gasp again, cutting him off as your face twists in disbelief, “while i was drunk?”

“i was drunk too,” he points out, frowning at the accusations. al-haitham is a respectable man, and more importantly, he cares about you too much to take advantage of your inebriated state like that. “it was a two way street.”

that seems to calm you for…approximately two seconds before your face twists in horror again.

“al-haitham,” you wail his name in despair, slumping onto your mattress in defeat, “this is the worst thing we could have done. do you realize that?”

oh. you regret this—the voice in his head suddenly stops cheering. it deflates, in fact.

worst thing. is this really the worst thing? al-haitham thinks you both have always gotten along rather well, and he’s always taken your slightly stuttered words and nervous chuckles as a testament to holding the same attraction he holds for you. but maybe he was too quick to assume you feel the same, and your words now feel like a boulder on his chest. they’re heavy. soul crushingly heavy, in fact—but he keeps the blank expression on his face ever so easily.

“yes, it seems a bit inappropriate for coworkers to have an entanglement,” he agrees after a moment, making you whine at his word choice.

“you don’t have to call it that,” you huff.

then, out of sheer curiosity (and absolutely nothing else), you take a quick peek from the corner of your eyes at his chest. in your defense, his shirt leaves practically little left to the imagination, and when else will you get the opportunity to see his (very impressive) chest? a peek won’t hurt.

you’re thoroughly impressed when your eyes catch his sculpted pecs. his eyes are thoroughly unimpressed when they catch your gaze.

“well, what would you like to do about our predicament?” he asks flatly.

acting uninterested is the hardest part, he realizes. here, you’re within reach for his arm to curl around you, and yet somehow, there still feels like there are miles of space between you in the sheets. it’s a bitter reality, he thinks, one that stings a bit more than he’s ever really imagined.

al-haitham has witnessed lots of rejections in his time. whether it’s at the akademiya where he is the unfortunate witness of a rejected confession, or in novels he reads of unrequited feelings. he however never thought he’d land himself in the same situation—even if he hasn’t technically confessed to you yet. but your reaction definitely feels like one, and he’s smart enough to deduce that if he did confess, you wouldn’t take too kindly to the idea.

sure, it’s a bit unprofessional for the acting grand sage to have a relationship with one of the akademiya’s top matra that he works with rather frequently, but al-haitham is only the temporary grand sage. technically, after this, he will be going back to being the scribe who makes himself scarce on a regular basis. and it’s not very unprofessional for the scribe and a matra to be romantically involved, he’d like to argue. most people meet their significant others through the akademiya in the first place—why should he be any different?

but one glance at your face tells him you’re rather unhappy with this situation. he thinks he can hear a crack where the boulder resides on his chest.

“i think you should leave,” you mumble, chewing nervously on your lip, “and don’t say anything about this to anyone. especially not cyno.”

“noted,” he says blandly. you turn away, letting him have the privacy to rise out of bed and dress—which he does as slowly as possible, just to drag out the feeling of being in your bedroom for just a while longer—before he says clears his throat. “i’ll be seeing you,” he says.

“sure,” you nod awkwardly, “see you at uh…see you at work.”

with that, he walks out of your bedroom, and sees himself out. as soon as you hear the front door shut, you turn and scream into your pillow—the same pillow that happened to be under al-haitham’s head for the entire night, the same pillow that smells like his shampoo.

you think for a moment how you can never wash this pillow case again—and then, when you realize just what you’ve thought, you scream again.

you might just be entirely screwed.

—————

“and where have you been?” kaveh is waiting in the kitchen as soon as al-haitham enters.

great.

kaveh has a talent for making himself available to chatter away into al-haitham’s ear on the most stressful of days. whether it’s to greet him with complaints about having no help with cleaning after a long day of work, or to bang on his office door and demand an explanation for rejected funds as he does paperwork, or to ask where he’s been after he’s been wounded rather harshly by the one person he’s ever felt romantically inclined for, kaveh is always there at the worst possible timing.

leave it to kaveh to sour his mood more.

“i don’t see how it’s any of your business,” al-haitham mutters, grabbing the glass of water on the table and chugging it to help with the slight hangover he nurses—it’s evidently not his best morning in more ways than one.

“hey, that’s my glass,” kaveh scolds, “get your own.”

“it’s actually my glass. from my grandmothers set,” al-haitham corrects his roommate, “and i pay the water bills. so it’s my water too.”

“you—” kaveh shakes with frustration. it would pull a bit of an amused grin on al-hairham’s face if he wasn’t in the worst mood possible. “nevermind,” kaveh huffs, crossing his arms, “where were you—wait, is that a hickey?”

“no,” al-haitham says instantly, pulling his cloak higher to cover his neck—but kaveh beats him to it, reaching over and inspecting his skin. he seems to light up as soon as he realizes it is, in fact, a hickey on al-haitham’s neck.

“it is a hickey,” he grins gleefully, gasping in sheer disbelief that al-haitham seems to have some sort of life outside of work and home, “this can’t be. did you pay someone to get into bed with you—”

“just because some of us can afford such services doesn’t mean we indulge in them,” al-haitham grumbles, which earns an offended gasp from the blonde, “and i’m not obligated to tell you where, or with who for that matter, i was—”

“was it that matra you’re always standing around with?” kaveh grins knowingly, cutting him off.

the mere mention of you must make his face fall—which is new, because al-haitham has always been good at hiding his emotions on his face. but kaveh seems to have realized he’s overstepped, because his smile fades just as quickly as it comes.

“it doesn’t matter,” al-haitham mutters, “it was a mistake.”

“a mistake? but you’ve been pathetically pining for months, anyone with eyes can see—”

“i’ll be going to work now,” al-haitham cuts kaveh off, “make sure you pay this months rent on time.”

with that, he turns, making his way to his room to shower and then be off to the akademiya—where he equal parts hopes he doesn’t see you, and equal parts hopes he runs into you just to catch a glimpse of you again.

—————

you haven’t seen al-haitham is six days—correction: you’ve avoided al-haitham for six days. admittedly, it’s becoming increasingly difficult seeing as he is the acting grand sage, and you do need him to approve of your reports from recent investigations—but then you remember how six days ago, in the darkly lit corner of the street on your way home, you both kissed.

(and yes, it was a drunken mistake—neither you nor al-haitham value public displays of inappropriate affection between coworkers, but that doesn’t erase what happened.)

perhaps it would be easy to laugh it off as an impulsive action the both of you took while being under the influence, but then you both stumbled into your house. and then your bed. and then a kiss turned into more…and then next thing you knew, you’ve been awakened to a very unclothed (but still very handsome) al-haitham next to you in the mattress.

you should be mature and face him—people can sleep with people and not let it mean anything, proper adults would simply brush over this and never look back. but al-haitham is a bit of a difficult scenario.

he’s handsome—painfully so, with those sculpted muscles and those soft strands of hair that fall perfectly over his face. but more than he is easy on the eyes, he’s a charming individual. at least to you—you think the majority of the akademiya would have to disagree.

but al-haitham is kind, he greets you properly, holds doors open for you, and he often notices when you’re tired just by looking at you before giving you extensions on reports. he’s caring, you can tell because he’s helped people more than once, and while he claims it’s for the sake of his own convenience so he can avoid extra trouble, you know that he doesn’t have the heart to turn away from those that need him. more importantly, al-haitham is disciplined—it’s something all matra such as yourself can appreciate.

he seeks out knowledge in the most moral of methods, he never crosses limits or abuses power even when he holds the ability to, and he never takes advantage of the authority he may hold over others.

he’s wonderful, you can’t help but think—and admittedly, his hands also have very attractive veins that make you sweat a little. but that’s not the important part, of course. the important part is how perfect his character is, if you take the moment to understand it. and you like to think you understand it—much more than most at the akademiya.

except romancing the akademiya’s grand sage isn’t the best look for a matra—especially if you want to climb up the ranks soon. you don’t want rumors spread to undermine your hard work…or worse, be accused by the general mahamatra of taking your position as the grand sage’s lover to your advantage for work gains.

cyno is a strict individual—you’d hate to get on his bad side. and just as you think about how awful it would be if he got the wrong impression, he walks right up to you.

with that serious look on his face—why does he always have that serious look on his face?

“grand sage al-haitham requests you in his office,” he says. you don’t detect any suspicion in his voice, and it seems like a perfectly normal statement, but that’s the thing about cyno. he’s too good at not letting his movements be read, too good at cornering caged animals before dragging them by the ankles out in the open, exposed and vulnerable.

you gulp. “did he say why?” you ask, “i’m a bit busy.”

“no,” cyno shakes his head—and then he looks at you oddly, “you don’t seem busy.”

“well….this report won’t write itself,” you chuckle nervously, which only makes his brows furrow in confusion.

“wasn’t that due two days ago?”

fuck.

“yes….but al-haitham gave me an extension.”

“he seems to give you a lot of those,” cyno points out, unimpressed.

well, that’s great, you think. surely, there is no other matra as good at losing composure and making things more obvious for themselves than you.

“i haven’t been feeling well,” you say quickly—which isn’t the worst excuse, seeing as you’ve hardly shown your face at the akademiya for the last few days.

cyno seems to buy it too, because he nods in understanding before giving you a concerned look. “you shouldn’t push yourself, you know,” he lectures, “being sick snot fun.” you blink, and he looks thoroughly amused with himself. “get it? because when you’re sick, you might have a runny nose? snot? and—”

“right,” you nod, “i’ll be seeing the grand sage now. i wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

at least you know cyno has not made any….inappropriate assumptions if he’s making jokes, as painful as they might be. you’re not sure if you’d rather face al-haitham or continue to listen to the general mahamatra’s interesting sense of humor, but the closer you get to the grand sage’s office, the more you want to turn back and find cyno again.

but you’re an adult, and adults do adult things sometimes, and sometimes they’re not the most ideal, but the only way to handle such situations is the adult way—to be mature and not let things get in the way of being professional. easy enough.

at least, you hope.

—————

“you called for me, grand sage?”

ouch. al-haitham has now been reduced to grand sage, not just al-haitham. he looks at you for a moment, and he tries—really, he does—to seem unbothered, but his brows crinkle before he can stop them.

“i did, yes,” he says, looking at you.

you look lovely—which, you always do, even when you’re nervous. he can tell you are because you have that habit of chewing on your lip when you’re nervous, and he hates that he makes you anxious enough to do that right now.

al-haitham has always hated the gap between him and everyone else—not because he enjoys being close to others, but because it’s burdensome to always seem like a pretentious asshole. being interpreted as one over the years has left him quite numb to what other people think….but that’s not the case with you, unfortunately. he wonders if you’ve ever thought he was an asshole, or if you’ve ever felt that he acts like he’s better than you are. he hopes you’ve never talked to him and thought he’s condescending like kaveh insists he is—he hopes you find value in his honesty and find him insightful.

he thinks you might have at one point, if the way carrying conversation with you is so easy is of any proof. it feels natural, talking to you. your voice is smooth, especially when it reads over mission reports to him in his office. your laugh is even smoother, though—it’s soft, and honeyed, it sounds like something he’s been missing his whole life.

everything about you feels like something he’s been missing his whole life, like he was born to be with you by his side, and he’s been empty without you all along.

you clear your throat, handing him papers as you pull him from his thoughts and say, “here is the report for that last investigation,” you say quietly, “i apologize for the untimeliness. it won’t happen again—”

“that’s not why i called you,” he cuts you off.

al-haitham is a straightforward man. he’s watched many confessions, and he’s read about many confessions, and he’s even thought about how his own confessions might go should he ever find someone he finds interest in.

but this isn’t interest. al-haitham is not interested in you—he needs you. to call this a confession might be incorrect, he thinks for a moment, because this almost feels like he’s about to plead for you to give him a chance.

“oh,” your voice is small.

you think you have an inkling of an idea of what he’ll bring up, and you contemplate running out of his office and begging cyno to tell you a few more of his jokes….or a few dozen….maybe a few hundred to be safe.

“we should talk about that night—”

“well, there’s not much to talk about,” you say simply, “you and i are consenting adults, and we happened to be heavily under the influence, which caused a lapse in judgement. it’s a bit unprofessional, sure, but as long as neither of us say anything, and as long as we manage to keep a professional atmosphere between the two of us, there shouldn’t be any—”

he cuts off your (rehearsed in the bathroom mirror many times) speech as he clears his throat. “i….” the words are caught in his throat.

for a lifetime of straightforward honesty and blunt words, it seems like now of all times he can’t seem to speak.

“you…?” you motion for him to continue.

“i enjoyed it.”

you sputter. his eyes widen as he stumbles over his words when he realizes what he’s really said.

“grand sage,” you gasp, “i think that’s hardly appropriate for—”

“n-no, i meant i enjoyed you,” he says quickly, making you furrow your brows.

“and what does that mean? because—”

“i enjoyed being with you,” he croaks. it’s a good thing kaveh isn’t here to witness this, because as a self proclaimed expert at love (which al-haitham would have to disagree), kaveh would have an absolute ball watching this. “i don’t….i would prefer if we didn’t pretend nothing happened,” he mumbles, “if you feel the same, that is.”

everything about al-haitham is hopeful. from the way his eyes watch your every movement as they stare at you, to the way he clutches the pen in his hand tightly in anticipation of your response, he’s hopeful. you can tell.

you can tell he’s hopeful you’ll say yes, that he’s hopeful you’ll say you feel the same way as him, that he’s hopeful he’ll see you again in a setting that’s not just for work and mission reports and investigation details.

he’s hopeful you’ll say yes to his pleading eyes and fill that empty spot beside him that’s been empty for far too long.

and it feels like swallowing lead when you sigh heavily and watch the hope crumble.

“al-haitham,” you mumble, “this wouldn’t be very wise, you know?”

“and why’s that?” the hurt in his face is almost tangible.

he’s not foreign to rejections, he’s witnessed them his whole life. he watched that haravatat scholar that declined the amurta one outside of class that one year. he read about that main character that found self respect and declined the toxic love interest in that novel he read last summer. he’s declined his own fair share of confessions by random scholars that stare a bit too long at his chest and arms for his liking.

but for some reason, he never imagined it to feel like this. like being with your for one second longer might just burn his skin, but being away from you might leave him cold and numb. al-haitham thinks that if you walked out that door, you might just take every bit of warmth he’s ever known from him—but sitting in front of you, in front of your sorrowed expression and sympathetic eyes….it might be too much heat for him to handle.

“well, you’re the grand sage, and i’m a matra—”

“acting grand sage,” he corrects, “it’s temporary. i’ll be back to being the akademiya’s scribe in a short bit.”

“but people talk,” you insist, “and i’ve worked hard to be a respectable matra, and i wouldn’t want anyone to think i’ve slept my way to the top. plus, the general mahamatra is technically my boss, and he’s very strict—”

“the general mahamatra and i drink at taverns together quite often,” he says pointedly, “he’s well aware of how i feel.”

“you told cyno?” you gasp, shooting him a sharp look, “i asked you specifically not to—”

“he’s known of my feelings before that night,” he assures, “evidently i’m not very subtle.”

“well,” you hum, biting back a smile, “no, you aren’t.”

he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion. “you’ve known?”

“al-haitham,” you chuckle, eyeing him fondly. something about the way your smile is so bright makes him clutch his pen tighter. “you aren’t the most social, you know. but you always have something to say to me.”

“that doesn’t always mean anything,” he mumbles, blush rising to the tips of his ears.

he’s endearing this way, you decide—when he’s flustered and almost pouting and flushed a bright shade of pink. you think for a second that maybe, if you kiss him for a bit in the comforts of his office, no one will ever have to know.

“but it does, doesn’t it?” you tease.

“and if you’ve indulged it all this time, am i safe to assume it means something to you too?” he asks, raising a brow.

you should say no. sleeping with the grand sage and kissing him in his office and maybe even going on dates and possibly holding hands is hardly a good look—but the scribe….well, maybe the scribe is a different story.

“ask me again when you’re the akademiya’s scribe,” you say, biting back a smile, “perhaps my answer will be different then.”

“i see,” he nods, biting back a smile of his own, “i suppose the grand sage isn’t everyone’s type, huh?”

“no,” you chuckle, “i suppose not. but the scribe….well, he’s rather charming.” you walk up to him, lean down and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth as you mumble, “i don’t mind waiting for the scribe.”

“well, lucky for you, you won’t have to wait too long,” he hums.

he watches you leave his office—and then he decides that when he clocks out at five pm sharp later, he’ll go straight home, tell kaveh that he is, in fact capable in the field of romance, and demand this month’s rent.

—————

“haitham, we’re out of eggs,” you pout, poking your head out of the fridge, “will you bring some on the way home today?”

“we would have eggs if kaveh didn’t use all of mine,” al-haitham grumbles, glaring at the blonde who gasps in offense.

“and you help yourself to my beer, don’t you? i deserve a few eggs,” kaveh huffs.

“well, make sure you pay this month’s rent on time. we’re going to buy some more furniture for our room.”

this time, kaveh turns to you in disbelief—you find it amusing how he seems to still find it improbable that anyone would like to spend longer than five minutes with al-haitham, let alone share a bedroom.

“are you really sure you want to do this? what could you possibly see in him? he’s the most aggravating individual i’ve ever had the pleasure of talking to,” kaveh eyes you in concern as you walk over and press a soft kiss to al-haitham’s forehead, earning himself an unimpressed glare from the scribe and making you giggle.

“he is a bit aggravating,” you agree with a teasing glint, pinching al-haitham’s cheek as he scoffs, “but i think he’s just nice to me because i sleep with him.”

“that’s gross,” kaveh wrinkles his nose, “you had better not be doing anything i can hear from my room—that would be traumatic. although, it must be more traumatic for you,” he says with sympathy.

“if you don’t like it, you can simply move out,” al-haitham, shrugs, wrapping an arm around your waist. as much as you love your boyfriend—and you love him quite a bit, you can’t help but mourn the fact that constant bickering will now become a staple in your daily routine.

“are you threatening me?” kaveh gasps before he turns to you with his finger pointing to al-haitham, “do you see? this is your future, i hope you know that. he’s much more unpleasant to live with, i’m warning you in advance—don’t say i didn’t try.”

“well, i’m sure he’ll be on his best behavior for me,” you grin, eyeing al-haitham playfully as your fingers weave into his hair, “otherwise, i’ll have to come sleep in your room when i’m mad at him.”

you think, for the first time ever, kaveh and al-haitham seem to agree on something as they both share a look of dread at your words.

pov: you write 3.8k words of build up for a plot just so you can write the last scene 😭

no bc literally i meant to write this as a drabble just so i could write that last scene bc i thought of it and giggled but then the plot just kept going and now we’re at 4.1k words like w h a t

#teepods.writings #fics.#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham x you #alhaitham angst #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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synnlyrose · 3 months

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Cookies.

A:N// Toji is a pervert. Y/n is 19. MDNI!! (I don't know how to do proper trigger warnings.) If you'd like to teach me, my inbox is open. T H I S I S ✨SMUT✨ R.A.O.R 😁

~edited to the best of my humbled ability. It's 4 am, bare with me~

MOST IMPORTANTLY: E N J O Y 🤭

That smirk, that fucking smirk that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head as Toji continues to scissor your pussy open. Trying to pull an orgasm from you. Liquid has started to leak down his fingers and forearm as you desperately rode his fingers.

"Fuck...Mr. Fushiguro...m-more..more ." You whine, grinding yourself down as hard as you can, manuvering so desperately on his fingers. There is a deep chuckle that rumbles in Toji's throat as he watches in a complete lustful awe, as you this barely legal teen fucks yourself on his fingers, like you had never been touched before. But Toji knows this couldn't have been true by how you we're rocking yourself back against his large digits.

(It's what you get for showing up at his door in your girl scouts uniform, being a senior of course, just trying to sell cookies.)

Toji being the pervert he was couldn't pass up the opportunity to have such a young pussy- 19 years old and newly graduated.

"You like this don't you?" Toji asks his voice gruff as he felt his cock stiffen up even more, watching you get off on his fingers.

"Y-yes- fuck..gonna cum..." you moan, lying your head on his shoulder, placing small wet kisses on his neck. Your pussy squelching and sloppy with an orgasm fast approaching.

"Go on pretty girl...cum for me..." Toji almost growls, lifting your skirt up over your ass to watch it bounce as you continue to ride his fingers. He gives your soft squishy ass a hard smack causing a little yelp to escape your throat, but that smack had you cumming around his fingers.

"Ooo-f-fuck..." You cry out helplessly, throwing all your body weight onto Toji, as you come- hard.

Toji enjoys the feeling of your walls squeezing around his thick fingers. He could only imagine how tight they would feel, sucking his cock into you. Your body convulsing into a shaking mess for a few seconds. Your hair falling over out of the bun it was in, Toji still flexing his fingers in you for moment, before slowly pulling them out.

His fingers are completely covered in your slick and he snickers bringing them up to his lips to suck them clean. You were still lying against his chest, breathing hard, trying to catch your breath and regain your sense of self.

Toji rubs your back slightly, kissing your forehead. He enjoys watching you shiver and catch your breath- his cock was still stiff. The scent of your pussy and perfume invades his sense of smell, making him even more excited to have you.

"You're such a good girl, Y/n...you really wanna sell those cookies?" Toji asks, his hand sliding down towards your ass once more, lightly gripping your skirt that had ridden up again.

(Cookies...oh fuck the cookies the whole reason you were here in the first place.)

"Yes, Mr. Fushiguro...." You breath out, still hazy from the orgasm he gave you moments ago.

"Good" Toji chuckles, shifting a little to pull his sweatpants down. Your gaze shifts down towards his cock standing tall and proud and gulped.

He was huge.

Toji took note at how wide your eyes are and chuckled to himself; "Don't worry sweetheart, it'll fit." Toji rasps out, he was breathing heavily now- he was was getting more and more amped up. "It always does... " He wants to feel your sweet, young, tight little pussy around his shaft.

You nod your head absentmindedly and immediately position yourself to sink down into his cock. This took Toji by surprise, as he was going to lay you down, but the idea of you riding him was all the more alluring. He smirks up at you, he knew you were a little slut.

Deep down inside the idea of having him inside you excited you.

"Think you can take all this cock, pretty girl?" Toji questions, looking up at you.

You nod with a shy smile. "I-I want too..." You say, your face reddening a bit, your pussy was soaking and aching to be filled once more, Toji's thick length was the perfect plug. You feel a slight bit of embarrassment at how horny you were for Toji. But the more you stared at his cock...the more you were enticed into having it.

Toji laughs a little as he crosses his arms beneath his head, watching you. "Of course you do." He reachs up and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. This makes you blush and nod, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, teasing your clit with the head as you position it at your entrance. His laid back and relaxed demeanor was perplexing to you. You would of thought this was an everyday occurrence for him. And it quite possibly was.

"No condom?" Toji asks, lifting his eye brows as if he was surprised but the grin that pulls at his lips was the give away that he was just teasing you.

"No sir. Is-is that okay?" You ask nervously, ceasing your movements, looking down at Toji through your lashes. You wanted to feel your juices slicking up his cock not some rubber. Besides, you were on birth control so pregnancy was out of the equation anyway.

Toji lays there, on his couch, his hands still behind his head, he was calm, too casual about it and all he does was shrug. He doesn't object or confirm he just shrugs, which makes you a bit uneasy, but before you could say anything, Toji's hips thrust upward causing the head of his cock to dip into your walls.

"Oh-oh-" you grunt out not expecting such an intrusion just yet but it is welcomed none the less. Your brain went numb as you fully slide down his shaft, taking all of him in at once.

You are stuffed to the brim completely full. Youu can feel your walls being stretched out more than ever before and the sweet burning sensation that flows through you makes you shutter.

"G-gosh...Mr.. Fushiguro...it's..you're so...b-big.."

Toji is in awe watching you react to taking his cock for the first time, he smirks watching you essentially freeze up then start shaking. "Too big, sweetheart?" He asks tilting his head to the side as if he was genuinely curious.

"No-No..." You try to stutter out, but you can feel him in your lower abdomen, it was such a new feeling. And it felt so fucking good, you didn't know that such a big cock could fit into you like this. Perhaps he is just a tad bit..too big for you, but it doesn't stop you. You are to dazed with horniness to even begin to think about caring. You're going to conquer this monster of cock Toji has been hiding.

"Well, come here..." Toji coaxes while grabbing you gently by the back, and pulling you down, so your chest was pressed to his, "Let me take care of you then..." He groans, the shifting of your body on his causes you to squeeze around him "Let me do all the work, pretty girl. You just relax and take my cock...like a good little girl..."

You aren't given proper time to object before Toji's hips start slowly moving up and down, pulling his length out and feeding it back into your needy walls, trying to get you to adjust to his size.

There is an undeniable knot that immediately forms in your stomach as he slowly fucks your cunt. Your cheek is pressed to his chest, you're staring at yourself in his dirty black TV screen. The sence is unholy, it is naughty and lewd. You are being fucked by your next door neighbor. It was so hot, especially with your little Scout's uniform on. You look so innocent and young, though you are of age. You watch his biceps flex as he wraps an arm around your lower back to keep you steady. You can smell the faint scent of coconut, presumably from his hair. The exposed skin from underneath his wife beater is clammy, and you instantly poke your tongue out to lick at his shoulder, the taste of his sweat is salty, yet addicting. You bite your lip for a moment, moaning softly into his shoulder.

Toji on the other hand, is holding himself back from fucking your brains out. Your cunt is rich, warm, and so tight. He is breathing heavily once more and you can feel his heart racing in his chest. He can smell the jasmine from your perfume, and yes seeing you dressed up like a girl scout was the hottest fucking thing he's seen in a long time. Plus the fact that you actually are a girl scout is all the more better. Toji feels you licking at his shoulder and a shiver moves through him.

Are you more naughtier than he thinks? Just what kind of girl are you? Toji really wants to know what kind of kinky things he could get himself tangled up in with you.

"Fuck pretty girl, you're...so..fucking tight-" he growls, pressing his hands into you lower back, making you arch slightly and whimper loudly. You are already adjusted to his size and like a needy slut, you want him to go faster, harder... deeper.

"P-please Mr. Fushiguro, go..f-faster w-an-need more..." You whine almost incoherently, trying to move your hips to gain the speed you want, you are already high on ecstasy.

"Stay fucking still-" Toji demands with a pant, he can feel himself growing excited again and after a moment he starts thrusting into you harder making you cry out. You wrap your little arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life. Toji takes this as a sign that you wanted more- so he gives you just that.

In an instant, Toji is roughly plowing his hips into yours. The sensation is so overwhelming that you can't help but close your eyes, letting your tongue hang out, your cries are senseless, just babbling. Unfitting strings of curse word and "oh mys" and "please"... Toji is busy watching your ass over your back as you took his cock like the fucking champ you were. He finds your helpless whimpers and moans so adorable.

"You must of been quite popular with the boys in school huh?" Toji groans as he smacks your ass. He was enjoying this way too much. "You're taking this big cock like a champ because you know how to, uh? You're a naughty girl, Y/n." He taughts mercilessly, his words sounding sinister.

The words Toji are speaking to you only adda to your euphoria- making your head spin with pleasure and all you can do was choke out a measly "Y-yes..." You aren't sure to which question at this point. Cock was overloading your senses.

This made Toji chuckle darkly and suddenly he wants to see your cute little innocent face while he was giving you the best dick you've ever had. His hand grabs your bun harshly, forcing your head back a little, his other hand comes to grip you chin to make you look directly at him.

Your pussy clenches at the sudden feeling of him being careless with you and he starts fucking you harder. The sound of your skin slapping against his was overwhelming. There is a look in his eyes that was beyond nasty, it can only be described as demonically lustful and it almost makes you come.

"Oh? You fucking like this don't you, Y/n?" Toji quizzes while he lets go of your chin to run his finger over your tongue that you don't realize was still hanging out of your mouth until you feel his rough finger pads swipe over the soft flesh.

"You should see how your pretty face looks right now...look at you taking this big fucking cock like this...who knew the girl next door was such a slut for big cocks from older men?" Toji squalls as he smirks and pulls you down so he could finally kiss you.

When your lips meet his he immediately slips his tongue in, you can taste the faint but unmistakable taste of alcohol on his mouth and it only makes you moan louder right into his mouth, which he swallows greedily.

"Such...wet...pussy for me...pretty girl." Toji manages to sneak into you mouth as he moves his hands back to hold your ass, as he starts using his arms to pull you down to meet his maddening thrusts.

"Moan for me baby..." He urges, licking his lips. "Let Toji hear your pretty sounds..." You can hear the smugness in his voice it was undeniably there.

You oblige, crying out his name, as his dirty words make you clench around his shaft. You are positive you were gonna cum if he keeps it up.

"Shit... shit...I..." You started before suddenly Toji stands up, you immediately wrap your arms around him, opening your legs allowing him to bounce you on his cock. You feel the cool wall behind your back as Toji continues to rut into you. He holds you up with such ease like you weigh nothing to him.

He lets out a low throaty growl as he places his face into your neck. Encouraging you to rub your poor neglected clit. You don't hesitate as you slide you finger down to swirl it on your sensitive little bundle of nerves. It doesn't take much, you're already so worked up from this entire experience and when you feel Toji bite into your neck, you're coming.

"Oh, gosh...Toji...I.. fuck- cummin'..." You whine while feeling the muscles in your abdomen tightening along with the explosion of pleasure that rips through your body. Leaving you essentially limp in Toji's arms, as you rub at your clit trying to make the feeling last as long as possible.

"That's it...pretty girl, cum around my cock...like you did my fingers earlier..." Toji encourages all throughout your orgasm. He smirks as he feels your walls contract around his shaft. He is ready to fill you up his seed.

The sounds of you squealing, his name...is what makes Toji unload into you. With a few more short pumps of his hips, his seed seeps into you, and he held you against the wall, breathing heavily into your neck.

As your high manags to subside for a moment, you look down towards your pussy, to see the mix of your wetness and Toji's cum mix and leak down his shaft. It is the hottest fucking thing you've ever seen and it makes you giggle a little.

"Fuck, Y/n...look at that..." Toji chuckles as he was also looking at the mess on his cock. After a few more moments he puts you down. Your legs felt like jelly, and for a moment you had to lean on Toji for support.

"How much did you say a box of cookies was?" Toji asks gently, with a touch of lust in his voice.

Oh fuck...those damn cookies....

#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #smut writer #smut writing

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sinsandsweetness · 4 months

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cw- smutty stuff, free use concept but very much consensual (Rick x reader mostly but all of the boys x reader mentioned too)

note- small blurb that’s totally not proofread, and will probably edit at another time. haven’t written in a few weeks so feeling rusty… feedback is apreciated or just general commentary ofc. have been in a really lovey, gentle, sweet smut mood lately so this is what ur getting sorry. don’t know why I’m so obsessed with reader being a form of escape but… ya. enjoy:)

Been having the filthiest thoughts about being the community free use slut. Everyone using you to relieve some stress. Yes, you read that right; everyone. You’re their perfect little plaything that will never say no. That just gets on her knees and takes it. No matter when or where.

It starts way at the beginning, with Shane and Daryl and Merle. Them taking turns dragging you to their tents, late at night when everyone else is asleep. Sometimes it’s just one of them, but other times they share. Take you at the same time and fill as many holes as they can. Leave you with the faintest blue and purple marks scattered all over your neck for the rest of the group to squint at in the morning. To gossip and whisper about over breakfast. Your berry stained lips and innocent eyes reminding them all of a pretty little doll they seem to treat you like.

And then you get to the prison, where things are tense, and discover that your… well, intimate service are needed more than ever. Acting as the only acceptable vice for the group to take their frustrations out on, in what you would describe as a relatively healthy way. At least considering the alternative. So while Rick is losing his mind and you’re already sharing a cell, he decides to try what a few of his friends have been doing right from the start. Using your pretty mouth as the escape they claim that works so well.

And he’s pleasantly surprised at the fact you’re more than willing. To let him urge you into the cell way before the sun has set. To let him drag you down to his bunk in the middle of the night where he doesn’t waste any time peeling your sleep shorts off in a mess of tangled sheets and blankets. And the whole time he’s with you, your lips burn hot as they trail down his neck and nip at newly sunburnt skin. You kiss him without thinking and your tongue tastes like toothpaste and bad decisions as it traces over his own and your hands seem to know the exact spots that have him pushing his jeans down to his ankles in almost shameful, record breaking time. But he doesn’t seem to mind because most importantly, having you right beneath him in the dim lit concrete cell, means that his mind, even just momentarily, is finally blank. For a few minutes, as long as you keep bringing your lips back to meet his, he has nothing to worry about. No crying newborn baby, no walkers, no fast spreading diseases or quarantines or mysterious unsolved murders. Nothing. Well, except the volume at which your pretty little moans are crawling their way up your chest and taunting your next door cell mates.

It’s when he finally has your legs wrapped around his waist and you’re so fucking warm and holy shit you’re wet, and your hands won’t leave his shoulders and your nails are scratching and raking down his back in the most pleasurable burn he could ever imagine… that, that is when it comes to him. When he finally fucking get’s it.

He understands exactly why every time it came to going on a run or splitting the group up, Daryl was always first to claim you as his partner. Why Shane was so obsessed with fixing some damn watch he found you so you could meet him out behind the barn or on the edge of the woods wearing nothing but a sundress and a smile, not a minute later then midnight. He even understood why Merle was acting uncharacteristically nicer to you than anyone else as he pouted and paced around his cell, begging for all kinds of attention but only really wanting the one. The one that was proving to be completely and irrationally addictive the more Rick thought about it. The more he focused on your skin under his hands and how sweet your voice sounded when you could no longer form a coherent sentence.

While he catches his breath, arms still wrapped around your waist, he can feel your legs trembling on either side of him as your hands continue to cup his face ever so gently. He doesn’t even open his eyes when you lean in to bite his lip and drag it out slowly before peppering sweet, meaningless kisses all down his jaw, neck and shoulders. It’s then, when your touch is making the back of his neck tingle and his breath hitch in his throat that he can’t help but feel like he’s been missing out. A whole year of this that the other guys have been experiencing? It doesn’t really seem fair. Not now that he’s had a taste. Now that he knows exactly why every man you’ve encountered since the world went to shit, has taken such an extreme and undeniable liking to you. Not now that he feels like he has to make up for lost time, pressing his forehead against yours and rocking himself back into you for the second time that night. You don’t object. You just spread your legs even further and pull at the damp curls at the base of his neck, silently urging him to keep on moving.

You don’t mind being used. Not really. It’s what you’re there for. To distract him from the horrors of the world and remind him that there’s still at least one thing worth living for. Even if it’s just a warm body in a shared bottom bunk. You’re there to ensure that the scowl lines on his face soften and his eyes close in pure, unfocused elation while he forces your hips even deeper into the mattress with involuntary moan that escapes your lips.

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akoyaxs · 5 months

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Tì'eylan ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Word Count: 16k ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) ✮ A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>﹏<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Never in a million years would you have suspected that you’d end up close friends with Aonung.

When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Lo’ak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awa’atlu.

All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.

You weren’t sure if it was Neteyam’s near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the “pretty traitor” as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.

Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.

It was a little rough, but of course he didn’t mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure – so much so you were practically drowning in it – but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.

“Thank you.”

Your whisper – feeble and weak even to your own ears – would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of na’vi’s superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.

“Yep.”

And that had been just that.

No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.

You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.

It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the other’s life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.

Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.

You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldn’t tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. It’s not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.

Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Olo’eyktan – something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.

It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandora’s biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you aren’t entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.

“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of me myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. Lie.

But you weren’t about to admit the truth – that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.

“And what do you keep in that little book of yours then?” Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.

You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. He’s sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.

“What book?” you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.

“You know,” he snickers. “The one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-”

“If you ever read that Aonung,” you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? You’re an adult! “I swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.”

Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.

“If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And finally he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.

“What’s up with him?” Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonung’s fading back, which is unmistakably tense. “What did you do to him?”

“He just found out about my romping around,” you shrug. “And he-”

“He what?” Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. “Oh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?”

“Yes…?” you say slowly, confused why she’s so shocked. “He’s my friend.”

“So is Lo’ak, so is Neteyam,” Kiri points out. “But you aren’t telling them that you’re going around with-”

“That’s different,” you say quickly. “Lo’ak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung… is not.”

“Right,” Kiri says unconvinced.

There’s an awkward moment of silence in which she’s clearly waiting for you to say more.

“He’s infuriating,” you finally burst out.

“Yes he is,” Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally can’t take it anymore.

“Fine!” you snap, face flushed. “He’s absolutely irritating in every way, and now he’s suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE AREN’T EVEN A THING-”

“Are you sure about that?” Rotxo grins from the other side. “Just think about the way he acts when you’re around.”

“Annoying and cocky?” you huff, but you know what he means.

“Come on,” Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, “don’t tell me you’re this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?”

“That’s not a word,” you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.

“Okay enough,” Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. “No more obliviousness.”

“Where are you taking me?” you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.

“To get you changed,” she says carelessly. “We’re going out.”

Aonung wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.

You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadn’t know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure – barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awa’atlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing – that you were his.

But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.

The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.

On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.

He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasn’t the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.

But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.

They were Aonung’s people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.

They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.

Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?

Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he can’t be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldn’t smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.

So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?

They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and he’s not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. He’s already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why – when he sees you next, across the fire at a party – Aonung doesn’t take any chances.

It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach – cool in the clear night breeze – is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.

“What were you thinking?” he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friend’s arm to face him. “Why is she here?”

“Kiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,” Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friend’s continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.

“I thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?” Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. “But now you bring her here?”

Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonung’s hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.

“And what is so terrible about her being here?” Rotxo counters. “She’s been hanging around the village for ages, she’s been to these parties before. What’s your problem now?”

Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is – what Aonung’s deal is, why he cares, why his gaze can’t seem to stop drifting towards you, but he’s waiting for the words to be spoken.

Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.

Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.

You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.

He didn’t quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that na’vi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.

He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.

It’s hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.

You’ve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh… cress… dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonung’s heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.

It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonung’s view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. It’s wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he can’t pull away from his view.

He had always known tawtute bodies were different to na’vi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but he’d always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.

But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.

You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.

Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.

And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what he’s doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, he’s beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.

Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away – the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.

“What are you doing here?” Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.

“Same as you,” you shrug. “I’m here to have fun.”

Aonung is not happy to hear that.

His glare moves straight to Kiri, who’s watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he won’t have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.

But he can’t think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then you’d doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he can’t just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.

From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonung’s pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.

Just as he thinks maybe it’ll be over – that no one will bother you anymore – people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the na’vi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.

And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.

So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log you’ve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiri’s slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.

Kiri certainly doesn’t miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you don’t notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.

You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.

Yet when some stupid warrior – Tsu’kae, Aonung thinks his name is – blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?

Slowly so he doesn’t attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, you’re closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.

When you finally notice Aonung’s stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.

Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.

“Yeah,” he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isn’t exactly easy to scare off any other guys when he’s already about to explode just having you this close.

He feels slightly stupid; you’re watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, he’s watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.

It’s only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsu’kae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, he’s on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.

With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm – the one caging you beside him – sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so you’re gently slid along the long till you’re pressed against his solid side.

You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsu’kae finally makes his way besides you.

“May I sit here?” he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.

Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.

Unfortunately, Tsu’kae misses Aonung’s glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsu’kae can join you.

The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.

“Sure,” he rumbles to Tsu’kae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasn’t expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.

Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonung’s reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsu’kae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonung’s plain message – you cannot have her.

Yet maybe Aonung didn’t completely think this plan through.

You’d never sat on his lap before, and although he’d often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate you’d be against him, this was completely different.

He can feel everything about you. Your thighs – almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass – are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.

And he can smell you. It’s warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. There’s something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.

He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck – your soft hair falling around him – and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.

It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsu’kae. To remind himself that it isn’t just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.

You’re finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like there’s a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.

Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.

Eywa, he really didn’t think this through.

Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart – never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.

But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called “friend” is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.

What if you think he’s some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Lo’ak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?

Fuck.

From the corner of his eye – Aonung’s too scared to move enough to properly turn his head – he can see Tsu’kae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.

Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friend’s lap, you’re starting to settle back. You’ve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.

Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back – nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing – is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.

The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell you’re wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you won’t notice how he’s breathing in your scent.

But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isn’t getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Tsu’kae offers after a moment of tense silence that you don’t seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just don’t pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, shifting to give him a little smile.

A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsu’kae’s face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.

Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.

There’s a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.

“Do you mind?” you grumble. “If you’re going to try cockblocking me, at least don’t nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.”

Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didn’t notice. Eywa, he’s never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.

“I’m not trying to cock block you,” he says instead, and you scoff.

“Please,” you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. “You really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.”

“I am not,” Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesn’t understand. “Besides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsu’kae.”

“Really?” you say coolly. Aonung suddenly can’t picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though you’re trying to make it even, hiding whatever you’re actually thinking right now. “And what is so terrible about Tsu’kae?”

“He’s dim-witted,” Aonung points out. “Slow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-”

“Ah yes,” you interrupt, “everything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.”

“And he’s obviously just horny,” Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsu’kae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.

“So someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?” you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. “There’s nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?”

“No,” Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words – ones that don’t give away his own… excitement. “There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Who said anything about there being something wrong with me?” you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he can’t quite make out.

“No one- nothing- what?” Aonung stammers, confused at why you’re suddenly so upset. “You are just far too good for Tsu’kae. He does not deserve your time.”

“Then who does?” you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still don’t pull away from your seat in his lap. “What about Sokzu-”

“He is arrogant,” Aonung shoots the idea down.

“What about Ta’ru-”

“Incompetent,” Aonung interrupts again.

“Or Kayo-”

“Lazy-”

“Zäki?”

“Seriously,” Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. “Do you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?”

Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what you’re thinking.

“What are you trying to say, Aonung?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

You’re still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He can’t look away.

“I brought you unilpay,” a voice interrupts.

You both turn to see Tsu’kae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he’s drunk now, and Aonung doesn’t fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.

Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsu’kae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, “Would you like to come for a walk, tawtute?”

Instantly, Aonung’s blood has turned to ice. He doesn’t even look at you before snapping, “She’s good.”

Tsu’kae’s face falls in a small frown, and he, – stupidly – drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he slurs. “I was talking to her.”

“And I gave you an answer,” Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. “She’s not going to go anywhere with you.”

Again, Tsu’kae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.

“And what are you going to do to stop her?” he leers. “If she wants to come?”

“Do you want to go?” Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. You’re all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsu’kae who scowls.

“Of course she want-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you want to go with him?”

Your lips part. You don’t seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsu’kae’s drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.

“Come on taw-”

You’re no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than he’s on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsu’ake’s jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.

“Let her go,” Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.

It’s a little awkward, and you’re wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and you’re struggling to free yourself.

“Now,” Aonung adds.

Reluctantly, Tsu’kae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonung’s heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.

“Touch her again,” Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, “and I kill you.”

Tsu’kae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t shift in the slightest, and Tsu’kae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsu’kae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.

“Pathetic,” Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. “You actually thought you’d get to have time with her.”

Tsu’kae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonung’s cheek. It isn’t particularly painful, but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where he’s met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. You’re still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsu’kae’s laughable punch. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you don’t feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.

When he drops you off at your marui, it’s with a strange ache in his chest.

You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong na’vi alcohol is to you, and before you know what’s happening, he’s turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.

“Here,” he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. “Drink this before you sleep.”

“You’re looking after me,” you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.

“Well, I didn’t go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,” Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. “Eywa, you’re just going to have to sleep in this.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.

Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him – and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.

Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, “Just get some sleep.”

You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure there’s water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.

Aonung turns back. You don’t say anything, just continuing to stare at him. It’s a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Aonung doesn’t reply, just giving you a soft smile.

It’s not until Aonung’s back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.

It’s filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment – the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap – his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.

This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he can’t help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.

Eywa, just the thought of you at that party – hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one that’s now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.

Fuck.

Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. It’s just to take the edge off. It doesn’t mean anything.

Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.

But he can’t bring himself to process all the copious issues of what he’s doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.

There’s a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.

Ones in which you’re squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where you’re arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.

When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.

There’s something just so filthy about this.

You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?

Even so, he can’t help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then he’s speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.

Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.

His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.

Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much… more.

Your words come to cross his mind again; “Why would people be attracted to me?”

The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.

But that wasn’t entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.

His little friend.

That same blazing shame doesn’t go away after a restless nights’ sleep.

Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he can’t bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, it’s just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, he’s met with you.

“Morning!” you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that you’ve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. “Tsireya’s forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.”

Aonung’s about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.

“You will go swimming?” he asks dubiously.

“Yup.”

And that does it.

Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that it’s Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.

You’re chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.

You’ve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you aren’t hiding as much of your body as you typically do.

The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top you’re wearing – a simple white tank – is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.

The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.

When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.

You don’t follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.

Oh.

Fuck.

You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.

Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.

After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonung’s sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.

But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. “Should- uh – should we get in?”

You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesn’t watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesn’t need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.

He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean – especially beside na’vi – slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that you’re not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isn’t going to complain.

You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.

After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sully’s, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you can’t reach the bottom).

“You good there?” he grins, wading over to you.

“Yep,” you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.

“Need a hand?” he snickers. “You look like you’re having a little trouble. Do yo-”

“Just get over here skxawng,” you grumble.

The moment he’s in arms reach, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you – your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.

“You know,” Kiri says with delicate mirth, “we should be heading back soon, right Ro?”

“Yeah,” Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. “You coming Neteyam?”

“We’ll come too,” Tsireya grins, tugging Lo’ak along behind her.

You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why they’re leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.

Tsireya has to give Lo’ak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boys’ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.

“Are you alright?” Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.

And suddenly, he notices something.

There’s none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, you’re just staring at him with complete and utter… something.

Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and na’vi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but you’re just completely unreadable.

Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. You’re inches away.

He clears his throat.

No no no.

Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.

There is something different. Something off.

And there’s a sinking feeling that tells him things just won’t go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.

It’s green.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement.

“What for?” you reply quietly.

“For causing a little scene,” Aonung says quietly.

He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.

“Right.”

“And cutting you off,” he adds in a mumble.

He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.

You don’t reply. He still doesn’t risk a glance at you.

“And for upsetting you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.

“I’m not upset,” you say quietly.

Aonung turns to look at you. You’re also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.

“You aren’t?” he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.

“Nope,” you sigh, wearily popping the p. “It’s just- um… why did you do it?”

“Do what.”

“The whole thing,” you say, gesturing in front of you. “Of protecting me and making sure I didn’t make a mistake. Plus the… the um…”

Aonung stares in disbelief. He’s never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.

“The whole kill him if he touches me thing,” you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.

It’s Aonung’s turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.

“You are small,” Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. “And delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-”

“I am not weak,” you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.

That’s who he was – he protected you, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.

Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.

You must have noticed how those words hit him – how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.

“Aonung?” you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No,” he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you whisper. At Aonung’s bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. “At least - you could never convince me.”

“Fine,” Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that there’s no going back.

He knows you know something’s wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else – something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.

“They are not fit for you, tsawksyul.”

You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if it’s because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.

“Then who is?” you say dully.

“Not anyone here,” Aonung tells you.

Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. It’s strange really, that he’s gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly… fluffy he feels right now.

But apparently you aren’t finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.

“So… I don’t get anyone,” you say.

Aonung isn’t stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.

“Right,” you snap.

“Have I upset you?” Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though it’s made of jelly.

“Nice observation sherlock,” you huff. “You’d want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I don’t fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that you’d be that much better?”

No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonung’s body betrays him – reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.

“Well…” he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. “Yes?”

“And why is that,” you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. “You really think you’re that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that you’re the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.”

Aonung’s brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.

“No!” he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. “I’m sorry-”

“You know,” you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, “I thought you weren’t like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I – as an adult woman by the way – was not some little … celibate fucking nun!”

“In what way?” Aonung asks, confused.

You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.

“Are you fucking serious?” you snap. “You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be… UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass I’ve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aonung says, frowning.

“Well there obviously fucking is if I love you!”

You freeze. So does he.

Your words – irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.

The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.

Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, you’ve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasn’t said anything, and even though he can see that’s breaking you, he just isn’t able to speak. “Please… say something skxawng.”

Silence.

“Oh god,” you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m just going to-”

“I love you too.”

“Please just forget- wait what?”

There’s a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.

Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. He’s vaguely aware of his heart thumping – so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it – but he can’t summon any thoughts into his brain.

“Since when,” you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadn’t been na’vi, if he hadn’t been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.

“Since fucking forever,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.”

“Just because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,” you scoff, “does not make me a genius in comparison.”

“So we’re just two little lovestruck idiots, then?”

“Guess so.”

There’s a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonung’s head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.

When he catches you, he’s sure he’ll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.

“God, I love you.”

Aonung doesn’t even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.

Fuck.

Eywa.

How had he managed to go this long without this.

All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. There’s something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that you’re melting on his tongue.

Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.

Well, good riddance.

Aonung’s hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.

You’re making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.

When he’d imagined this – during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock – you’d been different. Sometimes you’d be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others you’d be desperate and ravenous and impatient.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.

He’s so hard he thinks he might actually die, but he’ll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.

When he’s worried you’re quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.

As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand – splayed out to hold you up – spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.

Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses he’s shared in his lifetime, that’s never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.

“You good?” you smile against his lips, but he suspects it’s more of a smirk. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. It’s an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.

You’re still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he can’t read your expression. He thinks for a moment you’re going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.

“Let’s get back,” you breathe exultantly.

“Why-”

“Because I don’t really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,” you grin.

“So we’re going to fuck?” Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.

“Up to you,” you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. “I mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-”

You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.

He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight – you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.

He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.

You laugh – sweet and clear and loud – as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. There’s barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.

When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if he’s in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.

He’s extremely pleased to note you’re already starting to smell like him – a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isn’t about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.

And then he can’t stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.

You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then he’s lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.

And then he does it again. And again – adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesn’t know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but he’ll make sure you know that you’re his.

“Aonung,” you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. “Aonung!”

“Yes?” he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.

“Not yet tsawksyul,” he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. “You are not ready yet.”

“Yes I am,” you snap, scowling at him. “I’ve taken na’vi men before, just-”

“Patience,” he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.

You look like you’re about to shout at him when Aonung’s hand leaves your face and finds it’s way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then you’re nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.

Fuck.

His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one he’s been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, he’d prefer this heaven over anything else. His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.

“Do you want this tsawksyul?” he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Ye- yes,” you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.

“Are you sure,” he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. “We can do something else- we don’t have to-”

“No!” you gasp, eyes widening at those words. “No- I want this.”

“You have to tell me,” Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, “if you don’t like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe, and he grins.

When he finally dives between your legs, it’s without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.

He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction – accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp – he can guess you hadn’t been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.

He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.

Fuck yes.

He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair – curls and kuru and all – and you tug.

Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.

But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. You’re already squirming and gasping for breath – only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and don’t stops.

He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when you’re making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure – the sounds and taste and scent of it – is nearly tipping him over the edge.

He can tell you’re close, and that’s what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.

He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing you’d feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.

When he knows you’re about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.

You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.

It’s only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.

He isn’t sure why that’s what does it – though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips – but then he’s also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.

But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, it’s a marvel it hadn’t happened earlier.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.

“A- Aonung,” you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.

His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, “Open these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.”

He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before he’s diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you – stubborn as ever – continue the struggle of attempting speech, “You-”

“Just one more,” he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.

You’re whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of don’t stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.

Aonung’s moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.

All that exists is you. You’re so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.

His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge he’s working.

It isn’t exactly best-friendly; the thoughts he’s having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.

“Aonung!” you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. “you need- slow down - ‘s too much.”

“You’re doing so well,” he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.

Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.

Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.

Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.

“God- Aonung!”

Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.

“Oh my…” you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. “Oh my god- I’m so sorry.”

Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.

“Aonung?” you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.

“Mm?” he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.

“Care to fuck me now?”

Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.

“Are you sure?” he questions gently. “I mean you just-”

His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to – tortuously slowly – pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when you’ve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.

A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.

He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike na’vi, and he’s never been gladder that your aren’t just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.

With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesn’t miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.

The second you’re balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though it’s what you need to live. He’s a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.

Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.

“Oh baby,” you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. “Was this all for me?”

Before he can answer – though he doesn’t think he’d even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him – your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.

“Take these off.”

“Are you su-” Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.

“Yes,” you whisper impatiently. “It’s not fair that I’m here all naked and you still get clothes.”

“I’m basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,” he protests.

“What, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,” you snap, and he knows you’re growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.

He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.

“Just take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.

“You already did, tsawksyul,” he whispers.

“Not properly,” you press. “I want to do it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because you’re grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.

The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonung’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Fuck yes.”

Your words explode from you as though you didn’t mean to say them, and a moment later you’re flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before he’s lifting you back onto him again.

It’s bare – skin on glorious skin.

He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. You’re so soft – thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement – but you’re also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks you’re killing him.

It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, he’ll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.

He always knew patience wasn’t your strong suit, but you’re growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.

With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.

You’re clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. You’re tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like he’s being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.

When you let out a hoarse whine – the stretch is evident even to him – Aonung winces. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.

He can’t look away from where you’re swallowing him whole. It’s a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesn’t come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.

And then finally, Aonung’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.

He’s dying. He has to be. Because there’s no damn way he didn’t just go to paradise.

The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. “You’re all the way here.”

“Taking me so well syulang,” Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. “Doing so good for me.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you don’t know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. You’re gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.

Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesn’t need to be a genius to see you’re in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well you’re doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.

“Oh god,” you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonung’s chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. “Oh god, Aonung.”

The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, tsawksyul.”

The words fall on practically deaf ears. You’re so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts you’re even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.

You’re clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesn’t know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether they’re of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.

Aonung couldn’t care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.

“Eywa, they didn’t do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,” Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. “You don’t need any of them ever again, you got that? You won’t ever need anyone else.”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he groans, hardly even aware of what he’s saying anymore. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be there with you.”

“Ao- Aonung?” you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. “I wa- I want-”

“I know, I know,” Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. There’s no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isn’t greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. “I’ve got you.”

It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.

It’s with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.

The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.

His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently – a softness at complete odds to the way he’s fucking you.

It feels sinful – the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.

He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you – all stretched and beautiful – around him, taking everything he gives you.

The sounds you’re making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.

Eywa, you’re so much tighter than he ever imagined – ever dreamed of. He’s pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.

The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.

You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it – all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.

He knew from the start he wasn’t going to last long, but he can see that you clearly aren’t going to either.

Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you aren’t cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesn’t almost fuck you straight through the bed.

Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. He’s wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that there’s no slowing down now.

Nothing – not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires – could compare to this. To you.

And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him it’s bordering on sinful pain.

He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh god-” you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“I know, I got you,” Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isn’t even sure he’s physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.

It seems to almost go forever, and there isn’t a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.

He’s grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. He’s so proud of the way you took him that he’s actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.

That’s that.

It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.

He’s hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point it’s spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.

Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.

When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesn’t bother to pull out.

You’re still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You don’t protest – though he’s careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.

You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.

You’re also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.

Here you are, the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, when he’s regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.

You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good,” Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. “You won’t need anyone else ever again.”

“Oh, really?” you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way you can’t stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.

“Can I kiss you, tsawksyul?”

You don’t respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.

“What?”

“You just fucked me near boneless,” you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, “and now you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

“Yes…?” he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.

“Yes,” you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

And he does.

Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.

He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.

Then you’re giggling against him and he’s laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.

He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.

But this is the same then ever – albeit you’re naked. And in love.

Aonung smiles.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment you’ll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.

So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyone’s reaction to you and him. He finds he couldn’t care less.

Eywa, he’s so happy to have you here.

His little friend.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

#aonung fanfiction #aonung x reader #avatar fanfiction #aonung fic #avatar smut #aonung x female reader #avatar #aonung #avatar the way of water #avatar fandom #aonung x human reader #aonung x human #avatar x human reader #friends to lovers

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upsidedownmvnson · 1 year

Note

I love Eddie's little somethings, what would his reaction be when he finds out that you keep all the things he's made for you, you've pressed, dried, and kept a lot of flowers he got for you and stuck them in a scrapbook etc

STOP - they're talking about this post <3 but specifically this one;

when [eddie's] meant to give you gift (birthdays/holidays etc) he prefers to make something. one time he recorded two cassettes of himself playing all your favourite songs, one slow, instrumental & acoustic for studying, and one how they were meant to be sang for jamming. he's also made a popsicle stick diorama of your childhood tree fort that was torn down, and a DnD campaign on your birthday based on your favourite fantasy movie

so i imagine that eddie is like a outside cat

he finds shiny trinkets and brings them to you, the spoils of his adventures. but then curl up on your lap lol

he'd bring you anything, a pretty flower (or weed), a pinecone that looked funny, a pretty leaf, and he doesn't think you'll want them... he just likes to show you stuff

one day he's waiting for you in your room, you just had to run across the street to grab something for your mother from a neighbour, he couldn't come because he wasn't supposed to be over when your parents aren't home

and he's poking around for fun

not spying or snooping, you always let him look through your things bc you have nothing to hide, when the spine of a book catches his eye

it looks like a photo album, but when he pulled it out he wasn't surprised to see a picture of the two of you stuck to the front, and also little heart stickers. it was your favourite picture, eddie was in his throne, and you were across his lap, legs flopping over the armrest. you were both smiling so wide for the picture, because it had been the day eddie made a dnd campaign based on your favourite movie for your birthday, and you two had exchanged your first 'i love yous' in front of hellfire because you couldn't contain your love anymore (i should write a full imagine for this me thinks)

but when he opened it he realized it was a scrap book

the inside cover page was your character from that day (your fav character from the movie)

and the next page was filled with flowers, all pressed flat and dry, assembled intricately around post-it notes, taped down with little passages on them. some were quotes. some were reasons you loved eddie. some were little memories you didn't want to forget.

he was so fixated on the book that he had to sit down, his eyes glossing over from reading all the sweet things you thought about him

it was more real, seeing things you'd written without assuming eddie would see it. it was your real, pure feelings for him.

he flipped thru the pages to find all sorts of things like that. notes he'd written you & left in your locker or passed to you in class. tickets to movies or shows you'd gone to.

a tear landed on the page, and it shocked eddie. he was crying. he was so happy. it made no sense to him, how someone like you could invest all your time and love into him.

his heart was so full

"awh, baby," you'd say from the doorway, leaning on it. "it wasn't supposed to make you cry."

and he'd discard the book beside him, saying nothing but opening his arms so you would come sit with him.

and of course you did, straddling him, and letting him bury his head in your shoulder. he sniffled, his shoulder shaking gently from the overwhelming feelings he was having. he'd never ever felt like this.

"it's beautiful, thank you for making that."

and he'd also collected everything you'd ever given him, and he would for sure be making one of this to keep at his house.

you would rub his hair, soothing him and whispering sweet things, reminding him that you love him, and more importantly that he was worth all the love. you wanted him to know he deserved it. deserved the whole damn world <3

"okay but check this out"

and you'd take him over to a shelf that had the popsicle stick diorama of your childhood treehouse and took it down.

he'd noticed it had a hinge on the back, but he hadn't put it there

you had carefully cut the glue to the roof so it could open like a hatch, and inside you'd made it even better, painting it to actually look like the fort, and adding some little doll furniture. it was an idea dustin had thrown out while they were making it but he'd never been inside.

he wanted to ask if it was accurate but there was more

there were all kinds of things stuffed in there, it looked like a squirrel was living in there.

and he realized it was the spoils of adventure that he'd brought you. pinecones, rocks, a fake quarter, the monopoly dog, a gum wrapper with a joke on it

and he wanted to cry again but he didn't, instead just put the treehouse away, and pulled you in for the biggest bear hug ever.

he picked you up and spun you around a few time, before walking you over to the bed so he could drop you on it, climbing on top of you to kiss you, and so eddie show you how much he really appreciated it

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fiction #stranger things fic #stranger things s4 #stranger things #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 8 days

Text

Chances

A co-workers, enemies to friends piece for you guys!!

Warnings: mentions of cheating, rude/snippy remarks, alcohol use

WC: like 3-4k?

If there was anyone that frustrated the living daylights out of you in the office, it was Harry. You swore that God had designed him with the sole purpose of irritating you. You didn’t hate him, you didn’t know him that well. But you didn’t get on well with him; you were just opposites and often times had opposing views or solutions for things. He wasn’t lazy but he distracted everyone all the time because he finished his work quite fast. Like now…

You bit your lip, trying to hold back from saying something as he and your cubicle neighbor, Adam, laughed loudly about something. It was hard to concentrate on your editing with this racket! Music distracted you instead of help you concentrate, so you didn’t want to put on headphones, you really needed the quiet. After another minute of their commotion you shot up from your seat and went over to the little stool you had against your shared wall with Adam and stepped on so you could peer over the division.

“Can you two shut it, please? I have a last minute thing to do and the deadline’s in an hour!” You implored with a frown on your face and they both glanced over to you, smiling fading.

“Yeah. Sorry, Y/N.”, “Sorry.” They both mumbled before you clambered down and went back to your seat.

Harry wasn’t a dick, if things got to a point like this, where you had to say something to him, he always apologized. You had no idea why you suddenly developed this dislike towards him, but you just did and you could tell it bothered him. You sighed when you heard two gentle knocks on the frosted glass sliding door of your divider.

“What?” You asked monotonously and when there was no response you rolled your chair over and opened it up, startling Harry who was scribbling on a sticky note now. “What is it, Harry?”

“Nothing, just wanted to apologize again for the noise.” He offered another apology and you just nodded once. “Ummm…so what piece are you editing?” He asked, taking a step closer to you and you sighed.

“Harry, all the time I waste chatting with you about work is time I could spend actually doing my work.” You pointed out and he nodded.

“Right.” He hummed with a tight lipped smile before he took off without another word. You bit your lip nervously, feeling a bit bad over the way you’d dealt with this situation. You’d been rude for no reason and seeing him leaving all defeated like that made you feel like shit.

“That was harsh.” Adam said, peering over the division and you glanced over at him and nodded.

“I know. I’ll make it right later.” You assured him and he smiled and nodded. You got on well with Adam, you wouldn’t say you were close but you were friends, he was the one that bought you the stool to be able to look over the 6 foot division between the two of you. You could have lunch or get drinks after work sometimes and carry conversations, and more importantly, you could hold each other accountable. Whether that was in your personal conversations or with things at work.

“Good.” He said and then went to sit down again.

With the peace and quiet you were able to finish editing before the hour deadline came and the most stressful part of your day was over. You hated when the did last minute changes or additions to the magazine but it was part of the job. You couldn’t imagine how much more stressful it’d be to work for the newspaper or even for the TV where changes could be made in real time! So you let go of that frustrating part of your morning and then went to lunch. You stopped by the coffee shop around the corner and got Harry an iced, Vanilla Cinnamon latte. It was the office favorite and the perfect peace offering. So you made your way over to Harry’s cubicle with the little note you had scribbled preemptively (you were hoping he was still on lunch because confrontation was hard) but you saw him sitting there just scrolling through his phone. You bit your lip and stuffed the note in your pocket before knocking on the frame of the sliding door.

“Harry?” You said as you knocked and he turned around. When he saw it was you, he straightened up.

“Hey, Y/N.” He greeted you with a half-smile.

“Hey.” You said nervously, “Ummm, s-sorry for being rude to you earlier. I was annoyed and I took it out on you and Adam.” You explained, “Well, mostly on you.” You added.

“That’s alright, last minute additions are a pain.” He said and you nodded, relieved at his understanding.

“Yeah…so I ummm, got you this.” You said extending the drink to him, “It’s the vanilla cinnamon one that everyone seems to love.” You shared and he smiled at you.

“Wow, thank you so much. You didn’t have to.” He thanked you and you shook your head.

“It’s nothing really.” You assured him, “Just a peace offering.” You said and he nodded.

“Well thanks again.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome. Sorry again for earlier.” You said before hurrying off to your desk.

It was maybe 20 minutes later when you went to the kitchenette to grab some more water when you saw two of the girls from campaigning sitting at the table in there. The one called Destiny looked giddier than ever as she sipped on a latte, a latte that when she set it down had Harry’s name written in black sharpie. He had regifted your peace offering?! You were livid and felt betrayed! Maybe you had pushed him too far this time and he disliked you now too! You couldn’t help it when you mouth opened to ask her about it.

“H-hey Destiny, did someone do a coffee run?” You asked her and she shook her head and smiled cheerfully.

“No, Harry got it for me over lunch. Said he knew I liked these. He’s so sweet!” She said and you were holding off an eye-twitch.

“Wow, so sweet.” You said and then rushed back out without your water. You started to storm over to his area but then stopped yourself. You didn’t like him and he clearly didn’t like you, which was fine. This was fine and yes, your feelings were hurt, but you’d done the same to him and well, a coffee was nothing compared to hurt feelings so you just trudged back to your desk and sat with a huff.

“What’s wrong?” You heard Adam ask from his cubicle.

“Nothing, just forgot to grab water before coming back.” You said and he hummed.

“I’ll be back…” you mumbled before heading back to the kitchen. You were filling up your water bottle when Harry walked in, humming a familiar little tune.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” He greeted you with pep and you turned to him.

“Harry. Did you enjoy your coffee?”

“I did, thank you! It’s not a favorite for nothing!” He said with a smile and you hummed.

“Well good. It’s a lot of people’s favorite here.” You said and he nodded with a smile, but he sensed the awkwardness emanating from you.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled again as you held eye contact with him for a few seconds and you just walked out without another word.

…. A FEW DAYS LATER ….

It had been a few days and you were still upset that Harry had regifted the coffee you’d bought him. And more than that, it irked you that now he thought you were friends. He’d say hello everyone morning and you’d just respond half-heartedly. He knew better than to strike up conversation while you were in the zone, so to him this was just you acting like you always did. And to you, well he was just lying and being fake, which made you like him even less. All of this was affecting you far more than you cared to admit. It really struck you with awe just how easily he had the others fooled! It was around lunch time when you contacted your best friend, Nina, to see if she wanted to meet up for drinks she agreed and now you had something to look forward to for the rest of the work day.

It was 7 on the dot when you walked in to the bar you’d agreed upon. It was a little bit up-scale, so you’d gone home and changed and done up your makeup a little bit more. Thankfully, the bar top had two open spots so you hurried over and set your purse down on the empty stool to reserve it for Nina. It wasn’t odd that Nina was late, after she had her daughter she was constantly running 15-30 minutes behind everyone. It was annoying but you knew that being a mom was also annoying sometimes, it was a full-time thing, 365/24/7. No days off. Around the 32 minute mark you got a text from her stating that the baby had a fever and she couldn’t leave her with her boyfriend, who was also sick. You sighed and then raised your hand to get the bartender.

“Ready?” He asked as he walked over.

“Yeah, just the espresso martini.” You said.

“Got it. Open or closed tab?”

“Just leave it open.” You said and he nodded before taking your card and setting that up.

You texted Nina back and then just looked around the bar, it was more full now and there were people waiting to sit, so you decided now was a good time to remove your things from the neighboring high chair. And as you gave one more look around the room your eyes landed on none other than Harry Styles. He looked relieved to see you and started making his way over to you. You sighed and turned to face the bar again, but moments later you heard his voice.

“Y/N!” He greeted you.

“Harry.” You mumbled, staring straight ahead.

“Can I…touch you?” He asked and you whipped around quickly, thanking the interior designers that these chairs spun.

“What?!”

“Can I touch you, not in a creepy way! Just, like a hand on your waist or hip?” He asked.

“You may not.” You scoffed.

“Oh my god, please! I ran into my ex outside and she already has another boyfriend! I told her I was seeing someone too because I…felt sad and jealous that she moved on and when he gets here and she gets inside I don’t want to look like a fool.” He explained and you pouted a bit. You knew about about exes that made you feel bad about yourself.

“Fine.” You sighed, “This seat is not gonna be taken anymore so just hop on.” You mumbled and he thanked you as he sat.

“So did you get stood up?” He asked carefully.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it was by my friend, not a date. Her baby is running a fever.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.”

“Yep.” You hummed and then moments later your drink came and Harry ordered the same. Which then reminded you of why you were so annoyed at him.

“Hey, I also wanted to ask, maybe this is not the time and place to have this conversation, but do you…have a problem with me?” He asked and you turned to him.

“Not really, I just…don’t mesh with you.” You said simply and he frowned. Everyone meshed with Harry. He was an air sign, he was freewheeling and fun and kind and creative!

“Well, why not?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t like your manner of doing things. Not that there’s anything wrong with it, I mean you’re getting things done and everyone likes the outcome of your work, it’s just the way you go about it. It doesn’t work for me. It’s not personal, Harry.”

“You make it personal though.” He said and you frowned.

“I don’t.”

“You do.” He insisted, “I’ve left it alone because you’re just how you are and everyone tells me that it’s not me, that you’re just…a certain way, but I don’t know you that well so…” he trailed off and you frowned.

“You talk about me to other people?”

“Sometimes…just to ask if they’ve heard you say anything about me, you know? Not to talk badly of you. But sometimes people come to me about it. I mean, it’s not like they don’t see the difference of how you treat them versus me.” He said and your brows furrowed. You thought your dislike towards him was discrete but everyone knew apparently.

“And everyone thinks I’m…a bitch?” You asked and he bit his lip nervously.

“I’ve never said that to anyone by the way, but people have…used that term from time to time.” He explained and you frowned, “I know we don’t know each other all that well but to me it just seems you’re just…a grump. Not a…well, you know.” He shrugged.

“Hey Harry!” You both heard and spun around to see who you presumed was his ex standing there with a tall man on her arm. She was breathtaking. You weren’t insecure about your looks all that often, but right now you were. You swear you’d seen this woman in some ad on the internet before.

“Hi Eden, nice to see you again.” He smiled.

“Yeah, we ran into each other outside.” She explained, “This is Gerard, my boyfriend.” She introduced him, “He models too.” She said and you and Harry both nodded.

“I’d imagine so!” Harry smiled easily. You were impressed at his composure after he admitted to you that he felt sad and jealous about this minutes before. Your irritation and insecurity would’ve flared far too easily and you would’ve made a fool of yourself. “Nice to meet you, Gerard.” He said extending his hand and shook it. “This is Y/N, my date tonight.” He said and then you felt Eden’s scrutinizing gaze down your face and body.

“Mmmm, kinda cute, I guess.” She said with a hint of snark and your eyes narrowed at her.

“Like those shoes!” You said with a sardonic smile and her mouth dropped open a bit, “We were kind of in the middle of an important conversation, so if you’re done trying to flaunt Gerard to your ex maybe it’s time you go find a seat.” You said and she just groaned and pulled Gerard along. Moments later Harry started laughing and you held back your smile as you turned back towards the bar.

“Oh, that was funny.” He chuckled, “Thanks for that.” He said to you with a smile and you maintained your serious facade.

“S’nothing, she was too condescending. And that poor man, being dragged into her games.”

“Either way, thank you. Standing up to her is not an easy feat.”

“Is that why you broke up?”

“Yeah…she was mean spirited and she cheated on me so-”

“Oh, that’s awful, Harry! I’m sorry.”

“Well at least she’s with him now and it wasn’t some rando.” He said and you shook your head.

“I guess but only an awful person betrays someone like that and it’s not worth you feeling sad or jealous over.” You stated firmly and glanced back at him and he was smiling a bit, “Or well…that’s my opinion about it.” You shrugged, sounding a bit less secure now that he was staring into your eyes.

“Well, thanks for that. I think I minimize it to…not feel so badly about it.” He explained and you hummed and reached for your drink again.

Everything you’d thought of Harry up until this point was the opposite of what he seemed to be. His constant need for socializing had you thinking he had no self awareness, but his priori statement made you realize that he did have it. Maybe you’d just judged him far too harshly for absolutely nothing. And well, no one likes to admit that they’re wrong…but you were wrong about him. But sadly, he wasn’t wrong about you and it made your smile fall.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you and you shook your head.

“It’s nothing.” You assured.

“Hey, tell me. The least I could do is listen after you retrieved my balls from the dragon guarding them.” He chuckled and you smirked, “Sorry for being crass but I mean…that’s what it was.” He said.

“I concluded that I have been wrong about you this whole time but you haven’t been wrong about me and that’s…it’s sad.” You said.

“It’s not like you’re a bad person. You’re just…irritable.” He said with a smile and you sighed.

“I try not to be…and like it’s not like in a condescending way. I don’t think I’m better than anyone else. I just…I’ve always had a hard time relating to other people. Like I’m not into the same things as everyone so I can’t join in on conversations a lot and it does upset me. But now everyone things I’m this kill joy and a raging bitch!” You said through a laugh of disbelief.

“I mean…what you did for me the other day? With the coffee?” He asked and then your smile fell again.

“You mean the coffee you regifted to Destiny?” You asked and he sighed. “I saw her with it in the kitchen. She said you bought it for her.” You said with an accusatory tone, “That…hurt my feelings.” You confessed. It felt like you were choking on sand, admitting that to him but it had been something you couldn’t move past.

“Okay, there’s an explanation.” Harry said, “I’m lactose intolerant and when I tried it I realized it wasn’t lactose free and I would get sick if I drank it. I didn’t want to throw it away and risk you seeing it in a garbage can. So I…gave it to the person who sat further away from you and told her a little white lie about it.” He explained and you couldn’t be upset at that.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright. I appreciated the gesture though! A lot! I thought maybe that meant we could start to be a little more chummy, you know?”

“I thought so too until I saw you regifted it.” You said and he smiled.

“Yeah…I should’ve said something then or asked. But I just assumed you knew. Usually when we group order I’m the only other person who gets a cold brew black-”

“Oh! I’m the other person who orders that!” You said excitedly and he grinned.

“Yeah? I mean, good coffee doesn’t need anything in my opinion. It has a whole flavor profile on its own!”

“Agreed!” You concurred and he smiled.

“See, there’s one thing in common.” He added and you hummed and smiled.

The rest of the evening with Harry was pleasant. After all of the unpleasantness you’d put him though you picked up his tab too and assured him that next time he could get you and well, he was pleased that there’d be a next time.

Harry was glad you two had a breakthrough. He was walking back to his car and was feeling for his keys in his pockets when he realized they weren’t there. He circled back to the bar and no one had turned anything in and they weren’t where you two sat or in the bathroom. So he hurried out to his car and upon peering in with his phone light on he saw them sitting in the cup holder. He groaned as he recalled that he’d seen Eden walking down the sidewalk when he was about to get out of the car.

“Shit…” he mumbled and then dialed your number.

“Hey Harry!” You answered right away as you had just gotten to the intersection.

“Hey, I hate to do this but I locked my keys in my car and my insurance thing is in there too and if I call a random tow they’ll charge me an arm and a leg…”

“Yeah, no worries ummm, I can circle back I’m just down the street.” You assured, “Did you need to stay over as well?” You asked.

“Only if you’re fine with that! If not I could see who’s up and can let me crash!”

“No that’s alright, my couch is very comfy.” You assured him.

“Okay, thank you so much! I parked around the corner on 4th.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few.” You assured and hung up.

Minutes later he was getting into your car, thanking you profusely for helping him out. He was searching through his emails for his insurance agent’s contact to give him a call in the morning, and thankfully he found it. He explained it wasn’t any of the bigger insurance companies since those were too pricey. So he ran everything by this guy to ensure that things would get covered by his policy if and when he ran into any issues. You fully understood this and chatted about it a bit more until you were at your apartment.

Once you got in you assured him he could borrow some stuff from your ex boyfriend that’d been left behind and got him a spare toothbrush too and he went off to get showered and changed while you made up the couch for him. You waited for him to get out and then headed back out with two pillows.

“Hey, ummm soft or firm?” You asked him.

“Whichever one you don’t use.” He smiled.

“Oh no, I have like 6 pillows, you choose the one you prefer.” You assured.

“Firm, please.”

“Alright, here you are.” You said walking it over to him.

“Y/N, seriously, thank you for tonight. For all of it.” He said softly.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. It’s the least I can do after being a huge bitch to you for nothing.”

“It’s not because you’re trying to make things up to me. It’s because you’re a nice person.” He said and you smiled a bit and glanced away, “Hey, you are.”

“After everything I’ve done to you and how I’ve treated you, you believe that?”

“I do. I also believe in second chances.”

“Hopefully not with cheating exes…” you added with a timid smirk and he grinned.

“Yeah, definitely not.” He said, gaze still locked on yours. You felt this tension rising between you, it was all of the good things mixed with all the past irritations and it was making your brain cloudy. “Y/N?”

“Hmmm?”

“How mad would you be if I tried to kiss you right now?” He asked and you couldn’t tell if he was kidding around or being sincere.

“Ummm…I don’t…know.” You got out nervously, “Let’s just get to bed.” You said and he nodded, “Goodnight, Harry.”

“Good night.” He responded and you hurried off to your bedroom. You also washed off your body and got ready for bed and as you finally settled in your phone pinged with a text message.

Harry Styles:

How do I turn off the light?

You smiled and got out of bed and went over to find him already cuddled up on the couch and he glanced over at you.

“Sorry couldn’t find the switch.”

“It’s on this remote.” You said reaching for it on the coffee table.

“Oh, fancy.”

“Right!” You grinned and handed it over. “You can change the settings too if you don’t want it pitch black.” You said and he nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” You said and started walking off before stopped at the entrance of the hallway. You went back and leaned over him before kissing his cheek gently. His eyes fluttered shut and he smiled for a second before you pulled back. “Sorry.” You whispered.

“That’s alright.” He assured you and you but you r lip nervously before hurrying back down the hall. You closed the door and leaned back on it with a pounding heart and a smile on your face. You were so happy you have given him a chance tonight.

#harry styles #writing #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #harry x you #you x Harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles x you #harry styles reader insert #harry styles reader insert fanfic #harry styles enemies to lovers #harry styles comfort #harry styles writer #Harry styles fic #0nlythrowharrybeaux

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ghouljams · 2 months

Note

moooooore Professor Ghost!!!! Pleaaaaaase

Ghost has many problems, he's not social, he doesn't like most of his department, but most recently(most importantly) he is being plagued by an anthropology professor who seems to have no idea what she's doing(she does).

Love makes, or attempts to make, eye contact with Ghost while flipping through slides of penis sculptures and graffiti while she lectures about genitalia and historic significance. Ghost pointedly does not look at her. He's not a man that could ever be considered shy but this chick is intense, she's actually insane.

"What do you think Professor Riley?" She asks, loud enough to turn every eye in the lecture hall his way, "Are we as obsessed with dicks as the Greeks?"

"Maybe you are," He grumbles to himself, holding up the most recent philosophical text he'd pulled for her, "Just dropping off." Really he'd care less about her if she didn't look so damn genuine in her excitement to receive more books from him. She came to his office hours yesterday and actually had questions about morality and ethics. Of course she also sat on the edge of his desk and crowded his work space, and he'd stared at her thighs for a minute too long before she'd asked if she was bothering him. (He kicked her out after that)

Maybe some of her insanity is rubbing off on him, he's getting delusions of wedding bells, imagining white dresses and writing vows in the margins of his notebooks. Christ he doesn't even talk to this woman. Flirting he can do, but she is showing genuine interest in his interest and that is much harder to deal with. Not to mention they're always being watched and Ghost doesn't want to have to deal with someone reporting him for harassing the anthro department's darling if she's just messing with him.

The real problem is when she marches into his class to ask about a paper one of her students submitted, looking frustrated and not even bothering to flirt. Just shows him the paper, asks a few questions and leans close while Ghost explains which philosophical school the student is drawing from. His hand settled on the small of her back to give her room to watch where he's marking. "There's the problem," He tells her, too focused on his work to truly appreciate the way she's pressed against him, "They're mixing Simone de Beauvoir's notions on sexuality with Freud."

Love makes a face, "I hate Freud."

Ghost hums and marks the paper, "Everyone does." He jots down a few notes in the margins and pushes the paper back to her without thinking, "Should be alright now, run along love." Turns back to class and doesn't realize that she's still standing there staring at him, smiling wide and cuddled close. He rubs his thumb against her back instinctively before he realizes where his hand is and takes a step away from her. "You can go," He reminds her, not looking at her.

"Kay," She purrs, gathering her student's paper and tossing a "bye Simon," over her shoulder. Again he wonders if she has some sort of ownership to his name that he wasn't aware of, the shiver hearing it sends down his spine is alien to him.

Both of their classes are buzzing trying to figure out what's going on between the two of them. People have photos of Love pressed against Ghost's side, him leaning into her to speak low, red circles around the hand on her back. Ghost absolutely does not think about helping her grade essays the rest of the day, doesn't think about how warm she'd been or how soft, doesn't think about what it would be like to discuss human nature with her. He absolutely doesn't look over the notes she'd slipped into the books she'd returned and think about her words like they might be his new gospel.

#x oc #simon ghost riley #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley x oc #ghost x oc #f!oc #oc: love #professor!ghost

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lxndonorris · 10 months

Text

One last time - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut warnings: attempt of oral sex, angry sex, swearing, you're having a special goodbye to Charles' Monaco suit x word count: 3600+ note: thank you for anyone voting, hope ya'll like this!

It's two days after this season's Monaco GP when you find yourself in Charles' apartment in Monaco. The conditions weren't optimal, and some people say, the Monaco curse struck again. Even though, it has been a special weekend for the whole of F1, and most importantly, for your boyfriend Charles. It's his home race, one of his favorite tracks and the whole atmosphere just hits differently. This year, he made sure to stun the whole motorsport world when he wore a special suit. Wearing a red and white suit, the colors of the Monegasque flag, filled his heart with pride, but also, made him look even better than usual.

Charles was so happy wearing it, and sadly, he wasn't able to get a podium wearing it. Imagining him, soaked in champagne, happy as ever, is th eonly thing that's left. However, after the events in Italy, he decided to do something for the people affected, and that's why, he organized an auction, with all the money earned going to people in need. Right now, you're sitting on the sofa in the living room, with Charles preparing everything to take some pictures of his racing gear. The gorgeous suit is lying on a table nearby, including the shoes and gloves. While he is inside the bedroom, gathering some more things, and looking for something to wear, you make your way toward the table, having a look at his suit up close.

"So pretty." You mumble quietly, and as soon as you look closer, your thoughts are drawn back to Saturday, when Charles qualified third. Reaching out, you feel the soft fabric with your hands, your fingertips barely brushing over the sleeves, then the chest, tracing Charles' name carefully. Sinking deeper into this memory, you close your eyes, focusing on nothing besides that certain feeling. A feeling of joy, pure excitement, and pleasure running through your veins. Taking a deep breath, you take in the faint scent of Charles clinging to every fiber of this suit. With your hands still running across the suit, you embrace this moment, as everything around you goes numb.

You're back inside the paddock, qualifying just ended and you find yourself inside a press conference. Hearing journalists mumbling and the clicking of cameras, you open your eyes and see your boyfriend Charles sitting on a sofa right next to his rival Max. He is wearing his white suit and a matching cap, with a enormous bright smile. His hands are resting on his thighs, and even though he's playing it cool, you can tell that all of him is as excited as ever. Then, Charles turns his head, and his eyes meet yours. Blushing heavily, you smile, trying your best to not draw too much attention to yourself. Charles, on the other hand, is way more bold. He keeps eye contact, licks his lips, and runs both of his hands across his chest, further down, making sure to briefly touch himself before resting his hands again on his thighs.

Your eyes follow his every move closely, and you know right away that he is in the mood. His whole body is screaming, craving a loving touch. He would always react that way when his body is flushed with adrenaline and excitement. Charles enjoys every moment of this, with a faint fire burning inside his beautiful eyes. All of this won't stop you from blushing. Luckily, all attention is on Max, who's answering questions while giggling to himself. Slowly, you regain your composure and lick your lips as well, however, you know how much he gets turned on by this. Challenged, he lifts his chin slightly, giving you a knowing look.

Just then, the whole crowd laughs at a joke, and this concludes the conference. As everyone is running about, Charles approaches you right away, leaning in to whisper into your ear. "I can't wait any longer." He suppresses a soft moan, and briefly grinds his hips on yours, showing you the desire building up inside him. As shivers run down your spine, you mirror him. "After you, Charles." You breathe against his neck and he separates himself from you just enough to smirk at you. He takes your hand firmly and drags you out of the room. The team is about to meet in half an hour, and he wants you, he craves you, and he's letting you know.

Together, you make your way toward his motorhome, through the whole paddock. Most people are too busy to notice him breathing heavily, and a fiery determination in his eyes. You don't mind him acting that way, quite the opposite. Charles taking charge turns you on. You enter his motorhome right after him and close the door. He lets go of your hand and takes a few steps into the center of the room. You, standing there, take another long look at him wearing that beautiful white suit. He takes off his cap, puts it down, and runs a hand through his messy, sweaty hair before he turns around facing you directly.

"Fuck, I'm hard right now." He grunts and strokes himself, his chest through the suit. You can tell his whole body, all of his muscles are tensing harshly, which makes it even harder for you to think straight. Carefully, you approach him, a playful grin forming on your lips. "Is there anything you want me to do for you?" You say, reaching for his firm chest, placing a hand right at his pecs. He lowers his gaze, following every little move of your hand, while you start to draw circles all over his chest. It feels sensational. You feel all of his muscles tense more and more. Charles' body is filling every inch of the suit, his strong arms, his firm chest, and his beautiful thighs. Then, he lifts his head, and your eyes meet again. "I've got something in mind," Charles growls deeply, his voice rough and husky. He places both of his hands at your waist, pulling you into a hot, passionate kiss. Steadying yourself against his strong, chest, you keep stroking him firmly.

"Mhmm." Charles purrs into your mouth, his hands are now wandering along your waist to the small of your back, stroking you in return. You embrace his warm lips on your own, and kiss him back, once then twice. That's when his familiar scent reaches your nostrils, invading your mind, and your thoughts instantly. This sends tangible shivers down your spine again, much to Charles' amusement. "This feels so good." You breathe into him. He moans softly, and to tease him a little more, you run your hands down his chest, his abs, until one of them finds its way down to his crotch. You feel his excitement bulging inside his gear, and once you brush over him, he chuckles. "Fuck." Charles grunts again and separates himself once more. "I cannot wait anymore." He licks his lips and reaches for your hand still on his crotch, and both of your hands grind on him now.

"Then what are we waiting for?" You smirk and reach for his neck, unbuttoning the collar of his suit. Before you reach for the hidden zipper, you stroke his chest once again, slowly, just to his waist. Charles leans his head back, letting out a low groan. "Amaziiiiing." His voice is even rougher than before, causing you to shudder. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" You pat his pecs gently, and he lowers his head, meeting your gaze right away. "I was waiting for this since I got out of that car." He growls, his hands now firmly on your butt, pulling you into him again. Giggling, you steady yourself against his chest again, taking in his scent even more. His cologne is strong yet gentle enough to not be too much. Getting a little overwhelmed, you close your eyes to regain a firm stance.

"Fuck." You moan now, and you don't even notice him slowly leading you toward an empty wall. However, before your back reaches it, you turn him around, so he's standing with his back to the wall. "Not so fast." You hiss, causing him to smirk approvingly. With your hands still on his chest, you slowly reach for the zipper, with his eyes following your hands closely. "You don't mind, do you?" You say, slowly unzipping his suit. Charles takes a deep breath, one hand firmly on his dick, the other on your waist, trying to hold you in place. He rests his back against the wall, embracing its welcomed support. "Mhmm." You're purring now, and as soon as the upper half of the suit is unzipped, you slide inside it with one of your hands.

You feel him much better now, all of his muscles are bulging through the thin fabric of the fireproofs, just as his nipples are piercing through it. Charles embraces your hand on his chest, moaning slightly once your fingers brush over his sensitive nipples. Knowing his nipples are his sensitive spots, you play with them for a little while longer, making it even harder for Charles to stay focused. "Oh, fuck. So good." He holds back but a quick groan escapes his mouth, giving you goosebumps. As he tries to concentrate, your eyes wander down his beautiful chest, enjoying the sight of all of him craving you more and more.

Just then, you notice his hand grabbing the visible outline of his length firmly, grinding on himself with the palm of his hand. "That's mine." You say, grabbing his wrist to remove his hand. Reluctantly, he lets go of himself, just for you to take his place. "Fiiiiine." Charles grunts, and he looks at you, that burning flame getting even more intense. With both of your hands stroking him lovingly, you notice him getting even more and more into it. "All..most." He breathes. "That's right." You smirk, and he bites his lower lip, holding back another moan. "Fuck." He grunts more angrily, and his hands find their way back to your waist, making sure you're not going anywhere. Removing your hands from him for a second you run a hand through your hair. "You look as beautiful as ever," Charles says suddenly, his voice so soft yet it can't hide his desire for you.

"Likewise." You say, placing a hand at his neck, tracing his jawline with your thumb, enjoying the light stubble at his chin. Then, while keeping eye contact, you start unwrapping him, opening his suit to expose his fireproofs. Together, you help him get out of the upper half of the suit, one arm at a time, and at the sight of his tight underwear, you gasp quietly. Instantly, your eyes wander down to his chest again, loving the sight of his visible nipples, abs, and pecs. You've seen him like this a lot, but white fireproofs just hit differently. Unable to resist, you stroke him again, and all of his muscles react to your slightest touch. His whole body is slowly edging him on, while you keep touching him firmly, your hands encompassing his whole upper body.

Charles moans multiple times, before he places a hand on your chin, gently lifting your face to meet his own. "You're enjoying that, aren't you." He buzzes, with his chest vibrating. "Oh yeah." You breathe deeply, and he leans into you, kissing you passionately. While you keep stroking him, he strokes the small of your back, making both of you purr in unison. Just then, he leans back again, holding back a long groan. "Pleasee." Charles says quietly. "I can't take it anymore." You lick your lips in anticipation and kiss him one last time, before you slowly get on your knees, still stroking his firm chest. Effortlessly, you manage to pull his shirt out of the suit, and instinctively, he grabs it, exposing his bare skin.

You place a few kisses all around his navel, his abs before you follow his treasure trail further down his body. You're now facing a huge tent formed inside his pants, and you lick your lips in anticipation. Teasingly, you let two fingers slip inside his suit, playing with its waistband before you attempt to pull it down. Just then, someone is knocking on the door. "Shh" Charles hisses. "Be quiet." He runs a hand through your hair. "Charles, we need to talk." You've heard that voice before, it is someone of the Ferrari crew. "Can we talk later?" Charles says, trying desperately to hold back more moans. "I just need to inform you, you've got a penalty." The voice says, and both of you are stunned.

"What?" Charles says angrily and walks toward the door while you get up from the floor. They talk for a few seconds, something about Charles impeding another driver. "Fuck." Charles grunts loudly. "I know. We will handle that." The guy says. "We'll give you another twenty minutes to calm down, okay?" Charles nods in agreement and closes the door. Now he's standing there, running a hand across his face and through his hair, holding his forehead while the other is on his hips. "Are you okay?" You say, and at first, he doesn't reply. But then, he just nods. "What's done is done." He turns his face and your eyes meet again, the fire is burning even brighter now, an angrier, possessive flame, and you can feel a sudden shift in his demeanor.

"I need you, now," Charles growls lowly, and walks towards you. "Do you want me, too?" He asks, and the way he looks at you sends shivers down your whole body. "I need you so much." You smirk, and he mirrors you instantly. This time, things are different, however. Charles is going in, grabbing your waist, and pulling you into another passionate kiss. While you steady yourself against his chest again, you feel his hands encompass all of your body, until they reach your boobs. The way he touches you feels you, gives you goosebumps right away. "Change of plan." He growls and separates himself. Charles takes a step back and you watch him bending down, untying his white shoes.

Even though you enjoy the sight of him looking up at you, he's way too quick. In a mere second, he pushes his shoes aside with his foot, and he takes several deep breaths. "I'm so hard for you." He grabs himself firmly, and while he moves his hand up and down his length, you smirk. "Then come get it then." You challenge him, causing his eyes to burn even brighter. Effortlessly, takes his whole suit off, and you watch it drop to the floor. Now, just wearing his fireproofs, he approaches you again, with his dick imprinting visibly through his underwear. You embrace each other's body right away. Kissing, and touching each other, you make your way toward the huge sofa, and with a playful nudge, he pushes you down onto it, the soft cushions now at your back.

Charles towers over you, looking down at your whole body while running one hand through his hair, the other mindlessly stroking his own chest again and again. His hand runs further down his body back to his length, where it stays for a while. "Come on." You motion for him to come closer, and with a low growl, he climbs on top of you. You're lying down, feeling his body grinding on yours, his length against your thighs. Charles' face is now hovering over yours. "Fuuuck." He exhales, all of that teasing already showing its effect. Teasingly, you use your leg to touch his dick, causing his whole body to get even stiffer.

Charles then comes back to his senses, as he bends down, kissing you multiple times, before making his way down your body. He places kisses all over your neck, your collarbone, and even further down your body. Carefully, he lifts your shirt, touching your chest, and your boobs until his fingers reach your navel, tickling you teasingly. "Charles." You moan softly, and you give in to him. Closing your eyes, you take in his loving touch, his beautiful scent, all of him. Moving your hips rhythmically, you don't even notice him unbuttoning your jeans, and before you know it, Charles pulls them down, including your panties.

"That's good." He groans, touching you teasingly, before climbs back on top of you. You open your eyes, watching him watch you. For a second, nothing moves, until you feel him pulling his underwear down as well. "I want youuu." You breathe deeply, and at that moment, you feel him sliding into you. The most sensational feeling. You love the feeling of his length entering your body and the noise he makes suppressing another moan. Most of the time, he would start slowly, but right now, Charles instantly increases the intensity and pace of his forceful thrusts. "Fuuck, you're so good." He grunts. "Mhmmm." You moan breathlessly, and it takes a while, but you manage to adjust to his rhythm.

You're moving as one now, rhythmically, and the room is filled with your moans, groans, and grunts. After all of that teasing beforehand, it doesn't take too long for the two of you to reach your limits. With one final harsh thrust, all of him goes stiff and rigid, and he lets out a long moan. At the same time, you climax as well, leaning your head back, giving in to him completely.

"It feels good, doesn't it." A voice rings through your mind, slowly pulling you out of your daydream. Shaking your head, you try to adjust your vision. Blinking a few times, you're back in your living room, your hand still on the racing suit, you turn your head to spot Charles standing next to you, wearing a shy smile on his lips. "it does." You say, looking back down, feeling the fabric with your fingertips, still tracing the outlines of his name. Charles does the same, following your fingers closely. "What were you thinking of?" He says suddenly, making you blush. "What?" You say, looking at him again.

"I've been calling your name for minutes now, didn't you hear me?" He chuckles, and you try to avoid his burning gaze, to hide your red face. For a minute, you stand next to each other, before you turn to face him. "I was thinking about how good you look in this." You say, and he raises both of his eyebrows. Then, his face softens. "Were you thinking about Saturday?" Charles smirks knowingly, but this time, you don't blush. Nodding slowly, you turn your attention back to the suit. "Would you….would you put it on again?" You say suddenly, catching him off-guard. "The suit? Eh, now?" Charles blushes now and turns his face to the suit as well. "One last time." You say, placing a hand on his chest, stroking him lovingly.

At first, he's seemingly lost in his thoughts as well, but then, he runs a hand through his nicely done hair. "Okay. Just for you." Charles smiles warmly, making you smile. Without hesitation, he takes his tight shirt off, exposing his beautiful muscles. Tilting your head slowly in disbelief, you look at him. "What?" He smirks, and unable to resist, you look down at his firm chest. "You're an idiot." You giggle. "You love me, shut up." Charles snickers and follows your gaze, but then, he pulls his pants down as well, until his underwear is all that's left. Immediately, you think about your daydream, and he looks even better now. He strikes a little pose, winks, and grabs the suit, unzipping it easily.

You watch him put the suit on, one leg at a time, his thighs filling the fabric fully. "Gorgeous." Biting your lower lip, you try to hide a mischievous smirk. Charles, on the other hand, is keeping eye contact, making sure you watch him. Now, the sleeves are hanging down his side, and you approach him, placing a hand on his bare chest. As soon as your finger touches him, his skin flushes with color. You follow the outlines of his abs, around his navel, and up to his pecs to his nipples. "It feels so good." Charles purrs happily, enjoying every part of it. With a little help from you, his big arms slide into the sleeves. Looking at him, you immediately get turned on again, and he's fully aware of it.

You place your hand on his chest again, stroking him one last time through his suit, before you close it. "Mhmm," Charles growls and tilts his head. "Happy now?" He smirks, placing his hand on his hips. Unable to fathom the essence of his beauty, you cannot help yourself but take it all in. Charles wearing his racing gear is always something special, but this suit hits differently. The fabric is flattering all of him, like a second skin. It's tight yet flexible, adjusting to his beautiful body perfectly. To tease you some more, Charles starts to stroke himself now, his chest, his stomach, and even further down to his thighs. He makes sure to let a hand brush over his length, again growing inside this suit.

"Oh fuck, you know it, Charles." You look right into his eyes, and approach him, kissing him lovingly. Together, you move around the room carefully, his body grinding on yours, and you feel yourself getting back into that moment. The faint of his cologne swirls around your nose, giving you goosebumps. "Mhmm." You breathe into him, making him moan quietly. Touching him, feeling his chest, you can tell that he's feeling it too. He must be.

Just then, he stops. "As mucha s I love this." He growls, his voice breaking slightly. "The camera team is arriving shortly," Charles says, caressing your cheek with his thumb. "Too bad." You say, stroking his chest again. Thank you, though." Kissing him again, you help him change into his other clothes, waiting for the team to arrive.

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