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kazbrekkerscrutches · 1 year

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Aemond Targaryen - Love of My Life

Warnings: Aegon obviously, slight mention of alcohol, allusions to sexual harassment and violence, allusions to nightmare and self inflicted wounds OTHERWISE FLUFF FLUFF AND FLUFF

Words: 2.0k

SHE/HER PRONOUNS // 3rd PERSON VIEW

Summary: Aemond Targaryen didn’t seem like the loveliest person in Westeros but with Y/N, he would do anything to keep his betrothed happy and safe. He was the happiest with her, before and after marrying her.

**Valyrian translation after the imagine, below the --- line. Hope you enjoy and let me know your thoughts.**

Aemond Targaryen wasn’t kind to everyone. Especially to the ones who crossed him or even annoyed him.

Aemond Targaryen was only kind to a few people, including Y/N. She meant everything to the silver haired prince.

They both had met each other as children, as they both grew up in King’s Landing. Aemond had seen her for the first time reading a book in the castle’s library. As a child, it was Aemond’s peaceful place and it quickly became theirs. They would often meet after dinner, spend the night reading and talking about plenty of things. He was himself when he was with her. He loved the way she liked him as a person, not as a prince or as an arse. He loved the way she would tell him about everything, only because she trusted him. She would come to him if something was wrong and even as children, they would never lie to each other.

Many years of harmony passed until Aemond lost his eye. He became more distant even though Y/N wanted to be there for him. He wouldn’t let anyone in, at least he tried to let her in, but it was terrifying for him. Her seeing him so destroyed, tainted, as a monster. Yet Y/N did not see him as all those things, she came to his bedroom every so often, talk like they were children again and he would lose himself in her. He would become a child again, a happy one, a kind one. He would get drunk on the sound of her laughter, and he knew that he only wanted her in his life.

Two years after his eye was gone, his mother started to propose women to him, to get him to choose one of them. To make them his betrothed, but he only wanted her. He only wanted Y/N.

“Mother, I will not marry any of those girls.” He dropped on the Queen.

“And why is that, Aemond?” Because I only want Y/N, mother. I want her to be my wife. He urged to say it. He had to. And he did.

“I want to marry lady Y/N.”

His mother looked at him. He looked back at her, all seriousness in his eye. She nodded and walked away. The day after, his mother told him what he could marry her.

He was the happiest man in all Westeros.

The minute she had stepped into his room for their daily encounter, he ran to her and pulled her into his arms.

He spun her around in the air and she giggled loudly. His hands were spalled on her waist and hers tangled in his long hair.

He finally set her down on the ground, the height difference making its way back.

“What have you eaten to make you this happy, my dear Aemond? Have you had a new saddle for Vaghar or something?” She walked deeper into his room to sit on the velvet seat, her beautiful dress promoting her beautiful body.

“I have wonderful news. But I need you to hear me first, no talking.” She nodded as he approached her, kneeling before her.

She looked at him with big innocent eyes.

“We have known each other since we were children, and I have loved every single moment with you, my lady. Tis the day where I am asking you, with my family blessing, to marry me. I have loved you since I saw you in the library. When this,” he said, touching his patched eye, “happened, I closed myself to everyone but you did not let me shut you out. You stayed and I realised then that all I wanted, in my whole existence, was you. I only want you; you are the only one for me. I love you, and I’ll never stop. I swear on the gods. I love you. Would you do me the honor of becoming mine forever?” He exhaled softly; his hands went to grab a small box from his lapel.

He opened the small box before the woman he loved. Her gaze shifted from his face to the beautiful ring, impaled with a blue sapphire decorating it.

“Aemond… I-I…” She was speechless. The expression on her face was unreadable.

He tried to pull away, thinking he made a fool of himself but she pulled his face to meet hers halfway. Their lips joined into sweet harmony and he pulled himself even more into her. His hands roamed on her body, finding their way to the low of her back, her legs spreading to let Aemond get closer.

She pulled away from his lips, her hands on his strong face.

“Yes, I’ll marry you, Aemond. I’d marry you today, I’d have married you if we were children and I’d marry you again any day. I love you, Aemond Targaryen, I always have and I always will.”

His eye was glassy, a huge grin on his face appeared. He pulled one of his hands away, removing the ring from its box and placing around her ring finger. It was perfect.

She smiled so brightly, Aemond kissed her again. He was in heaven and he will always be if he’s with her.

Their wedding happened only weeks after the proposal and Aemond was the happiest with her. She was his and it was everything he ever dreamed of.

One night, a couple of years after their union, she was known as the untouchable wife. Yet someone in his family did not respect the “untouchable” aspect.

She was at a celebration, as were all of Aemond’s family. Music was filling up the room, the banquet was filled with too many people to count. But she could feel the presence of her dear husband behind her. They were both sitting at the main table, he grabbed her hand that landed on her thigh and kissed it, intertwining his fingers as well.

He pulled away, standing up, telling her he’ll be right back. Before he could pull back, she told him that she will go up directly to their room, it was late and she was tired. He nodded, offered her a sweet smile, and kissed her forehead sweetly.

As she made her way up, she was met with Aegon, his brother. Aegon was known for his sense, or his lack of sense, for the word “no”.

“Hello, wife. How dare you look so fine this evening!” He reeked of wine and many other beverages.

“Aegon, I am not your wife. Please go back to the venue, I’m sure there’s more women interested in you.” I desperately wanted him to go away.

“Mhm, must you have mistaken me, lady Y/N, yet I don’t like that attitude of yours.” He suddenly gripped her wrist tightly, and she tried to get out of his reach.

“Let go Aegon. Let. Me. Go. Now.” She ordered yet he pulled her flush to his chest and she hated every second of it. He breathed her in, and she pulled even harder to get out of his reach. He gripped her waist and before she knew it, she was pinned to a wall with both of her hands pressed behind her back, hitting the brick wall.

As he pressed himself even closer to her, she punched him between his legs and slapped him down on the ground before running away to her chambers.

Time passed before Aemond returned to their room. Y/N was asleep when he came into the room. Her peaceful form decorating the bed, her hair draping the pillow. He reached to her side, sitting besides her. He placed a sweet kiss on her forehead before reaching his side of the bed.

They were both sleeping in no time before Y/N was stirring up in her sleep. Aemond, like the light sleeper that he is, woke up in a second. She was whimpering in her sleep, her head snapping from sides to sides. She was clawing at her wrist, which Aemond tried to get her to stop.

“Jorrāelagon, wake up. Come on”, he clasped lightly at the hand that was clawing the other. “Y/N, wake up, come on, wake up.” He shook her slightly, sitting up in the bed.

She woke up and jolted up with small cry, she tried to pull away from him, as if he had hurt her.

“It’s alright, issa jorrāelagon, you’re alright. You're safe.” She realised that it wasn’t Aegon. It was only him. Only Aemond, the boy who she had loved for so long.

She melted into sobs when he pulled her in his arms, her legs pulled over his, one arm around her waist and the other one cradling her head. Her head and heavy sobs laid on his chest, his face resting by her head.

“Did you have a nightmare, dōna mirre?” She nodded weakly. Her sobs resuming. He praised her with sweet word in her ear, he cradled her in his arms, assuring her that she was safe.

Her sobs calmed down and she found peace in his heartbeat.

He looked down at the sight of her wife, he saddens at her gaze, his heart breaking because something is troubling her.

The hand that was cradling her head softly pulled at the wrist she was hurting in her sleep. He saw, even in the dim darkness, that there were marks, not of her nails, but of a tight embrace.

“Who did this to you, my love? When did this happen?” He questioned her softly, not wanting to startle her.

“I don’t want you to be mad.” She responded lightly.

He pulled her chin, making her look up at him.

“Love, I won’t be mad, I promise. I just want to know the truth.” He brushed her hair out of her face.

“It was Aegon. He was drunk, like always, but I was walking up to go to our room and he called me his wife, and he pulled my wrist,” She sniffled, Aemond felt her breath accelerate.

“Breathe my love, take your time.” He purred. Aemond was boiling on the inside but he could never be harsh on her.

“He pushed me to the wall, started to press himself against me, and I punched him away. I ran as fast as I could. I thought he was going to run after me, Aemond, I was so scared.” She truthfully told Aemond, her tears seeping his night shirt.

“Oh, dōna mirre, I’m sorry he’s done this to you. I’ll handle him in the morning, and I promise you he won’t ever touch you again, nobody will.” He caressed her hair, calming her down. He kissed the palm of her hand, trailing kisses down to her inflamed wrist. She calmed down, leaning into his touch.

Aemond pulled her down with him, to lay together in the bed.

“Everything is going to be just fine, darling. Rest in my arms, you’re safe.”

She turned to be faced with his chest. She looked up to his figure, some strands of glittery hair falling on his face.

“I love you, valzȳrys. Thank you for always being here for me.”

“No need to thank me, that’s what I’m here for. I love you." He whispered in her ear, pulling her against him, kissing her forehead and the rest of her face sweetly. She fell asleep in his arms, as she always did.

He’d deal with Aegon in the morning, and everything will be alright.

She’ll be alright. She was with Aemond after all.

“Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson.” He pressed one last kiss on the ring that laid upon his wife’s finger and went into a peaceful sleep.

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I hope you like this imagine, I had a pleasure writing this. Here are the traduction in english for the Valyrian words.

Jorrāelagon: Love

issa jorrāelagon: my love

dōna mirre: sweet thing

valzȳrys: husband

Ao sagon se jorrāelagon hen issa glaeson: You are the love of my life

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x you #hotd aemond #aemond imagine #aemond targaryen imagine #prince aemond #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #hotd imagine

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joannasteez · 4 months

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stay, please

pairing: roman reigns x blackreader warning: ANGST.. smut . explicit descriptions! so minors please do not interact! word count: 10k ... now that we found love, what are we gonna do, with it? ...

all that time ago, when you'd first met him, your acknowledgement of roman was flimsy, a shell of nothing, but the simple words and pretty smiles made him run warm all the same. "my tribal chief", you'd say, airy and teasing, void of awe. he was big and strong, hubris making him this mountain of a man, but he was just that, nothing more than a man, and you'd seen enough men to know that they did not differ much. they groaned in time with their irritations, made their problems yours. lusted wild and unapologetically. they demanded everything, in their time, in their way, and gave what little that they wanted. and roman reigns, the tribal chief, was no different.

his eyes, suggestive and sharp, had taken to the fit of your ring gear easily. the shaping of the fabrics in places and in others, the lack thereof, pulling his interest till his fixations melted something warm and devious into your skin. he'd approach you wolf like, this stalking pace as if to circle prey. grinning amused. "i think you can do better than that for me. a little more enthusiasm".

and he was a tower then, still is now, strides long, full of leisure. your eyes peered from under the fan of your lashes, indulging the domineer of his presence with the coyness of good prey. you'd done well to make the game, the chase, or whatever this was for him, at least somewhat entertaining if not completely so.

you'd indulged. leaned into the mass of him, one small step forward after another till the air had no choice but to be shared between the both of you. a finger lifting to trace faint over the lettering of his shirt. and it'd taken everything not to fall then, not to give in to the pull of him, like some small wayward celestial object fighting against the orbit of a great star. the heady note of his smell, the strong comfort of his warmth, the height of him, the sure soft ways his eyes drifted over you, like he'd just known without complete expression of words or deeds that you were his.

your touch had turned more firm then, from one finger to your palm, slipping down till it played at his abs. and a grin had curled, amused now too, feeling the rushing in his blood. "i can be a whole lot better for you, you gotta earn that though".

but your words, so teasing and strong then, built firm and made off your tongue to last, were not as reliable as you'd thought they'd be, for the gravity of him was this overwhelming thing. and before the rush of it could settle, before the excitement of lust could wane, you found yourself with him at every corner or surface available. your legs wrapped in his, your lips wet and your tongue tangled, pushing and licking to taste him. your breaths caught forever, short and desperate as they fought to be full. he felt good and the heat of him melted the worry in your bones, until it didn't.

until the fun of it became dense, so much so that it was unbearable. his touch becoming more nailed into the skin of you, and his words fixing quiet, each more vulnerable than the ones before them. these heavy sinking whispers in the night, your bodies laying sated and damp, thighs aching and your blood rushing smooth just after release. arousal still sticky between your legs where his hands and mouth had been. from him came these words, forming to sound like something similar to forever. but by then it was too late, to stop, to take back, to slip away from under him.

and in the midst of fighting and failing to keep away from his body, and his quiet bed time passions, creatives of the smackdown brand championed the idea of a more feminine edge to the bloodline. someone who could rough and tough it, take a bump and bounce back for more. someone who could smile and charm and manipulate. someone who could, in the blink of an eye turn vicious if need be. a character that had draw, that could have the crowd eating from their palm. and though yes, roman was not starved of womanly support by way of the viewership, the faction was in sore need still of a lighter touch. something, or rather someone less naturally brutish, that did not wreak of ego or that larger than life self importance. and so, from a charismatic mid-carder, to the upper echelon, you rose and dominated as an entity connected to the infamous crew.

the full silver of your ring gear slowly altered to accommodate the overwhelming red and black, his colors, till there was a more even mix. and it all spoke without words, the black and red these leading lines, binding you to the one called the tribal chief.

a botched spot in the ring kept you away for some time. a few months of recovery, the perfect amount of time to go cold turkey from roman.

and though he called and texted and face timed, his constant travels and your inconsistencies left him hallow. an emptiness that soon would leave his ego to pulse with a bruising pain. he thought, in the midst of all those months of your recovery, that it was just the tingling in his fingers that he needed gone, these simple bouts of lust that could be easily remedied. but it was more than that it seemed. aches in his chest and this drawing pull in his skin. a helpless sort of longing.

he wrestled harder in those months, brutal, bordering relentless. when you wouldn't answer at all, or would only answer with few words, he pushed the fire of his anger, drove it through muscle and nerve, about the bones that built him till it was all he could feel.

why the fuck were you dodging him?

and all that fire, that white hot anger, attempting to purge his bones of you, flared and burst wild till it could no longer. flared to consume him till it proved shallow and here you were, under his eyes again. the silver-red-black of your ring gear calling his fingers to run against it, the tips where his nerves live itching to flex and curl into your skin. the curve in there where your hip dips, the muscles in him remembering well as the feelings there form back to life with excitement.

you look as good as you did pre-injury. maybe even a little better.

he makes himself known, the tone of him rich, stunning. something dark amidst the allure. you'd forgotten how well it arrested you.

"hows your arm?"

"bendable, so it's fine".

you do little to acknowledge him, afraid of what even a little eye contact can do to the strength of already weak resolve, but you move your newly healed arm about rather flimsily, showing him just enough so he can go about his business.

the carpet ruffles with his every step. closer and closer he gets. your heart knocking into your chest. "recovery must've been good, should've been", his breath warm and feathering along your neck. your fingers moving with a slight shake as you make to clean an already clean vanity. "had to have been", his fingers taking a small trace over your shoulders to hold you there, "cause i barely heard a thing from you". his thumbs sooth into the fabric, soft and remembering.

your breath hitches, the tip of his nose running small at the line of your neck. and none of those months of recovery mean anything in the slightest, save for the healing of your arm. your pulse quickens and beats harsh, same as it did before, skin taking to a slight tremble as the warmth of him surrounds you here. and your own fingers, working to burrow into the hard shape of the vanity, itch to touch him too, though something nags at you to fight against him. to war with the resolute way his touch fastens to your body.

"i didn't realize you were my keeper".

he sighs, slightly annoyed by the way your words fight to push against his own, but it doesn't stop the straying of his lips along your skin. skimming where they please till they pull in to leave a faint kiss at your pulse. "you've been ignoring me".

"apparently not enough".

he laughs, pulls your hips close till they flush against him, and laughs some more. his mouth parting just at the shell of your ear. "you're not convincing", his fingers flexing, a firm pulling as they make their way to play between your thighs at the fabric covering where they'd itched and feened to be. "not even a little bit".

and how you'd gotten here, falling so fast back into him to be consumed, back into the deft maneuver of his fingers and the heat of his mouth, was not at all lost on you. just as similar as it was not all that lost on him either, to feel your skin and the faint release of your breaths. fighting on his own for months to undo you from him, all for nothing. both affected in full by the other, thirsty and bordering impatient. and when he curls in past the stretchy material to slip against the wet of your slit, your hips move with a mind all their own, seeking a harsher friction.

heat braces your skin, head lulling forward. your hips shifting rigid, fighting to still and losing as they chase the smooth circling of his touch. "roman", breathy. urgent.

"no, no, no, no, no", his free hand firmly at your neck. an upward motion to reveal your eyes again. "you don't run from me, not when you want it this badly". his finger slipping further to sink in knuckle deep. the push in of them lax and patient. a pace he takes to feel you throb for him. with every second, the length of it steeping in the soaked mess of you.

you gather words, a sloppy attempt to fire back at him and it fails as you moan through it. "who said i wanted this or you".

"you know what it is babygirl", the speed of his touch urged on by his ego. his need to prove you wrong. you want him, you want him and he knows it. if not for words then he knows it with how eager your hips grind into his fingers. the slip of your pussy easy and hungry as it pulses. so much so that it resounds into the dead air of the dressing room, the tune of it forcing his hips to rut into you. "you don't want it, you tell me and i stop". he breathes hot and hectic into your skin, into your neck, kissing between takes of air. fingers thick and glistening under harsh fluorescent lights as they curve in to fuck you deep. "c'mon, tell me how much you don't need it, how much you don't need me", eyes brown and blistered. of course you needed him, of fucking course you do how could you not? when he needed you. "c'mon sweetheart, tell me so i can leave". a tear struck the apple of your cheek, a simple roll that told of everything. your skin twitched and your muscles ached, ready to feel the draw out of release, but the cage of your chest rattled, flaming with a need to say something long unspoken.

but to do it, to say it, would be worse than breaking a bone. worse than the raw opening of slit skin. to give in to him, would be the end of it all.

"fuck", a whimper breaking. wrecking the strength of your voice. your hips working to rut against the curl in of his fingers. your head lulls at an angle to sink into his chest. hands free from the vanity as you grab to hold onto him. "keep it there baby, please".

"yeah?", his neck craning to take your lips with his. tongue messy and suckling. and his fingers move with vigor, arm taut and muscle bound, veins striking against his skin. something similar to lightning. "and when you come what do you say?"

your breath catches and the sharp ways of your vision blur. the coil wound up in your core bursting wild at the seams as you rut and drip against the softening thrust of roman's fingers. your lips trembling as words flow hot and feverish. "th-thankyouthankyouthankyou".

even if the body was not made to do so, you could fly high, tumble, knock into, break at, and push over just about anything in ring. it's what made the rise from the mid-card so satisfying. it's what made the star studded rivalries so well anticipated and stunning. women of a particular caliber, head to head, their bodies and their wits and their wills stressed and strained until only one remained. at it's core, the work all by it's lonesome was easy. tiresome yes, but the pursuit of winning, that bright gold belt about the waist, was all a singleminded affair. easy. but the presence of him was, is, a storm. difficult to escape. reckless. ungovernable. and it seemed that the drifting of his eyes to find you and the remnants of his touch could not be undone. like a deep soldering under your skin, at the hard make of your bones.

he lingered, and beyond the shallow 'i don't want you's', the cut of your eyes and that cold far away disposition, something like need teemed, warm and fettered to your fingers, pressing slow into his skin, the fabric of his t-shirt, slipping into his hair. just before the quiet, when ecstasy was it's loudest, he could feel it running into him like nails, 'stay', etching red and raw into his flesh. and then a soothing kiss, more passionate, wordless but tender all the same, 'stay please'.

your inconsistencies were nearly earsplitting. i want him, i won't. i need him, no i don't. it made even the prestige of the women's world championship lackluster.

you'd won, your waist decorated in gold, but the true excitement of such a grand moment could not reach you beyond the loose way liquor paints your tongue. skin racing warm and control undone. the floor moving with this deep hard shudder, bass bleeding out. the air is thick from bodies, from the unintelligible roar of people. but what is clear, beyond the blur that comes for the eyes after chilly shots of espolon, is him. roman smiling in that faithful way that he does, wolf like, suggestive. clever and telling in the way that it so clearer reminds you of how small and good you can be as prey. something for him to take. to hold and guide and pull and pry at till he’s full. but that look of allure is not for you, no he'd done something fucked. he'd gone and found someone else to look at like that, some woman near the edge of the bar too oblivious and taken by the size of him to know that it was all a game.

a game you were losing at. your lips wet from the bits of your next shot that seemed to miss your tongue. you were too loose, too hot, too lethal. it was just barely easy to play the game when it was you, denying him and tugging along that thinly wound string that tethered itself from you to him, but when he made his moves to do the same, it wrecked you well.

tore you asunder. this deep splitting at the heart till you were left raw to the open air.

'fuck him, you're the women's world champion', the espolon steeped so well into you that it speaks. 'say it', persistent. you turn from him, your head lulling as your mouth greets another shot of that smooth tequila taste. 'sayitsayitsayit'

"fuck him".

but is it believable? the harsh bite and break of words as drunk lips form around them, bound to such a severity that only comes with the pain of pain.

the harsh bass nearly breaks your ears and makes your body tremble. you would like to leave, to tear your eyes away from them, from him, but you would also like to stay.

"you play right into his hand when you do that", a mouth near your ear persists above the noise. the well fitted dress of a button up forgotten for something sloppier and indicative of the loose, dancing, club energy. cody rhodes' face just a few ways away from beet red as he holds chilly water in one hand.

and there are crueler things in the world, things that grind against the spirit till it's worn and faint, but nothing pricks against the heart more in this moment than that woman’s fingers lingering against romans. the charm of her smile luring him in as she mouths to him unrecognizable things. "he wants to spite me, let him".

cody snorts, lazily throws his arm about you. "it wouldn't be anything you've never done". and you think maybe you hate the sense of his logic and his friendship. the filterless way he says things. so forthright, so readymade.

"fuck you, wheres the loyalty".

his cheeks pull high into the creasing corner of his baby blue eyes. fully amused. he probably thinks you're a damn joke, and maybe it's true, in the petulant ways you avoid and revert inward.

he hands you the cup of water and you sip it willingly, wishing maybe though that its something else.

"he'll play cat, you'll play mouse, he'll fuck you and hint at what you fear most, you'll run and we'll be right back to where we are now. so what the fuck's up with the preamble".

you shove the cup of water into his chest, picking up one of the many shot glasses that stand still on a tray. the taste of it not so dissimilar to water. he frowns, watching on as you glare into the emptiness of the shot glass. sometimes, in these short moments, when you crave things you aim to kill, he worries.

"didn't realize all my shit was so entertaining". you look angry, sound that way even, but the melodramatic coupling of words tell him you drift more towards a sullen pain than to anger.

"no, entertainment isn't this boring", he quips and you jab your elbow into his stomach. just enough to make him grunt before the break into a fit of little laughs.

but then you set the glass down and turn in to face him, to nuzzle closer into where your forehead meets his collarbone. eyes forming with hints of a glassiness that lend themselves to vulnerability.

roman's eyes take to looking about the club, instinctively, falling against the warmth of your embrace with cody. fire forms in his chest, aches with a burning.

your voice leaves off soft into cody's ear, muffled in the fabric of his shirt. "it won't work. not in any way that matters".

"you don't know that"

"i've been played before. i'm not new to games".

cody rubs soothing into your shoulder, the compassion making you melt in that drunken way that leads to the welling of a tear.

"games aren't made to last, that's why they get played, and why people play them. if it's real then it's real".

"is this what it is now? you don't speak when you see me?"

dead air and his own words, tired in their anger. 'how long can i go, before i break?', but the break came quickly, the silence disrupting him. he rests but not really, stands there idle as if to feign the strength of a stable man but his nerves stir with ill-control. they flip and they twitch, crashing up against the inner parts of him. you won't speak, and your eyes don't meet. and when the job forces your hand, you grow cold in this subtle way. warm still but a biting chill just like at the cusp of spring. and your lips become these masters of brevity. and he wants to say it here —where his blood rushes irate, wrought by adrenaline— that he isn't too far from hating you. your skin, your touch, your voice, your face, the pull of your lips when you smile, all the things that make him lov-

"we work together, i talk to you all the time".

and even in all this, he couldn't not move closer to you. one foot in front the other till he was arms length. "promos and in-ring action aside, y'know what i mean".

you fight your own urges. to meet his eyes, to touch him, to fall beyond the bounds of those drunken whispers from nights passed where you cursed his name. "it should stay like that, professional. it's cleaner this way, safer".

he scoffs. something like a tower now the way he stands over you.

"yeah?", smirk mirthless. "and what, me fucking you out back behind an arena ain't clean? you bendin' over in a dressing room ain't safe enough anymore?" each word slightly louder than the last.

"keep you voice down", you hiss.

"or what?", his eyes sharp and narrowing. scrutiny burned into the brown of them. "everything you do is convenient for you". and his lips spread in that mirthless way again, bordering disgust. "you get scared so you pull away, you feel good again and come runnin' back. you ain't never fit me in for consideration, not once, unless it meant me sticking my dick in you".

and when blood is drawn, words like venom dripping into raw split skin, isn't it only appropriate to do the same? to do him in with the violence he so easily struck with first?

"once upon a time i didn't have to consider you", meeting him with words, cold and mocking. "i paid you fucking dust and when i did acknowledge you, you were grateful for it". vexed and thrilled, you watch the silent ways his rage manifests. the flaring in his nose and the shifting in his jaw. beneath where heaps of muscle lie, just there at his chest, falters this steady beating. a deep plunging of his ego. it makes you smile, nicks pain into your heart just the same. "maybe we should revisit that and stay there, and not be so damn emotional about it".

he recedes into something like pity. "whoever he was before me, he did a number on you".

it's this rupturing that hurts the most. the pain of it, a distant memory long remembered. this great big wound. raw and the skin so tattered still and messily undone. "you don't know me".

"exactly", roman urges. still above it all, wanting to know something. the slightest thing. anything.

you leave, slamming the dressing room door.

it was as if the spite of him, that which that'd already existed —a small, near idle thing, had reared it's head to tear through him again. seemingly more brutal than before. whether cruel or not, whether it worked or not, he'd made the effort, against his better judgement to see you bend. not to break no, but to see something other than the usual push and pull that became the mainstay of whatever this thing was between the two of you. that night at the club—his own go at drawing up some jealousy, an attempt at cracking your little shell of resistance, to see if you even cared, but still he didn't know. not for sure anyways. so here he was, needy, spiteful, and a short ways away from brutal as sweat broke from his brows and a frustrated groan from his lips. hips swinging in lethal, teeth gritting, and the core of him coiling tight.

he couldn't remember her name, no, but she was too similar to pass on. she ran just parallel enough to you that it could work. similar skin tone, the nonchalance, the coy silence of the eyes, sly slim touches that roughed into something harsh—near skin splitting. but when she spoke, the puzzle piece couldn't quite fit. her pitch too bright, not bitty enough. it didn't wreck through him the same, didn't rush in to him or thrum his blood but he couldn't complain about it, not when the chase of his release was so close. just palpable enough to satisfy.

roman took a mild shifting, hiking up a leg to leave the other bent, his foot nailing further into the hotel bed sheets, all to work his hips deeper.

her face ran into the sheets, mascara smudging dark into the clean white. "mhmm- fuck! i-", her hips fluid, rolling against the swing of roman's. words nearly undone, breaths close to finishing. "pleasepleaseplease".

she pulsed about him, hips rocking to chase the burning in her limbs, the harsh twist up of her core. and where he dug into her she fought to keep him there, soaked and clenching but it just barely came close. she hugged him for dear life, fucked on him till she couldn't take him to the hilt anymore. attempted to possess him even, with sultry moans and the allure of whispered begging. everything he liked, everything he wanted but it didn't quite fit. everything lacked by only half of a half step but it all mattered. and it was evident you made the difference.

the lazy trace of your lips, the delirium you took—even in rare bouts of aggression—the burn of your touch like a piercing in his skin. the dulling of your eyes, till they rolled overwhelmed and undone. the shivers in your skin and the submission of your body, the skin and bones of you left for him to form back together.

he missed you, and yes of course he wanted to fuck you, completely break you in that faithful way that he did in times past, where you'd rush in dainty, words like feathers, thankyouthankyouthankyou, but he also wanted to hold you. wanted to mold himself to you till he was unsure of where he ended and you began. he wanted breath stealing kisses that rolled lazy and thick. he wanted to still the shivers in your body, wanted to caress you through the burden of release and even after, he wanted to keep you there. safe in the strength of him.

and it was here, in these thoughts, where he found the feeling. the pulling in his gut strong and subduing, tugging away from the wet mess of her to release. thick ropes against her skin as he groaned.

"fuck......".

your name slipping through. unabashed and clear as day.

roman winces, feels the recoil of it in his flesh. this awkward reversion where his body fights not to cave in on itself out of embarrassment.

why the fuck would he do that?

but she's moving before he can do anything, cleaning herself till she's rid of him. and damn it, why can't he remember her name? his back flopping into the sheets, an arm thrown over his eyes. he's tired and ill feeling, somewhat ashamed.

the woman saunters in, some ways from disgust. such a beautiful man, so obviously successful, and seemingly hung up on a woman who cares less than a fuck about him. thats what she can gather anyways. her fingers helping her slip her clothes back on. she grows curious.

"who is she?"

roman looks to her, realizing just how much she doesn't look like you at all. beautiful but not you.

"what?"

her eyes roll. that small sliver of curiosity done away with as she shuffles to adjust her heels."if your'e gonna finish all over me, the least you can do is remember my name".

she makes for the bedroom door of the luxury suite, leaving roman to fall deeper into his own silence. her voice carries, sweet and mocking.

"your little nda is signed. thanks for making me come".

roman grunts in response. feeling the slight rattle of the slammed door.

from the chill of new york city winter weather, to the warmth of one of the city's many luxurious hotels, came a firm dulling of the nights mixture of cocktails and whatever other light liquor your dear friend cody rhodes had decided was good enough for you. and what a dear friend indeed, always so caring, so righteous and so fucking motherly. his every word soft and urbane — "slow down, take this water, no more of that drink"—and his every look one of knowing and pity, until his glassy blue eyes and lisp-y mouth became resolute, even when in their own drunkenness, going as far as to putting you in a car and shipping you back to where you were now, at the hotel. "you're not even having fun, go sleep", his lips pulling into a gentle pout. his arms a warm embrace till they were gone, and you were ducking sullenly into an SUV.

he was all you could think about.

...whoever he was before me, he did a number on you...

and with so little said, roman had done you in to a silent sort of suffering. this shoddily made shell of something —your heart— playing at nonchalance, completely destroyed. stripped now, naked and fearful of whatever is to follow. the possibility, whether with or without him, the unknown, left you stunned, ill even.

...should you call?... fingers itching to reach, to slip against his contact ...but would he answer?... or would he, and rightfully so, do you the quieted sort of violence you'd done to him, time and time again?... those brutal ways your lips refused to speak, and when they did their words like daggers. your eyes never meeting, and when they came upon him, they bore over him icy and displeasured. like he was a nuisance, or even worse, a stranger. and the desertion of your touch, once upon a time, when the drive of lust and adoration was new in him, seemed that it would never leave. yes, you'd understand, but fuck if it wouldn't hurt, wouldn't pierce the greater parts of you, where strength of the ego and desire lives.

but its only when the phone rings that all hesitancy of the moment breathes hard. knocks unceremoniously against free inhibitions till you're wishing for him to ignore you. maybe, right here, right now, making the effort is enough, maybe it's all you need to say ...i did it, i tried... and nothing else. your whispers rushed and a bit scared and waiting. "don't answer, don't answer don't answer".

the ringing stops. he answers.

your breathing is soft, but present, the only thing that sings amongst the silence of him. what is this? after the callousness, the hardy stones you'd thrown into the glass of his resolve in an attempt to break him.

he's tired but not really. done but not really. he sighs, fingers roughing through his beard. "yeah?"

you giggle, breathy. a bit unnerved. your words rolling off, slightly slurred still. "thought i'd get your voicemail", you wonder how he looks, if his heart threatens to beat beyond the cage of his chest the way it does yours. "didn't think you'd answer".

he's quiet. breathing. "why'd you call?"

"you sound nice". the little thats left of the tequila pouring over your tongue into words. even in his tiredness he sounded beautiful. rich and dark and alluring. "did i wake you?"

"no". but he can't help himself, in being curious, in caring. "you alright?"

"i'mfine, ijust...i-"

"you sound drunk".

"tipsy".

"how much did you have?", a question but more so a command. the authority threaded in his voice lulling you in. it makes you shiver with need. makes you want to touch him.

"mhmm idon'tknow rome". and he can hear your shifting over the sheets, as you shift over answers to give him, that would satisfy him. you wanted so badly, despite your fears, to satisfy him. "a shot, a drink or two".

"lightweight for real", he chuckles. "who were you with?"

"cody. he got my uber".

is it so bad?, when the hour is late?, to think of seeing you, even if the thought is little and fleeting and ways away from dangerous? "you here at the hotel?"

"damn", and you're laughing. giddy at the way he worries. reeling with sarcasm "you want me to share my location?"

"watch yourself".

"yes sir".

and here the air is hesitant, forming fragile and ill-informed of whats to come. it shapes about the both of you wearily and groans even in it's stillness of how ill-suited it is at holding the ambivalence of this... love, lust, longing or whatever it is twisting about the both of you. it yearns for something new, for something unweighted and free and sweet.

roman asks you again. curiosity breaking a heaviness into the weight of him. "why'd you call?"

your bed sheets pinch and ruffle between your fingers, taking on the burden of your anxieties. "i figured if i went out...i'd-i'd get a little courage yknow? a drink or two and then i could call you, could hear your voice".

"hear my voice huh?", his jaw clenching. tone one of full mocking and scrutiny. after everything, all that was said, something like venom off your tongue in a means to poison his resolve, and now you wanted to hear from him? "and all that big talk, all that mouth and bravado, paying me dust and keepin it how it used to be", smiling mirthless. "what happened to that? where'd that go?"

you shiver, cold despite the warmth of the room. "i don't know roman".

"you don't?"

"i don't wanna argue with you".

"what do you want then? tell me so i know".

"it doesn't matter", something like a grin running through your lips, sullen and wistful. formed only by the sweet safety of what if's and what could be's, because those were always easier. "you'd leave". a single tear slips against your cheek. "you'd get bored after a while and you'd leave".

...but he isn't him, whoever that other man was, or could be, the one that'd seemingly broken you...

he sighs. "you're afraid of somethin that ain't happen".

"yet", you add.

"it's not going to".

"you don't know that".

"you don't either". and of course the fight is natural, this insistent war where true desires of the heart are subdued to the will of something comfortable and simple, because love, even at its easiest, proved always to be tedious and demanding. "i don't make it a habit of getting played".

"i don't make it a habit of playin", sincerity filling him whole. "how i've felt... how i feel still, about you? it's always been real sweetheart".

another tear and then another, till your skin is warm and nerves flustered. your chest tightening as your mouth trembles. "don't fault me for being scared, please?"

"clean slate. we can start over".

"ok".

and that restless buzzing, the harsh rushing of the city — cars and trains and people— works easy to overcome the natural fall of silence. breaths passing, his and then yours, one after the other and then together, in waiting, eager but unsure.

the emptiness is unsettling. makes you restless. urges the drive in his muscles to move.

your hand splays against a pillow, fingers curling in soft, your voice even softer. "what side of the bed are you laying on?"

"left side".

you hum. imagining him. hair splayed, long and gentle. "i hate the left side".

"i know", he smiles, small like and imaginative. thinking of older memories, where your legs find themselves curling against his own.

"it's empty, my left side".

"yeah?"

"yeah".

possibility, this mighty rushing in his blood.

"whats your room number?"

there was nothing flimsy about this, the gentle pull of his lips, tongue slipping cautioned but ready all the same, his fingers and palms seemingly made to do and withstand the brute force of many things but taking the time instead to hold you dearly. to savor with his touch what his lips cannot. but when the well of patience in him fills to the brim, when it overflows and floods him unsparingly, his persistence has no choice but to do the same. and your knees threaten to buckle, threaten to kill your resolve, as he cradles your head with one hand and the other anchored firm at your jaw —thumb and pointer— his kiss growing wetter, tongue sharper. because the time away —where neither of you could do more than fight and throw stones and break and avert, gazes and words and touches and thoughts and feelings— felt like forever. and then came the standstill, the white flag. clear air and even clearer intentions, over a phone call of all things. with simple words of the heart.

roman figured if anything, he was making up for lost time. your palms taking to his beard, thumbing over his cheeks, mouth forming soft over his.

you felt good, he felt good, but not so much that it couldn't be true.

and here, where you feel the abandon of his control grow, you break from his mouth, trying and failing to grab for something on a nearby shelf. but he's faster, reaches to grab the outstretch of your arm, flying it over his shoulder. his breath warm and enticing, rushing a thrumming in your blood as he nips the skin there. teasing.

your nails take this tender clawing into his nape, dipping into silky hair. "i thought we were taking it easy?"

his words mix between the twist of his lips. "we are. your clothes are still on". kissing along your neck.

but he doesn't loom here, statuesque in his anger. doesn't suffer your resolve to threaten a breaking or diminishing to fold under the weight of a harsh truth. knowing whether or not if his words would split you raw for a vicious bout of bloodletting. no he doesn't loom here, but his standing is firm all the same. gentle minded and secure. immovable in the way that it refuses to let you go.

you wonder if jimmy and jey and solo and naomi can hear him in the pantry from where they are in the living room. hear his groaning, and the smack of his lips as he takes yours. hear his lust and his love and his longing.

you hum against him in bliss. "you make it very obvious that you want to eat me alive when you look at me like that in front of everybody".

"am i supposed to feel bad about that? because i don't".

"being lowkey goes a long way sometimes".

"yeah a little too long".

but that night had only been one of the first nights of this mending, this slow cautious maneuver of putting back together the broken pieces of whatever this thing was that had been brewing for sometime. and it isn't until you're sitting in a shared comfortable silence, sipping wine and tasting sweet deserts that the realization comes to you. that this —the sex and the passion and the strife— has only ever been a thing, something ill formed and without definite shape. uncategorized and hesitantly spoken of. it had all been rushed with hushed pleasures and secrecy, rendezvous and an inherent longing that would not, for fear of realer things, be spoken of.

but it was very clear now, as he dipped a spoon into tiramisu, that you needed him.

and the pace here is easy, as waiters and other patrons breeze by your table without rest, without wait, his eyes and his stillness forming well over the hold you have as you touch him idly. your palm at his knee, raising to take his hand in yours, fingers folding in, shy and feathered and bursting with a wordless affection.

from where you are, just a short lean in from his lips, his features are not so intimidating, not so all consuming in that daunting way he's perfected. his cheeks are freckled and round and the brown of his eyes are bright.

you kiss him, take that short lean in and meld your lips till he hums and thumbs your chin. because he isn't him if he doesn't touch you. doesn't hold fast to your warmth.

and even after you part, the intimacy laced in the air breathes slow and lingering. "thank you for being so patient with me, with everything". your fingers fiddle and caress over his. "i know i haven't made it easy for you".

"when it's something i want, i wait".

and wait he did, with a statues patience. but even the strength of statues fail, worn and weathered if left to stand against time and their own stillness. eventually they all crumble, some in such a poetic fashion that its destruction means more than its birth, and other's with a simple, unceremonious falling. but the undoing of roman's patience is fierce and alluring. and as you breathe short, in between the firm pull of his lips, water hot and raining against your skin, you feel the chipping away of that patience as well. and it isn't just the pouring in of the shower and the sweet warmth of soaps and candles, but the influence of him as well, melting underneath flesh and bone.

6:17 PM

the steam forms something amorous. thickens the anticipation and lulls your resolve into a surrendering. and the tight feeding of his fingers into your thigh doesn't help any, nailing sharp and greedy as they have your leg hooked about his waist, his tongue licking against yours. and here in the kiss his lust grows slow and exacting, in a means to savor. making you moan and forcing your hips to grind mindless. his body hard and wet and safe.

your fingers curl into the hair just at his nape, tugging to pull, to break his lips from yours, but he's fast and wanting, rushing in for another sweet assailment. groaning in time with his pleasures as his hips rut at your soft skin. you try again to break from him, to breathe even if the air suffocates you so, and he gives in. settles for fastening himself to you elsewhere, to supple skin, and to grinding his hard dick at you. his mouth roaming about your neck, nipping with his teeth and kissing gentle. a meager attempt to reigning himself in.

your touch wanders further into his soaked hair, mouth moving to trace his, to tease him. "we have a reservation for 9", you kiss him lightly. "i don't wanna be late".

he hums, rests his forehead to yours. taut fingers working your hips to a slow grind against his dick. working what nerves lay dormant in you to life.

"the restaurant is a 30 minute drive", his nose and mouth nestling into the plains of skin where your neck ends and your shoulder begins. drinking in the small breaking off of your moans. "plenty of time".

7:29 PM

and the minutes wandered away fast and teasing, forcing in an urgency as you fought hard to slip away from him and the heaviness of his desires. and it took much control, to part from his warmth and the heavy lust of his eyes. from the way his touch and his mouth maneuvered —with seductive method— and the heat of his cock laying at your skin, so terribly close to where you need him. but how odd the fear is here, after the pulling away of all that nasty pettiness and the settling of it, no longer scared of how much he would love you, or how well he could etch himself to the inside of you —with touches and deep words filled with passion— but now, weary of just how unbearable you would be. because it seemed now that he was stuck with you, and that if he would continue his affections with such an intensity, that you would have no choice but to return it. and even in this, your fears, your weariness of this love and lust and longing, were not so frightening at all. but exciting.

you're excited.

"tie or no tie?"

the bulk of his arm, where tattoos paint the skin, slip through a white button up. fingers deft as they take the time to do in each button.

"no tie".

your hands soothing over your skin with a warm smelling body butter. eyes trailing to his as he watches your hands work over your skin.

"and the jacket, yes? no?"

"yes to the jacket", but your answer barely registers, and how could it possibly do so clearly enough when the fabrics of your underwear form over your body the way that it does. everything about you soft and inviting to the touch as you approach him. your fingers undoing the top most buttons. the intricate designs of tattoos here at the curve of his pec peaking through. "and just leave this open a little". your palms smoothening away at the rest of his shirt, over his shoulders to adjust the already adjusted collar, fingers slipping against already buttoned buttons, and when the smallest wrinkle catches your eyes, you're already flattening it to straighten. and here he takes you in, arresting with silence and a never ending depth to his eyes that leaves you without words.

his mouth close enough, breaths are shared. and there is no other word to describe the scent of him other than divine.

you want to fall into him, as free as air and without hesitation.

his lips smile. "you're staring".

but it is justified, because shouldn't all beautiful things be looked upon with awe and a speechless sort of appreciation? shouldn't they be touched, the way you touch him, your palms possessing him to hold as you kiss him greedily and without wait. your tongue lashing through firm and without the mind to yield. moaning gentle into him and if not for his own strength he would fall to his knees. is this not how beautiful things should be treated? should they not be adored and reverenced? should he not pry at your skin the way that he does? dull nails sinking in to remember the forms they take as they go. your leg found slipping around his waist again as his fingers move swiftly to claw their way down till your panties push away helpless.

and he groans, lips parting only to find yours again, finding you warm and wet as his touch slips through the mess of your slit. and he wonders how long you've been like this, stewing in your own desires. his blood rushing hot and fast, feeling the heavy throb your body takes as he plays a teasing touch at your opening. something whiny and dainty tumbling off your tongue as you fight to reign in that wild burst of lust so loosely falling off your skin.

"roman", you warn. so small it nears a whisper.

"shhhh, relax", his finger dipping in to feel the heat of your pussy. a neediness to see you break bursting in the cage of his chest, his heart hammering at the sweet daze in your eyes. "just a little bit baby".

"we're gonna be late". you fight.

and you want to say how much you hate him, how much you hate the ease of his touch—such a terrible gentleness— and you hate how it makes you swoon, and throb harder, feeling the depth of his artful handlings. you fucking hate it, hate him, fuck, and your breath labors harsher than before, feeling the seam of his lips as they sit to hover above yours, and shit, his fingers stroking firmer than before, a slighter urgency in the pace that catches your breath and his eyes dim low but they hypnotize you, and no you don't, but, well yes you do hate him, but you don't, a moan stretching in sync from him and from you, and damnit you love him. love his touch and the proof of his lust, how naturally it is born from his love and his longings.

he can see the prickling in your eyes, the glassiness just before the burning brown of them. and you ruffle your face into his chest, into the balminess of his skin but he does not relent. and the sound your arousal makes as it coats his long fingers is lewd but it brushes over you warm and inviting. drives your waist to grind into his every stroke till release is sweet and so close.

the undoing is palpable, a licking flame against the skin. short tremors starting in your legs as you call to him. little whispers that beg, "please...please...please", hushed and slurred.

and just when it's there, it isn't, his fingers slipping out of you slow, wet still and gripping your ass to stop the mindless grinding your hips take.

"roman, no, what are you-", his lips kissing yours to stop the words and the worry. but he's kilt weeks, hell, months of such a lengthy build up, and your body rushes confused and unsatisfied. you pull from him, just enough to speak, feeling his palm caress into where he holds you. "what are you doing?"

"its almost eight", his body forsaking yours to step out of the bedroom. "need you to clean up and finish getting ready".

8:18

at your wrist

at the bend of your inner knees, your elbows

the skin of your neck just behind your ears

and just where your ankles roll inward.

his dress shoes click back into the bedroom to be met with an immediate assailment. but this violence is no violence at all, but rather a sweet, sultry thing. enticing. and he holds his wrist forward to check the time. 8:20. fuck the reservation, he thinks, stepping till he's behind you. eyes peering through the mirror, watching the delicate way you curl a thin brush over your eyelashes. a dark mascara that thickens and pulls the length and when you check the fruits of such minuscule labor, beautiful and satisfied, the crotch of his pants prove too thin, and uncomfortable. and as he dips his nose into your neck and molds his fingers to your hips, flushing you against him easy, you work into your nerves an air of dispassion. cleaning the dresser of miscellaneous things, fighting the urge to let him do whatever he wants with you.

and here, just behind your ear, the perfume proves to be intoxicating. his grip nailing in, curling to bring you impossibly closer. but his eyes never break. they hold, piercing hot and mischievous through the mirror.

in the silence you both suspend, weighing the importance of your plans.

he nestles into you. the fabric of your dress raising as his fingers pull.

and his voice makes you weak. thrums your blood.

"how important is this dress?".

"important enough", you hold against the balling his fist takes. "i paid money for it".

roman eases to his knees. undoes the neat knot he's made of his hair. he knows just how much you adore the feel of it. he pushes the fabric to rest above the curve of your hips. taps your right leg.

you lift it, angling it to rest your knee on the dresser. breathing labored. excited.

his own breath is warm at your skin, "and if we miss the reservation?" the sweet spice of your perfume meets him here too. his thumbs spreading you in a leisure manner.

anticipation consumes you. voice ragged. "it's not important".

he hums, delighted, his tongue lapping soft. testing and teasing. and your body leans forward, sensitive and longing, hips shifting away at such an intimate touch. but he holds firm, slipping wet through your slit again, continuously, his thumbs caressing where his grip tightens into your skin. and now that he's here, his patience to leave you undone forms new. bleeds a vigor about his every muscle and bone. your senses growing pliant above him, resolve melting as your hips shift to brush along the wet sweep of his tongue. and why he takes to such a leisure pace, you have no idea, but the pleasure simmering, fighting its way up the slope of your spine, grieves. wishing for something harsher. something less controlled.

the silence is remedied with a tender "please". teeth taking your lips to bite.

his mouth kissing, lingering, and you feel it spread. a smile. his mischief slipping into your skin before the inevitable pulling in, your clit caught, pulsing and needy as he sucks, thirsty and unstopping. and you feel arousal drip slow, glistening, his tongue catching it to savor. throat groaning as he shifts back forward to taste the fat of your clit. and though you stand above him, your hips shift ill-controlled and your voice leaves you soft and broken. belly coiling tight as his ministrations grow more singleminded by the second.

the nails of your fingers find their way to the roots of his hair, pulling him closer and running to soothe into his scalp. jaw dropped and gasping."feels so good baby".

and the slip of roman's tongue is lewd, caresses the swell of your clit as his mouth works your pussy. and as desperation mounts your bones, your other set of fingers tighten to hold against the dresser, arousal dripping its way past the onslaught of his mouth to run through his beard. the pricks of the hair there, rubbing your inner thighs to burn raw.

he grunts. "fuck", muffled and heated. dipping his tongue through till he's caressing the warmth of your walls. slow and reverential, savoring the tight clutch that holds him there.

white heat blankets your skin, fingers slipping to nestle through your slit, laying a dulcet touch to your clit. his tongue wide and gentle as it fucks you. and the sensation there is terribly sweet, solders hot and binding till your legs begin to tremble above him.

"roman", you call for him. tender and broken. he feels a blooming in his chest. heat and an eagerness. " 'm coming".

and the burden of that mounting coil shatters. pulses hard as you ride the sensation, fingers rubbing over the mess of your clit. thumb catching the soft nub to press against your pointer, trapping it to prolong that rich thrumming that flows about your skin. and roman takes to kissing you again, licking his tongue through the messiness of your release and kissing over your fingers.

8:50. the dinner reservation long forgotten.

but there are many other things forgotten besides white table cloth, wine glasses and intimately lit candles. the once so perfect button up he'd tucked into expensive slacks, now strewn about the floor, creased to hell next to the shine of abandoned shoes. and with all these things, left to be unremembered, is that mischievous sort of patience born from his teasing. where his touch was once salacious and mocking, unforgiving in the way it played well and denied pleasure better, is now just a filled shell of desperation. need running like flares of wild fire. and it shows here, as you sit atop the dresser, legs wrapped about him, the way roman aches and throbs, hot and demanding. cock thick and hard, reddened and leaking as he slips it through the stickiness of your slit.

his tongue growing sloppy, drunkly slipping over yours, pushing in the taste he'd savored so dearly. his skin teeming with a rushing, this great throbbing in his spine and the muscles in his core as he nestles the tip of his dick through the tight clutch of your heat. groaning in time with his pleasures as he sinks in, corralling your thighs forward to control the pacing, and deeper he goes till you're taking him to the hilt. the build of him seeming to crumble before your eyes, this mountain of a man trembling and undone by the warmth of you. delirium coursing fluid over bones as he stills to feel the softness and the pulsing. everything he'd missed, finally at his finger tips again.

and if not for the pain and the violence of it, you'd pull your nails through him. over taut skin and the great build of his muscles. not in a means to destroy, no, but in the hopes to consume him. a more permanent etching beneath his flesh where blood flows, just as he's done to you.

you hiss, breaths stuttered. mouth falling where the freckles at his cheeks live, balmy and heavy, attempting to find his mouth amongst the fall of his hair. to kiss him as he stretches you to take him. your fingers combing over the strays and flyaways, roughing your legs tighter to deepen the weight of him inside you.

you moan. something feathery and gentle. the fullness of him threatening to split your ears. and when his hips slip forward, fluid and strong, your fist knocks against the marble of the dresser. pain in your hand turning to pleasure else where.

"mhmgmh", his groan dark, feeling it rough up your body. and the carved marble of the dresser becomes more tainted by the second, the drag of him against the pulse and flutter of your heat so terribly charming. a soothing take to your pussy thats rigid enough to leave you breathless. and when your spine curls forward, head lulling to kiss the mirror, he leads with tongue to kiss your skin. "that's it right there huh?", but he needs no answer. pure evidence here, his dick rutting forward through the mess of you.

"yesss", stressed and drawn out.

the gentle pull of you, flexing wet and tight, a cureless addiction. his words slightly slurred, lips at your cheek, trailing to your neck, over your shoulder, plush and kiss swollen. "so soft babygirl". the draw in of him singleminded, throbbing and rutting. groaning as dazed eyes catch the feed in of his cock, a deep burying that shudders his skin. "love when you let me touch you like this", driving his fingers to form further up over your hips, dull nails curling at your back. "when you let me fuck you good", his hips pressing in as he stills, grinding slow, for you to feel him there, where he belongs. "how you need it".

you cry, a tear staining your cheek. the tremble of your lips forming over his as you kiss him. body molding to him, the go of his thrusts mindful as they work to fill you. and here, he slips in easy, steady still but with a gentler purpose. and his fingers, even in their dullness, don't run as brutal and the deftness of him proves with a tender rocking of his hips. arousal soaking him sweet as it sounds above the silence.

and the shock of everything takes hold. the ways you fought so terribly against him, to suffer in what you thought would be some less harsher fate than to live lovingly with him.

your voice stretches out delicately. into the safety of him. "don't leave me", quivering as you feel the building pressure in your body. "stay please".

"not going anywhere sweetheart", a hand at your cheek, thumb caressing there, "i'm right here", and the other pulling you impossibly closer by the thigh. lips over yours, sharing breaths. "you feel me? i'm right here", words whispered and groaning, the stroke of him deep and easy still.

and as he'd wanted since the beginning, your resolve crumbles as he holds you in his hands.

your heart heavy. fearful, excited. "....love you....", trembling as you come undone. "i love you".

he twitches, releasing thick and warm in you. pulling your lips in, passionate and relieved, tongue rolling to taste the words he'd waited to hear from forever ago, when everything about your attitude towards him was flimsy and hollow. and the bursting in his chest is undeniable, a smile slipping across his lips as the heat of the air sits easy about the both of you.

he kisses you again, lingering, with love and lust and longing.

"i love you too".

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trashybugs · 4 months

Text

[Fanservant] Pan-Human-History Fairy King Oberon

PHH Fairy King Oberon

Class: Ruler

PROFILE

Default:

The great fairy king and the ruler of the Seelie court. Different from his Lostbelt counterpart who was born as a doomsday terminal, this fairy king lives just to enjoy life and be happy.

Although he was born as the elven king Alberich from the Germanic folklore Nibelungenlied, as time progresses, he has incarnated into a more famous portrayal from Shakespeare's "Midsummer Night Dream". He loves fame and attention, he doesn't mind shedding his old shell to become a more resplendent butterfly.

He is very capable in combat and holds a great strength, capable of controlling the nature and weather even from a change of mood. Because of his overwhelming strength, he's used to toying with his enemies and underestimating them. He prefers to summon his fae servants to fight for him while he watches from a fair distance with a benevolent (cruel) smile.

Bond 1:

Height/Weight: 183cm, 60kg (not counting antlers)

Origin: Germanic folklore, medieval European literature

Region: Britain (formerly), Avalon

Alignment: Chaotic-Neutral

Gender: Male

"My my, dearest, pray tell, why are you staring at me with that innocent, doe-eyed eyes look of yours... are you that astonished at how different I am to that pathetic, washed-out mimicry?

As expected, not a single being in any realm could come close to my greatness after all. Of course, there's a limit to what playing pretend could do... Now, come sit beside me. I would love to hear what you think of me."

A flirty, unrestrained, and outgoing monarch. Oberon has gathered a lot of lovers from varying races in his lifetime, and he's still open into adding more to his harem.

Bond 2:

While he loves gathering beautiful people for himself, he also takes great enjoyment in playing matchmaker and seeing other people's relationship develop, for the best or the worst.

A complete opposite from his other self who appreciates and finds value in everything, this Oberon does not bother attaching meaning in anything he chases. He doesn't view relationships and connections as something that should be cherished, for in the infamous Shakespearian play, his wife has proven to still love him no matter what he does.

He has a great many desires but his motives seem to be empty and short-sighted. As seen in the play, he gave his queen, Titania, a love potion to prank her without thinking much of what will happen after its effects wore off. He received no consequences for his actions and the story eventually brushed aside the quarrel that they had, further enabling his behavior. To him, there never seemed to be a problem that came his way or a moment in the story that criticized his faulty mindset.

His appetite for the world is unquenchable, as he views everything in it as worthy of enjoyment. He seeks to collect everything that shines before his eyes, yet as his collection grows, so does his dissatisfaction. What motives he has to obtain them are but a momentary fancy, but due to his own frivolous nature, he's fundamentally incapable of realizing and fulfilling his desire for a genuine attachment

Oberon lives as any pan-human history fairies will do, living life as he pleases.

Bond 3:

Being one of the great-father of the fae realm, Oberon, who came from the inner sea of the planet and has no connection with human civilization, is very connected to nature.

This can be seen with his appearance, a large beautiful antlers that attracts birds and insects to land on it, and legs resembling a stag. his outfit and a flowery cloak that is magically created by his fae servants. He’s adorned with jewelries from humans who gave him offering as a way to pass his territory safely. In some legend his pearls are made out of maiden’s tears.

with a face that is blessed to be forever beautiful, he is a king that is fitting to rule the fae realm.

Without his beloved queen Titania to accompany him, he took in her role and personality. He developed more gentle, nurturing, almost motherly role to the fairies around him.

As long there’s nature around him, he could give birth to new fairies on a whim using little bit of mana from his Fairy Patterns. He sires many children from that method of reproduction alone but he also took enjoyment in creating them with others. Such as his consorts and random human maidens.

In some legends he have another famous fairy queen besides Titania, named queen Mab

Bond 4:

Oberon was horrified and amused upon finding out about his other self. A pretend prince in rags and naught a kingdom to speak of. A solitary, spineless insect who is content to forever stare at the star above him instead of dragging it down for himself.

Oberon can't wrap his mind on the way his other self sees the world, and while he agrees that stories should not be forgotten, he thinks they should rightfully be enjoyed forever, else they don't qualify as something interesting. In that case, they might as well be obsolete in his eyes.

In the end he took great enjoyment in observing his other self, and wouldn't even mind extending his affections toward him.

After all, he is still his beloved's master compatriot.

Bond 5:

Though his favor is true in a sense, his seeming infatuation with the Chaldean master urges him to act as though he's madly in love with them. In truth, he initially sees them as a form of entertainment, something to satisfy his curiosity and burgeoning envy as to why his other self-took so much liking towards them.

His yearning for the fictitious Titania might perhaps be even stronger than that of Oberon Vortigern's, for he sees Titania as his rightful wife in the myth, unlike Oberon Vortigern who is simply a pretender. As time goes on, his desperation to have a genuine affection for his master grows, leading him to question why their relationship with his other self seems to flourish more than it does with him. He's failed to understand that his connection with his master is fundamentally different, as the relationship between his other self and the Chaldean master have been forged through a long journey together in Lostbelt Britain.

Despite his strong longing for a true love, he doesn't put much effort in trying to find it nor is his attachment to that desire strong enough to make him hate Pan Human History.

"After all, the world is a beautiful place filled with enjoyment, what would be the point in destroying such things?"

The world is but a playground to him, in the end.

big thanks to my friend @lamunana who helps me brainstorm his lore, write her own ideas and even fix my grammar!

#fgo #fate grand order #fgo oc #PHH Oberon #Oberon #trashy oc #fgo fanservant #fate fanservant

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adrift-in-thyme · 2 months

Text

Happy belated birthday @luna-lovegreat !!! Here’s the Sky fluff I promised!

So sorry this took me awhile to finish!

—————————

“Just how strong is the bond between a loftwing and a Skyloftian?”

Sky has been asked that question quite often since plummeting to the surface. Even more so after he ventured from his timeline. He never truly knows how to reply. How can he explain their relationship? How can he put into words the utter exhilaration of soaring atop your loftwing?

From what he has observed, people usually place platonic love — and especially the platonic love between human and beast — somewhere beneath both romantic and familial, as though it is an inferior thing. As though it can never reach the same heights and depths as the others. The same precious worth. But Sky knows differently.

The love a loftwing and their rider share is like nothing else. As priceless and unbreakable as a diamond.

So, when, finally, a portal spits the heroes out in his era, Sky is overjoyed.

He can see Sun for the first time in forever, wrap her in his loving arms, hold her close and breathe her in, and whisper everything he’s wanted to tell her all these long months. He can see his friends, his family, the place that will always be his home, no matter how far he travels or what monsters he battles.

And —

He separates from Sun, runs to Lofty as the bird lands in a rush of wind and feathers. A grin splits his face and it feels good to smile after everything, so, so good…

— and he can reunite with his loftwing.

“Wow!” Wind gasps, mouth agape. “So, that’s a loftwing?”

“Close that mouth of yours before you swallow a bug,” Twilight teases, setting a hand on the sailor’s shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile. “He’s beautiful, Sky.”

Lofty preens beneath the praise, ruffling his feathers and throwing back his head. Sun chuckles, and Sky sends her a grin.

“He is, isn’t he?” He sighs, leaning his forehead against Lofty’s beak. The next words leave his lips in a whisper meant only for the glorious animal before him…though if the beautiful woman standing close beside him hears he won’t mind. “I missed you so much, Lofty.”

A low trill emanates from the bird.

“He has missed you too,” Sun murmurs. “I’ve taken him out for a few flights to keep his wings limber. But you know he truly flies for no one except you.” She cocks her head, a grin on her lips. “You should take him out for a flight.”

He turns to her, a question in his eyes. It’s been so long, after all. He feels as though he hardly has enough time to catch up with them both. Much less Gaepora and Groose and everyone else….

“Are you sure, Zel?”

Sun nods and the breeze lifts her golden locks. “Go on, sleepyhead. We’ll have all the time in the world to spend together once you get back.”

Sky breathes in deep.

That’s right. They have time now. For the first time in a while, they have time.

He raises his eyes to Lofty’s, excitement alighting in his chest.

“You wanna go for a flight, Lofty?”

Feathers fly as the bird straightens, shaking himself out. His proud cry reverberates around the space.

Sky leans over, presses a kiss to Sun’s lips. And then, surrounded by the echoes of oohs and awws and ews that sound from his brothers, he climbs atop the loftwing’s back and is off.

The sky is a brilliant blue today. And while it’s always a brilliant blue in Skyloft – has been since he was born – Sky can still appreciate its splendor.

Even the brightest, most joyful heavenly display in another Hyrule cannot measure up to the plush clouds and soaring ceruleans of his home. And as Lofty climbs higher and higher, he feels a wide grin stretch his lips.

It is wonderful to be home.

He had known that he missed it – this little island full of vibrancy and life. The longing had eaten at him during the long nights and dogged at his steps through their arduous journey. But he supposes he had suppressed it to an extent — denied it even — if only to keep going. If only to keep from crumbling beneath the fear that always captures him when he sets foot on firm, grounded earth.

The fear that he will never again take to the skies.

But now as Lofty turns his grand body in a barrel roll and his sailcloth lifts and the wind sings in his ears and fills his nostrils with exhilarating freshness, those dark feelings are miles away.

Lofty pauses abruptly at the tail end of the trick. Then, he dives, plunging downward so suddenly that Sky’s stomach plummets along with him. His grin grows wider even as the brisk air steals any moisture from his mouth. He’ll be choking later, more than likely. But he is used to it by now.

A dry throat is a small price to pay.

Lofty shoots up, goes down again. Another pointed spin takes out a drifting octo. Sky’s echoing whoop turns to almost giddy laughter.

“Having fun, sleepyhead?” Someone calls from his right. Sky looks up just in time to catch sight of Sun streaking towards him. Her loftwing flips upside down as they soar over his head. Her delicate fingers reach for his and for a split second, the world seems to slow.

“Sorry,” she says as their fingers brush in the ghost of a caress, “I couldn’t resist joining you.”

Lofty lets out an eager call of welcome and Sky smiles.

“I’m glad you did, Zelda.”

She smiles and the world seems to grow a little brighter.

It always does when she’s around…

“How about a race, then?” She inclines her head toward the minuscule forms standing on the edge of Skyloft. “They’ve already cast bets.”

Sky chuckles. “All in favor of you, I’m sure.”

She doesn’t reply. But her smile grows just a touch larger, a hint of mischief in it.

Sky shakes his head.

He’ll admit it hurts a little to be betrayed by his brothers in such a way. They’re right though.

The only person who could ever beat him in a fair race was Sun.

“Alright.” His grin is more fierce now, teeth bared in playful determination. “You’re on!”

Yes, he thinks as they streak toward the designated finish line, the tips of their loftwings’ wings just touching, the bond between a loftwing and their partner is strong. As strong as the love he feels for Zelda. As strong as the love he feels for his brothers.

His family.

And maybe in it’s own way…even stronger.

#hope you don’t mind that some zelink found its way in here #I can never resist skyward sword zelink lol #anyway I hope you enjoyed!#and had a wonderful birthday :D #trin writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu sky #lu sun #lu chain #fluff #zelink

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

Text

In Deep

~*~

So this is a little different from what I've posted previously - and my first NSFW in this fandom - so please be warned and be kind.

Softness and sexual shapeshifting to follow.

~*~

Larissa wasn’t kidding when she said she didn’t tire easily. You’ve lost count of the number of times she’s tipped you over the edge tonight. Not that it’s been all one sided. You don’t think you could ever get tired of seeing her lose control, face contorted in ecstasy.

You’re both a bit of a post coital haze when she pulls you into her lap until you’re straddling her. It’s a position you’ve discovered she’s rather fond of. You’re hardly opposed to it either, enjoying the way it evens out your height difference and keeps her lips within easy kissing distance.

You feel her hands settle on your hips, guiding you to roll them. It’s a lazy, sluggish motion when you finally do, but you feel her smile against your shoulder. She’s clearly not done with you tonight. The fact that she wants you like this never fails to ignite the flame in you. Finding her lips in a sloppy kiss, you start to shift to straddle her leg instead, seeking some friction.

She pulls back, however, and you find her gazing at you with an odd expression on her face.

“What? Do you want me to get the strap?”

You watch as she bites her lip, suddenly shy. It’s not like her. At least, not anymore. When she had first suggesting using one she had stuttered over her words and gone bright red. You on the other hand had practically whimpered at the thought of her wanting to take you like that.

“What if we didn’t need it?”

You frown. “We don’t,” you say flatly. You really don’t. Between her body, her fingers, her mouth and that voice Larissa has given you more orgasms than you’ve cumulatively had in your life prior to meeting her. All of them excellent.

“No, I mean...what if...”

Usually you’re quick to catch on to her line of thought but you’re already worked up and things still feel a little hazy.

“I’m a shapeshifter.”

Still you frown. This isn’t news to you.

“When I shapeshift, I don’t need to shift everything,” she continues, her cheeks pink. “I can alter certain parts.”

There is a few moments where the dots still don’t connect for you. Then, suddenly, they do. “Oh.”

“I mean, I don’t...we don’t...”

“You’ve thought about this?” you ask, and although she doesn’t say anything the deepening blush on her cheeks tells you everything. “Have you done this before?” You don’t mean it as a judgement, more out of curiosity.

Her face falls.

“Pussycat?” You duck your head, trying to catch her eyes. Those eyes you love so much.

“Once,” she admits quietly. “A long, long time ago.” She buries her face into the crook of your neck and you automatically bring your arms up to wrap around her and hold her close.

“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” You softly stroke your fingers through her hair, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“It was...I was young,” she finally says quietly. “I hadn’t even realised I could. I had never tried, but the woman I was with...she taunted me. Said since I was big enough and ugly enough I should just grow a set and fuck her. So I did.”

Why the world has decided it has to be so cruel to Larissa you will never understand. Your hands move to find her cheeks, forcing her to look at you. “Was she blind? Stupid? Both? You’re magnificent.”

Leaning your forehead against hers, you see her lips turn up in a trembling smile, tears in her eyes. You will forever shoot down the hurtful words of those that have come before. Will forever try to sooth the hurt of the careless blows from thoughtless lips. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“She was a terrible choice of one night stand,” Larissa mumbles.

“You haven’t done it again since?”

“The one night stand or the..?”

You smirk, chuckling. “You’re a good-looking woman with needs. I’m sure there have been more than a few breaks in the dry season before I shuffled in.” Pressing another kiss to the side of her mouth, your smile softens. “If it’s something you want to try I’m certainly not opposed to it.”

She pulls back abruptly, her eyes scanning your face, her surprise evident.

“One thing though,” you tell her, watching as she sits up a little straighter, her face suddenly serious as though she expects you to lay down some very strict rules of engagement. “Shapeshifter anatomy is not my forte. Do we need to worry about me getting knocked up?”

She laughs, clearly not having expected the question. “No. I’m a female shapeshifter, so regardless of what form I take, and whatever gender that form is, I’m still genetically female.”

You tilt your head, pondering over her words. “So you can get the hardware, just not the wiring?”

“Something like that,” she agrees, biting her lip again as she hesitate before asking; “You’d really try it?”

You bring your hands up to cup her face once more. “It’s you, and I happen to find you incredibly sexy, so you don’t need to sound so surprised.”

There’s a pause and you feel her shift, squirming slightly beneath you. When she meets your eyes, her pupils are blown. “Tonight?”

You roll your hips in answer, not getting a chance to elaborate further in words before her lips are on yours. It’s messy and eager, and you can’t help but smile against her lips. As her tongue swipes across your lower lip in question you immediately allow her to deepen the kiss, closing your eyes as you get lost in her. It’s then that you feel it.

Oh.

You can’t say you have much experience when they’re not made of silicon but you hadn’t expected her to instantly be standing to attention. Opening your eyes, you find her looking at you nervously. Resting your hands on her shoulders, you rise up on your knees, adjusting yourself until you’re hovering over her. You take a moment to memorise the look on her face; the hunger, the lust, the excitement. Sinking down onto her, you briefly wonder how much she can feel, but as she lets out a guttural moan to match your own you find your answer.

“Are you okay? It’s not too much?” she asks, and you can see the effort it takes for her to concentrate on asking you the question and not get lost in the physical sensations currently flooding her system. It warms you, the way she’s always quick to check in with you, no matter what you’re doing.

You feel you should have expected her to be big. She doesn’t do things by halves. You take a breath, revelling in the knowledge that you’re being filled by her. “No,” you breathe. “No. It’s just...” You hiss as you shift your hips experimentally. “It’s you. It feels so good.”

She grins before moving to kiss and nip at your neck as you begin to move in earnest, slowly finding a rhythm together. It doesn’t take long for either of you, the excitement of the entirely new sensation overwhelming. You’re the first to fall over the edge, she following you only moments later with a breathy moan, both clinging to each other as you try to catch your breath.

When you finally manage to lift your head from her shoulder you find her looking at you hungrily. “What?”

She shakes her head, dropping her gaze.

You can’t help but grin. “You’re not done yet.” You can feel she’s not done yet, not to mention see it in her face. She really doesn’t tire easily.

Blue eyes meet your own once more and you can see the hesitancy in her face.

“If you don’t want to tell me, show me,” you tell her, watching as her eyes widen in disbelief. “I trust you. If it’s too much or I don’t like it, you know I’ll tell you.”

Her breathing quickens, her hesitation fading in the face of her excitement. “You’re sure?”

You nod, feeling her arms wrap around you as she moves, still deep in you as she manoeuvres you until she has you on your back beneath her. You bite your lip as she takes your hands in her own, holding them above your head. You do love to have her looming above you, her hair loose as she moves. Her having two hands free is also a bonus.

She moves slowly to begin with, and you roll your hips, eager to show willing. It takes a bit of getting used to; the new angle, the lack of a harness but she quickly finds her rhythm. Encouraged by your moans and grasping hands, her thrusts become a little more forceful. She leans down to capture your lips, the kiss messy and precisely what you both need.

She hisses as your nails find purchase on her skin, inadvertently thrusting harder into you, bringing a deep moan from your throat.

“You like that?”

You whimper as she repeats the action. “Yessss.” You want to keep your eyes open, but when she starts to pound into you in earnest, you can’t help by throw your head back, hands fisting in the sheets you try to hold on just a little longer. It’s when her lips find your neck once more, kissing, sucking and nipping that you find yourself hurtling towards the blissful abyss, squirming beneath her. “So close,” you manage to get out, finally falling to pieces only a few thrusts later.

Your back arches sharply as the coil that has been building within you finally snaps and you’re only brought back down to earth by a deep moan and the weight of Larissa collapsing on top of you as she comes only a few moments later as you clench around her. A whimper leaves your lips as you feel her shift back following her orgasm, apparently as quick to revert back to her usual form as she usually is to rid herself of the harness between you.

For a few minutes, the only sound filling the room is that of laboured breathing as you both recover from your release. You find yourself mindlessly stroking Larissa’s hair as she lays her head on your chest, the warmth and weight of her body atop your own always a comfort to you.

“Was that okay?” she finally asks, her voice small. “It wasn’t too much? I wasn’t too much?”

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips. You’re still twitching with aftershocks. “Okay? Oh, Pussycat. That was more than okay.”

She looks up at you, blue eyes sparking. “Really?”

“Really,” you smile. “You’re never too much for me,” you tell her. “You’re just the perfect amount.”

“Even when I’m being a huge geek?”

“Especially when you’re being a huge geek,” you reply, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “Because you’re my huge geek.”

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems

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loving-family-poll · 4 months

Text

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Norma and Norman Bates sculpture by artist "Rainman," titled Murderer

Propaganda under the cut:

Norma/Norman:

The weirdest, most charming mother/son duo ever. Bates Motel took an interesting story and turned it into something greater, exploring Norma and Norman's relationship with sincere sympathy. Their love for each other is beautiful, but destructive; their intimacy was born out of necessity and shared pain; the world won't leave them alone. It's awful to witness. It's beautiful and heartbreaking.

i mean COME ON. Norma is constantly upset that Norman expresses interest in other women. She hid her husband from Norman because she knew Norman would throw a hissy fit over them being together (which he did)

He tried to commit murder-suicide so they could die together and when he survived he taxidermied her corpse so they could be together forever

Norman “It’s like there’s a cord between us” x Norma “Honey that’s - that’s from Jane Eyre” are everything to me. I’m barely scratching the surface in doing justice to their insanity. They mean everything to each other and I love their fucked-up codependency so dearly.

After he killed her he couldn't live without her so literally absorbed her personality and started wearing her clothes and speaking for her and carrying her corpse around and when a woman he was attracted to showed up at the hotel he killed her as his mother bc of his mother's jealousy??

Gerard/Mikey:

Vocalist and bassist respectively of my chemical romance. they are insanely codependent (describing themselves as the same person just different heights etc). gerard has also licked mikeys nipple onstage. good times

Gerard is decidedly super abnormal about mikey. he has written many songs about him that are always adjacent to straight up love songs. he has also been explicitly sexual with him (giving him a pantomime handjob, caressing his chest, saying he looks like a hooker etc etc) while also constantly babying him. theyre codependent and they finish each others sentences and theyre in ickydisgusting brotherlove❤️❤️❤️❤️

Grew up together as the outsiders in their New Jersey town and spent their teenhoods together in a musty basement. Mikey learned to walk by running after Gerard and face-planting. Gerard drew comics for Mikey and told him stories. They went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert together and decided that being in a band is what they wanted out of life. Mikey learned the bass because Gerard was in bands and he wanted to join. Gerard called up Mikey after witnessing 9/11 and told him they're gonna start a band. Everything they do is together, they love each other. And isn't it so much fun to turn that incest?

Mikey Way wrote a comic where the main character, who looks like him from the black parade era, gets a woman pregnant. Which isn't incestuous on its own, but she looks like the female version of Gerard Way from the black parade era. Love is love or something

#tumblr polls #tournament polls #incest poll #norma/norman bates #psycho #bates motel #gerard/mikey way #waycest #mcr #my chemical romance #tw incest #round 2

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ateez-himari · 9 months

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Moments : Jungkook & Himari LIVE

(230802)

H : I think Atiny might be shocked if they hear that we did a live stream together...they don't know that we're friends...

J : We've known each other for 9 years and you haven't told them ?

H : No...because your tattoos make you look like a delinquent...and Atiny says that I can't be friends with delinquents

J : [Rummaging through the mini fridge] Hima...did you see the bottle of banana milk I brought over ? I thought I put it in here...

H : [Holding the exact bottle he was talking about with his name written on it] ...Maybe one of the members took it...Wooyoung oppa's sneaky

J : [Walking back into frame] I thought the only ones at the company were in the other practice room th-

H : [Didn't know he was coming so has the object of the crime in her hand while she reads comments] ...I have no idea how it got here

J : One of the comments earlier said that Wooyoung thinks your representative emoji should be a bunny like me...I think he's right

H : [Walks back from the computer and bites him on the shoulder]

J : AHH WHAT THE-

H : HOW WAS THAT FOR A BUNNY ?

[After reading a comment from a fan that had just heard about Himari getting her driver's license a while ago]

H : Not many people know this for some reason...but it's true, I got my driver's license in March actually...so before Hongjoong-oppa

J : Considering how bad you are at Mario Kart I'm surprised that they even let you step foot in a car...

H : ...Oppa are you gonna hold rainbow road over my head forever ?

J : Considering your height I'd say that everything is over your head...

J : [Responding to a comment asking how the two met] She just appeared in my nightmares one day...and she never left

H : ...That's why I'm Yoongi-oppa's favorite

J : [Whispering while Himari is laying on the floor looking at her phone] Watch...after years of knowing each other she still doesn't know the basics about me. [Turns to her and goes back to speaking normally] Yah Hima, how big is the age difference between us ?

H : [Puts her phone down and turns to lay towards him] Well you were born in '98 so...3 years, why ?

J : I was born in 1997...

H : No you weren't ! [Googles 'Jungkook birthday'] ...Why would you lie to Google ?

H : [Wordlessly walks behind Jungkook and grabs the sides of his biceps before shaking him]

J : What are you doing-

H : Jungshook...

J : What's wrong with you...

H : [Dying of laughter on the floor next to him]

H : Oppa I love you !

J : [Reaches into his bag and pulls out 10 000 won before handing the bill to her] Here you go

H : That's not even-

J : [Cuts her off by giving her yet another bill]

H : Can I not simply love you-

#ateez 9th member #ateez au #ateez extra member #ateez female member #ateez imagines #kpop oc

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moonlitinks · 9 months

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What Fate Decides [Taehyung x Reader] [Part 3]

join tag list for future works | masterlist of all works previous | next drabble

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 become a member on my ko-fi page! or buy me a coffee 💞

summary: You're a beta in love with your best friend, alpha Kim Taehyung. Except you know that you can never fulfill his dominating urges, so you draw a line between the two of you. Cherish his small kisses and embraces until an omega has to come along.

Until one day, you're not a beta anymore. Now, it's nearly impossible to resist the protective, endearing alpha in front of you.

pairing: taehyung x reader

chapter tags/warnings: angst, fluff, alpha/omega, a/b/o dynamics, best friends to lovers, slow burn ish, smut, mature, swearing

note: sorry for the wait all <3 last part coming in a bit! thank you for being here and reading my works (I am forever grateful). If you want to hang out with me, check out my insta, and if you'd like to donate me a coffee, check out my kofi page!

The accident turned you into an omega.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie. You were a dormant omega, apparently, but now you’re a real one. Or something like that. In truth, your face had been pale, and though the doctor’s mouth was moving, nothing seemed to register. Finally, you had been comfortable with being a Beta. And then suddenly, the world shifts it’s axis, it being Wacky Wednesday or something, and you’re an Omega.

You release a wry laugh. What a joke.

A joke, because you lost your best friend.

A joke, because you lost your freedom.

A joke, because you feel as if you just lost everything.

The door swings open to your studio, and you watch as Taehyung is fumbling outside your doorway, hands in his pockets, peeking up from you from under his bangs. Though you normally wouldn’t think anything of it as a beta, the omega side suddenly sees it as groveling. An alpha hunching over and submitting to his omega.

Ha. Like you’re his omega. There are thousands of them lined up already, begging for his attention no doubt. Adding yourself to the list among the more experienced, and beautiful, ones is a waste of heartbreak.

“Do you want to come in?” You hesitate, and his mouth twists as he straightens. He’s tall.

No surprise there. The only surprise should be that your omega is reacting to his height.

“You’re not on suppressants,” he starts, forming into a mother hen. “You have to be on suppressants.”

God, you can’t even tell how much time has passed since the accident and he’s already making a list, throwing you into the omega life. And besides, it’s been like a week after you discharged? He was there every day at the hospital, but now that you could walk without any issues, he disappeared?

“I don’t want to be,” you protest. “Why do I have to? I’ve never—”

Oh. Right. Because you’re different now. You sigh at the thought of the mundane life escaping further from your grasp. “Do I have to, though? Is there no other option around it?”

That makes Taehyung pause from the doorway, and he turns around.

“There’s this thing,” he starts, swallowing. “Called scenting. And you have a scent that can draw Alphas—”

“But you smell, too,” you wrinkle your nose. “And nobody attacks you or anything—”

“It’s not safe,” he repeats, but there’s a layer underneath it. Dangerous. Possessive. Raw. He growls, and you melt in his arms. Into a puddle of arousal, with the slick gushing out of you and the way your gut is aching.

“Omega,” he thunders, and something shifts. He’s inching closer, and in the next moment, Taehyung’s kissing your jaw. Groaning. Murmuring, Omega. Let me scent you.

And you tell him—Yes. And when his mouth covers your gland and sucks, you cry out and clutch his arms.

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans once more. His teeth scrape the back of your neck, where your gland is located, and you babble incoherent words. “Omega. You smell so good. Taste fucking delicious.”

This is not a good idea.

But it’s one that your heart wants.

Taehyung knows he should contain himself. He has to be the alpha that helps his best friend find a suitable companion. But he can’t help but think that you’re his omega, no matter how much he attempts to think otherwise. He doesn’t want to ruin the dynamic he has with you, but goddamn, he’s attuned to every one of your movements. Like the way you’re curled up against him as the movie plays, legs on top of his own, and head leaning against his chest. There are small, barely audible throaty sounds coming from you as you watch the couple fight, clearly disliking it. And he can’t help but wonder how it feels to suck on your gland again until you’re smothered in his scent.

Then he can’t help but imagine you under him, knotted and preening. He already knows you’re vocal with your whimpers and sighs—and if you can’t stop squirming, he’ll pin you to the bed and bite your glands on your wrists… and rut into you. Fuck, he might not even be able to pull out to thrust back in.

“Taehyung?” You murmur, eyes wide and innocent, most likely catching the way he stared at you. Like he wanted to devour you.

In return, the alpha mumbles your name and rests his forehead on your shoulder. It’s hell, he thinks, jaw clenching. You’re wearing his hoodie and no shorts under it, and he’s breathing in your lavender scent, mind repeating: this is hell, but also what content is like.

It’s insane, how much comfort you bring. You brought it as a beta, but you’re also bringing it as an omega. Taehyung kisses your cheek and embraces you, closing his eyes for a second. The fact that you’re alive and breathing under him—that is enough. It’s all he can ever ask of you, to just keep smiling at him.

There are some things that changed about him. He started—and he knows that you noticed—calling you love, or baby. He buries his head in the crook of your neck constantly, making sure you smell like him and he you. Satisfaction thrums through Taehyung’s veins when he can smell himself on you.

Knowing that scenting you earlier meant that you belonged to him. That all his members could smell who you belonged to. His Alpha loves it, too, instead of thrashing around and causing anxiety. Finally, his head quiets. No thoughts about coming home, taking care of you, making sure you’re well fed, rings through his mind.

“I have something to tell you,” he blurts, and you glance up.

Fuck. He can’t take it anymore. Screw company guidelines. Screw what people thinks. He wants you. All of you.

You’re his happiness; there’s no doubt in his mind that fate put you together.

“I love you,” he murmurs, placing your hand over his chest, directly where your heartbeat is. “You’re everything to me. My whole world. My—”

“Your omega?”

“My omega. Just like I’m yours, too.”

tags: @theblueslytherin @tatyhend @tinyoonsblog @vsmith0099 @midnightsora @cupcakesxdomjoon @likeshatteredrainbowglass @scuzmunkie @kookiwu @xjiminsthighsx @dreadity @lovelytaes-blog @noooodlllleeee @ggukkieland @namjoonshug @jaiuneamesolitaiire @hesmyphenominiall @hollyweird0

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victoirey · 1 year

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♥︎. REQUESTS I HAVE NO IDEAS FOR —

to the senders of these requests, hi! unfortunately, either due to the fact your request didn't sit right with me or I simply didn't have any ideas — I decided to post your ideas on my account so that people who do have ideas can write those ideas :) thank you!

request one : neytiri and jake break up because jake wanted to leave , however neytiri didn't. so instead of both jake and neytiri going, it's just jake and his family moving to awa'atlu. jake meets metkayina!reader and they click immediately.

— requested by anonymous.

request two : avatar quaritch x reader— in which readers clan was killed by the sky people and reader sees quaritch flying away at the end of the movie. readers first instinct is to kill quaritch, but he is too weak to fight. the reader forces quaritch to fight until they realize there's no honor killing a dead man. reader is quaritch's ticket to getting out of the area he's in, so he charms the reader and befriends them. slowly but surely, quaritch's motives go from killing jake/his family to them.

requested by : @vampire-hunter

request three : jake sully x reader in which reader is a halfbreed— they're human sized, has a queue, and a few blue spots as they were experimented on. basically how jake and them fall in love, and a bunch of cute moments because he's twice their size and hugs them too hard or ends up unable to kiss them because of the height difference.

requested by: @as-lost-as-sams-shoe

request four : na'vi quaritch having a familial bond with a captured na'vi child (reader). he realizes he begins to care for reader and detests it— but refuses to let the kid be tortured by humans.

requested by: anonymous.

request five: you grow up with the sullys— raised a human, raised like spider was— you get jealous over neteyams interactions with tsireya. neteyam x reader.

requested by: anonymous.

request six : "hey could I request a neteyam x male na'vi reader?? maybe he has a breakdown or an anxiety/panic attack after something happened to one of his siblings and the reader helps him ?? thanks !!"

requested by: anonymous.

request seven : "omgmg could I please ask for lo’ak or neteyem w/ reader who’s normally a ball of energy but spends a lot of time alone/is secretly very melancholy a lot of the time?? Idk how to explain it!! I personally tend to put on a bubbly personality around others, but I spend a lot of time alone feeling gloomy. So it’s nice when someone can appreciate both or see through the bubblyness!"

requested by : @|forever-paramore28

request eight: "hello hello! ive been admiring your writing for quite some time now and i was so excited to see your requests have opened ! do you think you could do a tsu’tey’s daughter! reader insert x neteyam? wym tsu’tey died lmao that’s so funny anyways, maybe him and ninat got together and had reader, a sweet looking omaticayan that was taught everything by tsu’tey when it comes to warfare and defense while also having knowledge of the traditions of singing, making beads, and etc. ? just reader being an absolute all rounder. this makes her looked up to and admired among her peers and regarded by adults as a tsahik in the making? maybe she is betrothed to neteyam and despite some complaints (mainly from protective dad tsu’tey bc excuse me thats my baby????) they actually hit it off really well and balance each other out. when the threat of quaritch comes around again, tsu’tey decides to send reader off with the sully’s for her safety. maybe ao’nung, being the lil shit he was, would often make moves on the reader bc he thought he had a chance with her before neteyam gets involved and firmly introduces reader again as his future tsahik and betrothed? idk man protective mfs >>>>>>"

requested by : anon ( thank you for the compliments nonnie. I'm happy that you admire my writing <3)

request nine : "can I request some headcanons for the Sully fam x half bread!reader and by half breed I mean not from avatars but like a lab made baby who looks human, maybe has white hair due to testings and surgeries and can breathe the planet's air since if the humans r making pandora their new home, they gonna try find ways to breathe in the planet's air. Just headcanons about reader going into the forest and stumbling upon the kids and Spider and then noticing shes breathing the air and has cuts n bruises all over her cuz of testing n shi and how the Sullys save and adopt her from the scientists 🤔?"

requested by : anon

request ten : "it’s the tsu’tey daughter! reader insert x neteyam anon again! sorry i sent it way too soon 🥲 maybe after that, the scene where neteyam is supposed to die, reader is beside him and she goes absolutely ballistic and goes ham on the recom na’vis like neytiri did bc 💅🏻 ofc she does my lil girl boss pookie wookie, HAPPY ENDING PLEASE LORD I HAVE HAD ENOUGH TEARS TO SHED"

requested by : anon

my apologies I wasn't able to fulfill these requests as you expected me to, but I am sure someone else could bring your ideas to fruition!!

♡. maggie

#jake sully x reader #jake sully #avatar jake sully #james cameron avatar #avatar quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #na'vi quaritch #miles quaritch #neytiri #awow #avatar way of water #fanfiction ideas #fanfic ideas #ideas

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transfemlogan · 2 months

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(both the same image one is underwater though)

@warnadudenexttime wanted me to do this so I did :3

IF YOU KNOW ME you know I don't have headcanons like normal, regular people. they jump around depending on the scenario or AU or fic. i don't keep one hc for everything. so this was a little hard to do because of how much my ideas will change brcause of the fucking phases of the moon but I tried my best :3

there is not age or height difference because they are the same person. whether or not ones older or taller changes on whatever, i don't enjoy like... only ONE height hc. i have multiple!!

OKAY MAIN LOVE LANGUAGES: I think Virgil's would be quality time. i thibk he loves to sit next to someone and scroll on his phone, while they do something else. he's a parallel play master. PLUS, this is shown at the ending of my negative thinking, when Virgil is just listening to music next to Logan silently in the living room. once he felt comfortable around Logan, he spent time with him. like . a cat.

i think logan's love language would be acts of service. i think logan wants to do everything for virgil. which is also shown in Fitting In, when Logan dresses up and plays along just to help Virgil feel more comfortable. I think Logan likes showing his love through actions because they don't require words & because he, someone who does a lot every day for people, knows how relaxing it can be to have someone else take care of you. i also think he likes it as a way to show Virgil how much he is appreciated and wanted here.

PET NAMES: I think Virgil uses silly petnames all of the time. i know i've already talked about this 20 million times, but his favourite is babygirl. he will call logan baby & babygirl for the rest of his life. (logan says he hates it but we all know the truth.) i can also see Virgil using those like, really cringey ? petnames idk the word. in private to be silly and embarrass logan. he's like "hey, pumpkin. my snookums." "my shmoopie"

(virgil: hey, pookie, we still on for our date?

logan: not anymore if you keep calling me that.

virgil: sorry .... snookums. my shmoopsiepoopsie pie.

logan: im throwing my book at you.)

i think Logan wouldn't really use pet names, but casual classic names, if he ever does. like dear. or sweetheart if he's feeling really sappy. i think Logan enjoys calling Virgil by his name or nickname, because he knows how much is held in that name. he wants virgil to know he likes it and that he's proud of him for telling them all.

catch logan cradling virgil's face in his hands and saying his name with such sincerity and care.

JEALOUSY: i think they both get jealous Super easily and need a lot of attention afterwards. some guy flirts with virgil and logans crossing his arms and pouting. virgil laughs and coos and holds his hand the rest of the day. someone asks for logan's number and virgils grabbing him closer and hissing at the stranger. logan kisses his forehead and rubs his shoulder. i do think logan gets jealous way more though.

EXPRESSING AFFECTION: i think they're both super reserved with their affection, but Virgil prefers physical contact while Logan prefers words. Virgil probably fixes Logan's tie or brushes his hair back casually. i think Virgil loves to cuddle with Logan and hold him close. & i think logan knows virgil needs verbal confirmation abt things. esp like at the end if my negative thinking, when he compliments him.

ATTACHMENT: i think they are incredibly overprotective of each other. they both know what the other has been through and how they've been treated. logan defending vitgil with his entire fucking life after AA & virgil defending logan in current episodes (if thomas had not destroyed analogical friendship directly in front of my eyes).

NOW FOR. THE MIDDLE PART.

confesses first: I think virgil would confess first only because he'd want to "rip the bandaid off" like he did with his name. i think logan would keep everything inside of him forever & never let virgil know anything ever about his feelings for him. so it would have to be virgil.

intiates first kiss: once again, it's virgil. logan is a little loser who probably shakes and gets red in the face when virgil sits near him. i also think logan might not want to in fear of making virgil uncomfortable and feel rushed, so he lets virgil do it first, but virgil is also worried about making logan uncomfortable and feel rushed so he lets logan do it forst and therefore neither of them kiss for A While until virgil finally does it like 2 months into their relationship. they are idiots and losers.

says i love you first: I THINK THEY'D BOTH SAY IT FIRST. i think logan would be very vocal about his feelings for virgil, in a very awkward nerdy way, because he's always vocal with how he feels about virgil. he wants him to know that he is loved & cared for & i bet he's said that he loves virgil before they even started dating. i also think virgil would say it at first in like a silly, joking way that could be played off as him being silly & joking before they start dating & then slowly saying more seriously & then saying it 100% serious when they start dating while he's all nervous & fidgeting & logan's just "yes. i know. you've told me that many times over the years. i love you too."

big spoon: virgils the big spoon. i dont care. i dontcare what any of you say. virgil could be the shortest man ever and still want to curl up around logan. i think logan likes being in virgils arms and i think virgil is so protective of logan that he wants to hold him in his arms so he knows nothing is going to happsn.

(logan: virge, please— i would... like to hold you in my arms at one point in our relationship.

virgil: absolutely not. what if something happens and i cant do anything because you're holding me. im holding you for-fucking-ever, baby

logan: what happens if something happens to y—

virgil: unrealistic. now come here.)

worrier: do i need to explain this one. hes got anxiety guys idk what else 2 explain.

better with money: logan probably writes out all his expenses in a little notepad & virgil runs to hot topic and 7-11 as soon as he gets a pay check so he can by another band t-shirt for 30 dollars & get a slurpee . it's his little boy treat. & then he's poor.

more experienced: NEITHER OF THEM THEY'RE BOTH NERDS WHO'VE NEVER TOUCHED ANOTHER MAN IN THEIR LIFE. they are awkward and strange but its ok. they talk about their relationship to the other sides and they all stare at each other like "why are they like 2 middle school boys in love for the first time" & thats because they are in fact 2 middle school boys in love for the first tims.

wakes up first: logan has an alarm & virgils been awake the entire night & has not slept in 20 hours

steals blankets: somehow, despite originally curled up around logan, logan Always wakes up to virgil being curled up in their blankets while he's freezing. even on movie nightnor when they're just sitting next to each other, virgil will snatch the blanket away

normally cooks: i think they both want to cook for the other and care for each other. you know that orange trend oj tik tok where couples will say they want an orange but dont want to peel it & it's supposed 2 see if the other person will peel it for them. logan's that green flag consistantly. virgil doesn't even have to say he doesn't want to peel an orange. he will pick up an orange & logan will teleport into the room going "do you need that peeled? let me do that for you." virgil's consistantly asking logan if he's hungry and bringing him snacks. they could be Anywhere & virgil will go "have you eaten or have you just been working all day?" & pull out a fucking granola bar from his pocket & force logan to eat it. they hang out & the 1st thing virgil does is get logan food. virgil will and has tied logan down to feed him food. it was a very strange convo when patton walked in on virgil straddling logan on the couch and spoonfeeding him soup.

And LASTLY... 3 SONGS FOR THEM. my analogical playlist remake is still in the works, but

arms tonite by mother mother — i think it could work in the perspective of either logan or virgil

And hey, you, don't you think it's kinda cute / That I (I) died (died) right inside your arms tonight? / That I'm fine even after I have died? / Because it was in your arms I died

I cry hard because I have died, and you're alive / I try to escape afterlife / I try hard to get back inside your arms alive

first date by blink-182 — 100% virgil's nervous rambling

Is it cool if I hold your hand? t Is it wrong if I think it's lame to dance? / Do you like my stupid hair? / Would you guess that I didn't know what to wear? / I'm just scared of what you think / You make me nervous so I really can't eat

When you smile, I melt inside / I'm not worthy for a minute of your time / I really wish it was only me and you / I'm jealous of everybody in the room

loser by sunday cruise — i can see this as a pre-aa analogical song

I don't care much about you / But I wouldn’t mind if you liked me too / Kisses on your hands, meet me in the bathroom / I wanna be alone with you

I’m a loser just like you / Way too scared, too confused

#THIS GOT SOO LONG BUT I WANGE D2 EXPLAIN EVERYTHING #sanders sides #analogical #logan #virgil

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andreafmn · 7 months

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Kinktober ⛓ Day 1

Word Count: 5.1K Paring: Avatar!Jake Sully x Fem!Human!Reader, Human!Jake Sully x Fem!Human!Reader Prompt @kinktober2023: Macro/Micro WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), oral sex (male and female receiving), significant size difference, interspecies sex, fingering, p-in-v sex

Summary: Jake Sully and (Y/N) came to Pandora in the ISV Venture Star as part of the same research team. From an early stage, the pair got on well, and everyone could see that. But there were certain proclivities that they reserved for each other.

A/N: your eyes do not deceive you, I am taking on the Kinktober challenge for the very first time. First off the bat, I will probably not post it consistently but I will finish it even if it takes me until the end of the year. Second, they're gonna be Fem!Reader just because it is easiest for me to write (and I'm sorta being selfish with my first Kinktober). Also, I will post on my original schedule as well even if it kills me. Hope y'all enjoy this as much as I'm enjoying writing it!🤭🤭 Sorry not sorry for this shitshow 🫣🫣

Next ->

Working in Pandora was everything (Y/N) had dreamed of since she was a little girl. Her parents had been members of the RDA research team and had brought up inside her a love for the alien planet and its inhabitants. Especially its inhabitants.

From a young age, she had studied the foreign creatures. Their blue skin, their pointy ears, their swishing tails, and their massive height. She imagined what it would be like to be in their bodies. To have a connection to her Mother Earth as they did. What it would be like to live amongst the wonders of that planet.

Because of her proclivities as a child, it came as no surprise that the girl trained her entire life to join the RDA’s Avatar program. (Y/N) was the youngest of the group. Her intelligence and wit propelled her forward quickly and with few obstacles in her career, and she joined the pioneer program as a scientist first and an Avatar driver second.

It was the day they were meant to be put into cryosleep that (Y/N) saw one Jake Sully for the first time. He had rolled into the port with a sour look on his face, as though he was unsure why he was there. But she knew. Everyone in their research team did.

Losing his twin brother, Tom, had been a devastation like no other for their small team. And when an identical copy of him had come in his place, it had sent them reeling. She had listened to Norm Spellman drone on and on about how unfair it was that Jake was allowed to join the team with no scientific experience and even less training with an Avatar. But the military had dug its claws into their work, and there was nothing they could do. If Jake hadn’t come, Tommy’s Avatar would have been forever condemned to a conservation tank. A body with no soul to wield it.

She smiled at him from afar, gifting him with a small wave as Norm stood scowling beside her. She had no qualms about the man and felt no need to treat him with any disdain. Though she had to admit, the uncanny resemblance to their friend was rather eerie. The brothers might have looked the same, yet they certainly were not the same. But it would take six years for (Y/N) to come to any conclusions about Jake.

When they awoke from cryosleep years later, (Y/N) had been the one to calm Jake during their first Avatar run. Unable to control the massive body of the creature, he stumbled in the exam room as the doctors tried to check his vitals. With his returned ability to walk, the excitement had built inside him, and there was no way he could stay still.

Norm had run behind Jake as he emerged into Pandora, but he struggled on his feet as he wielded the new shape. (Y/N), on the other hand, had taken full control of her Avatar. She heard the commotion from the other room and went to follow it, finding a blue Jake in a hospital gown running into the courtyard.

Where Norm failed, (Y/N) succeeded, catching up to the man as his feet dug into the cold Pandorian soil. “Hey, Jake!” she called. “Someone’s excited, huh?”

“You can say that again,” he chuckled, turning toward her. “You’re (Y/N), right? I saw you when we boarded the ship.”

“The one and only,” she smiled before taking hold of a Spartan fruit and throwing it in his direction. “Think fast!”

Jake caught the purple fruit easily, biting into it and staring surprisedly as it burst all over his face. She joined his side, taking a fruit for herself.

“This is delicious,” he sighed pleasurably. “I didn’t know it would be this good.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about, Jake Sully,” (Y/N) smiled. “Thankfully, you have an amazing team behind you that will help you learn about this amazing world.”

“And will you be there to help?”

“Well, I am in your research team, so that would be a yes.”

“How lucky am I?” Jake said, a playful grin splayed across his face. “Well, if your tutoring sessions are as good as you are beautiful, I think I might become an expert in no time.”

“What a charmer,” she chuckled. “But you should know that I am known to be quite a ruthless teacher. I am a bit rough when it comes to teaching about this planet.”

“I never expected you to be,” he responded before leaning into her. “And I like it rough.”

In the coming weeks, Jake and (Y/N) grew closer, both as Avatars and as humans. When they were on break, one would not be seen without the other. They had become inseparable, and no one at the base could deny the intense chemistry that flowed between them. And within the confines of the link station in Site 26, it was undeniable that something was brewing between them. No one could deny it. Not even them.

What had become almost impossible was acting upon their desires when their duties took up so much of their time. While Jake gained the trust of the Omatikaya people, (Y/N) would busy herself with her scavenging and her lab tests. And when one was inhabiting their Avatar, the other was back in their human body.

But that would prove to not be much of a problem.

(Y/N)’s fascination with the Na’vi went farther than she would ever admit out loud. It had started innocently enough. A simple curiosity about the alien creatures that populated the planet her parents studied. But as she grew, her curiosity seemed to transform into something… less than innocent.

There was something about their gigantic bodies compared to the smallness of her human one that sparked something inside her that she could not extinguish. In the late hours of the night, before anyone had connected with their Avatars, (Y/N) would spend hours upon hours inspecting their bodies inside their conservation tanks.

Tom’s Avatar–now Jake’s– was a favorite of hers to stare at. She studied every curve and line of his muscles, the valley of his blue skin, the stretch of his body, the plumpness of his lips, and the size of his member. The first time she had seen it, it had made her mouth water and her heart flutter. There was something about the way the blue body almost doubled her in size that set off a fire inside her. She wanted to know what it would feel like for those long arms to wrap around her, how he could probably pick her up with just one arm, how he could probably stretch her out more than any man could ever do.

When the thoughts had popped into her head, they had startled her. They made her feel as though there was something wrong with her. Not only was she thinking of a creature that was massive in comparison to her, but she was thinking about interspecies relations. Because her fantasies didn’t involve her Avatar. No. Her mind created images of her small human body and the blue people of Pandora.

What she didn’t know was that she was not the only one plagued with those thoughts. When Jake had first seen (Y/N) while in his Avatar body, something had stirred deep within him. It had taken everything inside him not to make a move on her. She looked so small that he knew he could if he really wanted to. Jake could feel warmth traveling between his legs, pressing onto the fabric of his clothing as his cock hardened.

But neither one acted upon their desires. Each thought themselves to be depraved and slightly sexually repressed, and believed that even talking about those fantasies was bad enough. And there was no way they could do anything with Grace and Norm always around. They both believed they’d be burdened with their thoughts for the rest of time.

As luck would have it, or rather as Eywa had allowed in her divine timing, a day came were only (Y/N) was left in the link pod. She had been tasked with labeling samples and documenting findings while Grace and Norm scavenged the forest as humans –claiming they needed to give their bodies a nice stretch. She had been focused on her work, engrossed in paper after paper, slide after slide. It had been what she had come to Pandora to do, but she couldn’t help but feel a little jealous that she wasn’t the one amongst the Omatikaya.

She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice when the nine-foot blue Na’vi walked into the too-small-for-him shack. It wasn’t until he knocked over their breakfast plates from the counter that she turned to find the man standing inside.

“May I ask what gave you the brilliant idea to get in here with that body?”

“I needed to see you,” Jake responded rather breathlessly. “I thought it was big enough for me to fit.”

“Your body is literally less than ten feet away from me in the pod, Jake,” she chuckled. “All you had to do was wake up.”

“I-I… I couldn’t.”

“What do you mean?” (Y/N) worried. There was a slight desperation in Jake’s voice, accompanied by a glaze in his eyes that concerned her. “Is everything alright?”

“I need you, (Y/N),” he blurted as he took tentative steps toward her, careful to mind his head.

“What do you need from me, Jake? Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he responded. His tone got darker, laced with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint. “I need you.”

As he essentially growled those words, (Y/N) eyes examined his body for any sign that he could have been wounded in any way. The word, “Oh?” escaped her mouth barely above a whisper as she tried to understand where Jake was coming from. His head seemed fine. So did his arms and his torso. It was when her gaze fell on the space between his thighs that was covered with the brown loincloth that she finally understood what it was that he needed.

“Oh,” she said louder. The fabric that covered him was tighter than usual, tented by something thick and hard that was being held back by the covering. “You’re… I don’t… how am I supposed to help you with that, Jake?”

“I’ve tried to make it go away, but it honestly just keeps getting worse. I feel like my entire body is on fire.”

“I think you might be in rut, Jake.”

“What is that?”

“In heat,” she said, slightly embarrassed at the words. “It means that your body is going through a stage where it wants to find a mate and breed.”

“And how long is it supposed to last?”

“It could last from one to four days, but I can’t be too certain about it. It’s not a well-researched topic,” (Y/N) explained. “What I could suggest is that you find somewhere to ride this out. Possibly a very cold river. Or you could find someone to ride it out with at the village. I know the Omatikaya value their vows and loyalty, but I’m sure a guy like you could persuade anyone.”

“But I don’t want anyone back in the village. In fact, I have just the person in mind.” (Y/N) couldn’t help but not the darkness that now clouded Jake’s eyes. The yellow irises were trained on her, looking her up and down as though they could see through her clothing. “All I need to know is if she wants it right back.”

She was dumbfounded. Completely perplexed at his words. He couldn’t have been asking what she thought he was. If he was, (Y/N) was sure she was dreaming. “Jake, I… I can’t help you right now. It’s almost impossible,” she stammered before remaining quiet for a moment. “I could hop on my link pod and help you out that way if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t think you’re understanding me, (Y/N),” he growled. Jake had closed the space between them now, and he towered over her even in his hunched position. “I don’t want your Avatar. I want you.”

(Y/N) stumbled backward, her back hitting the desk as she tried to put some distance between them. Jake was simply acting on a lust-fueled brain. He wasn’t thinking clearly. And as much as she wanted what he was asking for, she wouldn’t let him regret it later. “Look, Jake. I don’t think you’re thinking clearly right now,” she chuckled awkwardly. “You probably woke up alone, and your head brought you unconsciously here. Why don’t you just go back to sleep and unlink? It might help you cool down a bit.”

“I know you want this too, (Y/N),” he whispered. “I can smell it on you.”

At those words, the woman clenched her thighs together. Her body reactions were something she could not deny, and his keen senses had picked up on it. Her breathing became staggered and her chest heaved as she felt the warmth of Jake’s body so close to her it was almost as though they were touching.

“I know you want to try this,” Jake said. “I used to watch you back at Hell’s Gate. The night before we finally linked, you were staring at this very body you see before you. Your skin was flushed, and you were heaving–kind of like you are now. Then, when you went back to your room, I heard you. The RDA might have a lot of funding, but they definitely did not invest it in thick walls.”

“I wasn’t…”

“But you were, (Y/N),” he grinned devilishly. “I heard every single sound that escaped from your mouth that night. And I’m pretty sure I know exactly what you were imagining.”

“Oh, yeah?” she said, feeling slightly bold. “What was it then?”

“This very cock,” he responded as he palmed the hardened bulge between his legs. “Buried deep inside your human body.”

Her breath got hitched in her throat, tightening her windpipe as Jake worded everything that was running through her head. “W-what’re you s-saying?” she stammered. “How could you know any of that?”

“Well, other than the way your body is reacting right now,” he grinned, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. “And because I’ve been dreaming of the same thing.”

“Jake,” she gasped.

“And if I had known you were thinking of this too, I would have jumped at the opportunity the very first time,” he growled. “Now, come here.”

(Y/N) didn’t know what had taken her over, but she walked toward Jake’s Avatar. He was kneeling on the ground, sitting on his ankles, his legs spread far enough for her to fit between them. Her hands ran across his exposed chest, taking the dagger sling that was draped around him off. She trailed the features of his face with her fingers, drinking in the closeness she could not get when the body was in the tank. She traced the eyebrows above his yellow eyes, the wideness of the bridge of his nose, the curve of his lips, the white spotted freckles, and played with the braids that fell on his face.”

“You having fun there?” Jake chuckled, bringing her attention back to the moment. “As much as I’m enjoying your little curiosity delineation, I don’t know how that helps my little problem down there.”

“It’s not little,” she breathed. “Really not little.”

“And what are you gonna do about it?” he said, placing a finger under her chin to fix her gaze on him. A finger so big it looked like a hand cradling her face. “Because I have a few ideas of what you could do.”

“And what are they?”

“I want you to say what you would do.”

“I-I can’t,” (Y/N) muttered as embarrassment surged through her. She was certainly not inexperienced, but there was something about saying out loud what she had kept to herself for so long that made her close up. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You know what’s embarrassing? Running through the forest in this loincloth with a painful hard-on just so I could get to you,” he playfully growled. “Now. Tell me, what do you want?”

(Y/N) took a steadying breath before staring directly into Jake’s eyes and saying, “I want to rip that loincloth off your body and take what I can of you in my mouth and wrap my hands around your cock. Even if I can’t take you in completely, I will make sure no part remains untouched. And I want your mouth on my clit as you stretch me out with your fingers, prepping me to fit you inside.”

“Good girl,” he purred. “Now come here.”

Jake crashed his lips onto hers as best as he could, one of his hands wrapping around her waist to pull her closer. He was the first to moan into the kiss, the need inside him taking over and growing. The touch felt like fire, a burning desire that he wanted to feed, and she was just the accelerant he needed.

She was sweet and warm against him, and all he wanted to do was to learn how she felt everywhere else. Her smell was already intoxicating, and he needed to know just how addicting every other part of her would be.

“Lay down,” she instructed with a smile as she finally broke the kiss, skin flushed and lips red. “Careful you don’t bump into your own link pod. Might make this experience a bit different.”

“I’m just glad the hall is big enough for me,” he chuckled. “Wouldn’t want this to be interrupted by an oxygen machine.”

“Then let’s stop wasting time before you’re the one that might need a swig of CO2 to survive.”

“You’re the one with layers on, baby,” Jake grinned, slipping off the white lab coat that covered her. “If anyone is wasting time, it’s you.”

(Y/N) could only chuckle as she slipped off her t-shirt before shimmying out of her jeans, leaving her in a sports bra and a pair of cotton panties. She wished she had been wearing something sexier, maybe something that matched. But she knew it didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t be on for much longer. Jake made sure of that. With a quick stretch of his arm, both pieces of fabric were ripped off her body, exposing every inch of skin to him.

“You know, I don’t have much underwear here.”

“That’s fine. I don’t plan on letting you need it.”

He kissed her again, trying his best to convey all of his want through their lips. But he wanted more. He wanted her warmth around him, he wanted to stretch her in ways she had never imagined, he wanted to fill her with his seed. Even if he had no idea what could happen after.

But (Y/N) was the first one to move. She turned away from him and crawled down his massive torso, her eyes deadset on the painfully hard bulge that was being held back by the tight piece of fabric. Slowly, she undid the ties that held the loincloth together, slipping it off his body as she had done his sling. Only this time, a small gasp left her throat as his cock was finally released.

Jake’s erection flopped onto his stomach, beads of precum glistening on his purple-pink head. As she stared, his length twitched, and she couldn’t help but admire the specimen before her. Her scientific curiosity would always win. She got as close as possible without touching it, examining the veins, the stiffness, the length, the girth, and the shining tip that beckoned her closer.

“Please,” she heard Jake whimper. “Please.”

It was all he needed to say for (Y/N) to take hold of his cock with both of her hands and give him a tentative lick. She chuckled as he shuddered at her touch, reveling in the reactions she pulled from him. But what surprised her wasn’t his sounds. It was how easy it was to fit the tip of his cock in her mouth. (Y/N) thought she’d receive more fight from her body as she took his size, but it was almost as though she was made for him.

Unfortunately, though, her mouth was only big enough to take some of him in, but she gladly made up for it with her hands. She established a steady rhythm quickly, treading close to the line of his edge. (Y/N) took him as far as he could, hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed her head and using the mixture of her saliva and his own precum to aid her hands on the rest of his shaft.

What she had not expected was Jake’s hands holding her hips and sinking his mouth into her cunt. He did just as she had told him, working his tongue expertly across that needy bundle of nerves. Jake swirled and sucked, moaning as her taste flooded his tongue. And she would have been grateful for just that touch, until she felt one of his fingers enter her.

“Oh, fuck,” (Y/N) slurred out, releasing Jake for a second. “It feels so fucking good.”

“That’s just one finger, baby,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna need you to hold on for more.”

“Then, hurry,” she whined. “I want the real thing inside me already.”

With another hearty chuckle, Jake set off to work. He pumped his finger into her, listening to her sounds as a guideline. Once he felt her stretched enough, he slipped another digit, earning him her first orgasm. Her walls clenched around the two fingers, her throat accompanying the flutter with a string of beautiful pleasurable moans. A beautiful song that made Jake’s ears twitch.

As the Avatar continued to work, (Y/N) grew sloppier in her ministrations. Her entire concentration had shifted to the intense burning between her legs as Jake stretched her more and more, adding yet another of his large fingers as he lapped at the sensitive bud just above her entrance. It was as though her body had skipped the uncomfortable stage and had delved directly into the mind-numbing satisfaction.

“Jake,” she moaned. “Jake, I need you inside.”

“Not yet,” he muttered against her. “Fuck, you taste so good.”

Jake was entranced with her body. Worshiping the smaller figure before him. If Eywa decided to take him right there and then, he would have died a satisfied man. But it was her turn to beg for more. “Jake, please,” she said. “I want to cum around you.”

And who was he to deny her pleading? With another gusto-filled lick to her core, Jake removed his fingers, watching as (Y/N) walked toward him. But the gasp that came from her mouth as he took his fingers into his mouth and savored her once more was what brought a shit-eating grin onto his face. He wanted to have that memory tattooed into his brain for the rest of his life. The way her body glimmered with sweat, the way her chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing, the way her eyes had darkened with lust as she drank the sight of him.

“Take it slow,” he commanded as the woman positioned herself right above his cock. With one hand, she grabbed his length, holding it just below her entrance. With the other, she kept her balance as she pressed it against his toned chest. “Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I don’t know how much slower I can take it,” she teased. “We’ve already waited two months to do this when we could have been doing it the entire time.”

“I’m pretty sure we would have been in a lot of trouble if someone had caught us. It must be against some type of rule.”

“Since when do you care about the rules?”

“I don’t,” Jake cockily grinned. “That’s why we’re fucking right now.”

“We’re not fucking yet.” She took the moment he laughed to finally sink her body onto the giant’s cock, slowly inching down as far as her body could take him. (Y/N) felt something inside her burst, filling her with an overwhelming euphoria that she didn’t know how she had ever orgasmed with another man before. “Now we’re fucking.”

“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” Jake moaned. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” she said breathlessly. “It feels amazing!”

“If you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not gonna last long, (Y/N).”

“I can’t help it,” she moaned as she felt comfortable enough to slowly bounce on his lap. “It just feels too good.”

“I wanna make this moment last, baby,” he purred against her ear as he tried to delay his finish. “Fuck… you gotta go slower.”

“I really can’t, Jake,” (Y/N) moaned, moving her hips faster and faster as she felt warmth pooling deep inside her. “And we don’t have much time left. Grace and Norm will be back any… fuck… any minute.”

“Damn it,” the man cursed. “You’re gonna make me look like a high school boy blowing too early.”

“Luckily, I won’t have anyone to tell,” she teased. “But don’t worry, I’ll know I never gave you a chance.”

Her pace was punishing now. It didn’t even allow Jake to join in the movements, his entire mind concentrating on making the moment last as long as possible. But the attack on her part was calculated and brutal, searching for their mutual ends as quickly as she could.

(Y/N)’s hips moved on her own, raising and falling from what she could take of his cock, her mind focused on the one thing he didn’t want just yet. She wanted to combust around him. Wanted to feel him come undone inside her. To, for just a second, have something of an aberration inside, to imagine that two completely different species could ever come together.

The more she moved, the more her insides squeezed the blue creature’s shaft. Every second that passed brought them closer and closer to the inevitable end.

“I’m close,” (Y/N) moaned. “Fuck, Jake, I’m so close.”

“I know, baby,” he groaned in response. “I’m close too.”

It wasn’t long until (Y/N) was screaming the man’s name and dropping onto his chest as her orgasm rippled through her body like it had never done before. And while she shook in the intensity, Jake brought it upon himself to search for his finish, plunging his hips as deep as he could into her until he felt his cock release everything he had inside of her, filling her until he could feel their essences dripping out of her.

“I wish we could have done this outside,” she muttered against him as she recovered her strength. His softening cock was still buried deep within her cunt as he softly rutted against her while riding out their orgasms. “It would have been such a completely different experience.”

“You’re right. But then, I couldn’t have done this,” he smiled as he kissed her lips tenderly, basking in the taste of her mouth. “And I would have died if I couldn’t have.”

“I would have too,” (Y/N) said, returning the smile and another chaste kiss. “I also wish we could stay like this forever. But you need to go, Jake.”

“A couple more minutes,” he groaned, letting his head fall back onto the metal floor. “I just wanna forget that the rest of the world exists for a couple of more minutes.”

With a chuckle, (Y/N) granted him that prayer. It was the only thing she could. She ran her fingers across his queue as his large fingers traced shapes against the skin of her back. And for those next few minutes, it truly felt like it was only them.

But all good things come to an end, and (Y/N) noticed the clock on the wall was at seventeen hundred hours and the two other scientists would be coming back any second. She scrambled to her feet, groaning as Jake exited her body, the stretch contracting slightly but still aching inside her.

“Go back to the village,” (Y/N) instructed as she cleaned them both up with a towel and dressed. “We’ll talk when you’re out of the pod, okay?”

“I’ll see you tonight, baby,” he smiled, giving her one last kiss before he left the far too cramped shack.

If Grace and Norm had found anything awry in there when they came back from their scavenging, they did not mention it. They went about the rest of their day, documenting their samples and writing their daily logs. The only time they seemed to talk to (Y/N) was during dinner time, but there wasn’t much she could say about her day. And, thankfully, they didn’t ask much, too exhausted from their day to stay awake for much longer. Once the younger scientist announced she’d wait up for Jake, the pair left for their respective beds to sleep the day away.

That night, when Jake finally opened his link pod, (Y/N) was waiting with a giant smile on her face. She waited until he was on his chair and rolled to the small dining table, where a plate of hot food was waiting for him.

“Hey, marine,” she smiled.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Thought you might be hungry,” (Y/N) chuckled. “I heard you had a busy day.”

“You heard that through the grapevine, huh?” Jake snickered. “I will admit, I had a very busy day.”

“Hm, the Omatikaya are working you harder than expected?”

“If only they had been the ones that took my time today,” he responded before motioning for her to sit on his lap. “But no, I spent the day with a very beautiful but small woman that blew my mind away. No pun intended.”

(Y/N) kissed him tenderly, making note of just how different it felt to kiss him as a human. “Well, you blew her mind away as well,” she smiled. “Pun intended.”

“You know, if we’d only talked about this, we could have done this so long ago,” he whispered, his forehead pressed against hers. “But at least we finally did.”

“We really did, huh?” she chuckled. “Now, all we have to do is check when’s the next time?”

“Insatiable, are we?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

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