#anyways I feel like she is so deeply human

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

[Please read while listening to this.]

IF THERE WERE TRUTH IN REINCARNATION, you would beg to be reborn as a kitten. A cherished kitten who was allowed to sit on a human's lap whenever looking for warmth. Perhaps if people saw you as a nice, furry creature acting cute, they wouldn't hurt you. Perhaps if they thought of you as a creature simpler to understand, they wouldn't abandon you.

Being a human child is weary work. They say you were created from the proof of love between two inseparable people; your very breath is a testament to their unbreakable union. And your identity is sculpted by the undeniable beauty they believed the world possessed, compelling them to bring forth new life to share in the splendor of it all.

So, who are you now after they've parted ways? Father was no longer just your father; he had formed a new family with another two daughters as evidence of his love for a woman who wasn't your mother. You are no longer his favorite, and surely you are not the only one. Meanwhile, Mother is only left as a vengeful woman, reacting with anger each time she glimpses traces of your father in you—in your words, mannerisms, or even thoughts. Any divergence from her own beliefs, she considers defiance.

(Didn't you say, I am proof of their love? Don't you know, that promises can be broken and roots can be severed. Marriage should be forever until it isn't. Then, who am I if they are no longer love each other?)

The pitiful child of man shuffled through the world; full of despair, without self-identity. Not daddy's little girl, no longer a copy of mommy. The soft hair that was once braided was more like a tapestry full of wounds piled up early on. However, no one knows this – they say, “What do little children know about adult problems?” and yet, your body ended up bleeding internally from continuously swallowing the thorns spit out by your two originators.

Forced to grow—my spine wasn't developed enough to be your pillars! Mature little girl.

If reincarnation is true, then, you hope to be placed in a kinder world. A place where happiness is within reach—where you will always be embraced by love. So you don't have to scavenge looking for it in everything.

In a kiss offered by a stranger.

The tea lies long abandoned on the coffee table, gone cold hours ago. Yet, the taste still lingers on his lips – bergamot and spice mingling with something uniquely him. Your eyes were tightly closed, but you could feel the warmth radiating from his approaching body. He places a hand under your chin to tilt your face, and he slides his tongue in with practiced ease. You breathe in his aroma deeply, and a thin cloud falls over your consciousness.

Simon kissed with quiet intensity, giving you the impression that it wasn't his first time. It doesn't matter; you already lost your first kiss to your high school crush anyway. But, when compared, this is nothing like the chaste, fleeting peck bestowed by Billy Thompson behind bleachers in junior year. That was a schoolgirl's kiss. This? This sets your blood ablaze.

Laid bare, you are. With your pleading love-me eyes—the gaping mouth of a virgin begging for someone to pour love into it until it hits the back of her throat, swallowed without a trace – “let me wash my esophagus with this. So that my future lovers don't find out how unlovable I am.” Some sort of ablution. And Simon becomes the all-compassionate man, volunteering for a play where he acts as your lover.

His tongue brushes against yours—a clumsy dance of your inexperience. But Simon took the lead, coaxing your shy response. Your hands crept up and clutched the sleeve of his leather jacket. As he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, warmth pooled in your lower abdomen.

This, you realize dimly, is what fills the pages of your well-worn romance books—passionate kisses and warm breaths mingling with each other. One difference is your lack of love for each other. It doesn't matter; after all, lust is a cheap substitute for love, just as searing.

(Starving people eat anything, right?)

When Simon put his big hands on your waist, you gasped and pushed him away. His brows were furrowed in confusion, but his eyes were waiting for you. Your cheeks reddened as you avoided his gaze.

“S-sorry…”

Simon watched patiently, his hands hovering but not crowding. A thought occurred to you—clumsy and awkward as you felt. You bit the inside of your cheek as you gathered your courage.

“I should, um, find...” Your voice fell to a whisper. "Contraception."

He just nodded, his expression carefully schooled. You got up from the couch, knees shaking, trying to ignore the embarrassing damp sensation between your legs, and ran towards the bedroom like a frightened doe.

As you searched through the dresser, you stumbled upon a sealed box beneath a pile of clothes. In a rush, you pulled out the box with fumbling fingers, barely managing to keep it from slipping from your grip. A small foil wrapper—a precaution purchased on a whim, “just in case” some imagined future occasion arose. Little did you know, that occasion would be this night with this stranger turned companion.

Through the door, you hear Simon's gentle footfalls approaching. Your heart threatens to jump from the confines of your ribs. Turning, you found him waiting for you, sitting at the end of the bed, pink sheets against his dark leather jacket.

Suddenly, the tiny foil packet feels heavy and itchy around your fingers. Gathering what little courage you have, you approach on unsteady legs and perch beside him, close but not quite touching. Your gaze was still on the carpet patterns, which looked strangely more interesting, while your hand reached out to hand him the small square.

Simon's eyes fell on the foil packet, staring at it like it was a foreign object. He looked up at you.

“You ever done this before?”

Your cheeks flushed with renewed shame at his question. “No, I haven't.”

The quiet confession hangs heavy in the air. You wait for him to take that little packet from you—part of you expects him to take advantage of your inexperience. Is that not what men do when presented with a willing body and an opportunity? A chance to take the lead, to act like they know everything—taking it from a girl and then going home to brag off to their equally asshole friends. As if their cocks were that great to be able to change a woman with just a few thrusts.

And while this may seem unjust, you can't help but generalize the rough types that frequent bars like the one you've both visited. Subconsciously, you make the same assumption about Simon.

But, he proved himself to be different. He confounds your expectations and judgment at every turn. Calming softness is the last thing you would expect from a hardened soldier like him. He has mapped every opening, joint, and gap in you that he may exploit against you—

And yet, when anyone else would seize the opportunity for easy pleasure, he pulls back, lost in his own thoughts that you can't begin to understand.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Might be better, your first time… if it's with someone important. Someone who'll treat you right."

"It's just sex."

Before you can stop yourself, the words escape your lips in a feeble attempt to contain the raging tempest of feelings inside. But even as you say that, you know in your heart it's not true. From the time you were a teenage girl singing cheesy songs and poring over fairytales, you've dreamed that your first time would be with a lover—someone you truly cared about, someone who dedicated their body to you out of love rather than simply lust. You’ve imagined yourself on your wedding night, sealing your bond in the most sacred ways.

Foolish, romantic notions, like a fragile dream, you know. And some small, still-hopeful part of you holds onto that fantasy, hoping it will come true. But that too erodes with time, evaporating more and farther from your grip until you are forced to settle for something within your reach. Desperation drives the unthinkable, right?

Another wave of silence between you. Simon hung his head low before taking the foil packet from your curled fingers. The bed creaks softly as he rises to tower over you. His strong hands are bracing the mattress on either side of you, caging in but not touching. Your heartbeat forms an accelerando as you hold your breath, peering up at him through your lashes to take in every detail you could in this dark room.

“Last chance, darling,” he rasps, searching your eyes. “Once we start, there's no taking it back.”

When he speaks, his breath washes hotly over your lips, and the gravel in his voice makes your insides clench. Supported only the dim light of the moon through the window for illumination, the lean muscles under his jacket looked more defined, and those irises seemed to darken with promise and more enigma.

You swallowed to relieve the sudden dryness in your throat. He's so hard to decode, and a small voice warns you not to mess with something you don't understand.

Something born of desperation takes hold of you. Before your courage fails you, you reach up to trace fingers along his stubbled jaw, feeling his muscles stiffen under your touch. Your lips came closer and pressed against his as a plea and answer. Heat floods your veins at the contact. Simon paused over you, letting you set the pace as your mouths moved together. His hands gently massaged the fat on your thighs, following the curve of your hips.

Simon's hands find purchase on your waist, thumbs tracing idle circles coaxing soft sighs from your lips. He deepens the kiss, and you follow gladly, clinging to his broad shoulders as he leans you back on the bed. Your heart is pounding wildly. He drags his lips to plant kisses, molding your body perfectly to his solid form.

Before he even stripped your clothes off, you already felt exposed in front of him. Your body isn't good with secrets; when he marks your pulse point with gentle suckles, you tangle your fingers in his dark blonde strands. His mouth ignited a flame against your flesh.

Some small, rational part of your mind screams this is madness. What will Mother say, when she finds yourself lost in the arms of a stranger, giving yourself so freely? “A man's heart is truly a wretched, wretched thing!” she kept repeating. But you're only borrowing this man's body and tonight, not his heart.

As Simon straightens above you, his hand flies to your jeans button with intent. Shyness overcame you in a sudden wave. “I-I'll do it,” you stuttered in a small voice, your cheeks burning.

Without waiting for his response, you sit up enough to fumble with the stubborn button with trembling fingers. Stupid pants. Why does it have to be difficult when you're desperate to shed these last few barriers between you? Sweaty fingers are slipping clumsily. Frustrated, you curse under your breath, the haste making your efforts futile.

A lifetime seems to pass before your buttons are finally free. Peeking through the gap, the plain white cotton is visible, trimmed with a small white satin ribbon at the waistband. Shit. If only you had known what tonight held in store, you'd have definitely chosen something lacier, sexier to match the mood.

Though, Simon didn't give any reaction other than maintaining his steady gaze at you. You again try to wiggle and squirm against the denim down your legs. Come on, come on, don't ruin the mood-

Before you could protest, his hand replaced yours. Large and sure, they grip your waist to guide you to lie down once again as he tugs the jeans free in one smooth motion. The denim hits the floor with a careless toss, leaving you with your top and the flimsy barrier that you put on without thinking. Instinctively, you squeeze your thighs together, acutely aware of your condition beneath his stare.

“Please don't look,” you plead shyly.

“Why?”

The single word rumbles out gruff, without judgment—too flat to contain one. He asked that in pure curiosity while continuing to stare at you.

“It's… embarrassing.” Your voice was small, almost a whisper as you avoided his gaze.

In truth, you feel naked in more ways than one. Between your legs, a dark spot has formed where your arousal has bled through the fabric and how it might disgust him. Your breasts feel heavy and sensitive where they strain against your bra. Every nerve is alive—hyper-focused on every minuscule movement and warm breath between you. It only took one touch from him to dissolve any remaining control.

The silence stretches while Simon is on his own agenda, studying you in considerations you don't understand.

“You want to stop, then?”

Simon's question sent a shot of panic through you. Stop now, even though you've just lost yourself in the sensation? When this man is the only person who can offer you the only scrap of comfort and care that you will never find again?

You shook your head vigorously. “No, please… don't stop.”

It was so embarrassing how your voice came out small and ragged—full of pleading for him not to lift his warm touch on your skin. To send him away from your bed now would be to return to the cold emptiness that has become your constant companion. He has seen half of you; might as well completely strip yourself for him and lose these foolish inhibitions. It seems that you too have no idea what moderation is; it was always all or nothing.

“Can’t reach your pretty cunny with your legs clenched shut, darling,”

Simon's coarse words spread a new flame to flare up in your cheeks. Your core feels wetter and throbbing than before, and you swallow thickly in morification.

Before you can think further, his thick thighs part your own with gentle insistence. You let out a small gasp. The stupid, girlish white panties were exposed to his view. But he makes no move to touch, merely hums his approval.

A sharp breath penetrated your lungs as he dragged his fingers to trace the outline of your cunt through the fabric. He pressed his thumb against your folds and slipped in. Under his caresses, you writhe and grab the sheets, your hips lifting in an instinctive need for greater friction. He spreads your slick flesh.

You barely register anything when he positions his face in front of your panties. Then, he leans in, nuzzling his nose against the damp barrier. Panicking, you clamp your thighs together on instinct to deprive him of access.

“Wait!” you gasp. “That's… it's dirty.”

Simon looked up from down there, at you as if he didn't comprehend what you'd just said. The soft light of the moon cast a silver hue on his blonde eyelashes, making them resemble the feathers of a Greek goddess's wings. His gaze, intense and piercing, locked onto yours, penetrating through your feeble objections. They see beyond your meager resistance, straight into your deepest desires.

Color rose in your cheeks, but the dimness of the room made them blend seamlessly with the background. You bit your swollen lip, not sure if you should ask him to stop completely and pull back to spare you the vulnerability or continue the treatment.

Without a word, he placed his big hands on your hips. You watched him grasp the waistbands of your panties before dragging it down to pool at your ankles. The fresh air caressing your newfound nudity sends chills down your spine. Another tug, and the scrap of fabric joins your discarded clothes on the floor.

Now, you're lying there with evidence of your undisguised arousal—sticky, glistening liquid from his touch in the past few minutes. Evidence of your pathetic desires.

Some small, rational part of you wants to flee, to cover yourself with anything. To ruin everything by saying that this was all a mistake—that now that you think about it, you don't want it anymore. That it's not too late, there's still time before he makes engravings on your walls with his pen like a stamp.

But that other part of you—Goodness.

And unfortunately for your liar side, that's the part Simon focuses on.

A cry escapes your lips when Simon returns his committed mouth between your thighs, granting your latter wish. He brushes his lips against your swollen flesh, making your back arch helplessly off the bed. Your legs fall open of their own accord. He wastes no time to delve deeper, lapping eargerly at your dripping slit. Each flick of his tongue broke one by one the chains confining your control, drawing out more sweet moans that made his jeans tighten even more from the aching hardness that was growing inside.

When his lips close around your swollen clit, you gasp, fingers curling around the bed sheet. Your body wriggled and trembled beneath him but Simon remained unperturbed. His blonde head was steadfast, focused solely on his devotion to pleasuring you.

You feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter as he continues to lavish your weeping cunt. Incoherent noises spill from your lips – gasps and whimpers and cries escape without restraint. He pins your hips down and grips your thighs to keep them wide open.

“Simon… I… oh God…”

Tangles are created in your sheets as your fingers continue to twist them desperately in a tight grip. Every nerve alive and hyper-focused on the sensations his tongue continued to convey. Your pulsing walls close together as low pressure builds in your stomach.

“Si-Simon! I feel strange, I—oh!”

A wave of heat rolls from your lower stomach as your muscles clench and spasm uncontrollably. Your thighs quiver—you cover your face from the overwhelming sensation. White spots dance in your vision. Some dam has broken deep inside you, and you fall, fall, fall as a tear slips down your flushed cheek. Warm essence flowed freely towards his tongue, and he tasted it against the walls of his palate. His lips were wet, but Simon licked the remainder like a man long seized of water.

The room feels impossibly still and quiet. Only the sound of your mingled breaths and your racing heartbeat fill the humid air. You keep your flushed face covered. Now that the haze has cleared, your mind is swirling with shame and uncertainty again.

How do you deal with him now that he has buried his tongue in your cunt? The sticky mess between your thighs reminds you that he has brought you to the peak of ecstasy with just his hands and mouth. Nonetheless, your taut nipples and the pounding in your ears indicate that, despite everything, you still want more.

The whisper of fabric is heard as Simon shifts. You peer through your fingers to find him leaning over you, calloused hands gently pulling your palm away.

“You alright?”

The question, however gentle and well-intentioned, caused your skin to heat up in discomfort. You can't help but feel embarrassed—as if he sees you as some fragile thing, needing reassurance after every little touch. As if you're a mess, a tiny bird that soars too and falls, making sympathy his default emotion whenever he looks at you.

It makes you think about all the other women he must have been with, how he must have touched them in the same way he was touching you now. Those who are nothing like you. Those who understand their own desires and a man's. Those who could lose themselves for hours in passion, their stunning hips swinging above him as his hands glide along their curves without hesitation or restraint. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth—bitter and almost envious.

All the women around him, and unfortunately Simon has to settle with you tonight. A shy woman, unsure of her own identity.

Something has narrowed in your chest. Your lungs feel heavy as you breathe in, like an anchor is binding it to the bottom of your soul. But, you manage to give him a nod. And before your stupid mouth ruin everything, you surge up to capture his hungry lips with your own. Your arms snaked around his neck to bring his body closer to yours.

“How do they do it, those who make love without love?” you often ask. The first time you wonder about this, you compare it to building a house without a foundation. Impossible. It's like writing without words or dancing without music.

But as you sink beneath his bulky frame—as Simon lifts your legs to wrap around his hips and grinds his hardness against your cunt, drawing a moan from you and feeling the roughness of his jeans against your swollen folds—you begin to understand that it's possible. Those who make love without love simply need to possess the desire—a determined, tenacious grip on something.

As your teeth collided, the kisses grew more passionate and frenzied; it was unclear who was feeding off whom's hunger. His hips rolled into you. Tongues tangled together in an unrehearsed dance that ignites sparks coursing through your veins. He nibbles your bottom lip, and you moan into his mouth.

Reeling for breath, you turned away, only to give Simon the opportunity to nib on your jaw and trace kisses down your neck. His hand slid under your shirt, creeping up your ribs to cup your breast.

When he reaches the delicate shell of your ear, he closes his teeth gently around the lobe and tugs. You cry out at the sharp pain mixed with pleasure. His busy hands kneaded your breasts, twisting your erect nipples between his thumb and forefinger. He slides the other down your belly and stops to cup your cunt. You gasp and buck against his hand as he starts circling your clit lazily, dragging two fingers up and down, coating it with another wave of your essence.

“Off… take it off.” You mutter without thinking.

Simon understands your breathless demand. Kneeling between your thighs, he makes quick work of his leather jacket, tossing it without a care for the floor. You watch him take off his shirt, muscles rippling as he grasps the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.

Your weathered heart, fluent with wounds and what is left behind in its wake. However, when the covering is removed, you're not prepared for the sight revealed to your eyes. His body—Simon's body. His chest was a masterpiece of defined muscle, and his abs were chiseled as if they were as solid as granite. The trail of blonde hair leads temptingly below the waist of his jeans.

It was the map of scars on his flesh that drew your attention. Pale lines, both thin and thick, had claimed their places, like the constellations he carried as proof that he had been hurt and survived. All his close calls, markings of victory—there were people who wanted him dead, but he lived to tell the story.

Still, in the dim light of the room, one scar seems strikingly different from the others.

A long, deep gash curves gracefully around one side of his ribs, which have healed into a thick rope of knotted flesh. You wonder about its possible origins—some accident, perhaps, working with tools or machinery gone wrong. Another one of his secrets you're not deemed worthy for him to share with.

Seeking to regain some composure, you grasp the hem of your sweater and draw it over your head. The only thing left on you was the white bra.

He observes your body with a careful scan before meeting your gaze once more. Leaning down, he captured your lips in his parted ones, renewing the kiss. You lifted your back slightly to make way for one of his hands. He fumbled with the small hook before releasing it, freeing your breasts in relief.

Simon cupped your breasts, fingers fully rounded and exploring freely now with more access. You let out another moan. He inserted your breast into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue dancing around it as he gently sucked. You arched against his body, pressing your chest against his.

He releases your swollen nipple with a tiny pop sound. You watched as Simon rose to his knees, eyes never leaving your form as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small foil packet you gave him earlier. Placing the square between his teeth, he reaches down to unzip his jeans. Your breath hitches in anticipation.

But to your secret dismay, the jeans stay on, shielding his thighs and underneath from view. Hope dissipates from your heart – a foolish, unfathomable melancholy seeps in through the empty rooms. As you watch him tear the packet open with his teeth and roll the condom down his length, you try to tell yourself that you have no rights—that this means nothing to him as it does to you. That this is merely your way of finding pleasure in each other until morning calls.

Yet, the disparity between you weighs heavily, as he has seen every intimate part of you, and you're still denied some access to him.

As Simon finishes rolling on the condom, your thoughts become detached. Desperate for a distraction—comfort, you stretch out your arms in invitation. He accepts your wordless plea, diving into your embrace and covering your mouth with his own as he slowly presses his cock forward. You feel the stretch and burn; your walls have been breached to accommodate his large size. The foreign fullness—the pulsing sensation of having a man fill you so completely—draws a quiet gasp from you.

Breaking the kiss, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You felt him take a shuddering inhale. He started to move slowly, the stretch and burn of your walls parting further. Your breath comes short and sharp as tears prick the corners of your eyes from the sting of it.

“Too much? Want me to go easy?”

The question that leaves his lips tugs at the feet of your heart. And you believe that's how unlovable people behave—the urge to keep searching, to lick it even from the tip of a knife. The urge to see where it was never present.

You know he only shows concern for you to continue bringing him pleasure. Yet, some part of your traitorous, fickle heart, swells. The conviction that there is something worth feeling, something flickering in the distance—timidly but surely blooming, waiting to be discovered.

(Butterflies take flight in my belly. My heart has learned to feast on even the driest of breads.)

“No… keep going,” you rasp.

So, you cling to him tighter, urging him on despite the ache, because having him move within you is the closest you'll come to an embrace—to a cheap substitute for love. Let me drown; let his touch envelop my body – to become both his refugee and prisoner. Let me lose myself in this illusion, for it is all I have.

Simon pushed himself in further. You bit your bottom lip feeling him against your walls; your blunt nails create half-moons into his flexing back and shoulders. The burning feeling is emphasized before gradually disappearing and is replaced by pleasure. You threw your head back against the pillow as he slowly sped up his thrusts, bringing your hips to meet his.

A broken gasp escapes your lips when he slightly changes his angle and slams back in. His name was uttered in the lewdest sounds—gasoline on the fire of his lust, creating another wave of vigor to slide his cock in and out of your weeping hole.

Silhouette was created when he straightened his back, blocking out the moonlight. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he continued to deliver controlled thrusts. You watched the sweat slide slickly down the cords of his neck. He gripped your hips before pulling out. You whimpered at the empty ache. But, before you can protest, he slams in the angry crown and fills you to the hilt in one deep thrust.

The mirror at the end of the room has steamed over from the heat. Simon places his large hand firmly on your lower belly, pinning you down in place. He brought his other hand to rub circles over your swollen clit. Your lips form a perfect 'O' as you gasp.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, you follow the outline of his collarbone, droplets of sweat sliding down his skin. The sound of flesh slapping flesh was accompanied by mingled cries and moans. You turn your face into the pillow, watching how the sheets tangle and crumple around your desperate fingers. Simon quickened the roll of his hips; the bed squeaked with each one.

 “Ah! O-oh, Simon! Simon! I’m—!”

Your body trembles as unbridled moans escape from your failing lips. He pushes your stomach farther in while continuing to piston his hips. Your breasts bounce and sway; sweat covers taut, flushed nipples. He rammed his fat cock into you so hard that it caused you to boil and surrounded your messed-up brain with smoke.

“You close for me, darling? Gonna come all over my cock?”

Your cunt throbs from his breathy voice. Brows furrowed, lips parted around gasps and sighs. The lacrimal glands swell. Every inch of your senses is narrowed into hyper-awareness, with focus scattered all over and your thighs trembling uncontrollably. The white spots on your brain are spreading. His thrusts became sloppier as his hips stutter. Your stomach tightened, velvety walls pulsing around his twitching length until Simon buried his face in your shoulder.

A litany of curses and praise fell from his lips. His cock flooded in scalding heat of your slick juices mixed with his climax. The two of you stayed like that for a moment, trying to stabilize your ragged breathing and regather reality.

While your brain recovers, you stare at the boring ceiling of your room. The heaviness in your limbs and sore muscles replace the last waves of pleasure. Your mind wandered aimlessly, half-aware that you were still clinging to him.

Simon rose, drawing his body away from yours. He pulled out his cock, and the emptiness suddenly felt foreign. You observe drowsily as he stands on his knees to fix his trousers – his movements appear hurried now, as he no longer needs to linger after having taken his pleasure. Feeling exhausted, you lay motionless.

“You good?” he asked, looking at you.

You gave him a weak nod. “M’alright… just sleepy,” you mumble, biting your lip.

For a second, something flickered in Simon's eyes—something akin to tenderness. But it's gone as quickly as it came, and in your current condition, you're not a competent witness either. Maybe it's just a reflection of your desire for him to stay, to hold you one more night, and to leave in the morning. Too involved, too risky.

That wasn't the deal, you know.

And you also know that you've always been bad at letting go, of your habit to cling fiercely to what you love until your marks are ingrained upon them. You loathed the cold room now that he had detached himself from you. But it would be selfish beyond measure to ask him to stay, to shower your desperate wounds with his kisses as gently as he did when he was still under the spell of lust. You couldn't drag anyone along with you. It would be unfair, even cruel. You couldn't do that, not to Simon.

You turn to your side and pull the blanket over your naked form. Shutting your eyes, you tried to fight the dull ache rising in your chest.

“You can go,” you mutter.

Simon stood silent for a moment, his agreement given in silence. The mattress groaned softly as he shifted his weight. You heard him finish getting dressed, followed by the soft, steady padding of his footsteps against the floor. Each step takes him further from the bed. You heard the sound of the door knob turning and the door swinging open, allowing a sliver of light from the hallway to peek through the gap before it continued to narrow and darkness returned.

Then comes the click of the door as it fully closes, and you're all alone again.

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[roughroadhaley]

if Carrie Bradshaw has no fans I’m dead 🩷

[mymp3]

Aigis and Minato are like escalators.

A non-human becoming a person, a person becoming something all but. One's starting their journey at the bottom, and the other at the top. At the end of everything, Aigis is on ground level, with SEES as her newfound friends in the same boat, with the same mindset. Minato meanwhile, starts at the bottom, with everyone, all of the people, and slowly leaves until nobody can reach him anymore.

Their journey's intersect but they're not headed to the same place.

They briefly touched, but in the end, they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time.

[nostalgia-tblr]

thanks to TV Tropes for reminding me how damn often RTD!Who does that thing of condeming the mass-killing of (usually) Daleks and getting (usually) the Doctor to decide not to do it and then getting someone else to kill them all anyway because we don't want the hero to make a horrible choice but we also don't want him and the rest of the universe to have to live with the consequences of his decision to nope out of it on moral grounds. so the story does in fact think that the Daleks need to be killed en masse but only if it can be done by a scapegoat or someone who is unaware of what they're doing and who thus cannot be blamed for their actions.

[moe-broey]

Hmmmm.....

[lizbethborden]

Oh man. Thinking so much about one of the people I worked for at the hellhole. She would get wound up and go off at me in a completely vicious way. I am not really a person who yells or gets angry in those situations, my goal is always to deescalate, so I would yes her to death rather than respond meaningfully--and the one time I did try to push back on her on something she was pissed about, she overrode me repeatedly and started accusing me of "defending" the person she was mad at (I wasn't, I agreed with her criticism, I just was a decent human being with empathy for others' situations). What I really should have done was either yelled back or walked away, but I always defaulted to yes'ing her, especially because she would wait until we were in my small, enclosed office to do it and I would have no way of getting away from her. I found out that she HATED that I would always go "Okay" and "I understand," because I would just do it and do it until she stopped, and she said it "makes people feel criticized." If you don't want to feel criticized, don't behave that way...? Between her and the owners, I got yelled at more in like 10 months of working than I did in 3 years at Starbucks.

[llycaons]

idk if brennan is just being nice to his players or if some kind of theater kid preference he has but when he acts like singer characters are god's gift to the world and people are always fawning all over them to boost the character/player's ego it always makes me roll my eyes. okay come on. I like bob quite a lot so this isn't about her it's honestly still about misty being an entitled, self-centered piece of shit rich asshole YES she still pisses me off!!! wow!! okay I had to get that out whew back to the pirates who I genuinely do find delightful

[yearning-butch]

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

having to ration my meds for a week thanks to refill fuckups right as i'm slamming facefirst back into my Extensive Web of Infodumps About Quarry Meta hyperfixation is biphobia. if it's a sign i'm ignoring it

[blacktabbygames]

Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

[moonlightsolo]

i see you.

summary: being the product of a secret relationship between a human scientist and a na’vi comes with its perks. one of them being neteyam sully.

pairing: neteyam x fem!na’vi/human reader

warnings: heavvyyyyyyy smooching, angry jake, mention of parent dying/leaving, also things get a lil spicy, one use of y/n.

note: tell a friend to tell a friend she’s baaaaaack !!!!! i haven’t written something in so long so my grammar is kinda shit, so if you see something that doesn’t make sense ignore it! anyway- reader & neteyam are aged up to twenty years old. also reader is 6ft since she’s na’vi/human, but she’s still small compared to him since he’s like 8’2. 

part two | part three | part four | part five

no one knew how it happened- how you happened. how a human scientist and na’vi mated; it should have been impossible, but somehow they made it possible. 

your mother travelled from earth to pandora to study the native species of the omaticaya clan. during her studies, one particular na’vi caught her eye, and sooner than later they developed a secret relationship and fell deeply in love. 

they were inseparable- he taught her the ways of the forest and showed her how the na’vi live day to day. while your mother brought him along to collect samples of the environment around her, and he kept her safe as they explored.

the battle between the sky people and the na’vi, unfortunately ended with your father dying at the hands of your mothers colleagues. the omaticaya finally won, but when the rest of the human soldiers were sent back to earth, your mother was stuck. 

she was unable to travel in cryosleep while carrying you, so she was forced to stay on pandora and live out the rest of her pregnancy on the foreign planet. 

the only person who knew the identity of your father, was your mother and grace. everyone else assumed some soldier knocked up your mom, but boy, were they wrong. 

when you were born, your eye shape and color of your skin resembled your mothers, but the color of your irises were a deep amber, almost glowing yellow. darkened skin-colored stripes decorate your body head to toe, and white freckles adorn your facial features. 

the secret was out- you’re half na’vi, and half human. 

once the clan found out the scientists child is part na’vi, they took you under their wing to teach you their ways. your mother became extremely jealous, knowing that she could never be accepted by them like you have.

at the mere age of four, your mother left the base to travel back to earth without you. leaving you under the care of norm, max, jake and the rest of the clan.

thankfully being part na’vi and human, you’re able to breathe both types of air. mo’at became your motherly figure once your mom disappeared, quickly helping you adapt to their lifestyle in the forest.

over the years, you started to realize that you were different from the other na’vi children. you’re shorter in height, aren’t as fast, and you didn’t have their azure-colored skin. but somehow, you still felt as if you were a part of them. 

you became close to neytiri and jake’s kids, mostly kiri. you grew up with her and neteyam, but as you blossomed into a woman you wouldn’t dare to look him in the eyes. 

fearing that he’d realize your true feelings for him if he stared into them too long. 

throughout your teen years, you casually dated a few na’vi boys, but none of them were neteyam sully. nobody could compare, you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. 

even now as a young adult, those old feelings can’t be choked down anymore. the same feelings you had about the eldest sully boy when you were younger. 

“stop drooling.” kiri teases you under her breath as her hands work to weave a basket. 

you’re knocked out of your trance, head whipping to face her. “no! i am not drooling.” you scoff and shake your head as you continue tucking leaves into the correct shape. you can feel your cheeks burning hot from her catching you staring at her older brother. 

you glance up from your working hands, admiring how neteyam effortlessly spears a fish in the water that he’s standing ankle-deep in. he lets out a triumphant laugh as lo’ak hollers proudly at him from the grass. 

“yeah, bro! get that fiiiiiish!” the younger boy whoops happily with his hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound.

the older brother turns his head to see who else could have noticed the catch, barely making eye contact with you before your eyes drop back down to your hands. 

swiftly, you busy yourself with tucking the leaves into each other. your pointed ears twitch slightly when you notice the sound of rustling water growing closer. 

kiri nudges your arm with her shoulder which confirms your suspicions.

he’s walking up to you. why is he walking up to you? you didn’t say anything to him. you didn’t even get a good look at him. there’s no reason for him to come over here.

from your peripheral vision, you can see his feet stop right in front of you in the glittering water. “hey guys.” he speaks softly, almost out of breath.

“hey, neteyam!” kiri quips at him, eyeing you from the corner of her eye with an evil grin.

the sound of his panting voice makes your heart  skip a beat and your abdomen constrict your breathing. you push the basket away from your nervous hands to rest them on your knees. your eyes carefully drag up the lanky expanse of his body, meeting his eyes with your own.

“oh hey, neteyam. how’s… um- the fishing going?” you hum nervously, chewing on your bottom lip out of a nervous habit. 

you can’t help but notice his hands are resting on his slender hips with his infamous bright smile on his face. 

“it was good. caught a few big ones…” he huffs out another strained breath. the sound makes you want to fall over, “what are you guys doing?” his eyes dart over to the trees for a split second before squatting down in front of you and kiri. 

his big round eyes look over your unfinished baskets, reaching out to touch yours gently. 

“hey! don’t touch. you’ll ruin it.” kiri swats at his grabby hands, making him raise his arms in surrender. “okay, okay!” he laughs. 

the sound of rustling leaves distracts you from the boy in front of you, making you and kiri turn to look behind your backs. before you could even make it halfway, his hands wrap around your wrists to yank you forward. 

“shit!!” you yelp before you face-plant into the chilly water, gurgling under the surface before lifting your head up, taking a sharp breath.

muffled laughter fills your ears as you sit up in the pond, pushing your soaked hair out of your face and off of your ears so you could hear. 

neteyam is sitting in the pond directly in front of you, hand laying across his abdomen as he belly laughs along with lo’ak. 

kiri is already climbing out of the water, grumbling under her breath and wringing out her hair. “screw you guys.” she calls back, flipping her middle finger before disappearing into the thick forest towards home. 

you look back at neteyam and lo’ak who are slightly calming down between their fits of laughter. “you… should… see… your… face… right… now!” neteyam cackles, throwing his head back in the air. 

“best idea, bro.” lo’ak reaches over to high five his brothers shoulder and to use him to pull himself out of the water. he grabs neteyam’s hand to help him up next, both of them still giggling.

“this was your idea?” you stare up at neteyam with squinted eyes and a scowl on your face. 

the boy audibly gulps when he notices your changed demeanor, his hand going to scratch the back of his neck. “uuhh, yeah… maybe?” he clears his throat, darting his eyes away from you. 

for a moment, you keep the angry facade before your arm winds back and you send your hand through the water to splash the older boy. 

“woah!” neteyam blocks the water with one of his hands, a surprised smile instantly forming on his perfect lips.

he swoops down towards the water, sending a wave directly into your face. “hey!” your eyebrows furrow, quickly getting onto your knees to send another burst of water towards him. 

lo’ak watches the scene unfolding in front of him, noticing that the rest of the fish swam away from the commotion. “guess we’re done fishing today.” he sighs in defeat and climbs out of the pond without either of you noticing. he follows kiri’s footsteps into the forest with the basket of fish over his shoulder.

you and neteyam continue battling it out, which ends in both of you completely soaked head to toe. “truce! truce!” you yell out in exasperation, falling back into the water. 

“my stomach hurts from laughing. i can’t anymore.” you continue to giggle as neteyam helps you up from your position in the water. he slowly trails behind you as you trudge back towards land, his tall stature towers over you from behind. he reaches out to grip your hips to lift you onto the plush grass. 

the feeling of his hands resting on your body makes your blood run hot, cheeks flaring with heat. 

“we’re drenched. what are we going to tell everyone?” he breathes out heavily with a soft chuckle. 

“we slipped and fell into the water?” you suggest and look up at him.

“we just happened to both slip and fall into the water together?” his eyebrows raise, and his cheeks puff out air in attempt to not laugh.

unfortunately, neteyam decides to look down at you which makes both of you burst into laughter again, “that idea is so stupid.” he choked out, pressing his fist to his mouth to stifle his little laughs. 

“let’s go back. we can figure it out on the way.” you sputter out, hunching over slightly as you walk forward in attempt to stop your giggles.

“hey, wait!” neteyam’s voice is suddenly serious, and you can’t feel his height looming behind you anymore.

you turn around at the sound of his voice, seeing he’s still in the same spot he was standing in. “i don’t want to go back yet.” he admits, his big round eyes darting down to his feet. 

you can feel your heartbeat grow faster, pattering against your chest like a jackhammer. “why not? you okay?” you take a hesitant step forward to stand underneath him, looking up in attempt to read his facial features.

by now, the sun is starting to set. the foliage around you both is slowly changing over, the white freckles in each others skin sparkling under the moonlight. 

his yellow eyes shyly look into yours, a timid smile twitching up onto the corner of his lips. 

“m’fine, i promise. i just want to stay here for a little longer. i don’t want to go back just yet.” he mumbles softly, a puff of his breath fans over your face from your close proximity. 

you can’t help but feel giddy from his words, unable to stop yourself from reaching your hand out to rest on his waist. your thumb absentmindedly rubs circles against his soft skin, “do you mind if i stay with you?” 

“do i mind?” he scoffs with a roll of his eyes, throwing his head back with an over-exaggerated sigh. 

embarrassment floods your body, making your ears ring from the blood rushing through your head. out of fear he’s angry with you, your hand pulls away from him, “oh i’m sorry. i’ll go then.” you start to turn the opposite way but he grabs your hips to keep you in place. 

“are you serious? you really don’t get it do you?” he almost laughs out of amusement, but you can’t help but feel even more confused. 

“i want you to stay here with me. i want you.” one of his hands come up from his side, bending down slightly to carefully tuck your hair behind one of your ears. 

your face stays emotionless as your eyes dart from his eyes to lips and back. “say something. anything?” he begs and shakes his head at you with an amused smile. 

“‘teyam…” you breathe out, a big smile beaming across your face, hands reaching up to cup his cheeks; something you could’ve only dreamed of doing. “i can’t tell if you’re being serious.” you whisper softly in the small amount of space between your faces.

“i’m gonna kiss you now to show you how serious i am.” he looks directly into your eyes before they flutter shut and he leans forward. 

the feeling of his lips on yours makes your knees go weak. neteyam sully is really kissing you right now. your arms wrap around his waist tightly to hold yourself up, which he quickly notices. 

his large hands drag down your sides and over your butt to grip the back of your thighs to hoist you up to his height. your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, ankles locking against his lower back. 

the new position allows him to deepen the kiss even more by gently wiggling his tongue against yours. he stumbles forward to a nearby tree, pressing your back against the trunk of it. 

it’s not like he’s having trouble carrying you, you’re equivalent to a feather for him. he just wants you closer. 

one of his braids falls in your face, swinging and tapping your cheek whenever your lips would connect.

“your hair…” you giggle against his lips, bringing your hand up to his face to tuck it back behind his ear. 

“sorry, they have a mind of their own, ya know.” his husky voice mumbles deeply into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your skin. 

your eyes flutter open to be met with the glowing forest, neon colors lighting up the vegetation around you both. you’ve been on this planet for twenty years and it still surprises you every day. 

neteyam pulls back to look you in the eyes, letting you admire his face for a moment. his blue skin seems brighter under the bioluminescent foliage. especially with the gleaming freckles that paint his skin. 

“ma neteyam, you’re so pretty.” your hand cups his soft cheek which he nuzzles into your palm almost instantaneously.

“no, you’re the pretty one, my girl.” he leans forward to peck your lips once more. the little nickname makes your stomach do somersaults in your belly. his tail flicks up happily against your ankle, tickling your lower leg.

neteyam takes the time to gently kiss down your neck and over your collarbone, “i want you to be mine.” he almost whimpers. his nose nuzzles against your pulse point as his lips continue litter your neck with kisses. 

“will your parents approve?” your voice slightly quivers, “you’re next in line to become eytukan. i’m not a full-blood. i don’t think-.” your rambling is paused by his lips pressing against the tip of your nose. 

“i don’t care what they think. plus, you know my dad likes you.” he gives you a reassuring smile, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek. you can’t help but take note that his palm and fingers cover the entire side of your head. 

“yeah, but your mom…” you trail off, not wanting to seem rude by talking about his mother, but you know that she has a problem with humans. you’ve seen the way she looks at spider. 

“look, i’m half-blood too. i don’t think my mom is going to care, plus you’ve been around our family for years. she likes you, i promise.” 

“i’m not one of you. i’m different, neteyam.” you let out shakily, “i’m small and not as fast, i can’t keep up with you.” your eyes dart to the side as you chew on the skin of your lip. 

“look, i know she can be tough, but i promise you, i don’t care what she thinks. since i was a teenager, i realized that i wanted you. i wasn’t brave enough to tell you that until now, but i don’t give a shit about our differences.” his hand grips your jaw with his hand, turning your face towards him so he can look into your watery eyes. 

“i see you, y/n.” his doe-like eyes flicker over your face, trying to read your expression. his eyes are full of adoration and love for the girl in his arms. 

your breath gets caught in your throat, “and i see you.” both of your hands slide up from his chest to rest on either side of his face, pulling him in for another kiss. 

on the way up, you accidentally brush against the voice comm device on his necklace. not knowing it would activate and relay sound through his father’s, mothers, and lo’ak’s ear piece. 

you both gasp into each others mouth when he ruts his hips against your center, the pressure pins your hips to the tree behind you. 

“what is that sound? who has their comm on?”you hear a low muffled voice coming from somewhere. 

neteyam instantly pulls away from the heated kiss, eyes wide with terror and embarrassment. your lips parting lets off a loud suction noise when he pulls away, now making it obvious what the sounds were coming from.

neteyam holds you up with one arm while he uses the other to click on a button on his necklace to turn it off, “it’s my dad.” 

“it’s just neteyam sucking face.” you hear lo’aks voice come through clearly in his ear piece. 

the boys head falls forward to rest on your chest, letting out the loudest over-exaggerated groan of annoyance. the puff of his hot breath against your damp skin makes a shiver shoot down your spine.

you can’t help but giggle and gently pet the top of his head in attempt to console him, “i’m never going to live this down.” he speaks against your skin, grumbling obscenities under his breath. 

“neteyam! where are you, boy?” jake shouts into his ear. 

he taps your thigh to signal you to release your grip from around his waist. he gently lowers you back down to the ground before answering him, “i’m here, dad. i’m here.” 

you can’t help but lean your head on his elbow since that’s the only place you can reach. you grab one of his hands, bringing it to your face to examine it. 

you thread your fingers through his much larger ones, squeezing his hand with your own. you almost laugh at how his hand engulfs yours. 

“yeah, mmmhmm. yeah, okay. i hear you. lo’ak shut up. i got it. we’ll be there soon.” neteyam responds to whoever is talking in his ear. 

“is everything okay?” you mumble quietly, peering up at him through your eyelashes. 

“they want us to come back, but i think everything is okay.” he smiles down at you, pulling you into his side while still holding your hand. 

neteyam leads you through the thick brush of the forest to his ikran. the banshee chirps at the sight of it’s owner, fluttering it’s wings in excitement. “hey, buddy.” neteyam hums and rubs it’s head. 

he reaches around his back for his braid, bringing it forward to make bond with the animal. neteyam effortlessly mounts onto the bird, reaching a hand out for you to take.

you step forward to slide your hand into his so he could help you on and get situated. “hold on tight.” he peers down at you from behind his shoulder with a smirk before the ikran nosedives off of the tree branch. 

“oooohhhhh my god!” you screech as your arms desperately flail around his waist, holding onto him as tightly as you can. 

he can’t help but laugh at your scream once he levels out, now coasting through the sky through the floating mountains. one of his hands reaches back to grip your thigh to pull you even closer to him. 

you hesitantly open your eyes, looking down into the glowing scenery beneath you. “beautiful, right?” his voice raises over the loud whooshing of the wind. 

“i love it.” you squeeze his torso tight, snuggling your temple into the crook of his back as you coast through the air. 

the ikran dips down slightly, making you gasp and tighten around his body. neteyam chuckles, his hand rests on your leg to slowly rub gentle circles into your skin to calm you. 

“hold on, we’re gonna descend.” he leans forward with the ikran, plunging downwards toward the ground once again. you squeal loudly, wriggling behind him in attempt to get closer to him. 

neteyam chuckles, shaking his head as he weaves and bobs between trees to make it back home. the ikran vertically swoops up into the large crevasse in the cave floor, landing on the rocky floor. 

neteyam hops easily off the ikran, disconnecting tsaheylu before his hands grip your waist to lift your body up to place you on the ground next to him.

“what were you guys thinking staying out past curfew?” jake storms up to you both, obviously angry. 

“i know, but i can handle myself. i know how to fight.” neteyam grumbles back, making jake even angrier with his son. if steam could shoot out of his ears at this moment, it would. 

“i know that you know how to fight, son. but the rda, they could be roaming anywhere. it’s dangerous, especially putting her in that situation.” he looks down at you, then turns his attention back to his son.

before jake could lecture him even more, you decide to intervene, “i’m sorry, sir. it’s all my fault we stayed out. i persuaded him to stay… to uh- fly around,” you glance up at neteyam through the corner of your eye, “i take full responsibility.” you nod at jake, gulping down your nervousness. 

jake sighs as he rubs his temples with one of his hands, “so then what’s the reason why both of you are soaked?” he points out, making you instantly freeze from not knowing what to say. 

neteyam’s hand comes up to rest on your shoulder, “to be honest, we were wrestling in the water.” 

your eyes blow wide from his words, turning to him to stare daggers into the side of his face. 

“wrestling… in the water?” jake almost laughs, “look i didn’t need to know that much. you couldn’t come up with a better excuse than that?” 

“oh shit.” neteyam whispers under his breath, “no, dad, it’s not like that at all. i meant… we were just splashing each other after fishing. it wasn’t anything like that.” 

“look, you two just be safe and keep it on the down-low. and next time, please take off your comm, ‘kay?” jake lowers his voice before shaking his head in disbelief and turning on his heel to head back. 

“so he thinks we had sex then, huh?” you breathe out defeat, looking up at neteyam. the boy lets out a huff of air as he watches his father walk away, “yeah i guess so.” his voice has a slight tinge of humor to it. 

the hand resting on your shoulder pulls you into his side with a little chuckle. he starts walking with you toward the pod where the scientists sleep. 

he follows you up the steps to the door, pausing a few steps down before you could open it. his face now parallel to yours since you’re higher on the stairs. 

you smile down at him, reaching out to gently pinch his chin to pull his face forward. you press your lips against his softly, as if he was a delicate flower petal. “i had fun tonight.” you mumble with a smile against his lips before pulling back. 

neteyam presses forward to chase your lips with his, trying to breathe in as much of you as he could. “don’t wanna let you go yet… wanna kiss you more.” he desperately pulls you forward to kiss you again, sucking in a sharp breath. 

your arms lazily drape over his shoulders to kiss him slowly, and tantalizingly. he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, gently nibbling the skin before making his way down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. 

“gotta go to bed before my mother has me by my throat.” his words make you laugh as you twirl one of his braids between your fingers. 

“tomorrow i wanna take you somewhere. will you let me?” he pulls back with a smile, thumb rubbing the skin of your outer thigh. 

“of course, i would love to. but where though?” you question with your fingers still busy messing with his hair. 

“it’s a surprise.” he hums playfully making your eyebrows furrow from curiosity of where it could be. 

“i love surprises.” you grin, leaning forward to peck his lips once more before attempting to completely pull away. neteyam groans from the warmth of your body leaving him, his arms wrap around your legs to keep you in place. 

“don’t leaaaaave.” he whines, resting his chin on your chest to look up at you. 

“i need to shower and clean up before bed. plus your mother is going to have your throat, ya know.” you poke his little pink nose, making his face scrunch up cutely.

“you’re right, you’re right.” he grumbles sadly, patting your outer thigh before he completely pulls back and stands up straight. he leans forward to swiftly peck your lips, “just needed one more, m’sorry. i’ll see you tomorrow.” he turns around to climb down the rest of the steps. 

“goodnight, neteyam!” you shout at him as you unlatch the metal door. 

he turns around at the sound of your voice, “goodnight.” he whisper-yells back at you as he slowly walks backwards to watch you slip inside. 

neteyam’s smile on his face doesn’t falter, not even for one second. the only thing on his mind is you. he never would have imagined that his day would have ended like this. confessing his feelings to you, and kissing you goodnight. it’s almost as if he’s living through a fantasy his younger self dreamed of. 

the excitement of you makes him toss and turn throughout the night; it makes him nervous, knowing that he is already head over heels for you and in too deep- but all he can worry about now, is seeing you tomorrow. 

-

tags: @k----a27s @aspenreadsfanfic @aliseaaah

[sergeantkitty]

Y'all, my man Lucifer just likes himself some duckies.

Anyway, feel free to read through my rant of why I think he likes ducks so much. SPOILERS for S1 Ep8 toward the end.

(Click image for better quality.)

So in case you don't know, there's this famous(ish) Christian story called "The Devil and the Duck". I'm gonna try my best to summarize it here.

This boy gets a slingshot as a present and decides to be a little shit and impulsively uses it to shoot his grandma's pet duck. This kills the duck and the boy feels extreme guilt. His stupid bitchass sister reveals that she saw the whole thing and holds the boy's guilt over his head (remember this phrasing for later) and makes him do her chores and stuff for him, using what he did as blackmail and a guilt-trip.

The boy for a while keeps doing his sister's bidding until he cracks under the guilt and exhaustion from all the chores, and in a break down he apologizes to his grandma, admitting what he did to the duck. The grandma then reveals that she saw what happened from a nearby window, and although she was deeply hurt by what the boy did, she still forgave him immediately. She says that she'll always love the boy since he's her grandson and that seeing his immediate regret was enough for her. She was just waiting for him to admit it, apologize, and stop letting his sister manipulate him.

In the story the boy represents humanity/any person, the sister represents the devil, and the grandma represents God/Jesus. The boy commits a horrific sin and feels immense guilt over it and the sister/devil holds the sin over his head and tries to convince him to do her bidding since the sin was so great that there's no way that grandma/God could forgive him. The lesson of the story's pretty obvious from there: don't let the devil guilt you with your sins into giving up and turning against God since God sees all your sins and faults and still loves you and forgives you anyway, so long as you apologize and repent for your sin against him.

I think Lucifer as we see him in Hazbin Hotel is placing himself both as the devil (obviously) but also the boy in the story. He's clearly interpreted more as a sympathetic, guilt-ridden figure. He surrounds himself with memorabilia of his greatest regret: the downfall of man (hence the apples and snakes.) Now keep in mind that I've highlighted the phrasing of "holding over [one's] head", well that's because that's the specific phrasing used in the story. Now look at Lucifer's hat. It has the snake and apple. Lucifer is LITERALLY holding his greatest sin over his own head and has given up on his dreams and happiness in favor of doing the bidding of his own personal devil: his depression. He's let himself whither away in isolation and gave up on trying to be a proper king for the people he granted free will to since in his mind they're all wretched sinners abusing that gift. All he sees is the bad side of humanity.

I think to him the duck symbolizes the dreamer still inside him, that bit of hope left in him, that hope that even though he's the cause of evil in humanity he'll still one day be forgiven and maybe even be let back into heaven. We see heavenly figures like Sera and Emily feeling clear sympathy for him in S1 Ep6. They don't hate him, they just fear earning the same fate. Even going into S1 Ep8 we see him decide to stop letting his depression rule over him and help Charlie redeem sinners. He's working to, in some way, repent for his greatest sin because, thanks to Charlie, he's seeing the good in humanity again.

Do I have any way of knowing if this is even REMOTELY accurate? ...No... but I like the thought of this being the reason behind Lucifer's duck hyperfixation, and I haven't seen anyone talk about this or bring this possibility up. Anyways, thanks for reading my little rant :3

[sleepingoreo]

Just thinking about Yan Sunday with Layla reader…

Reader is so tired, weak and stressed all the time about her study and thesis… reader’s state could be vulnerable to him since he can grabs her so easily.

Or Cryo Vision? He just need to keep away from you, make you lose memories and lies that you are his lover.

Please, I need Sunday post with Layla reader..

Yess Ofccc! I love Layla sm she's so pretty and I relate to her a lot, but I ignore my work on purpose. But her design is so pretty when I first saw her she became my favorite immorality like Furina! I Barely sleep now because of tests and exams. Also Thank you for the request <3

Pairing: Sunday x Layla reader

Warnings: Yandere Sunday, a bit ooc, mention of drugging/spike drink, manipulation

-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-♡-

The paper, assignment, and late work kept piling up on you. You can't catch a break even after completing each assignment. Your sleep schedule started getting messy which raised concern from Sunday.

Yet Sunday never liked how you pushed everything aside to focus on your academics. He secretly hated the mentions of your future that’s without his picture in there. How you'll leave the dreamscape in Penacony once you graduate and finish your studies here, yet he kept a happy smile pretending to support your goals.

Recently a big project and essay was coming soon. You need to submit your thesis and get it approved as soon as possible. Writing endless papers piling up anything to get this approved like your life depends on it.

Sunday lent you his office since the library was packed with others trying to get their thesis approved too. Sunday quietly works on his paperwork reading the new bills and policies trying to get passed. Work was keeping you both busy yet you still couldn't help but start dozing off.

Your head and eyes felt heavy falling slightly. Your tired body rested against Sunday's shoulders causing him to look up from his paperwork and towards you. He raised an eyebrow before smiling and caressing your cheeks.

The tea he offered you really seemed to take effect quickly. He couldn't help but to spike your tea before offering it to you. He couldn't stand seeing the eye bags under your eyes when you forced yourself awake even though your body was already weak enough. The way you've been ignoring him and growing distant from him to focus on your studies, he despises the fact you cared more about your academics than him.

He caressed your hand gently. He was glad you were deeply asleep knowing he was soon going to perform the last step to keep you for himself…

You woke up in a room and stretched. You felt more at ease but a sinking feeling appeared in your heart when you realized your thesis and project was due.

You scrambled, throwing the blanket off and seeing Sunday's hands stopping you and shushing you holding you in his arms.

"What's the matter? You looked at peace when sleeping?" He cooed at you brushing his hands through your strands of hair.

You stumbled over your words as you tried explaining your thesis still needed to be submitted before the due date. Sunday's face darkens slightly as he forms a wan smile

"Oh, the one you were working on? A friend of yours came in stating they were your partner for this thesis and were going to submit the thesis for you today," He held your hands in his.

Your face and heart dropped so far below. You sobbed as you scrambled hugging yourself and started ignoring his words. You were furious at Sunday even though you knew it wasn't his fault for falling for this trick. You’ve never told him what you were working on anyway.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry I didn't know," he said in his sweet tongue. Gosh, you really can't hate him but blame yourself.

In the end, the due date passed and it was too late. You sobbed and sobbed as Sunday held you in his arms comforting you. You were so fragile to him. A fragile weak human who needed his and The Harmony's protection, yet mostly for you to rely on him.

As you cried you looked in his pile of trash paper to see your thesis. You pushed yourself off him and grabbed the paper pushing aside his pile of documents and scattering them all over the floor.

Fury arose yet you sat there in complete silence and confusion, "why?" You muttered weakly dropping the paper as you broke out into a sob, "Why Sunday? Why did you lie?"

Sunday wing's on his head tense up as well as his expression as his smiles slowly fade away.

"What do you mean? Your thesis? I thought you meant the project you were working on earlier," He tries to hide his guilty expression by the fact he was caught in a lie.

Before you could comment you were dragged out by the Bloodhound Family. Sunday was going to make sure you never stress over any academics again.

You open your eyes in a white room. You sat up smelling a familiar white room and bed. A hospital? You looked and saw a man. Gray hair, white angel wings on his head, a golden halo floating above his head, and a sweet angelic smile plastered on his face.

"I'm Sunday... Do you remember me, darling?" The man named Sunday introduces himself with a question. Yet even though he felt similar you couldn't break down why.

"I feel like I know you"

"That's great darling" he brushed the hair from your forehead planting a kiss on your head. "I'm your lover, not just your boyfriend."

You didn't stop him but sympathized with his feelings. Sunday was never going to let you leave this dream now. You'll never have to cry or mess up your sleep schedule and health anymore. You were just too fragile to face reality so he’ll insist the dreamscape is the only safe haven for your fragile body. This was the true dream he longed for and he will make sure you love it too. 

[sukunas-wife]

Can I please get a Sukuna family scenario where maybe they see future Yuji... Maybe when he's all grown up. It's fine if you don't want to do it

Baby Yuji to Grown Yuji 😭😭 I’m not sure it’ll be good but yeah! I’ll try for you 🥺🤍

-

Yuji left the Palace when he turned 19, the way you cried when you held his face for the last time smothering him in kisses 🥹 He was your baby boy, your first child, sure his sister and brother were still in the house but you loved him deeply. He clung to your side more and never failed to run to your side in trouble. If Sukuna wasn’t there to dry your eyes, there was Yuji to hug you and tell you “It’ll be okay mom, we can fix it! We just gotta.. we gotta.. I don’t know but we’ll figure it out!” That bright smile he had since he was 2, it was the last time you’d see it for who knows how long. You sniffled feeling Megumi pressed himself into your side hugging you, you smiled rubbing his back when he buried his face into your stomach. Nobara was being fiesty saying “who’s gonna miss him anyways! It’s good he’s leaving he was so loud anyways! A real nuisance if anything.”

Still she started to tear up, Sukuna pulled her into his side. The tears fell freely while she held on tight to his shirt.

The house was quieter, as Megumi and Nobara bickered; it was never as lively as when Yuji was home. The years passed slowly before one morning Sukuna came in with Uraume, dropping into his throne you came to see him. He held his hand out to Uraume who gave him a letter, “This is for you.”

Confused, you took the letter, opened it and read it. Sukuna watched and panicked when you started to cry. He stood up coming over to you snatch the letter away to see who had told you what

“Hey mom

It’s Yuji, your favourite son :)

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be coming home soon. It’s been a long time but I think I’m ready! Tell dad to save a fight for me when I get home! I know I can take him now!

I hope this letter actually gets there, maybe I’ll get there first..

Oh! Will you make those sweet and savoury noodles I used to love? I tried but it always tasted burnt or rubbery. Don’t tell Gumi and Noba I’m coming home! I want it to be a surprise! But I should be home in time for the first day of winter. I miss the snowy hills. I can't imagine Megumi going out and messing with all the snow. He always hated the cold unless he changed. Let's go for a walk when I get back! I miss those milk buns and tea you used to make,

Make sure to tell dad I’ll be home so he better be there! He can’t run now.

Signed, your son Yuji”

Sukuna let out a hearty laugh, “Brat really thinks he can take his old man huh? I’ll prove to him he can’t.” The smirk on Sukuna’s face eased you, you smiled the last tears falling.. “Ryo.. What day is it?” He looked confused before Uraume spoke up, “it’s the first day of winter Lady Y/n.” Almost as if on Cue there was a knocking on the palace doors, Sukuna grinned before making his way to his throne gesturing you to get out the room, you didn’t want to because that’s your baby boy but you definitely wanted to have feel better noodles after he got out in his place by his dad. So you left, Megumi and Nobara were both respectively in their own rooms. Odds are Nobara was planning her attire for the festival the city held every year and Megumi.. well he’s probably resting after having trained with his father all day.

——

Sukuna motioned for Uraume to open the doors, they did.

“So Brat, you really think you can take me on now?” The smug look on Sukuna’s face almost faltered when he saw Yuji had similar markings to his own human form. Yuji smiled brightly, a feature Sukuna would’ve lacked if he wasn’t smiling as bright with how his son entered the room confident. “I think it’s time someone gave you a run for your money.” Yuji was confident, and that might have been his downfall, 7 years may have seemed like a long time. But for Sukuna those 7 years were a breeze. Yuji may have been off training but Sukuna had been training his own kids with their own unique techniques. Smacking his hands on the throne's arms, he stood up, “Uraume.” “Yes Lord Sukuna.” He quickly set up a barrier to the throne room.

“Alright Brat, I’ll go easy on you, I think you’ve forgotten who gave you your malevolent shrine.” Yuji laughed, “You gave it to me, but I perfected it.”

Yuji had indeed not perfected the Malevolent Shrine. Here he laid in an all too familiar position, face down in the red liquid blowing bubbles while his 3/400 pound dad sat on his back holding him in place critiquing him on his flaws. Explaining what he could do better, and how he could improve before he lifted his head, “Okay okay I get it, King of Curses geez cut me some slack I’m your son.” Sukuna laughed standing up off his son before offering a hand when Yuji sat up, his legs crossed, hand rubbing the back of his head. Opening his eyes he saw his dads stretch out, for a second he remembered that same when he fell into a pit of snow one winter and looking up he saw his dad stretching his hand out with an unamused expression that turned to a smirk when Yuji tried to shuffle away. He grabbed him by the back of his shirt pulling him up like he was nothing.

Yuji smiled with closed eyes, taking his dads hand, being pulled straight into a bone crushing hug. While Sukuna crushed him his domain disappeared, “Welcome Home Yuji.” Sukuna put him down, patting his shoulder with a heavy hand, Yuji standing rigid as he smiled, body shook slightly under the weight of his dads heavy pats. He was proud of his son's improvement, but overall he was glad to have his son back home.

Looking around Yuji asked “Where’s mom?” Sukuna’s head cocked to the side, “Your letter got here a few minutes before you did, when you knocked she went off to kitchen. I was doing her a favour by keeping you busy for so long. Yuji sniffed and his stomach growled, the savoury smell of his favourite food coming through the palace, “m hungry.”

Sukuna smiled, crossing his arms over his chest nodding with his head, “Let’s go find your mother then.”

——-

“Mom?” You smiled over your shoulder “Hey sweetie.” Megumi rested his head on your shoulder hugging you. He was watching how you were cutting spring onions. His stomach growled when he spoke up, “We haven’t had these noodles since Yuji was here, I thought you forgot how to make them..” he was looking at the bowls of savoury noodles steaming topped with sesame seeds. One, two, three, four, five… six? “You and Nobara never asked and when I did make em I had to force your dad finish the pot with me when you two made excuses not to eat.” You laughed lightly, bringing a hand up to rub his head.

He huffed through his nose, “It reminds us of him..” you turned to see the top of his head, cheek pressed against your shoulder. You started to sprinkle the spring onions over the middles, “You act like he’s dead Gumi,” kissing the top of his head, “Go get Nobara tell her she doesn’t have a choice. Drag her back if you have to.” He let out a curt laugh, “alright but if you hear her screaming.” You smiled nodding with your head, “Go Gumi.” He stretched standing back up straight, “I’ll be back then.”

Just as he left through the other door Yuji and Sukuna came in laughing from the opposite door. “So he was looking up at me with this ugly face. I almost felt bad for him but I told him “Know your place fool and shhhhk” Yuji made a slicing motion, Sukuna looked proud. “Mom!” Yuji’s face perked up when he saw you, he ran over to hug you “missed you…” For a second his voice was shaky and there was a crack in his resolve. You teared up hugging him back and not letting go. He leaned down and pressed his cheek against your shoulder, eyes closed, the same way he used to sleep on your shoulder as a kid. His grip didn’t loosen when you rubbed your hand up and down his back, “missed you too baby.” Sukuna behind Yuji’s back made a gagging motion before he looked over at the noodle bowl pulling on a noodle to eat. “Cmon I think your dads hungry and Gumi went to get Nobara.”

He didn’t move, he just hummed and you patted his back, “yuuu” you cooed at him before he stood up, “Alright, I’m starved! I’ll help take em out.” You swatted his hand away, “We don’t pay the kitchen help to just sit around. You go sit down.” The kitchen staff started to get everything ready, Sukuna pulled you into his side hugging you with both arms into his left side. “He looks so much like you Ryo…” Sukuna nodded chest puffing up, “Brat’s a damn menace too, wait till he tells you about what he did to a group or sorcerers who tried to wrongly attack him.”

You looked up at Sukuna worried, and he rolled his eyes, “That’s OUR son, I’ll be damned if I ever thought he couldn’t handle his own.”

He squeezed your shoulder nodding with his head, following his lead you both came to see Megumi and Nobara harassing Yuji. Megumi was ignoring him entirely facing away but you could see the soft smile. Nobara was pinching his cheeks forcefully, moving his face around and through it all Yuji was smiling brightly, his eyes closed, “I missed you both too.” Nobara looked shocked and she let him go, she looked away, “Yeah..” you didn’t miss how she closed her eyes with a smug smile.

Tag: @sad-darksoul @cyder-puff @satorisgirl @bontensbabygirl @lupita97lm @queen-luna-007 @sakuxxi @mercymccann @simpforyoubitch @certainduckanchor @domainofmarie @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare

Some these won’t tag 🥹 I’m sorry 🤍🤍

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AFTERMATH

SUMMARY : she’s human and ben wants to push her limits, fuck anyone else who got in the way of his mission.

PAIRING : soldier boy x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, choking, no plot :’(

WORD COUNT : 1.3k

A/N : title from a muse song. I’m trying to post all the things I’ve already written before getting started on new projects. this makes me so happy xx

“How many’s that?” Ben asked with a smirk on his lips, plunging his fingers in and out of her. Y/N could only whine in response, her head rolled to the side, the build up of another orgasm growing from within. He trailed his lips down her chest, the hot kisses felt like pleasurable sparks over her nerves, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling her sensitive skin and feeling just as good.

When she didn’t respond, he tilted his head at her, quickly thinking of a way to get her to answer him. His long, messy hair fell in front of his green eyes, waiting for her to look at him, but she didn’t. He slid his fingers out of her and his eyes flickered down to them, glistening and wet with her warm arousal.

She squirmed at the sensation of his warm breath on her pussy, her orgasm slowly began fading, but her sensitive clit still throbbed with desire. She opened her eyes, blinked the haze from her vision and quickly focused on the amusement and arrogance on his face.

“Ben?” She murmured, threading her fingers through his soft hair. He hummed softly, shifted his attention back on her face and brought his fingers into his mouth. He moaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut while savouring the taste of her on his fingers while she watched. He slipped his fingers out of his mouth and grabbed the underside of her thighs to open her up, digging his fingers roughly into her flesh.

“How many times did I make you cum?” He asked slowly, gazing at her from between her legs. He felt her calves press tightly against the back of his arms and more wetness grew between her legs. She let her head fall back into the pillows, rolling her eyes in annoyance, but he was too busy licking his lips hungrily and staring between her legs to really notice.

He still sensed her irritation but leaned into her anyway, his nose bumping against her clit. He licked a flat stripe of her pussy, started at her entrance to taste her and through her soaked folds, the tip of his tongue teasingly flicking up at her clit. His mouth watered, a little moan vibrated through him and against her cunt to add to the torture.

She fisted the bedsheets, felt the fires of her orgasm flickering again, his tongue teasingly brushed up and down her clit. “Fuck….” She grunted, squirming when he refused to change the pace and pressure, keeping her right on the edge, the fire in her staying light and warm. Only occasionally, he’d change the speed and the way he licked at her cunt. He’d only stop when she jolted, when she moaned and arched her back, when she wiggled her hips, fighting against his tight hold on her thighs.

“How many?” He mumbled against her.

“Five… five,” she whispered breathlessly, giving in. Her toes curled when he sucked her clit into his mouth rewardingly, two fingers slipping back into her. They curled against her walls, knuckle-deep inside her with her arousal dripping down to his palm. Smirking at the way she soaked his hand, he stretched her velvety walls by adding a third finger, pumping them into her quickly. He sucked roughly at her clit until she moaned his name loudly for a sixth time.

“You’re fine,” he muttered, rolling his eyes when she tugged his hair to stop him from sucking her clit. He sat back on his legs, brought one hand to her knee to keep her legs apart, and stroked his cock with the hand that was soaked in her arousal. “Fuck, look at you… all hot and beautiful.”

He grunted deeply and twisted his hand on his cock teasingly. His eyes were glued on her, starting with her half-lidded eyes and her parted lips, trying to catch her breath. He trailed his eyes down to her chest which rose and fell with each panting breath she took. He traced the curves of her body with his greedy eyes, her smooth skin covered with a thin layer of sweat, her hands now resting on her stomach.

He tugged at his cock faster, tightened his grip, a groan rumbling through his chest. His eyes had moved down to her weeping folds for a few moments before he moved closer to her. The heat of her body radiated to him like a sun and made his skin hotter, flushed and pink, sweaty from the rapid beating of his own heart. He moved his hand away from her knee to wrap it around her neck, his grip tightening safely.

“Ben,” she moaned, staring into his dark eyes. His cock throbbed in his hand and he gently released her neck before tightening his grip again, turned on by the way she breathed unevenly. He released her neck so she could breathe again, leaned over her to kiss her roughly instead. He parted from her lips, but continued to jerk himself off, the fiery feeling in his stomach spreading throughout his body.

She slipped her hands into his hair again, pulled him back down to continue the passionate kiss, and held onto him desperately. She tingled between her legs when his cock brushed through her folds and bumped against her clit, reigniting the flames of her desire. The heat of him turned her on, as if he’d drugged her with just a kiss, with just a touch of his skin on hers.

He groaned into her mouth, pulled away slightly to press his forehead against hers when he came. A string of saliva connected their kiss-swollen lips, his warm breath puffed over her wet mouth, and his nose bumped gently against her own. Hot ropes of his cum painted her stomach and pelvis and his grip on her throat tightened until he was beginning to soften in his hand and his orgasm was starting to subside.

She gasped for breath when he let go of her neck. He felt his entire body relax, nuzzled her cheek with his nose, and rested his weight on her body. Unlike him, she was gentle and careful. She carded her fingers through his soft hair, her nails scratched his scalp pleasantly and an appreciative grumble resonated through his chest.

He pressed a kiss to her jaw, ghosted her skin with his soft lips to reach her mouth. He gave her a messy kiss, leaned his weight on his arm by her head to drag his rough hand down her body. He took her breath away again, pulled away just far enough so he could follow the path of his hand with his eyes.

He smeared his cum over her hip bone, used his fingers to gather his cum and brought it down to her abused folds. She twitched when his fingers brushed against her clit and she tried to shut her legs around his hand, but he gave her thigh a gentle slap that forced her to spread them open.

“You’ve been so good for me,” he praised softly. He kissed her cheek, gathered more of his cum and shoved his fingers inside her vagina. He pumped them into her slowly—twice or four times, then pulled them out to gather the last of his cum, but this time he brought his fingers to her lips. She was ready for him after a single tap of his fingertips against her lips and her tongue welcomed him into her mouth.

Her lips closed around his fingers, her gaze catching his when she sucked on them and he carefully started to thrust them in and out of her mouth. She hummed softly at the mixture of his and her cum, her teeth grazed his fingers when he pulled them out, and he awarded her with another kiss.

“Ben, I have to meet Butcher and Hugh-” she gasped when he pushed his cock into her smoothly.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, dollface,” he chuckled, his cock already hardening inside her again. He rolled over onto his back, roughly grasped her hips and gave her a charming smirk now that she was on top. “Let’s see how much more you can handle.”

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