#best interactions have been on ao3 or from ao3 readers lately

[thepowerofswayze]

demonstration

originally on ao3

based on this post by @fantasylandloser

pairing: art donaldson (challengers, 2024) / afab reader [gender not specified]

word count: 1.9K

warnings & info: 18+, afab reader, college era art AHHH, friends to lovers, first time together, mostly smut, oral sex (reader receiving), art is a munch obviously, reader wears a bra and skirt

summary: Catching Art up on your adventures gets hard when he doesn't get your explanations, or your hand puppet examples. Looks like you just have to show him exactly what went down. Based on this post that i could not stop thinking about. :))

☆

“Oh my god, fuck you!”

Art chuckled from where he stood, watching as you tossed the t-shirt he’d balled up and chucked at you back in his direction. It fell harmlessly to the floor a foot from him, and you glared at him as he snickered, picking it up and putting it away.

You were visiting Art, your close friend from high school, at Stanford. At that moment, you happened to be explaining how an interaction at a party at your university had gone a couple weeks before. Art never really liked listening to you talk about guys- hence, the shirt thrown directly at your face when you’d started describing this particular frat boy to him in detail- but he’d given up complaining a while ago. It was either that or be honest about why he hated it so much, and that was never going to happen. So, he tidied up his room as you explained the lead up, the flirting, the stumbling up the stairs. He fell back parallel to you on the bed as you got to the “good part”, his head by your legs and an arm over his eyes, like he could block out the imagery.

“Anyway, I didn’t think it was a big deal at first, like when we were flirting, but then I was on him, kinda like-” You took a moment to sit up straight, grinning as art groaned and propped himself up on his elbows to see you better. He watched you attempt to mimic the position with your hands, your left hand being the guy you were talking about, your right being you.

To Art, it just looked like you were mashing your hands together. He looked up from your hands to see you raising your eyebrows at him, as if to ask if he was following. “Huh?” He said.

With an exasperated sigh and without another thought, you pushed yourself up on your knees and waddled over to him, swinging a leg over his body and hovering just over his torso. For a moment, Art just watched, bewildered, as you steadied yourself with your hands on either side of his head. He let himself fall back from his elbows, hands sliding up your hips and settling at your waist, catching momentarily on the fabric of your skirt. His fingers peeked just under the hem of your shirt. Your skin tingled where he touched you.

“... Like this,” you said finally, blinking at him for a moment. “Well, uh.” You moved your hands to his chest instead, careful not to push too hard (though with the muscle he’d acquired since he’d started playing tennis for Stanford, you were sure it bothered him much less than you thought). “More like this, I guess.”

Art nodded, quickly licking his lips before asking, “Then?”

You tried not to look at his mouth. “What?”

“Then what did you do?”

It finally hit you then: what the fuck were you doing, climbing all over your best friend to ‘show him’ how you and some guy had been fooling around a couple weeks ago? That would just mean fooling around with him, obviously. That wasn’t really the plan.

But, it was too late for your common sense to kick in now. There you were, your hips hovering over his, not quite touching yet. You watched his eyes dart down to your lips, then drag slowly back up to meet your gaze. You couldn’t wait here and think about what you’d gotten yourself into and how this would change your friendship forever, though you got the feeling he’d let you take as long as you wanted.

Then what did you do?

You steeled yourself, biting your lip and watching his lips part slightly as he tracked the action with his eyes. Then you took that moment to fully sit on his lap.

You could feel his chest expand beneath your hands with his sharp inhale, his eyes snapping down to your hips, then back up to your face.

“This,” you murmured. You’d intended for it to come out cocky, maybe even a little seductive, but you could hear the breathlessness in your own voice. You were trying your best to ignore the growing pressure where your hips met his, though really, it was hopeless. 

Art’s ears were burning a bright shade of pink. The urge to gently nip at them crossed your mind, just for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Then?” His voice was almost a whisper, chest rising and falling unevenly with his nervous breathing. The way he was looking at you, like he wasn’t sure you were real…

Fuck.

You leaned forward, trying not to let your breath stutter at the friction caused by the movement, until your lips hovered just over his. Then you kissed him.

You pressed your lips together gently, lingering for a moment before pulling back by centimeters. His lips chased yours, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly, and you were right back on him, lips falling open against each other. A soft sound escaped him as your hips shifted against his, along with a contented sigh from you. You repeated the motion, reveling in the low groan he let out, followed by your name murmured into your mouth.

Art’s lips were soft. And he’d shaved recently, you thought, hands cupping his face. The smooth skin of his cheeks was a stark contrast to the calloused hands he was now raking over your thighs, your skirt pushed up around your hips. You broke away from his lips, kissing down his neck instead, listening to the noises he made whenever you left a mark, whenever you ground against him just right. “Shit,” he gasped. “You’re- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” You left another kiss just below his ear, before murmuring, “What is it?”

You could feel him all but shudder beneath you. “Fuck,” he groaned, then your name, before he looked you in the eye. You resisted the urge to dive right back in. “Let me eat you out,” he said, suddenly determined, though still flushed and dazed. “Please.”

All you could say was “What?” because, surely, this was one big dream.

“Please.” His hands hadn’t stilled, still rubbing shapes into your thighs, his hips rolling up against yours. “Can I?”

Your entire body was on fire. “Okay, yeah. Yes.”

He wasted no time flipping the both of you over, laying you against the bed so he could kiss down your neck. You barely had a moment to process, your hands moving to tangle in his hair, one of his knees slotted between your legs. He tugged at the bottom of your shirt, prompting you to lift yourself slightly and help him get it off. Your bra came next. “You, too,” you murmured, pulling at his shirt and making him chuckle. He reached behind his head, tugging it off in one swift movement and abandoning it beside your shirt and bra on his freshly cleared floor.

One of his hands slid down your chest from your shoulders, enclosing one of your breasts, the thumb circling your nipple. You bit your lip and sighed, pulling him down for another kiss by the back of his neck.

Art let his hand trail from your chest down the sides of your stomach, then slotted his palm right between your legs, over your underwear. You gasped quietly, pulling away long enough for him to return his lips to your neck, your shoulders, your collar bone. You murmured a couple choice words as he started to move his palm, rubbing at your clit through the fabric. The dulled sensation was almost enough on its own, paired with the kisses he left against your chest. “Arthur,” you whined, tugging at his hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”

A grin overtook his face at the use of his name, his hands only slowing down, tracing torturously slow circles over you. Art only snickered at your glare before hooking his fingers into the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down and leaving you in your skirt pushed up to your waist. He watched you carefully as he slid further down so that his head was between your legs. His finger only traced a line from your clit to the bottom of your hole before whatever restraint he had was gone, and his mouth was on you.

Art’s tongue flattened against you, the warmth and friction making your head fall back as your eyes fell closed. “Fuck,” you moaned, hands threading into his hair as he answered with an equally obscene noise, muffled against you. ‘Hungry’ didn’t even begin to describe him, his mouth falling into a vague rhythm, eyes closed blissfully, whining into your pussy like it was doing him just as much good as it was you.

You thought about asking him to finger you while he worked, but his tongue prodded at your entrance and almost immediately, words escaped you. You brought one hand up to your face, clasping it over your mouth to muffle your moans, but Art stopped suddenly, watching your face. You whined your confusion, and he reached out to tug at your hand. “I wanna hear you. Let me.”

You blinked at him, chest heaving, and murmured “Alright,” before watching his head dive right back between your thighs, one hand still intertwined with yours. You had no choice but to moan unabashedly, your other hand busy pulling at his hair.  His free hand was wrapped around the outside of your thigh, pushing it in towards his head, so tightly you were sure it couldn’t be comfortable. But there he was, continuing to move his tongue against you like there was nothing else he’d rather do, whining and whimpering like you were his first meal in weeks. “Fuck, Art,” you cried, barely keeping your eyes open so you could watch him move. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

He groaned at that, relenting the pressure of your thighs against his head just long enough to reply: “That’s it, baby, please.” If he had anything else to say, he couldn’t keep himself off of you long enough to finish, already pushing your thighs back against his head, nose bumping against your clit as he bobbed up and down.

It seemed like that was all it took, really. You squeezed his hand and his head embarrassingly tight as you felt yourself tip over the edge, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. Art kept up his rhythm as you cried out his name, your hips rolling against his face. He didn’t stop even when you’d come down, chest heaving, until you basically pushed him off, desperate for a moment of relief.

He kept a hand on your thigh, the other untangling from yours to push his blonde hair out of his eyes and look at you. He was breathing as hard as you were, you noticed. His mouth hung open as he panted, the entire bottom half of his face coated in saliva and your arousal. Fuck, he was pretty like this. “‘S good?”

You shook your head, beckoning him toward you and pulling him down by the back of his neck when he was close enough. “You’re unbelievable,” you murmured, lips against his almost before you were even done speaking. You didn’t mind the stickiness. You pulled back to look at him, then glanced down to the tent in his pants. “Lemme return the favor.”

Art let out a breathless chuckle. “I don’t think I’m gonna last that long,” he said, somewhat embarrassed. “Not if you’re the one touching me. Not after this.” He gestured to the shine still on his face, to your thighs beneath him. Your face burned, and your smile was so wide that your cheeks hurt.

You shrugged. “Lemme try anyway,” you said, before bringing his ear down to your lips, nipping at the lobe gently. “Please?”

He couldn’t say no to you.

[shellshocklove]

does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.  

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”  

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[illusioninfnty]

day 25 ; humiliation

↠ vinsmoke sanji x reader

fandom: one piece word count: 1.8k warnings: nsfw 18+, pervy!Sanji, sub!Sanji, panty stealing, panty sniffing, pussy sniffing (?), degradation, masturbation, cock kicking, cum eating

kinktober m.list || read on ao3

Joining the Strawhat crew wasn’t something that you ever thought would be in your future, but when Luffy rolled up with all of his joyfulness and sincerity, you knew that it was the right decision for you.

And it was.

Until a certain cook joined your crew soon after you.

Sanji, in his defense, wasn’t all that bad. His food was the best you’ve ever had, and he was a great fighter whenever you guys needed helping out with whoever Luffy pissed off that week.

But that was when he wasn’t being a complete weirdo around you.

It wasn’t a secret that Sanji loved women, maybe a little too much. But lately his affections have been focused on you. And although Nami was grateful for it, smirking across the deck and catching your eye whenever Sanji approached you (as subtle as he thought he was being, it was quite obvious what his intentions were) it pissed you off to no end.

Lately, you’ve been noticing that more and more of your panties have been going missing. You were left with only a spare few, and you know that this amount of your underwear (and just your underwear) going missing was not a mere coincidence or laundry getting lost.

There was only one person on this goddamn ship that would be stupid—and horny—enough to steal so many of them without you noticing.

You knew exactly when he would go in and do it too; your routine never changed much from day to day. After you had dinner, you would go train for a couple of hours with Nami. You always felt like you were lagging behind everyone else when there were pirates or marines you needed to fight, and you wanted to make sure you weren’t dragging anyone else down with you.

Those training sessions left the women’s quarters completely free, and long enough for a certain someone to come in and take what he pleased.

You suck on your teeth as you come up with a plan to catch him in the act.

He wasn’t getting away with it this time. And you wanted your goddamn underwear back, too.

~

Sanji knew what he was doing was horrible, immoral, and very much unbecoming of a man like himself, but he just couldn't help it.

You always seemed to avoid Sanji compared to everyone else on the crew. The only opportunities he had to interact with you was when he was serving you food, or saving you in battle. Even then, you barely afforded him a glance.

The few moments that you acknowledged his presence were absolute blessings. He didn’t even care that most often you were glaring at him or sneering in his direction. In fact, he almost liked that better. His cock certainly did, with the way it stirred in his pants every time he saw you looking at him with disgust coating your features, and he had to conceal a boner whenever your hand would accidentally brush up against him.

His only relief came in the form of your panties. He had stumbled upon a pair when he was up early, preparing breakfast. It must have slipped from the rest of your laundry and you forgot about it. It was a thin pair, purple and lacy.

Sanji couldn’t control the way his body heated up just from seeing the pair. He made sure that no one was around, and picked up the pair. It was wrinkled, still dirty. You must’ve never even washed it yet.

Without thinking Sanji lifted the pair to his nose and took one long sniff. He had to bite his lip to contain his moan, and his cock sprang to life in his pants. He ran to the bathroom with your underwear in his hand, and jacked himself off to the smell of your pussy.

Now, Sanji has a routine. He knows exactly when you and Nami are out of the room, and during that time he’ll go in there, pick a new pair of panties, and jack off as he sticks his face in it. It was a foolproof plan, he thought, since you hadn’t caught him yet.

Today was no different. He makes sure no one else is around to see him, and slips in the women’s quarters. Making a beeline straight for where you keep your dirty laundry, he pulls out another pair. He hunkers down in the corner of your room, near your bed, and releases his cock from its constraints as he strokes himself off.

But then a door slams.

Sanji jumps up, hiding the panties behind his back. You’re never back this early, and despite the utter fear that rushes through his veins he can’t help but notice the way his cock throbs at the thought of being caught in the act by you.

“What are you doing?” You phrase it more like a statement than a question, anger clear in your tone.

Sanji blushes and his eyes widen. “N-nothing!” He fails to hide the amusement in his tone, and he knows you notice it too with the way your brow furrows and your eyes squint at him. 

You stomp on over to him, and he can see the glint of realization in your eyes when you spot the panties that he stole.

“It’s not what it—!” he’s interrupted by a kick in the gut from you. His stomach lurches from the force of it, but his cock stirs with aching need.

“Fucking pervert,” you growl out. “Stealing all my fucking underwear. I’ve got none left now!” You let out a frustrated groan and plop down onto your bed, crossing your arms as you glare down at him.

Despite how erect it is, Sanji attempts to tuck his cock back into his pants, partly in shame. He’s stopped by your foot pressing down on his hand. He looks up at you, quizzically, yet in a pleading manner.

“I’m not letting you get away with this,” you start. “If you’re that desperate to jerk off to me, then I want you to do it here.” Sanji can’t believe the words that leave your lips. His erection throbs and precum leaks from the lip, and he has to squeeze the base to keep himself from cumming at that very moment.

He gulps, tugging ever-so-lightly on his cock as he stares up at you. “In front of you?” he asks cautiously, desperately looking for your confirmation.

His answer comes in the form of a roll of your eyes, a snort and curt nod.

He doesn’t need anything else as he begins to stroke himself, hand slick from the wetness of his precum leaking out the tip. He hisses as he thumbs the head, squeezing the base so as to not cum so early in front of you and embarrass himself further.

Sanji strokes himself faster as he glances up at you and your disinterested face. It causes him to let out a shaky sigh, and rut even more intensely into his closed palm.

“Since you want to sniff me so badly,” you start to shimmy out of your bottoms, and Sanji thanks whatever god exists that he was holding onto his cock because he would have creamed himself right then and there.

You throw your shorts and underwear to the side and he has to do everything in his power not to pick them up from the ground. You spread your legs out in front of him, and Sanji just knows that he's drooling.

“You can sniff the real deal instead. Since I’m so nice.”

Sanji whines lowly in disappoint in not being able to fuck you, and of course, your sharp ears catch onto it.

“What, you thought that I would ever let you fuck me with that nub you call a cock? Yeah fucking right.”

You sit in front of him with your arms crossed, evaluating him. Heat rises to his face under the intensity of the stare. Even though you could give two shits about him, Sanji was just happy that your full attention was on him for the first time since he joined the crew.

“Th-thank you for letting me sniff you,” Sanji moans, and he desperately crawls closer to you, one hand still pumping his cock.

When he reaches your bare pussy, a strangled cry leaves his throat as he takes a big whiff. Your scent is just like the one he’s used to from your panties, only a hundred times stronger. His cock is sensitive from the force of his strokes, and unspilled tears form in his eyes from the different areas of stimulation.

One of your feet comes up to kick him gently in his cock, and he arches himself into your touch despite the pain. “Look at you. So pathetic,” you coo mockingly, laughing cruelly at the way Sanji reaches to smell your pussy to get himself off. “Aren’t you?” you ask him, albeit very forcefully.

Sanji gulps and nods. “I-I am,” he stutters out. “I’m pathetic.” His hand picks up speed, his orgasm so close as you spit curses at him and talk about him like he's just an ugly speck of dirt on the ground.

His moans and whimpers become louder and louder as he fucks into his own hand, bury ing his face as close to your pussy as you allow. The last straw comes when you pull on his hair, digging your fingers through the tresses.

“Such a fucking sorry excuse for a man,” is all you need to say and Sanji explodes, a mess of whines as cum spurts out of his cock in jets. It’s all over his body, the floor, your foot, and even the side of your bed.

He doesn’t open his eyes until his orgasm fully washes over him, and he pants rapidly, chest heaving up and down.

You barely react to it, just sneer at him. “You got your spunk all over me, you filthy mutt.” You shake your foot in disgust, but Sanji’s cum is too thick, it stays attached to where it landed.

Instead, you hold out your foot to him. “Clean it up,” you command. “With your tongue.”

“Of course, madam,” Sanji utters as he obediently dives in. He licks and sucks wherever he needs to, and eats his own cum without you even needing to tell him.

He even bends down to the floor, licking at the wooden surface where his cum landed. The hum of approval from your lips as he cleans up his mess has his cock stirring back to life.

When you’re fully cleaned up, you put your skirt back on and go back to ignoring Sanji, as if this whole encounter never happened.

“Can we do this again, madam?” he asks hesitantly.

You don’t even turn to look at him. “No. Now give me back my panties.”

[cherrrydragon]

➤ sweet

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read it on ao3

SUMMARY ↳ Peter Parker is sweet. The kind of sweet you can't get enough of. It kind of ruins your life. One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence. “Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness. pairing: tom!peter parker x fem!reader warnings: just reader having to watch the person she loves not love her. so basically all of us with our fav fictional characters tags/notes: MAJOR pining on reader's side, (not actually) unrequited love, 7k of this is just straight yap my bad, happy ending! wc: 8.5k

Peter Parker is a sweet boy.

He always has been. Even when people shunned him for no reason, he never shed that kind demeanor. He has remained unwaveringly gentle and compassionate.

Your first interaction with him is simply asking him for a pencil. You’ve just rushed into class, barely making it before the bell rang. As you fumble through your bag, you realize you forgot to pack a pencil. Hesitantly, you turn to the boy sitting next to you.

"Hey, uh, do you have an extra pencil I could borrow?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

Peter looks up from his notebook, his eyes meeting yours with a friendly, albeit slightly surprised, expression. He quickly reaches into his bag and hands you a pencil.

“Uh, yeah. here,” he smiled unsurely, handing you a pencil.

“Thanks,” you smile. You notice how he keeps his gaze on you for a moment before turning away.

The rest of the class goes by smoothly, thanks to Peter's pencil. As the teacher drones on, you can't help but sneak glances at Peter, noticing his focused expression as he takes notes diligently. There's something about him that draws you in—a quiet determination mixed with a genuine kindness.

When the bell rings, you suck in a breath and turn to him. “Hey,” you start, extending your hand holding his pencil. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

Peter takes the pencil, his fingers brushing against yours. “Uh, yeah. Yeah! No problem.” You think the way he stumbles over words is pretty cute.

Time to be bold. Go for it, [Name]! “Can I sit with you at lunch?”

Peter's eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by your request. He hesitates for a moment, then nods with a shy smile. “I just, I don’t really sit with anyone and you seem nice so–”

“Yes,” he blurts out, wide-eyed. “That’s cool.”

You feel a mix of relief and excitement. “Okay, see you then?”

He nods, a little late. You smile and walk off to your next class, feeling buzzy. You really are looking forward to knowing Peter.

You didn’t really notice him before. He was always in the background, never too far but never too close. He was just a boy you didn’t know, but knew of. But you saw, saw how he was always there, saw how he held the door open for others, saw how he kept his head down and never bothered anyone.

As you anticipate lunch, you imagine conversations, shared laughs, and maybe even a little bit of awkwardness, but in the best way possible. The anticipation grew with each passing period.

Woah, maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. He might think you’re, like, weird. You really hope he doesn’t.

As lunch finally approaches, you gather your things and head to the cafeteria, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You scan the room, looking for Peter, and spot him sitting not alone at a table near the window. There’s a boy next to him. His friend probably (who else would it be?). Taking a deep breath, you make your way over.

"Hey, Peter," you greet with a smile as you reach his table.

Peter looks up from his tray, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Hey," he responds, a bit more confidently than before.

You turn your attention over to his friend, who is looking at Peter, a bit surprised. “Hello.”

“Hey,” he greets you, discreetly elbowing Peter. “I’m Ned.”

“[Name],” you say.

“Why are you sitting here?” he asks bluntly. You blink at the abruptness of it as Peter hisses, “Ned!”

“Uh,” you stutter, suddenly feeling out of place. “I can go if you want–”

“No!” yelps Peter. “He’s just being stupid. What he means is that, well, we don’t really have any friends. But we’d–” he spares a subtle glare at Ned, “–like to be yours. If that’s what you want.” 

His eyes bore into yours earnestly. “Please stay.”

You pause for a moment, processing Peter's earnest plea. Ned looks a bit sheepish now, realizing his bluntness may have come off the wrong way. You glance between them and smile, feeling your nerves ease a bit.

The three of you start chatting, and you quickly find yourself laughing at their silly and nerdy jokes. You learn Peter is really into science and chemistry.

“You know Peter has an internship at Stark Industries?” says Ned, leaning in.

Peter stares at Ned hard. “Oh, really?” you hum.

Peter quickly tries to downplay it, waving his hand dismissively. "It's not a big deal, really. Just a lot of organizing and data entry," he says, clearly trying to stay humble.

You shrug. “I think it’s cool.” You do, you’re impressed.

A hint of a smile crawls on Peter’s face.

When the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, you feel a pang of disappointment. But Peter looks at you with a hopeful expression. "Um, do you want to sit with us again tomorrow?"

You stare at him earnestly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” he nods, more so to himself. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

From then on, you become a part of their group, officially Peter’s friend. You learn that Peter is not just smart, but also incredibly kind-hearted. He always goes out of his way to help others, even if it means sacrificing his own time. The bond between you strengthens, and soon you're sharing inside jokes and stories about your classes.

You somehow manage to land yourself a spot on the Academic Decathlon (no, not because Peter’s on the team). But, to be honest, you wouldn’t have tried if not for him. You’ve never considered yourself all that smart, you don’t really try that hard in school. Peter says you’re ‘naturally smart.’ You never gave it much thought, but a compliment from him makes you happy.

“You got this,” Peter assures you before every practice.

One day, during lunch, it’s the same as any other. You three are sitting together, not really eating your food, too focused on talking. Then, Peter speaks up, and it kind of throws off your whole existence.

“Did Liz get a new top?” His face is resting on his hand as he stares at the girl. You’ve always thought Liz was pretty, and what makes that even more unfair is that she’s nice. She helped you find your way to your class on time, and you have a bad habit of being willing to die for people once they show you even the smallest amount of kindness.

“No. We’ve seen that before, but never with that skirt,” replies Ned.

Liz waves at a couple of girls that greet her. You think her voice is pretty.

“We should probably stop staring before it gets creepy though,” notes Peter, still looking at her.

“Too late,” comes a voice at the end of the table. A girl, unbothered and doing her own thing. Oh, that’s MJ. “You guys are losers,” she says, unapologetic. “Except for [Name]. Hi, [Name].”

You wave at her. “Hi, MJ.”

Peter raises his hand in confusion, looking at you for answers. You shrug, not having any. That’s just how MJ is.

“Well, then why do you sit with us?” asks Ned.

MJ flicks her hair out of her face. “Because I don’t have any friends.”

And ain’t that the truth.

“Let’s move to the next question,” hums Liz, flicking through index cards. “What is the heaviest naturally-occurring element?”

You’re not really paying much attention to practice, even though you really should be. You’re too busy staring at Peter.

“Peter, it’s nationals,” you hear. “Is there now way you could take one weekend off?”

Wait, Peter’s not going to nationals?

“I can’t go to Washington. If Mr. Stark needs me, I have to make sure I’m here.” Well, you do like a man who has his priorities straight.

“You’ve never even been in the same room as Tony Stark,” says Flash, doing absolutely jack shit across the room. His voice grates your ears.

“Wait, what’s happening?”

“Peter’s not going to Washington.”

“No, no, no, no.” Felt that.

“Really? Right before Nationals?” asks Liz, wincing at him disapprovingly.

“He already quit marching band and robotics lab,” hums MJ, reading her book. Your fellow members turn to look at her. You know that, but why does she? “I’m not obsessed with him. Just very observant.” Well, you are obsessed with him. Just a little. A healthy amount.

Liz says something to Flash, and at the mention of him you automatically zone him out. You spend the time staring at Peter, who briefly glances at you before looking behind him at the ticking clock.

The rest of the day he’s tapping his fingers against the desk and moving his leg up and down. You barely manage to catch him at the door before he runs off. Peter looks at you, momentarily startled as you catch up to him. He gives you a quick smile, though you can tell his mind is elsewhere.

“Peter,” you say, frowning slightly. “Why aren’t you coming?”

He shrugs, trying to appear casual. “You know already, [Name]. The internship is really important. I gotta be ready at any time.”

“Tony Stark can’t spare you one day?” You raise a brow at him. “I think that goes against some kind of labor law.”

Peter furrows his brows, taken aback. “No, it’s not like that,” he defends quickly, shifting uncomfortably. “Mr. Stark… relies on me. I don’t wanna let him down.”

You give him a sympathetic look. “You’re really smart, Peter. There’s no way that’s possible.”

His gaze softens, smiling secretly to himself. You lightly punch his shoulder, and he gives you a mock offended look. “You’re the whole reason I even joined, and now you’re bailing on the most important day? Fake friends, I swear.” You’re mostly joking, it’s not that big of a deal. But you still would’ve liked him to be there with you.

He chuckles softly, rubbing the spots you hit him (dramatic, you barely touched him). “You’re smart, [Name]. You don’t need me.”

Yeah, you don’t need him, but you want him.

He grabs your hand and squeezes it tightly, briefly, before turning and walking away. “I’ll make it up to you, promise!”

Your heart skips a beat, at both his gesture and his words. “Okay,” you say softly, knowing he’s already gone.

“Hi. I’m Captain America. Whether you’re in the classroom or on the battlefield…”

You wonder how they convinced this guy to stand in front of a camera and yap to a bunch of high schoolers who just simply don’t care. Peter and Ned are mumbling about something, too hushed for you to hear.

“Isn’t he like a war criminal, now?” you mutter. Peter leans in to you to hear better.

He chuckles softly, breath tickling your ear. His proximity sends a warm shiver down your spine. “Sucks, he’s kind of cute.”

Peter chokes, looking at you in surprise. “In, like, a celebrity crush kind of way,” you shrug.

Peter’s face flushes a soft pink, and he clears his throat, trying to regain his composure. “Yeah, um, I guess? I didn’t think you’d like older guys…?” He trails off, fumbling with his fingers. His awkwardness only makes him more endearing.

Ned snickers beside him. “You’re not wrong. Captain America’s got that whole classic charm thing going on.”

Peter shoots him a look. “Dude.”

It’s only natural you and MJ pair up for the exercises. Though, to be fair, you’re not really doing much exercising. Instead, you’re too busy ogling Peter.

“You’re down horrendously bad,” says MJ, unapologetic.

You blink, looking down at her. “Huh.”

“You know what I’m talking about.” She looks unimpressed by your attempt to seem unaware.

The way Peter effortlessly does pull-ups is doing something to you, and it’s really embarrassing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do,” she snorts. You watch as Peter flicks his attention over to… Liz. Always Liz. Never you.

“Is he staring at her again?” MJ asks, looking over. Your heart sinks a little.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mutter. “He’s just my friend.”

MJ raises an eyebrow, studying you for a moment before shrugging. “If you say so.”

“Peter knows Spider-Man!”

The entire gym looks over at Ned and Peter. Um. What was that, Ned? Peter gets up, sputtering and denying Ned’s claim.

“They’re friends,” says Ned.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Your nose scrunches up at Flash’s words. MJ catches it and nods her approval.

Peter glances around nervously, his eyes meeting yours for a split second before darting away. You feel bad for him, even if he doesn’t have need for anyone’s pity. Peter is cool, and really smart. He’s also really cute, and he bites his lip when he’s focused on something. He can’t sit still for very long, and he has a bad habit of running his fingers through his hair when–

Yikes, girl. Focus.

Wait, Liz’s party?

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight. You’re more than welcome to come,” she nods, demeanor kind of shy.

“Having a party?” Peter’s voice is breathy, and it makes your fingers clench.

The bell rings before Peter can decline (or accept, because why would he ever decline?) and Liz spares him a look as she walks away. Peter looks up at the ceiling in frustration, turning to Ned to snarl something at him.

Probably upset because Flash made fun of him in front of the girl he likes, you think miserably.

You help MJ up off the floor, waving her goodbye as she leaves. Your legs are barely able to talk you towards the door, wanting to go over to Peter. You can’t take your eyes off him, but you know you have to, so you tear them away and walk out.

As you walk away, you can't help but feel a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. Peter's feelings for Liz are clear, but you can't deny your own growing affection for him.

“[Name]!” Peter’s voice is very recognizable (to you at least). You hear his footsteps rush over, coming to a stop by your side. You turn to face him, your heart pounding. "Hey, Peter," you say, trying to sound casual.

He looks at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something else you can't quite place. "Hey, uh, I just wanted to say... about what Ned said earlier. I mean, he's just being, you know, Ned."

You nod. “It’s okay Peter, I think it’s cool you know Spider-Man.” Everything about him is cool.

Peter’s eyes widen slightly at your words. "Really? You do?" He seems both relieved and surprised by your reaction. He crosses his arms, trying to seem casual. “And, uh… what do you think about Spider-Man?”

Peter's question catches you off guard. You stare at him, a bit taken aback by his curiosity. “Well, I think he’s a hero,” you shrug. “Reliable.”

Peter kind of… stares. In awe of you. Then he snaps out of it, cheeks flushing as he looks down.

He clears his throat, changing the subject. “So, uh… you going to Liz’s party?”

You hadn't considered it, but the idea of spending more time with Peter, even if Liz is there, is tempting. Even so…

You purse your lips. “Probably not.”

He furrows his brows. “What? Who am I gonna go with?”

You snort. “Ned? Who else?”

“You.” He says it so absolutely it almost makes you fall to your knees. The idea is both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking. The last thing you want is to feel out of place at a party, especially with your growing feelings for Peter.

“You want me to go with you?” you ask, trying to sound nonchalant even though your heart is racing.

Peter nods earnestly, his gaze locking onto yours. “Yeah. I mean, if you’re up for it. It’d be… nice.”

“I’ll… think about it.”

Peter’s face brightens up instantly, a mixture of relief and excitement evident. “Ok. Cool! I’ll, um. Hope to see you there.” And then he’s off to do his own thing.

When you arrive at Liz's house, you immediately spot MJ, and it puts your mind at ease. She’s in her own world, happy to snack on the foods there. She looks up as you approach.

“Sup.”

“Hi.”

You stand together awkwardly. Well, you’re awkward, and she’s cool. The party is in full swing, with music playing and people milling about, making the large living room feel even more crowded.

It’s embarrassing how fast you spot Peter. It’s as soon as he arrives. He’s decided to keep it casual, but you think he looks good. Really good. God, MJ was right, you are down bad.

Speaking of which, she nudges you and nods her head in Peter and Ned’s direction. “You should go say hi to him.”

“But…” Liz is there. To be fair, she’s probably only greeting them. Saying ‘thanks for coming’ you know. But even so… you’re not sure you want to watch Peter’s attention stay on Liz when you’re also there.

You take a deep breath and muster up the courage to approach Peter. MJ gives you a supportive nod, and you make your way over to them.

“Hi, Peter,” you greet, trying to sound casual despite the fluttering in your chest.

Peter turns to you, his face lighting up with a genuine smile that makes your stomach flip. “[Name]! You’re here.” His eyes are warm and welcoming, and for a moment, you forget about the rest of the party.

You nod, peering around him to greet Ned. “Hi, Ned.”

He gives you a small wave. “Hey, [Name].”

Peter's smile widens as he steps a little closer to you, clearly excited that you're there. His eyes roam your figure. “You look good.”

Your face warms. “Thanks. You too.”

“Dude. Peter,” says Ned, grabbing Peter’s arm. He begins to pull Peter away. “Sorry, [Name]. Gotta talk to him about something.” Peter looks affronted by Ned’s behavior, sending an apologetic glance your way.

You watch as Peter and Ned head off to the side, leaving you standing by yourself. A little awkwardly, you try to blend in with the crowd, scanning the room.

“Penis Parker, what’s up?”

Ugh, Flash. Who let him on the sound desk? He says a few mocking words, and suddenly Peter’s walking off somewhere.

You jog to catch up to him. “Peter, please don’t listen to Flash. He’s just an asshole.”

Peter stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a mixture of surprise and frustration. He opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it, clearly struggling to find the right words.

“[Name],” he starts, voice honey sweet, “I’m not worried about Flash, I just…” He looks around for a moment, searching for whatever words he wants to say. “I gotta go do something. I’ll be back.”

You watch as Peter rushes out of the house, deflated. You feel a mixture of concern and confusion. The party goes on as if nothing happened, but your thoughts are entirely focused on him.

In a moment of impulsiveness, you decide to follow him. The cool night air hits you as you step out onto the porch, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Peter. Damn, where did he go? He’s fast. You walk down the front steps, glancing around. “Peter!” you call out, trying to catch his attention.

A movement catches your eye. Around the side of the house, on top of the neighboring ledge, there’s someone there. Your ears can barely pick up the rustling of clothes. Weird place to change clothes. How the hell did that guy even up there?

Wait a damn minute.

That guy is Peter. How the hell did he get up there so damn quick?

You keep yourself pressed against the wall, peeking around the corner. Why the hell is Peter even changing his clothes? He looks fine. Good, even. Wait, he’s changing his clothes. Maybe you shouldn't be spying on him, that’s weird. Oh, wait, he’s wearing something underneath. Something red and black, with web patterns on and a spider symbol on his chest.

…

Oh. Oh!

What the fuck!

As Peter pulls his undershirt off, you get a glimpse of him in his full Spider-Man glory. Holy shit, Peter Parker is Spider-Man. You knew there was something special about him, but this? This is a whole different level. The red and black suit, with its sleek, form-fitting design, is unmistakable. The spider emblem on his chest is a dead giveaway.

You swallow down the knot in your throat, willing your body to turn and go back inside.

He doesn’t come back.

You leave when Flash starts his ‘when I say Penis, you say Parker’ chant.

The yellow blazer feels tacky, but you’re required to wear it as part of the Academic Decathlon. Though, MJ isn’t wearing hers, so maybe you can get away with taking it off until you get to D.C.. But MJ is MJ.

“Hey, it’s Peter!”

What.

You turn around, seeing Peter run up to your group. Peter’s face is bright with excitement as he approaches your group. His usual nervousness is replaced by an eagerness you haven’t seen before. It’s like a different side of him is on display.

“I was hoping I could rejoin the team,” he says, looking at Liz.

And he’s welcomed back with open arms. He decides to sit next to you. You’re pretty sure because it’s closest to Liz, and because Ned has decided to sit in the back. You wonder if Ned knows his identity.

He nudges you with his arm. You’re snapped back to reality, looking at him. He’s staring at you, brows furrowed just the smallest bit. You feel your traitorous heart skip a beat, like it always does when he’s around.

“You okay? You’re quiet,” he murmurs, voice low.

You manage to nod, not having much to say. Are you mad that Peter kept this secret from you? No, of course not. There was never any obligation for him to tell you, or even anyone. It’s a pretty big secret to have, after all. Though, now you wonder if him being Spider-Man has something to do with that Stark internship…

Peter’s eyes linger on you, a mix of concern and curiosity. You can sense he’s trying to gauge how you’re feeling. It’s a little uncomfortable, you’ve never really had to lie to him before, and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to. You’ve just discovered one of the biggest secrets in your life, and it’s about someone who’s become so important to you.

His phone starts ringing. You peak at it, someone by the name of ‘Happy’. Weird name, but okay. He moves to the back of the bus to take, settling in next to Ned.

You sigh, slouching in your seat. You can’t believe your life.

At least you get to room with MJ. You’re just about to fall asleep when Liz comes knocking on your door, saying that she and the rest of the team are going to sneak down to the pool. MJ decides she’s going to come. For ‘enrichment’ she says. You on the other hand… kind of just want to stay inside right now.

Until another knock on your door rouses you from your would-be sleep. Again . You grumble as you make your way to your door, opening it to find Peter, his face a mix of uncertainty and hopefulness. “Hey,” he says, looking nervous. His hood is over his head. You think he’s got his suit under there.

You don’t bother trying to fix up your appearance since you truly doubt he doesn’t see you like that. “Hello?”

“Uh,” he mumbles, gesturing away from him. “You… weren’t with the others. Are you not going to go with them? To the pool?

You shake your head. “No, not feeling it.”

“Oh,” he nods, like it was obvious. “Are you, sick or something?”

“No.” You don’t mean to be blunt with him, but you don’t really know how to act around him anymore.

“Oh, Okay.” He shifts back and forth on his feet. “Can I come in?”

You open the door wider to let him in, never able to say no to him. Peter steps are hesitant and awkward, deciding to sit on the leaning against your bed, while you sit on the mattress.

“So..?” you prompt.

Peter licks his lips, looking down to fiddle with the hem of his hoodie. “I, um, wanted to talk. About... the party. Liz’s party.” For a moment, your heart races. Did he know you were there? He glances up, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and determination. “I didn’t mean to, uh, leave you hanging. I just... had to go take care of something.”

You nod, understanding differently to what he knows. “It’s okay, Peter. I get it. I mean, you had... you had something important to do.”

Peter takes a deep breath, clearly relieved by your reaction. “I just... I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you or anything. I shouldn’t have left you hanging like that.”

Peter’s earnestness tugs at your chest. He’s going to give you a damn sweet tooth. You can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and frustration. “Peter, it’s fine,” you say softly. “You don’t owe me any explanations.”

He shakes his head, his expression earnest. “But I do. I care about you, and I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us.”

Your heart skips another traitorous beat at his words. His sincerity is disarming, and you find yourself wanting to reassure him, even though you’re the one grappling with this newfound knowledge about his double life. Why does he have to say things like that?

“Are you not going to the pool?” you ask, gesturing to his get-up.

He scratches his cheek, shaking his head. “No I… gotta… do something.” His voice gets quieter the more he speaks, realizing he’s just quoted the very thing he just apologized for. You snort, unable to help yourself in reaching out a brushing a curl away from his face. His eyes soften, and he reaches out, tentatively taking your hand.

Your fingers brush against his, and there's a moment of silence as you both just look at each other. Peter’s grip is gentle, as if he's afraid of pushing too much, too soon. You feel the warmth of his hand, and for a second, you forget about the secrets and the confusion.

After a moment, Peter clears his throat, his expression shifting back to a more familiar, awkward smile. You snap back to reality. “You should, uh, probably go do that thing.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes. “Yup. Gonna go do that thing now.”

He’s out the door before you can blink.

Peter doesn’t come back in time for the Academic Decathlon. MJ wins you the last point, anyway.

You’re just out of earshot as Ned talks to what you assume is Peter on the phone. You look away when Liz takes the phone and begins to speak to him.

Your coach decides it’ll be fun to have a tour of the Washington Monument. You zone out during the long elevator ride, thoughts drifting to Peter. Always Peter. You wonder if you were his girlfriend, would he look to you to patch him up when patrol gets rough? Would he take you away, swinging through the night while he tells you how pretty you look–

There’s a bright light, and everything goes deafening as a loud sound explodes within the elevator. Everything comes to a stop. Ned throws his backpack on the ground, frightened.

“Oh my God. Look at the ceiling.” There’s terrifying scorch marks on it.

“Just stay calm, everyone.”

“Oh, we are all going to die here.”

You don’t listen to anymore of what anyone has to say, too focused on steadying yourself against the wall. Holy shit. Peter better be hauling ass back here, now .

Security pushes the failing doors open, and the elevator hatch is opened as your group is prepared for evacuation. It’s a scary process, and you feel like you’re just waiting for the elevator to give up and start plummeting.

Flash, always an asshole, shoves Liz out of the way, taking the trophy with him. You scoff in disbelief as he says, “Take my trophy!” ready to give him a piece of your mind, because by God, you are in a life or death situation and he still finds the time of day to be himself–

Speaking of death.

The elevator just gave up.

You are actively falling to your resting place right now.

You can’t hear anything over the sound of everybody else’s scream. You can’t even bring yourself to scream. Even as you’re about to die, you hold yourself back, just as you always have. You’ve held yourself back when it comes to school, not putting in as much effort as you could’ve, and you’ve held yourself back from telling Peter how you feel.

Now you’ll never get too.

Except the elevator jerks to a stop, almost sending you to the floor.

There’s a web attached to the top. You can barely see a red clad figure connected to it.

Nevermind, maybe you will get to.

And then the doors he’s held up against break off the hinges and you’re falling again, spider included like a package deal. The damned box catches itself on something, and the love of your life has a rough landing as he falls into the elevator with you. Oof.

Unfortunately his impact knocks the elevator off, and you’re falling. Again. If you make it out of this alive, you’re going to take a five year nap. Peter, with all of his amazing smarts, sends a web to the top of the shaft and plants himself upside down in the elevator, stopping the thing.

He clears his throat. “Hey, how you doing? Don’t worry. I got you.” Why do you love this loser.

You stand with your whole body tense as Peter makes the perilous journey of dragging your group back up, slowly and steadily. You’re gripping the handrail so tightly your knuckles turn white. Every jolt and creak of the elevator feels like a death sentence. But Peter – no, Spider-Man – is pulling you up, inch by inch.

Ned is out first, then Mr. Harrington, and Liz clutches your hand tightly as it’s just the two of you left.

But then the floor shoots out from under your feet. Liz, ever so pretty and ever so brave, jumps out, reaching a hand for Spider-Man.

She misses, and for a split second it’s just you and her falling. And then there’s a thwip sound and suddenly you’re not falling. You’re just hanging. Hanging by a thread. Or a web, you should say.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.” It’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Spider-Man grips Liz’s hand so tight and so assuredly, you feel like everything’s okay. Liz’s hand feels warm. Really warm. Probably all the sweat from it.

The sweat from it.

Sweat that’s making your grip come loose.

Liz looks down, terrified. “She’s slipping.”

“What–” chokes Peter.

And your hand falls from her grip. This time, you let yourself scream. The mask Peter wears gets tinier and tinier as you fall. The sensation of free-fall is overwhelming. It’s like you’re completely weightless. You wonder if this is how Peter feels when he’s swinging through New York. You also wonder he ever feels the twisting of your stomach.

You feel something wrap around your waist tightly. You’re yanked back up with a sharp tug. The warmth of an arm is something you’re not all that foreign to. You’ve been hugged by your family and friends before. But not like this. It… kind of feels like home.

“I got you, [Name].” Is whispered in your ear like a prayer. “I won’t let you fall.”

Peter’s voice in your ear is like a lifeline, pulling you out of the chaos and fear. The sheer relief of his presence makes your heart pound in your chest. You cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as he swings you both out of the elevator shaft and onto the relative safety of the doorway.

You can hear the panicked voices of your friends, but all you can focus on is Peter, his breath coming in quick gasps, his suit slightly torn but his grip on you unyielding. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice trembling slightly.

You can only nod, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. Tears blur your vision as you look at him, your best friend, your hero, the boy you've been in love with for so long.

"You saved me," you whisper, your voice breaking.

Peter tilts his head, voice  a little wobbly but genuine. "Couldn't let you fall," he says simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He gently lets go of you, leaving you to connect back to the real world again.

“So, uh, is everyone okay?” And just like that, things go back to the way they were.

Then the piece of metal he’s hanging upside-down from breaks off, and he’s falling down the shaft.

He’ll be fine.

The school news plays on a nearby team, retelling the events in which you almost died. Weird flex, but okay.

You’re on your way to your next class when arms suddenly wrap around you. You blink. Uh…

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” says a sweet voice. Ah, Peter. Who else but Peter? You smile and melt into his embrace. “Hi, Peter.”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if checking for any hidden injuries. “You sure you’re alright? That was... intense.”

You shrug. “Yeah.” Then, you feel like being mean. Only a little bit. As a treat. “How would you know, though? You weren’t there.”

Peter’s eyes widen in confusion, a frown pulling at his lips. “What do you mean? I was there. I–” Then he stops himself. He was there, just not as Peter. You raise a brow.

Peter’s face goes through a series of expressions—confusion, realization, and finally, a nervous chuckle. “Oh. Right.” He scratches the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just–”

You roll your eyes halfheartedly. “Had to do that thing, I know.” Maybe you’d be more upset if you didn’t know any better, but you do. Maybe you’re just tired from everything.

Peter’s apology falters as he looks at you with those big, apologetic eyes. He seems so earnest, so genuinely concerned. He gives you those puppy dog eyes, filled with guilt and embarrassment.

“Look,” you say, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, “it’s fine. Really. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

“Come on,” he whines halfheartedly. “Let me make it up to you.”

You look at Peter, a mix of exhaustion and affection in your eyes. Despite everything that happened, you can’t help but find his earnestness endearing. “Alright,” you say, managing a small smile. “Here’s my proposal.”

Peter's eyes light up with a hopeful glimmer, and he leans in closer, eager to hear your proposal. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day lifting off your shoulders as you prepare to make your request.

“If neither of us get a homecoming date,” you begin, watching as Peter’s eyes flick back and forth between yours, “we’ll go together.”

Peter's eyes widen with surprise and a hint of nervousness. For a moment, he seems lost in thought, processing your proposal. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady his racing heart, and then he nods with a flushed face.

"Deal," he says, his voice steadying. "But let's hope neither of us ends up dateless, okay? I mean, it's homecoming. It should be fun."

His words kind of sting. He basically just said he hopes he can find a date that’s not you. You’re not sure if the fact that he’s willing to go with you if things don’t work out is a good thing or not.

“Yeah, let’s hope,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light. Peter gives you a reassuring smile, though there’s an awkward tension between you now.

“Parker, my office.”

Peter looks at you exasperated. You shrug. Looks like Peter has detention.

The next couple of days, Peter looks down in the dumps.

He just seems… less like himself. Still as sweet as ever, holding doors open for you and carrying your bag. It’s hard to miss the way his usual enthusiasm is replaced by a constant air of melancholy.

You notice him moping in the hallways, his usual banter replaced by awkward silences. In class, he doesn’t seem any different, but you can tell the way he zones out when he’s not answering a question.

You try to give him space, but it’s hard to ignore the sense of worry you feel. You don’t want to pry, but you also don’t want him to sink into a deeper funk. Perhaps it’s in your nature to want to make him happy.

May greets you with a smile when she sees you on your doorstep. She’s always been kind to you. Maybe too kind. May always let little teasing comments about you too getting together slip. Peter always waved away her comments, chuckling awkwardly and saying ‘she’s just kidding’. Not very healthy for your heart.

Peter’s sitting on his bed, lost in thought. He jerks up as soon as you enter, staring at you in surprise. “[Name]!”

“Hi,” you greet, coming to sit next to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I can leave if you want,” you hum, point a thumb out the door. It’s mostly a joke, you really hope he doesn’t actually want you to leave.

Peter looks a bit flustered by your presence. “No, no, don’t go. I just… didn’t know you were coming.”

You lean back on your hands. “Well, when you’ve been acting weird the last couple of days, I’m gonna get worried.”

Peter slumps in on himself, sighing. He contemplates for a second before meeting your eyes. “I lost the internship.”

The internship. The Stark internship. The one you’re pretty sure is a cover for him being Spider-Man. Who hasn’t been active in a couple of days. Oh.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Peter, I’m so sorry.”

Peter nods, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah, well, it’s my own fault. I was… I messed up. Tried to overcompensate, and it didn’t work out.”

You can see the frustration and disappointment in his eyes. He’s always been so driven, so dedicated. To see him like this, struggling with something that clearly matters to him, tugs at your heartstrings.

“It’s not your fault,” you say gently, trying to offer him some comfort. “Sometimes things just don’t go as planned, no matter how hard you try.”

Peter offers a small, bitter smile. “I guess. It’s just… I don’t know.” He looks in a faraway corner. “It was all I had.”

You purse your lips, wanting to scream ‘you have me!’, but you can’t bring yourself to.

Peter clears his throat. “At least I got that date with Liz.”

…Huh?

You think there’s a ringing in your ears. Your heart sinks as Peter mentions Liz. It feels like a punch to the gut. You try to mask your surprise, keeping your tone steady. "Wait, you got a date with Liz?"

“Yeah…” he chuckles shyly. “I asked her to homecoming. She said yes.”

You nod slowly, trying to process this new information. It's not exactly a blow to your heart, but it's definitely unsettling. Peter, the person you’ve had feelings for, is going out with someone else.

Though, you shouldn’t be surprised, really. You knew Peter liked Liz. If the way he stared at her wasn’t obvious enough, then the fact that he asked her to hoco is. And the fact that she said yes… God, you need to get over yourself. It’s not the end of the world. You just…

You really wanted to go with him.

“So… who’s your date?” he asks, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You bring your legs up, wrapping your arms around them. “Nobody. I think… I’m not gonna go.”

Peter’s face falls at your words. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it, clearly at a loss for words. “Why not?”

You shrug. “I don’t have a date. Don’t wanna go alone.”

He furrows his brows. “I thought you did.”

Now it’s your turn to look confused. “No. Why did you think that?”

“You…” he trails off, looking lost. “I heard you. Talking about your crush”

“When did you hear that?”

He gulps, turning away guiltily. “In. Gym… class.”

You take a moment to think back. The only time you ever talked about your crush in gym was with MJ, that time Ned mentioned Peter knows Spider-Man. But that time…

“How did you hear that?” you ask, kind of knowing the answer. “You were, like, twenty feet away from me.”

He blushes. “I, uh… have really good hearing?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Whatever. At least you didn’t mention Peter’s name. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t like me back. So.”

Peter’s face softens as he processes your words, a mixture of guilt and concern evident in his expression. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly.

“Don’t be. He likes someone else. Can’t be helped.”

Peter is silent for a moment, his eyes searching your face as if trying to gauge your feelings. There’s a tension in the air, a weight that seems to hang between you. He opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out.

You breathe, patting your thighs as you stand up. “Hope you have fun, though.”

Peter watches you go, feeling like he missed something.

True to your word, you don’t go to homecoming. You spend the night watching a movie and eating popcorn. You don’t cry, but you do sniffle.

You catch wind of the battle between this guy (Liz’s dad , holy shit, you hope she’s doing okay) and Spider-Man. The next time you see him at school, you run up to him.

“Peter!” you shout.

Peter snaps out of his thoughts, turning to you. A small smile creeps up on his face at the sight of you. “Hey, what’s up–”

His words stutter to a stop as your arms wrap around him. Peter freezes for a moment, clearly taken aback by your sudden hug. Slowly, his arms come up to return the embrace, holding you tightly. He feels warm and solid against you, a comforting presence despite everything that's happened.

“What’s wrong?” he asks softly.

You melt into his embrace. “Just glad you’re okay.”

He pulls back to look at you, arms dropping to hang around your waist. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You can’t help yourself, cupping his cheek gently. Peter's eyes widen slightly at the tenderness of your touch. For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher the reason behind your concern. He ever so slightly leans into your hand, doe eyes looking into you.

“You’ve just… been through a lot lately,” you decide to say.

Peter takes a deep breath, his gaze dropping to your hands resting on his cheek. He seems to be grappling with his emotions, his usual composure wavering. “I didn’t realize you were so concerned,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smile gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Of course I am. You’re important to me, Peter.”

Peter’s mouth opens and closes, unable to form words. He gulps, shifting on his feet. The tension in the air is thicker than it’s ever been, though you can’t tell why.

Peter thinks he just had an epiphany.

He takes a deep breath, hands on your waist tightening. “Hey, um. Can I… can we talk later? After school?”

You nod. “Yeah, of course.”

Peter nods as well. “Cool, cool.” His hands fall from your waist when his phone buzzes, and you finally feel like you can breathe. “I gotta take this,” he says, already walking away from you.

Peter texts you before the last bell rings, saying that something came up and if you can push your talk a few hours ahead. Your fingers shake as you type out your reply agreeing. You do your homework in silence, foot tapping up and down nervously. The sun is on the cusp of setting when there’s a knock on your door.

“Hey,” Peter greets you when you open it. He looks out of breath, like he just ran here.

“Hey,” you respond, trying to keep your voice steady.

Peter shifts nervously on his feet, glancing around before focusing on you. “You’re parents home?”

You raise a brow. “No..?”

“Good.” He moves past you, making his way to your living room. You close the door and follow him, heart pounding in your chest. Peter paces for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning to face you.

“I,” he starts, voice unsteady, “have been doing a lot of thinking.”

You remain silent, waiting for him to continue. Peter runs a hand through his hair, clearly struggling to find the right words. “I’ve been focused on the wrong things. I know I haven’t really… been there. So, I’m sorry for that.” He wrings his hands together. You watch Peter with a mixture of anticipation and concern, your heart racing as he continues to struggle with his words.

“And, um, I guess, what I’m trying to say is…” He looks directly into your eyes, a mixture of vulnerability and resolve in his expression. He takes a deep breath.

“I–”

“–Know,” you blurt.

Peter’s mouth flops open like a fish out of water. “Uh. What?”

You purse your lips. Cat’s out of the bag. “I know you’re Spider-Man.”

Peter stares incredulously at you. “I… saw. When you went outside to change at Liz’s party. You just left, and I followed you, and for some reason you were changing in front of a big ass window without your mask on? So, literally anyone could’ve saw you, so that might be more your fault than mine–”

“[Name].” Peter's voice cuts through your rambling, and he takes a step closer, hands coming to grasp yours. “You… know?”

You gulp. “Well, yeah? That’s what I just said.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, shoulders hunching. He brings your hands up to his mouth, lightly kissing them. It sends your heart cracking through your ribs. “[Name], that’s not what I was gonna say.”

You look up at Peter, confusion and anticipation mingling in your eyes. He seems almost relieved, a soft smile gracing his lips as he holds your hands close. The moment feels suspended, and you can hear the quiet hum of the evening outside, adding to the atmosphere of calm and intensity.

“I like you. I really like you.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat, the words sinking in as if time has momentarily stopped. Peter’s eyes are locked on yours, filled with sincerity and a vulnerability that’s rare to see from him. The warmth of his hands around yours feels electrifying, grounding you in the moment.

“...I thought you liked Liz,” you whisper.

“I thought I did too,” he mutters, close. “But I was being stupid. I thought you liked someone else, so I stayed away.” He shakes his head. “But I can’t anymore.”

“How do you know it’s you I like?” you croak.

“Apart from you basically just admitting it?” He smiles cheekily. “MJ told me.”

You click your tongue. “Meddler.”

“She said she got tired of our bullshit.”

You giggle quietly, head dropping. Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of you, biting his lip in anticipation. You squeeze his hands gently, still processing the whirlwind of emotions. “So, what now?”

Peter’s expression softens, and he takes another step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “Can I… can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart flutters at his words. “Yes,” you say, almost breathless.

Peter leans in slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as his lips meet yours in a gentle, tender kiss. It’s a kiss filled with all the unspoken emotions, a release of the tension and a celebration of what’s finally come to light. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect, shared moment.

As Peter's lips linger on yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate yet still tender. You feel the warmth of his body, the soft pressure of his lips, and the gentle caress of his hands around yours. The kiss seems to hold everything that had been unsaid, all the confusion, the longing, and the relief of finally being on the same page

When you finally pull back, both of you are smiling, the weight of recent days seeming lighter. Peter’s eyes are full of warmth and affection, and he holds you close, his forehead resting against yours.

“Will you, um… be my–”

“–Guy in the chair? Sure, Pete. It’d be my pleasure.”

Peter hides his grin in your neck. “Sorry. Ned beat you to it.”

“Barely seconds into this relationship and you’ve already betrayed me,” you scoff playfully.

“So we’re dating now?” His voice sounds hopeful.

“Duh.” You’ve never been more sure. “Pete, I’ve been down bad for you ever since you gave me that pencil.”

He pulls back, looking at you with heartbreaking eyes. He leans in to kiss you on the forehead, then pulls back slightly, his expression soft and sincere. "I’m really sorry about homecoming. I’ll take you to prom and we’ll have the best night of our lives.”

You’re pretty sure the best night of your life will be when you and Peter get married, but maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. “I heard you dumped her there as soon as you got there, anyway. If you ever do that to me I’ll make sure you can never be Spider-Man again.”

He nods his head seriously. “Yes, ma’am.” Then he grins, giddy with the outcome of the situation. “I’ll still make it up to you.”

“I can think of a few ways.”

He blushes, scandalized. “[Name]!”

“Down bad for a long time, Pete,” you remind him. “Like I said, my parents aren’t here…”

He scoffs, shoving you away slightly before pulling you back to him, not willing to let you go after he finally has you. The two of you stand there, holding each other, savoring the quiet and the closeness. The weight of the past few days lifts, replaced by a renewed sense of connection and possibility. It feels like the beginning of something new and wonderful, a chance to explore this newfound closeness and see where it takes you both.

“Can we just. Go out to dinner or something?” he asks, thumb rubbing at your waist. “We could use some celebration, I think."

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth at his thoughtfulness. "That sounds perfect."

As you both head out the door, hand in hand, the evening feels full of promise. With the uncertainties of the past few days behind you, you're ready to embrace whatever comes next—together.

notes: i wanted reader to drop the "i know ur spiderman" bomb and somehow find a way out of the conversation and now peter has to try to confess to them but he just cant get a hold of them for whatever reason. but that would be like a whole nother 3k or more words and like... this fic already too long LOL

thanks for reading !!

[myfictionaldreams]

hi! i loved pain over pleasure! especially the part where there’s sexual interactions between the three men other than just focusing on the reader. i’d like to request something slightly similar. reader gets punished by watching sirius suck remus and r can’t do anything than just sit and watch. then james walks in and instead of going to reader to save her from moony’s punishment (like he usually does) he joins the other two. it’s totally okay if you don’t go through with this. i just really loved pain over pleasure. thanks!!!!

Horny Little Devil // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request and for showing your love with Pain Over Pleasure!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, bdsm, brat reader, punishment, teasing, edging, restraints, begging, deepthroat/oral sex, cum swallowing, cum sharing, anal sex, vibrators, overstimulation, subspace, pet names, being ignored, anxiety not beta read

Words:3.3 k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Needy was the word you would use to describe your feelings today. Sirius on the other hand would describe you as a horny little devil, but could he truly blame you? Dating the three Marauders meant that you were almost always attached to one of them whether it be holding hands, in their laps in front of the fire or on your knees with their cock in your mouth. However this morning, the three of them had been rushing around to attend lessons that they’d forgotten about their poor needy girlfriend so really…could Sirius blame you for wanting to be with them?

Maybe you were being a little full-on with your neediness, instead of whispering and asking nicely to see Sirius, grabbing him by his collar and pushing him into a spare room to suck him off. Sirius only chuckled in a condescending tone, tugging on your hair to snap your attention up to him, your bottom lip sticking out with pretend sadness as he stopped your attempts to undo his belts.

“Stop being such a brat and listen to me, otherwise you aren’t going to get what you want, Darling”.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with wide eyes, “You haven’t been giving me what I want, that’s the issue!”

Sirius’ eyes darkened and you knew that sassing back to him maybe wasn’t the best idea so you quickly shut your mouth, a move that seemed to please him as the corner of his lip tipped up into a smirk, his shoulder-length hair falling to shadow half of his face. “I was tempted to let you carry on if you didn’t continue with that smart mouth of yours and anyway, we don’t have time, we’ll probably be late to class now because of this interruption so well done Sweetheart. Now, you’re on your last chance, any more bratty behaviour and you’ll be punished”.

You shrunk away from him, losing your confidence and beginning to stare at the floor, realising your mistake and not wishing to be punished, but you just wanted to feel them. Sirius let go of your hair and tapped a finger under your chin, tilting your face back up so you were looking at him once more, his sleek eyebrow raised in question, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry Sirius”.

Sirius nodded, holding a hand out which you took and he helped you to stand, brushing the dust from your knees and moved back towards the door but he held you back for one second with a gentle hand on your arm. You looked up at him with a confused expression but soon sighed as he leaned down to peck your lips, lingering for a second before pulling back. “Sorry it’s been such a rush this morning, I promise later we’ll look after you. Just listen to us, and we can all get what we want, ok?”

You agreed with a grin, capturing his lips one more time before he held the door open for you.

Your self-restraint lasted for a mind-blowing 25 minutes. This one really wasn’t your fault though as Remus had decided it was a good idea to rest his strong hand against your thigh, under your skirt, his hot palm directly against your skin. The tallest marauder knew exactly what the touch would do and didn’t remove it even as you turned into a dribbling mess, hugging his arm closer to your body and refusing to do the work because you were so distracted.

“My love, we have an exam at the end of the week, you need to take notes”, Remus whispered against the top of your head, but you ignored him, holding him closer, trying to push his hand higher up your thigh. However, he instead squeezed the muscle, “I know you’re needy right now but need to do your work”, Remus continued to encourage.

“Is someone being a brat again?” Sirius asked from behind as he leaned over his desk towards you and Remus.

Remus kept his voice low as he asked, “Again? She’s been a brat already today?”

“Yeah, we had a little run-in, in the spare classroom on the way here, didn’t we Sweetheart?” Sirius whispered in response. You tried not to whine as your grip relaxed, realising that you’d been caught and there was one thing that Remus and Sirius did not forget was that they always kept to their word.

“Mr Black, is there a problem over there?”, Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted the quiet conversation.

“No Professor”, Sirius replied cooly, sitting back in his chair.

Remus continued writing for a couple of seconds before saying under his breath, “We’ll talk about this later”.

Only when later came, there was no talking involved. After watching James practice quidditch for an hour or so, Sirius suggested to you and Remus about going to the shrieking shack for some alone time whilst James finished, which you were more than happy to agree to, practically dragging both men by their hands in the direction of the decrepit building.

However, once there, you were stripped of your clothes and tied to the head of the bed with your wrists attached to the posts with both men’s ties and your legs were spread, exposing your soaked pussy.

“Do you remember our earlier conversation?”, Sirius asked, stroking a teasing hand up your inner thigh, already seeing the evidence of arousal with how wet you were.

“Ye-Yes”, you admitted, breathing quickly with increasing anxiety.

“So you know why we are doing this?”, he continued, making sure you had clarification as to why you were being tied up. They always made sure to do this, even when you were misbehaving the most to get to this point, you had to understand why the punishment was taking place and that your safewords were always there to use if needed. It all added to the overall experience and even though there was nothing you wanted more than to be touched and caressed by any of your boyfriends, you trusted them above anyone else and would continue to go through the punishment for this reason.

So after you’d explained why this was happening and reiterated at this could stop at any moment if you wished.

Sirius seemed happy with your answers and glanced over his shoulder at Remus who was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his legs spread wide and a noticeable bulge in his trousers. The man smiled, his scars stretching with the movement as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of your favourite toys: your rose gold bullet vibrator, a present from James for Valentine's Day. Waving his wand, the vibrator magically floated through the air, only stopping mid-air when the cool metal touched your clit.

Sirius then placed your panties into your mouth to stop you from begging and climbed off of the bed and you had to watch as he approached Remus, his long hair framing his face as he leant down to make out of the other man. From this angle, you could only see the back of Sirius as he leaned over, but you could hear it all, the noises of their lips, the gasps and moans.

Your wrists stung slightly as you tested the hold, tugging on the ties that held you, hoping that maybe one of them would be loosened enough that you could pull free but they only tightened and you stopped your wasted efforts. Collapsing back against the headboard, you tried to calm yourself down but your body felt like it was on fire, sweat already coating it, eyes burning as you didn’t want to blink and miss a single moment of the teasing that was happening.

Even though there was nothing more you wanted at that moment than to be untied and join in with Sirius and Remus, the sight of them touching, and pleasuring one another was something you would store at the back of your mind for days you wanted to make yourself feel better. It was so erotic and hot that your pussy was twitching and clenching around nothing, juices dripping down your perineum, with the destination to soak the sheets.

Sirius dropped to his knees, settling in comfortably before swiftly undoing Remus’ belt, button and zipper and opening the material up, giving him room to reach into the hole of his checkered underwear and expose his throbbing member. As Sirius was on his knees, you were able to see Remus’ impressive cock, standing thick and proud, veins pulsing and ready to be touched.

You must have audibly made a noise as Remus suddenly looked up at you, a look of surprise on his face as he had momentarily forgotten that you were even in the room but then he rolled his wand in between his fingers and smirked. Sirius raised further on his knees, one hand resting against Remus’ thigh and the other holding the base of his cock and finally gave one solid lick up the entire length.

The moment Sirius’ wet tongue touched Remus’ cock, the wand in his hand flicked slightly, magically turning on the vibrator that still floated against your bundle of nerves. You groaned at the sensation, the buzz light and the pressure weren’t enough to drive you crazy just yet but you knew that he was just warming you up, even though you were already thoroughly aroused.

Remus kept his wand pointed towards you, controlling the vibrator, but his other hand was holding back Sirius’ hair, watching as he was hungrily sucking off. It was one thing Sirius prided himself in was the lack of gag reflex he had, being able to take the entire length of Remus, something you could never do and envied the Gryffindor for.

You tried to beg around your panties but all that could be heard was muffled cries, the material making your mouth incredibly dry so you tried to look sadly at Remus, your eyes sad and lower lip trembling as your hips rolled to try and push harder against the floating metal object, wishing to feel more.

Sirius’s head bobbed up and down quickly, his cheeks sucking and causing slurping noises that felt so good to Remus, his shaft throbbing with the movements. “Feel so good when you do that Padfoot, just like that”, Remus encouraged, letting his eyes drop close. “Do you think we should let our little pup join us?” Remus asked, still lost in the pleasure.

Sirius pulled off with an audible pop, a grin spreading across his face - not that you could see from your position - and responded with a simple: “Nope”, before swallowing Remus’ cock again.

Remus bite his lip at the sensation and opened his eyes as he flicked his wand again, the vibrations increasing tenfold, completely overwhelming your entire pussy, feeling them deep in your abdomen causing you to scream out in euphoria. Your body jolted at the pleasure, hips bucking wildly, pussy clenching, wishing it was full with fingers or a cock. Not that you truly were fussy at that moment as your orgasm built swiftly, feeling like a cord tightening in your abdomen, the walls of your cunt squeezing together, you were so close, still watching Sirius pleasure Remus, who had now opened his eyes and was watching you closely, assessing when you were just…about…to … cum.

And then he magiced the vibrator away from your body and your peaked fluttered away to nothingness, and now it truly dawned on you what sort of punishment they were giving you: edging. This was one of your least favourite punishments, especially added to the fact that you had to watch your boyfriends find their own pleasures.

Your thighs were trembling as you cried out, head dropping against your shoulder as you tried to regain some composure but then the vibrator was back on the low setting and pressing against your clit.

Your mewling begs were cut off however as James walked in, still wearing his quidditch uniform and a small sly smile on his face as he took in the sight of you tied to the bed, being pleasured by the sex toy and Remus being blown by Sirius on a chair.

“I could hear her from outside”, he admitted towards Remus before heading towards the bed, sitting at the edge near you. “Poor baby, you look so desperate, do you want some help?”, he cooed, stroking a hand up your inner thighs.

You nodded your head desperately, moaning wishing you could say yes yes yes. James thankfully was usually the one to give in to your begging, always undoing your restraints first, or helping you find your satisfaction so seeing him here now, you had no doubts that he would be doing the same for you now, after all, he hadn’t really seen you being a brat today.

All hope was lost however as he leaned forward, kissed your cheek and walked over to his boyfriends, dropping to his knees beside Sirius who had sifted to the side, giving him some room, and he began to pleasure Remus as well.

You groaned in frustration, realising you were very much stuck there and had to watch a sight you wanted to desperate be a part of.

Sirius and James licked up the length of Remus’ cock, both men then making out around the tip and you don’t know who groaned louder, you or Remus. Then whilst one man swallowed the thick length, the other would be sucking on the balls, working together to bring Remus to his own orgasm.

All the whilst, Remus kept up his torturous game of turning up the vibration level and just as you were about to cum, taking all the pleasure away.

3 times he had done this now, your juices were leaking onto the sheets below, your entire body trembling as you begged in your mind to please let you cum but of course, they didn’t let you. Your cunt was beginning to become puffy with stimulation and your throbbing clit was aching from the toy and you’d physically jolt and pull away as it always came back to hover against you. You were exhausted, your body drained of energy, your head feeling fuzzy and floaty as your needs drifted your thoughts into a space-like consciousness.

But you still continued to watch your boyfriends, hoping that the small act would mean your punishment would be over quicker because you were continuing to be good but it only made it harder to stay calm. You felt like you were just in the constant heightened state of being wanting to cum, hardly having much time to rest.

Remus suddenly shifted, his hips thrusting up harshly into the back of James’ mouth, his hand releasing its hold on Sirius’ hair to instead hold onto the back of James, keeping his head there, “Fuck Prongs, that’s it, stay right there”, he grunted, his eyes clenching closed as he came. James held still, taking the load to the back of his mouth and only pulling back when Remus sighed, his hand relaxing and letting go of the back of his head. “Did you swallow?” Remus asked with half-lidded eyes.

You couldn’t see but you knew that James had opened his mouth and revealed that he hadn’t swallowed because the next moment he was leaning over and heavily kissing Sirius, his cum coated tongue swiping against the other mans so they both had to swallow.

Remus groaned at the sight, tucking his half-soft, wet cock back into his trousers, trying to also catch his breath before glancing over the men towards you and you couldn’t hold back the sob anymore, not wishing to ruin the moment but seeing his attention had turned to you, it was almost too much.

You’d been edged against during his orgasmic scene, you were starting to become sore with belly aches with how much you’d been clenching your cunt and wanting to feel that high more than anything in the world.

Standing from his chair and rolling his shoulders, Remus stepped between his two boyfriends and finally came out to you, shimming behind your body so your back was against his chest. Your head lolled back against his shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck, reaching around your front so that he could pull out your panties from your mouth, the cool air drying your mouth further as you didn’t have the energy to close it.

“You’ve done so well sweetheart, do you want to cum? I’m gonna need you to tell me”, Remus whispered against the skin of your cheek, hands idly stroking circles against your stomach as he spooned around your body.

You were nodding tiredly before even talking, half aware that deep moans were coming from the other end of the bed from James being bent over and fucked by Sirius. “Please can I cum, Remus?” you asked, voice croaky from exhaustion and dryness.

“What do you think Padfoot?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius who was slowing his pace, his hips rolling in and out, teasing James who was touching himself from his bent-over position.

Sirius blew a piece of hair from his face as he looked over at you, feeling somewhat sorry that you’d been edged for so long, “yeah go on then, seeing as she’s been such a good girl”.

You wanted to thank him profusely for his beautiful words but couldn’t muster up the energy to say them, instead completely allowing your body to relax back into Remus. Your boyfriend's long fingers delved over your mound, groaning at how wet and used you were.

“You’ve done so well for us pup, I’m not going to stop ok, you can cum for us”, Remus reassured as he pressed two fingers against your overstimulated clit, rolling it in his fingers, back and forth, the pressure firm and steady. With his other hand, he waved his wand again and all of your restraints untied so you were now fully collapsed against him, eyes closed, mouth open with a string of curses and whimpers escaping.

It didn’t take you long at all, still remaining at that heightened-edged sensation, Remus held you close as you finally came, body spasming as you were so overwhelmed with how to react and control yourself. “That’s it, let go for us, I’ve got you”, Remus continued to encourage and you were thankful for this, letting his voice ground you to the moment.

It felt so good to feel your cunt squeezing in quick bursts, juices coating the tops of your trembling thighs, and your entire body felt like it was burning as your nerves tried to comprehend the stimulation. Finally, as your orgasm began to subside, Remus’ fingers slowed to a stop and you fully collapsed into him, half away that he was moving your body so you were cuddled into his side, legs over his lap and head laying against his chest.

You were just about ready to have a little nap when you heard James gasping as Sirius pounded into him and you forced yourself to stay awake a little bit longer so you could watch both men fuck.

Remus could feel you were still awake as he kissed the top of your head, “pretty aren’t they”, he mumbled against you.

“Mmmm, so so pretty”, you agreed as you watched them both from their standing position, giving Sirius the better position to fuck James and reach around his body to wank his cock off as well, after a few more grunts, James was cumming hard, his seed spurting out in thick gloops across the bed.

Sirius pushed the quidditch player over the bed once more, the man now lying in his own cum and began mercilessly fucking his arse, chasing his own high, James moaned through the entire interaction before Sirius’ hips stilled with a hard yell and slap to James’ ass cheek.

Finally, after watching all three men reach their highs during that afternoon, you felt settled enough to fall asleep in Remus’ arms, knowing that when you woke up, you might be feeling a little bit subspacey but that was a problem for another time.

[holdmymallowsweet]

What are you doing here? 01

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC Word count: 4328, properly tagged on AO3

Chapter summary: Falling right between the awkwardness of their first encounter outside the Undercroft and their jaunt into the Scriptorium, Ominis and the new fifth year have an innocuous little meet up in the library. 

a/n: I’ve always wondered why Mc would offer to talk to Ominis about the Scriptorium, when their last interaction outside the Undercroft was so hostile, and I figured there could have been another conversation in between- not anything deep or meaningful, just a little chat that made it clear that they don’t hate each other. So that’s what this is, and although it’s now the first chapter/prologue of a slow-burn longfic, it was originally a oneshot and can still be read as such, if you prefer. Enjoy! And many, many thanks to @myokk for encouraging me to finally post this, you're the best ❤️

Masterlist || Chapter 02

Chapter 01 - Invitation

Sending her that letter might have been a mistake.

Ominis Gaunt had been sitting in the library for hours now, waiting for someone who, he now realised, in all likelihood would not come.

“I heard you running around aimlessly in the defence against the dark arts tower again today. If you enjoy my company that much, perhaps you would like to join me in the library this evening. I’ll wait.”

It was supposed to be a playful way of telling her he was not angry anymore, a sort of peace offering after he had yelled at her outside the Undercroft. 

It was only after he’d sent the letter that he realised it probably sounded presumptuous and rude beyond belief. Words on parchment couldn’t tell the reader what tone of voice they’d like to be read in, at least not until someone invented a spell for that, but it was too late to take it back.

He sighed. Honestly, he could not remember what possessed him to write the blasted thing in the first place. It had been a whim, a result of his frustration and loneliness when he heard he’d be spending another evening alone because Sebastian had gotten himself detention again. He was not usually that bold, and she was practically a stranger.

They did happen to share a best friend in Sebastian though, so one could hardly blame him for trying to get to know her. In fact, it might be long overdue.

At least that was the excuse he’d use if anyone asked. Or the one he told himself, to be honest.

The truth was, she intrigued him. It took him some time to realise it, but now that he did, he couldn’t let go of the feeling. If Sebastian was to be believed, she was curious about him too, or at least she had been, for a fleeting moment- before his temper got the better of him and he took his frustrations about Sebastian’s betrayal out on her.

Ominis sighed again and ran his hand through his hair.

Someone from across the table shushed him, and his face twitched in slight annoyance.

Oh, he really hoped they’d be gone by the time she showed up, whoever they were.

If she showed up.

By now, it seemed more likely that he’d stay here sulking by his lonesome until it was time to walk back to the dungeons, perhaps facing a bemused Sebastian who’d already know where he’d been. The two of them seemed incapable of keeping secrets from one another, after all.

That would ultimately be the proper punishment for his unreasonable jealousy, her rejection delivered by his best friend.

He’d come to the library with every intention of writing the assigned essay for Herbology, determined not to care too much about whether she’d take him up on his invitation, but it was a lost cause. His self-spelling quill wouldn’t work properly unless he concentrated on the precise words he wanted to put on the parchment, but with his head filled with thoughts of the new fifth year and the undefined nature of whatever relationship they did or didn’t have, all he had managed to write so far was an embarrassing mess.

Ominis considered writing with his own hand, but thought better of it. He could, of course. He’d make notes or short letters without his enchanted quill regularly, but writing an entire essay without being able to tell when the lines would inadvertently run into one another was a daunting task. He’d have to use twice as much parchment as anyone else, and he already felt sorry for Professor Garlick, if she’d have to decipher the mess.

Finally, he decided to just give it up. The door opened, and once again, he strained his ears. He was able to recognize her footsteps by now. Not her, just some unfortunate chap getting chewed out by Madam Scribner for returning his books late.

He was starting to feel ridiculous.

It felt like hours since he’d hurried through the castle, almost slipping on the wet fallen leaves covering the stairs when he left the owlery. Heart thumping with excitement, he’d even made sure to sit at a table where he would, hopefully, be seen by her as soon as she walked in, but far enough away from the librarian to have a conversation without being reprimanded for disturbing the peace and quiet.

Actually, if he hadn’t been so concerned that she might not see him and leave, or that he might miss her coming in, he would have preferred a table in the farthest corner on the second floor, away from prying eyes. She was still the talk of the school and gathered attention wherever she went, and “What is she doing with Gaunt?” was not something he wanted to hear whispered in the corridors.

Thankfully, it was one of the last warm and sunny days before the autumn chill fully set in, so most students were happy to make the most of it and took their work outside. Even Cressida Blume still seemed determined to let Madam Scribner forget her face (not that she would), and he hadn’t heard any other classmate of theirs either. 

Sebastian’s detention was pointless busy work as usual- scrubbing or cleaning or something of the sort. Truthfully, Ominis had ceased to pay attention when his friend complained about his punishments long ago. Whatever it was, it kept him far away from the library- no one was foolish enough to try and “punish” Sebastian by letting him get his hands on even more books.

Not that it mattered whether they knew the curious onlookers or not. She was still the object of everyone’s interest and admiration, and with the way things were going, that wasn’t likely to change anytime soon. Not while she was so eager and endearing, always willing to drop everything the second someone needed something from her.

Right, it wasn’t like her to deny a request from a fellow student. She’d usually jump at the chance to do someone a favour, even if it came from someone she’d never seen before, even if it was much more bothersome than studying in the library for an hour or two.

So why wasn’t she here?

She wouldn’t have shown anyone his letter, would she? Unless she didn’t have to, if the owl reached her at an inopportune time, Merlin knows who else might have read it over her shoulder.

Ominis could imagine it, them sitting in a circle in the Hufflepuff girl’s dormitory, passing his letter around, seemingly teasing her about it in a playful attempt to get her to be wary of him. Until her curiosity would get the better of her and she’d ask them why precisely they found him so disagreeable. He shuddered. 

According to Sebastian, she already knew. She knew, and didn’t care. 

According to Sebastian, she also felt apologetic and regretful about their last encounter, much like him.

And if that was the truth- he couldn’t be entirely sure it was, but if it was, why wasn’t she here? Ominis tapped his quill against the parchment, piercing tiny holes into it and probably soaking the table underneath with ink. 

He was slowly but surely getting annoyed now. If she was as regretful about invading the Undercroft as Sebastian had made it seem, she should have pounced at the chance to meet up with him and make things right.

Of course, that had been weeks ago, so she might have gotten over it by now. Still, he wasn’t good enough for her to at least show up and quietly do her homework on the opposite side of the table? It wasn’t as if she didn’t have any work to do. She always did, with all the extra assignments the Professors threw at her to help her catch up, and even if by some miracle she didn’t, it wouldn’t hurt her to simply study, for once.

She could have come. Ominis frowned. Unless she actually couldn’t.

Notorious troublemaker and rule breaker that she was, he’d often half jokingly wondered when her recklessness would come to bite her in the arse, only it wasn’t unthinkable, was it?

Her duelling skills didn’t make her invincible, it was entirely possible that she was lying dead, or dying, somewhere on the cold forest floor. Small animals and insects already crawling under her robes and the scarf she always insisted on wearing, slowly devouring her corpse while a confused owl pecked at her, trying to get her cold hands to take his stupid, embarrassing letter. 

Ominis took a deep, steadying breath in an attempt to squash the slowly rising dread.

Stop it. She was  fine, she had other things to do, or she thought she was in trouble with him again and didn’t feel like being chastised and insulted all evening. It was annoying that she didn’t even want to find out what he wanted from her- nothing, really, except perhaps a chance to clear the air- but he had no right to complain, he was the one who messed things up.

And his annoyance was merely a way to mask his fear of rejection.

He slumped down, his forehead hitting the table with a soft thud. Ears filled with the sounds of soft footsteps, turned pages and scratching quills, ink from his quill staining his fingertips but nothing to really occupy his mind in her stead.

Why couldn’t he have spent a few more minutes to rewrite that letter, although one could barely call it a letter- the note, why couldn’t he have tried to sound a bit more friendly and inviting? Then again, even a second longer might have caused him to rethink the whole thing, keeping him from sending it at all.

All things considered, that would have been a blessing in disguise, saving him from making an absolute fool of himself.

He’d heard it countless times from the Sallow twins, trying to console him in his moments of self-doubt; that he was a good person, a good friend, that he was fun to be with, but it’s not like she’d ever seen that side of him.

The two of them would make an odd, unlikely combination, but he wanted to get to know her, be near her. His invitation had been a final act of desperation- or perhaps insanity- a desire to hold on to the strange but comforting, tender feeling that rose in his chest whenever he heard her voice in class or her footsteps in the hallways nowadays.

At the very least, he wanted to make sure there was no lingering resentment between them.

The library door opened again, and the next sound to reach his ears suddenly made his head feel blissfully empty. 

It was her voice, and he instantly straightened his back and cocked his head to the side to listen better as she greeted the librarian.

She made her way through the library, with eager steps, drawing closer until he could smell her signature scent, then until he could hear her breathing. Ominis noticed she was slightly out of breath.

Had she been in a hurry?

To meet him?

In spite of the confusion, the sick feeling inside him dissolved almost instantly, all thoughts of why she made him wait only to show up hours later forgotten. She cared. She cared at least enough to give him a bit of her time.

“Hello, Ominis,” she said.

He knew she wasn’t one for formalities, calling all of her classmates by their first name without invitation. 

What surprised him more was the lack of any bitterness or trepidation he’d expected to hear in her voice, instead, she sounded cheerful, excited, almost.

“There you are. Care to sit down?” he replied, trying his best to sound unbothered while ignoring the sudden flutter of nervousness in his stomach. The scraping of the chair from across the table told him she did.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting, I’m really sorry.”

Are you?

She sounded genuinely apologetic. Suddenly he realised, with another bout of nerves, that this would be the first time they actually had a proper conversation. Without any shouting. She was here for no other reason than to spend time with him, and more importantly, because he asked her to.

Ominis took perhaps a bit too long to answer, but she didn’t seem to notice. It sounded like she was busy taking her textbooks out.

“It’s all right. It’s not like I was just wasting time waiting for you, I was quite busy.” It was almost not a ridiculous lie, considering he’d been busy indeed, desperately craving her company, making a mess of his homework, hoping she’d care enough to show up. He hoped she wouldn’t think too hard about the messy, half empty parchments littering the table. 

It wouldn’t be fair to be upset about it. After all, he invited her on short notice and they never agreed on a time to meet.

“I left as soon as I got your owl, but it took me a while to get here,” she sighed, casually pushing aside his mess on the table to make space for her own.

Why? Where have you been?

Obviously not on school grounds.

“Why would that be?” he said, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“I was near Aranshire.”

“Aranshire? What were you up to over there?” He raised his eyebrow. He knew it was one of the Hamlets, the one close to Hogsmeade station, if he wasn’t mistaken, but he couldn’t judge exactly how far away from the castle it was.

Oh, he had a bad feeling about this, and she, ever so perceptive, noticed.

“Nothing to be concerned about.” she said airily.

She doesn’t trust me.

Ominis knew he shouldn’t hold it against her. They barely knew each other, after all, and yet he couldn’t help the tiny stab of annoyance as she was lying to him yet again. If it had been Sebastian, she would have told him. 

Then again, Sebastian had never threatened to get her in trouble with the Headmaster.

“Anyway, on my way back something came up and I looked a bit dishevelled by the end of it, and it took me a while to sort that out. That’s why I’m late. I really am sorry.”

“You looked… dishevelled?”

She hummed in agreement, taking a moment to shuffle around pieces of parchment before answering properly. “Just a bit.”

“You do know I wouldn’t be able to tell,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed, and Ominis was almost disturbed by how much he liked the sound of it.

“Fair enough, I suppose, but others would, and I wouldn‘t want to give anyone a reason to stare, or… talk more about me than they already do.”

Ominis tensed. He’d always been aware and annoyed at how much the entire school seemed to gossip about her, but he’d never considered that she’d know, or how she felt about it. There was an odd sort of undertone in her voice.

He wondered yet again how much she knew, or guessed, about the things others said behind his back, when they thought he was out of earshot, always underestimating his hearing. They were careful when Sebastian was close, but they had no reason to hold back when it was just her.

So was she concerned about what the others might say if they saw them together? For her sake, or for his? He was beginning to feel sick again.

“Why did you look ‘a bit dishevelled’ in the first place?” he asked in an attempt to return to the original subject, and perhaps lighten the mood a bit.

“Well…” she hesitated for a moment. “I had a run in with some spiders.”

Oh no.

“Really, nothing to be concerned about.” She added quickly when he furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something.

If he had to guess, this wasn’t the first time something like that had happened- in fact he knew it wasn’t. Dragons, Trolls, Dark Wizards, now this- and Merlin knew what else in between. She almost seemed to enjoy it, always roaming around, curious to see what else she could take on.

That recklessness made him uneasy. He had spent the last four years with another one like that, and the two of them being best friends felt like pouring oil in a fire.

“Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Nothing a bath and a Wiggenweld potion couldn’t fix,” she reassured him.

So you did get hurt.

Ominis frowned. He couldn’t smell any blood, and didn’t hear any strange whispers when she came in. She also didn’t sound as if she was in any pain, so she most likely wasn’t lying when she said she was fine now. Her having just taken a bath also explained why the scent of her soap was slightly stronger than usual and not mixed with the earthy, piney smell of the forest that always clung to her when she’d been roaming around the highlands.

“Are you all right?” she asked suddenly.

The question caught Ominis by surprise. “Certainly. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You seem a bit tense. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

Even without sight, he could guess she was pausing to look at him expectantly. Merlin, did she think that’s why he asked her to meet him?

“No, I…” There were a lot of things he would have liked to say to her, and yet he couldn’t seem to find the right words.

He had to say something, though, because the silence between them as she waited for Ominis to finish his sentence was starting to feel oppressive.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, suddenly feeling self-conscious about how much he was stressing over what, to her, was a casual conversation she had with dozens of others on an average day.

For Merlin’s sake, they were classmates sitting in the library, making smalltalk.

Time to change the subject.

“Really though, what were you doing out there?” He tried his luck again.

“Just the usual.”

Ominis barely managed to suppress a frustrated sigh. “Which would be…?”

She seemed to consider him for a moment. The building frustration from her annoyingly vague answers must have been evident, and Ominis thought for a split second that he’d pushed too far.

“Nothing too exciting. Chatting to some of the locals. Looking for good spots to collect potion ingredients, that sort of thing.”

“Sharp must be very proud of you.”

She laughed that melodic, infuriatingly infectious laugh of hers, and Ominis was both relieved and grateful that the atmosphere lightened considerably again, even as the annoying git who shushed him earlier made a disapproving noise. If she’d heard it, she’d decided to ignore it, and Ominis was more than happy to follow her lead.

“I’m not doing it to please Professor Sharp, I quite enjoy potion making- unlike some of us,” she teased.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t bother denying it, it’s not like I’m imagining the sour look on your face every time I look at you during Potions.”

So she hadn’t been ignoring him, even after everything that had happened. His insides squirmed pleasantly. Perhaps she was still curious about him, after all.

Ominis cleared his throat.

“So, had any success in finding those potion ingredients?” he asked, awkwardly attempting to keep the conversation going.

“Hmm. I’m running out of Horklump juice, but there weren’t any around. I did find some Ashwinder eggs though, at an abandoned poacher camp nearby,” she rambled on absentmindedly, still shuffling around her pieces of parchment. “I’ve always been curious about them, you know. I’d like to see one someday.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it. They’re dangerous criminals, you know.”

She held back a laugh. “I meant an Ashwinder- as in the creature, not the poachers. I’ve seen quite enough of them.” 

“...it was a joke.”

She giggled. “I’ve been thinking about how I always collect their eggs as potion ingredients, but I’ve never actually seen one,” she mused.

Well, they weren’t exactly the sociable sort, even for snakes.

Ominis had met an Ashwinder once, in the gardens behind his family home, after it had slithered out of an abandoned fire his older brother had been playing around with before he’d wandered off, bored. Excited to have someone to talk to, someone who he’d hoped wouldn’t either dismiss him or use the opportunity for some casual cruelty, Ominis had bent down to greet the little snake. It had told him to sod off and slithered away to lay its eggs. Back then, he’d been sulking the whole day over it.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Shame, he thought ruefully. There he actually had a somewhat funny story about the very thing she was interested in, and he couldn’t even tell her. Not without revealing secrets about himself that he’d rather keep tightly guarded.

“Have you ever heard one?” She inquired.

Ominis stiffened instantly. So much for his tightly guarded secrets. He really would have to wring Sebastian’s neck one of these days. “What do you mean by that?”

“I only meant, well…,” she answered sheepishly, “… you obviously wouldn’t have seen one, and I know you have good hearing. Sorry, did I say something wrong?” She was obviously taken aback.

“No, of course not. I’m sorry.” He relaxed. So Sebastian hadn’t told her that, at least. He cleared his throat. “You would have to be lucky to see one. They are born from unattended magical fires and only live for about an hour, barely long enough to lay their eggs.”

“Ah.” She was fumbling with her quill, running her fingers along the feathered edges, from the sound of it, seemingly deep in thought, and thankfully not angry at him for snapping at her. “If they’re born from fires, what are they laying eggs for?”

“I think that’s a question better asked of Professor Howin,” Ominis replied. “You’re the one taking Beasts class, not me.”

“So… could I just make a fire somewhere, ‘unattend’ it and wait for one to come out?”

He gave her an amused snort, not sure if she was being serious. “Are you taking a page out of Peeve’s book, trying to burn down the castle?” Brows furrowed, he still flashed her a warm smile as she had a fit of giggles, and a pleasant warmth spread through his body.

“Perhaps I should take a page out of Peeve’s book, that’d make us even,” she said.

Ominis was waiting for her to explain that rather puzzling statement, but she didn’t.

“Meaning…?”

“Never mind.”

He brushed it off. This was all he’d wanted, sitting together, having a pleasant conversation, laughing about each other’s jokes. And yet it didn’t feel quite right, there was still a wall between them, made up of secrecy and lies.

She finally seemed to have started on her work, the scratching of her quill adding to the symphony of the rustling paper and soft hums and whispers surrounding them.

Apologise for yelling at her about the Undercroft.

Ominis wanted to, he really did, and if he was ever going to, now was the time- but he was still embarrassed just thinking about it and he didn’t want to ruin their first decent conversation by reminding her of how horrible he’d been. It might have been easier to talk about if she was the one to bring it up, and he quietly wondered why she didn’t.

Through the ambient sounds, he heard Madam Scribner get up from behind her desk, about to make a final pass through her sacred halls. Reminding students not to leave a mess, picking unwilling volunteers to tidy the mess of the ones who didn’t listen amongst the stragglers who couldn’t flee fast enough, he was almost tempted to make sure it’d be the two of them.

It wouldn’t be fair, though.

Based on her account of how she’d spent her evening so far and his own idle contemplations, they’d both need to dedicate the remaining hours of the day to schoolwork, and she’d already dropped her previous plans as soon as she received his owl- a courtesy far beyond anything he deserved.

They were out of time.

“We should probably leave.”

There she was, slipping through his fingers again. If only she’d arrived half an hour earlier, maybe he could have gathered his nerve and apologised, at least.

“Wait, weren’t we going to do our homework? I haven’t even started, to be honest.”

Ominis smirked. “The library is about to close, you know. I’ve been here for hours before you came in.” Not that he’d been very productive in that time.

“Oh.” She sounded defeated- and perhaps even a bit disappointed?

That might have been wishful thinking on his part.

“I guess I’ll head back to the common room then. If I’m lucky, Adelaide’s still up and I can copy from her.”

He let out a small chuckle. “Cheating on our assignments, are we?”

“Oh, well. I can’t always be a saint,” she said cheekily.

For a second, Ominis had the urge to walk her back to her common room, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her. It felt like it would be too much, walking around the castle with her, giving others the opportunity to make assumptions about a relationship that he himself didn’t yet fully understand. 

“Well, don’t let me keep you,” he said instead. He gathered his things, ignoring the growing regret and guilt.

“See you, Ominis. And… if you enjoyed my company enough, perhaps we could do this again?”

He felt his cheeks grow hot. “Sure.”

She laughed. “Cheers.”

And just like that, she was gone.

Her scent and her laughter still lingered and he was left wondering what, if anything, this little get together had accomplished.

Ominis could not have known this would be their last proper conversation before the three of them entered the Scriptorium.

more a/n: Before the Scriptorium though, the next chapter will be a little trip down memory lane, featuring the earful Sebastian got for showing her the Undercroft. It’s finally here! I started working on this a while ago, so if you’ve read this far, thank you! Like I kind of hinted at in the beginning, the concept of this fic is basically “what could they have been up to ‘off-screen’, if canon events stay exactly the same” (up to and including the fact that no one ever mentions mc’s name, we’ll see if I live to regret this decision), and I don’t know if that’s interesting to anyone but myself, but I’d be happy if anyone wants to be along for the ride.  Writing from Ominis’ pov is a challenge and I try my best to keep in mind that he’s blind when describing things (so don’t expect visual descriptions of anything, ever), but hopefully without constantly drawing attention to it, I hope I managed to do that respectfully and realistically. That said, if anything feels off to you or you have questions, feel free to let me know. And finally, English is not my first language. I proofread and edit everything I write to hell and back but if I still misspelt anything or obviously misused a word, let me know so I can fix it (just be nice about it). There’s a lot more I wanted to put in the authors’ notes but I think it’s already rambly enough, so I’ll leave it at that. Until next time? (I’ve written a few chapters ahead and I’ll try to upload regularly, but realistically, I probably won’t manage it more frequently than once every 1.5 to 2 weeks)

[wheneclipsefalls]

Pairing: Neteyam (23) x Fem Metkayina Reader x Lo’ak (22)

Masterlist I Ao3

This is a contiuation of the Lesson Learned series but can be read as a stand alone

part 1 I part 2

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warnings: intense doms, harsh, p in v, voyeurism, threesome, possessive behavior, strict rules, spanking, etc. 

A/N: Hey Anon, sorry this took so incredibly long but here it is finally! 

As always reblogs, comments and any feedback is beyond appreciated!

“Akeo!” You jump to your feet, bounding down the expanse of wet sand and straight into the rushing waves. The canoe has barely met the shoreline before you are rushing toward the Metkayina male, arms open wide in anticipation of his embrace. Akeo wears a face splitting grin at the sight of your exuberant greeting. 

He has been gone for three months. Out on a hunting trip with a small group of Metkayina males out at the other islands surrounding your home village. It’s a long time to go without seeing your best friend. You’re used to sharing the stories and struggles of each other’s day till the weight of your responsibilities drift away in the wind. You have known him since you were children, building sand maruis near the shoreline. 

Your relationship has been nothing but platonic, despite his handsome features and clear show of his ability to provide for a potential mate. You two have never been able to see one another as more than a found sibling. You spend more time teasing and making fun of the other than ever seeing each other as potential mates. The thought alone makes a disturbed shiver run down your spine. 

His defined arms graciously wrap around your middle, spinning the two of you around in a circle as your feet dangle from the substrate. It feels natural to be in the arms of your friend again, giggles of glee erupting from your chest. 

“Hey pearl.” He grins, finally setting you down. A familiar fondness settles in your heart at the familiar nickname, one that he has always called you since you were little and you had been obsessed with breaking open clams to find those pretty little balls of white. 

“For such a mighty warrior, you sure take a long time to just rangle together a few fish.” The teasing tone is light and ellicites a feigned frown to overtake his features. An expression of mock hurt compliments the hand he clasps to his chest in a fake act of wounded offense. 

“A few fish?! Yeah don’t worry it’s just the majority of supplies the entire clan will need for the winter. But yeah, silly me taking so long to keep your skxawng ass from starving.” He pokes at your sides as the two of you make your way back towards the damp sand. 

Your grin falters when you catch a glimpse of the familiar swinging braids at the corner of your vision. Neteyam stands at one of the canoes, helping the hunting party to wind up the large fishing net. The oldest Sully has always been generous in his efforts to aid returning hunting parties, but this time you wonder if there is an ulterior motive to explain his presence. 

His golden piercing gaze doesn’t look down at his handy work once, instead electing to seer your skin with a possessive fire. 

He’s still mad. Still fuming with the after effects of the argument that occurred between the two of you that morning. You had strayed outside of the reef longer than expected, effectively making you late to the morning walk the two of you had planned. Waiting was never an issue for Neteyam, he tries his best to remain patient on his best days, but going outside of the reef has a tendency to make him nervous. He’s used to being protective, looking out for those around them and monitoring situations to make sure they’re safe. Your relationship only intensifies these feelings, resulting in specific rules that are meant to keep you out of harm’s way. 

Strict rules that oftentimes make you want to pull your hair and stick your tongue out childishly at the handsome male. On your best days you reign in these impulses and work to soothe his concern with tender touches and submissive acts of obedience. 

This morning was not your best day. After a drawn out lecture he threatened to put you over his knee and tan your hide and that is when you lost it. The overprotective attitude has driven you to the limit. You fought and hissed back at him, using choice words that you would never dream of using on a normal day, but they slipped out anyway. 

It’s a mystery how you made it out of there without a red ass and tear streaks down your cheeks, but the arrival of the hunting party is partly to praise for your sneaky escape. 

You’re used to fighting with Lo’ak. His arrogance and possessive attitude commonly gets the two of you into spitting arguments that traditionally end with him fucking every ounce of anger out of you till you are acting like his sweet little slut again. Those feuds leave you sore but otherwise are nothing to stress over. 

Fighting with Neteyam is different. He is the patient brother. The brother that pulls Lo’ak back from completely losing his top. When you manage to get under his skin and draw out an infuriated attitude, you’re in for a world of punishment. Lo’ak is always quick to follow Neteyam blindly into a domineering and angry attitude, trusting that if you have managed to break his brother’s controlled resolve you deserve the punishment that is coming your way. 

Despite the fierce anger that comes off him in cadence with the waves of the sea, you do your best to ignore the male and focus on your friend. 

It’s asking for a world of hurt, but your own anger is enough to cover your logical impulses in a haze of mist. 

You deserve this time. You have every right to be with your best friend and every right to go out without the permission of your possessive mates. 

Akeo has been back for several days. The two of you have been making the most of your time together by filling each other’s days with divings trips and fun meals shared with endless laughter and stories. You are accustomed to spending ample amounts of time with your friend, but that was before you had two mates that watched your every move. 

In all honesty you consider it a miracle from Eywa that neither brother has sought you out for an ass whipping yet. It’s strange behavior. Out of character for the two. Enough to reasonably raise suspicion but you are too content to dwell on the matter. 

Perhaps Neteyam has come around to realizing his mistake. 

Foolishly you let yourself believe that for once he will reel back on the protective behavior and apologize to you. Maybe even convince Lo’ak to let you off the hook this once. 

Akeo is oblivious to this hidden predicament as he spears another small fish and hoists it over the fire carefully. Or at least you think he is. 

“You cried for two days after that tattoo. Wailing like an injured Tulkun about the leftover sting.” You sneer at him, mischief dancing across your features. Akeo is quick to defend himself, taking the teasing as a bite at his masculinity. 

“Your love for exaggeration knows no bounds. It was one single tear during the tattoo.” The orange glow from the flames accentuate the referred to tattoo swirled around his upper bicep.You don’t bother to fight back with a response, just a simple roll of your eyes. 

A grin of victory spreads across his lips, but something catches his eye. He looks past your shoulder and the sincerity in that smile wavers. You're nervous to follow his attention, already afraid that you know the source of his sudden mood shift. Sure enough, Lo’ak watches from a nearby gathering of Na’vi. His golden orbs are seated with unbridled anger. The pure intensity of that focused stare sends a wave of heat along your back that you swear is from him alone and not the flickering flames of the fire. 

Neteyam claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder, noticing the tensing muscles that indicate Lo’ak’s intention to leap up and stomp over there. In normal circumstances, the sight of Neteyam holding his younger brother back is a welcomed sight, one that has saved you from his full wrath more times than you can count. However, now you can see the shifting muscles of the eldest Sully’s clenched jaw and you know this is not your redemption in play. 

It was idiotic to believe your little dispute was over. 

A bratty determination has already been summoned inside of you so instead of backing down and crawling over to beg for forgiveness you return your attention back to Akeo. This is your time with him. Consequences be damned. 

“Pearl…” Akeo hesitates, broad shoulders stiffening visibly. “Is it ok that you and I are hanging out? Seems like your boyfriends aren’t the biggest fans of me.” He lets out a strained chuckle, eyes flicking over to the referred pair. 

Looking back later you eventually recognize your decisions here as a rebellious attempt to retaliate against Neteyam’s protective rules, using your friend to make a point, but in the moment the foolishness of your response evades you. 

“They aren’t the boss of me.” You scoff, flipping your wavy hair over your shoulder in an assertion of confidence. Akeo is unconvinced. He may not know the inner workings of your new relationship with the brothers but he has heard enough talk from the other clan members to know that the two of them are typical dominant Na’vi males. Taking great pride in calling out your submissive nature at every chance possible. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.” You ignore the friendly warning. Frankly the worried look in Akeo’s eyes offends you. Since when did he start doubting your ability to roam freely? That little interaction acts as a refining wall to your resolve. Even as your loincloth dampens from the meer feel of ogling eyes at your back, you decide to stand your ground. 

The rest of the night flies by seamlessly. Akeo shares stories from his trip and asks occasional questions about your mating with the Sully brothers. He recalls watching your interest spike upon the arrival of the Sully family but it is a lot to take in that you are now mated to the two of them. It doesn’t surprise him, but does summon forward his curiosity. Were it not for the current fight that lingers between you and the brothers you would have shared more details and cute snippets with your friend, but the standoff sours your mood towards such topics. 

Akeo understands, prompting him to call it in for the night early. You go to protest, promising strong liquor and a basket of sweet fruit you found the other day to share. The bob of his Adam's apple is enough to tell you that either Neteyam, Lo’ak, or both are still surveillancing the interaction. 

“I’m exhausted, Pearl. Besides, not sure how your new lovers would feel about me getting you drunk.” 

It comes across as a joke but both of you know there is a serious truth there. This infuriates you further. Your gut coils into a wave of untamed emotion, threatening to bubble at the surface. You feel another “bratty episode”, as Lo’ak likes to call it, coming on in full force. It is only the potential humiliation in front of your friend that stops you from stomping your foot like a child. 

Akeo doesn’t walk you home like usual. He calmly explains that your mates will surely want to do that themselves. He waves goodnight and disappears past the cluster of maruis. You on the other hand have no intention of walking home with Neteyam or Lo’ak. When you get in moods like this you often find yourself walking back to your old marui where you can pout and deprive your mates of sleeping with you. 

Of course, this tactic has never worked. Sooner or later one of them comes to drag you home and sort out your little attitude. 

However, you don’t think about this fact as you take a distorted path back to your marui, careful to leave when both of their heads are turned. Fallens seeds and nuts crunch beneath your feet, you walk bordering on the line of stomping. Your arms cross over your chest with visible frustration, indented by the beaded top that covers your perked nipples. 

The night air prickles at your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your head is filled with unreasonable plans of revenge. Ideas of going outside the reef tomorrow without notice just to piss off Neteyam even more. You can already vividly imagine the creased wrinkle that forms between his browline whenever his temper comes to a high. It is your plotting that yields you vulnerable. 

Sharp pain erupts, tingling down your spine and twitching at your ears. It takes a moment to realize that the attack comes from a harsh yank and grip capturing your kuru. You swat at the hands, spinning from side to side until the sensitive braid is released. 

Stumbling backward to regain your footing you finally spot Lo’ak. 

Hands placed firmly along the swirling tattoos on his hips, Lo’ak sneers at you with an unwavering fierceness that tells you all you need to know. 

There is no hesitation in your decision to run. The beads of your loincloth clank back and forth between your inner thighs when you pick up speed into a full sprint. You dodge mangrove trees in the forest left and right. The thundering footsteps behind you do little to conjure a feeling of confidence but it’s too late to turn back now. 

You’ve made a mistake. You should know better than anyone that Lo’ak enjoys the chase. He relishes in the feeling of closing in on you, asserting his dominance and prowess easily. You would be lying if you said there isn’t a part of you that also becomes excited by the rush of being chased. The thickening slick sticking to your loincloth would expose you easily. 

Regardless, this doesn’t stop you from putting all your energy into the desperate flee. Your grumpy demeanor has not been tamed by his presence and you are determined to keep it that way. The whip of the night air against your cheeks causes the blood to rise and dampen your cheeks in a feigned blush. The wide expanse of your tail swishes back and forth with every pounding step. 

Lo’ak doesn’t try to hide his advances. He wants you to know that he is close. Wants you to anticipate the inevitable capture that awaits you. The rumbling growl reverberating through the air is yet another reminder of how much trouble you are in. 

It’s a wonder that you make it this far. Lo’ak’s experience running through the woods far exceeds yours. He grew up dodging underlying roots with bounding little feet and clawing at trees to climb from the moment his chubby hands could handle. Your expertise is in the water, a domain that the brothers have each successfully adapted to beautifully. However, you don’t bother to waste effort on wondering how you have made it this far. 

You round the corner, hopeful to find refuge in the hanging vines of clustered mangroves. Looking back, you can’t spot Lo’ak. For a moment it seems that your last minute plan has worked, but then you bump into a hard surface. 

You collide with Neteyam’s heaving chest, losing your balance slightly and stumbling backwards. Without waiting to process your doom you turn on your heel and lunge in the opposite direction. It’s too late. Neteyam harshly grasps your swatting tail and uses it as a leash to pull you backwards. 

He has you flipped over his right shoulder before you can deliver the first clumsy swing at his chest. His forearms traps your thighs against his upper chest but that does not stop your insistent kicking. Your small balled up fists bounce off the curve of his back. He doesn’t so much as flinch. 

“Let me go!” You wail with a whiny timber. 

Through the splaying curtain of your cascading curls you spot Lo’ak leisurely rounding the tree, expression unsurprised at seeing your compromised position. This has always been the plan. Once again you have fallen into traps and plots that the Sully brothers have made sure you are not privy to. 

“Looks like someone is in one of her moods.” Amusement is barely prevalent in his tone, cloaked by the stern scowl etched in Lo’ak’s lips. 

“Yeah well so am I.” The rumble of Neteyam’s accented voice is toe curling. It forces your heart to skip a beat. You can imagine his sharp canines poking out and glimmering in the light, exposing his grinding teeth clamped together. That is a look that you have rarely come across but one that has undoubtedly been carved into your memory. It carries an undertone of dark warnings. Ones that are meant to saddle you into softer obedience but instead rallies together your last bit of determination through uncaged fear. 

“I want to go home!” Your shriek prompts Lo’ak to step forward and wrestle your swinging hands into the palm of one of his four fingered hands, preventing you from hitting Neteyam’s back any further. 

“Oh don’t worry. You’re going home.” Neteyam grumbles, starting the journey through the mangroves.

“And staying there until this little attitude of yours is sorted out.” Lo’ak finishes for him. 

Despite the warning bells that go off in your head, you proceed to kick and squirm with all your might. The overhanging branches of towering trees create jagged patterns of moonlight across the sandy floor but it doesn’t hinder your recognition of the path. You know exactly how far the three of you are from Neteyam’s marui. When the journey starts coming towards an end your panic kicks up and you start tugging frantically at your caught wrists. 

Naturally these efforts are wasted as you soon find yourself thrown back onto your feet, inside the entrance of the cozy marui. Lo’ak easily catches you by the waist when you attempt to run past them once more. The fabric flaps close behind him, blocking the glow of the moonlight and sealing your fate. 

Pinned against Lo’ak’s chest, your determination to escape cools into a bratty desire to ignore the pair. They may be able to drag you there but that doesn’t mean you have to play along. The silent game is known to have gotten you in more trouble than it is worth but you can’t help but feel drawn to its appeal. It’s the last strand of power you hold over the situation. 

One hand glides sinfully slow down the curve of your side until inching underneath the band of your loincloth. You bite the inside of your bottom lip, preparing yourself to keep the unbothered expression in place. You draw blood when Lo’ak’s hand possessively cups your vulva, tips of his fingers slotted dangerously close to your entrance. 

“I hope you had fun with your little boyfriend because you are going to be paying for it tonight.” The ominous promise that falls from his lips awakens a heat within your core. You live under no delusion that he doesn’t feel the slick gathering there. 

“Now would be a good time to start apologizing, yawne.” Lo’ak quietly suggests, fingers slowly spreading the lips of your cunt apart. The sensation is almost disorienting with the contrast to his stern tone. The tips of your ears twitch nervously but otherwise you maintain the cool composure you’ve built. 

The stubbornness is not appreciated. 

Neteyam’s nails dig into the skin of his hips, a bubbling anger threatening to break loose. The slight movement is enough to have your nerves twisting into a bundle of nervous anticipation. When Lo’ak’s finger swipes over your clit, an embarrassing gasp escapes your downturned lips. You immediately clamp it shut but only your sharp teeth can keep in small whimpers as he starts to flick and rub at the sensitive bud. 

“You might want to listen to Loak, baby girl. Before you make things worse.” It’s the last warning the eldest brother is willing to give. You recognize the inflection of tone and hardened gaze that accompanies these points of no return. If there is a time to dig your way out of the hole it is now.

You stare back at him, teeth sunk into your inner lip to stop the sinful noises from releasing again. Pleasure blossoms in your core as Lo’ak continues to mercilessly tease and glide his fingers along your clit and opening. You know better than to take it as an act of kindness, instead only a game to get your resolve to crumble. 

Heavy silence permeates the small marui. You can feel the flex of Lo’ak’s fingers and tension that spread along his chest. He is wound tight and Neteyam is right there with him, eyes ablaze with lust and fury. 

“I’m sick of this shit.” Lo’ak hoarse voice rumbles before a sharp slap lands directly atop your clit. You hardly have time to jolt backwards in response before his hand is out of your loincloth and he is pressing you over the table. Your neck strains to look back at the shuffling brothers. There is no chance to escape as their bodies cage your bent form and Neteyam pins your wrists to the curve of your lower back with one hand. 

You know what is coming, the position is unfortunately a familiar one, but your teeth still draw blood from your bottom lip when the first spank lands across your ass. Your left cheek burns with heat but you are barely able to process it before the Neteyam lands a matching hit to your right cheek. The brothers take turns, each focusing on a cheek and sit-spot in a random progression that has tears burning at the back of your eyes. 

The azure skin is quick to redden with each cracking spank. 

It becomes more difficult to harbor this aloof composure. Small whines and please tickle in your throat, on the brink of escaping. Your body naturally begins to betray you with squirming hips and flexing fingers that tell the Sully boys are close to breaking. 

Neteyam lands three quicks spanks to your flesh, finally drawing a cry of pain past your parted lips. 

It is all downhill from there. The incessant spanking continues without mercy as your delicate skin becomes hot to the touch. This punishment is a long time coming, you know that. Your reasoning behind the resistance slowly starts to slip away. The aching need becoming ever more present in your core only serves to make it more difficult. 

Lo’ak harshly grips your red cheek, nails digging into the plump flesh.

“Ow! Lo’ak!” You squeal. 

One of Lo’ak’s dark eyebrows raise, the hint of a smirk forming on his lips. You can barely make out his smug expression from your contorted position. 

“Brought this on yourself, yawne.” Neteyam reminds you. His hand comes down on the other cheek. Your whimpers now come freely, intermittent with protests as they continue to tan your hide to an unnatural red color. “Disobedient little brat, determined to piss us off.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t be disobedient if your shitty rules weren’t so obsessive and controlling.”

Ironically the lack of pain is what sets the alarms off in your head. The consuming silence that takes the moment in its wake is what makes you realize what an astronomical mistake you have made. Tension bleeds into every second. The longer they both go without saying a word the more you wish they would simply yell or spank the daylights out of you. 

“Neteyam I’m sorry. I’m sorry-”

A hand comes down hard on your right sit spot. The force is enough to cut off your sentence prematurely. 

“I’m sorry sir! I’m sorry. I’ll be good.” 

You squeal when your wavy hair is caught into a vice-like grip and used to hoist you backwards and flush against Neteyam’s chest. Incidentally you catch Lo’ak’s eyes. He is shaking his head in a way that tells you you’re really in for it now. 

“Those shitty rules as you call them babygirl are there to protect. To take care of you, but they don’t do jack shit when you refuse to follow them.” The dark growl emintates in heated breath against the shell of your ear.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper.

“You had your chance to apologize, brat. You can thank Lo’ak for the three days you had to come to your senses.” You eyes snap to Lo’ak in surprise. It’s not what you were expecting. Normal scenarios had the roles reversed. “Me personally I was ready on day one to bend you over and teach you a lesson in front of your special friend.” 

He accentuates the words in a way that has your stomach twisting. How could you have ever believed the brothers to let you off the hook so easily? To let you galavant with another male after just having a blow out fight you had barely escaped from. 

“Maybe we should. Seems like our little slut needs a more…memorable punishment to make sure the message sticks.” Lo’ak chimes in. He prances forwards until his body is caging yours in from the side. Their towering frames create a looming shadow over you, encapsulating you in an invisible trap. Panic ripples through your veins. 

Unauthorized images of being bent over in front of your best friend to be railed flashes to the forefront of your mind. You can’t deny that part of you becomes aroused by the idea, but you file that concerning revelation away for later analysis. The logical part of your brain that still operates knows that the humiliation would be too much to handle. Akeo would clearly see what a submissive little slut you have become. 

“No! Please sir! I’m sorry Neteyam. It won’t happen again.” You plead.

A sharp slap is distributed abruptly to your thigh. You gape for words, trying to understand what you’ve done wrong but one pointed look gesturing towards the younger Sully brother, keys you in. 

“I’m sorry Lo’ak. I’ll be good now.” Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, and your bottom lip trembles. Your arousal, however, has only continued to increase, now coating your loincloth. 

His harsh exterior melts for a moment but only into a feigned sympathetic pout as he captures your chin between his fingers. 

“Aw would you look at that. Now our little yawne wants to be good, huh? Is that it baby?” He coos, periodically shooting Neteyam a mischievous look. 

Suspicion is quickly building but so is the lure towards submission. You become painfully aware of the emptiness in your pussy and you are quickly becoming okay with any measure that ends with a cock buried deep inside of you. Perhaps from both ends, as you know the brothers so eagerly enjoy. 

“Yes sir.” You respond in a timid voice. Neteyam hums in satisfaction and the vibrations of his chest against your back send a shiver traveling up your spine. Somehow in the midst of your surrender you missed the expert fingers that traveled to the knot around your top. You let out a small gasp when the intricate top falls heavily to the floor and reveals your chest. 

The nipples harden in the cool air of night and you brace yourself to feel the teasing torment of hungry hands pinching at them. To your surprise, it never comes. 

“Going to make it up to us, babygirl? Be our good little slut tonight like you know you want to be?” Neteyam’s hands run a soft trail down your heaving chest and stomach until tickling at your hips, achingly close to the space between your legs. 

You’re eager to agree, anxious to get back on their good side and consequently one step closer to finding your release. The few beads that Lo’ak had woven into a small braid in your hair last week swings as you nod your head frantically. 

Woven fingers through your hair gently pull your head backwards till your neck is craning to look up at him. You can feel the slight tickle of Lo’ak’s hand now undoing your loincloth.

“Well look who has finally decided to behave.” Neteyam mockingly coos before giving you a soft eskimo kiss. The contrast of tender care and awaiting torment bundles your nerves together until there is a knot in your stomach. Now bare and trapped between them, you brace yourself for whatever plans the brothers have in store for you. 

Lo’ak trails the tips of his nose teasingly up the expanse of your exposed neck. He nips at the soft skin, a foreshadow of marks he is sure to be leaving there throughout the night. You wonder if you will manage to face Akeo tomorrow without the branding marks of the Sully brothers staining your skin for all to see. Knowing Lo’ak, it’s unlikely. 

“I know how you can start, mama.” Lo’ak purrs, large five fingered hands grasping your hips tightly. 

“A-anything.” 

It takes all your willpower to hold in a startled moan when the pads of his fingers part your soft folds, the tip just barely resting against your clit. 

“Get this pretty pussy warmed up for us.” His pointer fingers brushes over your clit with a feather-like softness, making your body keen towards him. However, the touch is gone and suddenly both brothers release and step away from you. You’re bewildered and lost for a moment before Neteyam smirks and motions for you to lay out on the mat. 

With shaking legs, you obey, laying on your back. You expect to feel the presence of one of the males slinking over you or see the expanse of star freckled skin slithering against yours but once again your expectations are off the mark. 

“Well don’t be shy, mama. Give us a good little show.” Lo’ak urges. You strain your neck to see his cocky expression and firm stance with his hands on his hips. Both brothers settle to lounge about the marui. Lo’ak casually lays out on the hammock while Neteyam finds a space on the ground near your feet. The attention alone is unnerving and enough to have your cheeks warming up.

Your first instinct is to hide. Curl up into a ball to protect you from those prying eyes that light a fire in your lower stomach. Regardless, all it takes is one raised eyebrow from Lo’ak for you to banish that idea. This is unexplored territory between you three. Before you had met and mated with the brothers there were many lonely nights that you had explored your body and the pleasure it could produce like any other curious Na’vi.

This habit quickly fizzled out when you had two grown men who knew how to pleasure you in ways you could only imagine. Deeming that sufficient, Neteyam and Lo’ak had then decided that you were under no authority to touch your pussy without their permission, a rule you’ve been punished for breaking once before and do not plan on repeating. 

Now with your small hands trails down the slopes of your own chest and stomach, the experience feels like a distant memory. It’s difficult to recall what things you did in the past to bring yourself closer to the edge. Your hands are smaller and feel less experienced than either of theirs and a part of you can’t help but feel disappointed by your own touch. 

However, once the pads of your fingers dips past your thighs that then spread wide, you catch a better view of twin sets of golden eyes. Eyes that bore into every detail of your movements. Every minor shift in your expression and hitched breathing. That unrestrained attention has your tail swerving against the mat and a renewed pool of pleasure gathering in your core. It reminds you that this experience is not for you but for them. 

For your mates that demand every part of your body and soul. Your mates that are currently putting you back in your place. Between them, where you belong. 

Arousal helps to kick up some courage within you as you part your own folds. 

“Wider.” Neteyam commands, pushing your feet further apart with his outstretched leg. The drifting of air along your heated flesh and phantom weight of their stares makes you feel even more vulnerable and exposed. Still, you gently tease one finger between your slick petals, savoring every tingle of sensation it brings. 

At first you try to imagine that you are alone, back in a time where it was normal to touch yourself. Tapping into those memories of teasing with yourself until it only takes a few minutes to reach the climax. However, their presence is impossible to ignore, especially when intermittent commands slink through the air. Clear directions lead you to tickle along your inner thighs, tease one finger around the entrance, pinch your swollen clit till your hips are bucking. 

It’s fascinating to witness that in the midst of this humiliation, your arousal only leaks further like a river between your legs. You enjoy this. There is no denying it, no matter what walls of denial you build in your head. Like a true little slut the brothers love to call you, you live up to this role. There is a part of you that cries in ecstasy at being dominated. A part that turns into a puddle at the idea of pleasing them without restraint or complaint. 

Within the low glow of freckled bodies and bioluminescent plants in the marui, you are able to clearly make out Lo’ak’s silhouette. He lounges on the hammock completely relaxed, that is except for one part. One thick and hard body part that he is languidly stroking while maintaining eye contact with you. Naturally your attention is drawn to the way his thumb swipes over the head, collecting the glowing drop of precum there. 

A pool of saliva gathers along your tongue. It’s almost tangible the way you can imagine the weight of his cock along your tongue. Vivid memories conjure up the ache that is always left after Lo’ak has you choking on his cock before shooting his load down your throat. It’s primal and degrading yet somehow leaves you desperate for more. Especially when it leaves your voice with a raw edge that others question the origins of. 

His grip tightens when he sees the dumbfound gaze that follows it. You don’t need to trail your eyes upwards to know there is a cocky grin plastered along his lips. Cheeky boy always does love the way you oggle and beg and for him. The strokes are long and smooth, running over every visible vein of his member. A moan almost escapes your lips when you see it occasionally twitch. 

Neteyam brings you back to your task with a harsh slap to your inner thigh. 

“Did we tell you to stop, baby girl?” The rhetorical question holds a pointed edge to it, but also a hint of amusement. 

“Sorry sir.” You whimper before frantically rubbing at your clit. The action only brings jagged jolts of occasional pleasure but you hope it is enough to be satisfying entertainment for them. 

“So easily distracted, yawne.” Neteyam mocks, but he doesn’t make you stop staring at the younger brother. Your eyes flicker to his frame from time to time to see if this will be a double showing for you, but his cock is still tucked away in his loincloth, straining against the fabric. 

There is a shift in Lo’ak’s body language. His head lulls against the rim of the hammock and hips push back against his own hand. They are clear indications that the forest male is getting closer to his release. His eyes dance hungrily along your bare frame, drinking in the sight of those slick covered petals and entrance on display for him. Still, he teases himself in effort to stay back from the edge. You pray that he is saving that load for you. Saving it to be shot deep inside of you or down your tight throat. 

Neteyam on the other hand seems to be happy enough to revel in the sight of your trembling body. Occasionally he kicks your feet apart again when your fingers brush over just the right spot causing your thighs to close around them. At some point it takes a hand on each of your bent knees to keep them in place and provide an unobstructed view for him and Lo’ak. 

He ignores the grunt of disapproval when his head blocks the view slightly as he lays a trail of kisses along your inner thigh. Some of his beaded braids brush against your other thigh and those combined sensations are almost too much to handle. Lo’ak rolls his eyes when Neteyam comes to rest his face in front of your dripping core. Shyly your hands back away when his nose nudges at them. The heat radiates off of you in waves. 

He purses his lips and blows a cold stream of air directly on your exposed nub. 

“Neteyam!” You cry out into a shriek but the two are already talking.

“She’s definitely warmed up.” He muses, without turning to face Lo’ak. 

“Any more and she’ll come undone.” Lo’ak agrees, finally finding an angle that allows him to see your aching pussy clearly again. 

“Please! Please please p-please! Need more! Please fuck me! Need it now.” Your babbling is insistent. 

Neteyam hums thoughtfully in response while his warm palms grope and massage up and down your inner thighs. They knead at the tense muscle coiled tightly until it begins to release beneath his touch. Your skin is almost set aflame at the increased friction. His casual nonchalance while gripping the flesh is borderline infuriating. 

“It’s not about you tonight, baby girl. You’ve got a lot of apologizing to do, remember?” The dull edges of his nails then sink into your soft flesh, leaving crescent marks behind. The slight pain coalesces beautifully with your building desire, even as your pussy is left untouched once more. 

“And your pretty little pussy is going to help do a lot of that work, isn’t that right baby?” Neteyam purrs, eyes peering upwards darkly to connect with yours. 

“Yes sir. P-promise-”

He shushes the rest of your babbling away. It’s Lo’ak’s voice though that refocuses your attention.

“Come here, mama.” The hammock sways gently, one of his legs hanging over the side as his hard cock stands at attention. 

Neteyam flips one of your legs up to then quickly swat at your already red bum. It stirs you into motion. Shaking limbs come together to find an upright position again but it is only with the eldest Sully’s help that you manage to stumble over to Lo’ak. 

“Good girl.” The younger brother hums with a smirk. His large hands clasp around your waist and begin to help you straddle him. 

All preamble is lost as you are slowly lowered onto his cock, taking in every inch greedily. Your walls strain around the thick shaft, struggling to fit him until he is filling you to the hilt. It’s amazing what a difference three days without being stretched can do. The velvety walls are like a tight vice around him and it has a primal hiss leaving his lips. 

“Fuck yawne, can barely fit.” Lo’ak grits out between clenched teeth. 

Your lust driven brain takes the chance to admire the sharp contours of his toned abs and chest. Each glowing star freckle along his body leads to another, creating an alluring path that you enjoy following. Inevitably it traces back to the Metkayina tattoo you so adore along his hips, the exact area where your plush thighs are clenched around him. Your cheeks light up when you notice the way the black ink is quickly becoming covered with your shining slick, dribbling down the base of his cock and along his pelvis. 

Bracing your hands atop his pecs, you begin to experimentally roll your hips in figure eight motions. The effect has your puffed up clit dragging along the tattoo swirl of his lower abs. Lo’ak moans when you clench around him, already knowing it’s a sign of your impending orgasm. 

“Don’t be selfish, baby.” Neteyam warns from behind you. 

Lifting yourself up and down the thick length proves to be a challenge with the extra motion of the hammock. Every rock of your hips has it swinging from side to side and your knees shuffle constantly to find better grounding. The attempts only result in sinking up and down his cock a few inches before frustrated whimpers leave your throat. Lo’ak watches in amusement, seemingly enjoying the desperation that visibly builds within you. 

Neteyam pulls your thick curls together into a makeshift ponytail held by one of his hands. He tugs it every time you stop moving your hips, no matter how pointless your efforts are anyway. 

Lo’ak is motionless beneath you, providing no aid for your cause. His four-fingered hands tickle up your side before groping at the squishy flesh of your breasts. Complaints are heavy on the tip of your tongue as he alternates between squeezing there and flicking at the hardened tips. 

Tears begin to run down your cheeks when the feeling of climax starts to feel further and further away. The sheer stretch of your pussy and weight of his mushroom tip against your g spot is enough to keep you aroused but not to bring an orgasm forward. It leaves you in a torturous state of limbo. So close to getting what you want but still constantly out of reach. 

“Lo’ak..s-sir. Need you to m-move. I need help.” 

“I don’t know, yawne. I’m pretty content right here.” The corners of his lips twist up into a devilish grin, one that mocks your burning desire. 

“What did I say, little slut?” Neteyam sternly demands a response.

“It’s not about me. Sorry sir.”

“That’s right, baby. Tonight you’re going to let us use you. Teach this pretty little pussy how to be patient instead of only thinking about its own needs.” His sharp teeth nip at the curve of your spine. “And then maybe, just maybe, if you’re a good girl, we will let you cum.” 

His hips roll upwards suddenly, the head of his cock prodding at that sensitive bundle of nerves. A mix of a gasp and shriek comes from your throat, but it's the only extra help you receive. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, confident that he only did it to prove a point. You’re on their turf. You have no leverage to progress things to your desires. Instead you are forced to be obedient and hope that they have mercy on you. 

They draw out the torment for as long as possible. Etched teeth marks litter your back and sides from Neteyam’s teeth while your nipples are left raw and aching from Lo’ak’s teasing. Thankfully, Lo’ak can only hold off the temptation to fuck up into you for so long before his control snaps. When it does, there is no holding back. The curve of your red ass snaps against his pelvis in rapid motion to create lewd noises of slapping skin. His cock bullies its way in and out of you until it is the only thing that lights up your nerves. Even the suckling of skin and hair pulling from Neteyam becomes background.

“Look at you already fucked out, mama. Love how you look like this, taking my cock like you’re meant to.” Lo’ak growls out, fingers sure to leave marks from the grip on your hips. Were it not for Neteyam standing next to the hammock you are sure that it would be flying back and forth wildly. 

The walls of your tight pussy contract around him in anticipation of an orgasm. From the sloppy movements of Lo’ak’s thrusts you can tell that the younger Sully is close too. 

“So fucking tight. Gonna take all of my seed aren’t you?” Lo’ak’s eyebrows pull together till they are scrunched. You nod eagerly but Neteyam pulls your head back by the curls in his fist.

“You know the rules.” Neteyam growls, hot breath filtering into your shifting ears. 

“Then can I please-”

“No.” 

A sob finally crawls its way up your throat. Lo’ak doesn’t slow down and now you’re wishing he would stop all together. Anything to stop the euphoric sensations that are pushing you dangerously close to the edge. 

“Better hold it, mama.” Lo’ak reminds you and you can’t tell if he means his cum inside your pussy or the orgasm that is moments away from ripping through you.

Every muscle tenses in your inner thighs when you feel the ropes of seed cover your inner walls. Your legs clamp so hard around his waist that you wonder if they will leave behind purple bruises on his swirling skin. 

While Lo’ak is panting and catching his breath, lost in the post orgasmic afterglow, you are desperately trying to stop yourself from rocking back into him. Your body is determined to search for that stolen spike of ecstasy it was promised, but Neteyam lets go of your hair to hold you in place instead. 

Your pleading sobs fill the marui and Lo’ak runs his knuckles down your tear-stained cheeks.

“Poor yawne.” He coos. His hand circles around the back of your neck and pulls you to lean over him. “Somebody needs a kiss.” He mockingly muses before bringing your lips together.

It’s hard to concentrate on the tongue invading your mouth when every slight movement reminds you of the cock splitting you open and yet still depriving you of true pleasure. It doesn’t seem to matter though as Lo’ak take over the kiss, using his grip on your neck to teasingly control the tilt of your head to and fro. It’s an unnecessary assertion of power but one that you know Lo’ak enjoys regardless. 

“Up you go.” Neteyam urges you after the kiss is broken. He has to just about carry you off of Lo’ak and onto the ground as you can’t feel any strength left in your limbs. 

Lo’ak remains sprawled out upon the hammock with a shit eating grin in place. He enjoys the view as Neteyam manhandles you to your knees with the soft of your cheek pressed against the woven floor. Calloused hands spread your blushing cheeks apart to reveal your sopping entrance leaking the remains of Lo’ak. 

“Tonight could have gone a lot differently, baby girl.” His thumb brushes over your entrance. “Was looking forward to make up sex, maybe even breaking your record of orgasms in one night.” The bulbous head lines up with your pussy and you have to stop yourself from rocking back into it. 

“But instead you thought being a stubborn brat would be more fun.” He sheathes himself in one fluid thrust. Your lips part in a silent scream. It’s a miracle that you don’t lose the reins on your pleasure in that one move alone. 

“Something to work on, hm?” 

Apologies freely flow from your lips, mixed with moaned begging as he rails you from behind. Unlike Lo’ak, his pace is slow, hips drawing out into long thrusts that fill you completely until withdrawing to the tip. Despite your best efforts, your body takes over and tries to buck back against him. Neteyam clutches your thick tail in his grasp and uses it as a leash. 

It works wonders, allowing him to control the pace and depth. Your ears twitch to capture every moan and grunt that comes from him. Part of you wishes you never tried because the sounds only spur that coil in your core tighter to the point of almost snapping. Just the mental image of those hungry eyes curtained by swinging braids tempts you to let loose and allow the euphoric waves to wash over you. 

Unfortunately Neteyam can sense this. Months of learning every detail of your body has paid off for him in more ways than he can count. 

“Don’t even think about it, slut.” He growls out.

“I can’t help it, sir! Can’t hold back…Nete-”

He slips out of you, leaving behind your clenching pussy that seeks the relief of being filled again. Within seconds he has your thighs pressing closely together and the head of his cock slipping between them. Muscular arms keep them clenched together as he starts rutting his cock between your thighs. This new position has you whimpering for new reasons. It only allows occasional brushes against your clit but nothing good enough to get off.

“If you can’t handle it then this is what we’ll have to do, won’t we?” 

Your only comfort is Lo’ak’s hand that hangs down to pet your sweat soaked curls. You cry against those fingers as Neteyam continues to fuck himself between your thighs until he is arriving closer to release. 

Time is a foreign concept to you as a tortuous pattern continues. He uses the tight enveloping of your pressed thighs to pleasure himself until you are begging and pleading for him back inside with promises of not cumming without permission. Finally he resumes his place deep inside your pussy until either himself or Lo’ak, alerting him from above, notices you are close to losing control. Then the pattern continues, back to being empty and used. 

“What are you not going to do, baby girl?” He grunts out, mushroom tip gliding across your folds. 

“Come home late!” 

“And?”

You blank at the thought. Too focused on keeping your orgasm at bay it’s hard to remember what else you are being punished for. Silence drags on as Neteyam continues and the silent tension starts to weigh the air heavy in your lungs. 

“He may be a stickler, mama, but I would do what he says.” Lo’ak draws out in a sing-song voice, a nonchalant warning that is not meant to be taken lightly. You shoot him pleading eyes from the ground but he only shakes his head at you. 

“Come on, Pearl.” He mocks the nickname through gritted teeth. 

By the grace of Eywa you are finally able to choke out the expected response.

“Hang out with other males while avoiding you.” 

Your walls stretch around him once more for who knows how many times in a row now. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Luckily, you don’t have to hold yourself back for long as he fills your pussy within a matter of a few thrust. He seats himself to the hilt, making sure not a drop is wasted. Your sex is swollen and aching when he finally pulls out, cum leaking over the sensitive folds. 

“Please sir.” You softly beg, turning back to send the eldest brother big doe eyes. Neteyam only gives you a disapproving tut before helping you back onto your feet. 

“The night’s just begun, mama. And we are far from finished.” Lo’ak calls, making your head snap towards him. 

Neteyam helps to settle you between the two of them on the hammock. It’s a tight fit but one that the three of you are familiar with. However, tonight, every brush of smooth skin against you feels like a mockery of what you want. With Lo’ak pressed behind you, his renewed hard on is clearly evident. 

“Be a good girl and keep me warm, mama.” He purrs into your ear before the head of his cock slips past your entrance. At first you are hopeful that this means another round of fucking where you may finally prove yourself and recieve your reward but those hopes die quickly when you are positioned to take him fully and keep pressed there.

“Lo’ak please. Want you so bad.” You mean for the words to come out sensual and tempting but instead it is more of a slur as you bat your tired eyes at him. 

“Don’t worry yawne, we’ve got all night for that.” He chuckles before nuzzling into the back of your neck. Neteyam’s own laugh joins his brother’s before he pecks your forehead and settles into his own slumber. It takes several slaps to the thigh and whispered warnings before you finally calm down and slip into a deep sleep, a long night still awaiting you. 

The next day, bone tired and barely able to walk, Neteyam and Lo’ak do the honors of walking you to the cove where you had promised to meet Akeo. You offered to stay behind and blow Akeo off but the brothers do a one eighty on you and insist that you spend time with your friend. You are confused by this change of heart, that is until you get a glimpse of yourself and realize that not only are you unable to walk properly but you’re also covered in possessive marks and bites. 

Arms slipped around your waist and shoulders for support, they slowly walk you to where Akeo waits. The conversation and pass off is pleasant but you are sure that even your friend can see the cocky mischief that dances in their twin pair of golden eyes. 

“Be good, sweetheart.” Neteyam whispers before kissing your temple. Lo’ak follows suit and the two leave you leaning against a tree trunk. 

You try to appear nonchalant while gripping the harsh bark to keep yourself upright. Akeo crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. 

“Not the boss of you, huh?” The Metkayina male chuckles mockingly. You go to swat at him but the attempt is borderline useless as it only shifts your balance against the tree. 

“Shut up, you skxawng!” The venom in your voice does nothing to drown out the bounding laughter that comes from your friend. It’s hard to appear intimidating with trembling limbs and a stretched pussy that still remembers the events of the night before. 

Taglist: @luvv4j4ybe11​ @shadowmoonlight0604 @pandorxxx​ @neteyamtesuli

[atlasofthestaars]

[MK X READER] New Era - Chapter .014

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NOTES:

Hoping for the best that I get this out sooner than nearly 3 weeks haha I’ll update this part with how that goes.

Edit: I had a very hectic last few weeks. Oops. But here’s the chapter finally haha

Some of the ideas in the fic, like the Johnny section was helped by some of my anons on tumblr, ty guys for interacting!

As requested, here’s Rain’s repoll! Probably the only repoll I will do haha ^^ AO3 fans give me your thoughts! The poll will end in a week!

FROM THE EYES OF SOMEONE WHO HAS TO HELP SOMEONE OUT

“I thought I would find you here.”

It was a warm night. It was the type of night where one could sit outside for hours on end listening to the crickets chirp. The sky above was the perfect accompaniment this particular night, being so clear and free from clouds and any sort of light pollution that you could nearly see the entirety of the universe above. It was the perfect night for one to relax and enjoy life. 

But that was not what was happening.

You stood on the very beginning of the crest of the hill, a little away from Liu Kang. Your eyes scanned the hunched over form of your friend. It was an odd look on him, a form so undisciplined from one of the most diligent men you knew. As odd as it was, it only made sense. After all, how could you expect a picture perfect form from a man who has lost his best friend?

The grass rustled as you walked forward, moving to stand right next to where Liu Kang sat. You kept your gaze forward, not turning your head to look at him. You didn’t need to. Without even looking at his face, you could tell all the emotions that he must be experiencing. Frustration, grief, loneliness. It was the same emotions that had been clinging to your friend like tar for a while now.

So, instead, you stared adamantly at the tree. A rush of emotions surged through you as your gaze settled on it. So many memories were connected to this tree. Long days of just relaxing under this tree with Kung Lao came to mind. The three of you would sit under here, chatting and enjoying each other’s companies as the cicadas would sing in the background. 

Or sometimes, you would find Kung Lao here, having sneakily gotten out of lessons to simply sit and snack on a few treats he had stolen from the kitchen. You never sold him out. Even when your father gave you a pointed look, you would feign innocence and claim that you had no idea where the razor hatted man went. 

It only made sense to bury him here, underneath the tree he loved so, so much. It was even his favorite type of tree, the cherry blossom. 

A certain silence hung in the air. It was the silence that could only be made by those who have lost someone important to them. It was the combined silence of someone who had let grief consume him and of someone who refused to grieve yet. The two reactions to the death of your friend could not be any more different between the two of you, but the unspoken words between you two could not be any more the same.

You both missed him, dearly.

“He died in vain.” Liu Kang spoke, breaking the vow of silence he had taken on. His voice was hoarse. You knew it must be from the lack of talking. But there was another part of you who knew the gravel-like quality to his voice must be from his grief and how it tore at him. You could not help but let out a sigh as you dropped your eyes to the humble gravestone in front of you.

“I know.” You replied, your voice laced with resignation. There was a tremble in your voice, your lip quivered for a moment before you set your jaw to prevent the little sign of weakness from persisting. You could not help the slump in your shoulders. It was a hard, harsh truth you’ve come to accept. As much as you’d like to believe that Kung Lao’s death meant something, the invasions Outworld has been sending as of late has proven otherwise. 

You turned your gaze to Liu Kang. It was not inaccurate to say he looked like a wreck. Reddened eyes which felt like they carried the weight of the world met yours. You could still see the freshly dried tear tracks on Liu Kang’s face. It seemed like, at least for now, the champion had finally run out of tears to shed for his long time friend.

“Kung Lao would hate to see you like this.” You said, unable to keep the words from tumbling out of your mouth. You observed the way the man carried himself, and how he almost seemed like a different man entirely. The fury that he had held when he had slain Shao Kahn had burnt out, and only in his eyes could you see the remnants of the dying embers.

“I wish he were here to at least see it.” Liu Kang spat out, bitterness dripping from his voice. You did not flinch at it. You knew well enough the vitriol in his tone was not directed at you. Even if it was, the man was hurting. How could you blame him? His head raised to look at the cherry blossoms, idly watching as a few dropped and scattered around in the breeze.

“Hey, look at me.” You said, tone gentle and soft. You watched as Liu Kang kept his gaze aloft, eyes searching the skies above for an answer to his prayers. You sighed as you raised a hand, putting it gently to his cheek. Even when his fire was put out, he felt warm. Your thumb rubbed softly upon his cheek, taking a moment to wipe away the tracks that the tears left. “I know you’re grieving, but you’re falling apart.”

Liu Kang leaned into your touch. You watched as his eyes attempted to brim with tears he no longer had. His hand rose to cover yours, clinging to it as if your hand was a lifeline. You felt your heart shatter at the sight, but still, you refused to let the man in front of you see your resolve break. You could care less if he saw you at your weakest, you trusted Liu Kang enough to let down your walls. But you knew now you did not have the luxury.

The world was falling apart. Invasions were arriving. You and others would need to forge a group to fight them off. Raiden would need a confidant who had a clear mind. Liu Kang needed an anchor to keep him from drifting off. All of these duties needed someone who could rise to the occasion, and you were willing to do so your allies would not have such a heavy burden.

It was the very least you could do to make up for failing Kung Lao. You could only hope that the others did not see how much your heart was aching too.

“I’m not asking you to stop grieving.” You said. You were slow to speak, choosing each word carefully so as to not upset your friend anymore than he was. “I’m not asking you to forget him either, but you need to start living again.” The way you delivered those words felt less like a moving speech to inspire him to move on, but more like a desperate plea. 

“How?” Liu Kang’s voice cracked and at the same time, your heart squeezed. His eyes searched you, as if the answer to his question would be written upon your skin. You felt his hand squeeze yours with desperation. You did not complain about the tight grip, keeping your gaze steady on his face. “How am I supposed to live knowing he won’t be here anymore?”

In truth, you didn’t know how. But you couldn’t tell your friend that. You couldn’t let him drift aimlessly anymore than he already was, you had to do something. So, instead, you gave him a soft smile as you rubbed his cheek softly once more. You prayed to the elder gods that he did not see the weakness in your eyes.

“Well first, you must take little baby steps.” You said, trying to think of the years worth of advice you had gotten from your father. “I think the first step you can begin to do is to start taking care of yourself again.” You gestured to his form. “Stop skipping meals, stop spending hours out here on end, and start letting yourself accept the fact that he is gone.” You took a deep breath. “I know that sounds like a lot, but I can’t watch you let yourself deteriorate anymore.” 

“But Kung La-”

“Wouldn’t want you to stay by his grave like this.” You interrupted him, sending him a worried look. You closed your eyes and thought back to your friend. “If anything, he’d be upset that you’re doing this. He’d want you to live in his stead, to carry on his stories.” You paused, opening your eyes to watch Liu Kang’s face as you let him absorb your words. 

There was a long period of silence that stretched between you. Afraid to break the fragile tension, you even held your breath. Conflict danced in his eyes, wavering between whether to trust you or the hurt that dragged him down. Silently, you pleaded for him to believe you. You already couldn’t save one friend, you had to save another. 

You couldn’t fail again.

“Alright.” Liu Kang croaked. And finally, you let yourself breathe. His eyes fluttered closed as he seemed to lean his weight into your hand. In that moment, it felt like you took on his burdens. You forced your hand to be still, so he did not see your will waver. The slightest of slimes appeared on his lips, and you felt your heart soar. For even just a bit of his happiness, you would take on the world. “I’ll try.”

“Thank you.” You whispered, hoping he didn’t hear the way your voice nearly cracked. His eyes opened, and you put on a smile for him. You watched as he sat there, watching you for a few more moments before he let go of your hand. When stood up, wobbling just a touch. You wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. Gently, you squeezed his hip. “Come on, let’s go inside, Princess Kitana has been dying to thank you for freeing her and I have to go with Nightwolf to find a new base in America to help with the recent invasions.”

“Thank you.” Liu Kang said, his voice full of warmth.

“It’s no issue.” You said, your words full of sincerity and fondness. “I would do anything for you.” You told him, a broad smile on your lips. Your heart felt lighter than it has in a while. Just barely, you caught the hint of pink upon his ears when he turned his head. “I’ll have your back, always, Liu Kang.”

Waking up felt like a haze. 

The warmth of Liu Kang’s flank against your side lingered. You laid upon the bed, which had been somewhat patched up due to you sewing up the sheets and the mattress. Your hand fiddled with the sheets, staring up at the soft glow on the ceiling as you ruminated upon what you had discovered and what to exactly do with this information.

How strange it was despite your long years of knowing Liu Kang, you still had memories left to discover with him connected to them. And those words you said, why did they feel so familiar? Not familiar in the sense that you had said them, but you swore you heard them elsewhere. You thought long and hard about it, trying to find a rhyme or reason why you had these feelings. There were several minutes that passed. You sighed as you rubbed your head. The most logical conclusion you could come up with was that it was because you’ve been in Outworld.

What else could it be? All these memories did resurface ever since you’ve gotten here.  

You paused, a sudden thought breaking through the rest like a sprinter did when they ran towards the finish. You breath caught as you stared at the ceiling. Was there any point in returning to Earthrealm if all your memories were here? You laid there for a long while after, unable to ignore the logic your brain was conjuring up.

You groaned as rubbed at your face. There was no point incessantly worrying over this issue, it was not like you could do anything to change the duration of your stay here. At least, that’s what you’re trying to convince yourself. The little whisper in your head would try and continue to try and think over it. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Your fingers glided over the hasty sewed up areas of the bed, noting the bumpiness. You’d just hope no one would notice. 

Then, after a few more moments of sitting, you sighed. You sighed so hard, like you were trying to relinquish your worries that way. You closed your eyes, trying to rid your worries once more. Then after that futile attempt, you got up and stretched. Might as well start your day.

After going through the morning routine you’ve become somewhat accustomed to, you stepped out into the hall. Perhaps it was the room, or maybe it was the last of the warm memories finally leaving, but it felt…colder outside. Not enough to have you shivering, but it sent a slight chill through you. A few goosebumps appeared on your arms.

You stood there for a moment. At first, you didn’t realize why, but then as you heard the tapping of feet coming from the far down hallway you realized you were waiting. You turned your head to see the usual culprit, Princess Kitana. You gave her a cheery wave to which she gave a respectable nod. You met her halfway down the hallway. If someone were to observe, they may notice, just for a fleeting moment, that her steps went faster before meeting you.

“Glad to see we’re both back on schedule.” You commented, a light playful tone to your voice. You watched as Kitana’s eyes squinted slightly, the edges of her lips curved upwards in the slightest smile. She hummed, a hint of amusement in her voice. As soon as you joined her side she seemed to be content and nodded, as if she were acknowledging that contentment. Still, as you stood next to her, you felt that familiar nagging feeling once more.

Why did you always feel it around her?

“I heard you got the privilege to tour the Imperial Academy.” Kitana spoke, breaking the silence. Her voice did not hide her intrigue at the idea of you at the academy. Her eyes seemed to rake over you, scrutinizing every little detail of you she could see. You resisted the urge to shiver, to not show the slight moment of weakness upon her observant gaze. “How did you find it?” She inquired a moment later, her voice seeming to imply she already knew your answer. Your eyebrows raised just very at the thought. 

“It was lovely.” You admitted, finding yourself unable to conceal the underlying admiration you felt towards the location. You tilted your head upwards to look at the vast expanse of white marble overhead, thinking of all the wonders you had seen. You were even beginning to see the swirls of magic within the material above. You didn’t think you were obsessed, but it would be hard to deny that idea with how you were seeing things that weren’t even there. You didn’t notice how her smile grew, becoming less restrained. “I wish magic was more used in Earthrealm, it’d be nice to see a school much like the academy there.”

“You seem very interested in magic.” The princess said, reading your reaction. It wasn’t an incredibly difficult feat though, it was obvious to anyone who could see. You could not help but nod in response, only feeling a touch embarrassed at being so obvious. A small chuckle left your lips. Her eyes seemed to soften, if just a touch. “If I recall correctly, you have magic as well. Animal shapeshifting, correct? I overheard it at the banquet.”

“Yes, animal shapeshifting.” You confirmed. You held out your hand, letting it shift into a lion’s paw outstretched with its claws out. You saw the hint of amazement in Kitana’s eyes. Her eyes traced the length of your transformed limb, then stared intently at the flesh where it transitioned. “I’d like to think I’m rather proficient in it.”

“I see.” The blue clad princess said, her tone indicating a hint of interest at your display of magic. “Had you been an Outworlder, I would say you would have a chance at excelling greatly at the Academy.” She admitted. For a moment, your heart skipped a beat at the high praise. Then, you felt a little silly at being so pleased at the compliment. After all, it’s not like it meant you could get in even with your magical skills.

“A shame that I’m not.” You say, a small wistful tone in your voice. It still felt…odd to not label yourself as an Outworlder. In Earthrealm, you did not feel right calling yourself one of them. But here, you did not feel right calling yourself an Outworlder either. Was there really a label you’d feel comfortable with?

“Perhaps, in another life, you could have.” Kitana said, offering you an apologetic smile. You nearly stumbled in your steps upon hearing those words, and the nagging feeling disappeared as the pieces fell into place. Your eyes widened and you stared at the princess, who seemed none the wiser as she gazed into the Great Hall, which you both had ended up at finally.

That’s why you had that feeling and why it was always around her.

Those were the exact words she said as she had laid dying in your lap, in that vision you had about the amulet. Your fingers twitched as you took in a deep breath, holding back a wave of nostalgia as you gazed at her for a few moments more. It was an odd feeling, seeing the princess alive and healthy with little idea of who you were compared to the last time when she had said those words and she had been one of your closest allies and dying in your lap.

“Enjoy the match.” Kitana bid you goodbye, offering a small smile before walking off. You nodded, barely able to return her goodbye before she was out of earshot. Your gaze lingered on her a moment more. Your stomach twisted, and you were uncertain how to make use of the information you had gleaned.

Why did it seem like everyone you had cared about in the last life died? 

Was that fated to happen once more?

Before you could get too lost in your spiraling thoughts, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Your thoughts paused, as if the hand on your shoulder pulled you away from all the noise. You turned your head slowly to see Kenshi looking at you, eyebrows raised. You sent him a bit of a forced smile, trying to not worry him any more than he seemed to be.

“You were spacing out.” Kenshi said simply. His eyes focused on you, searching your face for any indication for your unusual behavior. You felt your smile grow the slightest bit strained, like a string being pulled just a bit too tight. His eyebrows knit together, and you felt a sense of embarrassment at how he could read your expression.

Or maybe you were just easy to read in general. Either way, you didn’t feel too great about that.

“Early mornings, you know how it is.” You said, using possibly the lamest excuse you could have. You nearly wanted to smack your forehead as you realized how uncharacteristic that sounded as well. If anyone were to say that excuse, you were the last one who should have. Your jaw set a tiny bit more, trying to make your smile more prominent.

“I see.” Kenshi said, after a few more moments. There was an odd tension between the two of you. It was the type of tension that could only be made between someone who had lied very, very horribly, and by someone who could see right through the lie as if it were the most polished glass in the world. His hand squeezed your shoulder. 

Your gaze dropped to the hand on your shoulder. You stared at the tattoo on his hands, having nearly forgotten the designs on his hands. He didn’t put them on display very often. Your lips pursed, and you thought long and hard about whether he had similar tattoos, if any, in the old timeline. You don’t think he did.

“See something interesting?” Kenshi’s words cut through your thoughts. You glanced up, seeing his concerned expression having changed into one of interest. The ex-yakuza member’s eyebrows were raised, and his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. His eyes, which you now noted to be just the perfect shade for him, were trained on you. There was a certain tone to his voice that you couldn’t pin down, was it playfulness?

“I was just looking at your tattoos. They’re really pretty.” You admitted, before wanting to smack yourself. It was not because of the admittance, it was because you had forgotten the connection the tattoos had to his past. “Not that I think they’re too pretty, because of your connection with your past.” You quickly added on, resisting the urge to cringe at the addition. You sighed and closed your eyes, shaking your head. “I think they’re nice, regardless of your past, is what I meant.” 

“Maybe the early morning is getting to you.” Kenshi said, his voice having just the tiniest hint of a teasing lilt to it. Once more, he squeezed your shoulder. His eyes seemed to shine a bit, and a smile grew. Out of all your champions, he smiled the least. But whenever he did, you always seemed to notice how bright it felt to you. “But thank you for the compliment, now let’s join the group. Even Cage is there now.”

And so, the two of you walked over to the group. A round of greetings were passed between the group. You did your best to maintain your steady composure. It was getting harder and harder with all the memories coming back rapidly, especially with how dreadful they’ve been lately. Liu Kang and Kung Lao’s greetings were the hardest to return as you were trying your best not to space out and linger on the differences between their past selves and now.

Still, you did it, and no one seemed the wiser. Kung Lao had even given you some food. You were nearly honored by the gesture, knowing he saved you some food instead of taking it all for himself. You let out a small huff at the little wink he sent your way when he handed you an extra portion. 

“What was up with your little moment with Tattoo?” Johnny asked, leaning over with an all too nosy tone in his voice. You’ve seen the older women in Fengjian be less nosy than he was. And man were they always vying for some gossip whenever you visited Madam Bo. You sent him a perplexed look, which seemed to spur him on. “You know, like, when he had his hand on your shoulder.” He said. His hands were very emotive, portraying the story all on their own.

“Nothing.” You said, dismissively. You shrugged, and you watched as Johnny seemed to deflate at your answer. He was either not pleased at the lackluster answer, or how little you elaborated. Probably even a mixture of both. “It was seriously nothing, he just noticed I was spacing out.” You continued, hoping to satiate the little bit of curiosity he had.

“Mhm, sure.” He replied, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “We’ll discuss this later.” The actor insisted. You opened your mouth to respond that there was nothing else to discuss, but then the Empress and princesses strode in, causing you to fall silent. Instead, you sent him a hint of a glare. Of course, the actor didn’t care, just sending you a sunny grin in return.

What unlucky timing.

“Once again, we gather to witness another day of the tournament.” Sindel announced, scanning the crowd. When her eyes landed on Raiden, who seemed to be growing in confidence with every win, her lips pursed. You held back a chuckle at the slight annoyance that glimmered in her eyes. You saw her take in a deep breath before continuing. “After three fights, your resolve has not yet broken.” She observed, raising an eyebrow. “Today, we shall see if that will change.”

There was a pause before she continued.

“Today, you shall fight one of my most trusted allies.” The Empress announced. You were surprised for a brief moment. The last two fights were chosen by the general, did she finally get fed up with his choices? You held back yet another laugh at the prospect. “Sheeva of the Shokan shall be your opponent today.” 

From the end of the hallway emerged a broad, tall figure. Nearly rivaling Kotal in size, a woman dressed in battle-ready armor appeared. You felt a slight buzz upon seeing her, but nothing overly major. Her armor, though indicative of a warrior, appeared different from the ones that both Reiko, Kotal, and General Shao had all donned. It was a hint more decorative, and it reminded you very slightly of the umgadi gear. A purple sash that matched Sindel’s colors was pinned across her body.

“Sheeva is one of the best warriors from the Shokan. Fierce and loyal, she is one of the best guards and warriors I have come to know.” Sindel said, a certain type of fondness in her voice. It felt like a stark contrast to the way she had regarded Li Mei. Sheeva seemed to take the praise in stride, holding her head up high. All four of her arms flexed, showing the muscles that she had gained through the years. “May she grace us with a fight to display just how well she can fight.”

“I have heard many things about your prowess, young one.” Sheeva spoke, gazing down at Raiden. Her face, though it looked unimpressed, did seem to hold just a bit of respect within it. Her upper arms crossed over her chest, while the lower set of arms were firmly placed upon her hips. Her gaze was so strong it was nearly unnerving. “We shall see if they are true.”

“I will try my best to prove it true.” Raiden replied, nodding. Despite the difference in both bulk and height, Raiden seemed to not be cowed in the slightest. You smiled at the sight, feeling proud of the strength he displayed. He has certainly come a long way since the beginning of your training. From a meek sapling to a strong, sturdy tree.

Sheeva’s way of fighting reminded you a bit of Reiko’s. They both utilized the same grappling style, trying to latch onto Raiden like a leech to hit him. The Shokan was amazingly proficient at using all of her arms within combat. Her fighting style, though like the second in command, did not match the calculated way she fought. That part of her felt more like Kotal.

Her brutality was not out of bloodlust, but from the cold precision of knowing her true strength and how to use it against her opponent. Even when she stomped harshly on Raiden’s back, there was no maniac energy from her. It was a detail that you did not miss.

Had Raiden not fought against other grapplers and those who already outsized him in a match, he would have fared far worse. But, unfortunately for the Shokan, it seemed that the previous two matches only served to prepare him for this fight. Sure, he did take a heavy hit here and there, but for the most part it went far smoother than the last few matches did. 

It did not take long for him to stand over Sheeva, a tired but elated look on his face.

“I hope that proved my determination to you.” He said, his voice a bit breath as he adjusted his rumpled clothes. A groan left the beaten Shokan’s face. But as she stumbled to her feet, she seemed to nod in response. Her head dipped low, a look of shame coating her face. She seemed to hold herself a little less tall now. The two exchanged bows, before the woman walked out, her footsteps heavy with defeat.

“Congratulations upon yet another win.” Sindel said, her lips curling upwards. Her smile, once again, did not reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes did not even seem to follow the victor. Instead, they trailed after Sheeva, a slight look of disappointment within them. She cleared her throat, and the momentary weakness disappeared. “We shall adjourn at first light once again.”

“Hah, was that even a challenge for you?” Kung Lao spoke, walking merrily to his friend. A playful shove was sent Raiden’s way. A small “ow” left his lips as he rubbed his arm, which certainly must be sore from how Sheeva had been tugging him around. “I think you’ve got this in the bag!” He encouraged, though this time it lacked the little shove.

“Indeed, your training reflects well in your matches.” Liu Kang added in. He sent a little bit of a look towards Kung Lao. “Remember not to grow complacent, the next few matches may prove to be more challenging than the previous ones.” He warned. His hands were clasped neatly in front of him. The fire god’s gaze then turned to you, expectantly.

“Lord Liu Kang is right. As long as you remember what we taught you when you fight, you’ll do fine.” You said, giving him a small smile. You crossed your arms as you shifted your weight. “But I do agree, you’ll need to be vigilant. I’d say it was a lucky streak that your last opponents had similar fighting styles, but the next few may fight very differently from them.” You placed a hand on his arm, trying to be comforting. “But I, and so do the rest of us, believe in you.”

“I-” Raiden began, seeming a bit caught off guard by either your words or the touch on his arm. He cleared his throat, a faint flush on his cheeks. Johnny took your attention away by slinging an arm around your shoulders. Turning to give him a confused look and to shrug off his touch, you missed the brief look that Raiden sent your way before you turned back. “I understand, I’ll do my best.” 

“Good.” You commended, sending him a bigger smile this time. Then, after a moment, your hand dropped from his arm. Liu Kang picked up from your little moment, telling the group a few things before he dismissed them. You watched as Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden all walked off. But Kung Lao lingered, a look of contemplation on his face. You tilted your head as you walked forward to stand next to the man. “Something on your mind?”

“Just thinking.” Kung Lao answered, a thoughtful tone to his voice. You raised your eyebrows, nodding to see if he would go on. After a few moments, he did. “I know Raiden deserved to be the champion but…” He said, trailing off as he looked to the side. You nodded, placing a hand on his bicep and squeezed it gently, making him return his gaze to you.

“I admire your willingness to fight.” You said, cautiously picking your words. The memory of the old Kung Lao dying because he had been far too eager to fight lingered in your mind. Was it a warning of things to come? Or was it merely just a stain in your mind that would never go away? “But know that we all see your value even without you launching yourself head first into battle.” You pinched his arm. “Don’t go around and be reckless to try and prove yourself, okay?”

“If I were to fight though, I’d win.” Kung Lao retorted playfully, but that attitude melted away to reveal a more genuine smile. “I know, though.” He said, nodding. “I promise I won’t go around picking fights…unless they deserve it.” He said, grinning at you. When you sent him an unamused look, he rolled his eyes before laughing. “I’m kidding! I won’t.” He claimed, raising his hands up in surrender.

“Good. I’m going to do some shopping now, okay?” You said, nodding with a satisfied smile. You dropped your hand, missing the way the farmhand’s eyes trailed after it. As you were about to walk off to go tour Sun Do for gifts, you felt a hand upon your arm. Your eyes trailed up from the hand to the culprit. It was none other than Johnny. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah.” The actor said, his smile that was so bright it nearly rivaled the sun. His hand dropped so he could spread his arms out wide. “Saw the other day that Rai-dude got to have a day with you, it’s my turn now.” He announced, seeming almost a bit too proud of himself. “That, and I did say we had stuff to discuss later.”

“We’re taking turns hanging out?” Kung Lao spoke up, having not left yet. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked back and forth between you and Johnny Cage. A look of utter confusion was obvious on his face. You were nearly certain that a similar look was upon your face. You were no less confused than he was. “When am I getting my day?” 

“We’re not taking turns, don’t worry about it.” You reassured the former farmhand. You looked back at Johnny with an exasperated look. “Don’t say things like that, people will get the wrong idea, Cage.” You scolded him pointing a finger his way. “Why do you even need me to accompany you today?” You inquired. You noticed the slightly irritated tone in your voice and sent him an apologetic look. “Not that I mind.”

“I need someone to help take some pictures of me around Sun Do so I can post it on my socials.” The American informed you causally. Either he didn’t notice the tone in your voice, or didn’t care. You were assuming that with him, it was the latter. A broad grin crossed his features as a more confused look appeared over your face. 

“But I wouldn’t anyone else be bet-” You began. You were shortly cut off by Johnny grabbing your hand. With a surprised shout, you were dragged off by Johnny outside of the palace before you could protest more. Too stunned, you let him lead you away, mind still mulling over the strange excuse he had given you.

Left in the dust was Kung Lao who looked at where you two had disappeared to. There was a moment where there was nothing but sheer confusion spread across his face. Then, Kenshi passed by, having returned to the Great hall. He looked at the farm hand with a perplexed look as well. He glanced back and forth between where Kung Lao was looking and the man himself.

“Are you okay?” The swordsman asked, having not been there to witness the little scene. 

“Yeah.” Kung Lao said, snapping out of his stupor. He shook his head, trying to dispel the strange hurt feeling he felt before shrugging. “I’m just really, really confused.”

“You didn’t have to drag me out here, Cage.”

“Nah, I totally did have to.” Johnny said simply. The blunt response stunned you for a moment. Normally, you would have a witty remark or be able to bounce back. But with how strange Johnny has been lately, you’ve found yourself more and more uncertain of what to say in response. You didn’t quite like how speechless you’ve become. 

“No, you really didn’t have to.” You insisted. Your words fell upon deaf ears as Johnny continued to drag you towards the capital. It wasn’t until you both made it to the city that he finally released your hand. You sighed as you sent him a look before shaking your head. “Well, we’re here.” You stated the obvious, looking around at the crowd. “Where did you need the picture?”

“Oh, we don’t need to do that now.” The actor told you with a grin. You stared at him with a look of disbelief. “In fact we have to wait. I wanted to do these pictures at sunset so we can get those sweet, sweet colors.” You looked upwards into the sky, noting just how early it was. Sunset was hours away. You sighed, you guess you were stuck with the man for a bit. He didn’t seem dismayed at all by your reaction, instead slinging an arm around you and leaning in close. “So, where to first?”

“I didn’t really have a plan.” You said, crossing your arms. “I was really going to go window shopping.” You inform him, trying to think of ideas for the two brothers you hadn’t gotten gifts for yet. So far, you were drawing a blank. Glancing over to Johnny, who seemed to be very pleased with placing almost all his weight upon you, you pursed your lips. “I suppose you don’t have any ideas for what to get Bi-Han and Kuai Liang?”

“The ninjas?” Johnny inquired, eyebrows raising. Before you could correct him that they weren’t quite ninjas he continued, “I dunno, some breath mints for frost face?” He suggested, shrugging. You sent him an exasperated look, but you supposed asking Johnny out of any of them was the wrong decision. He probably didn’t hold either of them in such high regard after what they did to his…Hichuli. He laughed at your reaction, nudging you. “Okay, fine, how about we go window shopping like you said, we’re bound to think of some ideas.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You said, nodding. You stood there, waiting for him to move. When he remained leaning against you, you raised your eyebrows. “Are you expecting me to be able to drag you around everywhere?” You inquired, a tinge of amusement in your voice apparent. A smile spread across your lips. Maybe it was because he was an actor, but he never failed to be entertaining to you.

“Where’s your sense of fun?” He groaned, a hint of a pout on his lips. Still, he relented and got off of you. With an overexaggerated bow that reminded you of certain characters in a movie, he gestured towards the city. “Lead the way?” He inquired, his eyebrows waggling playfully. You rolled your eyes at the grand performance and chuckled before beginning to walk over to the stores.

Even after touring part of Sun Do with Raiden, there were still plenty of shops you had not explored yet. Both you and Johnny peeked into stores, marveling over their wares with different degrees of wonder. There were a few times where you’d hear mutter how he wished that he had an easy way to convert his American dollars to the Outworlder coin. 

It took a while until you found a good gift. Or rather, until Johnny found a good gift.

“How about this?” The actor asked. The two of you had ended up in some sort of jewelry store. While you hadn’t been too keen on the wares here fitting the idea of a gift for either of the brothers, you both decided to tour it anyways. Upon seeing the suggestion Johnny lifted towards you, you were infinitely glad that you did.

You grabbed the ribbon he had held up, eyes wide with amazement. It was made of gold and black fabric, perfectly long enough to do someone’s hair. In fact, it seemed meant to be tied into one’s hair to keep it up. The thread work was immaculate. It was woven intricately, creating a pattern that vaguely reminded you of a scorpion. 

It was practically perfect.

“Where did you find this?” You asked. You rubbed your thumb over the design before flipping it over and admiring how soft the fabric was. You looked from the ribbon over to Johnny to see what may be the smuggest look you’ve seen on his face. “I mean, this is pretty much what I’ve been looking for.”

“Just over here.” Johnny told you, pointing his thumb in the direction of a display of other ribbons. You wandered over, humming as you perused the rest of the collection. Unfortunately, there was nothing that stuck out to you as something you’d want to give to Bi-Han. Still, as you looked back down at the ribbon in your hands, you were grateful to find something. “You seem really pleased by my findings.” He observed. You could hear the grin through his words. “Do I get to have a reward or something?”

“Or something.” You sassed back, shaking your head. Still, you looked over to the man with a smile. “Thanks for helping me, Johnny.” You thanked him sincerely. The smile he sent made your heart skip a beat, though you weren’t quite sure why. Deciding not lingering on the why part, you turned and went to the counter to pay for the item.

Surprisingly, it was cheaper than you expected. A fact that you were grateful for so you did not completely lose your money on this one gift. The centaurian man who helped you even offered to package it in a pretty gift box for free. 

“You’re not trying to find a pretty little trinket for yourself, wildstyle?” Johnny inquired as you rejoined him near the entrance. He sent you an inquisitive look as he crossed his arms. You shook your head as you tucked the box away into your bag for safe keeping. You would be devastated to find that you had lost the perfect gift for Kuai Liang. “You’re a strange one.”

“Really now?” You quipped back, raising your eyebrows as you turned back to look at him. You peered over to the sky, noting how low the sun had gotten. Browsing around had taken far more time than you had expected. It was nearly time for taking pictures soon, assuming that the man still wanted them. “Did you want to go find a spot to take your pictures now? Or did you still want to help me look for Bi-Han’s gift?”

“Still don’t get why you’re buying gifts for the man who broke my Hichuli, but I guess we’ve got some more daylight to burn.” Johnny replied, shrugging.

And so, the two of you continued to browse. Unfortunately, even between the two of you, you still failed to find something appropriate for the icy grandmaster. Luckily for you, you still saw that there were plenty of stalls to go through. Tomorrow, perhaps you’d have better luck.

That’s how you got to the pier, squinting down at Johnny’s phone. You’ve rarely touched his phone. The only times you’ve bothered to interact with it was to play Candy Crush whenever the actor wanted to bribe you to give them a break, or to show Kung Lao the video. 

Still, holding it in your hands, something about the device felt oddly…familiar.

“You know how to take a picture, right?” Johnny said, leaning over to point at the screen. You looked over to him, giving him a sigh.

“That’s what I was going to tell you, Cage.” You told him, sending him an exasperated look. You had nearly forgotten about his little excuse to drag you out here. How silly it seemed now. You thought about telling him if he had just asked to accompany you on your little shopping trip that you would have let him, but you figured you were past that point now. “I have no idea how to really take a picture, so your luck with me taking actual quality ones for your social media is pretty low.”

“You’ll probably have a knack for it.” The actor encouraged you. He positioned so he could wrap his arms around you, placing his hands upon yours. While Johnny was usually touchy, this felt…different. You suppressed a shiver as you noted how gentle he was being. “Here, lift it up to this angle.” He instructed, his voice quieter than usual. And yet, when it was right next to your ear you hardly noticed how he was pretty much whispering. Was your face getting hot?

“Good.” Johnny praised, and like usual, you could hear the smile in his voice. The smile your heard though, was a different type of smile. It wasn’t arrogant or smug. It felt like he was proud of you. “You’ll want to tap the screen if it’s out of focus.” He said, and tapped on the screen to demonstrate. You nodded, pursing your lips as you tried your best to focus on the task at hand. Did he really have to be this close though?

“Anything else I should know?” You asked, hoping the way you spoke didn’t reflect the way you were feeling oddly nervous right now. You had no idea why your nerves were acting up, it isn’t as if you were being tested on anything. You did not turn your head, feeling like you would grow more nervous if you turned your head to look at the man.

“Nope, you should be good. I’ll be telling you whenever to take a shot. Oh, taking a picture is this button by the way.” He said, pressing the circle at the bottom of the screen. You nodded diligently, back oddly straight as you tried to focus on anything but him. You had to hide your sigh of relief as he unwrapped his arms, backing up. “Alright, let me get into position.” 

You watched as Johnny jogged over to the spot he had apparently determined in his head. You kept your arms up, not wanting to lose the perfect angle that the man had decided for you. Still, the memory of his touch on your hands lingered in your mind. Johnny prepped himself, moving between a few poses before he settled on one and called out for you to take a picture. You grinned at the rather amusing pose he struck. Was he trying to pretend to hold the sun?

Nodding, you moved your thumb to press the button. Accidentally though, you made the screen flip, making it turn to your smiling face. Following that accident, you pressed the button. With a sigh, you furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to figure out how to turn it back around. After a few moments, you offered him an apologetic smile as he walked back to you.

“Did you get the shot?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. You shook your head and handed the phone over, sighing.

“I told you I didn’t know how to take pictures.” You sighed, pointing at the screen and how it was still using the forward facing camera. “I accidentally flipped the screen and made it take a picture of me.” You explained, your tone indicating your embarrassment at not knowing how to navigate the device well. You watched as he lifted the phone up, so he could see it better. The only issue now was that you couldn’t see it. “So I didn’t get the picture, sorry.”

“Main man Lord Liu Kang should really get you a phone so you can start learning. Don’t sweat it though, Teach.” Johnny observed, humming as he tapped the screen a few times. His eyes lit up after a few moments. A small smile curled onto his lips. Then, almost as if remembering you were there, he cleared his throat as he looked back to you. 

It was rare to see him taken off his guard.

“Here.” He said after a few moments. When the phone was handed back to you, it was correctly oriented this time. “Try not to switch it again, or do, I don’t mind having a few photos of you in my phone.” Johnny teased you, sending you a wink. Before you could retort, he jogged back to the spot. You shook your head, unable to resist a smile.

This time, you took what you thought was a pretty good picture.

By the time you and Johnny returned to the palace, it was dark. You had spent the fading bits of daylight on taking every picture you could. You thought it was excessive, but the actor had told you something along the lines of “we don’t finish until it’s perfect in the industry”. You had tried to tell him that there was no industry here, but he promptly ignored you.

You had half a mind to groan at his stubbornness.

“Busy day?” Raiden inquired, seeing the both of you walk into the hallway. It seems the reserved seats had changed for the both of you. You had a choice of either between Kenshi and Liu Kang or between Raiden and Kung Lao. You slipped into the one next to the champion, humming as you reached over to get your share of food. 

“You could call it that.” You replied. You muttered an apology as you bumped into Raiden as you leaned over. He took your apology in stride, smiling generously at you. “I managed to get another gift under my belt. No luck in finding one for Bi-Han though.” You said, sighing. “Then again, I predicted getting a gift for him would be the most difficult.”

“Maybe tomorrow I can help.” Kenshi spoke up. You glanced up at him, a bit of surprise on your face. You nearly missed the look of what you could only call betrayal on Kung Lao’s face. Why that was the case, you had no idea. You felt a little bad, it looked a little funny. You brought a hand to hide the bits of a smile that threatened to slip through. You hummed, tilting your head after you recovered from your near smile. You thought about the offer for a moment before nodding.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” You said. As you peered down at the food on the table, you missed the pointed looks the swordsman got. When you looked up, they were gone. “I’ve found that I find the gifts whenever I’m with one of you anyways, might as well not break the streak.” You said contemplatively. “How was the rest of the day for you guys?”

The rest of dinner went smoothly from there. There was chatter here and there, catching up on each other’s day. It wasn’t until dinner was over that you encountered something unexpected. You stood up from your seat, excusing yourself. You had plans to get a bit of alone time before your usual meeting with the princess. Yet, when you turned around you were met with the sight of Rain.

“Oh, hello.” You greeted, blinking owlishly. You offered a small wave, to which the mage returned. “Did you need something from me?” You asked, looking around to see if there was something obvious around to indicate what he wanted. 

“Ah, nothing much. I just wanted to talk.” He said, offering you a smile. You returned the smile, a hint of surprise and joy in your eyes. You knew Rain had offered you friendship the other day, but you didn’t actually expect him to want to spend more time together than he did yesterday. “Do you have the time for a little chat?” He inquired, his hands sweeping out to gesture to a hallway.

“Oh, definitely.” You said, nodding perhaps a bit too eagerly. You weren’t sure why, but Rain and you seemed to click quickly. You chalked it up to the shared interest in magic, and how he seemed to admire your drive to get better. “I’ll see you guys around.” You said, waving to the group before you walked off with your new friend.

“Lord Liu Kang, your stare is…intense.” Raiden pointed out quietly after you and your new friend disappeared down the hallway. The Fire God diverted his gaze away from where you had gone to the champion. He cleared his throat, putting on a cordial smile.

“Do not worry about it.” Liu Kang reassured the man. He cast his gaze upon the rest of the group, nodding at them. “Enjoy the rest of your evening. I shall see you all tomorrow for Raiden’s next fight.” He then stood and disappeared too, retiring to his chambers.

Even gods like him were not immune to human emotions.

You had talked longer with Rain than expected. 

It wasn’t until you saw the man yawn that you realized just how late it had gotten. You felt a twinge of guilt course through you as you quickly realized you had to dismiss yourself. Searching around, you excused yourself, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I really should be going, I struggle with waking up without proper sleep.” You lied. You did feel bad lying to your new friend, but you weren’t certain just how public the information of your meetings with Mileena were. You figured it was best to play it safe and pretend they did not occur. With an understanding nod, the mage smiled.

“I understand.” He said. There was a pause, his lips parting before he shook his head. Your eyebrows raised at the action, but didn’t question it. You didn’t want to be too forward and scare him off.  “I hope to talk to you soon. It’s refreshing to talk to someone like you.” 

“I feel the same.” You told him, nodding. You watched him walk off, taking slow steps away. Then, as soon as you deemed yourself safe enough not to be caught in a lie, you slunk off in the darkness to the hanging gardens. You nearly transformed to make the job easier, but you figured that was more suspicious, so you stuck to the teachings Madam Bo had taught you.

Reaching the gardens, you let out a sigh. Here you felt safe enough to not sneak around. You looked around, spying for any sign of the princess. You caught a hint of pink, and walked right over. Just as expected, she was waiting on the bench for you.

“Apologies for my late arrival.” You said, not even certain if you were even late. It is not as if you had a clock to judge the time. Even if you did, you weren’t even sure if Outworld ran on the same time system as Earthrealm did. You rushed over to take your spot near her after she indicated towards it with her hand. “I got caught up in conversation.”

“Lucky for you, I just got here.” Mileena remarked. The jesting tone in her voice had you relax, letting out another sigh of relief. Hints of thinly veiled amusement sparkled in her eyes accompanying the little smirk on her lips. “I assume you were giving your champion a rousing speech for tomorrow’s match?” She inquired, an expectant tone in her voice.

“Ah, no actually.” You said. You felt a little silly, realizing that her assumption was something you actually should be doing. You knew Raiden did well off of praise. Not only that, but it didn’t hurt to be a little more encouraging towards the champion. Maybe you should do that tomorrow night, especially since you knew that if he won this one, he would have to fight the princess beside you. “I was talking to the High Mage, Rain.”

“I did not know you two were so…familiar.” The princess said, raising an eyebrow. You heard the curiosity in her tone. You chuckled at her phrasing, shaking your head as you waved your hands dismissively.

“Not at all.” You said, holding back a disbelieving chuckle. “He and I simply got along well during the banquet and became friends of sorts..” You explained. You turned your gaze away from the princess to the sky. “It’s refreshing to hear someone talk about magic with such fasciation and depth.” 

“I did not realize you were so intrigued by magic.” Mileena remarked. This time, a hint of surprise appeared in her voice. “Do you possess magic yourself, or are you simply fascinated by the subject?” She inquired. Her gaze scanned your form, trying to see any indication of magic upon your person. Her calculating gaze felt just like her younger sister’s.

“I have magic.” You said. “Magic doesn’t really exist in Earthrealm in the same ways it does here.” You explained. “Very little people know magic themselves, and the ones I know who have such magic don’t have the same passion as the people I’ve met here.” You shrugged causally.

“Perhaps it has something to do with the goddess Delia.” Mileena proposed. “As far as I am concerned, the only god Earthrealm has is Lord Liu Kang, correct?” She inquired. You nodded. You doubted Liu Kang would have hidden another god of Earthrealm from you. “Delia is the goddess of magic, it is natural that Outworld would simply have more magic than Earthrealm.”

“I suppose.” You said, not knowing what to quite respond to that. She was probably correct. You pursed your lips as you pondered on the subject of magic for a few moments more before realizing that Mileena had been staring at you. “Oh, right the story, my bad.” You said, straightening up. You cleared your throat before glancing at the princess. “Any particular stories you’d like to hear about tonight?”

“How about you tell me about Earthrealm’s version of magic?” The princess proposed, connecting the prior conversation to the story she wished to hear. You smiled at the sentiment, thinking of what to tell her before nodding and proceeding.

That night, you told her of magic. And that night, you tried your best to ignore the longing ache in your heart.

part fifteen

tagged - @bonezisded @lollipopin @simpxinnie @zhivaxo @koisuko

[vivid-ink]

Hey folks! Annalise here. 😄 Welcome to my blog where I compose works of fiction based on whatever fancies my brain fixates on.

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HUNGER GAMES: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes MASTERLIST

A TURN OF TABLES - Coriolanus Snow x Lucy Gray (oneshot)

AVATAR MASTERLIST

- SHOW ME & TEACH ME - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training?

What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

- TO KNOW YOU AGAIN - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya OC} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

“Do you remember our last night here? The night before my family left?” The warm, rumbling timbre of Neteyam’s voice washed over her.

“Yes,” Naia whispered. How could she forget?... She had replayed the memory of his lips over and over numerous times.

One corner of Neteyam’s mouth lifted in a small smile as his eyes tracked over the delicate bridge of her nose and over her steadily flushing cheeks. His gaze stopped to rest on her lips, “You gave me something that night. I think it's time I returned it."

Set 7 years after TWoW: An exploration of what if Neteyam had to leave a girl he was close to behind when his family fled to the reefs to seek refuge.

-THE LOVE SHACK - {Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya Reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)} 18+ MDNI (Complete)

Summary:

You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers.

And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?...

ONESHOTS & DRABBLES

Your Best Friend's Brother - {Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader} Mission Accomplished - {fem!HumanReader x Neteyam OR Lo'ak} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 01 - 'Handjob' prompt I See You - [fem!OmatikayaReader x dom!Alpha!Neteyam} 18+ MDNI - Kinktober 31 - 'A/B/O' prompt

***~ VividInk AO3 ~***

Want a novel-length adventure with a strong narrative? This one is 20 chapters (152k words) & too long to put on Tumblr, but I'm most proud of it! It's a real rollercoaster with a completely original plot!

- VIOLET EYES - {Neteyam x fem!Avatar OC} *Complete* 18+ MDNI

Also on Wattpad HERE

Violet Eyes Summary:

Ria’s gaze paused at his handsome face. Good God, he had grown… She remembered his striking face from years ago in a time of battle at sea, it had been softer with youth then. He had barely been taller than her. Now, he towered over her...

Neteyam lifted his gaze to hers; green-gold clashed with striking violet. Yes, he remembered those eyes. Even the years that had passed in-between had not made him forget.

He lowered his face, his lips curling in a snarl, “I should kill you.” The English words were stilted as he spoke, “But I will not. A life for a life.”

AU where Neteyam lives - set many years after The Way of Water, after the defeat of the humans.

[missmonsters2]

—ADRONITIS | One

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Wednesday's quite aware she has no people skills, but that doesn't stop her from wondering why she can't know everything about one person immediately.

Warnings: None.

Series Masterlist || Library Blog || AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Count: 1.9k

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Adronitis: noun. The frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Everyone who knows Wednesday can confidently say she's not a people person, and even Wednesday herself can tell you she's not. People are strange, annoying, emotional creatures that she's fairly certain she lacks a particular trait to handle. 

Of course, some individuals have unfortunately made it past her prickly walls. Her roommate and begrudgingly best friend, Enid, can be tolerated in longer spurts. Eugene is just another Pugsley, so she has to look after him. She supposes Xavier isn't dreadful to deal with. Now. 

Would Wednesday commit first-degree murder for them? Yes, but that's not the point. 

The point—what was the point? 

Wednesday internally huffs with annoyance. She's an articulate person, but lately, she isn't. 

Reluctantly, Wednesday's eyes trail to the side, where she sees her reason for inarticulation. 

"Ah, so this is why you're sitting in the courtyard today," Enid smiles innocently, but Wednesday can see the knowing look in her eyes and purses her lips in a scowl as her eyes return to her book. She's finally gotten her hands on Goody's spellbook, and she's been trying to finish reading it for weeks. 

But alas...she's been...distracted.

"I don't blame you," Enid sighs as she looks over to where Wednesday was just gazing. "Everyone's looking at our resident Faerie. I wish she'd sit at our table today."

Wednesday silently agrees but tells herself she didn't. But she did. It's been nearly a week since you've sat with their tiny group of weirdos. Heroes, but weirdos. 

Today, you're sitting with the fangs, and Wednesday just can't fathom why. She gets your little rotation schedule, but vampires were so overrated, and from the small conversations she's heard here and there—incredibly boring.

Who cares about their diet? Wednesday thinks they lack innovation if their only choices are humans or animals (because, quite frankly, another outcast could kick their ass).

Yet, you sit there, smiling serenely and nodding with genuine interest. You ask questions and laugh at their witless jokes, and it drives Wednesday crazy.

Wednesday doesn't understand your sense of humor. Although, no one understands Wednesday's sense of humor either. That's usually the pattern. Sometimes, it feels like you and she are two sides of the same coin. 

You're both very different at Nevermore. While you're both outcasts within the outcasts, it's not the same. Whereas Wednesday didn't understand people, and they didn't gravitate toward her, people seemed to argue for your time.

Hence, why you sat at a different lunch table every day. 

Wednesday's mind drifts as she frowns. There's little known about Faeries as they're usually recluses, and there are so few of them. Especially night faeries. 

But now, it makes her wonder. Are Faeries like sirens? Do they lure everyone in their proximity without choice? That would certainly make more sense on Wednesday, and it would explain her recent behavior. 

Wednesday frowns deeper. Principal Weems has already sternly told others that while the Faeries are extremely beautiful and charming, they have no such powers. 

So, Wednesday was at a loss. She was beginning to think this school was designed to be the bane of her existence. Unwillingly, her gaze drifted again, but this time, you turned your head simultaneously and caught her eye.

You smile soft and sincere but unobtrusively at her, and Wednesday looks away, her face impassive. 

It wasn't unusual. 

This was exactly how all her interactions with you went. Very often, no words are exchanged, but you smile and wave at her as you pass by in the hallways. You greet her warmly when you sit at their table or in class. 

"Your unhappy face is showing," Enid points out, a slight upward quirk on her lips as she bites into her sandwich.

"This is always my face," Wednesday deadpans. 

"No, it's not," Enid shakes her head confidently. If there's one thing Enid can say, she stares at Wednesday a lot, so she knows her roommate very well. "You tilt your chin down and glare through your eyebrows more than look through them. It's very protruding," Enid points directly at Wednesday's eyebrow and forehead. "See? Unhappy face."

Xavier is looking at her through his apple, using it to shield how he's holding back his laughter as he grins at her. 

Wednesday relaxes her brows, her eyes becoming less narrow before she raises her brow at Enid. "Then what face is this?" The werewolf ponders her roommate's face and then sighs like she's been chastised. 

"General distaste," Enid mutters, but then she brightens as she looks up. "Oh, Fae is coming over here!" 

"Why do you insist on calling her that when she has a name?" Wednesday asks. You never seem mad about it, and it's not like Wednesday would care if people walked around calling her witch instead of Wednesday, but it's another thing she doesn't understand.

"Hm," Enid hums. "I guess it just became a nickname when she came. I mean, I guess it's kind of weird to call someone by their creature name...should we try to come up with a new one for her?"

"Whatcha guys talking about?" You smile as you approach. You've got a grape lollipop in your mouth given to you by one of the shapeshifters. Xavier and Eugene move over so you can sit down, directly facing Wednesday. "Hi, Wednesday," you say her name so casually, staring at her until Wednesday nods in acknowledgment. 

She's tense as she grips the edge of her book tightly. Her eyes are steadfastly attached to the pages even if she's not reading them. 

"We're talking about how everyone started to call you Fae," Enid grins, her smile wide and excited, but then frowns. "I hope it doesn't bother you."

You hum for a long moment, a sound that Wednesday hangs onto. She can see you through her peripherals. You seem in deep thought, and Wednesday can't understand why it's taking you so long to decide whether it bothers you. She wants to tell you to hurry it up so she—they can have the answer.

"I supposed it started when one of the psychics saw me in person, and all he could stutter out was 'Fae' over and over," you shrug.

"Feeble-minded," Wednesday mutters, and you smirk at her, and now she's wondering what exactly that could mean. 

"It doesn't bother me," you continue on. "I mean, I guess it's fine since there are no other faeries at the school, but it might be confusing when there are. I can't exactly go around calling on a person wolfy when that could be any of the werewolves here."

They all nod, except Wednesday.

"We should try to find a new nickname for you!" Eugene exclaims, emboldened by your friendliness to him. "How about nightcrawler!"

"As enchanting as that is, I'm going to have to veto that one," you give him a wry smile. He slumps in defeat while Xavier gives in a pat on the back.

"Oh," Enid squeals excitedly, and Wednesday shirk and winces at the sound. "We could all try to find a new nickname for you until we get the right one!"

"And why should we if Fae says it doesn't bother her?" Xavier asks as he turns over and gives you what Wednesday believes he thinks is a boyish smile. 

"Spoken like a true simpleton," Wednesday cut in, still not looking up. "Will that be your new nickname?"

"Ouch," Xavier laughs, the insult falling off his back. Although, he doesn't doubt that's his contact name on Wednesday's phone. "Alright, I get it. Fine, the person who gets their nickname chosen gets Fae's number. How's that?" He looks over to you, and Wednesday snaps her head up, finally to look at you too. 

You seem pensive. Another thing Wednesday knows but doesn't understand. It's getting irritating with how many things are adding up that Wednesday wants to know now and can't. 

Nobody in the school has your number though they all see you on your phone as you stroll down the hallway. Wednesday has heard you turning people down when they ask for your number, citing how there've been too many requests, and the number of texts or calls you'd get would be too overwhelming. So, now it's been an unspoken rule between the school that no one gets your number if they cannot all have it. 

You peer over at Wednesday, and she doesn't flinch away from your gaze. She refuses to lose whatever staring game you've created.

"Okay," you acquiesce, staring at Wednesday for a moment longer before standing up. "I'll see you guys in class. I'm going to see if the shapeshifters have more grape lollipops. They're my favorite."

Grape lollipops are your favorite. Is it just the lollipop, or is it grape in general?

"Well, this should be fun," Enid bounces her seat before she looks at Eugene. "I'm going to have to say it's looking unlikely for you, bud."

"I have more ideas!" Eugene protests.

"Never accept defeat," Wednesday looks back at her book, inwardly frowning when she's still on the same page she's been trying to read for the last 20 minutes. "Would be an acceptable suggestion for me. Accept defeat in this case, Eugene."

There's more bickering at the table while Enid bumps her shoulder against Wednesday. "So? Are you going to try to come up with something and get Fae's number?" 

"No, it's a trivial matter. Why would I want it? The only time I ever use my phone is when you've dragged me into your 24/7 addiction and Xavier cries for my attention."

"I do NOT cry—"

"So, I have no need for it."

Plus, would you expect her to text you if she had your number? Would she even want to text you? Wednesday supposes it'd be an equal trade of information, so you'd have her number too. Should she expect you to text her?

Wednesday glances in her peripheral and sees you with another lollipop as you sit with the shapeshifters. You've got an apple in your hand, but you look at it blandly. 

Not a fan of apples, then?

Wednesday feels annoyance gnaw at her insides. It's not irregular for Wednesday to sometimes show interest in others. Knowing others is valuable information that can be used at a later date.

But why in the hell does it take so long to get to know someone? Why can't Wednesday just know all your deep, dark secrets first and then make her way out to the trivial things?

"What a shame," Enid sighs casually, looking straight ahead, but her eyes tilt to the side to stare at her gloomy roommate. "I think having a phone and texting is great! It's way faster to get to know someone over text since you can always be in communication. You know what else is a thing? At 2AM, people lower their guard down, and they're more likely to spill secrets."

Wednesday slams her book shut, standing up and leaving briskly.

Research is needed. Her father has few skills, but one of them is coming up with nicknames. That skill should undoubtedly pass on to her. 

Wednesday glances at you as she walks out of the courtyard. You look over at her and smile with a wave before turning back to your conversation.

Defeat is not in Wednesday's vocabulary. She will beat the constraints of time and know everything there is to know in haste. There will be victory, and it will be hers.

PART TWO

[eggymf-archived]

the art of persuasion;

ft. ominis gaunt x f!reader/mc (one-shot)

themes: revenge, cheating, 6th year, slytherin!reader/mc, dark!reader/mc, cheater!sebastian, implied dark!ominis, subinis (for now), one-sided pining, slytherins being slytherins

warnings: nsfw, pwp?, smut, toxic behavior, manipulation, no romance, blowjob, cowgirl, p in v

summary: you discover your boyfriend's illicit little escapades in the restricted section with another girl. you plan to destroy them both using a certain potion, and a willing volunteer. amongst the array of selections at your disposal for your plan, you had your eyes on one specific person – his own best friend.

word count: 4.3k

a/n: romance is dead and horny is alive. there’s a part 2 for this – don’t ask why. *sweats* (for some reason that sounded like a damn poem i–)

main masterlist || series masterlist || AO3 

It has been more than a month since the truth behind your nagging doubts and restless nights finally revealed itself. Like any other woman with a keen intuition especially towards their grimy, unfaithful lovers, you were unfortunately right about your suspicions towards your boyfriend of almost a year, Sebastian Sallow.

To say that you did not have the slightest idea that he'd do such a thing was a complete lie — sure you weren't an academic wonder, but you certainly weren't that daft.

Alana Crowley — a fellow 6th year student from Slytherin. A friendly, seemingly unproblematic young lady at first, until she decided to latch her claws onto your boyfriend, that is. She had been awfully clingy around Sebastian for the past two months, and that foul git of a lover had no qualms with her blatant display of her not-so-subtle forms of affection. In fact, he seems to thrive in the attention, much to your dismay.

You've seen the looks he had given her. You've felt the all-familiar sparks between them during their seemingly harmless interactions and stares. As the woman whom he loved first, you were aware of Sebastian’s irresistible ways of communicating with his eyes: his longing stares, the way it twinkles when a mere glance was spared towards him, and how its warmth enraptured the entirety of your being the moment he gazes upon you with raw adoration. 

He was doing the same tactics he had used in capturing your poor little naïve heart during one summer getaway after your 5th year. He might as well just slap you on the face for using the same tricks on another woman — it all hurts the same either way. But the fact that he had been doing all these scandals right under your nose however? Absolutely unforgivable.

What you hadn't expected was how you ended up finding out: witnessing him doing the deed with his little side piece in the Restricted Section. It was the day when the both of you had planned a study session together for your NEWTS with Ominis Gaunt, his best friend. Sebastian was uncharacteristically late, thus you and Ominis went looking for him, and unfortunately ended up stumbling upon the scene.

“Wait! Hngh–! What will you do if your girlfriend finds out— haaaah! A-about this?”

“She won't. She doesn’t even suspect a thing. Everything’s under control, lo— oh fuck!”

Those were the exact words both you and Ominis had heard as they engaged in their explicitly raunchy little act while you pathetically watched behind the bookshelves. Betrayal was a brutal weight, and it had clasped itself around your ankle within that moment, submerging you within the icy depths of bitter realization. 

You thought he’d be faithful to you like he had promised. Hell, the both of you went through that absolute shitstorm during your 5th year together. Surely that accounts for at least some form of loyalty and honesty about each other's feelings and intentions, right? But alas, he had broken that simple unspoken rule, and your trust towards him was no more.

While you were right to trust him with your secret regarding your unusual magical prowess, you've made a fatal mistake of entrusting your heart to his bloodied hands. Yet despite the gravity of the situation, no tears, hysterics, or even any form of hints were shown of how utterly devastated you truly were.

There was no way in hell that you, (Y/F/N), the famed wielder of ancient magic, would crumble over a mere cheating bastard who couldn’t keep his own filthy little flobberworm in his pants.

Perhaps Sebastian didn’t know you that well after all, because if he did, he wouldn't have dared to incur your anger the second time around. It was fair to say that you’d let him have a taste of his own ignorance and foolishness, and you weren't afraid of forgoing the brakes and letting your unbridled rage hit him like a Graphorn on a wild rampage.

Thus, here you were, currently standing in front of the potions station within the Room of Requirement. You’ve been keeping a watchful eye over the bubbling concoction that you had been secretly brewing for nearly a month.

Three measures of boomslang skin… One measure of bicorn horn… High temperature for twenty seconds… 

Upon stirring the thick, mud-like mixture, you quickly set your stirring utensil aside, letting the potion brew within the cauldron. There were two remaining pieces left in completing the little set-up that you've constructed out of your own pettiness, which consisted of this particular potion and a willing volunteer. 

For the most part, the former was complete. But the latter? That was an entirely different problem on its own, but you had your ways.

An echoing creak resounded throughout the magical space as the doors of the Room of Requirement swung open, revealing your fellow 6th year Slytherin friend with slicked back blonde hair, holding up his wand which was blinking red at the tip. The opal-eyed male sauntered towards you carefully, avoiding any possible objects he might collide against.

“Glad you made it, Ominis,” you welcomed. You gently grabbed his arm as you guided him towards the nearby chaise lounge. He sat comfortably at the rather cushy seat, a smile present on his face.

“I came here as soon as I got your owl, and I apologize for the delay too. Sebastian's been quite slippery as of late,” he sighed. You plopped down beside the male while a floating tea set poured you both a cup of tea, to which Ominis accepted with utmost gratitude.

“Not surprised,” you nonchalantly drawled as you savored your Earl Grey tea. “He doesn't loiter around his usual spots as of late. I wonder why.”

The pure nonchalance of your sarcasm caused a chuckle to arise from him before partaking in his own beverage. Your eyes trained towards his unseeing ones that seemed to have this knowing glimmer. With the countless vexations that both you and Sebastian had brought upon him during your 5th year, it was now Ominis' second nature to detect your devious little plans from a mile away, ready to reel you in whenever you got too far.

Which brings you to the oh-so-burning question that was living rent-free within your mind: why is he, out of all people, helping you?

Setting his teacup aside to the nearby side table, he reached for the inner pocket of his coat, grabbing a vial containing several strands of dark brown hair. 

“Managed to nick it off him this morning before he woke up. Thankfully he slept like a log,” he hummed. You grinned at him, levitating the vial to the nearby cabinet beside the potions station. Ominis leaned back against the backrest of the lounge with his legs in a figure four lock.

“Also, I believe we have pressing matters to discuss, (Y/N)?” his posh-toned query cuts through the momentary silence. “Surely you didn't invite me all the way to the Room of Requirement just to deliver several strands of hair.”

“Perceptive as always,” you smiled mirthlessly, eyes and tone getting slightly darker as your teacup floated off to the nearby table. “You’re right. We need to talk.”

“...Go on.”

“I’ll be frank with you. I’m not quite sure as to why you’d even agree to this little request of mine in the first place,” you admitted. “So kindly enlighten me, Ominis. You're far from the type who would engage in petty little acts of vengeance. Why exactly are you helping me?”

Ominis bit his lip, silently cursing within his head as he racked through his mind for a valid excuse. While he couldn't blame you for your cautiousness given that Sebastian himself was his closest friend, this was a topic that he had desperately avoided out of fear of rejection and for the sake of preserving his friendship with his oldest friend. That’s right — he was in love with you, and has always been eversince you’ve deemed yourself worthy of his trust.  

You’ve always had him wrapped around your pretty little finger even before he became aware of the butterflies. He loved you enough to forgo his own wants and needs of having you; to keep you close yet far enough so that he'd never be able to claim you for himself out of the bare minimum respect towards you and his best friend. He settled for your presence, pining hopelessly for the real thing, and he wasn't about to let his demons run rampant and ruin everything no matter how strong his urges were.

Or so he thought.

“A mere extension of my own good will towards a dear friend. Nothing more,” he answered stiffly with a trace of longingness evident within his misty orbs. This minute detail, however, doesn't go unnoticed by your sharp, calculating eyes. 

“Whether Sebastian's my best friend or not, infidelity is deplorable. Whatever acts of vengeance you have in mind is both warranted and well-deserved,” he added firmly.

You hummed in response, seemingly satisfied yet not entirely convinced with the purity of his intentions. Your eyes gazed upon him coyly, your lips curling upwards.

“Perhaps. But that's not your only reason now, is it?”

Ominis froze as you chuckled knowingly, an underlying dark tone present within your seemingly innocent display of amusement. His exhalation was slow, feeling your presence come nearer towards him. Much to his surprise, you pushed his leg that rested atop the other, lodging your knees in between his lower limbs. Dainty hands rested themselves gingerly upon his shoulders, your lips dangerously close to his ear.

“Surely you have your own motives, Ominis. You know what I’m brewing, yet here you are, giving into my little whims…” you trailed off with a hint of smugness in your whisper. His heart hammered at the featherlight touch that trailed itself along his prominent jaw.

“Now, let me word my question differently this time. What exactly do you hope to get from all of this?”

The sudden calloused allure of your tone caused the blonde-haired lad's breath to hitch. He gulped, breathing slowly and deeply to calm the raging tempo within his chest. His lips remained pursed — this was obviously not a good time for a romantic confession, and silence was the best option if he wished to keep his pesky little feelings under wraps. 

The madness within him was less noble with its intentions, however. It was a perfect opportunity to whisk you away at your most vulnerable emotional state — to steal you from Sebastian after that unsavory stunt that he had pulled. He’d do anything to have you. Anything. But alas, the demon itself was constrained by the chains of his strong morals, never to see the light of day.

Unfortunately, you were a lot more quick-witted than he thought, capable of putting two and two together: the way he’d comply to all your requests, how he instantly comes to your rescue, his willingness to put up with this ridiculous plan, the rosy hue that was slowly creeping up his pale complexion — all of it finally made sense.

“You like me, don't you?” 

His silence was more than enough, and the frown that was once on your pretty face morphed into a satisfied smirk. You leaned back, letting your eyes feast on his flustered state. A devious improvised plan formulated itself within your head and a sultry giggle escaped your lips. 

His thin lips were soon parted by your thumb. The said digit invaded his cavern, to which he welcomed by lightly grazing his tongue against your skin. He yelped as you gripped his chin harshly with your thumb hooked within his mouth, forcing him to look up while you gazed down upon his face with cold (E/C) eyes.

“Well?” you teasingly whispered, the pad of your thumb smearing his own saliva onto his lips as you await his answer. “Do you?”

“... Yes… Yes, I do,” he rasps, his morals finally consumed by the wildfire of his own desires.

“Good.”

And just like that, he fell right into your trap.

You gently lowered yourself onto Ominis’ lap, straddling him while your lips claimed his into a searing kiss. The opal-eyed man softly whined, dragging his palms along your thinly-clothed thighs before resting his hands on your derriere. A delightful purr erupted from your throat before biting on his lip as he snuck his fingertips under the thin layer of your knickers, giving the soft flesh a firm squeeze.

Feeling your lungs burn for air, the both of you parted, gasping and heaving. Your (E/C) orbs were hazy, clouded with both carnal desire and smugness. The way your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's best friend looked so helplessly eager to give his entirety to you gave you a dizzying rush of prideful feminine arrogance.  

You sat upright while his hands drifted to your waist with evident impatience. Your clothed slit was now aligned right onto the stiff tent on his trousers. A breathy, euphoric moan escaped his lips, throwing back his head slightly as he was reduced into a shuddering mess. God, you were so warm — to think that he was feeling it through layers of clothing was downright maddening. The throbbing ache within his trousers was growing unbearable, and he wanted nothing but to relieve himself from this sinful agony. 

He has waited for so long. He has fantasized about you during his lonely nights, spread out and his for the taking — without Sebastian in the equation. He'd love nothing more than for you to strip him bare and do as you please with his body. The mere notion was enough for his stiff erection to twitch within its confines, leaking droplets of liquid desire.

Your lips curled into a gleefully sinister smirk. It was akin to witnessing a valuable gift unwrap itself; a revelation of how atrociously needy Ominis Gaunt gets once the correct buttons were pushed. 

“I think it's only fair if I give you a little taste of what you want, no?” you chuckled. A quiver raked through his lithe frame upon feeling the thin skin of your lips tracing itself along his prominent jawline. 

“Ah…!” he gasps with unbridled delight at the delicious suction against the delicate skin of his neck. Merlin, he never expected you to be this bold. A giggle erupted from your cherry red lips, drinking in the scrumptious sight of his flustered state. 

Oh, you were going to have fun with him for sure. 

He felt his legs part as you slid in between them, metal faintly clinking as deft fingers began to unbuckle his belt. His heart pounded against his chest, taking a gulp to soothe his now parched throat. His shaky fingers wandered to his vest, unbuttoning the garment while you palmed his stiff appendage through his underwear, kissing the weeping tip through the cotton thin fabric. 

His pleasure-induced whimpers successfully stroked your ego, and you allowed yourself to indulge deeper within this abysmal erotomania. Your hands creeped up along your own legs as you stood up, brunching your skirt all the way up until you reached your own lacy undergarments. 

While stripping the flimsy article off your being, you relished in the sight of the opal-eyed male loosening his own necktie and shortly unbuttoning his white shirt. You bit your lip upon witnessing his bareness: his soft, alabaster skin teasingly peeking through the undone clothing. 

God, he's beautiful.

"Hmm. Keep those on," you sighed breathily before he could take the articles of clothing off his frame. Ominis smirked lightly at this, putting his hands up as he laid back on the backrest of the chaise lounge. You knelt before him once more, slipping both his trousers and undergarments off him at the same time. He hissed at the sudden cold air nipping against his heated skin while you purred in delight, nuzzling your face filthily against the thick, leaky appendage.

"Please, (Y/N)..." he whimpered as you traced the tip of your tongue lightly against a thick vein at the underside of his shaft, clear globs of precum leaking from the tip at your teasing ministrations. The slick muscle eventually wandered towards his blunt tip, and a hiss of unadulterated pleasure escaped his bitten red lips as his fingers ran through your (H/C) locks; all in hopes of grounding himself from this euphoric high.

"Yes... That's it...! Darling— Oh, fuck...!" he groaned through gritted teeth as his fleshy head was enveloped within the warmth of your mouth. The pleasant vibrations from your moan further stimulates his already sensitive, twitchy organ. The flat of your tongue moved at every suction, resulting in every possible form of salacious sound being torn from his mouth with little to no mercy. 

He writhed at all the sensations that engulfed his senses; his pale, veiny fingers intertwined with strands of your (H/C) hair while his other hand gripped the armrest of his seat. Fire scorched him from within his loins while his toes curled, his brain in a state of mush and primal frenzy.  

Your own slender fingers wandered towards your own weeping hole, running the pads of your fingertips along your own heated flesh. Your mind was beginning to blank out as you began to take in his increasingly heady scent, audibly gurgling as he pushed your head deeper to accommodate his entire length.

He gasped, heaving a lungful of air as the blunt tip mercilessly hit the back of your throat. All you could do was to acquiesce to his desires as he brutally bobbed your head up and down his stiff erection. Your scalped burned delightfully at his iron grip on your hair, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. 

“I’m close… So fucking close…!” he groaned. His pace quickened, bucking his hips up this time, your throat instinctively tightening up at the repetitive intrusion. The sound of gurgles and squelches turned increasingly audible as he bucked his hips up wildly with his mouth hung slightly ajar.

A salty taste soon engulfed your senses, spurts of his hot seed flooding your abused mouth. He let out a shuddering groan at the suction as he was milked dry by your mouth. You pulled your head away with a pop before swallowing his essence, licking the sides of your lips to clean up any remaining traces.

Before he could even come to his senses, he felt your lips on his once more, instantly snaking your tongue into his hot cavern. He whines, tasting himself whilst running his slick appendage against yours. His head was still spinning from his release, his sightless eyes in a daze as he inhaled through his nose, taking in your addictive scent as much as he could. As soon as your lips unlatched itself from his, he let out a soft, needy whine, to which you responded with a giggle.

“Lay down,” you instructed softly, and he complied, letting you hover over his willing body. 

Tracing your fingertips along the center of his frame, you pushed the layers of clothing aside, revealing the expanse of his smooth pale skin — he was truly a work of art, rivaling that of marble statues. He hissed as your leaking hole descended dangerously close to his shaft, which was pulsating with anticipation as it felt the warm droplets of your essence drip upon it. 

Without a warning, you pressed your soaked core directly against his member. As soon as you began rocking your hips, Ominis absolutely lost the remaining traces of his sanity, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped before gasping for air. Your warm slick coated his now throbbing member, and the intimately lewd sensation effectively fried the remainder of his rationality. A loud groan rumbled from his chest upon placing your hole against the tip, moving your hips in a circular motion. 

Fuck, he was so close to entering you.

He wants to be inside you. No, he needs to be inside you right now.

“Ah-ah-ah,” you teased disapprovingly as Ominis tried to slide his member within your aching core. You pressed down harder against his twitching shaft, earning a pleasured whimper from him in response. 

“I didn't say we could go all the way, love,” you grinned, a hint of malicious amusement present within your eyes. “But with how desperately needy you are right now, perhaps you should… Convince me.”

He groaned impatiently, the pads of his fingertips sinking onto your fleshy thighs. He shifted under your weight pathetically, his nether regions craving for the deliciously warm friction against your slicked lower lips — the addictive sensation that you had cruelly deprived him from all of a sudden. You remained still, letting out a mirthless chuckle.

Dainty fingers wrapped around his neck, followed by a slow, open-mouthed kiss at the side of his lips. Shifting yourself slightly, you reached for his stiff erection, guiding the tip to your drenched hole. The fleshy tip merely prodded your entrance, never going past the head, much to Ominis' sheer agony. 

“F-fuck… (Y/N), please!”

Oh, you loved the sound of that: the way he begs and grovels like an animal in heat just to engulf himself within your warmth — truly a boost to your already inflated ego.

“Please, what?” 

“Please let me have you… Fuck, I need you so badly right now...”

His eyes widened at the painfully slow, inching intrusion; his eyes glassy with wanton tears. There was a raging urge within him to just snap his hips up, but he dared not to cross you — he was taking no risk in ruining everything, not when he's so close to obtaining his filthiest desire of finally becoming one with you. With one hand, you removed your necktie, your eyes never leaving his vulnerable, quivering form.

“How badly do you need it, love?” you asked mockingly while he let out a shuddering gasp; your warm juices slowly trickled down his shaft, pooling at its base.

“So fucking bad… I'll do anything. Please…” he whimpered.

A smug, menacing grin broke out of your lips.

“... Anything?” you repeated.

“Anything. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Good boy.”

The wind was knocked out of his lungs the moment you descended on him, your walls fluttering around his thick, twitchy appendage. You bit your lip as you began unbuttoning your shirt while gyrating your hips, much to his sinful delight. Blood was rushing to your head, trapping you within a dizzying frenzy of lust and desire, only to be fueled further when his hands gripped your bare waist, guiding you along his shaft.

You felt so full, and he was prodding and brushing at all the right places, making your eyes roll back at every slam of your hips upon his. Your juices were dripping everywhere, and the sounds of filthy squelches and wet slaps of skin filled the room along with the shaky, breathless little moans that escaped your sweet lips. Ominis panted, snapping his hips up occasionally in hopes of drawing out a more feral response from you, to which he was successful. 

You were a wreck — disheveled, legs quivering, covered in a sheen of sweat, inner thighs drenched solely with your own juices, and a drunken grin on your face while you rubbed your sensitive little pearl.

“Fuck— R-right there!” you cried out as he brushed against a spongy spot that made your thighs shake, your domineering façade slowly disintegrating. Every thrust from him had you choking on air with how rough he slams his hips, reducing you into nothing but a moaning mess.

This was genuinely one of the few instances where Ominis is upset about his lack of sight. All he ever wanted was to see you unravel before him — to look into his eyes pleadingly, writhe in pleasure as he brought waves upon waves of pleasure on your submissively sensitive body, and to present yourself to him in every debauched position possible before he fucks you into oblivion. 

Oh, the extent he would go to just to even catch a glimpse of you, especially when you're bare — he'd worship the ground you walked on, and treat you like you were the most prized person within the entire world with no questions asked.

He'd do anything for you. Anything.

“Fuck, I'm close…!” you mewled, feeling your walls slightly spasming around his cock, causing the male to hiss at the velvety grip of your core. Your thighs began to tremble, and you heaved as you began to move faster, chasing your high. 

“Cum for me, darling. Oh fuck, you're amazing,” he pants, his mind in a drunken haze.

He pulled you into his arms, thrusting his hips wildly while breathing in your heady scent as if it's the last time he'll ever inhale a lungful of air. An airy, shuddering moan tickled his ear, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine. Your walls had finally convulsed around him, and you felt spurts of his warm cum flood your long awaiting pussy. 

A sharp exhale escaped his dried mouth as you shakily let your worn-out body lay on top of him. He was still inside you, but the growing soreness in your thighs was preventing you from moving. Your heart was still hammering in your chest while your limbs felt like jelly, the exhaustion evident within your body. Ominis hadn't moved a single muscle either, his mind wandering into places, deep in thought. 

As soon as you attempted to get off him, however, his arm snaked around your waist, holding you in place. You glanced at him with tired, confused eyes.

“...Stay,” he whispers, his embrace tightening around you as if you'll disappear from his grasp anytime. The underlying neediness within his tone caused you to give into his harmless request, sinking back into the warmth of his embrace.

“...Okay.”

You nuzzled in his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat with a sigh of comfort. A serene smile was present on your face as you relaxed, slowly getting lulled into a well-deserved nap in the comfort of his arms.

Willing volunteer? Check.

part 2: all’s fair in love and war >

[turtletaubwrites]

I Knew You'd Be Perfect ~ Part 6

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader (Don't worry, Zoro will be back!)

Word Count: 4,176

This is part 6 of the Series 'We've All Got Needs,' linked below:

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Series Link

Summary: Your secret is becoming less secret every day, and you discuss your arrangement with a certain cook.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Fem!Reader, 18+ Only, MDNI, Reader-Insert, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Flirting, Alcohol, Body Worship, Cunnilingus, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Panty Kink, Swearing, Casual Sex, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Condoms, Aftercare, Shameless Smut, Friends With Benefits, Crewmates with Benefits, Relationship Discussions, Light Angst, Fluff, Large Cock, Friendship, Cigarettes, Cigarettes are bad y'all, but it's Sanji

A/N: I wrote another long one, but I hope you enjoy it! We've got some more crew interactions, some angst, some fluff, and some SMUT!

Another awkward breakfast. You’d thought about asking to have it in your room, but you weren’t ready for the thought of Sanji bringing you breakfast in bed. 

While you were getting ready you had to jump, and shake your arms around to try to get your buzzing energy out.

Now at the table you focused on your plate, and gratefully chatted with Chopper about the best plants to use to reduce fevers.

“Oh, so you really did have a fever, Y/N?”

“Huh?”

You looked up at Luffy who still had bacon hanging out of his mouth.

“Why your face has been so red lately?”

You felt your face burn as the crew stared at you again. 

“No, uh. I’m all good, Luffy.”

Luffy scrunched his face at you, but Nami shoved another piece of bacon in his mouth before he could say anything else.

You smiled gratefully at her, but caught her eyes flicking toward Zoro as he let out a cough. She gave you a tight lipped smile, but it seemed dull, her brows tensing slightly.

Losing your appetite again, you slid your plate toward your eager captain.

You ignored everyone, no matter how eager they seemed to grab your attention. Instead, you followed your orange haired friend out onto the deck, heading toward the tangerine trees. 

“Hey, Nami?”

She rounded on you, and her hurt eyes stopped your breath. She kept her voice low, and you mirrored her as she sat, leaning against the wooden planter. 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“N-No, Nami-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You leaned toward her, scared, and touched by her emotions. 

“I’m so sorry, Nami. I-”

“Tell me now, Y/N.”

Ice crept down your throat as you shared the drama of your recent days. Nami’s face didn’t change much, except for the crease between her eyebrows getting deeper the more you spoke. 

Catching her up to today, you held your breath again. Tears pricked in your eyes. You were terrified that this arrangement of yours had already ruined things. 

Nami cleared her throat, and looked across the deck to the gentle waves. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Her voice was soft and hurt, and you hated yourself. 

“I’m so sorry. I was afraid that you’d ju- I was afraid I’d lose you as a friend.”

Nami scoffed, rolling her eyes. 

“Well, I’m still new to this whole ‘friend’ thing,” she said, leaning toward you with air quotes. “But I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to hide huge things like this from each other.”

Shame sank over you, and you gazed at the ground before meeting her eyes again. 

“It also fucking hurts that you think I’d judge you over something like this. I thought you knew me better by now.”

You bit your lip hard, a couple hot tears spilling over. You hurried to wipe them away, and took a strained breath. 

“You’re right, Nami. I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you. I fucked up.”

Nami narrowed her eyes at you as she leaned back against the wood, crossing her arms. 

“So,” she looked up, sucking her teeth. “How is that green headed idiot?”

Your breath came out in a gasping laugh, and she smiled as she shook her head. 

“I forgive you, dumbass. And now I need to know everything, this is fucking hilarious.”

You could barely speak through more choking laughs, and Nami’s hard punch to your arm made you feel so much relief.

We really are a family. 

The rest of the morning was spent huddled and giggling with Nami, and it was the most fun you’d had in a long time. Especially when the boys took turns on deck, Sanji for a smoke, and Zoro for a workout. You glared at Nami as she started to tease them, you hadn’t discussed telling anyone else. She stuck her tongue out at you, and all you could do was groan, your whole body flushing red. 

“Sooo, are you gonna bang the cook now,” Nami whispered, making your pulse race since Sanji was still on deck putting out his cigarette.

“I, maybe! He has to be on board with the arrangeme-”

“Oh, green guy was right, Sanji will be down for anything.”

You scrunched up your lips, trying not to laugh. 

“Well, we still have to have the talk first.”

“Ooookay. Well, I can’t wait to hear what he’s like in bed. He’s gotta be either the best lover in the world, or the most pathetic, slobbering mess.”

You choked on your spit again, glancing over your shoulder, grateful that Sanji had gone back inside.

“You’re the worst!”

“Oh, I’m just getting started!”

You poked at each other, Nami’s insults making you cry with laughter until Sanji stuck his head back out. 

“Lunch is ready, lovelies! Would you like me to bring it to you out here?”

Nami joined you as you groaned from sitting on the wood too long. 

“We’re coming!”

You felt so light as you sat with your crew for lunch. Robin and Nami grinned at you, and Usopp, Chopper and Luffy might stay clueless forever. Well, maybe not Usopp. 

You noticed Zoro was looking down at his plate more than usual, and you felt a twinge of concern for him.

He promised me he thought it through, and that he’s on board with this. I can’t be responsible for all his feelings. He can tell me what he needs. 

You released a breath, and Nami nudged you, raising her brows.

Sticking your tongue out at her, you caught Sanji staring at your mouth. You hid your face behind your glass as you took a sip, trying desperately to ignore Nami poking your thigh under the table. 

The crew slowly trickled out, but you caught Zoro’s eyes before he left. He clenched his jaw, but gave you a quick nod before brooding his way out the door. 

Sitting back down, you focused on how you felt, how your body was handling all of this. Your chest had been so tight with anxiety lately, but you let it drip away. You smiled as Sanji joined you at the table, his own meal in hand. 

“Would you like anything else, dear? Anything to drink?”

“No, Sanji. I’m fine, thank you. Please eat.”

His crooked smile made you blush, and you grinned into your half empty glass. 

You let out some tuneless hums as you stared at the table, fighting the awkward feelings building up around you.

Sanji pushed his plate aside, lighting a cigarette before clearing his throat softly. 

“Is there something you’d like to talk about, angel?”

Shivering, you bit your lip before meeting his eyes. His gaze was still trained on your mouth, and you watched his breath hitch as you released your lip from your teeth. 

Fuck, just the way he looks at me… 

“I’d, uh… Like to talk to you about my arrangement.”

Sanji’s eyes went sharp, but he leaned toward you slowly. 

“And what arrangement is that?”

His words came out in a low rasp, and you had to grip your thighs to stay steady. 

“I have an arrangement with Zoro. We’ve decided to be crewmates with benefits, and to help each other out with certain, um, urges.”

You couldn’t decipher the dark look in Sanji’s eyes, but you pressed on. 

“We have agreed that romantic relationships with crewmates could endanger our place in the crew, shift our dynamics and motivations too much. So we’ve chosen to have this casual arrangement, and agreed that either party can see or sleep with whoever else they want.”

You watched Sanji’s hand clench hard on the table, but you kept going. 

“Part of that agreement includes that we have to communicate our needs and feelings to each other, and share if things are hurting or going too far.”

Sanji stared at you, and you wanted to shrink under his intense glare.

“I, uh. I’m here to ask if you’d like to join that arrangement with me?”

Sanji looked like he was about to fucking eat you. Your heart rate sped up as you waited for him to speak, or breathe. 

“I-It’s okay if you’re not alright with-”

“I’m alright with it.”

Your breath hitched as he choked those words out, and you fought the smirk that tried to form on your lips as you remembered Zoro and Nami’s bets. 

“How about… How about you think on it for a bit, and I’ll talk to you after dinner?”

Sanji’s mouth fell open, and you had to look away to keep your head straight. 

“Please think about this Sanji. It’s really important to me that whatever we do doesn’t jeopardize our place here. Can you promise me that you’ll really think about if you can do this?”

Sanji swallowed, his throat bobbing as he fought to meet your eyes. 

“I promise, sweetheart. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Sanji’s strained words seemed to echo through your mind as you went back to your room. 

Fuck, I was supposed to make that rosemary oil for Nami and Chopper yesterday. Well, I can’t go back to the kitchen now. 

Another day of absolutely zero work being done because of the fucking boy drama in your life. You wanted to feel frustrated, but all you could think about was the two of them, and their hands and lips on you. 

You’d never felt this kind of drive before. You wanted to rest, catch up on missed sleep, but your mind could only play out the possibilities of what after dinner might bring. 

You caught yourself aching to know how Sanji could make you feel, and felt half terrified thinking about the way Zoro would use you if Sanji joined your arrangement. He’s going to punish me so fucking good for this. 

You brought yourself, still feeling breathless and overwhelmed. You hopped in the shower before dinner, and caught Zoro scowling at your still damp hair when you sat at the table. 

Hardly hearing a word through the meal, your skin felt like it was on fire. Zoro didn’t look back as he left, and you shook off the responsibility for that grown man’s decisions. 

Everyone else was gone, and Sanji’s flirting words rolled over you. 

“I’m going to have a glass of whisky, would you like something to drink, my dear?”

“Whisky sounds perfect, thank you.”

Sanji brought over two amber glasses, each with a large hunk of ice, an orange peel, and a dark black cherry on a spear.

“Can’t do anything half ass, can you?”

“Why would I wish to, angel? I find a full ass to be much more enjoyable.”

Luckily you hadn’t taken your sip yet, because you choked as he winked and laughed. You couldn’t even respond to that, but you tapped your glasses, and took a sip of that beautiful drink. 

A satisfied hum left you with that sweet, strong burn. You opened your eyes, and noticed his soft smile while you enjoyed what he’d made for you. 

“It’s delicious, Sanji. Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

Glancing down, you swirled the ice around your glass. 

“I’ve thought about your arrangement.”

Meeting his eyes, your breath caught as you waited for him to continue. 

“I find it to be an intelligent and practical decision, and I agree to your terms.”

Your eyes widened as his smile grew.

“If you’ll have me, of course.”

Biting your lip, you caught yourself feeling fucking giddy. You raised your glasses and drank to his words. 

“I’ll have you, Sanji.”

He was on you in an instant. 

He pulled you up into his arms, his lips taking yours as he grabbed your thighs. 

Desperate noises left your throat as your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N, so soft. I feel like I’m touching an angel.”

Sanji’s whispers tingled across your neck as he left soft kisses along your skin. 

Your arms clung around his shoulders while you kissed his jaw, and he groaned while you tasted his skin. He carried you easily like that, even letting his hands off your thighs so he could move the drinks. 

Sanji set you on the table so gently, then started caressing your upper body with hands and lips and tongue. 

You cried out at the soft touches, his fingers teasing into the hair at the back of your neck while his tongue trailed up your throat, your jaw, your ear. Shivering, you felt what had to be a piercing tickling along with his tongue.

A moan escaped you, and Sanji twitched under your own exploring hands. 

“Mm, your touch is heavenly, Y/N. Please, let me give you more. Let me make more sweet sounds come from those lips.”

He kissed you softly, tongue tasting before he looked at you, eyes gone nearly black from need. Sanji’s attention had always made you feel spoiled, and you were ready to see how else he could spoil you. 

“Yes, please.”

His lips met yours again as he breathed out a moan, and it made your back arch. His need was making your skin hot. His fingers and tongue trailed along every inch of your body before taking the next step. You were twitching and gasping before he’d even undressed you.

When Sanji’s gifted hands pulled your clothes from you, the act seemed almost ritualistic. Each movement was slow, and the drag of fingers and fabric along your skin sent chills across your body. With each item of clothing he removed, Sanji seemed to fall even further into his trance. You gasped, clinging to him as he took your breasts into his skilled hands and mouth. The swirl of his tongue ring against your nipples had wetness pooling between your legs. 

Sanji finally made it that far, after staring at you for a minute in the lace panties you’d donned for him. Leaning back on your elbows, you enjoyed the desperate look on his face while he pulled that scrap of fabric down your body, strands of your wetness pulling along with it. Sanji’s body thrust forward at the sight, like he couldn’t control himself. That thought sent your heart racing, your body reacting even more, readying for him. 

Sanji lifted your panties to his face, rubbing it along his skin, as he breathed in the scent of the wet fabric. The unexpected act made your body clench for him, your breath coming out staggered as you waited, needing him. 

“Could I ask this charming lady for a gift?”

Sanji’s teasing smile while he motioned with your panties in his grasp made your eyes roll back. 

“Y-Yes.”

Sanji gave a satisfied growl, and you opened your eyes in time to watch him take his shirt off. 

Your mouth fell open. It was rare to see Sanji out of a suit, if ever, and his body was incredible. 

His crooked smile at your reaction fell as he gazed at the part of you he’d just revealed. You spread your thighs for him, and moaned as his powerful knees seemed to weaken. 

“Y/N, you are… You are stunning.”

His words came out breathless, and you were aching for him to touch you.

“Please, Sanji. Please touch me.”

His groan was so satisfying, but you needed him now. 

“I could never refuse such a beauty.”

Now you almost rolled your eyes, letting out a small whine. 

Sanji touched you with reverence, his deft fingers playing and teasing along your folds. 

“Your pussy is so beautiful, darling. Like a dream.”

His last word was hummed against you as his mouth tasted your clit. 

Crying out, you arched against the table while Sanji’s lips kissed that sensitive bundle of nerves, then you moaned his name as his tongue, and its wonderful ring teased circles along it. 

“Gods, Y/N, you taste divine. Please, let me hear my name on your lips again. Let me serve you.”

Sanji followed those words by returning his tongue to your center, and plunging one of his strong fingers into your folds, curling it within you. 

“Sanji, oh fuck. Sanji, that feels so good.”

He moaned against your core at your praise, and it vibrated through you, adding to the sensations he’d showered you with. 

He’d barely added a second finger before you came on his tongue, his satisfied hums just building it as your body shook for him. 

Panting against the table, you looked down at his beaming face, glistening with your pleasure. 

“That was incredible, my love. Please let me make you dance for me again. I could die hearing you sing like that.”

You couldn’t help the choked laugh that left you then, especially as you were still relearning how to breathe. 

“Please don’t die, Sanji. I’d love to keep dancing with you.”

Sanji trailed his hands back along your body, fingertips teasing along your sides, and circling your breasts while you squirmed. 

“Such a perfect body,” he whispered, as if he was talking to himself. 

Sanji’s expression sent chills along your skin. He brought his fingers back where you needed him, one hand toying with your clit, while the other sent two fingers inside. 

“I’d like to see more of your body too, Sanji.”

He groaned at your purr, but kept on with his task.

Sanji added a third finger, and you tensed, getting used to the pressure. You’d moaned a questioning sound toward him, and his voice got low. 

“Breathe, angel, you’re taking my fingers so well. I’m going to take good care of you.”

You cried out at his promise, feeling a twinge of danger behind his words. 

“So wet for me, so perfect…”

Sanji’s eyes looked starved as he stared down at his work, his three fingers stretching and testing you. 

You fought not to squirm under his gaze, breathing slow as his fingers sunk deep within you. 

“So beautiful…”

Your eyes rolled back, and he groaned while you gasped for him. He leaned over you, breathing his next words across your breasts.

“Darling, please let me see how you pleasure yourself. Let me see what you’ll do in bed when you think of me.”

Crying out, you reached for yourself, gasping as he removed his fingers from you. You were dripping for him, your body begging him to keep going. The look on his face when you started playing with your clit made you moan, then you shuddered as he forced his eyes to meet yours. 

Sanji undid his pants, removing them slowly, and already, your breath hitched. The corner of his lip twitched before he removed his briefs, and your lips parted. 

Sanji wasn’t as long as Zoro, but he was wider than you’d ever seen. That amount of girth made you gulp, your eyes widening. You had no idea how that was going to feel. Sanji’s raspy voice brought you back to his dark eyes. 

“I knew when I heard you with him. I knew you could take me.”

You gasped as his fingers trailed along your thigh, looking at you like you were something to eat. 

“I knew you’d be perfect.”

Shivering, you moaned as you watched Sanji drag a condom over his thick, swollen cock. He brought out a bottle of lube, and fisted some over himself, moaning as he stared at you. 

He leaned over your ear, his whisper teasing through you. 

“Don’t worry, darling. I know you'll be so good for me. You’ll fit my cock in your beautiful pussy, won’t you, my sweet?”

You’d forgotten to keep touching yourself, and Sanji moved your hand away. He trailed his hands along your body again, and you were almost shaking from anticipation. 

“Breathe for me, beautiful. Show me you can take it. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

Moaning, you nodded, and hung onto the table.

Tracing along your entrance, Sanji lightly slapped his heavy dick against your clit as you cried out. 

“Such a pretty pussy, darling. Are you ready?”

A desperate whine left you as you nodded again. 

You felt the tip of him push in, already a feeling of fullness.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect, Y/N. You’re doing so well, baby. Breathe for me.”

You tried to listen as Sanji pushed himself in, so slowly. It stung even with the lube, but it felt so good to feel that full, that stretched.

Your body was already clenching around him.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re even better than I dreamed,” he groaned, twitching as he kept pushing. 

“I can feel you, taking my cock so well angel, you’re doing such a good job.”

You cried out, and he reached his hand to your face, his fingers playing along your lips. 

“We’re almost there sweetheart. Suck on me, show me how fucking good you are, darling.”

Your pussy clenched around him even harder, making you both cry out. You sucked his fingers, eyes watering until he was fully hilted within you. The stinging was overpowered by the pleasure, and you felt how close you were just from him being inside you like this. 

“Mm, so perfect, taking my cock. Gods, your pussy is so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Let me show you how you make me feel.”

You whimpered around his fingers as Sanji’s slow thrusts built up. Drool and tears dripped from you as you whined from pain and pleasure. 

Then you were screaming, his hand moving to cover your lips. You panted desperate breaths as you came around him. He was so fucking thick inside you, the sensation of your pussy milking all that girth was driving you mad. 

Sanji kept thrusting into you, then played with your clit while you cried for him. 

“Almost there, gorgeous. You can take one more for me, can’t you?” 

You whined, but nodded for him, fucking lost to sensation. 

“You’re so perfect for me, angel. Fuck, I knew your pussy could take me. It’s everything I needed, sweetheart.”

Sanji’s soft voice felt just as overpowering as his body inside you, and all you could do was whine and shake beneath him as he showered you in praise. 

“Just like that, Y/N. I can feel you close, can you feel me, darling?”

“You’re doing so well. Oh, I’m gonna take such good care of you, you and your perfect pussy. Come for me again, I know you can.”

“Fuck yes, ooh beautiful do you feel me? Let go now, love. Come for me, angel. Just like tha- fuuuck…”

Sanji almost sobbed with his moan, and the feeling of his thick cock pulsing in you while he came was overwhelming. Your back arched even further as he held you, as he kept you from leaving your body.

He peppered your chest and stomach with kisses, laying against your breasts, moving so your nipples trailed along his face and his eyes rolled back again.

You could feel your body already starting to ache now. He pulled himself away, so gently, holding his cock steady as he did.

The sight made you clench before he was all the way out, and he moaned so loud, it made your eyes roll back. The way he reacted to everything you did, everything about you, it was intoxicating.

But you were sore. Empty and aching.

“Hold on, beautiful. Just a moment.”

Sanji took a damp towel, and cleaned you gently before wrapping you in his suit jacket and lifting you off the table.

He sat against the wall, and held you in his arms. You were half dead while he touched your cheek.

“You are incredible, my sweet. Perfect.”

All you could do was give him a lazy grin, which made him chuckle and kiss your forehead.

“I know you must rest tonight, but please let me know when I can serve you again, darling. I have so many more pleasures I'd love to shower you with.”

Your back arched in his arms, and he looked almost manic as he watched you moan at his promise.

“Mm, your body already wants more, doesn’t it? I’m happy to fulfill all your needs, beautiful.”

Sanji kissed along your neck, sending shivers and shockwaves through you.

“Can I make you something? Run you a bath? Or-”

You stopped him with a giggle, your body still weak in his arms.

“Just stay with me for a while. I don’t think I can walk yet after you fucked me like that.”

You grinned as Sanji moaned. His need was so hilariously, and temptingly intense. 

He covered your hair and face with kisses, until you were giggling, begging him to stop. 

Sanji stayed with you until you could move, gently massaging your shoulders and legs, before helping you dress yourself. 

“I can carry you to your room.”

“Thank you, Sanji. I’ll be fine. Thank you for a lovely evening.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” he whispered, bringing your hand to his lips, leaving a soft kiss along your knuckles. 

With chills along your skin, you crept out of the kitchen. 

Looking around the darkened hallway, you swore you’d heard someone stepping quietly away. 

Fuck.

Thank you for reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Part 7

Tag List: @astheni-a

A/N: Don't worry y'all! We'll see more of the swordsman in the next part 💚 but let me know what you think about the cook! 👨🏼‍🍳

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

[spiteless-xo]

╰┈➤ the boys at work. [completed] ⋙ You're in love with your best friend, but he's still hung on up his ex-girlfriend, so you start sleeping with his former best friend to make him jealous. The four of you work together at one of the city's most prestigious professional services companies and you're struggling so much with the workload that you're worried you might get fired. Can you successfully juggle all these relationships and your career, or will you burn out and lose it all?

ft. eren/reader, jean/reader, minor pieck/jean cw. explicit content - minors do not interact, fem!reader, smut, alternate universe - college/university, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, oral sex, dubious consent, multiple orgasms, multiple partners, multiple sex positions, cum swallowing, blow jobs, cumplay, creampie, ass play, mention of canonical character death, porn with plot, dirty talk, friends with benefits, friends to lovers, mental health issues, love triangles, pining, slow burn, panic attacks, it gets worse before it gets better, angst and hurt/comfort, jealousy, no use of y/n, second person POV an. all of these links will take you to their AO3 page. there are content warnings at the beginning of every chapter. this is loosely a sequel to the boys at school, but it can be read as a standalone series and you won't be missing out. the reader of this story is a different person than the reader from the first series. i might not update this masterlist regularly but new chapters are posted every tuesday on AO3. warning that some of the chapter summaries may contain spoilers.

“I still think this is a stupid fucking plan,” Eren says, “I think you’re better off moving on to someone else than trying to get Jean fucking Kirstein to fall in love with you.”

“Like who?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“Someone like you?”

“At least I’m not an asshole,” he scoffs. “And I fuck you good. You’d be better off with me than with him.”

“I thought you didn’t do relationships.”

“I don’t,” Eren looks over at you with pursed lips. “I’d break your heart.”

“Hmm, tempting, but I think I’ll stick with Jean.”

“He’ll break it too,” he says. “Maybe even worse than me.”

01. Operation: Make Jean Jealous (e)

You're tired of secretly pining over Jean so you have the brilliant idea to hook up with his former best friend to try to make him jealous.

02. Titan LLP

It's your first week at your new job and you meet some of your coworkers.

03. Truth or Dare (e)

You play a fun little drinking game with your coworkers, but Pieck throws herself all over Jean and it pisses you off. Eren comforts you.

04. Halloween

Flashback to the first time you met Connie, Sasha, and Jean.

05. Roomie Movie Night (e)

You and Jean run around town to pick up supplies for your weekly roommate movie night and then you meet up with Eren after.

06. Jean's Ex-Girlfriend

You go for lunch with Pieck and Jean and then talk with Sasha about how the plan to make Jean jealous is going.

07. The Cabin in Trost

Flashback to when you, Connie, Sasha, and Jean went to the Kirstein Family Cabin for the weekend

08. Work Sucks

You confide in Eren about your struggles with work.

09. Performance Improvement Plan (e)

You have a breakdown at work when you get stuck at the office late. Eren helps take your mind of things and Jean gets upset.

10. Sparkling Fruit Wine

You celebrate successfully making through your probation period with Jean and the roommates. Check out this art by Toxrez on Tumblr of Jean and Reader buying wine together!

11. Eren fucking Jaeger (e)

Eren's perspective on how things have been going. Check out this art by Whenrene on Tumblr of Reader and Eren and Reader and Jean! AND check out this art by Toxrez on Tumblr with various scenes of Reader and Eren making out in his car.

12. The Reeves Job

You and a few others get assigned to the Reeves Job in Trost. There was a mistake with the room bookings and you debrief the past few nights with Sasha over the phone.

13. Fieldwork (e)

Day one at the client's overlaps to an evening work-session at Jean's room.

14. Sleepless

Lack of sleep negatively affects your performance and Eren gets frustrated with his feelings. Check out this art by Haru_Kichou on Twitter of Connie, Sasha, and Jean!

15. Hopeless

Things get a lot worse for you and Reiner at work, but Jean comes by to help you out. Another conversation with Sasha gives you a renewed sense of confidence about your love life.

16. Shameless (e)

You run to Eren for comfort after another hard day at work and he almost says something to you that he's never said before.

17. Mrs. Kirstein

First night at the Kirstein home with Jean.

18. Mr. Kirstein

Dinner with Kirsteins and you and Jean have a serious talk about what's going on between the two of you.

19. Jean-boy (e)

You spend the night with Jean.

20. Stress

After returning to the hotel, you have another phone call with Sasha that leaves you with more questions than answers. You and Pieck team up to try to help Reiner with his stress at work and you find out something about Jean that shatters your whole world view.

21. Anxiety (e)

Eren finally acknowledges his feelings for you and doesn't know what to do about it.

22. Hot Flashes (e)

Jean tells you something that makes you feel sick to your stomach and then he helps comfort you after another stressful day at work.

23. Panic Attack

After a difficult two weeks in Trost, Petra tells you something that sends you spiraling.

24. Dinner and Drinks (e)

The accountants lost the bet with the consultants about who could finish the job faster, so the accountants have to pay for dinner. What could go wrong? Check out this alternate ending, Beautiful by shepnicolo on AO3!

25. Jean fucking Kirstein (e)

Jean's perspective on how things have been going.

26. The Aftermath

Jean and Reader talk about what happened the night before and she finds herself at the Titan offices on a Sunday.

27. Fresh Start

Petra helps Reader secure a part-time job and the truth finally comes out about Eren.

28. First Date

Eren and Reader "start over" and Jean has an uncomfortable conversation with Erwin.

29. Visitor

Jean comes to see you at Reiner's apartment and the two of you talk in circles.

30. No Regrets

You and Eren have another date and you ask him to be honest with you about his feelings. Jean takes on some more responsibility at work.

31. Choices

You and Jean have an honest conversation about your relationship and boundaries. Check out this art by toxrez on Tumblr!

32. Resemblances (e)

You and Jean spend some time together in the morning and then Jean has some interesting conversations at work.

33. Honesty

Levi gives you some life advice and Sasha visits and asks some difficult questions. Check out this playlist by Shepnicolo on Tumblr and her explanation behind each song!

34. Giving Up

Reiner invites you to join him on his trip to Hizaru, officially! You have some interesting conversations that have you feeling confused about your relationships. Jean's dad visits the Titan office.

35. Empty

Jean is angry after his dad's visit at work and he reaches out to an old friend for some guidance after an argument.

36. Rekindled (e)

You talk to Levi about everything you've been going through and then finally Eren answers your calls. Check out this alternate ending, Crestfallen by shepnicolo on AO3!

37. Endings

You talk to Jean and beg him for something. Check out this playlist by femme-lune on Tumblr!

38. New Journey

The End. Check out this art by toxrez on Tumblr and this moodboard by jeanboyjean on Tumblr!

[prime-adeptus]

Vient la douleur

Neuvillette lives in the aftermath.

Pairing: Neuvillette x GN!Reader

Content: Major character death, suicide, implied/referenced self-harm, grief/mourning, past relationship. More narration than dialogue. (~3.2k words)

Note: Just working through some things :') I gave this my all, so please be kind and let me know what you think!!

Read on AO3

There are a lot of things Neuvillette could liken you to.

You were the sun, shining bright on the gloomiest of days with your joyful disposition and beautiful smile. You were his favourite melody, someone he could listen to for hours and hours on end. You were his rainbow roses and windwheel asters, the flowers of love and freedom. You were everything a romantic could ever dream of, even if you never saw it in yourself. You were the missing piece he needed all along.

Most important of all: you are his beloved, the one who held his heart in their hands.

Solitude was far from a stranger. Though Fontaine is hardly a place with a scarce population, he was more used to being by himself. He didn’t join in the hustle and bustle of the city, and he didn’t play house like the children did. Instead, he found a hobby in watching the vibrance of human life alone from the sidelines, learning in trial and error what it meant to live. Emotions didn’t come as easy to him as it would to the average person. He could feel a raging inferno in his chest or a chill trickling down his spine, but he’d never have the words for it. All he could do was watch the skies change with his thoughts in the form of a downpour or a tempest.

But in solitude, he also met you.

You came into his life like a whirlwind, as only the best kind. You met him without fear but with eagerness and excitement that he couldn’t help being mesmerised by. Your smile was the first thing he noticed about you. He remembers how it reached your eyes and how it showed the dimples in your cheeks. He didn’t know it at the time, but those would become one of his favourite sights in his life.

“Monsieur Neuvillette!”

You called him with a sense of familiarity that, oddly, he was comforted by. He understood then what the poets meant when they said it felt like the world had stopped for them. In a matter of a few seconds, he felt like he’d known you for years, just because of how warm you felt. Whether it was by chance or by fate matters little to him; regardless of what it had been, it brought you into his life.

Every love song he’d heard from the opera’s chanteuses began to make sense. ‘Love at first sight’ is truly a curious phenomenon. Exploring the depths that are human emotions then was a journey that led to more questions than answers. How do humans know when they’re in love? How do humans know when they’ve met ‘the one?’ He supposes he’ll never get a solid answer to these questions, but he’ll take one in the form of you. Perhaps he never needed to ask. Perhaps all he had to do was wait for the day your souls intertwined.

One chit-chat led to a conversation, and those conversations led to a routine. He’d see you at the park in the evenings and then walk you home when he felt it was getting late. Some days, he’d sit with you in a gazebo away from the crowd and just watch many lives pass by. Though your conversations mostly consisted of you talking and him listening, he liked it. He liked how expressive you were, how he always wanted to see more. The wonder in your eyes was something he’d grown fond of very quickly, but that wasn’t the only thing about you that he’d fallen in love with.

Just seeing you interact with your surroundings alone made it clear that you loved everything. From the city to its people, from the flora to the fauna, there wasn’t a single thing you weren’t happy to see. You brought colours into his life, showed him the vibrant side of the world he hadn’t seen yet. He was almost envious of how carefree and outgoing you were. A friendly smile, a gentle wave, some small talk about the weather; socialising came naturally to you. It fascinated him and warmth would blossom in his chest every time he saw how animated you could get. But there was no room for envy, nor was there a need to be. You were a breath of fresh air and you felt like home.

You liked to tell him that there’s always something good waiting for him the next day. That daybreak is a sign that you’ve lived for another day even when you don’t feel like you did anything valuable. I just look forward to every day! you had said, giving him a grin that always left him stumbling for words. It didn’t answer his inquiry, but it was enough. It appeared to him that you loved life, and getting to be happy with others is only a part of what makes it so special for you.

He didn’t have much to do outside of the Court. His free time was mostly spent reading or water tasting. Sometimes he’d bring work home just to ensure he recorded everything correctly. It was quite an average routine that changed when he met you. The moment you met, his days became livelier. It must’ve been quite the sight for Fontainians indeed, to see their Chief Justice taking afternoon strolls with a dessert in hand. He didn’t care for the hearsay that inevitably circulated from his new activities. What mattered was that you were becoming an integral part of what used to be mundane and changing it for the better.

It was not often that he had the time for leisure. Still, he found it difficult to deny you anything, and so he’d always find a way to make time for you. That time would be spent in the gardens or restaurants, occasionally in the front seats of the Opera Epiclese if there was a show you wanted to see. When it got dark, it would be spent in the comfort of his home with you on his lap as he read to you. Sometimes you’d fall asleep in his arms and your lips would curl into a small smile when you felt his lips touching the crown of your head. Affection wasn’t something he was used to as it wasn’t exactly a necessity, but he found himself craving yours.

The puzzle pieces fell into place on their own as if there was a telepathic bond between you and him. There was never a label for what you two were. The papers would call you lovers or companions, depending on what they caught on camera. It didn’t matter much to him, either. What he knew was that there was a bond, something that intrinsically linked your hearts to one another, and it made every day feel like summer.

Before long, he realised that you were right. Something good awaits after every daybreak, something that will brighten up his day and light up his heart with joy, and for him, it was you.

—

Time flows like water, unending and always in motion. The world turns and the days go by, turning into months and years that pass in a blink of an eye. Time is a witness to every step one takes and it remembers every story that unfolds. Time is what Neuvillette has plenty of and it is kind to him. He learns and adapts to the world as it changes around him without haste, letting years of knowledge build him into the person he is today.

Time, however, treats people like you differently.

Where he never aged, you did. Where it didn’t wear him out, it did to you. The glimmer in your eyes grew more dull over the years. Your smiles became rarer, and you no longer talked to those you considered your friends. You never told him why you were changing. It was as if your heart had betrayed you, making what used to shine bright grow dimmer and dimmer until it was completely extinguished.

In the face of it all, you still had plenty of love to give. You still held him every night as he sought for solace in your arms. You still listened to his curiosities and indulged in everything he had to ask. At the same time, it felt as though you were too far for him to reach you. As though you were fading deeper into the darkness until the only echoes he could hear were his own. His heart ached to see you this way, and for someone as meticulous as he is, he was at a total loss.

Even then, he refused to leave you. He will always love you no matter what you become. He’d love you in every way and he’d love you through thick and thin, through the calm and the tumultuous.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and it continues to hold.

You left with everything he was and behind a letter in your wake. In it was an apology that etched its words into his bloodstream and a memory that appears every time you cross his mind. In it also came a promise that you’d find him in your next life no matter how long it takes, for your soul has found a home in him. And finally, in it was a wish: that you wanted him to live without regret, just like how you never regretted your time with him.

‘You can find happiness again without me,’ you wrote. Your tears stained the paper where ink seeped and blurred some of the words. His heart aches to think of the guilt you carried with you even after death. Of how afraid you must’ve felt as the poison flowed into your system, and how alone you must’ve been.

The sight is still engraved into his very vision: your limp, lifeless body with both old and fresh scars across your skin, the vial of poison on the floor and the sealed letter in your hand. Composure was second nature to Neuvillette, but none of it was to be seen when he found you. His hands were shaking as he took you into his arms and held you close. His heart felt heavy as if it was coming to a stop. Emotions brewed within him like a storm, volatile and disorderly, but not a word left his lips.

By the time Sigewinne arrived, reality had sunk in, and every prayer he had shattered like glass. The rainstorm lasted for weeks after that. Only by the fourth did the rain finally stop and even then, the skies seemed to be in a permanent state of gloom with the clouds shrouding the sun and stars. Fontaine eventually got back its clarity much later, and people seemed to already move on from the strange natural phenomenon that had occurred.

Six hundred and ten days have passed, and he still misses you as much as he did that spring.

Life without you felt more like dusk than daybreak. The splash of colour had melted away and days felt longer without someone waiting for his return. His home is eerily quieter and more hollow. Your favourite trinkets were never moved from where they were placed on the shelves. The book he’d been reading to you every night stays open and unturned on the table. His own home had turned into a paradox—you were here, but you also weren’t.

How strange, he thinks, how he still feels so acutely alone even with everything you left behind. He’s been through grief time and time again, but it never gets easier. If anything, this is perhaps the most harrowed he has ever felt.

The cemetery had begun to feel more familiar than it should. He hears everything that people say there. He hears them talk about how they wish they could see their loved one welcoming them back home. He hears them talk about how they wish they could just hear their loved one’s laughter one last time. How they wish they had professed their love before it was too late, how they wish they could say all the things they never dared to say. In this, he is not alone. His thoughts flow in that very same direction.

Neuvillette is not a selfish man. There is nothing he heavily desired that he’d do anything to obtain. And yet, he wonders if he should and could be just this once. Everything he wants is you. Every face in the crowd he sees is you, and every song he hears is in your voice. If he had just been more selfish and demanded you to stay, would he have been able to stop you? Would you still make the same decision?

He wakes up every morning to a cold and empty bedside. He leaves without a kiss goodbye. He comes home with no one to welcome him back. Suddenly he has returned to where he once was, alone and closed off from the world around him. Being by himself isn’t as daunting as it used to be, but nothing could ever replace you. With you, loneliness hardly existed. Without you, he has returned back to where he started.

Tick, tick, tick. The clock is the only sound he can hear on this dreary night as he watches it strike twelve. His eyes stay trained on his reflection in the glass, hoping that he’ll see you coming up to embrace him from behind like you used to.

You never do.

Yet another date on the calendar is crossed out. The ring glimmers in the moonlight from where it lays in its velvet box. He’d imagined it playing out in his mind, from the proposal to the look on your face as you told him yes. It was a gift that he spent a long time preparing and waiting for. A surprise that would always make you smile whenever you thought about it.

It was meant to be a promise, one that he would keep for as long as you’d let him.

But you never got to celebrate your birthday, and so he lets the candle’s flames die out on their own. With a heavy heart, he puts the ring back where it was on the shelf. Some plans go awry, but he can’t give up yet. There will come a day when he meets you again, and only then can he finally tell you everything he wanted to say.

For now, they remain unspoken. The promise is never made, and he alone is the witness.

—

Neuvillette wakes up to a world without colour.

Everything around him is painted in different shades of grey, from the trees swaying in the wind to the crystal-clear water in the fountain. Faceless passers-by are scattered across the plaza, talking amongst each other in hushed and intelligible words. As he walks down the stone path, he becomes acutely aware that this is merely a dream. And yet, he is completely lucid; he can feel the breeze against his skin and hear the birds chirping in the distance. His body moves at its command, continuing down the path to the destination only it could know.

He finds himself atop a grassy hill that overlooks the horizon where he can see a person standing on the edge. Your back is turned, but there’s no mistaking it—he’d recognise you from anywhere. It goes far deeper than memory. It's his instinct, his life, and he’d always choose you no matter what decision he has to make. He comes to a halt just as you finally look at him, and what was only a vignette bursts into vivid colours.

The world is no longer grey as vibrance returns to where it belongs. Neuvillette’s breath gets stuck in his throat the closer you approach him. You aren’t in the clothes he’d last seen you in. You’re dressed in white and you hold a bouquet of rainbow roses in your hands, every piece of it in full bloom.

“You’re here!”

This is a dream. He knows he is. But it sounds exactly like you, looks exactly like you, and he’s missed you so deeply that he’ll happily stay in this trance a while longer. He parts his lips to speak, but no words come out. There’s a light burn in his nose and behind his eyes the longer he looks at your joyful self. Without realising it, a tear rolls down his cheek, and he finds that he can finally breathe.

His hands shake as he reaches for you. Before he can revel in feeling you beneath his touch after so long, your skin turns cold and you melt into his hands until nothing is left behind but water. Only remnants of the mirage he’d just seen are left behind. And as if they never returned, the world turns grey once more before it completely fades into the dark.

Now, Neuvillette finds himself in his bed.

Rain pitter-patters against the window beside him and behind the shower is the sunrise, coming up ever so slowly. He casts a glance at your side of the bed and it is still empty, devoid of your warmth. It constantly reminds him of how cold and empty this place is, a stark difference from what it was when you were around. The sun has not yet risen. Hues of dark blue spread across the sky and obscure the stars, casting a dreariness upon the entirety of Fontaine.

The chill nips at his cheeks as he leaves his abode and makes his way to the cemetery in silence. He remembers the path to your grave like the back of his hand, a bitter fact he lives with, but he reigns himself in. The bouquet of Lumidouce bells in his hands suddenly feels much heavier as he gazes down at your picture. It’s already beginning to lose its colour thanks to the time and weather, so he reminds himself to replace it as soon as he can.

He gingerly puts the bouquet down on your altar. He imagines how you’d chide him seeing him in this state, how you’d wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close. He wonders if you have returned to the cosmos or the seas and if you’d be able to feel how much he yearns to be with you again. If there is an afterlife, is it a place where you are happy and free of every burden you carried? If he listened to the waters, would he be able to hear you calling his name?

(Six hundred and eleven days have passed, and his questions remain unchanged.)

Deep in his heart, Neuvillette fears that there will come a day when he forgets the way you looked or the way you sounded. Your voice has already become distant in his mind; it won’t be long before the years take you away from him again. Perhaps time isn’t as kind to him as it used to be.

But for you, he must continue to live, as much as he wishes he could turn back time and spend more of it with you. For you, he must fulfil your wish and honour you the best way he can. For you, he will hold on and wait for the next time you’ll grace him with yourself and your love.

Not once have I regretted my time with you, you had written.

He wonders if you’ll ever know that he feels the same way.

[theharrowing]

Devil with the Mint Hair 🍃 3: Pretty good

His pull out game is strong but your hatred for him is stronger.

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🍃 Yoongi x Female Reader

🍃 word count: 7.7k

🍃 enemies to fuck buddies, brother’s best friend, explicit smut, nsfw, 18+

🍃 warnings: alcohol consumption (mc is tipsy); talk of hiring sex workers; mention of masturbation with sex toys; mention of Yoongi fucking Jimin; use of "baby girl" & "submissive little fuck doll"; mc is a brat; dirty talk and filthy smut (safe word establishment; mc does not get undressed; hair gripping - no description of hair style or length; being handled roughly - pushed around, gripped by head and throat; face slapping; rough, messy blow job & face fucking; a lot of drool; spitting; rough sex; pussy slapping; cunnilingus, fingering, & ass eating; multiple orgasms; overstimulation); they do not kiss once; post-nut regret; possibly catching a feeling??? (lol, as if.)

🍃 note: this scene takes place in America and there is a brief interaction with a bartender but i didn't specify what language anyone is speaking or where these characters live because it seems very unimportant for a fic like this lol. i know nobody is here for the scraps of plot.

🍃 beta read by @neoneunnajimin​

🍃 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The summer sun is hot and oppressive, and you sit under the awning of a poolside bar, hair dripping from taking a swim, with a towel around your hips, waiting impatiently for the bartender to return with a blended margarita – desperate for the inevitable brain freeze, if it means you get to cool down. 

Why your brother chose to celebrate his September birthday in Las Vegas, of all places, is beyond you, and you try your hardest not to melt against the high bar chair and its tiny little wooden seat back. You only agreed to come because he is your brother, and you would never miss his birthday for the world. 

And you assumed that he and the guys would be so busy gambling and going to strip clubs – and whatever else men in their twenties do – that you would not get stuck running into a certain someone too much, despite foolishly agreeing to meet up, should the possibility arise. And you were right, for the most part. 

Night one consisted of dinner and drinks, and then the guys went off to various casinos on the strip to test their luck. You meandered through your hotel's casino, cradling a drink while taking in all the sights and sounds, ultimately becoming both underwhelmed and overwhelmed, and retiring to your room to sink into the jacuzzi tub. 

The following day, the guys slept in late while you went to breakfast, and then you joined them for some day drinking and a walk along the strip. And although your sworn enemy did make an appearance each time, with your brother around, he barely acknowledged your presence – something that you have found to be both a relief and somewhat infuriating. 

He has also been preoccupied with a pretty boy with bright orange hair named Jimin, and you find yourself wondering, whenever you see him, whether he is the hookup your enemy mentioned to you over text. 

Not that you want that devil to acknowledge you, nor do you want to care about who he fucks – after the stunt he pulled the last time you saw him, you find it impossible to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds. But it still feels strange to be ignored by someone who made you cum so hard – a thought that makes you cringe.

You surmise that the guys had a long night at the strip club because it is almost noon, and you have not heard from your brother. Today has been set aside as a sleep-in-and-recharge day, anyway, so you have no plans until dinner, which is how you came to be at the large outdoor pool, perched at the bar without the expectation of running into anyone. Perhaps you should have rethought your plan and gone to someone else's expansive outdoor pool, but now is not the time for weighing the could-have-beens.

Once the bright blue drink in a tall, curvy glass is set before you, you sit high in your seat, smiling as you take hold of the chilled glass and wrap your lips around the neon pink straw, sucking in the ice-cold concoction that sends a shiver down your spine with a flavor that you can only describe as boozy blue.

"God, that's good," you mutter to yourself, rolling your eyes back with joy and lolling your head as a frigid rush works its way through your body, aided by your damp bathing suit. 

"Damn," a familiar voice rasps from behind, making you jump, "what do they put in those things?"

You don't need to turn to see that Yoongi has sat to your right, but you do, quickly taking in his naked torso and black swim shorts before turning your attention back to your drink, putting the straw between your lips and noting that he is dressed to swim but still dry. 

As much as you try to ignore his presence, you can feel Yoongi's eyes on you, and you do your best to ignore the way your skin has broken into goosebumps and your face warms. You do not like him, and you hate how your body responds to his presence.

Yoongi drawls a petulant, "Wow, not even gonna say hi to me, huh?" 

You roll your eyes, take a deep, chilling sip of blue, and turn your attention toward him, doing your best to appear wholly inconvenienced. Then, with wide, incredulous eyes and a fake smile, you say, "Hi, Yoongi," as sarcastically as possible. 

Yoongi snickers, then opens his mouth to retaliate, but the bartender returns and asks if he would like something, forcing his attention away as he points to your drink and says, "I'll have whatever that is."

The bartender cheerily says, "Blue raspberry margarita, coming right up!" and walks off. 

Yoongi turns his attention back to you to mutter, "Sounds mildly horrifying; I can't wait," with a grin.

Feeling annoyed and disinterested in whatever this man is playing at, you blurt, "Why are you here, Yoongi?"

"My best friend's birthday," Yoongi responds, running a hand through his short, mint-green hair, and sounding bored. "Why else?"

You sigh and roll your eyes, then focus on stabbing the pink straw into your blue drink. "I mean here, sitting next to me. There are other bars out here, and hundreds more along the strip. Shouldn’t you be preoccupied by that orange-haired guy who clings to you, instead?”

When Yoongi asks, "Why wouldn't I want to be here, sitting next to you?” his voice is much lower and much closer than you expect, and you flinch, turning your sights back to him. 

Yoongi leans on the bar top, elbow only inches away, and his gaze is piercing. Only a small floral bikini top covers your upper half, and your leg sticks out from the slit in your towel enough that when Yoongi's gaze roves slowly and hungrily over your body, you feel exposed. Anxiety crashes through you, but so does arousal, and you clear your throat and take another frozen sip. 

“And anyway,” Yoongi continues the moment you turn away, “Jimin is still asleep, and likely will be for several more hours.”

The bartender returns and sets Yoongi's drink before him, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nimble, long fingers delicately cradle the glass and slide it toward himself. He sits forward, takes a sip, and then grumbles out something unintelligible under the sound of your pounding heart. 

"Hmm?" you ask, turning your attention to him. 

"Not as orgasmic as you made it seem, but not too bad."

With another roll of your eyes, you mutter, "You are so annoying."

Truth be told, sitting out here with Yoongi is not as bad as you would have thought. Perhaps it is because he is holding back from leaning too far into your personal space and wearing you down – likely because the two of you are surrounded by others, and there is a slight chance that your brother or one of the other guys could come find the two of you. Or, perhaps the dry Vegas heat is making you too worn out both physically and emotionally to care. 

Yoongi hums, and you turn your attention toward him without fully looking at him, continuing to suck at your melting drink. One thing you will give Vegas credit for is even these shitty slushies are potent enough that you are already feeling a little tipsy. 

"You seem calm today," Yoongi muses. "Did you also bring back an escort last night? Get the stress fucked out of you?"

Everything Yoongi says hits you like several small trucks, and you open and close your mouth, attempting to begin several sentences but feeling at a loss for which detail to hone in on. Finally, you settle on the most obvious bit and ask, "Escort? What?"

Yoongi laughs, and it sounds almost mocking and sardonic, so you look at him, finding him chewing on his bright yellow straw with a lopsided smile. "Why do you think the guys are so worn out? I've been keeping them busy."

"You've…what?" 

Another laugh, but this one comes from the guts, deep and amused. "What? We're in Vegas, baby girl! Gotta make sure to give the guys the full experience."

"You're lying," you mutter, straw wedged between your teeth, doing your best not to respond to the sound of him calling you baby girl out loud. 

Has Yoongi really been hiring sex workers to stay with the guys? All the while you've been using a vibrator and feeling too small in your gigantic suite. You have nothing against the notion of sex work, but knowing that your brother…a violent shudder runs through you as you attempt to shut out the thought.

"Ha, come on, do you really think I would lie about something like this? We found a fun little club not too far from here, and the guys took a liking to some of the dancers. Once we found out the girls can be rented for the night, that was that."

"Wow," is all you can mutter, because what else do you add? Must be nice? Thanks for the invite? Nothing feels appropriate. And anyway, what if Yoongi is lying?

"And what's the name of your favorite girl?" you ask, attempting to play it cool, taking another deep sip of blue before turning your eyes to Yoongi, whose gaze is firm.

The way he regards you is unyielding, and you squirm in your seat, finding it hard to hold eye contact. Somehow this is the most civil conversation you have ever had with Yoongi in person, and you find yourself nearly charmed by his presence. That is, until you recall how he showed up at your door knowing full well that your brother was not home so he could smoke you out and pressure you into rough sex on your bedroom floor, of all fucking places. 

And you almost break the spell and let your anger rise, feeling the sudden urge to chug back your drink and get the fuck away from this demon. But you cannot deny the way he made you feel, and you would be lying if you said you would not want to feel it again, especially after agreeing to hook up if the opportunity presented itself. It seems as if it has, in fact, done just that.

Although you are at war with your thoughts and not fully set on running off, you do slurp more than half of the remnants of your drink, which goes down easy now that it has more or less melted into a boozy syrup. 

"Well?" you challenge, curious what kinds of escorts Yoongi has been bringing back to his room. You wonder if they like it just as rough as you do. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth, then chuckles. "Nah, I haven't been partaking. Only supplying."

At this, you roll your eyes, once more. Why is Yoongi suddenly acting like a prude? "Sure, okay," you say incredulously. 

"I'm serious!" Yoongi insists, making you laugh more. 

"There's nothing wrong with hiring sex workers, Yoongi," you say with raised eyebrows, almost defensively.

"I fucking know that," he bites back, "I'm the one hiring them!"

"Okay, then—"

"Why would I need to hire someone? You're right down the hall."

Now you know he is fucking with you, and you hate to admit it, but it makes you annoyed – a little upset, even. If Yoongi has been preoccupying the guys, why hasn’t he shown up at your door? He must be messing with you. 

"Shut the fuck up," you grit with your straw between your teeth before sucking the rest of your drink back. The straw gurgles loudly against the bottom of the glass as you angrily seek every last drop of tequila and blue. 

"I'm serious," Yoongi responds, close. 

When you regard him, he looks serious, but you are certain that he must be toying with you, and you begin to slide from the tall chair to the ground, stretching your toes to meet the rough gunite while your shifting weight makes the chair scrape loudly backward. 

There is laughter in Yoongi's voice when he asks, "Wait, where are you going?"

You sigh and stare at Yoongi's half-empty drink rather than at himself, contemplating how much you even want to reveal. You do not have feelings for him, for one thing, but you are also not sure whether he has just been messing with you and lying about wanting to hook up again. It almost feels like you are the butt of some joke.

"I'm not going to sit here and be made fun of," you say, pointedly not meeting his gaze before you turn to walk back into the hotel. 

"Wait," Yoongi says, and before you have a chance to register the word, his hand is on your arm, tugging you back. "There has definitely been a misunderstanding."

You are surprised to find that Yoongi is standing, and now that you are on your feet, the alcohol hits you at once, spinning you somewhat off your axis as you twist out of Yoongi's hold and frown at his eager expression. You stumble slightly back on flip-flopped feet and straighten out, giving him your best glare.

"Look, I'm not interested in your games, okay? I know you enjoy being an asshole for fun, so cut the shit, Yoongi."

Yoongi actually looks a bit upset before he schools his features and scoffs, taking a step back and reaching for his drink. He shrugs, then mutters, "Fine, be a fucking brat."

The whiplash is astounding, and you stand your ground while trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. Yoongi sucks his cheeks in to finish the last of his tequila syrup, then he walks past you with an air of nonchalance that makes you turn on your toes and follow him in a huff. You were going to have the last word; who does he think he is?

As the two of you approach the open door of the hotel, Yoongi turns to glance over his shoulder and scoffs. "What? Tagging along so you can bitch at me in the elevator?"

"Oh, fuck off," you respond louder than necessary now that the two of you are in the crowded carpeted hallway and the raucous sounds of the pool are quieted behind concrete and glass. "I'm going back to my room."

"Sure you don't want to come back to mine?" Yoongi asks over his shoulder as you round a corner into a nearly empty hallway, walking deeper into the hotel. 

"What?" you all but shout.

"Oh, come on," he laughs, turning to walk backward just long enough to say, "I saw how jealous you got over the prospect of me fucking someone else, despite knowing full well that I do fuck someone else, regularly. Regardless, the guys are all asleep, which means an opportunity has presented itself."

"I was not—" you begin as his gaze rakes down your body, and he turns back around.

"Admit it," Yoongi drawls, taking a corner to the left into a small elevator lobby with eight gold doors. He presses a call button, then turns to fully face you. "You can't get me out of your head, can you? I've been watching you sneak glances all weekend, baby girl; you're a terrible actor."

How can one man be so exasperating? As you wait for one of the elevators to get close, you stare up at the lights above the nearest one, hoping that by some chance two of them open so that you are not stuck in a compact square carriage with him. 

But as one of the elevators behind you dings, and not a single person joins you inside, you realize all too soon that you are trapped with him, and only him. Yoongi steps in first and holds his hand in front of the door to keep it from closing, and you slide into the small space and step into the furthest corner from him, staring at the gold doors as they close, then watching in the peripheral as Yoongi hits the number 32 – the floor you both stay on. 

"So?" Yoongi drawls, causing your entire body to break out in goosebumps – though you reason it is likely from your bathing suit still being damp and has nothing to do with that demon's deep, inviting voice. 

"So, what?" you bite back, staring up at the little screen above the button panel that flashes with which floor it passes. 

"You gonna come to my room and let us both have what we want, or what? Nice and rough, just like you asked for.”

With a scoff, you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to find warmth and to cover how hard your nipples are under your bathing suit top. Yoongi steps closer, and in this enclosed space, you can smell hints of musk and cologne, and maybe something sweet, like a lingering trace of shampoo or a body wash. 

"Or maybe we should go to yours," he suggests, deep and quiet. "Your room is further from the others…don't need any of them hearing you screaming my name while I tame the brat out of you."

"You are insufferable," you grit under your breath, though your words do not sound as firm as you would like. 

Yoongi hums and steps impossibly closer, then says, "I know you can't stop thinking about me, baby girl. Just give in."

As soon as the elevator dings and the gold doors slide open, he side steps far away from you, giving you space to exit and begin the hurried trek toward your room. From the elevator lobby, yours is to the left and down a little, whereas the group of rooms the guys are staying in are just off to the right. If you did let Yoongi fuck you – which you are not – doing so in your room would be the wiser of the two choices.

You round the corner to the left and walk quickly down to your door. To your chagrin, Yoongi's flip flops smack behind you, and you sigh and let your head droop back, feeling too tipsy and maybe a little too horny to be allowing him to come to your room. You reach your door and fish your key from where it's wedged between your towel and hip, then turn and scowl, looking over Yoongi's shoulder to make sure nobody else is in the hallway to see the two of you together. 

"Go back to your room, Yoongi," you say. Your heart pounds the closer he gets, and you do your best to keep your eyes on his face, but he is shirtless, and he looks really good with his lean but defined muscles on display. 

"Is that really what you want?" he asks, stopping a foot away and leaning into the wall. 

"Yes!" you whisper-yell, insistent. You glance over his shoulder once more, then say, "The last thing I want is to get caught with you."

Yoongi's face brightens, and you know in an instant that you have fucked up. "Oh, so you do want me to fuck your brains out, but you're worried about getting caught?"

"That's not—"

Yoongi raises an eyebrow and does not wait for you to finish your sentence, drawling, "I think it is. You already said as much over text."

Although your hand is lifted halfway to the key scanner, it is too far for it to detect the key and allow you entrance. You raise your eyebrows and use the hand holding the key to wave him off, muttering, "Shoo! Get the fuck out of here. I don't want to be seen with you."

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, grabs your hand, and forces you to hold the key against the scanner, then reaches with his other hand to open the door and shove the two of you inside. Everything happens in a flash, and you barely have a chance to get your bearings, muttering, "Yoongi, what the f—" as you are ushered into the entrance of your hotel room, and Yoongi is closing the door behind the two of you. 

"Nobody can see us in here," Yoongi says as he steps out of his sandals and walks into your room, adding, "problem solved," over his shoulder. 

Your hotel room is fairly tidy, with only a few small sprawling piles of clothing and beauty products here and there. But you definitely left a dildo and vibrator lying tangled in the sheets of the bed from toying yourself last night, and you kick out of your sandals and scurry over to the bed, hoping to get to them before Yoongi sees them, finding him holding the small purple bullet vibrator between his fingers. 

"Naughty girl," Yoongi teases when you come into view, and you can hear him clicking on the power button multiple times to make the buzzing louder and stronger. 

"Put that down," you insist, closing the space between the two of you and reaching for it. 

"Let me use this on you," Yoongi mutters, dropping his arm down and brushing the vibrating toy over your thigh, right in between the slit of the towel. 

"Yoongi!" you yelp, hopping backward and reaching for his arm, but Yoongi just grins and holds the toy behind his back, flexing his arm as you attempt to yank on it. 

"Please," Yoongi asks softly, flashing a lopsided smile, and you shove at his chest and walk away, determined to put space between the two of you. 

Given how fast Yoongi can make you cum, the prospect of him fucking you while using your toy does excite you, but it also worries you. This man would turn you into a pile of mush in no time. Luckily, he turns the toy off and tosses it back onto your bed, toward the pillows. 

“We need to establish boundaries,” you say, walking over to a long mirror near the front entrance of the room to check your reflection. Although you appear tired from a combination of tipsiness, heat, and genuine exhaustion, you look good enough to let this demon perceive you. 

When you turn back to Yoongi, he is sitting on the corner of your bed, arms relaxed at his sides, waiting for you to continue. 

“Things like hitting, spitting, and hair-pulling are fine, but I get to tell you to stop if it becomes too much.”

“We’ll establish a safe word,” Yoongi says. 

A thrill rushes over you as you consider what your safe word could be, and you formulate an idea, unable to hold back from grinning. Yoongi must take notice, because he sits higher, raising his eyebrows curiously. 

“The guy with the orange hair,” you say, approaching Yoongi, whose eyes widen as you speak, “is he your regular hookup?”

Yoongi smiles sharply, then nods his head slightly as he says, “He is.”

“And he knows you plan to fuck me? Or are you doing it behind his back?”

Yoongi’s smile turns wide and playful. “He knows.”

“Hmm,” you respond, stepping close enough that he could reach out and touch you. “My safe word is Jimin.”

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, then sits back, placing his palms against the white comforter on the bed. “Really?” 

You chuckle as you nod and say, “Yup.”

“You’re going to scream Jimin’s name if you want me to slow down or stop?”

“Correct.”

Yoongi laughs, clearly amused, then he nods and says, “Alright. Works for me. Any other boundaries? Things you’re not into?”

Truthfully, at this moment, there is nothing you can think of. So you shrug and say, “Nothing as of now…but I’ll tell you if that changes.”

“You’ll moan my hookup’s name if you change your mind,” Yoongi mutters with a smirk. 

“Yup.”

Yoongi rolls his shoulders and then sits up straight before slowly beginning to stand. You take a step back, feeling nervousness sink in over the fact that this is really happening, especially with the way Yoongi stands tall with his shoulders square and his expression flat. 

“Repeat your safe word for me,” Yoongi commands. 

“Jimin,” you respond, much softer than intended. 

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth rises for a split second, then he squints as if he is disgusted by what he sees. Instinctively, you take another step back. 

Yoongi is quick as a serpent, hand snapping up to grip onto your jaw and make you gasp – startling you. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks in a sharp snarl. 

Although you move your lips, all you are able to mutter is vowels, unsure what to say. 

“You’re mine, baby girl. You don’t so much as move unless I command it.”

Although you are aware that your safe word negates his statement, your heart thrums heavily behind your ribs at the idea of being at Yoongi’s mercy. You told him you wanted it rough – wanted it to hurt – and now that you stand before him, trepidation sinks deep. 

Yoongi continues to grip firmly to your chin while his free hand rips the towel from around your hips and chucks it to the side, making you gasp and flinch. The bikini you wear is small and still a bit damp, and you shiver as the air hits your bare thighs and tummy. Your breaths are heavy, causing a quick rise and fall of your chest, and you already feel a bit dazed from being handled his way. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi growls with a sharp, hungry gaze, lips upturned. “You can talk all the shit you want about how much you hate me, but I can see the way you want me, baby girl."

His grasp on your jaw is firm, and when he begins to pull his arm back, toward the bed, you step with him, moving slowly as his body rotates. Yoongi smirks razor-sharp, eyes burning with excitement, and you hate how absolutely right he is. You want him real bad. 

"Wanna choke on my cock while sitting on the bed, or down on your knees?" Yoongi asks, leaning nice and close, wafting warm, sugar-sweet breath into your face. 

"On the bed," you mutter, voice hoarse and weak. 

Yoongi grips your jaw ever so slightly, then pushes you down into the bed, causing you to gasp and scramble as you keep from sliding off the edge, hands gripping onto the white comforter. 

"Not eager to get back onto the floor with me?" he chides, but all you can do is stare upward as he looms over you, fingers working the velcro fly of his black swim shorts. 

Yoongi wastes no time pushing his shorts to the floor, revealing a half-hard and inviting cock. Last time, you hardly got a good look at him, but this time, it is all you see as Yoongi grips onto the back of your hair and yanks you forward, practically shoving himself against your lips. 

"Don't be shy, baby girl," Yoongi groans, using his other hand to gently squeeze your throat. You look up at Yoongi without tilting your head, greeted by a dark stare that gives you chills as he adds, "Let's see what that pretty, bratty fucking mouth of yours can do."

With a deep, fortifying breath, you sit high on the bed, hands still gripping the comforter, and you run your tongue over the shaft, just below his cockhead. His skin is smooth with a faint soapy smell, and you let your eyes flutter as your lips close over the head, wetting the skin. 

"We don't have all fucking day," Yoongi practically growls as he presses your head close to his pelvis. 

With a snarl, you glance up through your lashes, saying, "We quite literally do have all day," lips still pressed against him. In a show of brattiness, you add, "So do you want it, or are you going to keep being an asshole?"

Yoongi releases the hand on your hair and slaps you against the cheek. It is not hard enough to sting, but it is enough to make you gasp, eyes wide as you let the slight tingle settle over your skin. Although you would ordinarily be ready to fight a man for slapping you, in this setting, it excites you – makes you want to act like even more of a pain in his ass. 

"Too far?" Yoongi asks, expression still hard but with a hint of softness hiding around the edges.

If this were anyone else, you would bat your lashes and tell him you liked it – that it felt exciting enough to set a spark in you that is threatening to light a proper fire. But this is Yoongi, so you scoff and say, "I didn't call my safe word, did I?"

Yoongi chuckles in response with the edge of his mouth tugging into a sharp sneer. Then he slaps you again, this time hard enough to sting, and he grips your throat and tugs you against him, forcing your forehead to crash against his tummy while the head of his cock presses into your lips and teeth. 

"Suck my fucking dick or I'm leaving," he commands. 

With a roll of your eyes, you grumble, "So moody."

You can hear the beginning of a response, but you open wide and swallow Yoongi as far as you can take him, letting the tip lightly touch your throat. Yoongi groans, tightening his grip on your neck before relaxing it while the other firmly grabs the back of your head.  

Without warning, Yoongi bucks his hips, thrusting deep. You gag, but not badly enough to have to pull off, swallowing the feeling while he pulls back and thrusts forward again. And again, pulling out, slamming deep, and pulling out, clearly not setting a rhythm so much as testing your limits. 

You lift your hands and settle them on his hips, surprised by how soft his skin feels beneath your fingertips, and when he pulls back again, you take in a deep enough breath through your nose. Although Yoongi is forceful, his grip on you is loose – a small mercy considering you are already drooling and beginning to cry.

"Damn, baby girl, your throat feels amazing," Yoongi rasps, voice coming out surprisingly desperate. 

As he sets a pace, you settle into the pattern of breathing in time with his thrusts, and Yoongi continues to hold onto your head and neck while he fucks your face. Although you have given a sloppy blow job or two in the past, this is the first time you have allowed someone to be in control. 

Tears catch in your eyelashes and fall, and you glance up, watching as Yoongi grits his teeth and knits his brow, clearly holding himself back from losing some semblance of control – whether it is the urge to fuck harder or to cum already, you can only presume. 

When his eyes meet yours, he moans, allowing his eyelids to flutter, causing your strong foundation of hating his fucking guts to crumble just a little. Yoongi looks sexy while falling apart, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest, which rise and fall with each breath he takes. 

"You have no idea how fucking good this feels," Yoongi mutters, hissing as his cock presses in nice and deep, causing thick drool to build. 

The sounds that come from you are wet and pornographic, forced from your throat. You attempt to hum in response to his praise, but the sound is garbled and lost. Not that he needs to hear your sweet utterances, anyway; what would that do for his ego?

When Yoongi pulls all the way out, it surprises you. You lurch slightly, your mouth following the movement while your lungs attempt to adjust to a full intake of air. Yoongi moves his hand from the back of your head and slaps you across the cheek, making you whimper. 

Drool coats your lips and chin, tears streak down your cheeks, and the way Yoongi looks down at you is practically reverent. You wonder what he could possibly be thinking – Min Yoongi does not look at you like that. 

Thankfully, in a blink, the expression is gone, replaced by something much sharper. Yoongi reaches down and yanks at your swim top, forcing your breasts to spill in a jerking motion. Too stunned to respond, you sit while Yoongi roughly palms at your chest, calloused hands against soft, sensitive skin. 

Yoongi squeezes and slaps your breasts, giving your nipples a pinch with one alternating hand while he continues holding you firmly by the throat. You do your best not to react too loudly, huffing and sighing without moaning; you want Yoongi to really work to get a reaction out of you. With how cocky he is, you expect he will have no trouble doing so.

Without warning, Yoongi shoves you onto your back, fully releasing you, and sending you crashing against the comforter. You scramble, legs spreading as you lift one in an attempt to get into any position that might be useful, but Yoongi bends and grabs your ass, yanking it off the edge of the bed and pressing in a way that lifts your hips slightly, causing your legs to flail and spread. He yanks your swimsuit bottom to the side, bends just enough to spit on you, and then he rubs the tip of his dick against the spit, over your clit and labia before he spears you nice and deep. 

The stretch makes you cry out and squeeze your eyes tight, gripping the comforter and attempting to find a position to hold your legs. Yoongi presses and slightly twists you so that one leg is bent and somewhat hanging downward and the other is lifted high in the air, and he sets a brutal pace, fucking you hard and deep before you can wrap your head around anything.

"Holy fuck!" you scream, pleasure-pain so intense, you struggle to breathe. 

"So tight," Yoongi moans, pressing his weight into you even more, making your leg muscles burn and ache. 

All you can do is lay and take what Yoongi gives you, doing your best to relax your muscles while he fucks you harder and better than anyone has before. You said you wanted it rough, and you are not disappointed. With each deep thrust, you chase your high quickly. 

Yoongi reaches with one hand and roughly rubs over your clit, giving your pussy gentle slaps that send you hurtling over the edge. Your moans turn into sobs, back bowing from the bed as you build and build and then crash. 

"That's it, baby girl," Yoongi grits, fingers working your clit in more practiced movements. "Show me how fast I can make you cum."

"Sh-sh-shut up," you grumble, head digging back into the comforter. Orgasm washes over you, threatening to drown you in its undertow, and you sob and moan, hands tensing and releasing as your legs tremble at their awkward angles. 

Yoongi pulls all the way out before you finish, shoving your legs down and forcing you to roll over. You move in a haphazard tangle of limbs, your body both shimmering from its high and feeling unfulfilled.

As you get onto your stomach, you drag-crawl up the bed just enough to prevent your knees from hanging uncomfortably, glad when the bed dips and Yoongi follows you. Both hands grip your ass cheeks, pulling the material of your bathing suit and causing the fabric to dig into your skin. 

Yoongi slides back in and presses his hands firmly on your ass and lower back, pinning you down while his thrusts make the mattress bounce. You feel dizzy as Yoongi fucks you deep, and when he moves his hands to anchor beside your hips, you bounce even harder. 

One hand presses down on the side of your head and pushes your face into the mattress, and although it does not hurt, the pressure is enough to make you feel almost floaty and perfectly used. You are so close to cuming again, and when Yoongi leans low, warm breath ghosting over your face, you close your eyes. 

"This rough enough for you?" he asks, voice raspy and enticing. 

You practically scream yes and divulge just how good he makes you feel – how you will likely never be fucked this good by anyone else. But you choose to hold onto the praise for another day. 

"It's pretty good," you manage to mutter between unrelenting slaps of skin against skin. 

Yoongi scoffs. "Pretty good," he grits, mostly to himself. 

Then he spits on the side of your mouth, causing you to scowl. Yoongi removes the hand from your head and rubs his fingers over the saliva, smearing it over your lips and cheek while his hips continue their attack. 

"You look so good, all messy," he says with a playful tone. "Nothing but a submissive little fuck doll for me to use as I please."

Yoongi sits up, grips you by the hips, and speeds his pace, causing every muscle in your body to fight between wanting to tense and relax. You chase your next high and breakneck speeds, babbling nonsense as Yoongi uses you just as promised. 

You nearly cum just as Yoongi pulls out and releases his hold. With an impatient, frustrated groan, you bury your face into the blanket while Yoongi's weight shifts and reaches under you to grab your hips. Hot breath follows a warm wet tongue against your pussy, and you moan loud and eager, doing your best to pop your ass out and give him as much access to you as possible as a new rush of pleasure takes hold. 

Yoongi buries his face into you and puts his whole jaw into devouring your cunt, lips and tongue working you over in broad, sloppy movements. Remnants of the high you were chasing before build quickly. And when his tongue moves to your asshole and he plunges two fingers into your pussy, thumb rubbing over your clit, the dam breaks. 

Gripping the comforter, you squeal and moan, feeling wave after intense wave flow through you. Yoongi hums and groans as he tongue fucks your ass, fingers and thumb rubbing over your sweet spots. As soon as your high dissipates, you feel another racing to take its place. 

This time, when he pulls away before you can cum, you feel relief. You do your best to relax and catch your breath, feeling your entire body tremble and sink into the mattress. 

"Already going limp on me," Yoongi teases, pressing into your hips to make you roll around to your back again. 

“Making me dizzy,” you complain as you flop over, legs spreading uselessly, plopping down to the mattress. 

Your bathing suit top is even more askew, breasts hanging past the thin cups that have shifted, but you do not care. This is exactly how you wanted to be fucked – rushed, rough, and without any preamble or romance. 

“You like it when I play with your ass,” Yoongi teases, lips pulled into an obnoxious smirk. 

“Shut up,” you complain, rolling your heavy, tired eyes. 

Yoongi spreads your thighs with both palms and spits with enough force onto your clit that it makes you flinch. One hand stays pressed into your thigh while the other pumps and lines up his cock. 

How it still feels so incredible when he spears you open is a mystery; your body should be used to it by now, but instead, the stretch feels overwhelming, making you moan and arc off the comforter. 

“Should let Jimin and I double penetrate you,” Yoongi grits between his teeth as he pulls back and slams forward. 

“Oh my god!” you scream as Yoongi grips your hips and drives his cock into you so hard, your body trembles and jiggles with each perfect punch of his hips. 

Although the prospect of actually meeting Jimin does interest you, and it does feel good when Yoongi plays with your ass, double penetration – specifically anal sex –  is not something you are ready for. But you are unable to voice your trepidation at the moment, mouth only capable of sputtering nonsense between sobs and moans, which you are no longer capable of holding back. 

Yoongi leans, deepening his thrusts, and he slots two fingers into your mouth, pressing on your tongue and forcing you to drool. His fingers taste like you, heady and ever so slightly tangy, and he grips onto your jaw nice and tight while each drag of his cock threatens to send you into a new dimension of existence. 

Your eyes flutter, and you wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip from your body. You feel tingly and elevated into clouds – like nothing in the world exists but the two of you tangled in this sardonic dance. 

"Fuck, I won't last much longer," Yoongi groans, and you practically thank the heavens. 

At this rate, if Yoongi does not cum soon, you might risk actually wanting to see him more often. You might find yourself thinking about him while he is away, and, god forbid, wanting to invite him over to do this again. 

"Can I cum inside you?" Yoongi asks, voice breaking around the edges. 

You attempt to mutter, "Absolutely not," around his fingers, but the sounds come out jumbled and drool runs down your cheek. 

Luckily, Yoongi seems to understand, and he slides his fingers from your mouth, then pulls all the way out and begins to stroke himself off with his drool-covered hand. Although you find it hard to keep your eyes open, you cannot help but stare. 

Yoongi kneels over you, head tipped back with his throat bobbing as he chases the last of his high. He moans loud and unabashed, sounding and looking far better than you care to admit, with his mint-colored hair hanging over his forehead in sweaty little stalactites. He trembles as his cum sprays from his glistening cock, covering your thigh and hip, and as he squeezes his tip to get the last remaining drops out, he falls slightly forward, bracing himself with his free hand. 

"God damn," Yoongi groans, head drooping low. "I knew you would feel good but that was insane."

The urge to tell Yoongi to shut up is strong, but you find you cannot get the words out. All you can do is stare as he catches his breath. You wonder how you have never noticed how broad his shoulders are before, eyes tracing the lines of muscle and bone. Briefly, you even wonder if you could have a crush on someone like him, before you heavy-blink and shake your head, forcing the thought away.

You hum in response to Yoongi's words, delayed because you are stuck in your head. Of course, you would be thinking thoughts about a man who makes you feel this good – but that is all they are, thoughts. Yoongi is an idiot, at the end of the day, who is best friends with your brother, and something like this cannot become a regular occurrence. Surely, once you have come down from your various highs, you will be right back to hating him. 

"Alright," Yoongi groans, finally meeting your eye while he slides off the edge of the bed, into a standing position. "This was fun. Thanks for the pussy."

"Whatever," you grumble, finally attempting to move your bathing suit back into place before realizing you still have Yoongi's cum drying on your fucking hip. 

"Next time, I want to bring Jimin. You'll love him, trust me."

With a sigh, you glance around the room, then remember there is a box of tissues sitting on the bathroom counter. "There is definitely not going to be a next time," you respond as you begin to attempt to roll into a position that does not make the cum trickle onto the bed. 

"You always say that," Yoongi teases, pulling his shorts up, "but I know you'll be thinking about me after this. I saw the way you drifted, baby girl. You were having an out of body experience while I fucked you nice and hard."

"Alright, fuck off," you complain, sitting up and untying the still-damp bathing suit from your chest. Post-nut regret settles deep the more he eggs you on, and it is beginning to annoy the shit out of you. Why must he speak? All of this would be much more pleasant if he would just fuck you and go.

Yoongi turns and walks away without another word. You close your eyes and take a deep breath in, making an attempt at centering yourself. This was just another slip-up, and hardly a big deal; it is not as if you will be asking for a round three. He is simply too annoying and low-key inconsiderate. 

You sit and wait for the door to open and close, planning a nice warm shower. The only plan the group has is to meet for dinner, and that isn't for another few hours. You are shocked when you feel something hit you on the arm, and your eyes fly open to find the cardboard cube of tissues resting by your hand, and Yoongi standing nearby with a smile. 

"See ya later," he calls, waving his fingertips playfully while a sweet, almost pretty smile graces his lips. 

"Yup," you respond, tearing your gaze away and looking down at the tissues. Only when you finally do hear Yoongi leave, do you begin to wipe yourself clean.

"Get your shit together," you mumble under your breath, disgusted by how much you actually did enjoy Yoongi's company, bothered by how your giant suite feels lonely the moment he is gone. 

You need to get a grip before dinnertime. And you need to resist the urge to get to know Jimin. This can not and will not become a regular thing. There is absolutely no way it can. Nothing good can come from catching feelings for the devil with the mint hair.

ahhh, here we are again with a written part after almost a full year! let me know what you think! i only have 1 other part planned, but that doesn't mean it will end there. (no promises, tho!)

comments and reblogs make the world go 'round! and likes are appreciated, too!!!

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[zialltops]

honeysuckle’s & huckleberry’s

Cowboy!Joel (41) X F!Reader (25) | 27.7k | wip | explicit | 18+ minors dni | enemies to lovers | slow burn | au: no cordyceps outbreak

After four years away at collage, you’re finally home with the tools and knowledge to save your family ranch. That is, if their ranch hand would stay out of your way.

Or: Ranch hand Joel doesn’t know how to handle the return of his bosses prodigy daughter, her snarky little attitude, or her sinfully tight jeans.

a/n: howdy ya’ll! This chapter took me a HOT minute to finish because i’ve been severely sick (if you’ve been on this ride with me since esos you know i struggle with my health) but it’s finally here! I cant thank everyone enough for reading and as much as I wish i could hear from you guys more often, i’m just going to keep writing along and hope someone likes it! The smallest interactions bring me so much joy.

Masterlink

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Chapter 5: On My Way To You

He’s never been more humiliated in his entire fucking life. Never—not ever, has he ever felt this embarrassed about someone seeing him naked. He’s been shot down mid alleyway make-out when she’d pressed too close and felt it. He’s been left in a hotel room when he had a woman naked under him and he finally pulled his pants down. Hell—he’s been told it hurts, asked to stop—asked to leave. But never has it made his heart pound and his cheeks stain red, never made him wheeze from anxiety and dread.

He didn’t mean for it to happen—he’s been doing his best to avoid you, give you the space you want, but you’ve been nicer lately and it makes him want to get closer, test those waters and get to know you, but the second he lets himself start to give in, his body goes full force and he has to get away. Today was a hard day for him because he’d been up late the night before trying to rewire a break in the fence that let out three heifers and the little calf you’d saved on Christmas.

He’d crashed hard last night and woke up too late to work himself over before starting his day—it usually helps him keep his cool, but today he spent two hours hours in the saddle of one of Hank’s horses, moving the heifers getting ready to calf to a smaller pasture, the older steer that were about to be sold off from last years calves to a quarantine pen. It was mindless and easy and Joel spent the whole time thinking about you and your pretty eyes and the way you still wear that necklace every day, like you haven’t even thought to take it off.

By the time he stops by the house for something to drink, he’s already spent half his morning picturing you in every position possible—real like he’s never had it before. He’s smack dab in the middle of one of his favorite fantasies, one where you’re going down on him, fully aware of what’s under his belt buckle and wranglers. You’d be so sweet to him, make him feel desirable without feeling like a chore. You’d kiss the length of him over his denim, drag his pants down his thighs and you wouldn’t gasp in shock. You’d want him—your mouth would water for him and you’d give him those pouty lips and bright eyes when you finally run your tongue from base to tip—it would be perfect—

“Morning Joel.”

He’s so caught up in his vision of you in his head he’s completely unprepared for this version, with berries smeared on the corner of your mouth, like the jam is just too sweet for you to leave untasted—you’re swimming in a sweater too big for you and christ he hates when you wear legging, hugging every curve of your body, filling in the shape of your body like a shadow. He does his best to form a sentence, keep himself from staring at the necklace chain he can see poking out of your collar. you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it, you’re wearing it.

When you lick the spoon clean, his stomach hits the floor and his head spin’s suddenly from loss of blood as everything warm and tingly in his body travels south. He knows he has to get out of there, doesn’t have time to stand here for another second if he wants to keep what's going on in his pants to himself.

He’ll kick himself later for not giving you an excuse to run off, but he doesn’t have a choice in the matter right now. He practically runs for the barn, the small bathroom inside is a well learned friend, where he can rub one out fast and get it out of his hungry system. His body is famished, starved for your skin and he isn’t sure how much more of this he can take.

He gets his pants down as fast as he can, spits in his hand and starts quick. God, the way you’d looked at him when he walked in there, like you were happy to see him for once, glad to share his company—if only he wasn’t such a complete piece of shit who can't take a kind gesture for just that.

He sees your smile and he wants to dig his hands into the meat of your ass and hoist you up. Wants to hold you down and take you apart with his mouth. Your eyes meet his and he wants to watch them roll back when you take all of him, like no one ever has, ever will but he can let himself imagine it in this tiny bathroom that smells like livestock and dirt. He can imagine the way you’d want it, want him. The way you’d tell him how good he felt, how good he made you feel despite what he’s always been told about himself.

Just a few more—a couple more tugs and he’s almost there, so fucking close to the thought of your body and his, and…and…

The next thing he knows your eyes are on him, then tick down to his hand wrapped around himself like the pathetic man he knows he is. He’ll never forget the way you looked at him, the way you told him how traumatized you were to see him like that, he’s sure it would have hurt less if you’d stabbed him in the heart with a dull knife.

He fucking runs back to the cabin and get’s himself under a cold shower, trying to keep his hair from getting wet so you don’t know while his body takes a shock to its system, flushing out the desire and replacing it for his shame. When he’s red and shaking from the cold, he re-dresses and heads back towards the house. The longer he hides, the more likely you are to piece together the odd string of occurrences surrounding his disappearances. The longer he waits, the more guilty he looks, so he forces himself up the stairs, trying his best to catch his breath outside of the door until he finally has the gull to knock. He knows you’re in there, he can faintly hear something, soft little sounds that he can't quite make out, so he calls your name when the small rasps don’t catch your attention.

He nearly leaves when the door finally comes open, and…fuck if you aren’t a sight for his painfully sore eyes. You’re red all over, stunning, breathing hard with wide eyes like you’ve been caught at something. Maybe you have, he can imagine, maybe you were touching yourself—thinking about him. It's a futile dream, but he lets himself have it anyways.

No matter how much he runs, how much he tries his hardest to stay away, everything you do ropes him in and hog ties him up, unable and unwilling to be moved until you’ve decided what to do with him now that everything he is, is yours.

It’s shame that keeps him from embarrassing himself again once he drives into town, because the way you press against him in the truck makes his skin boil. He doesn’t deserve to have you beside him after what you’d been forced to witness, but that doesn’t stop him. He wants to slip his hand along your thigh, wishes Tommy wasn’t sitting beside you and he could stuff his hand down the front of your leggings and show you a thing or two—he knows he’s good with his hands—his mouth, he has to be if he wants to get a woman off. He wants to show you exactly what he could do for you, to you, but he keeps his mouth closed and taps his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way. It’s infuriating, how much you get along with Tommy now, who’s been nothing but crude to you, making passes at you left and right and god help him, you let him. He wants you to talk to him like that too, he wants to make you laugh, make you giggle and blush prettily.

But he just loads the truck. Watches when you and Tommy snicker over a bottle of whiskey he knows he can't touch because last time he made a fool of himself. He tries not to intrude on your space, tries not to bother you and Tommy around the fire later after he’s done unloading the truck alone. Not even Tommy helps him around here anymore, too far up your ass that he’s damn near useless.

He watches from the window like a fucking creep, trying not to work himself up over the way you smile at his brother, the way you throw your head back laughing at something stupid he probably said. He wants that to be him, sitting beside you with whiskey making him bold, faking it for him since he doesn’t have the ability to just talk to you. He’s sure he’d tell you everything, how beautiful he thinks you are, how much smarter than him you are. He’d probably tell you how many times he’s thought about you with his hands wrapped around himself, in the dark of his room with your name on his lips.

He doesn’t do any of that, instead he watches you from the window and lets his heart ache and pound until he sees the way Tommy lingers closer, touches your leg absently and you let him. He has to put a stop to this, so he tracks out into the cold and tries to put his foot down. Maybe Tommy will go to bed, you’ll let him walk you home and it will be so cold that you’ll ask him to stay again. But before he has a second to beg you otherwise, you’re kissing his brother.

You’re kissing his brother instead of him and he can't watch for another second, so he hightails it inside and slams his bedroom door behind himself. He can usually hear right through Tommy’s wall, but he holds his hands over his ears and tries his hardest to keep the sound of his ragged breaths from making it through the walls. At some point, he falls asleep, wishing you were laying right beside him, sprawled out, satisfied and spent with the shape of his teeth on your shoulder.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s not even close to sun up yet. He has a long day ahead of him, has to ride up to the north pasture, acres upon acres of beautiful pine covered land, but Joel has to ensure that the streams aren’t frozen over if he wants to move the heifers and their calves there soon. He gets dressed with a ache in his bones that he knows didn’t come from his age, his stomach is in knots because he knows what's been done, he knows he can’t change it—that he might not ever stand a chance with you now that you’ve been with him. Women always preferred Tommy over him, all the same cowboy charm with a bit more confidence.

He slips on his boots and places his hat on his head before lingering in the hallway for a long moment. He stares at Tommys door and imagines you sleeping on the other side of it. Did you like it? Do you like him?

He turns and starts down the hallways when the door comes open with a slow creak. He turns back around in the dark light of the hallway and, there you are wearing one of Tommy’s shirts and nothing else, your hair is mused and you have this look on your face, one that reeds shame and worry and for what Joel just can't quite put his finger on. You don’t say anything for a long time, just Joel and you and the fading darkness outside, your eyes tracking over him with a shiny hue to them.

“Where are you going?” Where is he going is the first thing you have to say to him? Like he climbed out of your bed and snuck off. “I uhm…I have a long ride up to the north field, thought I would get a early start on it.” He clears his throat and glances down at his boots, then back up at you. “Though I should give ya’ll some space, no one wants their brother listenin’ in.”

He starts to turn away again because he can’t look at you for another second when he knows you have his saliva on your skin and the shapes of his hands on your body.

“Can I come with you?” Go with him? You want to go with him when there’s a warm body waiting for you in a warm bed, where you can hide from the cold world, the impending darkness and a man like him. “You want to go? Why?” You close the bedroom door behind you like you don't want to wake Tommy and it makes Joel’s heart pound out of his chest for reasons it shouldn’t. “I don't know, it’s cold out there, you’re uhm…you’re naked.”

He tries, really tries to keep his eyes off your bare thighs, the shirt hanging off your frame and your sock-less feet on the hardwood. “I’m not naked, I have underwear on,” you lift one side of the shirt like you have to prove it to him and his eyes track to the black lace hugging your hips. Saliva builds in his mouth and he clears his throat, needing to turn away from you again. “If you want to come you should probably put some clothes on, I’ll meet you in the stable.” He starts to gather up his things, a light and his phone, trying to make himself busy so he can get away. “Well, will you wait for me—I don’t want to walk alone.” And Joel doesn’t want to do this right now, walk with you for a half mile back to the stables, sit beside you, wondering if it aches sitting in the saddle because his brother fucked you.

But he waits anyway, fiddles with the brim of his hat while he sits on the couch in silence as he waits for you to get dressed. You come out in your clothes from the night before, bundled up in a big jacket with your hair tied back. He tells himself not to think about it and heads towards the door. The walk to the stables is nearly silent, but the pounding in his ears drowns out the awkwardness in the interaction. How can he stop thinking about it? How you slept with him but dragged yourself out of bed to follow Joel into the cold? How you would trade a warm body for Joel’s cold shoulder?

“Need help with your saddle?” His voice feels raw from not using it, his hands aching from the cold while he cinches up the girth strap. This time next year, hell be saddling up Cersi to take this trip, he cant wait, but for now he’ll ride Hanks sturdy horse through the mud and snow. “I’ve got it, thank you.” There's no snap in your tone like he expects there to be and you work with him in unison, getting your mounts ready while the sun starts to climb into the atmosphere. By the time he gets out of the barn, you’re smiling at him. Smiling from your spot in the saddle with the reigns in your hands like you’re made for that.

“You ready to get a move on, cowboy?” His chest tightens at the way you gaze at him, wondering if you’d given Tommy that same look the night before. He wants to pretend it was all for him, pretend that you’re looking at him like that because you see something you haven’t before.

“You ready, cowgirl? When's the last time you were in a saddle?” He tries his damndest to keep his tone light as he hooks a foot in the stirrup and hoists himself up. “Been a couple years, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget how to ride.”

Did you practice last night? He shakes his head and wills away the image. He doesn’t think he'll be able to stop thinking about it for the rest of the ride, he can’t get the image of your mouth on his out of his head no matter how much he tries. It’s always fucking Tommy. He’s always been the favored brother, no matter how much of a fuck up he is. He’s always been the one to get the girl, the popular one in school, hell even his wife—

“You okay in there cowboy?”

Your voice comes like a shock to his system, snapping him out of another unpleasant memory. “Huh?” He looks around until he lays eyes on you, riding beside him with your hands resting on the horn of the saddle. “I was asking if you’re okay…you’ve been really quiet for the past half hour.” Half an hour? It's been a half hour since he started this ride? “Yeah, no, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, is all.” You pick up the pace beside him a little, till your horses are walking alongside each-other on the path. “Anything you want to talk about?”

He sits on the words for a second. He doesn’t want to talk about it, not particularly—but its you and your asking him and fuck, he wants you to get to know him. Maybe if you knew who he was, maybe if he had a chance to explain why he’s like this you might change your mind.

“I was thinkin’ ‘bout my ex-wife.” He keeps his eyes ahead of him, because he doesn’t want to see the look on your face when you hear that, that he had a whole other life away from this place. “My mom told me you had an ex-wife. She didn’t tell me what happened.”

You knew? He’d told Hank and Louise a lot about his life, he had to if he wanted them to trust him. He wasn’t a bad man, just a burdened one. “We uh…we had a rocky marriage. Got together young, right out of high school. I was learning to work a cattle ranch and I thought I would be able to give her a good life but—she wanted more, I suppose. Started steppin’ out on me. She got pregnant by another man, but I still didn’t leave. Helped raise that little girl like she was my own.”

He thinks about Sarah and her curly hair that definitely didn’t come from him or her mom, her sweet smile, her first day of school—all the things he missed.

“What made you finally leave?” Your voice is so quiet beside him. He looks over at you under the brim of his hat and sighs. “She slept with Tommy. Came home from picking up Sarah from school and I…caught ‘em together in bed. Tommy said he did it because he wanted to prove to me that she wasn’t any good for me but, I don’t know, I’ve never been very good and stayin’ angry at him.”

Your eyes look far away in that moment, like you’re clouded in some kind of guilt, maybe because you’d slept with Tommy, too. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Joel.” He clicks his tongue and shakes his head absently. “Ain’t no thing. I’m used to it by now, he’s always had a way with ‘em that I never had.”

He has, Joel can't even recall every encounter he’s had with a woman that ended with them leaving with his brother. Hell, it had been five years since the last time he’d (kind of) had sex, no thanks to his cockblocker of a brother. The first time in years since he’s felt more than just attraction to a woman and Tommy takes that from him too.

“We should get a move on, we don’t have all day and I have a lot to do when I get back.”

He digs his heal in and the horse picks up speed and to his surprise, you keep gate with him along the trail.

When he gets to the gate of the north pasture, his ass hurts from being in the saddle and his face feels wind chapped, but you don’t complain about a lick of it, like you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world right now. “Joel?” He’s closing the gate behind you when you call his name. It makes him look up from the latch. “Yeah?” He gets it in place and mounts his horse again, adjusting his hat on his head. “I’m really sorry, about how I treated you when I first came home.”

Fuck do you have to do this right now? Out here, where he has nowhere to run off to? “You're not the one who needs to be sorry. I never should have done half the things I did to you. I didn’t even know you and I assumed the worst of you. Should’ve never done any of that to you.” He never should have left you in the cold, never should have treated you any differently than anyone else because he thought you came from somewhere that didn’t like folks like him when he really likes girls like you. So smart and put together, so capable and confident.

“We got off on a bad foot, I suppose…do you think maybe we could…start over?”

You want to start over? With him? give him a second shot to not fuck this up again? Or maybe you don’t mean it like that, like he desperately wants it to mean, even if you fucked his brother last night, he doesn’t care, he’d take his sloppy seconds any day because it’s you.

“I’d really like that.” There's a sweet kind of shimmer in your eyes when you smile at him, rosey cheeks and a crinkle by your kind eyes. His sight ticks down to your chest, where he can see the necklace he’d given you sticking out of the top. You’re still wearing it, had you worn it last night? When he laid you down on his cold sheets while Joel wished desperately it was his?

Despite the pang in his chest, the rest of the ride is easy and light, you talk about nothing and absolutely everything, your favorite color, your favorite time of the year, Joel tells you how much he loves the spring and you excitedly agree, going on and on about watching the world come back to life.

You tell him about college, how out of place you felt surrounded by people who were so different from you. How nervous you were for the first year, but you’d made a best friend out of your room mate Mel, and you finally got the hang of it in your second year.

He tells you about drifting from place to place because Tommy usually stirs up some trouble and runs them out of town. He tells you about all the times he’s had to save his ass to your parents and how much he’s tried to hang on to the one good place he’s had in so long. He could talk to you for hours, all day if you’d let him, and you do. You hold his conversations like you’re a pair of old friends, catching up after years spent apart.

He’s so lost in you that he doesn’t even realize you’re back home until the house comes into view. He’s spent so much time immersing himself in talking to you that he’s completely lost track of where he is, letting the miles blow past him. It’s mid day and he still has a lot to do and he can tell you’re starting to get sore in the saddle. “I’ll get them cooled down, you should probably get some rest. You couldn’t of gotten much sleep last night.” He swings his leg over and climbs off the horse before taking yours by the halter so you can do the same. “Thank you for today…it’s been a while since I’ve had a good reason to ride.” You give him one of those smiles again and it takes everything in him not to lean in and kiss you because of it. He’s wanted to kiss you all damn day, slide his fingers into the hair at the base of your skull and hold on tight, slot his lips over yours and breathe you in deep until he can’t let you go again.

He doesn’t and you head off towards the house while he looks on. He watches till you make it inside and then some before getting back to his chores.

Work consumes the entirety of his day, until the sun sets and it starts to get dark and chilly when he’s finally got the animals fed and the equipment locked up. He knows Tommy is back at the cabin because he dropped off a plate of dinner to Joel in the stable on his way home. He’s about to start the walk back to the cabin himself when he hears the creak of the screen door on the house just across the yard. He closes the barn door behind himself and follows the sounds. You’re standing on the porch in a pair of sleep shorts and slippers, a tee-shirt that's too big and a nervous look on your face. You don't say anything, but Joel’s feet carry him to the steps, then up them one at a time, carefully and painfully slow, like he might spook you away if he moves too quickly. The wind is absolutely howling right now, whipping your hair around and cinching your shirt tight against your frame.

He hits the landing and takes a few more steps forward, until he’s a foot away from your shaking form, your big pretty eyes that are searching every corner of his. He should say something, he should say how much he enjoyed today, how much he wants to do it again and again and again.

“I didn’t have sex with him.”

It’s not what he expected you to say standing out here in this unforgiving cold, but its the best damn thing he’s heard you say all day. It feels like an endless weight coming off his shoulders and he lets out a loud gush of air he didn’t know he was holding. “What?” You puff your chest out a little, like you’re trying to get a point across to him. “I didn't have sex with Tommy last night.” You say it so matter of factly.

“Why didn’t you?” He reaches up and pushes his hat up a little, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His heart is pounding, his limbs shaking at the admission. “You know why.”

All at once, his pounding heart comes to a staggering stop, standing there on the porch looking down at you while he tries to keep himself upright. He doesn’t know why but the way you're looking at him now tells him there's something else here besides anger and hatred and shared distaste. You didn’t sleep with Tommy, because on the other side of that wall you were wanting him just as desperately as he wanted you.

“It’s cold out here…do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

Joel’s bottom lip quivers so much he has to suck it into his mouth to make it stop, bite down on it to put it at ease. “Yeah, I…I’d like that.”

A warm little hand finds his, tentative fingers intertwined with his while you lead him inside of the house. You don’t take him upstairs, Joel doesn’t expect you to. You lead him to the couch and he sits down, kicking off his boots when you reach up for his hat. You set it on the arm rest beside him and grab a blanket off the back of the couch when he lays himself back on the pillow.

His body aches, his eyes feel heavy, but he doesn’t dare close them when he’s got an angel standing right before his eyes. “Goodnight, Cowboy.” You hum sweetly, lean down and press your lips against the apple of his cheek, more delicate than he’s ever been touched before in his entire fucking life.

When you pull away, those same cheeks are painted pink and he does his best not to grin too stupidly. “Goodnight, Cowgirl.”

You take the stairs up to your room but Joel rides the elevator to heaven from his spot on the living room couch.