#but my stomach feels less queasy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saduko · 2 months

Text

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong.

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season.

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent.

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow.

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping.

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego.

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions.

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race.

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.”

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it.

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage.

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone.

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense.

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way.

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible.

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster.

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point.

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity.

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled.

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was.

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.”

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.”

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be.

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?”

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room.

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.”

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.”

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell, and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks.

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to.

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out.

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak.

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening.

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!”

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm.

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.” You laughed. “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen.

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!”

#lando norris x reader #lando imagines #lando norris x you #lando x reader #lando norris #lando norris imagines #f1 #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #ln4 #quadrant

1K notes · View notes

thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai · 4 months

Text

We need to talk about this

because Yuuri's reaction here is a result of his anxiety disorder and his tendency to self-deprecation and having depressive thoughts. That he ends up here is being carefully foreshadowed throughout the series:

First, Viktor said a couple of things that made Yuuri believe that Viktor only wants to coach him until the GPF:

This

and this

is enough to convince and anxious person like Yuuri that Viktor has no intention to coach him beyond the GPF. Note that Viktor never explicitly states that he will coach Yuuri only for the first half of the season - it's the natural conclusion an anxious brain will draw. And that's neither Viktor's nor Yuuri's fault.

And then this, while Yuuri is within hearing distance:

I'm getting a queasy feeling in my stomach just from watching this scene because I relate to Yuuri so much. If I had eavesdropped on this interview, I would have freaked out internally. Like what does that even mean? Is he talking about his career or is this a carefully crafted answer to convince the press to leave him and Yuuri alone for the next couple of weeks? This secret is probably between Viktor and the YOI creators alone (I have theories, but I'm not going to discuss them here because this post is about Yuuri).

Second, although he becomes more confident throughout the show, the self-deprecating part of Yuuri has a low opinion about his own skating. From his perspective, his contribution to the sport seems less valuable than Viktor's, even when he starts to understand that he's far more than a dime-a-dozen skater. The realisation that he is as least as talented as Viktor, only drives home the moment he breaks Viktor's world record.

Because Yuuri has such a low opinion of himself, he doesn't understand how much Viktor enjoys watching him skate, which is another aspect factoring into his decision.

Third, Yuuri genuinely believes that Viktor wants to return to the ice and would rejoice when Yuuri retires. Having seen Viktor watch the other skaters at the GPF cements the decision he made at the Rostelecom Cup. The fact that basically everyone has told him throughout the last 11 episodes that he's keeping Viktor from skating gives more weight to the idea.

Yes, you got that right. Yuuri deided to retire, before he proposed to Viktor and before he bought two matching rings and put one of them on Viktor's finger. However, now Yuuri knows that Viktor would coach him for as long as Yuuri wants to keep skating, which forces him to release Viktor from his duties at the point he believes Viktor wanted to stop coaching him initially.

"Let's end this" is not about breaking up. Yuuri is releasing Viktor as his coach. He is sacrificing his career so that Viktor can keep pursuing his own career which Viktor once sacrificed for him.

Of course he's surprised that Viktor bursts out in tears.

Yuuri has the right to retire whenever he wants. He doesn't need to consult Viktor. If he thinks (for whichever stupid reason) it's time, he can make this decision on his own.

Is it selfish?

Lol no. Only Viktor thinks it is because he's conflating the coach and the partner and takes it personally. He's hurt and feels rejected because he doesn't understand that Yuuri did it for him and that causes a drama Yuuri was not prepared for.

Is it stupid?

Absolutely. But poor communication skills, Yuuri is too caught up in his mental issues to even think of having a discussion that would lead them to a solution with which both would be happy (both training in St. Petersburg *wink* *wink*). It's not malice, insensitivity, or shitty behaviour that drives Yuuri to this point. It's all about his mental issues. And love.

#yuri on ice #yoi #yoi meta #my yoi meta #katsuki yuuri #viktor nikiforov

578 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 1 year

Note

not sure if you’re taking requests buttttt poly!marauders but they’re kinda overprotective bfs and she sneaks out to go to a party with marlene or her girlfriends but they find out and show up at the party 💞

Hi don't worry, I am! I think it should show on the requests page linked in my pinned post, but please let me know if it doesn't, I'm still figuring tumblr out and often mess up! I hope this is alright honey, I tried to go for the angst but honestly the more I write the more suspicious I become of my inability to write our boys being anything other than soft with reader! I'll try to work on it but in the meantime I hope you enjoy this <33

cw: mention of concussion symptoms, including nausea, nothing intense or even very descriptive though

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 906 words

You’re aware that the internet had said you were supposed to avoid bright lights, loud sounds, and movement when Remus had looked it up after an unfortunate fall that morning. Just like you’re aware that when your boyfriends left you at your apartment a few hours ago, they’d been trusting you to follow those instructions. But you’re also aware that the internet had led you all to believe your concussion was mild, and that Marlene only has one birthday a year. Damned if you were going to miss it.

So yeah, you feel a bit queasy as your eyes struggle to track the movement and voices around you, but that’s nothing compared to the contentment of being with your friends. Lily has assigned herself the role of your caretaker, checking that you’re alright every few minutes and shushing anyone who raises their voice too loud around you, and Marlene has attached herself to your side, telling you how much she appreciates you in between beer-scented hiccups.

“And you’re so nice to come tonight,” she’s saying now, brushing her fingers clumsily but sweetly through your hair. “I can’t tell you how much—uh oh.”

You have a premonition of ill fate even before the hair on the back of your neck stands up, and you follow Marelene’s unfocused gaze to the curly-haired boy coming towards you.

“Happy birthday, Marls,” he says, his smile only appearing slightly strained, before he turns to you. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s go home, yeah?”

“Jamie,” you say quietly, and Lily and Marlene leave the couch to give you as much privacy as a party allows. “What are you doing here?”

“Everyone here’s been posting, and you’re in the background of half the pictures.” His smile slips as he crouches in front of you, disappointment in his eyes. “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” he says softly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You’re glad that he’s here instead of Remus or Sirius, who surely wouldn’t be as careful about not embarrassing you. James is less stern than the others, and though you feel a bit guilty for doing so, you press that to your advantage.

“I haven’t drank anything but water,” you say. “That’s gotta count for something, right? And look.” You brush your hair behind your ear, showing him the earplugs you’d put in before arriving. “I’m being careful, see? I’m alright, Jamie, and it’s Marlene’s birthday. Let’s just stay, both of us, okay?”

James looks nearly apologetic. “Remus and Sirius are waiting in the car.”

You groan, but allow James to pull you to your feet, waving goodbye to your friends with a pout. He supports more of your weight than you really need him to as he walks you outside, where Remus sits in the drivers’ seat of the idling car. Dread settles, along with dull resignation, in your stomach.

Sirius is in the backseat and you hope James will get in first, but he lifts you in before him, placing you between two of your three upset boyfriends. You can’t look at any of them, allowing James to buckle your seatbelt for you as an oppressive silence, worse than the bass that had brutalized your head inside Marlene’s, stretches out between you.

True to form, Sirius is the first to breach it.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“You have a concussion! All you had to do was stay home and rest. That website said that lights and loud music—say, the sort of things you’d find at a party—would only make things worse.”

Normally, you’d argue with him. No matter how hopeless it seems, no matter how obvious it is that Sirius is going to win, you can always meet him head-on and at least make your point. But tonight, with your head throbbing and something about your very being feeling fundamentally wrong, you can’t muster up the energy.

“I know,” you say.

Sirius goes silent at the acquiescence in your voice, and he looks at Remus in the rear-view mirror, unsure of how to proceed. James puts a hand on your knee, a tiny gesture of comfort even though he’s upset with you too. The motivation that had driven you to Marlene’s and through the party is wearing off, and you feel suddenly, embarrassingly teary.

“Do you feel sick?” Remus speaks for the first time, and though his voice is calm, the absence of his usual terms of endearment leave no doubt that you’re still in trouble.

You clear your throat of the tears that are trying to clog it. “A little.”

“We’re bringing you to our place to rest.” It’s not a question. “We can go get some things from your place tomorrow, but tonight you can just wear our stuff. Think you can eat something before bed?”

It’s worse that he’s being kind to you. You’d been prepared for a lecture, but being taken care of is worse. It brings the vulnerability you’ve felt since the frightening pain and dizziness of that morning to the surface, and you keep your face turned towards your lap as your eyes become wet. “Yeah, I think so,” you say, and your voice cracks slightly when you add, “I’m sorry.”

Sirius makes a sympathetic, pained sound from beside you, and James abandons all pretense of anger, tucking your head under his chin.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Remus says, a bit more gently. “For now, just try to relax.”

2K notes · View notes

diorctrl · 1 year

Text

FAVOURITE SECRET nishimura riki x reader

𓂂 ˳ older sister’s best friend riki, fluff warnings: intentional lower case, swearing , kissing

opening your eyes, you sit up when you hear the sound of the front door of your home opening , rubbing your eyes you look at the hallway that leads to the living room that you’re currently in.

you hear the familiar voice of your older sister and lay back down on your couch , feeling less alarmed but the deep voice that follows after has you flinching.

you stay still in your position as you hear footsteps coming through the hallway, you had a feeling on who that voice was and the thought made your stomach feel all queasy.

“bro, what are you doing?” the sound of your older sister minji’s voice has you sitting up again, you look at her trying your best to not look at the extremely tall figure beside her.

“what are you doing ?” you ask back in that annoying little sister tone, “school isn’t done yet.”

the girl in her uniform rolls her eyes at you, “exactly school isn’t done, so I should be asking you that, what the heck are you doing home ?”

“mom let me stay home.” you say in a pretentious manner, it was true, you begged your mom to let you stay home because you weren’t “feeling well” and was under the weather, in reality you just put your blow dryer on your forehead for 10 minutes.

minji raised a brow at you like she caught you in a lie, “mom would never make me go to school if you’re staying home.”

you smile mockingly at her, “well maybe if you didn’t leave early this morning, mom would’ve let you stay home too.” a low laugh has you going completely still.

your eyes betrayed you and you take a quick glance at the boy beside your sister, in the quick second you take notice of the way his hair falls over his eyes, the blonde highlights making the brown pop.

you feel your stomach turn, “so why are you home ?” you asked your sister, trying your best not to take a glance at him again.

mini sat down the chair in front of you and let out a sigh,"I left early and brought riki with me." she points at the standing boy who’s eye’s has been on you this entire time.

“why’d you leave early.” you ask as you shift feeling nervous with boys eye’s on you.

minji scrunches up her face, “none your business.”

“I was just asking jeez.” you roll your eyes getting up from the space that you were sitting on, “I’m going to my room.” you begin walking to the stairs but the loud obnoxious clearing of your sister’s throat stops you.

“what ?”

“don’t you have something to say ?”

you let out a deep sigh, “hello riki.” you say hanging your head low, not daring to look at the tall boy.

“hey yn” he says and you can just hear the smirk in his voice.

you turn around quickly and make your way up the stairs, once you reach you room you close the door and slid down to your carpeted floor.

it’s fine you’re just not gonna go downstairs for the rest of the day until mom and dad comes home.

you get up from the floor and head to the stash of cd’s that you have beside your desk, you pick one and place in into the cd player on your wall. you grab your laptop and some school work.

maybe distracting yourself with school work will make you forget he’s there.

and it did.

well, for a little, you spent hours going through missing assignments and assignments that need to be done for this while drowning yourself in music.

it was the voice of your sister that took you out of your zone, “bye riki, i’ll see you tomorrow.” and then you heard the front door close.

the feeling of relief just came rushing into you, your body automatically relaxes and smile comes to your face finally.

you spend a couple more minutes trying to finish up one last assignment and then you’ll head downstairs, but a knock on your window stops you.

you got up from your bed and quietly walked over to your window and opened your curtains, your eyes go wide in shock when you see the person that you were just happy about leaving.

you admire his features for a second, his nose, the shape of his lips and the way his hair falls into his face.

“are you gonna help me in or ?”

you snap out of your daze and reluctantly open your window.

you grab one of his hands to help him climb through.

once he’s in, he lets out a big sigh and puts his hands on his hip while leaning down slightly.

you walk closer to him and roughly dragged him to your bed, you roughly throw him onto it.

“what are you doing here ?” this can’t be happening, your sister is literally down stairs.

he smiles at your slight anger mixed with nervousness, your so cute.

“what ? i can’t see my girlfriend ?” he asks a smug facial expression finds its way to his face.

you feel heat climbing up your neck at him calling you his “girlfriend”, yes you are his girlfriend, but the thought about it always makes your stomach turn, not because you don’t like him, you love him, it’s more of the fact that you guys shouldn’t even be together.

you point to your door, “my sister is downstairs.”

he rolls his eyes and grabs your hands, pulling you to stand between his legs, “I thought you said she doesn’t barge into your room ?”

you down at his bigger hand holding yours, “she doesn’t…-”

“- so what are you so worked up about, i haven’t hung out with you at all this week and you weren’t at school, and you basically ran upstairs when I got here.”

he pulls you closer, “so just relax and spend some time with me.”

you look at you door than at him, before letting out a sigh and moving away from between his legs and laying down on your bed on your back. “I guess you’re right.”

you feel a weight on your chest and you look down to see riki getting himself comfortable.

you put your hand in his hair and he lets out a pleasant hum, “I missed you.” he said quietly.

“I missed you too.”

he moves his head up and places a kiss you your jaw, then your cheek, he sits up placing a quick peck on your lips, then pulling you in for a deeper kiss.

you wrap your hands around his neck pulling his closer and he let’s put a pleased hum.

your door opens, “yn I wanna get snacks wanna com-?.”

you and riki separated form each other quickly, you hitting your head on your head board and him falling off your bed with a big thud.

“ow !” you both say as minji looks at the two of you shock.

“what the fuck ?”

#enhypen fluff #enhypen #enhypen x reader #niki enhypen #riki nishimura #niki x reader #riki x reader #niki imagines #riki fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen riki

3K notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 3 months

Text

Warmth

Eris x Reader

ERIS MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Eris helps comfort his brave mate getting taken down by her fae cycle

Cw: Period pain, Fluff, Eris being a warm blanket, the definition of self-indulgent cause I'm having horrible cramps and just more or less wrote my symptoms :')

You were having the worst cycle today, hand over your stomach as you lay curled up in the bed, you had told Eris, your mate, you simply weren't feeling well and wanted to rest, not wanting him to worry or disturb him from his High Lord duties.

You felt weak and helpless, hating it. You were Eris' general for Cauldron's sake, you weren't the one who showed pain even a little, but your fae cycle always hit you hard.

Laying in the covers, trying to warm yourself, you shut your side of the bond, not wanting him to feel your pain. Your body aches like a thousand tiny needles pricking at your skin, a dull throbbing pain pulsating through your lower abdomen. Each breath is a struggle, the room closing in around you as nausea rises up to threaten.

A migraine broke through your head, the aura making it hard to keep your eyes open in the light, so you had drawn the curtains, trying to keep as much light out as possible. A slow numbness in your cheeks and tongue made you nearly cry, you wanted to cry out when the numbness spread to your toes.

A shiver runs down your spine as the chill of your sweat-drenched skin sends a fresh wave of discomfort coursing through you. The cool air bites at your bare legs exposed by the nightgown that barely offers any comfort.

Your hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white as they strain against the overwhelming agony consuming you. A lone tear trickles down your cheek, dampening the pillow beneath your head.

You wanted Eris, needed him, but at the same time, the last thing you wanted was to distract him from his work. So you kept to yourself.

You twist in the sheets, seeking a comfortable position to alleviate the ache in your lower back. The pain radiates outwards, each movement causing a fresh wave of agony to crash over you. The warm cup of tea you've managed to sip provides little relief, its warmth doing nothing to combat the icy chill that has settled into your bones.

The sharp tang of ginger root stings your nose as you take another cautious sip, its spicy flavour helping to settle your queasy stomach slightly. You place the cup on the bedside table, the cool wood offering a stark contrast to the burning heat of your flushed skin.

Each breath you draw is shallow, the effort required for even this basic function draining. The room spins around you, the once familiar walls now closing in, threatening to engulf you in their suffocating embrace. Not knowing you didn't stop your distress from going down the bond.

Eris, sensing your distress through the bond, strides purposefully towards your bedroom, leaving in the middle of a meeting. His brows furrowed in concern, he pushes open the door, the harsh fluorescent light from the hallway casting an unwelcome glare across your pained face as you cover your face from the blankets to hide from the light.

He crosses the room in three long strides, his movements fluid despite the urgency etched onto his face at the feeling of your pain on your mating bond. "Hey, what's wrong, sweetheart?" He whispered softly, pulling the covers away, and laying down beside you to pull you on top of him.

"Don't you have..." You barely spoke as Eris shushed you, wiping away your tears.

Eris stroked over the soft muscles of your abdomen with his warming hand, providing you comfort through your bond, "I doesn't matter, my lady needs me."

His touch brings instant relief, the soothing warmth seeping into your chilled skin. His fingers glide gently along your curves, tracing patterns that seem to ease the gnawing ache inside. Despite the turmoil within your body, his presence alone calms the storm raging inside you.

As you're pulled onto his lap, your aching chest pressed against his warm one, the soft fabric of your nightgown rubbing against his tunic. You sigh deeply, and your body relaxes ever so slightly under his tender caress, the tension slowly ebbing away.

"My beautiful, powerful mate... Wanting to deal with all her troubles on her own." His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through your entire being. Each word spoken is laced with love and concern, soothing your frayed nerves and calming your racing heart.

"Shhh," Eris whispers, his lips brushing against your temple, calming the pain growing there. "It's alright… I'm here." His voice is a steady, reassuring murmur that seems to echo through every fiber of your being.

His large hands cradle your face, tilting it upwards to meet his gaze, stroking your cheeks knowing the numbness was hurting you. His eyes are filled with a mix of concern and tenderness, reflecting the depth of his love for you. "Just let go, my love. Let everything else fade away."

Tears prick at your eyes again, but this time they're tears of relief rather than just pain. You lean into his touch, seeking solace in the strength of his arms wrapped protectively around you.

"I don't want you to suffer," Eris' voice was thick with emotion. "Let me help you." He got up from the bed, moving to the nightstand to open the drawers till he found some oils he kept there.

He soon returned, stroking your calf and going up your leg, massaging your legs in soothing circles, "I've got some oils love, can you lift your gown so that I can massage you?" He asked gently, raising your leg up to press kisses on each of your numbing toes, already starting to massage them with the oil.

At his gentle coaxing, you manage to muster a weak smile, grateful for his constant care and attention. With trembling hands, you lift the hem of your nightgown to reveal your abdomen. His fingertips trace delicate patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure that ripple through your body, momentarily pushing aside the pain.

Eris pours a generous amount of lavender oil into his palms as he uses his fire to warm his hands and the oil, before pressing them firmly against your abdomen, your muscles quivering under his hand. The scent fills the room, soothing and relaxing. His thumbs dig into tense muscles, working out knots with practised precision. His movements are firm and gentle, designed to provide maximum relief to your body.

"Does that feel better?" He asks, glancing up at you from under his lashes. The worry lines etched onto his forehead begin to smooth as he watches your reaction to his ministrations.

"Yes..." you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur, eyes closing as your body relaxes. "Don't stop… please."

His hands continue their slow, methodical exploration of your body, moving from your abdomen to your hips. The tension gradually fades from your muscles as he works out the tension, each stroke bringing you closer to a state of blissful relaxation.

His fingers delve deeper, kneading into sore spots that you didn't even realize were in pain. His touch is both tender and firm, leaving no part of your body untouched.

"You look so peaceful," Eris murmurs, his fingers continuing their rhythmic dance on your skin, going over your legs, and back to your abdomen, pushing your grown even more to massage your breasts that he knew were sore. His touch is gentle yet firm, each stroke sending waves of comfort rippling through your body. The pain that had been such a constant companion moments ago seems to have receded into the background, replaced by a sense of calm.

As you lay there, lost in the soothing sensations washing over you, Eris leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. His lips linger for a moment before he pulls back, his eyes sparkling with affection. "Rest now, sweetheart. I'll be right here."

He gently moved to lay between your legs, his tunic was gone, lying beside you both, and you didn't notice him removing it. As he laid on you, he heated up his body, his bare skin providing you heat way better than the mountains of blankets you had on you.

As Eris lay on your body, you can't help but notice the shift in temperature. His skin, warm like the fire in his blood, felt like a balm against your skin. The heat emanating from his body permeates your very core, chasing away the lingering chill.

His hands continue their massage to your sides, exploring the skin. Each touch sends jolts of electricity coursing through your veins, distracting you further from the pain that had previously consumed you. His fingers dance teasingly over the edge of your nightgown, promising more pleasurable sensations to come.

"We'll take a bath later, alright?" He cooed softly as you curled around him, pressing your face in his neck and he put the softest amount of his weight on you, as if to remind you he was there, "Rest up for now, my duties can wait till you're better."

You nod softly, already half asleep when he whispers, "And I've heard something else that helps with cramps... If you want me to warm you right at the source of your problem..."

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @klytemnestra13 @secret-third-thing}

#acotar #acotar series #acosf #acomaf #acowar #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #autumn court #eris vandaddy #eris fanfic #eris fluff #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fluff #eris acosf #high lord eris

220 notes · View notes

yeyinde · 3 months

Note

someone say creepy regency price x maid?

p!link: https://xhamster.com/videos/maid-getting-fucked-hard-14510307

like. i grew up with the word skedaddle thrown abouts pretty liberally here and there. but never really had a mental image in my head for what it kinda looked like. until now. because my god. did she just skedaddle on outta there, hey

but basically the whole vibe, yeah. i want it to be ultra creepy. i want him to give you a queasy feeling in your stomach whenever he's around lmao

like he makes you clean his desk (while he's sitting in his chair), with an obvious hard-on. probs gropes you, too. doesn't even try anymore to make it seem like something proper. bends you over the desk (a la the above) and then makes you clean up the mess all over again when you're done all with his cock still out, drinking scotch and smoking a cigar. totally casual as if he wasn't making you stammer out bible passages about premarital sex and sin in the evening while him and his wife watch you humiliate yourself. condemning your illiteracy for poor character instead of, you know, having to take care of a family as the sole breadwinner.

he's a scoundrel. def says, "i pay you, which means i own you, love." or, "if you don't like it, you can always leave" knowing full well you have mouths to feed and no one else will hire you because he blacklisted you in almost every surrounding county. like, gross. so, so gross. literally views you as his property because his wife decided this little street urchin was less likely to steal her gems over the rest 🙄

#this got long sorry lmao but i was having a convo about pervy older men w a friend and now im absolutely mad over this #regency era Price aka the antithesis to Mr Darcy

110 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 1 year

Text

If I Should Stay

Part 1 | . . . | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Just then Eddie walks in, raising his brows at the veritable mountain of food Steve and Eleven are putting together. “What’s all this?”

Steve smiles warmly at him. “Hey, Eds,” he says, which is certainly an experience. He’s spoken roughly twice with the guy—in his memory—but Steve’s three chapters—nay, three books ahead. Eddie is Frodo, about to embark on his first journey, and Steve is Bilbo, or even Gandalf: someone who’s done this all before, whose eyes carry the weight of worlds.

Speaking of, Steve’s eyes dim slightly the longer Eddie takes to answer, so he waves his fingers at Steve, trying to ignore the swoop in his stomach when Steve’s smile brightens again. “So… what’s this?”

“Dinner,” Eleven answers. “We are making sandwiches.”

Eddie nods, because sure. Why not. “Okay.”

“How’s the song coming?” Steve asks, and the swoop returns, because not only is Steve asking, but he’s asking about Metallica, and Eddie’s gay, metal little heart can’t take it.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out, grinning. “It’s so good, oh my god. I mean, it’s gonna take a bit to learn, but it’s gonna be the most metal solo I’ve ever done.”

Steve’s smile dims again. Probably because he’s remembering what happened last time, i.e., Eddie’s death. Eddie pushes down the queasy feeling.

“Eddie,” Eleven says.

“Yeah?”

She turns to face him. Her eyes are more serious than any twelve-year-old’s eyes have any right to be. “You will be okay,” she says. Then, apropos of nothing, “And I can move things with my mind.”

Eddie blinks at that. Apparently his face is doing something, because Steve chimes in. “She can.”

“I can show you,” she volunteers.

“Anything but the utensils,” Steve says in a distracted voice, like this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation. Eddie wants to laugh hysterically, or maybe cry. Smoking a joint seems like the best third option, except all his stuff is at home. Fuck.

Then she does, lifts a whole cutting board—complete with tomatoes— and moves it over to him. He resists the impulse to snatch a piece and eat it. He doesn’t even like tomatoes, what the fuck, brain.

Steve’s watching with an amused little smile, like he can somehow read Eddie’s mind. That legitimately wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to happen today, so Eddie does his best to stop thinking about it, because he doesn’t think he can deal with more than one real-life superpower right now.

“I need that back, El,” Steve murmurs, and she grins at him before zipping it back over, stopping it just before it hits his face. He nods, brows raised, impressed. “Nice control. Put it down and go wipe your nose, please.”

She does, Steve watching her as she goes, fond little grin on his face. “She’s a good kid.”

“She can move things with her mind.”

“Yeah. Honestly, that’s one of the easier things to get used to. Y’know one of the craziest things, to me?”

“Do I want to know?” Eddie asks hesitantly.

Steve just grins at him. “Jonathan Byers has this baseball bat that he sticks a bunch of nails in.”

Eddie blinks at him. “What the actual fuck.”

Steve nods. “I took it, sometime back during the first year. Actually,” he thinks about it, “what month are we in?”

“Um. October.”

Steve winces. “Great. October…”

“Um. Twenty-fourth.”

Steve hums and thinks. “In about… less than a week, actually, I think—I don’t really know, the concussion messed up my days—oh, hey!” He suddenly says excitedly, then raises his voice. “Rob!”

Robin pops her head in a moment later. “What’s up?”

He grins at her. “No concussions!”

She stares. Slowly, a grin spreads across her face. “Holy shit!” She says. “No concussions!”

“No memory loss!”

“No hearing loss!”

“No eyesight problems!”

She freezes. “Steve. You were having vision issues?”

“Um. Not anymore?”

She groans. “Since when?”

“Um…” he thinks, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Billy, I think. At least that’s the first time I really noticed it.”

She sighs. “I’m going to murder you.”

“Are not.”

“In cold blood.”

“Are not.”

“Nancy’ll help.”

Steve considers this. “She might. She’d be good at it.”

They both pause for a moment, then Robin turns to leave. “I’m gonna go make sure Jon doesn’t give you a concussion this time.”

“Have him make the nail bat, too!” Steve calls as she leaves.

“What,” Eddie says desperately, “the fuck.”

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @andienotannie @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @local-writers-corner @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

Fic Taglist: @blondlanfear @do-you-want-something-more @str4wb3rry-guy @paperbackribs @ninjapirateunicorns @bisexualdisastersworld @hiscrimsonangel @lolawonsstuff @xo-r4e @thedragonsaunt @l0st-strawberry

#stranger things #if I should stay #pre steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #el hopper #Robin Buckley #platonic stobin #steve and el #el just wants to help #Eddie’s doing his best not to freak out every other second #he’s trying yall #starambles

568 notes · View notes

theblueflower05 · 1 year

Text

Tizin(Entangled)| Part Three

A/N: Ah, and we’ve made it here! The first two chapters were like the worst kind of edging- I always just wanted them to be in love lol

Word Count: 11k(of almost pure smut. I’m sorry)

Warnings: Cursing. Talks of past trauma. Oral sex(female and male receiving), Penetrative Sex. Loss of virginity. Submissive Male. Femdom. Neteyam’s a munch.

Summary: In which Neteyam goes into heat, and makes it clear that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Omega Neteyam x Alpha Female Reader

<Part Two(previous)

>Part Four(next)

Series Masterlist

It’s never over,

My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.

It’s never over,

All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter

- Lover, You should come over. Jeff Buckley

Last Time:

“Ma Y/N” Neteyam calls to you clear and true. He’s chosen these words carefully, they don’t stick in his throat “I am yours if you’ll still have me”

Only then do you notice that the black Pearl necklace that you had strung together for him hangs around his throat.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A clear symbol of his acceptance of your courtship.

The crowd, chalked full of all members of the village-gathered close for the Iknimaya ceremony-, had gone still. Or maybe that was just him, his brain working too fast, not able to compute everyones movements as they fought to catch up with him.

Neteyam’s never been that scared before. His heart pounded in his ears like waves battering shore, his stomach queasy- a storm brewing inside of him. Hurricane levels of emotion stirring in his taut belly. He’d faced open battle, sprays of bullets and fire in the skies, with less fear in his chest.

Many things had happened at once.

Ronal’s outraged hiss.

Tonowari’s sway, as though he had taken a physical blow.

Gasp’s. Laughter. Shrill calls of protest. Neteyam can barely hear it over the rushing of his own blood in his ears.

He doesn't look, doesn't pay attention to any reaction but yours. Nothing matters but you, you in the sea of blue.

You're stunned, your pretty face slack with surprise. Ocean eyes wide and plush lips agape. He wishes he had been able to tell you, that night in the forest. That his feelings didnt come as such a surprise.

So Neteyam wait’s with bated breath- his heart in his throat but somehow also in his hands as he offers it to you- the entirety of Awa’atlu as his witness.

You could say no. You could reject him in front of everyone. Make him the village fool who had dared to declare his love for the next Olo’eykte.

The bold outsider.

Silly Omega.

Instead, a smile tugs at your lips and Neteyam lays his bleeding heart at your feet.

When he awakes, its to glittering rays of sunlight streaming through the cracks in the blinds. For a moment, Neteyam feels the disorenation that he’d been accustomed to. The familiar confusion as he drifts back into the world of the living, the dream state left behind.

He still expects to come to in his family's keklu, the one he’d grown up in. The one he’d left behind deep in the Forest with the rest of his childhood.

He wonders if this odd vertigo will ever leave him. If he’ll ever rouse from slumber not missing the earthy smell of moss and leaves and greenery.

The shock of waking, especially for the first couple of months, used to be cruel. It was jarring, the home sickness. All consuming and miserable. He’d hid it well, as he does all things. But he wanted nothing more than to fly home on ikran back as fast as the wind would take him.

He wakes to golden rays of light- in a mauri that’s not his own.

And that familiar pang of homesickness doesn't threaten to choke him.

As he blinks sleep from his amber eyes, he takes in his surroundings. Acquainted to him now. Its decorated finely- clay pots with overflowing herbs. Finely beaded Sun catchers and windchimes that sway in the breeze. A sunken fire pit in the center that crackles. Woven rugs. Hung tapestries. A warm bed mat, piled high with quilts.

Home is a subjective word, Neteyams learned. To most it’s a place, a house. Four walls and a roof. To his father it’s his family; Neteyam himself. His siblings. His mother. To the Metkayina it’s the sea.

Neteyam has found his home-

It’s here. In your Mauri. In your arms.

You’re still peacefully asleep beside him. Your eyelashes kissing your high cheekbones. Your wild mane is everywhere. Spread out on the cushion you lay your head upon. On your face. On his. Strands of it tickle his nose.

You’re beautiful, always. But like this is something else. Soft and sleep warm and so close that he can trace the pattern of your Tahni.

Neteyam thanks the Great Mother for his affinity for early mornings- his internal clock had always been wound tight. An early bird, Jake had deemed him.

You’d sleep until deep in the afternoon if it was allowed.

Most days he’s awake before you, and he loves it. He loves these moments where he gets to watch you. Uninterrupted by responsibility or by your teasing- “What are you looking at me for, huh, Forest Boy?”

As if you don't know. As if he could pull his eyes away.

Greedily he feasts on the sight. You’re tucked in close, on your side, him on his back. Your arms and legs thrown around him, the delicious weight and feel of you pressing down on him. Keeping him cozy far better than any blanket ever could.

He takes his fill of this feeling. Of how content he is with you wrapped around him. Your cheek smushed to his shoulder. Your breath puffing on the side of his jaw.

It’s all so right.

It's bone deep.

He’d realized it the first night he’d spent with you. He belonged here, amongst your things.

Like your eclectic knick knacks and your plants and your well loved soup pot. He was yours. He thinks maybe he has been since the moment he touched down in Awa’atlu. Since the very first time he met your curious gaze. And it used to fucking terrify him. Because all he’s ever wanted was his anonymity and you’d taken all of him without even asking first.

That fear had turned to annoyance- and that annoyance into fondness because you. You are relentless and contagious and Tonowari should’ve known that Neteyam had no chance when the Olo’eyktan had assigned you as Neteyam’s karyu. Fondness had morphed into something else- something that lit his belly on fire and made his blood hot. It was no longer a crush, it was an obsession.

He’s obsessed with you.

He’s drowning in his feelings for you. In his need to be closer to you.

He’d crawl under your skin if he could. He’d crack open his ribs and place you in the center, right next to his heart. It was yours anyway. He’d given it to you. Didnt you want to feel it, bloody and beating in your hands?

No. No, that still wouldn't be close enough.

Neteyam thinks that maybe he’s going crazy.

And you just lay there. In his arms. Resting soundly.

He stews in it, in his head, while the sun climbs higher in the sky. You’ll need to wake soon. Your duties will call you out of bed, steal you from his embrace.

He holds on even tighter at the thought, his nose snuffling into the crown of your head. You smell so good. Bright like fruit and deep like petrichor. Its intoxicating, he breathes it in greedily. Your scent coats his nasal passages, drips in his throat. He can’t help it, he’s nuzzling at you, pawing at you.

In your sleep you turn from him. Desperate to stay in the land of dreams for just that much longer. You go from your side your your back, your legs still somehow tangled with his.

You’re perfectly on display for him now- hair fanning behind you like a halo. Your eyes are still closed and your lips are pursed in the cute way that only happens when you’re sleeping or pouting- he watches your heartbeat in your throat. Your pulse fluttering so near your scent gland. Your delicate clavicle.

You don't sleep with clothes on. There's no reason to, they’ll just tangle in the night. He’d embraced that habit of yours when he spends the night- it’s nice to wake up without his tweng twisted around his legs.

Your body is naked, all of that seemingly endless supple turquoise skin and the swirls of black ink that make up your tribal tattoos.

The only thing marring your bare skin is the courting that he’d made for you. Made of fresh water pearls iridescent shells and stones he’d brought from the forest- you hadn’t taken it off since he’d presented it to you

He can't look away from the curve of your tits and the nipples that top them. Soft from the warmth of your combined body heat. His teeth ache, he wants to chew on them.

Your smooth belly, your wide hips. The mound of your pussy.

Neteyam’s nostrils flare and saliva pools in his mouth.

It’s his greatest fixation, he thinks as he reaches out, his deft fingertips ghosting lightly over your skin. He really has no control over it- no matter how much he tries. Every day in your presence, every night in your bed, it just gets worse.

He grazes the stripes that adorn your arm, the underside of your breast, your naval. He’s memorized your patterns now. He’d know them in a sea of Na’vi. Would be able to point you out without needing to see your face.

Home is this moment, your scent mixing with his own. Your bed has become his nest. The quilts and cushions smell like blossoming romance. The beginning of something long and concrete.

Home is the way you feel under the pads of his fingers. The way you sigh in your sleep- your nose scrunching as you turn your head deeper into your pillow.

Home is between your thighs. Always hot and moist. Ever welcoming to him. An embrace from his dearest friend.

How had he gone all of those years without this?

Neteyam had always been an Omega with a healthy appetite. Even though he’d never acted on it, he’d wanted. Of course he had. He’d gone through his heats crying for a knot, and could be caught on multiple occasions staring at the female Alpha’s of the Omiticaya with longing gazes.

Now that he knows the heat and the comfort of your pussy, he’s sure he couldn't give it up even if he tried. It's silky to the touch, the folds unfurling with his feather light caress.

He wants to taste but knows that his tongue will surely wake you. So instead he just feels, lightly. Watches his own hand play between your thighs. It’s something you’re more than happy to let him do while you’re awake.

You’d be okay with it this way, wouldn't you? If he explored while you're sleeping…he really should've asked but he just can't wait. He’ll apologize later if he needs to.

A vision of you putting him on his knees and demanding he kiss at your feet in apology makes him bite his bottom lip hard to stifle a groan.

You get wet for him so easily and he feels so lucky.

Your pussy slicks up at his touch even in your sleep. It’s heady, it makes his cluttered head feel even heavier. It makes him feel like you’re his.

He doesn't mean to. Really he doesn't.

But his head goes from resting on the cushion next to yours. To resting in your neck, nose against your scent gland. And the moment he's getting your scent potent and right from the source any control he might have had is just gone. He’s under your spell, he’s drunk the potion that is your pheromones.

He’s circling your sticky clit a bit too roughly. His body curled around yours, his hips grinding into your side. His lips moving against your gland.

When you wake its with a breathy moan. Your lashes fluttering and your plush lips parted. Your fingers go tight around his wrist, the one that's between your legs.

“Teyam?” Your voice is groggy and sleep laden around his name. It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever heard.

“Good morning, narlor(beautiful)” your tendency for pet names might be rubbing off on him a little bit. Plus, is it not true? Are you not the most beautiful woman he’s ever met? The title belongs to you.

He kisses on your scent gland. Then behind your ear.

“It is a good morning indeed” you purr, spreading your legs even further, pressing his hand even deeper into your cunt with your grip on his wrist “You’re so bad, Tey”

“Never that” he whispers, his sharp canine catching on your jaw. “Aren't I always good for you? Waking you up in the only way I know how. You’re a real pain in the morning, you know”

You giggle and its so sweet it makes his stomach hurt.

“Ah, so it's my fault that you can't keep your hands to yourself?” you’re very cheeky, even in those first moments awake.

Neteyam pecks the corner of your lips, before breathing his words into your grinning mouth “It’s all your fucking fault”

When he kisses you it's all tongue.

He wants to taste you, he licks into your mouth. Behind your teeth as his fingers plunge deep inside of you. You gasp and suck him inside, your hands coming up to fist his braids as his hips still grind. His dick rubbing against your bare hip, unsheathed- throbbing and wet and hard as stone.

It’s a needy thing. All too quick as he chases both of your releases. You ride his fingers until you’re squealing, never breaking the messy kiss and he comes with a grunt. Shooting off against your skin.

If he rubs the layer of his cum in before he lets you up to ready for the day, that’s his own prerogative. Scent marking has become a thing for him as of late. He doesn't pay it too much mind.

Neteyam just watches you hurry around your mauri.

You get dress, the plum tweng and twinkling shell top look perfect on you. You brush your waist length hair until it falls in uniform waves around your shoulders. It looks like an oil spill, all dark and shiny.

“Watcha staring at, sayrip(handsome)? Haven't you had enough for now?” You tease with a feline smile and knowing eyes as you catch him ogling you. He just rolls his own and gives you a half hearted hiss- before going and busying himself with making breakfast.

It’s domestic. It’s becoming his routine- his new norm.

Ever since that day on the beach where he had announced your relationship and his intentions to everyone, he spends most nights here.

They’ve begun to bleed into one and other. Has it already been over a month, just shy of two? How?

Time passes so fast when he’s with you. He loses track of it as he loses himself to you.

When you’re both dressed for the day, and eating a hot mix of grains and fruit, you reach over to trace along his side.

Neteyam had completed his rite, he was a fledged member of the tribe now. A hunter and known warrior. He’d gotten the markings to prove it. They were painful and slow healing on his tender skin but he’d taken it(with a flurry of curses during the hours of poke and stick)

Now there's sprawling black from his left hip to just under his armpit. A helluva place for his first marking. His father and Tonowari had both winced when he announced his desired placing, pointing at his ribs naively.

It’s all but healed, but still you fret over it. You’ve see infected tattoos before and they are not a pretty sight “I will go to my mother today, and ask her for more salve”

“No” Neteyam shakes his head at once “That’s not necessary, please don't. It feels fine”

Ronal had made her distaste for him known.

She had been the most outraged at his claim on you. Her eldest daughter. The next leader of the Metkayina. When you’d made it clear that you accepted Neteyam, you wanted him and returned his affections it had ended in a screaming match.

Both of you stubborn Alpha’s. Neither of you willing back down.

The pregnant Tsahik honestly scares him a little and he’s trying his best to win her respect, or at the very least, her blessing to be with you.

“You have spent years rejecting any and all suitors we have suggested and yet this boy offers himself to you and you accept? Without a second thought? He hasn't even properly courted you! It’s a disgrace!” Ronal had shouted and Neteyam felt like dirt because she didn't speak lies.

He should've been doing more, earlier. Instead of denying his feelings and bad mouthing you to his family.

He’d stood outside of your family’s large Mauri. Waiting for you. Listening to the conversation within, his tail hanging low between his legs.

“You have never ever suggested anyone that I wanted. Isn't it enough that I care for him and he cares about me in return? He’s the first person who's ever cared about me!” You’d wailed back “You've never given a shit about finding someone who actually cares about me for me and not for my title!”

Tonowari had broken the two of you up soon after that and you’d stormed out of the entrance with angry tears in your eyes.

It’s safe to say that the tension is still there and Neteyam is trying to keep his distance and keep the peace.

“My mother is Tshaik and takes her duty to the people seriously. You are one of the people now. She will heal you whether she wants to or not” You say simply but with finality. A challenge. You have been challenging Ronal ever since that day. Defending your precious relationship with tooth and nail.

He appreciates it- but feels no less guilty.

Neteyam just squeezes your hand, the one inspecting his all but healed tattoo “I will be fine, please. I think right now distance is for the best. I’ve told you I will have my mom or Tsireya look it over if it starts to lean towards infection, I promise”

You argue and he argues right back. In the end, it’s time that makes the decision.

Your father is outside, waiting for you. He greets the two of you with a smile and a nod. It was time to start rounds.

Tonowari is kind to Neteyam. He accepts the union, and has been trying to keep peace between you and Ronal.

You just sigh. Admitting defeat and get up, “Fine. Just don't be stupid and let someone know if it starts to feel hot again”

“I will. I was going to go home soon anyway. I need a change of clothes” It feels odd to call his parents mauri home. Again, he thinks of what that word means.

“You may as well bring your things over, you spend most of your time here anyways” The way you say it is conversational. Off hand. Factual. You’re fastening your shin guards as his brain is misfiring.

“...All of my things?” Neteyam asks, gobsmacked.

“Obviously. Aren't you tired of going back and forth? Seems exhausting to me. If you need help bringing it all- we can do it tonight if you’d like”

And is it that simple? That he suddenly lives with you? Permanently? Because you are acting as though it is.

“Um?-” Neteyam starts all so eloquently, words not coming out but your father is calling for you. You don't have time to decipher him.

“I will see you later, yes?” you reach for him, holding his face in your hands. He’s still reeling but nods all the same.

“Be a good boy today, won't you?”

You kiss him, a wet smack of a thing, before you’re gone.

And he’s sitting there. He’s pretty sure you just asked him to move in with you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It is.

Simple.

Neteyam doesn't have much; being uprooted from the forest had left him with barebones. When packing to flee, Jake had instructed them to keep it light.

Somehow you make sure that all of his belongings mesh perfectly with yours. His few woven tapestries line the walls of the mauri perfectly. His weapons are now stored with yours. You even set the teapot that he’s so fond of, the one with intricate carvings that his Grandmother had made, on display in the middle of the living area. Every morning you brew him strong beaned pekoe.

You are so good to him, and he isn't even officially yours.

…but he wants to be.

Neteyam thinks of it day in and out, a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

As he goes through the motions all he can think about is the way that he wants to be yours. Officially. He wants to wear your bite. The thought is dizzying and sizzles under his skin.

He knows that his heat is inching, creeping near. Has a gnawing feeling that it will arrive earlier than usual. He could blame these feelings on his hormones, on his natural cycle-

But in truth. You affect him more than his own body ever had. And considering how intense his season’s had always been, that was saying something.

He’d always been good at shoving this down, this part of himself. The neediness. The call of his inner Omega that screeched at the moons bi-annually. Heats had always been a nasty business for him- days of writhing in pain, desperate for a knot. Back in the forest Mo’at would drug him up. Teas and tinctures and salves, his body covered in herbs in an attempt to quell his raging hormones. His heats are strong, his grandmother had whispered when he was thirteen and lost to his first time. Strong heat, strong heart. Strong leader.

Funny, he felt anything but in those times of mindless need.

He’d try to warn you about them, about how he gets during his season, and you’d just giggled. Stroked his face and told him you couldn't wait. “I do enjoy a good challenge, I’m sure i’ll be able to keep up”

He wonders if you’ll be making jokes when both of you are in the thick of it. And then, he wonders what it will be like to have a partner.

And that thought is maddening.

Too big and obtuse in his brain, he cant think of anything but. Cant focus enough to be useful during his hunt. His bounty for the day is pitiful, nothing but a net of small fish. He’d down right missed a juvenile Naltusa(shark like creature), the aim was off. Lucky beast, He supposes it wasnt its day to return to Eywa.

Neteyam hauls the nets onto the shore with a few of his fellow hunters, a little quicker then normal. Fast hands and bulging biceps. He hopes he doesnt look as eager as he feels, all he wants to do is get back to the village. Back to you.

“Some days are more abundant then others, we can give it another try tomorrow. The tides should be on our side then, they’re very shifty in the warm season” Kenai’s a cheery Beta that Neteyam has come to grow fond of. Him and his mate Akemi are close friends of yours and they’ve taken him under their wing so to speak. He appreciates it.

“Naltusa meat is nasty sort, any way. Too tough- we’d be picking it out of our teeth for weeks.” Akemi adds. He’s a huge bulking mountain of a man and if Neteyam didn't know better he would have thought he was an Alpha. Instead, everything about Akemi is Beta soft, from his words to his pheromones.

“Even mighty warriors miss sometimes” his little brother shoves him with his shoulder good naturedly.

Lo’ak and Roxto surround them as well, neither with the markings of adulthood quite yet- if they wanted to attempt their own Iknimaya in the next cycle they figured it would be the best to ‘hands on train’. It's really an excuse for them to tag along, ride the waves. Catch a glimpse of the pretty girls that sway in the shallows, working on collecting from the crab traps.

Neteyam just grins good naturedly with a shrug “Gotta miss a couple times and give you the chance to catch up, don't I?”

A hunter who doesn't gut his own catch isn't much of a hunter at all, no matter the size of the bounty. Dirty work had never strayed Neteyam. Even though back in the forest the other hunters had jabbed about him being too pretty for it.

He listens to his companions chatter, content. His hands are moving, keeping busy. He doest add much to the conversation and that's okay.

He’d been an easy baby, Neytiri told the stories. Barely a peep, no crying or fussing. A quiet child, eager to escape into the thick trees whenever possible. Most had been impressed with his first kill, the fact that he'd accomplished it at such a young age. They grilled him, excited and envious then laughed at his answer. All he’d done is be silent.

The sun is so bright and strong on the isle’s, reflecting off the sea like a mirror. Even late in the afternoon when they return to the village.

Neteyam’s finally started to adjust to the intense rays but still, he longs for the damp sweet shade that came with the forest and its unbreachable canopy’s.There’s sweat beading from his hairline and down his back. He rubs at it with the back of his hand-

“Are you okay, my friend?” Akemi asks after Neteyam has stopped yet again to catch his breath.

“Fine, just hot”

“Don't worry, the storms in the evening will bring cooler weathers. You’ll have to hold our girl close though, she hates ‘em” Akemi grins as they walk along the spongy netted pathways.

“Why?” Neteyam inquires as they sidestep a group of giggling younglings and the Narisi’io(Nanny) that chases them “Is she scared of them?”

“Oh, she’s terrified” Akemi grins knowingly “She has been since we were little, but don't tell her I told you that. You know how she is, always pretending she has no fears. But a little thunder- Eywa forbid lightning, and she’s all but hiding under her bed mat”

Neteyam knows it's stupid but he’s almost jealous that Akemi knows all of this about you. He only wishes that he could’ve seen you, small and ornery. If he can only get in tales, then he’llgreedily take it “Really? She’s never told me that. Anything else I should know?”

Akemi laughs and leans into Neteyam’s space conspiratorially “I will tell you all you need to know- and most you don't. You’ll have to come by soon, spend the evening with us. My Kenai makes the most delicious shellfish stew, don't you, Tiwayn(love)?”

Kenai just chuckles and blushes as Akemi waxes poetic about the thick roux and mix of spices.

Neteyam smiles at the couple. He thinks he knows what that feels like now. To love someone so much that you want to sing their praises to anyone who will hear.

He spots you in the distance, like some sort of beacon. His eyes can find you in crowds so easily now, it's like his body has been rewired to hone in on yours.

You're just outside the big Mauri and he figures the meetings must be over. You stand in a group of elders and tribe leaders. You're smaller than most, your frame so easy to tower above, and yet you hold your own. Shoulders squared and head high. It makes something in his belly bloom. Pride, he thinks.

Yes, he understands Akemi’s need to tell everyone just how amazing he thinks his mate is.

Neteyam has a stupid smile on his face. He just knows that Lo’ak is two seconds away from making fun of him, as usual, for being undeniably whipped-

And Neteyam cant even deny it.

Sometimes, he doesn't like the way people look at you.

Most look at you with adoration, reverence and warmth. Some with heat and lust that makes his hackles rise. The occasional glance of exasperation because of your bold nature. He knows first hand what it’s like to feel all eyes on you, all the time. Knows that you mostly try to ignore it or are so used to it you no longer feel the stares.

There’s one member of the clan that looks at you in a way that makes Neteyams fingers itch for his tstal(dagger).

Vaeyu is everything Neteyam has come to know about Alpha’s and all that he hates. Tall and big and brooding, he uses his body like a weapon and his sharp words and condescending tone like a threat. And that would be enough for Neteyam to dislike him in general.

But.

Its the way that Vaeyu looks at you that cements Neteyam’s distaste for the Alpha.

All sharp and judgmental, or when Tonowari or anyone of importance is around; sickeningly sweet and perpetually bordering condescending.

Neteyam noticed it, even though he hasn't told anyone. The microaggressions. Vaeyu will take any and all chances to dig at you. They’re small things, conversational. He says it with that even voice- a smile on his face. What truly confuses Neteyam is the way that you react. He expects bloodshed; your sharp fangs and that dagger that you keep on your hip at all times go unused. You just…allow it.

Even now when the Alpha approaches you, you just seem to close up. Your arms folded over your chest and your jaw ticking as you grind your teeth. To anyone else it may seem normal. But he knows you.

“I fucking hate that guy” For a moment Neteyam thinks that he’s spoken his thoughts aloud, but the words had come in Akemi’s deep timbre. “I wish he’d just stay away from her.”

“Me too, he seems like a real dickhead” Lo’ak agrees, remembering when the Alpha had joined in on the teasing with Ao’nung and his lackies. The difference between them and him? Ao’nung was a juvenile who didnt know better. Vaeyu a fully fledged adult with a family. Cruelty and ignorance have different tastes.

Neteyam doesn't need to voice his distaste, it’s written all over his face.

There’s any so much he can take. You look so uncomfortable and that just will not do. His feet are carrying almost without his permission. He needs to protect his Alpha. Needs to make sure that you’re okay. There's really no other thoughts in his head, its like fuel.

“See you later, bro! Told you he’s down bad-“Lo’ak calls from behind him rolling his eyes at Neteyam when he gives the group a halfhearted wave.

Your eyes light up as they connect with his. Your whole body just relaxes, like a flower unfurling in the sunlight. “Neteyam, what’re you doing here, I thought you were hunting”

Neteyam’s arm goes around you and he can sense your slight shock. He isn’t a fan of public displays of affection and even though you insist that it’s okay, he knows you crave it.

As his hands rest on your soft warm skin he doesn't think he’ll ever be letting it go again. Fuck it, he cares not who sees.

Actually in this moment there's one person he actively wants to see.

He leans in to press a kiss to your cheek, but his eyes never leave Vaeyu’s. The Alpha is tall and obnoxiously broad, he likes letting it be known. Funny, the way Neteyam stands just as tall and never has to flaunt his size.

“All done for the day, I thought I’d come find you and see if you are as well. I hoped we could spend the afternoon together” Neteyam tells you and it’s half true.

It's not a hope. You’re done for the day whether you like it or not. “Are we done here?” he presses.

It’s not really you he’s speaking to.

Vaeyu’s eyes dance with fire. Anger at being challenged by an Omega…but something else. You cant into Neteyam’s touch, your arms going around his middle as you reach up to kiss at his jaw-

And, ah. Neteyam is able to identify that other emotion. Jealousy.

“Come, I am quite hungry. Are you going to feed me, Sayrip(handsome)?”

“Of course I am, come. Let's go back to our home” If Neteyam emphasizes the word our, it's because he’s not sure Vaeyu saw him move his things in the other day.

As the two of you walk away, backs turned, Neteyam shoots the Alpha one last look. His golden gaze sharp and cautioning as his long thin tail wraps around your upper thigh.

An obvious claim

Vaeyu looks away and Neteyam roars in victory. Internally, of course.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

He’s thrilled that you let him tug you along, past the Mauri. You dont question it as he leads you down onto the beach, away from the village and into the thick trees. You make him bold in a way that he never had been. You follow him deep into the bush. Trudging along beside him.

When the rocky cliff face come into view you start questioning again “Seriously, where are you taking me, Teyam?”

“I need you to trust me, and listen, very closely” Neteyam instructs, letting go of your hand to step closer to the rocks. He looks up, to the naked eye the wall of rock looks solid, vine covered and towering. “Stay behind me and make no sudden movements”

The chirp that leaves his mouth is sharp and shrill, followed by a chattering squawk. There is only moments between before it is returned.

Hidden atop the cliffs, the Sully family ikrans had made their new roost. The nesting grounds were high up and nearly in accessible- to anyone who couldn't climb that is. Usually he’d be happy to meet his mount well above the ground but he highly doubts you could make it up that high.

The screech that the beast lets out as she glides down, answering Neteyam’s call, is loud and shrill. Landing right in front of him, kicking up the forest sand beneath her great wings that she stretches ominously. Her jaws snap threateningly as she stands on her hind legs.

Neteyam can hear your fearful gasp from behind him.

“Nimwey” He sighs at the entire display and reaches out to push her mouth shut “Must you be such a brat?”

The ikran had always been so dramatic, such a show off. She actually had one of the most docile natures he’d ever seen in her kind. The point is only proven as she shoves her massive head into his chest- nearly knocking him over. His sweet old girl.

There is a disbelieved laugh behind him, certainly a little hysterical

“This is Nimwey, I have flown with her since I was thirteen” Neteyam speaks slowly, turning to you with his arms still full of scaled beast “She is very sweet but please. Approach slowly”

“Sweet? I am not sure of that…” you’re hesitant, feet rooted as you watch the entire scene. What is completely normal to Neteyam is so far beyond foreign to you.

He knows the feeling.

“I have wanted to introduce the two of you, but there has been no time. And she’s been nesting, haven't you momma?” Neteyam speaks to the ikran like one would a child and not a man eating winged predator. He connects his kuru to Atanzaw’s and the bond curls around him like an embrace.

“We share Tsaheylu, she will not hurt you” Neteyam reassures because Nimwey wouldnt. Not when she can feel for herself what he feels for you.

Your steps are slow and calculated as you approach and once your close enough he reaches for you, and with his hand cradling yours, leads you to press your palm against Nimwey’s side, “Feel her strong lungs, and her heartbeat. She is Eywa’s creation as all are, she’s not scary as she seems”

“She’s so beautiful” you whisper as you run your fingers along her scales. Nimwey is stunning, painted in shades of Azure and Emerald with shiny scales and iridescent wings.

“She is. Something the two of you have in common” Neteyam waxes poetic and the side eye that you and Nimwey shoot him is very insulting.

“I remember the day that you rode in on her. I had never seen anything like it- they don’t get this big here. I’d heard legends of ikran riders from far away lands but never thought I would live to see it” your tone is awe laced and it goes right to Neteyams head.

“Would you like to take a ride with me?” Neteyam had brought you here for this reason. He wants to take you, far away. If only for a bit.

“...You are serious?” You look at him, then at the ikran, then back at him.

“Don't you want to be apart of those legends? The great Metkayinan Olo’eykte who rode an ikran?” Neteyam grins as he says it. He knows your adventurous nature, knows that your need to experience and throw yourself head first into life will lead you to agreeing.

“Is it not dangerous?” You don't say no and he knows he’s already won, he squeezes your shoulder, gently disconnects from the bond, and goes to a nearby tree, climbing it quickly.

The Sullys had stashed their riding gear close, so that they could saddle their mounts in a hurry if need be.

“No more dangerous than swimming in the open ocean. At least in the sky there aren't Akula” Neteyam assures, returning with a large saddle and harness.

“In the water you can't fall to your death” You point out in a deadpan, watching him work. He’s quick and efficient as he is in most things as he bounds his ikran in her riding leathers.

“I would never let that happen” Neteyam reassures earnestly, he was one of the youngest riders to date, he feels more in control in the sky then on ground most times “You do not have to, of course. But I want to share this with you”

“Then take me on a ride, Forest boy.”

You look all too adorable as he slide’s Kiri’s riding visor down over your forehead. He wants to smush your face between his hands like you always do to him. He wishes he had his fathers human camera on him.

He mounts Nimwey carefully, can feel her through the bond. She wants to fly, it had been too long since they’d taken to the sky together.

“Come, Y/N” He pulls you up. In front of him, much to your distress. He want to be able to hold onto you, adjusts you on the saddle until you settle, back against his chest- his arms around you as he holds the reins. “Move with me, when I turn lean with it”

“Any other pointers?” you’re shifty and excited and it bleeds into him. Into the bond. Nimwey braces for flight.

“Don't close your eyes” He speaks it into your hair- before yipping out an ikran call, sending Nimwey into action.

Neteyam will never forget his first flight. The way it had felt to soar high above the clouds, the rush that came with the wind whipping through his braids. It is the most exhilarating experience that he can recall having, he had never felt more free.

Watching you getting to experience your own first is something special.

He wants to cement it somewhere deep in his brain, wants to share it with the Spirit Tree so that he can relive it over and over. He never wants to forget the smile on your face or the way your eyes sparkle with childlike wonder. Flying over the ocean is a beautiful experience, watching the water sparkle where the sun touches it is breathtaking- it brings tears to your eyes.

He takes you everywhere- far out, past Three Brothers Rock and up into the frothy misty clouds. The two of you soar around the isles, laughing and pointing out things you see- a flock of brightly colored Fkio. Fast leaping Naltusa that spin as they breach on cresting waves. The living breathing coral pulses just below the surface.

You like it the most when he flies fast, and banks against the wind. Your thrilled laughter and screams chime in his ears, not lost to the whooshing wind. An adrenaline junkie, his father had deemed you. Just like Lo’ak.

He never wants to come down, would be happy to spend the rest of his days in the air with only you and Zuli as his companions, but life has other plans.

The storms have started to roll in, the clouds ugly and bruised with perspiration. It’s only a matter of time before it starts to rain- when he tells you so you tighten in his arms. Going rigid. Fuck.

“We won't be able to make it back to the village in time, and flying in the rain is dangerous” He hollers apologetically- he couldn't have picked a mild sunny day to do this?

“We should seek cover- here. Head for the Cove of the Ancestors- there are many caves that we use for ceremonies, we can wait it out there” You instruct and Neteyam yanks gently on the reigns, leading Zuli to the instructed destination.

The Cove is breathtaking as ever, Neteyam had only just been allowed at the sacred space after he had passed his rights and earned his place as Metkayina. The Spirit Tree glows, bright and purple under the waves that are much gentler here, guarded by the high dome like cliff structures and floating rocks that protect the tree.

You lead him to the mouth of one of many caves, its big enough for Nimwey to fly straight in. It is good timing, the first fat drops of rain have just started to fall from the sky.

The cave is up high enough around that most of the waves can only lap at the entrance; there is a large fire pit in the middle and torches mounted on the walls. You scurry quickly around, eager to get a fire going.

“What is this place used for?” Neteyam wonders as he works on getting the torches lit.

When you speak your back is still turned to him as you spark flame to the big pit in the center “There are many like this littered along these lower cliffs, the people here to be close to Ranteg Utralti(Metkayina Spirit Tree). Mostly for prayer circles, fertility ceremonies, mating”

Neteyam’s lower belly swoops and his cheeks burn. “Ah, that makes sense…”

He goes through the motions that have been so ingrained in him, checks the perimeters and makes sure that all is secure before pressing the com on his neck. It’s staticy, the connection is rough due to the weather.

“Pathfinder to Devil Dog, comming in, over”

“I read you, Pathfinder. Where are you? This storm is wicked”

“I'm in a cave with Y/N, out near the Cove of the Ancestors, we’re safe and dry-We’re gonna wait it out here”

“Are you sure? If you need me to, I will come in for extraction”

“I am sure. We’ll head back as soon as its clear”

“Stay safe. Keep in contact”

“Roger that”

It is nice here, dry and warm from the fires. Lit by the flickering light of the torches and the glow of bioluminescent flora and fauna that grow on the walls. A soft moss that acts like a cushion covers the harsh rock floor.

Nimwey has left- the old girl doesn't care if it's wet. They’re near prime hunting grounds and from experience he knows the ikran does some of her best work in the rain. She’ll come back, with a full belly for her chicks, when he calls.

You’re near the back wall, lounged against a large rock, legs stretched in front of you and crossed over each other. You may look casual, but Neteyam can see the way that you keep anxiously eyeing the rain that falls in heavy sheets outside. He sits a few feet away, giving you distance if you so want it.

How had this gone so sideways? He just wanted some time with you, all to himself. And now here you we’re, stuck far away from home during a storm and it was completely his fault. This is why he’s never been impulsive, he sucks at it. Such an unlucky skxawng

“I am sorry” He whispers with a wince as he focuses on the fire. On the same day he’d learned you’re scared of storms, he’d flown you out into one.

“What for?” You ask, your big eyes turning to him. So confused and soft that it only makes him feel worse.

“I know you don't like storms, and somehow I got us stuck in one” he grumbles, a little embarrassed. He feels like a shit partner. What kind of Omega was he, leading you out into the wilderness with no food, nothing?

You just smile a little and scootch closer to him until you're pressed along the side of his body “You can't control the weather, Yawntu(my love). No need for apologies” you lean your head on his shoulder and he noses at your temple. Your hair is still all mused and messy from the flight “How did you know i'm afraid of storms?”

At that moment the cave lights up as a blinding flash of lightning strikes and splinters across the sky- followed by a ground shaking clap of thunder.

You jump, a gasp caught in your throat and Neteyam pulls into his lap, hugging you tight in his strong arms.

“I don't know, just a hunch” he teases after a moment, breaking up the tense moment. You laugh but it's forced and you’re stiff as a board. “Can I ask why they scare you so much?”

“What’s not to fear? They’re destructive and uncontrollable- we’re usually protected from the big ones, by the reef you know? But sometimes they slip through. Though far between its always flooding and chaos” you explain and huh, he guesses that makes sense.

Back in the forest he loved storms- but he had always endured them from the comfort of his family Keklu high in the trees, safe from floods and damage.

“This one will not last long, the clouds were low” He reassures in a low voice as he strokes the fly away hairs away from your face “It will pass before you know it, Yawntutsyip(little love)”

“I bet I seem pretty pathetic right now, huh? An Alpha who’s afraid of a little rain” You frame it as a joke, but there’s too much self-depreciation laced in.

“Not at all, it is normal to have fears. Tuk’s an Alpha and she’s scared of all kinds of things”

“She’s also seven years old!” You exclaim aghast at his horrible comparison and he sniggers, brushing your thick hair away from your shoulders so that he can press kisses there.

It’s easy to distract you.

The bubble of conversation that the two of you cocoon yourselves in feels safe and hospitable. It’s one of Neteyam’s favorite things; the way that he can just talk to you. About any and everything. He doesn't care what the subject is, he listens raptly to your words and the minutes fly by.

You end up shifting, lying on your sides, facing one another. Your chin is propped in your hand, elbow on the ground.

The council meeting today had been boring, mostly talks of village construction which he finds amusing that you have such a distaste for. When you mention Vaeyu and his desire for an expansion on his Mauri Neteyam scoffs. One of your dainty browbones raises in question.

“I just…do not like him. At all” Neteyam gripes.

“We can agree on that, but he has high rank so I’m forced to keep cordial with him” You sigh with a roll of your eyes “I fucking loathe politicks”

This is the opening that he’s been waiting for and his curiosity about Vaeuy bubbles to the surface “Do you know him well?”

“Well enough, his parents are close with mine”

“I see…” Neteyam drawls, and he should let the subject drop. Really, he knows. “Is there anything more?”

“Why? Has someone said something to you?” You sit up a bit and yeah. Yeah he knows that there is so much unsaid. “Has he?”

“No, but I have eyes. There’s some sort of history there. He’s extremely disrespectful to you and I’m not sure why- or why it is allowed” Once Neteyam starts it all flows out of him “I keep expecting you to break his jaw and you just allow it. I’m confused, is it just his rank? Because you outrank him in every sense of the word-”

“Neteyam” You sigh, but he keeps going.

“I know that Alpha’s have their own way of handling things that I don't care to understand-

“Neteyam, please”

It’s sharp and cuts his sentence off. He’s ticked off and down right jealous and you look suddenly very upset again.

“I do not ask about your past partners out of respect…and because it really doesn't matter who you were with before you met me” After a moment of tense silence, he chooses his words very carefully “You were with him, right?”

He expects you to get defensive like you have in the past. Maybe sassy. Put him in his place a little bit.

Instead you droop with shame.

“Yes” you admit and he frowns. It’s not that he’s disappointed in your sexual experience, the same as you aren't in his lack there of. But Vaeyu?

“I know what you’re thinking” you roll onto your back, staring at the glowing cave ceiling as you speak “Why that asshole?”

“Well…yeah” Neteyam replies so unsmoothly, he wants to face palm.

“My whole life has been planned out for me and I’ve learned to be okay with that. Really. The only thing I’ve ever wanted for my own is the chance to choose who I give my heart to” Neteyam knows the sentiment and stays quiet, giving you the space to speak.“Vaeyu was always older and his family was close to mine so he didn't treat me as just the chiefs daughter. I thought he might like me…for me”

The tale that you proceed to weave makes him sick to his stomach.

You had been young and naive and preyed upon by someone you trusted. Vaeyu touched you before you long before your Iknimaya and then dropped you when he’d been unable to get you to submit. Neteyam swears to the Great Mother that if he ever gets the chance, he’ll kill that motherfucker.

“I understand him, in a way,” you whisper, still not looking at Neteyam.

You cant see the way his face scrunches all the way up “And what fucking way is that?”

You bite your bottom lip hard and in the dim light, your eyes shine dangerously. “I’m…a lot . I can understand why someone would be hesitant to bond with me. I won't fool myself into thinking that I am everyone's ideal of a mate”

Neteyam’s chest seizes painfully and it feels like a part of him shatters hearing you speak about yourself in such ways. His poor sweetheart. He reaches out- he wants to dig his nails onto you and shake you because how could you think that you are anything less than magnificent?

Instead his fingers gently trace along your arms, before his hand settles on your chest. He presses his palm to the place above your heart.

“Oel ngati kameie” He says the words that his soul had known. Known since that very first one on one training session. He thinks that maybe he'd known before he was born. His past selves must have loved you, too.

You turn to look at him, tears creepingg down your cheeks “You don't have to…”

Neteyam had always thought that he was put on Eywa’eveng to be a good son. Brother. Hunter.

But now suspects that the All Mother may have created him to find you. And love you, wholly. To love every part of you that others had deemed undesirable.

“Oh baby,” He whispers the English endearment,

“Loving you is as easy for me as breathing. It’s not something I have to force myself to do. It is not a hardship. I’m sorry if anyone made you think differently”

His hand goes to your face, still with gentle touches, but you cup it in your own and press down firm, grounding you both. Your eyes are close, as though your bracing against coming impact.

“All I think about is bonding you. I want a life with you, Y/N” That is an understatement. He wants to wake up with you every morning. Wants to hunt with you. Wants to cook every meal. Wants to see you round with his children, wants to fill your shared Mauri to the brim with little ones that have your eyes and your wild streak “Let me show you”

When he lets go of you, it's so that he can reach behind himself and pull his thick shiny braid over his shoulder.

He offers his kuru to you. Because it’s yours already. Has been, just like the rest of him.

Your eyes follow his movements, widening as you realize what his intentions are. Just for a moment, before they go gentle and you reach for your own braid.

The two of you sit up, both propped on your shins. Kuru’s in hand, the lavender tendrils squirm. Reaching blindly in the dark, desperate for connection.

“Are you sure you’re ready,Neteyam, truly?” even then you have to question it and it makes his need to prove his dedication to you that much stronger“I don't want you to regret this”

“I want to be yours” Neteyam states simply because that is his truth. “I don't need a big ceremony, I couldn't care less about things like that, honestly . We’re here, at the Spirit Tree, in front of Eywa. That’s all that matters to me”

The distance between the tendrils is shortened, then closed. They twine together seamlessly, as though they had always meant to.

The bond is sealed and he can’t help but gasp.

He, as most Na'vi, had spent his life thinking about Tsaheylu. What would it be like to share the sacred bond with another? He’d imagined it, daydreamed about it when he got lonely. Listened to stories both scandalous and reverent.

Nothing could prepare him for the reality.

It’s all consuming and overwhelming, euphoria sings through his veins at being connected to you.

You and Neteyam blur.

Two souls into one being. He can feel you inside of him; your strong wild heart beats within his own chest now.

You collapse into each other: Neteyam slumps, leaning into you. Head falling into your bosom, his cheek smushed against your skin. You welcome him, wrap your arms around his neck, cradling him that much closer.

Why had no one told him it felt like this? He should’ve bonded with you the moment he met you. He wants to crawl under your skin and never come out.

“Yours” he slurs, still unable to open his eyes at the onslaught of intense stimulation “I’m finally yours”

Your joy is bright and eclectic, your love all consuming. He can feel the way that you want him. That you yearn for him. To you he is all things; strong and tender. He’s both the inky night with all of its danger and rough uncertainty and the soft gentle rays of first light during sunrise. He is nuanced and dynamic; you do not just see him as an Omgea. You see him as a person; your equal.

“And I am yours” Your voice echos in his head without you having to speak. “All of me, Neteyam. You can have everything”

His fingers trail along your turquoise skin, groping, taking handfuls of you. Your clothing is stripped, slow and revenant. He’s seen you before, gotten to suckle at your breast and taste your sweet cunt, but it feels different now. New. Every inch of bare skin is a revelation to him.

You’re less graceful than him, more hedonistic. It goes straight to his head, is undeniably sexy as you tug at his tweng roughly- yanking it off his body and manhandling him until he lies flat on his back.

“Fuck, Nete” you groan. He knows what he looks like, he can see himself through your eyes. Liked out on the cave floor, his braids sprawled around his head like a halo. His legs are open and his body lax. He’s the perfect picture of submission.

He’d only ever do this for you “You can have everything” he echo’s your words back to you.

Neteyams already rock hard, his cock peeking out from his puffy swollen slit. The sloppy pumps you give him are only precautionary really, making sure that he’s completely unsheathed before you mount him, your thick thighs spread wide, knees caging in his thin waist.

He can feel the warmth that radiates from your center, the apex of your body calling out to him. His hips rise, seeking it out and the tip of his cock spears through your wet pussy lips.

He hisses at the friction and you just smile, grabbing his girth and aiming it right at your pulsating hole “Slow my love, you’re bigger than anything I’ve ever taken”

His cock jumps in your hold and then you’re sinking down on him.

A crack of thunder rattles the cave but Neteyam doesn't hear it, not really. He feels like his head is underwater, his ears filled with fuzz as your body envelopes him. You take him all the way to the hilt, until your pussy kisses his smooth pubic bone.

There is no greater connection a Na’vi can have, he’s closer to you then he had ever been to anyone. Your kuru’s still connected in Tsaheylu- your bodies joined in harmony.

He can't look away from you, his tawny eyes are glued to your pretty face. Your brows are drawn tightly together, your nose scrunching as you pant. When you circle your hips he lets out a whine that's down right pathetic.

It’s like once the both of you get a taste of that friction, all rules are off.

The need for more is maddening, has you both wriggling and clashing. It’s not the sweet loving making that most think comes with the first time. Neteyam loses his virginity in a desperate frenzy.

He may be submissive, comfortable with being that for you now but he will never be passive. He chases not only his pleasure but yours. His hips snap, hard as they can, up and into you. Watching with his mouth hung open as you bounce atop of them in rough little jerks.

“Oh” you can't catch your breath around the trusts that knock the air from your lungs “G-g-great mother!”

He needs more leverage, needs you close. He reaches for the necklace he’d strung for you. So pretty around your throat, swaying in time with your heaving breaths, and tugs you down onto his wide chest, holding you painfully tight there as he continues to pound you from below.

With your face buried in his neck you have access to his sensitive gland, you worry it with your teeth for a moment “Neteyam- please, let me” you speak right into his skin

“Y/N” his voice is desperate and husky in your ear “Do it. Bite me, fucking knot me. Do it” Your fangs sink into his gland as your body locks around him tight and Neteyam goes limp. Literally. His secondary gender takes over completely. He’s been marked and knotted by his Alpha. He doesn't need to move, does not need to think.

He has you for that now. To take care of him.

He comes with a whine shooting off inside of you as you rhythmically pulse around him. He wants it to take- wants his cum to fill up your womb, to have a piece of him living inside you forever.

In the haze he can barely hold his head up, his arms and legs are useless and loose and your a heavy comforting weight above him. He’s too deep in the post-coital bliss to realize that the rain has slowed to a light drizzle or that the fire is close to being out.

You coo at him, rubbing him down with gentle massaging touches “You’re okay, Paskalin(honey). You did so well for me” you nuzzle at the side of his jaw.

Its quiet sept for the crackling of the dying fire and your sweet comforting hums for a while as the two of you lie in a mess of tangled limbs, still just basking in the connection. It takes him a ridiculous amount of time to formulate the thoughts in his head to words,

“Alpha?” he calls for you and you purr at the name.

“I think I’m going into heat”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam had been correct, of course. He could read the signs of his own body well enough. He’d managed to fly the two of you safely back to the village before he’d lost himself to his primal needs.

That was days ago, how many he doesn't know. All he knows is the eclipses come and go as the two of you barricade yourselves in your home. Your bed mat has been turned into a nest of blankets and quilts and cushions- it smells like your combined pheromones and feels like heaven.

The people celebrate the mating of their future chief joyously. Neteyam had proudly displayed his bloody neck, his long hair pulled back so that all could see the mark your canines had left on him.

The mauri is littered with gifs; baskets of fruit and folded leaf pockets full of sweet steamed meat. Jugs of water and juices and wines. Cakes and sweet rice in clay bowls.Tapestries and woven throws. Necklaces and bracelets.

The clan takes turns coming to the closed mouth of their Mauri and saying their prayers, leaving the gifts behind as an offering. As a token of good fortune.

The celebration drums haven't stopped and play in a constant rhythm that flows in through the windows.

Your families had checked in multiple times, leaving their own gifts. Jake and Neytiri had left a large blanket that they and Neteyam’s siblings had scented. The combined scents of love are palpable. He’d added it to the nest. His mother had helped him unbraid his hair before leaving, freeing his long inkky locks.

Your mother and father; Olo’eyktan and Tshaik had brought salves and tonics, medicines to get you through. Your mother kisses both of your heads as she sings a slow, soulful song. There is nothing to do but accept the mating, it had been performed at the Spirit Tree and bleeded by Eywa. Neteyam had almost cried when she patted his head before leaving. He hadn't realized just how desperately he wanted her approval.

His heats had always been dreaded miserable times. He’d dreadfully count down the days to them and then struggle through with only his hand and the potions his Grandmother brewed.

This one is so different from anything he knew. He spends his days doted upon. You spoil him rotten with hand fed bites of food and endless rounds of knotting. With sponge baths and massages.

If all heats were to be like this, he knows that he’d start to greet them with eagerness instead of dread.

He thought he knew about sex. Had spent months exploring with you in your secret spot in the forest; but holy fuck. He really hadn't known shit.

The two of you take each other in ways that Neteyam had not known existed. Hours of tantric love making that ends in him literally collapsing into slumber. Its rough and hard and slow and passionate and everything in between. He’s orgasmed so much that he’d lost count. He’d forgotten what it was like to wear clothes, to be without your touch.

He knows his heat is sadly weaning to an end. The fire in his blood has begun to cool, satiated by his Alpha.

…He still cant keeps his hands to himself.

Touching turns to kissing and kissing turns to you licking every inch of his sweaty bare body. Neteyam is squirmy and sore but lets you get at what you want, his thighs parting easy and wide so that you can slide between them head first.

Fucking Eywa. How had he lived without your mouth for twenty years of his life?

You’re so good with it; all fast talking and sweet kisses. He loves those plush petal like lips so very much.

Especially when they’re wrapped around his cock. You suckle him where he’s hard so perfectly, rubbing his length all over your face before taking it down your throat. Neteyam knows he wont last long, he never can when you do this…

Especially not when you begin to drift lower, mouthing at his sack, pulling at his ballls with careful little nips. Neteyam knots his long fingers in your long thick hair, his hips raising as you give his furled ass hole a wet open mouthed kiss.

It’s still swollen from your previous assault on it; you’d shoved him full so many times in the last week. He’d ridden your face and your fist and your tongue more times then he could count.

He’d never really played with himself there before you, couldn't get over the burn and awkward angle that came with his own fingers. But All Mother, you’re so good at this.

You suckle on the wrinkled skin, getting it all wet and messy and loose as possible with your tongue before you slide your fingers into his tight body. Neteyam groans and throws his head back so hard his neck hurts.

You’re so familiar with his insides now, its all to easy to find his sweet spot. That bundle of nerves hidden far inside that makes him scream every time you touch it.

“Please” Neteyam blubbers as you prod at him “Be gentle, Ma Muntxa(mate). I'm still so sore inside”

You snort, rolling your eyes meanly “You think I’m not? Should I keep my pussy away from you because you hurt it when you jack hammer into me like a man possessed?”

He just whines and clenches down on your dainty fingers.

“This hole is mine, Neteyam. It’s mine to do with what I please. If I want to lick it, fuck it. Spread it open and watch it flutter for me. I will, and you’ll let me, won't you sweet Omega?” You speak to him in a tone that’s all Alpha and it makes his core shake.

He’d always loathed being called by his designation, but he adores it when you call him your Omega now. He just bites at his lower lip and nods.

You’re finger fucking is slow and hard; a prostate masssage that leaves him shaking and gasping. His chest heaving so hard that his lungs hurt as you work him inside out. Internal orgasms feel different, they’re more intense and yet his body can push out multiple at a time.

You watch him dirty his own pretty striped belly over and over with his own milky cum.

By the time his third orgasm rocks through him his thighs are shaking and muscles are cramping up. He’s running away from your touch, his hips shifting away from the finger fucking at every turn. The oversensitivity has his ears twitching and tails whipping under him. All he can do is hold on for the ride.

“Enough” he begs for mercy, his tone high and whiny and nasally from the overstimulated tears escaping the corners of his eyes and rolling down his temples and into his hairline “I feel like I’m gonna pass out. I cant- I cant”

“Awe but look, baby. You just got fully hard again. You dont want to try to fuck me?” You chide with a tut of your tongue as you pull away from his groin. Wiping your messy mouth on the back of your arm as you pout.

How is he the one that is in heat, and he still can't manage to keep up with you? He gives a hysterical, non believing huff of laughter “I do not think I can. You broke me”

You rub his calf for a moment, getting that contracting knot out before sitting back on your haunches “I dont know, I think you’re underestimating yourself”

Your movements are so fluid, a taunting teasing dance for only his eyes as you arrange your body infront of him in a way that he never in his wildest imagination could’ve imagined.

You face away from him, on your hands and knees and then drop your chest low until the whole top half of your body is pressed against the bedding. Your ass is still high up in the air, jutting out in a clear offering. When your thick tail moves, revealing the plump slick lips of your cunt and the tiny tight ring of your asshole

Neteyam’s eyes almost fall out of his head.

You’re presenting. A move so submissive that most Alphas look down on it. Only Omegas and Betas present. What you’re doing for him is utterly unheard of.

You reach behind yourself, your small hand tugging at the thigh jiggle of your asscheek, spreading even further “It’s all yours, Neteyam. Come take care of me”

He groans, hie eyes rolling as he bites hard at his knuckle “What am I going to do with you, woman?”

But he’s already zeroing in, ready to give you exactly what you please.

“Love me forever” you suggest innocently with a giggle.

“Ay” Neteyam’s chest hurts, so heavy and full, with all of his feelings for you. How is he supposed to keep them contained in his body? He loves you like he’s never loved anything before “I think I’ll do just that”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This chapter was the most exhausting fucking thing i’ve ever writtem my GOD. Between the smut and all of the emotion? Yeah it almost took me out.

Do we like super long chapters? Or should I separate them into multiple little ones?

I def expressed some real feelings here through Y/N, that feeling of not being enough? Fucking painful and we’ve all been there.

I also hate rain and was the victim of flooding this year so that was a nice release lol.

Vaeyu is a creeper and better sleep with one eye OPEN.

Neteyam and Akemi are such a fun duo and I can't wait to explore them in the future.

PLEASE GIVE ME SOME FEED BACK ON THIS ONE GUYS. It mentally drained me and i need replenishment.

Next time we get to see her rut!

As usual I wanna thank my Omegaverse besties for keeping me sane and inspired! @cinetrix @tiredmamaissy @tru-blubelle @imperihoe @eywascall

#neteyam smut #neteyam x reader smut #omega neteyam #omega neteyam x alpha reader #neteyam sully smut #omegaverse neteyam #mdni

512 notes · View notes

armpirate · 8 months

Note

OMGG!!! The only one was so amazing just wanna say thank u again 💗

Also can u pls also make a part story of them when YN gets pregnet and jk reaction?!!! 😬 also have them smut like they say sex with while pregnet are more better than it was , idk how far its true but well its up to u how it will ended up , well dont mind my requset just do what u like, even if u didnt want its okay ✌

MASTERLIST

Full story

pairing: TheOnlyOne!JK x fem!reader || Mafia

w.c.: 3.6k

Warnings: mention of vomit, smut, dirty talk, pregnancy sex, voyeurism, female masturbation

Aprox. time of reading: 16 minutes

The environment was too heavy. The loud voices around the table, the fake laughs, the momentary shouts to give more emphasis to what they were saying... and certainly the way your stomach felt like you had been rolling on yourself for hours didn't help. Your husband's hand never left your thigh under the table, aware of the way your frown was slightly furrowed and your lips twisted in disgust.

"Doll, are you okay?" Jungkook asked for the third time that night, leaning over you to whisper in your ear.

"Yeah, I don't know" you shook your head, gulping thick. "I think I might be getting sick or something. It's okay" you patted his hand, caressing the tattoos on his fingers.

Jungkook smiled, taking your answer before he laid a kiss on your exposed shoulder and joined one of the conversations back.

It was so weird.

For a few days, you had been feeling queasy, losing appetite over food you'd have lost your mind over months back, feeling dizzy at random moments of the day -especially in the morning. It was shocking how your stamina seemed to last less, to the point that you'd fall asleep in places you would've never thought of. It wasn't like being in the hotel was the most entertaining thing for you, but it certainly wasn't as boring for you to end up sleeping on Jungkook's desk while you worked on some documents.

As much as you had tried to find that little thing that might've made your stomach upset, and influenced the way your body was working, you couldn't find anything out of usual.

"Earth calling Y/n" Jin joked, bringing you back to the conversation. "Are we so boring for you to ignore us?" he he reproached, pointing at you with the fork.

"I don't even know why you're surprised. She married Jungkook, at the end of the day" you heard Yoongi tease him back, licking his lips before he gave a sip of his drink filled with wine.

Jungkook's grip on your thigh tightened, drawing your eyes on him just so you could assure him for the fourth time that night that you were okay. Your soft smile was all he needed to relax again, and move back to allow the waiters to serve the food in front of you.

You didn't know if it was the way the fish was cooked, but you felt disgusted by its odor as soon as the plate was settled ahead of you.

"Y/n, are you okay? You look a bit pale" dared to ask, giving you a concerned look.

"Yes, I'm okay. It's just..." the sentence was interrupted by a gag reflex that you managed to stop before it was too obvious. Although you could only hold on to the noise from it, because the uncomfortable feeling stayed there for a second until you felt your stomach preparing for the second one "I'm sorry".

The chair squeaking under you, at the sudden movement to drag it away from the table to run away from there, made everyone look up to you. Until then, most of the people around the oval table were minding their business, but you made sure that attention would fall on Jungkook after your dramatic exit.

There wasn't anything as distressing as feeling the bile going up your throat until you were forced to take it out, kneeling in front of a toilet in the nearest restroom to the private room you all were in. For a few seconds, you dealt with your bangs and some locks making their way in front of your face, while you tried to keep the balance, until someone else got in charge of them. You'd recognize that gentle touch anywhere else, as he picked the hair that was bothering you with one hand and comforted you with the other on your back.

One last gag, one last spit, and you thought you were done. Your breathing was a bit faster from the effort, your eyes felt teary and you didn't want to imagine how bad you probably looked at that moment.

He handed you some paper, so you could clean your mouth as he flushed the toilet and waited for you to recover. He was squatting next to you, giving you that worried look that you recognized. Only one dangerous word from you, and he'd be setting the whole place on fire.

"Don't give me those eyes" you warned him, sighing as you sat on the top of the toilet.

"What eyes?" his tone sounded exhausting, and his body language was giving away how frustrated he actually was when he tilted his head.

"The eyes of someone who's about to kill somebody"

"Good, because I want to kill somebody" he replied. "You've been feeling bad all night. Or, let's better say, you've done well at pretending you were fine until now" he clicked his tongue. "What did you eat? Did you drink or eat something out of home? Did any of the food you ate this week taste weird?" he started asking, placing a hand subtly on your knee.

"I promise I'm okay" you insisted.

But that sentence most probably translated into something else in his brain. Jungkook stood up, extending his hand in front of you to help you get up.

Taking a deep breath, you got up from the place where you were sitting, feeling his fingers intertwining yours as he walked you outside. But instead of turning left to go back to the private area, he turned right, walking towards the exit. "Jungkook, the dinner..." you tried to stop him.

"Fuck the dinner" he huffed, "I'm taking you to the hospital".

It didn't matter how many times you insisted you were okay, his paranoia was winning the argument against you, and the slightest chance of you being poisoned some time in the week made all of his alarms blast at full volume in his head.

Jungkook insisted on you getting checked the first time you fell asleep next to him during one of the meetings. The next time was when you tripped on your feet when you went dizzy for a second. And that night was the last straw he needed to put a stop to your stubbornness.

You hated hospitals. The smell, the feeling of never being okay... you just couldn't stand being in those places. And the fact that you were dragged to one had you fuming all the way there, even if Jungkook tried to convince you that it was something you needed. It didn't matter how hard you wanted to stay mad, one look into his sparkly rounded eyes as he whispered that he'd feel relieved if he saw everything was okay and you were fumbled.

The doctor's first words after you got your tests done got you and Jungkook looking at each other, confused.

"When was the last time you had your period?" he asked, looking at you over his pasty squared glasses.

You pressed your lips together, trying to remember, and realizing you should've had your period two weeks back. It wasn't like your period was regular, but you never had delays of more than a week.

"A month ago" you whispered, with your voice lowering with every letter you pronounced.

"Everything is fine with your body, mrs. Jeon" he scoffed. "Really fine, actually".

As he handed you the papers with all of the results, you were sure your knowledge in Korean was deceiving you, inviting Jungkook to read them himself when he was aware of the shocked expression on your face.

"Positive" he whispered.

"Hmm. Yeah, it seems like that food that didn't sit well is actually a baby" the doctor joked. "Congratulations" he celebrated for the two of you, "or I'm sorry, I don't know".

You walked out first, bowing to him as you tried your best to walk on those heels when you were barely able to keep up with the weight of your own body. Jungkook read the results as he walked behind you, unbelieving of what his eyes were seeing.

"Y/n" he called you.

The tears in your eyes started rolling down your cheeks as you turned to him, being the only way to make that pressure on your chest feel a bit lighter. He hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around your body while you held onto his waist and hid your face on his chest.

"Shh" he tried to calm you down, moving his fingers through your locks.

"I'm pregnant" you whispered within hiccups. "We're going to have a kid".

If it weren't because, after three years of marriage, he knew you so well, he'd have thought that was bad news for you. Jungkook smiled against your temple, hugging you tighter and encouraging you to sob a bit louder.

Getting pregnant was an idea you got rid from throughout the years, it stopped being a topic of discussion between you two after several arguments where you felt insecure and undeserving of him, while he fought to show you the opposite. You had gone through different therapies, only to end up with the same disappointment every time. So seeing that "Positive" in your results was the closest you had ever been to witnessing a miracle.

"We're pregnant" you moved back, repeating it while looking him in the eyes.

"I know" Jungkook nodded, moving the locks away from your face and wiping the tears away as he stared into your bright eyes.

He had known you for quite some time, but he swore he hadn't seen the way his universe reflected in your eyes as clearly as it did that night.

You were lying in the middle of your bed, looking up at him as he joined you in your bedroom after taking a shower and changing his suit for some comfortable clothes. You managed to deal with some of the shared responsibility that came along with Bangtan, until your belly started to grow enough to make it impossible for you to barely move. For your safety, and his mental peace, Jungkook came up with the idea of you staying at home -with him only leaving whenever he was actually needed somewhere. But, most of the time, it was Jungkook orbiting around you and pleasing your needs before you could even be vocal about them.

That day, he had to take a morning trip to Seoul, forcing him to spend most of his day outside -which translated in him being present through texts or video calls several times throughout the day, until he managed to go back home.

He sat behind you, extending his legs around your hips so you were almost trapped in his body when his chest rested on your back and his chin on your shoulder.

"How are my two precious treasures doing?" his voice sounded muffled against your skin, with the vibrations tickling on your skin and making your body squirm with a giggle.

"Treasure number one is okay" you assured about yourself, "While treasure number two keeps making it clear he wants to be as a restless ass as his father" you joked.

"That's my boy" he cheered, receiving a playful jab on his stomach from you.

Still smiling, Jungkook leaned to kiss the curve of your shoulder over one of his oversized t-shirt, slowly moving up to your neck. You know he didn't do it with any intention of taking it further, they were more like caring pecks, but your body reacted to them as if he had dug through one of the most erogenous corners in your body.

"What?" he inquired, looking at you over your shoulder.

"Nothing" you tried to shrug it off, caressing his hands that almost covered your whole belly.

"Is it because I did..." he gave another kiss, making sure his lips would be in contact with your skin as he reached the collar of his t-shirt "this?".

"Kook" you warned him.

You didn't know if it were going crazy, or if it was because Jungkook had barely touched you that way ever since the belly started growing a significant amount, that made him be concerned of the slightest move you could make -which translated in more than two months going no further than some make out sessions that always left you over the edge. And while you appreciated how caring he was, it was driving you insane the distance he set for you two.

"Don't start something you won't finish" you asked him, tilting your head.

"Hmm, who said I won't finish it?" he challenged, rubbing his lips over the arch of your ear. After dropping a kiss on the sensitive skin behind it, he whispered "I know I said I would try to keep my hands to myself, but I can't do it anymore".

He moved his legs under yours, hooking your knees with his to pull them apart.

"How bad do you want me?" you teased, encouraged by the way his hands advanced over your inner thighs at a slow pace.

"Well, you have no idea of the many times I've ended up jerking off in the bathroom after seeing you naked, I think that should...".

A loud chuckle interrupted him, having you pushing him and kicking his arm "It'd have been enough just saying that you want me bad".

"I want you so bad, baby" he purred against your lips.

Shutting the moan that was coming out of your mouth at the sudden touch of his cold fingers with your folds, Jungkook linked your lips together. Your hips reacted automatically to his touch, grinding against his digits when they found their way to your clit, and that gentle rub made you ascend to the seventh heaven, squirming at every small touch he was giving you. Thatconstant sway of hips was also pushing him to the limit, feeling your ass pressing against his hard dick every time you tried to reach for tighter fictions against his fingerprints.

"You're so wet" he mumbled against your lips, tracing your lips with his tongue before he kissed you again. "How did I even think going without fucking you for months?".

"Because you're a dumbass" you gasped, back arching at the sudden throb in your core.

"Are you going to cum so fast?" his mocking tone only added fuel to the fire that was starting in your lower stomach, and that had you pulling the sheets underneath your feet away.

"Kook, please" the barely powerful fear of him leaving you hanging had you begging before you had to, making him scoff.

"I got you, babe" he assured, lowering his left hand from your neck to one of your breasts, softly pressing the palm of his hands against the hard nipple. "Cum for me, hmm? Get yourself ready, because you'll be coming on my cock next".

His lewd words were the final push you needed to let yourself go, embracing that desperate feeling that you were craving so much for the past few weeks, losing any type of control all over your body and letting the pleasure speak by itself when your back arched against his chest in sync with a whine.

You still thought Jungkook was messing with you, and that he'd help you clean yourself and change clothes as he helped you stand up and started undressing you. But his fingers moved over your skin as if he wanted to set you on fire again, rubbing the reverse of his digits every time he tried to pull one of the fabrics away.

"We'll be careful" his eyes looked deep into yours, as if he were promising his reflection that you'd both take it easy, rather than you. "We don't want to hurt Ujin".

You had many questions, started by that name, but you thought it was something to discuss later and keep the focus on what you two wanted to do.

Jungkook guided you back towards the bed, helping you move over the mattress until you laid on your side. He joined next to you right after, pinching your chin and kissing your forehead before he moved your legs over hip.

He had been deep diving for too long on the Internet about what were the safest sex positions, afraid that the moment of you two being unable to hold back your needs came.

Your pussy clenched at the first feeling of his tip against your folds, feeling your clit throb only at the idea of being stretched out by him again.

"If it hurts, or if it bothers you, I'll stop" he squeezed the skin under your chin, warning you.

Your lip was trapped under your upper teeth as he slowly rammed into you, stretching your walls inch by inch until you two were linked together completely, announcing it with a heavy gasp. Jungkook warned you with his eyes, announcing his movements before you nodded.

Feeling him go all the way out, to pound back into you as slowly had to be one of the most erotic thoughts you had ever felt, feeling all the hairs in your body raise whenever his tip teased its way out to then rub against the deepest spot it could reach in your guts.

His thumb kept tracing circles on your skin, holding you by your knees while his other hand was holding the curve on your neck softly, assuring himself that you were comfortable in that position, while you sneaked yours at the top of his head, playing with his hair as you felt the pleasure building up, closer to blow at any moment as his thrust sped up.

"Does it feel good?" his voice sounded raspy, yet he gave you such a gentle look that made your pussy and your heart throb at the same time.

"Yes, don't stop" you begged, pressing your palm against your clit.

"I missed so much how warm you feel around me, doll" Jungkook moaned, moving his head back for a moment before his eyes were back on yours. "You always take me so good".

With a more firm grip on your neck, he made sure your body didn't bounce too harshly for you to end up hurt, controlling the power of his thrusts. Changing the angle of his hips, he moved at the same steady pace, rubbing his tip against one particular spot that made your toes instantly curl.

You wouldn't last too long.

The touch of his hands, the sound of his groans and moans, and how his dick stretched out so well had you gripping the pillow cover beneath his head. And Jungkook loved that look on your face, that particular expression you made when you were ready to give him the world and everything he could ask for, too drunk in pleasure to think straight, giving you a tiny glimpse of how he felt around you every single day since he met you.

Your walls took him in, clenching around his length tight as if you didn't want him to leave ever again, at the same time your eyes rolled to the back and your jaw clenched with a prolonged moan. He went right after you, spilling his seed deep inside your cunt, feeling more connected to you than ever before.

As you two recovered, Jungkook stayed hugged to you, playing with your hair and smiling among shaky breaths.

"If you take so long to lay a hand on me ever again, I'll file for divorce" you joked, with a daydreaming smile curving on your face.

That wasn't what you were screaming when you two bursted inside the emergency room in the hospital, to later be dragged on a wheel chair to your room. In fact, you kept screaming how you wouldn't allow him to lay a hand on you ever again, or how unfair it was that you were the only one going through all the pain while all he did was stand there. You kept squirming once you were moved to a bed, groaning and whining at the intense pain in your lower stomach that was only preparing you for the pain you'd end up going through once Ujin decided to step into the real world and stop living peacefully inside of you.

Although it all lost sense, it all didn't matter, it was as if that pain had only been a nightmare when the nurse wrapped your baby in a towel and handed it to you, followed up close by his protective father's gaze until he was lying in your arms.

You remembered the way you cried when you were first told you were pregnant, and how you got so emotional whenever you saw him moving through that tiny television next to you, but it still didn't feel real. All those months you didn't get your hopes up, you didn't believe it'd end up with you holding your baby tight against your chest, while Jungkook snaked a hand behind your neck and his palm gently covered Ujin's head.

"His hands are so tiny" you sobbed, moving your index finger over his tiny hand. "He's so tiny".

"You made it, babe" Jungkook kissed the top of your head.

"We made it" you rubbed your head against his cheek, unable to control the tears from falling down at how full you were feeling in that particular moment.

The nurse smiled at you, standing at one side of your bed before asking "Do you know how you will name him?"

Jungkook looked down at you, receiving a proud smile before you took a breath and answered: "Our little blessing, Ujin".

#dirty talk #armpirate #request #fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #mafia!au #The Only One #reader insert

131 notes · View notes

em-dash-press · 1 year

Text

Why Creative Writing Might Make You Anxious (Even If You Love It)

When I sit down to write, sometimes I get so anxious that my stomach gets queasy. It can happen even when I’m wondering if I’ll have time to write today.

Anxiety affects even the best writers, so let’s talk about why your favorite hobby might also put you on edge.

Your Stories Involve Topics You Care About

Great stories always have centralized themes. Your theme drives your plot, informs your character’s choices, and draws readers in.

They’re essential, but they can also be deeply meaningful. You might feel the weight of being a voice on the topic, even if you’re talking about it through a goofy or unrealistic story.

Solution: Remember that you’re continuing a conversation, not presenting yourself as the all-knowing leader on any given theme. Give your perspective and thoughts on the theme through your work. Your unique take is why your readers will pick up your work.

Your Work Relates to Your Past or Present

Inspiration comes from anywhere. You might get an idea while walking the dog, but you can also think of stories when reflecting on your past or present.

Sometimes that means opening up parts of our history that wounded us. They might still feel like pressing on a bruise, even if you’re only writing a story for yourself.

Solution: Be gentle with yourself if you’re writing about a deeply personal topic, event, subject, or period in your life. Recognize that your anxiety is likely your brain trying to protect you, not sabotage you. If you can’t let it wash over you and continue your writing, consider starting therapy before writing your short story or novel. OpenPath is a great affordable option, along with sliding-scale therapists in your town. You might need to process that sensitive subject before you can write about it.

Your Story Feels Complicated

Longer stories can be overwhelming, even if they’re stories we desperately want to finish. They might involve more plotlines than you’re used to handling or a bigger cast of characters you need to develop.

We grow as writers by taking on new creative challenges. A few things I want to remind you if you feel like this is the source of your creative writing anxiety:

There’s no rush to finish a story. Ever.

Give yourself extra time when you’re trying something new. You wouldn’t expect a new runner to finish a marathon in 2 hours.

Take breaks to reset your energy, especially when you feel frustrated or anxious.

It’s okay to not finish a story.

Read that one again.

It really is okay to not finish a story.

You might come back to it in a year or two or three when your plot management or character development skills are better. It’s never a mark of failure to leave a draft in a to-be-finished folder.

Solution: Read through the bullet points above. Be gentle with yourself. Practice in shorter story forms, even with the same characters. You always have the judgment-free choice to finish a story or delete it entirely.

You Don’t Have a Plot Outline

Free writing is great. It’s a completely valid way to write short stories and novels. Some people excel at it. Others need an outline.

You might feel anxious about your current writing sessions because you don’t know where your story is going or how it will end. It’s a normal thing to experience and doesn’t make you any less of a writer—even if creating a plot outline changes your writing method temporarily.

Solution: Acknowledge that it’s okay to change your writing process sometimes. Every story needs a different support structure. Write your story idea in a single sentence, then expand on it in a paragraph. You can transform that into a bullet-point list or outline that makes writing the story more manageable.

You Haven’t Been Writing For a While

Some writers dream of having the time to write every day. Others like to write, but wouldn’t want to spend hours every day with their latest draft.

No matter what you prefer, sometimes returning to the craft of writing can spark anxiety if it’s been a while since your last creative venture. Whether it’s motivated by guilt, embarrassment, or shame, you’re not alone. It’s a typical form of creative anxiety and it’s something you can absolutely handle.

Solution: Give yourself some slack. Writing routines always change. Sometimes life draws us away from our creative writing for months or years at a time. You’re still a writer. Whatever your story becomes will be valid.

You Have a Loud Inner Critic

We’ve all been there. You’re trying to write but your inner critic is holding you back. You might want to jump into editing so you only continue with a perfect draft. Maybe you’re constantly polishing your world-building or character details.

The pressure naturally translates into anxiety. It’s okay to step away from your work if this anxiety makes you uncomfortable. You can always return when your inner critic is distracted or you feel more naturally confident.

Solution: Ask that inner critic to take a backseat. They’ll give you a powerful advantage when you move from the writing phase into the editing phases. Linework and structural editing can always happen later. But to reach that point, you need a draft. Preferably, your worst draft possible. Go wild with your writing—that’s what a first draft is for.

-----

It’s okay to love creative writing and also feel anxious about it. I think the only time anxiety didn’t affect my writing was when I was a kid and had never received criticism, constructive or otherwise.

Be gentle with yourself as you reflect on your anxiety triggers and potential solutions. You’re in the for the long run. Sustainable help will be your best source of help.

#writeblr #writing encouragement #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #writing anxiety #creative writing

490 notes · View notes

soobadnoonecanstopher · 7 months

Text

Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 21.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (Mature)

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: smut. what if we made a drunk sex tape. The next chapter will be the end.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Links: Masterlist The Letters (Bonus Chapter)

Tag: @his-mochi-cheeks

Your perspective on the other side of that patio door was a haze. You were drunker than you thought. Your quick stop at the empty bathroom just inside of that patio didn’t help sharpen your mind much.

The journey back to the grand ballroom, back to the party, had an odd buzz of excited whispering from groups of guests that you passed. Everywhere and all around you heads were leaned in close as they all giggled and whispered about some event that had transpired; some shocking party scandal. As you drew closer to your particular group of people you began to notice an occasional pair of eyes glance in your direction and just as quickly those eyes would look away.

The buzzing through your veins seemed once fully attributed to the alcohol suddenly felt just a little less warming and more chilling.

They were all very thrilled with whatever the news was. Highly amused in a sort of rubbernecker kind of way. Whatever had happened had no like effect on their lives. Whatever had happened would only ruin someone else’s life or worse, their career. You tried to make longer eye contact. You tried to gague what sort of a scandal it was this time. All the while wondering if you had done enough in your life to be on God’s good graces. If the $25 paycheck deduction for the local animal shelter had bought you enough good karma to save you this time.

With their whispered giggles and their snickering body shaking secrets group after group you passed seemed to be incredibly worked up as the gossip seemed to be spreading through the hotel like wildfire.

That chill in your veins had spread and brought a sinking feeling inside of your stomach. You felt made just a little queasy by it.

What if someone saw.

What if a right place right time eye witness saw you and Baekhyun out there on that patio just now.

What if a party guest out on a smoke break just happened to be walking back up the sidewalk at the exact right time and happened to look up at the exact right time and happened to recognize your super sparkly dress or his blue satin suit and what if, what if, what if someone in one of the apartment homes directly across from patio was putting their child to bed after a bedtime story and as they were drawing the curtains to shut out the nighttime lights they happened to catch the both of you in full on, middle school textbook visual description of heavy petting, just so happened to know a guest at this very party who just so happened to have seen you both walk out there toward that patio and what if, what if, what if a phone call was made or a picture was sent and they put it together that you and Baekhyun had been sleeping together all this time; even and especially when you were his direct supervisor and in charge of things like his schedule and his bonuses and his promotions and his performance review oh my god his performance review the one you got fucked on top of and ruined and then directed him, as his supervisor to forge just as you had directed him as his supervisor to engage in sexual intercourse on company property on company time you were at least guilty of time theft and extortion and sexual harassment and fraud. Charges like that, even with the best lawyers, even if you beat the charges, your reputation would be ruined and you could face thousands upon thousands of fines and lawsuits and maybe even go to jail. Could you survive prison?

You weren’t the type to brag. This was a reality of your situation. But fucking hell, you were too pretty for prison.

Phones were buzzing on tables; lighting up around the darkened space like twinkling Christmas lights and you suddenly remembered you had one of those too and you pulled it out of the clutch bag you miraculously still had with you.

Your screen was lit up with notifications. Several of your work group chats had several unread messages and the messages were still coming in.

Your eyes scanned the incoming words desperate to find the subject of all of this mess.

‘No way!’

‘Omg I can’t believe it.’

‘That’s fucking crazy!’

You’d come into this too late. You quickly unlocked your phone and began scrolling up through the apparently bombshell that began all of this commotion and after several seconds of scrolling you came across the beginning.

‘!!!!!’

It started with an appropriate commotion and the next message instantly had you exhale a long sigh from deep within your lungs that seemed to take ages for all off the air to fully exit your body.

‘Chet just got dragged out by security and he’s being arrested for peeping in the ladies bathroom. Someone said he was laying on the floor taking pictures up skirts! What a fucking creep!!’

The relief felt like a light switch was flipped; with the instantaneous flood through your chest.

As quickly as the relief came a different worry. Despite the answer to your question being answered you still scrolled line by line through the flood of messages as your team members and other people in the agency discussed the news with ravenous delight. Word after word your eyes searched for his name. You searched for any possible connected to your name even if you had your doubts that these people would suddenly forget that you were also in this group chat if they wanted it start badmouthing you and spreading rumors about the incidentals behind why Chet happened to be in that hallway outside of the ladies room in the first place and who it was that might have been spotted having that big drunken loser onto the floor of that ladies room; surely they wouldn’t be doing that sort of gossiping in this group chat.

You were a manager but you hadn’t always been one. You knew for a fact that the lower tier employees had their own group chats and even amongst themselves they most certainly had broken off into even smaller chats where all of the juiciest bits of gossip were spread around.

You’d reached the end of the messages and the occasional buzz of your phone and signaled the arrival of something else was just a mirror of the same sort of sentiment.

‘He always gave me a bad feeling.’

‘Glad I never went on that date with him.’

‘I can’t believe this.’

‘He should be fired. Those woman would have to work with him again.’

This wouldn’t work. There was one person who you would ask to make sure your name and Baekhyun’s name hadn’t been connected to this in any way.

You found Sandi laughing and chatting near the appetizers and small bites tables.

Oh …food. You’d forgotten about food. Your drunken head swam and your stomach growled the moment you saw it and you slinked up silently right beside Sandi with your own little plate ready to grab something to eat.

“Sandi,” you whispered harshly beside her and she jumped and placed a palm over her chest, “I need to talk to you.”

“Jesus—” She groaned with her eyes closed, “someone should put a bell on you.” She mumbled under her breath.

You popped something that looked to be potato based into your mouth and chewed, swallowing quickly so you could drill her for what she might know.

You’d filled up your little plate and grabbed her by the elbow, ignoring the weird yelp she made when you pulled her behind you to some quiet corner where you could hear everything she said while also looking deep into her eyes for signs that she was leaving anything out.

“What happened with Chet?” You looked into her face as you said it and she looked back at you with the slightest pause in her words and mannerism before she actually started talking. When she did move it was to narrow her eyes and she looked over your face and then down over the length of you once before her eyes were back looking in yours.

“Maybe I need to ask you what happened with Chet.”

You looked down at your plate and popped another potato thing into your mouth, quickly grabbing another one because goddamn these were delicious, and you shrugged your face every so slightly as you chewed. You let your eyes land inside hers for a few seconds but then looked away again. You weren’t sure exactly why this woman was able to read you so well but you were quickly melting before her weirdly knowing gaze.

”What happened with Chet?” She said again in a quieter whisper and you sighed in genuine defeat knowing that this was going to take some explaining. She was going to need the whole story from the over the top flirtatious hugs as a greeting that he always insisted on, to the overheard conversation of Chet’s plans to basically conquer you for the sake of his ego and nothing else, as well as the way he seemed to feel that he was somehow owed something from you when you’d promised nothing and never had even given him anything more than professional politeness.

You had found a quiet place for this and had each grabbed fresh drinks and once you got talking you could feel her growing more and more irritated by that man’s terrible behavior. You heard the quiet gasps of surprise and her genuine laughter when you recounted the mop-water incident. You did your best to gloss over the entangled involvement of your boyfriend in this situation; but there was honestly no way around it when you got to the events of this evening that led up to Chet being outright arrested for sexually deviant behavior and the weird guilty feeling that bubbled up inside of your stomach when you thought that maybe he might be punished for something he didn’t even really do; not really.

Yes he’d grabbed you by the wrist and your wrist was still sore right now from it. You didn't know what his plans were with you. You didn't know if the man was just stupid or if he was actually dangerous but you definitely didn’t feel good about him being blamed for something he hadn’t actually done.

Sandi was giggling. You were feeling conflicted and she was too overcome with laughter to be of any actual help. Drunk Sandi was fun for scheming and gossiping, but you were looking for actual help here. When she finally got her giggles under control enough to talk, she did and with her words came the familiar relief you often felt when you shared any sorts of your worries with this woman.

“He wasn’t arrested. He was escorted out by hotel security, yeah, but I never saw any police. I think they just all got excited, you know how rumors are.”

“And you didn’t hear my name or,” you lowered your voice significantly and leaned in closer to her, “Baekhyun’s name connected in any way?”

She was giggling again, leaning closer as she whispered just as you had, “No, I didn’t hear his name, or your name, but Ma’am,” she emphasized the title with an over the top seriousness in her voice, “the way he looks at you…when he’s dancing with you…”

Her eyes had gone wide as her words trailed off and her mouth hung open briefly before she lifted a hand to fan her face dramatically. You had to cover your own face as the snort of giggles broke free from your chest.

“I don't know how anyone would survive that. You are strong. And I’ve never felt more single and more alone than I did watching you two dance — ohhh I’m getting mad just thinking about it.” She stood up with her empty glass and reached out her other hand for you to grab so you could come with her, “Come on, we need another drink.”

You grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her close to you so you could walk arm in arm with all of your silly drunken secrets and shared giggles. Both of your steps were a bit unsteady but together you at least had someone to lean on.

“You know you really are the most beautiful woman here tonight,” you whispered into her ear and she snorted out loud.

“Shut up. I look like a potato. Did you really have to go all out like this? Can’t you consider the rest of us?”

“If you are a potato then you are my loveliest sweet potato,” you leaned a head on her shoulder and she snorted and playfully pushed your head off. The rejection, even if playful, it only made you grip her arm tighter and lay your head on her shoulder more forcefully.

“No, my sweet potato!”

“He better appreciate how lucky he is.” She remarked seriously with a severe look down in your direction and you looked up at her curiously and her serious expression softened and grew into a reticent grin. “I’ll kill him if he hurts you.”

Again and again, Sandi was on your side. Again and again she was such a good friend you even played with the idea that maybe this wonderful woman who you always thought of so fondly might very well be your best friend.

“Sweet Potato,” you called up to her loud enough so that you were sure she heard you call her. She didn’t really respond other than a Quick Look. You gave her a little shake, “Sweet Potato Sandi,” you called again and she laughed and said a very drawn out and extremely informal, “whaaaat?”

“Will you be my Maid of Honor?”

Your question stopped her forward steps and she turned with surprised eyes to look at you. You straightened your spine and looked her right in the face with confidence and sincerity and after a few moments her shoulders sagged and she lifted her eyebrows with a tiny shrug on her face.

“Me?”

You nodded in earnest.

“Okay,” she said quietly with the slightest pink growing across her cheeks and the tiniest smile that fought to break free on her lips.

Eventually though, the smile grew wider and she giggled out an excited squeal that you quickly mirrored with a quick little jump up and down while holding hands in delight.

“I can’t believe you’re getting married!” She whispered through the excitement.

“I can’t believe I’m getting married!” You said just a little too loudly. She quickly shushed you and laughed noisily to hide what you had just said.

“Who’s getting married?” A familiar voice called out over the loud music from the dance floor. Marci had overheard and she was smiling wide with glassy eyes and a curious yet very drunk slur deep within her voice.”

“My sister—”

“My sister,” both you and Sandi said at the exact same time and Marci’s eyes bounced from your eyes to Sandi’s eyes and back to your eyes before her smile sagged and she looked up into the space above her head as she tried to make sense of what she was being told.

“Her sister,” she said and “Her sister,” you said in unison and you had to cover your mouth with your hand to keep from spitting out in laughter. Marci just blinked at you both with a sort of far away and very, very deep look of genuine and hopeless confusion.

“Whose sister?” She finally said and you leaned forward shouting over the music with a wide smile and you nodded your head excitedly, “yes!” You declared, purposefully deceitful and confusing.

You would be sure to add it to your list of many sins.

“Let’s dance!” You shouted and you and Sandi grabbed her hand and pulled the poor girl deep within the chaos of the heat and bodies of people dancing to the thumping beat of the dance song.

Time was a blur of songs and laughter. Occasionally, someone’s hands and someone else’s body bumped up against you.

You had somewhere deep inside of you, a quietly nagging voice that did its absolute best to remind you of things. Proper things. Managerial things like respect and your position as a person to admire and trust amongst these people. Sandi aside, most if these people had to take your instructions at face value and answer your questions, and at times respond to your professional demands. You knew deep down that you could not sever that image of yourself.

And you thought you did pretty well. You laughed with them and danced with them and shared in the joy of the evening while still keeping whatever parts of your mind you needed to keep intact for the sake of the dynamics of the team.

You experienced a few moments of control. You had a handle on it for a couple of songs worth of time; you began to trick yourself into thinking you could handle anything, even while drunk.

But when you saw Baekhyun, a switch was flipped.

He was with some friends; the same ones as before. A group of rowdy young men you hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting yet but he seemed quite close with them.

You saw them laughing together, exchanging in some sort of noisy banter; it felt quite different from the playful way he acted with you; this behavior seemed much more daring, much more primal. If you had to compare it with something you’d aliken it to a group of almost feral, unsupervised boys left to their own devices on a playground together. Had they been younger, you would not have been surprised at all to see blood drawn.

One such ‘game,’ (and you hesitated to use such a word as there were discernible no rules) involved messing with some party favor on the table in a way that was never intended to be used. The result was one unsuspecting member of the group, who hadn’t been paying enough attention to his friends given the amount of danger he should have felt by sitting beside them, this one poor man was smacked right in the back of the head. At least it didn’t seem too painful of a prop to turn into a weapon. He wasn’t the original target but had been smacked quite dramatically nonetheless for the crime of sitting too close to your sweet boyfriend who had actually been aiming for another person.

The result was the same. Someone was hit. Everyone erupted in raucous laughter and a swift punishment was enacted on the offender.

You watched as they all grabbed your boyfriend by the collar, bent him over at the waist and unleashed a folly of smacks upon his back.

The entire thing was loud and violent. Baekhyun’s yells could be heard over the music and he came back up pink in the face and laughing noisily ready for whatever revenge the rules of this game allowed.

There was alcohol involved too. Apparently there was some step in the game that involved shots of alcohol. You couldn’t make sense of any of it.

You knew you were staring but you felt enraptured by his behavior.

Who was this man?

Where did your boyfriend go?

Was this really the same tender man who held you in his arms and night and declared his never ending love and adoration for you?

He was noisy and crass and annoying and he delighted in the ridiculousness and stupidity of this whole thing.

You weren’t sure which one of them noticed you first. But there was a sudden and dramatic shift in the atmosphere that came over the entire group and it manifested as a literal wave of change that surged from person to person starting from someone in the far right edge.

There was straightening of suit jackets and smoothing of hairstyles that had been messed by the ruckus. There was frantic tapping and wide eyes that motioned in your direction followed immediately by whichever onlooker quickly looking toward Baekhyun. Hands were on him, someone was motioning in your direction and their faces had a look of urgency.

They were calling his attention to you because you were looking at him and this in itself was significant to this group of men.

You wondered what they knew about you and about Baekhyun. What all he had told them and was any of it was enough to be used against you in a court of law.

Baekhyun’s eyes found yours and you had already begun to make your way off the dance floor to the table where you’d kept your drink and your bag along with the other girls’ things and you watched the atmosphere of Baekhyun’s group take on a much more secretive vibe.

They were, every single one of them, absolutely terrible spies.

There was an intense whispering happening. It all felt very dramatic. There was someone slapping Baekhyun quite hard on the arm and laughing as if whatever situation he had been placed in was too funny for non-violent enjoyment and Baekhyun turned to the slapping man, quietly bickered back and forth in an annoyed and scolding manner.

Your table was very close to them all and you’d reached for your drink to take a sip when out of the corner of your eye you saw a genuine stumble as a human man surged in your direction.

Someone had pushed him.

They all turned to look away from you the moment you curiously looked at them and Baekhyun completed the two final steps that it took for him to be standing right beside you.

“So…” he said under his breath. He was whispering to you and his cheeks were as pink as his eyes were glassy. Baekhyun cleared his throat and inhaled again, keeping his voice very low so you were the only one who could hear him. “My friends are pressuring me to ask you to dance and it would make their fucking nights if you said yes.”

You were sipping on a beer and you peered your head around his shoulder, catching at least four faces seconds before they abruptly turned away.

You looked back into his face with genuine amusement and you quickly licked your lips and swallowed away how obviously entertained you were by this.

Baekhyun watched your face and a single eyebrow lifted over his eye before he inhaled to whisper again. “You see, they all think I have a crush on you,” he added.

You recognized the upper hand you had in this situation. Should you give them all what they wanted? A bunch of silly men who wanted nothing more than to encourage and possibly humiliate their friend with his little crush.

“Do you not have a crush on me?”

Baekhyun leaned then, allowing his whispered answer to heat the skin of your cheeks with every word that puffed from of his lips.

“Baby, I do not have a crush.” He said the word with a deep and significant drawn oh emphasis on the last word. Then, from parted lips came the air from deep within his lungs that fanned over your face and smelled like the usual sweet scent of him paired with an obvious scent of all of that alcohol that surfed through his bloodstream.

“I am in love with you,” he urged with his focus locked tightly with yours.

His eyes held onto yours until he leaned in close enough for the darkness in his whisper to coat the back of your neck with goosebumps.

“Dangerously,” he growled and when he pulled his face back and his eyelids sank down hard on the after effects of that one word that sounded more like a warning than a term of endearment.

You set the beer back down on the table and reached a hand out to lightly touch his forearm; letting your hand trail slowly down the length of his sleeve until you reached his fingers. From the table of men you heard light gasps

“Let’s make your friends happy then.”

The moment your hand made contact with his and you took that first step toward the dance floor you heard a sound like a commotion coming from the group of men. It was half a cheer and half a groan and you turned back to see several of them taking shots of alcohol and wincing as it went down.

You looked back at Baekhyun in surprise but your boyfriend's face was the absolute picture of innocence.

“Even this is part of the drinking game?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled sweetly but his bottom lip twitched like it does when he’s being just a little less than honest.

The smallest laugh broke free from your chest. You didn’t want to encourage this, but dammit he was cute when he was acting up.

If either of you had been less intoxicated you might have worked out the timing of this better.

You hadn’t even noticed that the upbeat pop song was about to end until you’d pulled him well onto the dance floor and turned around to face him ready for some manager/ex-secretary appropriate moderately close enough to touch maybe hands and forearms and the occasional only when absolutely necessary waist or chaste hand on a shoulder dancing, when the final happy and peppy beats of the song ended and the lights in the room went surprisingly dim as the notes of a new song began.

If you’d been in your right mind you’d have waited before agreeing to dance with him until you’d cleared the song.

If you’d been in your right mind you might not have gotten genuinely excited once you realized that this particular song; this sexy sultry deep r&b beat and with sexier lyrics; this was a song that you, in fact, had danced to before.

You had, in fact, learned a set of moves to this song, a set of rather risqué and rather provocative moves that you’d learned as part of a group dance fitness class at your local gym, appropriately titled Bad Bitches Dance Fitness.

You had your doubts back when you clicked to sign up for the class. But the instructor had a way of bringing the bad bitch out of you. When the first notes of this song started and you set your face for this, you made sure you looked right into his eyes as you struck the first sexy pose that opened the dance, you learned that not only was the bad bitch still inside of you; but apparently all she needed was some alcohol to come out.

Baekhyun was surprised.

You could see it in his face. His eyes widened and his lips parted as his eyes followed your sexy little prance in a full circle around him and when you reached a fingertip to touch his lips, dragging it down slowly down his chin over his chest, opening your hand to scrape your fingernails straight down the length of him it took him an honest to god moment to recover and react.

You stopped at his belt, thank God — not through any good sense on your own part, but the next move of the dance required you to bend at the hips, slip a bare thigh out with a pointed toe and when you flipped your hair up and let your body roll all the way back up, it was against his warmth as you did it. It was punctuated by the sharp exhale you heard come out from his lungs and the desperate darkness you saw deep in his eyes. The dance went on. It was risky as all hell with plenty of touching and even more flaunting certain parts of your body for the man.

It was dark enough now that not every single bit of this could be seen from all parts of this grand ballroom. The dark lighting and occasional strobing lights gave the illusion of some privacy. His table of friends was close enough though. From somewhere in the direction of their table, you could make out the hoots and hollers from the group of young men who seemed to be very excited to have been the catalyst for this kind of situation.

Baekhyun kept up with you. Despite the fact that he did not know the dance; he was enough of a musician with an obvious background in dance as well to know what might come next. He knew how to anticipate your next move and he moved his body with yours, despite the occasional hard clench you saw in his jaw and sharp gasp for air he took when you did something particularly bad.

You lived for those moments. The bits where he was overcome and so close losing his control.

You didn't have to let your hands travel so slowly over him. You didn't have to grab ahold of your own breasts the way you had done and make an expression that very likely reminded him of fucking you. These bits were never covered in the class; but you had very much lost control over yourself to the alcohol.

Every one of his reactions made you smile. It was a satisfied, truly naughty smile and you looked into his eyes, laying another hand just over his chest as you leaned in close to his face. Your eyes slid from his eyes down to his lips and you leaned in so close. It was dangerous. You swore you could feel the breaths from his mouth against your own. You felt the body heat coming from his smooth skin. You could taste the sweetness of the alcohol on his labored breaths.

You turned your head at the last moment. It was all part of the dance. This was just part of the tease. If you had a chair to sit him down in, you might even sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, letting him feel the way your hips would roll into him to the beat of the music.

But Baekhyun didn’t know the dance. You gasped when your backward step was interrupted by his strong arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He pulled you back into him roughly and your legs parted enough for his firm thigh to slip fully in between your thighs. You felt the dress resist on one side but on the other, that damn slit gave you permission; encouraged you even, practically begged you to straddle his thigh and grind your hips against him. You rubbed against the heat between his legs and you felt him there. Hot and hard and so very teased by you — all night long — nearly at a limit. The temptation was stronger than anything you’d felt before. You wanted to feel that friction pressing into your skin. You wanted his stuttered moans pushed deep inside your ears when you ran the palm of your hand over the rigid shaft you felt below the suit fabric.

A pair of eyes to your left caught your attention. Someone had genuine curiosity written all over their face and someone else’s own dance was interrupted as their eyes wandered over to this strange pair of dancers who really ought not be so close to each other right now, not like this, not in public, not when they shared a strictly professional relationship that never ever crossed any lines. Sure it was quite dark and alcohol was likely the culprit but still…

You needed some distance. He was so warm and he felt so good and his hand around your waist had traveled, slipping his hot hand down your ass and over to grip roughly into the flesh of your bare thigh. You’d had enough sex with this man to know what sorts of touches were a prelude to something more. A touch like this, with as hard as he felt between his legs, this was him drunk and him much too affected by your teasing. This was him having had enough of this. This was him wanting to fuck you.

You felt his hot breath exhale slowly over your ear. There was a throaty moan at the end of it, “f-fuck, baby,” he whined.

This had to stop. You needed to get out of his arms. You took a step back, placing a firm hand against his abdomen, you pushed yourself back hard and you stepped out from between his legs; disguising the movement with another body roll thanks to the perfectly timed out-tro it fit perfectly with your exit.

You had to bite down on your lip and control your breaths. It felt like they were pushing and pulling at your lungs with too much force and Baekhyun’s eyes snapped quickly into yours with that same darkness deep within his blown out pupils.

Your focus was wandering. It had been too much. It had been too obvious. Anyone who had even half paid attention would be able to tell that not only were the two of you already quite deeply in love with each other but the chemistry you felt between him and yourself on this dancefloor alone surely would have told them all that the sex had to be mind blowing.

Your eyes caught movement at your table; of course you’d had plenty of witnesses there. Beside your table stood a group of silently staring men with mouths gaping too surprised to give any sort of reaction and back at your table, you watched sweet Sandi lift a hand to her mouth for a noisy wolf whistle and she started cheering and clapping. The girls beside her cautiously lifted their hands to clap and laugh and the encouragement had a sheepish smile pulling up to your lips and you gave the group the smallest little drunken courtesy. Leaning into their compliments as if you had intended to put on such a show with that dance all along.

Beside you, Baekhyun had a hand on his hip and had just ran a palm over the length of his face, no doubt doing his best job of fixing whatever expression he might have; whatever secrets he might accidentally be showing that should not be shown.

His lips pulled into a smile when you smiled at him and without any other moves to make that could signify to all of your onlookers that the make believe, pretend, it was all for show, movie scene was over now, you lifted a hand in his direction and held it up for a high five. A high five was just the move to get that point across. People that slept together regularly didn’t give each other high fives. This was as platonic a move as you could think of. You were sure he would tease you about this for weeks.

“Great dance!” You said through false brightness loud enough for all of the people waiting for you at your table to hear.

He looked at your hand and then back down at your face and back up at your hand again before he lifted his own hand to give you the weakest, most pathetic excuse for a high five that you've ever received from anyone. His face had the uncomfortable kind of wince that a teenager might sport after being embarrassed in front of their friends by a supremely uncool parent.

Back at the tables you both parted ways and in between Marci’s questions, drilling you about where you learned to dance like that, your ears caught the occasional low guffaws, snickers of laughter and teasing quips bellowing out from the group of men that accosted your boyfriend.

“Man…a high five.”

“That’s rough, buddy.”

There were side conversations and occasional condolences. Some of the men had more hope that others and you were pretty sure they didn’t realize just how loud they were all talking.

“Don’t give up hope, dude.”

“You see the way she dances tho?”

“She a baddie.”

“Way outta his league.”

“If a girl like that gave me a high five I’d just go home and never come out again.”

“Shhh — he’ll hear you.”

You reached for your clutch and pulled out your cell phone; keyed out a short text message and hit send as you pushed yourself up from your seat at your table and let the girls you were going to take a quick bathroom break.

Your message sat unread for long enough for you to make it clear across the dance floor toward the hallway with the bathrooms. You may have imagined it but you could practically feel the change the moment he had read it. You could feel the heat of his eyes watching as you walked away from him. When you rounded a corner you turned back and found his eyes easily as if you’d always known his focus would be only on you.

‘Bathroom by our patio has a lock’

You were walking through the lounge areas past the smaller groups of party goers who congregated there; seeking a little more peace and quiet for some whispered and intimate late night conversations.

Your feet carried you easily through the spaces and with each step as your heels hit the tile floor and echoed all around you it felt like the bang bang bang of a hammer as your hips swayed and you walked with the confidence of the kind of baddie who might propose a forbidden rendezvous such as this.

It was the alcohol. It was the dance. It was the way he smelled and the warmth of his breath as he moaned into your ear. It was the taste of the alcohol on his sweet breath as you inhaled against his face. It felt forbidden, doing something like that with the eyes of so many people on you both. It was the grip of his fingertips as he held onto your thigh and pulled you hard against his dick.

There was no one around. You’d journeyed through several spaces that were completely empty by the time you reached this bathroom door. You pushed the door open and stepped inside rewarded with the silence you knew you’d find in here.

This was a big party but this hotel was so massive the odds of any lost guests finding their way to this end of the building were astronomically small.

The inside of this bathroom had a cozy yet still tasteful feeling. You could tell it was a luxury hotel by the heated hand towels neatly rolled on the surface of the immaculately clean countertop and the floor to ceiling wooden doors that closed off the bathroom stalls. You walked by the cushioned bench and full length mirrors to stand in front of the sinks.

Your reflection looked back at you and you scrutinized the expression you saw in your own eyes. You hardly recognized yourself. Your skin was just a little bit damp looking from the dancing and you were flushed all over. The flush seemed to be more than just from the alcohol, more than just from the dancing and the exertion. It took a couple of deep breaths through your parted lips and a couple of blinks and only then did your mind clear enough for you to actually see yourself clearly. So this is what you looked like to him. So this was the look in your eyes when you wanted him badly enough to seek out a place of privacy even if that place was a bathroom of all places.

You had to inhale a deep breath and look away from the mirror. You felt too crazed for this level of self discovery. You could feel the desperation bubbling up to your surface, your own once carefully curated resolve made so flimsy and weak by a little alcohol … and by him. The light was bright but not harsh and you leaned a hip against the marble countertop as you watched the door for signs of movement.

Baekhyun’s arrival at that bathroom door came with a sound first. Two soft knocks against the wood made with a single knuckle.

You leaned forward and pulled the door handle open and he stumbled a bit until he was leaning against the open doorway with his eyes cast downward, not yet looking at you and definitely not coming inside with nearly the urgency that you would have expected of him right now.

You reached a hand out and grabbed ahold of his. He gave you his hand without protest and when you pulled you had his eyes looking up into yours as he took two steps inside where you urged until he was standing fully inside this silent space in front of you. The door closed behind him.

His brown eyes were on you and his lips were parted as he breathed through those parted lips and after a few moments of watching your face in silence he closed up his mouth and his head sagged back just a little bit.

Having him here in front of you did something to the anxious energy you’d been feeling before he came in. He wasn’t touching you at all except with his eyes but just looking at his beautiful face pulled a smile to your lips and you backed against that countertop again and leaned against it as you simply let the warm feeling take over your chest as the smile grew.

His expression was changing. His face had looked quite collected and controlled when he came in here but the longer he looked at you the more you saw. His focus refused to stay up in your eyes as his had dropped slowly over the length of your body.

“You —” he breathed out with his eyes down on your bare thighs, “you might actually kill me tonight.” He pulled his eyelids up and narrowed his focus on your face as he spoke.

“You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me. Looking like this — in this fucking dress. Dancing like that. Teasing me and then leaving me. Making me — making me desperate.” His hands flew around with every other sentence, pointing and gesturing all over as he ranted.

You felt an unparalleled satisfaction from hearing his many complaints about you from tonight. You knew you were acting up. You knew you had been teasing him and then leaving him wrecked and part of you had been so very weak to him that you simply could not keep yourself under control around him, not when you had been drinking so much. Your only link to reality had been those moments when faced with the very real possibility of exposing your entire relationship to everyone in here that you retreated from him. Running away, giggling the entire time for just how very naughty you were being.

You couldn't stop.

It was wrong of you.

But it was fun. He was fun to tease and the long list of grievances he was airing right now only pulled your lips into a wider smile that you tried your absolute best to bite down on to blank away. It didn’t work, of course. He saw.

“And you’re smiling,” he said with a lift of his eyebrows and his lips pulling into a smile that didn’t have any humor behind it. He closed his eyes as he lifted a hand to rub over the length of his face.

The same naughtiness that you felt pulling at your strings and making you do these terrible, awful, inappropriately teasing things to him all night long pushed you to take a step forward, into his space.

You reached a hand out and dragged your fingers down the front of his shirt. You could feel the warmth of his chest below the fabric. You moved your hand lightly down the length of him dragging fingers along the edge of his necktie, reaching the very end of it you felt the folded edge of the fabric; that strip of unassuming fabric that moved with his breathing. With your fingers at the bottom you only lightly touched the very tip of his tie, the arrow that pointed downward, that part that laid just above his belt. You touched this spot again and again, letting your aim grow sloppy; letting your wandering hand graze lightly below the metal buckle of his belt and all of the warmth and heat you felt there.

“I’m going to get my hands on you,” his lips pursed and he blew out a stuttered breath that shook his bottom lip on the exit and he bit down on his lip briefly as his eyes followed your moving finger. His lips flew open and his tongue darted out to dampen the dryness on his bottom lip before he inhaled a sharp breath to continue his threat, “and there won’t be any stopping me. There will be no party we have to get back to. No songs that just ended.”

“No… fucking … high fives.” He exhaled through the curse word and you took a step into him.

You hooked his belt buckle with your index finger and gave the smallest tug, pulling your bottom lip into the smallest little pout you could manage as you looked down. You should probably pretend to be at least a little bit sorry. It took you a few moments to really sink that pout in deep and it managed to stay put when you looked back up into his face.

Baekhyun scoffed and he shook his head in disbelief. He lifted a hand up your face, bouncing the tip of his index finger lightly twice over the softness of your bottom lip.

“What are you doing? What is that?” His brows were furrowed and his teeth bared, “are you — are you pouting right now? Do you have something to pout about? Something like, oh, I don’t know, a three hour boner, perhaps?”

Your silly attempt at repentance vanished and you pulled your chin inward with the smallest itty bitty eye roll escaping against your will and through the doubts you clearly displayed on your face you mumbled under your breath, “I don't think — it was that long—”

Baekhyun's face flattened. His eyelids and his eyebrows settled into a completely serious expression and you could still feel the doubts and disbelief bouncing around inside of your head, “I mean…three hours—”

Baekhyun’s sudden movement cut off whatever nonsense you were speaking and he grabbed ahold of your right hand, pulled it forward palm open and he planted your hand squarely on top of his, very obviously, fully erect dick. The interruption and presentation of evidence pulled your jaw open as you held him in the palm of your hand and slowly moved upward along the shape of him.

“Did anyone see you come in here after me?” Your whispered question had pulled his eyes open. They had drifted closed with you touching him like this. As it was now, you hadn’t located his tip as he seems to have tucked himself somewhere behind his belt in attempt to just live with his new reality and what you had done to him.

“No idea,” he breathed through short gasps.

Your hand had reached as high as you could move without removing his belt and slowly, with firmer pressure, you moved your hand back down. You felt the push he gave with his hips into your touch.

“Are you mad at me?” You asked it with much of that same teasing smile on your voice and he shook his head quickly back and forth as his left hand flew up to lean against the bathroom door. After a few seconds you heard an audible click when he locked it.

You gasped in surprise when he moved and reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and easily lifting you up to sit on the marble countertop. The stone was freezing beneath your bare thighs and your skirt moved up high enough for a peek of your panties to show. It didn’t matter, he pushed his hips between your parted legs with the same roughness as he handled you. He pulled you into him with strong arms and fingertips that dug into your ass and every push, every bit of friction had your legs parting more; had you needing more than what was possible through the layers of clothing that separated your bodies.

“No,” he leaned in close to your face and spoke in a dark whisper, “but I might want to disrespect you a little while I fuck you.”

You didn’t have any time to form a response because his open mouth covered your own. He kissed you roughly and deeply. His mouth devoured yours hungrily and all you could do was gasp for air when he pulled back, sucking your bottom lip deep inside with the pull of his mouth until he let up enough only for his teeth to bite down. You tasted alcohol on his tongue and on his breath and you imagined you tasted the same.

You felt the culmination of tonight’s frustrations in his kiss. You felt consumed and had by him and when the hollow of his mouth released its hold on, you gasped out loud to feel his lips at your neck seconds before those same parted lips hovered just over the skin right above your jugular. He seemed to play with you there, his lips popping light kisses; his tongue darting out to taste the saltiness of your skin and only when you’d let yourself drift into this tenderness, only when you’d relaxed your shoulders and leaned into him as he kissed and tasted your skin, only then did he do it. Without warning; with the next soft and contented moan that left your lips his muscles tensed around you and his fingertips dug in hard again. At the same time, he pushed his face into your neck, right on the same spot he had been tasting, he suddenly bit down. His hard wet teeth were sinking in deep and he was biting down very hard. He made your breath catch in your throat. Your gasp was a half whine, half whimper interrupted by the shock of the pain you felt when he did it. He made your brain feel fuzzy and dizzy. Maybe it was the surprise, or the alcohol or maybe you hadn’t had enough of a chance to catch your breath.

You would have a mark — red or even the blue color of blood vessels burst just below the surface of your skin. You would touch lightly at this spot and feel a slight tinge from this.

Oh, he was everywhere.

You were quickly overwhelmed.

You could feel your heart racing inside of your chest and that overwhelming feeling felt like it might just burst through your skin. Every touch felt like more than the previous. He was constricting and tightening and he was lifting and pulling and pushing and the room spun; it spun in the confines of this tiny bathroom it spun and it seemed to come to some sort of a comeuppance. He was standing and lifting, his arms clung so tightly around your waist you lost the air inside of your lungs and when you opened your eyes he had found the padded bench and perched you right on top of his lap. You had somehow lost the panties.

“I want to fuck you so badly,” his breathing was rapid and heavy and his face was buried somewhere in your chest. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“You have to take your pants off first.” Your breath caught when you felt his mouth open up over your nipple; right on top of the sticker that covered it and he pulled it into his mouth, sucking, soaking it with his spit and biting with his teeth.

“You’ve got me so fucked. I’m going to cum the second I get inside of you.”

He won. His efforts won over the stupid sticker and you felt the sting of the sticky glue pull hard against your skin; against the most sensitive spots. “I don’t want that. I’m not ready for this to be over.”

You cried out from the pain as he ripped it off with his teeth in a single motion. “You feel so good. You taste so good. You’re so fucking hot.”

As quickly as the sticker was gone and the sting radiated through your nerve endings his mouth was there, pulling your breast into his hot mouth, sucking and biting. Pulling away and leaving you soaked.

You moved your hips over his lap. The firmness lined up perfectly with you; everything about Baekhyun always fit you perfectly. You could feel that desperate friction bumping against your clit with each pass. You chased that feeling, grinding your hips over him again and again, pressing your center atop his stiffness and delighting in the wild grunts that escaped the back of his throat as you did it.

”Don’t,” he breathed out, “don’t you dare,” he was whining with his arms wound around you tight, holding you down, making you stop the movements. You knew what he was saying. You could feel the change in him.

“So take them off, Baek.”

You pushed off of him first. With the way this was going he would cum in his pants before you got to feel him inside of you. His arms relaxed enough to let you go and you stood in front of him, the dress somehow still on, although pushed up very high on your thighs, but both shoulder straps pulled down and your bare breasts exposed, every single mark from his mouth and fingertips flashed flush and hot on your skin. You still had on the stilettos and he stared at you blinking and breathing and begging himself for just a few more minutes of control.

With each of his breaths came small facial twitches. His eyelids pulled down on the exhale and his eyebrows pulsed on his forehead. His eyes closed and opened again and his lips twitched, “You are unfair,” he whispered.

At last, you heard his movement. His hands were at his belt and the quick sounds of that metal buckle and the slide of his zipper resisted against the pressure behind it. He lifted himself into an unsteady standing position and pushed the pants off completely, leaving them crumbled on the floor beside the suit jacket, and the tie, and the shoes.

You lifted a hand behind the dress to find the zipper.

“Leave it on,” he said, reaching for you with both hands; you were spun in place and the heat and warmth of the length of his body warmed your back as his hands wrapped around your waist, one gripping your breast roughly and the other he slipped down between your legs. He coated your back. Behind you, behind your ass you felt him slipping easily between your legs. You were too wet for any resistance at all.

You were moving. He was walking and pushing you forward back toward that padded bench he had been sitting on but his fingers slipped within your wetness as he did it, bumping against your already too wet; too worked up center made it so hard to focus on much.

He moved you; pushing your shoulders down and holding your waist up tight, making you bend down in front of him and your hands hit the bench in front of you, your knees resting on the edge of it and your ass in the air. There wasn’t any dinigity in this. This was fucking. It was desperate and animalistic. His palms ran over the curve of your ass, pushing the fabric of your dress out of the way, slipping fingers in between your legs roughly as he did it. You felt more than desperate. Each of his touches was superficial. Each time, not quite enough. He was so close to you though and his knee nudged hard against the inside of your own knee, making you spread your legs further for him.

Baekhyun was shuffling behind you. Fidgeting with something and whatever it was, it didn’t last long enough for you to care because he was back behind you, this time his movements felt more purposeful. You felt the pad of his thumb dip between your folds and he rubbed over your clit. It made you whimper and moan and push back into him. He knew how to make you cum but he wasn’t doing it. Perhaps it was to buy himself some time to calm down. Maybe he was paying you back for all of the teasing.

“Baby, you are dripping.”

You knew you were. You could feel it. With how long and drawn out this evening had been; with how much you had been denied by him; you were sure you’d be a complete mess.

You felt the soft roundness of the tip of him, slipping in between your wetness as he pushed himself between your folds. This — this was what you needed. This was what you wanted him to do. The action made you squirm and push against him. You needed to feel this again. As he pushed in again, he was also touching you only this time you heard something unexpected. It was a striking and familiar sound that rang out. You knew this sound. This was a cell phone camera shutter. It made your eyes open back up and you looked behind yourself for answers.

Baekhyun was holding your phone and he leaned to reach for you; covering your entire back with his heat and weight he pushed the phone screen forward into your line of sight and you saw it. You saw the picture he had taken with your own cell phone. “Do you see how fucking pretty you look? So wet and needy.” His whisper into your ear had you reeling. He was still moving behind you, pushing his tip against your clit again and again; but not yet entering you.

Your eyes took in the image on your phone screen. His dick in the shot, pushing inside your wetness. Each push from him felt that much more intense with this image in front of you. You felt close to losing control and your eyes drifted closed as you dropped your head and gripped the sides of the bench tightly.

“Do you want a video?” He whispered this next question just at the moment when you felt the building pressure from his actions against your clit. He knew he was bringing you closer as he asked you this question. Your head was swimming. You couldn't process what he was asking you. “Do you want to see what I see when I fuck you?”

Did you want that?

Did you?

You reached for the phone, grabbed it and held it up for him to take. You felt his thumb replace his dick and he was rubbing again. The wetness between your legs increased and your breathing grew frantic.

“Is that a yes? Can I record a video of me fucking you?”

You nodded your head. You already felt it. Your legs were shaking and you felt the trembling as the wave of climax took your breath and your functioning mind and you cried out. It took you a second before you opened your eyes and your phone was gone from your hand.

He pushed inside of you then; in a single rough fluid motion and the inundation took you by surprise, making you cry out again. The sounds, the low grunts with his effort, the deep moans of pleasure, the whispered curses that flew from his mouth, all of the sounds from him hit you just as hard as each rough thrust into you. You felt a mess. The slight pain mixed with pleasure you felt with each thrust had you grasping to hold on to something. There was a new sensation. Something different and unexpected and he did something with his hand, pressing with his thumb in between your ass as he fucked you and you felt crushed; you felt dizzy and overcome and he was shaking and trembling; holding on so tightly to you in this way that made you lose every single thought inside of your head along with every bit of oxygen inside of your lungs.

You both must have lost your damn minds, doing this here, in this place.

You knew the oxygen must have been returning because this thought popped into your head after a few moments of clarity. Baekhyun plopped himself down onto the bench beside you and wrapped his arms around you waist, pulling you to sit down on top of his bare lap. You could still feel the mess spreading between your skin and his skin but you were too spent to care much. He was holding you tightly into him and you leaned your head back to rest against his shoulders, leaning your temple against his.

In front of you Baekhyun held up your phone. The screen was illuminated with the filthiest thumbnail of a video you’ve ever seen in your entire life, outside of occasionally desperate porn videos that you watched sometimes when you were lonely and frustrated with life.

You could feel every rough exhale from his lungs warming your neck and you turned your head to look at his profile out of the corner of your eye.

He pressed play on the video and it came to life, the real life, sinful sounds of the sex you’d just had with him. You felt oddly transfixed watching this. Not nearly as embarrassed to have this view of yourself as you thought you might have been and you felt even more surprised to see what he had done while in the height of both of your orgasms that had pushed you so over the edge at the time. The ball of spit from his mouth that landed right over your asshole. The thumb he pushed inside. Your mouth flew open and you turned to look at him.

His eyes were down on the phone and he was blinking slowly as he licked his lips and bit down. You lifted a finger to point at the screen.

“Is that what that was?” It came out as less accusatory and more of a curiosity. And you saw the tiniest grin pull at the corner of his mouth before he leaned his chin over and playfully bit you on the shoulder.

“Can I have this video too?” He whispered the tiny request and looked over at you after you didn’t respond immediately. “You can say no.” He said softly with a shrug. “You can just delete it if you want to.”

“Don't forget to delete it again from your recently deleted folder, if you do.” Something in his voice sounded quite pathetic and sad as he reminded you about the importance of being diligent when deleting your sex tapes. “I’m sorry I got drunk and spit on you and put my thumb in your butt and made a drunk sex tape with you, if that’s what you’re being quiet about.”

You covered your mouth just in time to catch the snort of laughter that erupted from your chest. This man’s post nut clarity was hitting him very hard and very quickly. From between your legs, and all over his bare lap you felt the wetness move out of you with every laugh and his face turned into a genuine wince as he seemed to hold his breath when he felt it too. You tried your best to stop the laughing but you were too amused by this nonsense.

“You can send it to yourself,” you finally said after recovering from the manic giggling. “I’m not being quiet. I am in shock.”

He bit down on the inside of his bottom lip and the smile on his face grew wide and self satisfied and he was moving his hands very quickly over your phone screen as if you might change your mind and take it back any second now.

“But you liked it,” he sing-songed with a playful shake of his head and you heard a buzz somewhere from the floor where his own phone was still tucked away inside his pocket.

“I have it now,” he said triumphantly and he abruptly turned his head to face you with a bright playfulness deep within his eyes. You looked back at him curiously, feeling that something was brewing here.

His smile widened and he, very slowly, and very annoyingly, lifted a hand up into the air in front of you, palm facing you. He held it up with that same wide smile on his face. This wasn’t a sweet smile. This was a teasing smile. His eyes were full of mischief.

“Great sex,” he whispered and those same eyes looked crazed as he motioned toward his waiting hand with the smallest whine that came from the back of his throat when you didn’t instantly give him what he wanted. He gave his raised hand the smallest shake for emphasis.

“I’m not doing that,” you said, pulling yourself up off his lap as you headed away from him toward the bathroom stall so you could clean up the mess you had all over the lower half of your body.

“Oh come on,” he said, standing up and following you. “Do it. Great sex. I said ‘Great sex.’ You have to do it. I feel,” he inhaled a trembling and very dramatic breath, “extremely cheated right now.” His hand was still up and he was chasing you around the bathroom with it.

You tried to close the stall door but he pushed his thigh through the space and after a few seconds you saw that same hand push through, palm up, stupid and expecting — no — demanding that you cooperate.

You would never know peace in your entire life if you didn’t do this.

You were also certain that you would never know peace in your entire life if you did it too, because both scenarios would encourage his ridiculousness.

You lifted the quickest hand and slapped his palm.

“Woo!” He shouted, “Got the high-five!”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #exo story

103 notes · View notes