#in my other writing group I've written up a thing

[ao3commentoftheday]

Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?

I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.

Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.

Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"

A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.

The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.

As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.

When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.

Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.

[vaspider]

In defense of retellings & reimaginings

I'm not going to respond to the post that sparked this, because honestly, I don't really feel like getting in an argument, and because it's only vaguely even about the particular story that the other post discussed. The post in question objected to retellings of the Rape of Persephone which changed important elements of the story -- specifically, Persephone's level of agency, whether she was kidnapped, whether she ate seeds out of hunger, and so on. It is permissible, according to this thesis, to 'fill in empty spaces,' but not to change story elements, because 'those were important to the original tellers.' (These are acknowledged paraphrases, and I will launch you into the sun if you nitpick this paragraph.)

I understand why to the person writing that, that perspective is important, and why they -- especially as a self-described devotee of Persephone -- feel like they should proscribe boundaries around the myth. It's a perfectly valid perspective to use when sorting -- for example -- which things you choose to read. If you choose not to read anything which changes the elements which you feel are important, I applaud you.

However, the idea that one should only 'color in missing pieces,' especially when dealing with stories as old, multi-sourced, and fractional as ancient myths, and doing so with the argument that you shouldn't change things because those base elements were important to the people who originally crafted the stories, misses -- in my opinion -- the fundamental reason we tell stories and create myths in the first place.

Forgive me as I get super fucking nerdy about this. I've spent the last several years of my life wrestling with the concept of myths as storytelling devices, universality of myths, and why myths are even important at all as part of writing on something like a dozen books (a bunch of which aren't out yet) for a game centered around mythology. A lot of the stuff I've written has had to wrestle with exactly this concept -- that there is a Sacred Canon which cannot be disrupted, and that any disregard of [specific story elements] is an inexcusable betrayal.

Myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us as individuals, as social groups, and as a society. The elements we utilize or change, those things we choose to include and exclude when telling and retelling a story, tell us what's important to us.

I could sit down and argue over the specific details which change over the -- at minimum -- 1700 years where Persephone/Kore/Proserpina was actively worshiped in Greek and Roman mystery cults, but I actually don't think those variations in specific are very important. What I think is important, however, is both the duration of her cults -- at minimum from 1500 BCE to 200CE -- and the concept that myths are stories we tell ourselves to understand who we are and what's important to us.

The idea that there was one, or even a small handful, of things that were most important to even a large swath of the people who 'originally' told the store of the Rape of Persephone or any other 'foundational' myth of what is broadly considered 'Western Culture,' when those myths were told and retold in active cultic worship for 1700 years... that seems kind of absurd to me on its face. Do we have the same broad cultural values as the original tellers of Beowulf, which is only (heh) between 1k-1.3k years old? How different are our marital traditions, our family traditions, and even our language? We can, at best, make broad statements, and of inclusive necessity, those statements must be broad enough as to lose incredible amounts of specificity. In order to make definitive, specific statements, we must leave out large swaths of the people to whom this story, or any like it, was important.

To move away from the specific story brought up by the poster whose words spun this off, because it really isn't about that story in particular, let's use The Matter of Britain/Arthuriana as our framing for the rest of this discussion. If you ask a random nerd on Tumblr, they'd probably cite a handful of story elements as essential -- though of course which ones they find most essential undoubtedly vary from nerd to nerd -- from the concept that Camelot Always Falls to Gawain and the Green Knight, Percival and the grail, Lancelot and Guinevere...

... but Lancelot/Guinevere and Percival are from Chrétien de Troyes in the 12th century, some ~500 years after Taliesin's first verses. Lancelot doesn't appear as a main character at all before de Troyes, and we can only potentially link him to characters from an 11th century story (Culhwch and Olwen) for which we don't have any extant manuscripts before the 15th century. Gawain's various roles in his numerous appearances are... conflicting characterizations at best.

The point here is not just that 'the things you think are essential parts of the story are not necessarily original,' or that 'there are a lot of different versions of this story over the centuries,' but also 'what you think of as essential is going to come back to that first thesis statement above.' What you find important about The Matter of Britain, and which story elements you think can be altered, filed off or filled in, will depend on what that story needs to tell you about yourself and what's important to you.

Does creating a new incarnation of Arthur in which she is a diasporic lesbian in outer space ruin a story originally about Welsh national identity and chivalric love? Does that disrespect the original stories? How about if Arthur is a 13th century Italian Jew? Does it disrespect the original stories if the author draws deliberate parallels between the seduction of Igerne and the story of David and Bathsheba?

Well. That depends on what's important to you.

Insisting that the core elements of a myth -- whichever elements you believe those to be -- must remain static essentially means 'I want this myth to stagnate and die.' Maybe it's because I am Jewish, and we constantly re-evaluate every word in Torah, over and over again, every single year, or maybe it's because I spend way, way too much time thinking about what's valuable in stories specifically because I write words about these concepts for money, but I don't find these arguments compelling at all, especially not when it comes to core, 'mainstream' mythologies. These are tools in the common toolbox, and everybody has access to them.

More important to me than the idea that these core elements of any given story must remain constant is, to paraphrase Dolly Parton, that a story knows what it is and does it on purpose. Should authors present retellings or reimaginings of the Rape of Persephone or The Matter of Britain which significantly alter historically-known story elements as 'uncovered' myths or present them as 'the real and original' story? Absolutely not. If someone handed me a book in which the new Grail was a limited edition Macklemore Taco Bell Baja Blast cup and told me this comes directly from recently-discovered 6th century writings of Taliesin, I would bonk them on the head with my hardcover The Once & Future King. Of course that's not the case, right?

But the concept of canon, historically, in these foundational myths has not been anything like our concept of canon today. Canon should function like a properly-fitted corset, in that it should support, not constrict, the breath in the story's lungs. If it does otherwise, authors should feel free to discard it in part or in whole.

Concepts of familial duty and the obligation of marriage don't necessarily resonate with modern audiences the way that the concept of self-determination, subversion of unreasonable and unjustified authority, and consent do. That is not what we, as a general society, value now. If the latter values are the values important to the author -- the story that the author needs to tell in order to express who they are individually and culturally and what values are important to them* -- then of course they should retell the story with those changed values. That is the point of myths, and always has been.

Common threads remain -- many of us move away from family support regardless of the consent involved in our relationships, and life can be terrifying when you're suddenly out of the immediate reach and support of your family -- because no matter how different some values are, essential human elements remain in every story. It's scary to be away from your mother for the first time. It's scary to live with someone new, in a new place. It's intimidating to find out that other people think you have a Purpose in life that you need to fulfill. It's hard to negotiate between the needs of your birth family and your chosen family.

None of this, to be clear, is to say that any particular person should feel that they need to read, enjoy, or appreciate any particular retelling, or that it's cool, hip and groovy to misrepresent your reworking of a myth as a 'new secret truth which has always been there.' If you're reworking a myth, be truthful about it, and if somebody told you 'hey did you know that it really -- ' and you ran with that and find out later you were wrong, well, correct the record. It's okay to not want to read or to not enjoy a retelling in which Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere negotiate a triad and live happily ever after; it's not really okay to say 'you can't do that because you changed a story element which I feel is non-negotiable.' It's okay to say 'I don't think this works because -- ' because part of writing a story is that people are going to have opinions on it. It's kind of weird to say 'you're only allowed to color inside these lines.'

That's not true, and it never has been. Greek myths are not from a closed culture. Roman myths are not sacrosanct. There are plenty of stories which outsiders should leave the hell alone, but Greek and Roman myths are simply not on that list. There is just no world in which you can make an argument that the stories of the Greek and Roman Empires are somehow not open season to the entire English-speaking world. They are the public-est of domain.

You don't have to like what people do with it, but that doesn't make people wrong for writing it, and they certainly don't have to color within the lines you or anyone else draws. Critique how they tell the story, but they haven't committed some sort of cultural treachery by telling the stories which are important to them rather than the stories important to someone 2500 years dead.

****

*These are not the only reasons to tell a story and I am not in any way saying that an author is only permitted to retell a story to express their own values. There are as many reasons to tell a story as there are stories, and I don't really think any reason to create fiction is more or less valid than any other. I am discussing, specifically, the concept of myths as conveyors of essential cultural truths.

[xlpoww]

Jealousy, Jealousy

i really loved how bad for business turned out, and it seems you all did too!! so here's a continuation of the bfb universe/storyline :) it's not exactly a part two

warnings! jealousy (sanji's)

word count: 1,720

opla! sanji x f! reader

i actually took the time to reference back to this scene in the live action to make sure i got their orders right :) !! also hi i am alive !!! i just got busy with work- and i had a mini con to go to this weekend and i cosplayed nami! :D -> i have also been struggling with tremendous writers block, and was trying to force myself to write about zoro for days! but i couldn't, and i was frustrated with myself untill i rememebred this isnt a job, this is for fun for me and you guys. so i went back to some of the things i've written and felt like i could continue this one :) the story really flowed from there and i wrote a lot in a short span sooooooo &lt;3 ily all! thanks for reading as always <3333

sanji vinsmoke is jealous. 

the cook is used to woman falling at his feet, swooning over his flirty personality. either that or they get annoyed at him and clearly show disinterest. (oftentimes calling him names and sometimes resulting in him getting hit)

but you, the one girl he actually held a candle for, he couldn’t even seem to get a rejection from you. that would’ve made things so much easier for him and his heart. it’s gotten to the point he’s wishing you would tell him you don’t return his feelings. sure it would hurt in the moment, but at least he could have (hopefully) forced himself to move on.

but no, you won’t reject him; nor will you swoon at his advances. they seem to roll right off you like beads of rain on a window. never a hint of blush on your cheeks, no angrily quirked brows. how was he meant to understand? there are two reasonable reactions to such a forward man, either interest or not. how do you manage to toe the line so perfectly?

it drove him mad, not only were you horribly hard to read, every once in a while you would flirt aggressively back at him. it would always catch the poor boy off guard, leaving him stunned and blushing standing wherever he was. oftentimes you did it right in the middle of the kitchen, leaving him to deal with the playful teasing of the other workers, walking off to continue doing your job. 

you would be the death of him surely.

especially when the sight of you smiling so sweetly at that stupid swordsman causes a painful squeeze in his chest. his grip on the tray he was holding is bruising, and there’s a jealous rage brewing inside of him.

-

“hello my name is y/n, and i’ll be your waitress today. can i start you guys with any refreshments?” you flip over a page on your notepad, ready to write down the group's requests. what a charming bunch they were, with just a glance you could tell they really cared for one another.

“i’ll take a beer,” the green haired man speaks up, and you nod with a smile.

“i’ll take two beers, i normally have three but..” he trails off as the woman at the table speaks up.

“i’ll take a water.”

“and a glass of milk!” the endearing boy with a straw hat adds on, his words are muffled by the bun he was still chewing. when coming to greet them you’d brough over a basket of perfectly warmed buns with butter. nodding at them all, your pen into your apron as you repeat back to them. 

“three beers, milk and water, coming right up you guys.” you step back with a bow, turning towards the kitchen. doing so you notice your best friend is glaring in your direction, and as you walk back you tilt your head at him. when you get closer you realize his glare wasn't directed towards you, but the swordsman you had taken the order from. he doesn’t even seem to pay you any mind as you approach him, too focused on the table you had just walked away from. when you reach him where he stands in front of the doorway, you snap your fingers in his face. it seems to snap him out of it, and he looks down at you with a charming smile.

“hello my love, what can i do for you?” his hand is placed on your shoulder sweetly. the touch warms your body, but you shake it off to cross your arms. 

“what’s up with you, why were you glaring at my table? do you know them?” you gesture back towards your table, and a flush washes over his face when he realizes he’d been caught. he straightens his tie in an attempt to shake off his shame,

“not a clue who they are darling.” your eyebrow raises in suspicion, you’re not buying it. he seems to know you won’t, and he tucks his hand into his pockets as he shrugs.

“you just glare at people you don’t know now sanj?” a pout forms out of frustration. while you were wondering why he was lying to you so blatantly, he was internally swooning at how adorable you looked in that moment, and the sweet way you'd shortend his name. the grip you had over his heart was the strongest in all the seas.

“don’t worry, pretty lady, it’s nothing. now if you’ll excuse me i’ve got my own tables to wait on.” he’s internally scrambling to figure out how to distract you from what he was caught doing, in a moment of boldness (or a crazy attempt to change the subject), he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head.

the action causes your eyes to almost bulge out of your head as you begin to blush. a smug smile forms on sanji’s face at the sight, he’d never felt more accomplished than he did in that moment. not only had he distracted you, he’d made your face light up all pretty and embarrassed. he winked at you before brushing past you to do his job, pushing open the swinging door into the kitchen behind you.

you’re left in shock trying to wrap your brain around his actions, ‘what had gotten into him?’ as bold and flirtatious as he was, you would have never expected a display like that in front of all the customers.

oh shit, the customers. ‘had anyone seen that? oh gods.’ your hands clench into fists as you attempt to bring yourself back to reality and calm down, and you push past the doors of the kitchen. your eyes are focused on the ground as you collect the drinks needed for your table, placing them all on a tray and balancing them on one hand. you take a moment to breathe in and compose yourself before walking back out into the dining room. 

you eyes scan the room and find your favorite blond waiting on a table on the opposite side of the room of your own. his location makes it easy to return to the table without incident, placing down the three beers before the milk and water. with a smile, you tuck the tray under your arm and pull out your notepad again to continue taking their orders. maybe doing your job could distract from the rapid beating in your chest.

“you guys decided on food yet?” 

“one of everything!” the boy with a straw hat speaks up, and you quirk your eyebrow. they didn't look like the big spenders you were used too, but it wasn’t really your place to mention that. your smile never slips as you nod, writing it down and once again bowing before you leave. by your luck sanji seems to be waiting for you at the doorway of the kitchen. so much for the idea you had to avoid him until you’d calmed down.

he holds his hand out, offering to take your tray from you. his kind offer brings a smile to your lips, and you decide to shove down whatever inner turmoil was happening and act like what he did hadn’t happened. (he sure was.)

“any interesting orders?” he smiles, quirking a brow at you as you offer him your serving tray. you laugh, holding out your notepad to show him where you had written down ‘one of everything’ sanji’s heart squeezes at how cute your handwriting is, and he can’t help the chuckle. “well it looks like you’ll need some help taking out this order then, love.” the pet name causes the usual skip in your heartbeat, and you smile, nodding in acceptance of his offer for help, pushing past him into the kitchen to get your cooks started on the order of everything.

-

the food gets taken out in waves, sanji always accompanying you with an extra plate or two. the table is rather nice about it, they’re always caught up in conversation. even still they thank you for every plate you place down, they seem like genuine people. it warms your heart to see such a close group of friends. 

you can’t help but notice the way sanji doesn’t even pay the girl at the table any mind, too busy glaring at the green haired man, his hands lingering on your shoulder or back longer than they needed to. how he’d managed to add on to his unusual behavior, you wouldnt understand.

not that he really had any reason to be placing a tender hand on your back while you were serving guests. the third time it happens you turn to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and he turns to smile down at you sweetly, his hand on your back rubbing up and down. you look at him incredulously, sanji steps back, bowing before walking back towards the kitchen. before he left his gaze lingered on the man longer than should have been acceptable. you have to hold back a frustrated huff, turning back to the table with a plastered smile

“don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything! i hope you enjoy your meal.” you finish off the sentence with a bow, turning to look at the swordsman when he speaks up with a snort. “are you sure, wouldn’t want to make your busboy anymore jealous than he already is?” your eyes widen in confusion, not only at the notion, but the unnecessary insult towards your sanji.

“whatever could you mean.” the whole table turns to you, and the redhead quirks a brow at you, adding on.

“you’re not really that clueless, are you?” your mouth drops open, and a blush begins to cover your cheeks.

“no, i didn’t think i was.”

and then you’re even more confused. what reason would he have to be jealous over you and a random guest? it’s not like the man had even given you the time of day, or you’d even wanted it?  all you’d done was take his orders. 

the thought feels so impossible, even so it has already quickly begun eating away at your brain and heart. it was the only logical explanation for all his odd behaviors tonight.

sanji vinsmoke, was jealous. over you.

taglist: @the-maladaptive-daydreamers @teenyforestfairy @gothicuwusposts @cheesesoda @scentisterror @shuujin @gcldtom

[distantdarlings]

PARTING THE SILENCE // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.9K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* Theo plans a special evening for the two of you on the night of your anniversary.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Virgin!Reader, Dom!Theo, Gender-Neutral Reader, losing virginity, language, piv - no protection, fingering (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

HEAVEN - Isabel LaRosa

(Quick note: This is not entirely proof-read and was originally written with a fem reader before I realized the gender is not specified in the request. I tried to rewrite w/ a gender-neutral reader, but if I've missed something, please let me know! Thanks!)

---

Your foot tapped impatiently against the leg of your desk as you anxiously awaited the end of class. Your eyes glanced around aimlessly, attempting to catch a glimpse of the sun. Perhaps you’d be able to get an idea of what time it was. 

“Okay, that is the end of my lecture for today!” Professor Flitwick announced. With a flick of his wand, dozens of textbooks flew toward the students. They were small and very old with cracked bindings, but they held the class’ homework for the rest of the week. 

Once you selected yours and shoved it into your bag, you were practically already out the door. Your boyfriend, Theo Nott, had promised a romantic evening for your anniversary, and you weren’t planning on being late.

You shouldered your bag and exited the Charms classroom with your dormitory in mind. Every other student that was trying to get to the Great Hall or to Hogsmeade crossed the halls, making it near impossible for you to wiggle through each one. It was like an ocean constantly pushing against you. 

Past staircases and groups of students, you’d finally managed to get back to your house's common room. You ignored the growl in your stomach as the scent from the kitchens wafted through the hair. Surely, they’d had nothing but distraction in mind when they put the Hufflepuffs right next to the kitchens. You rolled your eyes. 

You didn’t need to eat anything right now. Theo had planned dinner just for you, and you wanted to be able to eat as much as you could if it. You didn’t want to show up to your date full. 

You spoke the password and whisked through the hallway into the common room. Its yellowed walls reflected the setting Sun outside, casting a peaceful, golden glow onto everything. It was nearly empty, but you knew that wouldn’t be the case forever. Since it was a Friday night, everybody had plans, and they’d be rushing back to their dorms soon enough.

You jogged the rest of the way to your dormitory and let the door fall shut behind you. Only a few of your dorm mates were scattered around the room, doing homework, tidying up, and whatever else. They all gave you a small wave or nod as you walked by, to which you politely returned.

You had no time to talk at the moment. You had to get ready. Due to the likely possibility that you’d be late, you’d already laid out an outfit. Theo always had the mind to plan ahead and have everything ready perfectly on top. Your issues with punctuality tended to put you both behind, though. So, today, you tried to think forward.

Dropping your things, you grabbed the outfit and headed to the joint bathroom. Though it was simple, it was fancy enough to be suited for a nice dinner and casual enough for a picnic. You could never prepare for the wild dates Theo planned. 

You slipped the clothing on and readied yourself in the bathroom mirror, splashing a bit of water on your face and messing up your hair. Though you didn’t look half as well as you wanted to, it would work for tonight. 

Turning on your heels, you made your way out of the bathroom and back through the common room as quickly as you could. The hallways of Hogwarts were closer to empty now that classes had been out for a while, making it much easier to find your way to your destination. 

The sky outside was blackening quite rapidly due to the wintry month the castle was currently submerged in. With a shudder of nerves at the thought of having to walk in the dark by yourself, you picked up your pace a bit. The air around you was chilled and swirling, urging you to wrap your jackets tighter around you. 

Theo had told you to meet him by the Black Lake on the side opposite the castle. You weren’t sure if he had planned to do something there and then go out to eat or… A deep sigh left you. You were definitely overthinking this. No matter how long you’d been with Theo, you always became extremely nervous before any of your dates. Due to your house of origin, you constantly felt as though you weren’t good enough to be with Theo. It wasn’t as though any of his friends made you feel that way. It was other people in Slytherin house and even some in Hufflepuff. It was an unnerving feeling that led you to believe they were right, even though Theo picked you. 

You came up to the edge of the Black Lake. The quickly approaching starlight above began to reflect in the dark waters. Halfway across the way, you could see a small lantern pressed up against one of the trees lining the banks. A wide smile spread across your face, urging you toward that dim glow. Swallowing your anxiety, you began to skirt the edge of the lake until you came upon Theo, who seemed to be admiring his work.

Before him was a dark green quilt, weighed down with two large, woven baskets, the lantern, and what looked like his school bag. You suppressed a smile and snuck up behind him, intending to surprise him. 

You eased up behind him, feet as quiet as possible, and sucked in a breath—

“Rah!” Theo turned and shouted, grabbing at your sides. You shrieked at the sudden shock, having no time to react before his fingers started attacking your ribs. Panicked giggles swirled throughout the air as he tickled you relentlessly, his eyes mean and teasing. 

“No, no, no! Please, stop!” you screamed through forced giggles. You kicked and wiggled to try and separate yourself from him, but his hold—as always—was much too strong for you to escape from. He used the size difference between the two of you much too often. “Theo!”

When he finally stopped tickling you, he pushed you back slightly to avoid your next move, which was all too predictable. As soon as he had separated himself from you, you began to swing your arms at him, trying to get a good hit to his arms. 

“You jerk! I’ve told you not to do that!” you shouted, smacking at his clothed arms. 

“You were trying to surprise me!” he defended himself, trying to push you away from him.

“I don’t care!” He grabbed a hold of you suddenly, pulling your body close to his, his strong arms wrapped snugly around you. The two of you attempted to contain giggles at the feeling of being so close to one another. The chilled air cooled your lungs and fanned across your chest. Despite the temperature around you, Theo’s body against yours was as warm as it needed to be. The weather barely had any effect on you when he held you. He was like your own personal heater. 

“Oh, I missed you, darling,” he groaned lovingly into your ear, his lips tickling the flesh of your neck. The vibration of his words and the feeling of his breath on you sent a shiver through your body. You gasped slightly at the sensation, clinging tighter to his arms. 

“You cold?” he asked. 

“No.”

“Why’d you shiver?”

“Because you make me a little nervous,” you giggled awkwardly. His arms loosened around you almost instantly. His eyes found yours, a deep concern shoved into them. Your nervous smile dropped slightly at his expression. Was he upset?

“I make you nervous?” he asked. “What did I do? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. Was it the way I held you?”

You nearly melted at how worried he seemed to be with your comfort. Never before had you met a boy so serious about how you felt. Being with Theo felt like always being taken care of, always being thought of, and never being forgotten. It never failed that—no matter what the issue was—Theo was there and ready to fix it. Whether it was his hands, his lips, his words… Whatever it need be, he had it waiting for you. You loved him endlessly for it. 

“No, darling,” you laughed. “You make me nervous … in, uh, a good way.” His eyebrows quirked, and a small smirk began to spread across his lips. 

“Nervous in a good way, huh? Can you explain that to me a little bit?” he asked slyly as he inched back toward you. Once he was behind you, he wrapped himself around you again, allowing his face to press back into your neck. You could feel his breath against your skin; each inhale and exhale made your heart rattle in your chest. One hand that was tightened around your stomach loosened itself and slid upwards. His fingers softly slid around your neck, never tightening, just placed there. It was so domineering, yet soft, that it had you gulping.

 “L-like when you do that,” you sighed, cursing yourself for stuttering. 

“When I do what?” he asked. His free hand moved gently against your stomach, gently tracing curves and dips, claiming your body so easily. 

“When you touch me,” you whispered. At some point, your head had begun to lean back against his strong shoulder. If not for him holding you up, you were unsure if you’d still be standing. 

The two of you had only done a few things together since you started dating. Of course, you’d kissed and petted a bit, but the two of you hadn’t gotten…there yet. The thought of it started your heart beating wildly in your chest, with no regard for your pride, as Theo’s hand was still splayed against your thorax. 

“I could touch you more if you’d like,” he suggested. The fact that he’d presented the question like an option rather than a definite made the experience feel all the more pleasurable. He so obviously cared about how you felt, and that made you want him even more. 

“Outside, Teddy?” you breathed nervously, your chest rising and falling heavily beneath the fall of his hand. Every breath and every touch against you had your mind racing.

“It’s dark, and no one else is out here,” he mumbled against the skin behind your ear. His lips caressed the shell of it every few moments.

“It’s cold…I don’t know if we should.” You wanted to. You really did, but you were trying to reason with him a bit. In his defense, your plan was to come out here and have a romantic anniversary…but now all you could think about was what lay beneath his knit sweater. 

His free hand trailed around your waist and skirted your core through the fabric of your bottoms. A shuddering gasp left your lips ever so quietly, the sound slicing through the icy silence.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he whispered against your ear. The tip of his nose traced along the line of your shoulder, traveling lower and lower until he pressed a sensual open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. Your heart was pounding, your breaths leaving you in desperate pants. 

“Yes,” you moaned breathlessly. You could practically feel him smirk against you as he gently pulled you backward to the beautiful picnic he’d set up.

With a small shove, he’d moved the prepared baskets off of the quilt and laid you softly on the ground. The earth beneath the blanket was soft and even, and the boy above you was strong and rough. The contrast had your pupils blown wide in pleasure. 

Once above you, he hovered easily, his lips running slow, personal kisses along your jawline and neck. Your head tilted back against the ground to allow him as much access to you as possible. You didn’t want anything coming between the two of you.

“Darling, please,” he breathed against your skin, “…want you now…” 

His lips hovered just over your chest where your shirt split down the middle. They were parted and swollen and wanting as he brushed them along your flesh, impatiently waiting on your consent.

“Yes, please,” you whined out, clutching his curls within your fingers. 

It took less than a second for him to begin to undo your bottoms, his hands gentle yet swift. Once the task was completed, he did the same with himself. He removed his belt and dropped it to the ground next to him, the leather slapping against itself with a loud crack. At the sound, you could feel heat broiling in your core…you figured that was an experiment for another day, though.

Theo undid his pants and pushed himself over the top of his briefs so he was still covered from the back. At the sight of his perfectly reddened dick, you could feel your body clenching around nothing, desperate to feel him inside you. 

Theo caressed gentle fingers up and down your core with one hand while the other collected a bit of spit from his mouth. He let it fall down between your legs and trace circles around your entrance, spreading the slick all around. At the feeling, your back arched toward him. Your lips parted in a silent scream. You’d never done this before, so you were bound to be as tight as possible, but you didn’t care. The nerves of your first time with Theo were very quickly overpowered by the raging lust pushing through your body.

He found your eyes and, with a soft nod, slowly slid his finger within you. It was a stretch—one that put your fingers to shame. You grasped at anything—the dirt, the grass, Theo’s back. He was sending you into space and keeping you grounded all at the same time. His finger slowly worked you open with genuine care until he was able to add more. He was preparing you for himself, but you could barely reach the third finger. 

“Ugh, slow, baby, please,” you whined. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” he whispered. “Too much?”

You nodded pitifully, your fingers grasping at the quilt and the grass beneath. His hands slowed and eased you closer and closer to your finish before carefully removing all of his fingers from you. You groaned at the sensation and the sudden emptiness. 

“Why’d you stop, Teddy?” you moaned. You stared up at him, your bottom lip jutting out slightly in a slight pout. He clicked his tongue and placed a dominating hand on your jaw. The size of his hand dwarfed your face as his thumb traced the length of your lip. 

“Because I want to give you more, baby,” he cooed. “I want to feel you wrapped around me.” 

You sucked in a shuddering breath as he balanced himself on his knees. He agonizingly slid himself over your entrance, the tip tracing you meanly. Your lips parted at the sensation, anticipating the stretch and fullness.

“I’m gonna move, sweetheart,” he moaned, his hands gripping your bare thighs tightly. You nodded in response to his guidance and braced yourself against him.

As he pushed in, the stretch was a strong yet delicious burn. The slick around your entrance was enough to allow him to slide in quickly, yet he took his time, allowing you to grow around him. Once he’d filled you up to the base, he groaned lightly, waiting patiently for the go-ahead to move.

Once you settled around him, you nodded eagerly. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers tightening into your flesh. Your lips parted at the motion. He ever so slowly began to move in and out of you, each stroke caressing some unknown spot deep within you. 

“Fuck, Teddy,” you whispered, “I don’t know how long I can last.”

“Go as long as you can for me, baby…just want to feel you around me,” he grunted out. You glanced up through hissed lids to observe his gorgeous face and the fucked out impression painted on it.

The sweat dripped down the side of his face, trailing over his jawline and tracing his strong neck. His lips were swollen and parted delicately, with whispers of moans slipping through. His eyes were shut loosely. With every particularly deep thrust, you’d clench around him, and his eyelids would part, showcasing his sea-misted eyes rolling back as far as they’d go.

The sight of his pleasure was enough to push you over the edge into an ocean of ecstasy. You came hard around him, the last remains of your virtue spilling down between your thighs. Your back arched, your legs shook around him, your fingers gripped at nothing.

The feeling of your orgasm slammed into his chest. He cried out pitifully, a melodious whine parting the silence as the evidence of his finish coated your insides.

With a deep exhale, he eased himself out of you and collapsed beside you. You laughed breathlessly, the aftershocks of your orgasm flowing through you like a wave.

With a lazy smile on his face, he leaned forward and reached over you. He lifted the lid of one of the baskets and pulled an extra folded quilt out. You laughed aloud at his preparedness.

“Knew you were gonna get fucked, is that it?” you teased.

“Actually, I figured we’d stargaze,” he admitted, sheepishly tossing the blanket over your bodies. “I brought it in case we got cold.”

“You’re adorable, Teddy,” you giggled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face couldn’t hide the love he was feeling for you.

He passed around the perfectly preserved food and pumpkin juice, ensuring you got a taste of each sweet and snack he’d brought along. 

He then wrapped himself around you and reminded you ten times over why you’d fallen in love with him.

*Tag List: @mypolicemanharryyy, @angelfrombeneth, @clairesjointshurt, @bunbunbl0gs, @acornacreacure, @niktwazny303, @thestarlithideout, @sarahskakskskskajakwwnwjw, @yhiiil (if you would like to be added to the tag list for any future works, please comment on this post, dm me or send me a message in my inbox. Thanks!)

[diedicontroversial]

[discourse] in defiance of the author’s wishes (re: mxtx fandom)

table of contents : context  : moral arguments : addressing the legal side of things  : closing remarks

Context

on March 17, 2018, mxtx posted:

“As long as you don't split or reverse the top/bottom positions of the main couple, I won't mind what you ship. I myself have a lot of fun shipping couples in mainstream shows, and isn't reading all about finding joy? You can imagine freely or ship whoever you like, just don't break up or reverse the top/bottom positions of the main couple.”

(I realise that the 不拆不逆 “no splitting or reversing” rule might be implicit within the entire Chinese danmei fandom, so i do not wish to single mxtx out. for example, i know that Chinese 2ha fans also go around policing people who ship, say, chu wanning with shi mei — so this isn’t just a mxtx thing. although i do not know if other danmei authors have explicitly stated “no splitting or reversing” since i have not been a part of other danmei fandoms.)

Nevertheless, “no splitting or reversing” became the constitution in Chinese mxtx fandom. Fans parade around with the slogan “拆逆死“ which means “kill yourself if you split or reverse”. Since the pronunciation of 拆逆死 (chai-ni-si) sounds like “chinese”, some fans on the Chinese internet have been putting “chinese” in their bios to mean “kill yourself if you split or reverse”.

From now on I will be referring to split/reverse ships as cult ships, as Chinese fans like to call them.

There are two main consequences of the “no splitting or reversing” rule (on the Chinese internet):

You will receive permanent bans with no option for appeal if you post cult ship fanworks in the novel communities on Weibo

It is implicitly agreed upon that you are not allowed to use individual character tags, the novel tag, or the author tag when posting cult ship content on any platform. So, for example, if you write Wei Wuxian x Jiang Cheng, you are not allowed to use #weiwuxian #jiangcheng #mdzs #mxtx. The name given to this conduct of tagging only your cult ship is 圈地自萌, which means “enclose a piece of land and amuse oneself within it”. You are not allowed to step out of your land. 

However, not everyone agrees with the practice of “don’t step out of your land” — this includes people from both sides of the debate. Some official shippers believe that cult shippers should not have any land to begin with, and purposefully leave the cult ship tag unblocked so they can police cult shippers at every opportunity. Some cult shippers believe that because their ship involves the individual characters, originate from the novel written by the author, they are in the right to use the individual character tags, the novel tag, and the author tag, and that people who dislike their ship should just use the block function. 

-

Moral Arguments

There are two main types of moral arguments that Chinese official shippers make.

1. If you split the official ship, you condone cheating behaviour and that makes you a bad person.

The first argument is too trivial so I will leave the refutation as an exercise for the reader to do at home /j

2. You are not respecting the author's wishes and that makes you a bad person.

The author has wished many different things. For example:

Screenshot 1 translation: I strictly forbid any crowdfunding or fundraising related to me, my works, or my characters, regardless of the purpose, whether it be for celebration, group buying, rankings, charity, or any other named activities.

Screenshot 2 translation: Once again, I emphasize: No new social media pages related to my works are allowed, nor organizing readers in a roundabout way, whether it be for celebrations, group buying, rankings, charity, or any other named activities. Please also refrain from flamboyantly organizing any collective birthday events.

Screenshot 3 translation: I've repeated many things many times and do not wish to repeat myself. Could everyone please just listen to my words occasionally.

(A brief aside before I address the second argument, something I used to say when debating Chinese fans: “I don’t think people who violate the author's wishes mean any disrespect. I don’t think they’re shipping or hosting charity events or birthday parties out of spite, but rather, it just so happens that the author prohibits a ship they enjoy or an event they organise. Just because I cult ship, for example, doesn’t mean I hate the author.” And they would respond: “if you really liked the author, you wouldn’t go against her wishes. You do not deserve to like the author. You are a mxtx anti.” And I would say, “I like my mom a lot, but I won’t listen to everything she says, simply because I don’t think everything she says is right. Plus, I don’t think the world can simply be explained by like vs. dislike. Also, Xie Lian said this: [For instance, if you admire or like someone, you won't always treat them well, no matter what happens.]” But then the most hilarious thing happened, in the revised version, a rebuttal for that scene was added:

【”For instance, if you admire or like someone, it doesn't mean you will always treat them well, regardless of what happens."

"Why not?" San Lang questioned. "If that's not possible, it only shows that this so-called 'liking' isn't anything significant."

Xie Lian shifted the conversation, asking, "Then... does it mean that aside from liking someone, the only other option is to dislike them? Are these the only two attitudes one can choose from?"

San Lang chuckled and retorted, "Why not? Right is right, wrong is wrong. To love is to love, to hate is to hate. Why can't things be clear and straightforward?”】

… ah.)

To address the second argument for real, i believe that producers retain no moral authority over the methods by which consumers engage with their products. for instance, i believe that choosing not to follow the official “twist, lick, and dunk” method when eating oreos does not constitute disrespect towards the oreo brand. Or to use another analogy, suppose a farmer selling apples insist that you peel the apples before eating them. I believe that it does not make you a bad person if you choose to eat the apples unpeeled, despite the farmer being the one who watered and harvested the apples from their trees.

I am thinking of potential counterarguments, and the strongest one I came up with is: “but products like oreos and apples are fundamentally different from intellectual property.” And I think the main issue here is that, to employ economics terminology, the content of novels like tgcf is a non-rivalrous good (not the novels themselves but the abstract content), which means that my consumption of it does not reduce availability to others. In other words, unlike Oreos or apples wherein after I purchase them, the specific items I bought are no longer physically in the hands of the vendor; after encountering characters like Shen Qingqiu, Shen Qingqiu still exists abstractly in MXTX’s head. This gives the illusion of ownership on the author’s part. I want to be very careful here because I think it’s easy to equivocate between different uses of the word “ownership”. I am not arguing that the author fails to retain ownership in negation of all the blood, sweat, and tears that went into the creative process, i.e. their copyright. Instead, I am contending that, just as I paid for my Oreos and apples, upon my purchasing of the Seven Seas version, the paperback Chinese version, and the revised uncensored version of TGCF on JJWXC, the author does not own the ways by which I choose to engage with these fictional entities. Once a work is made public, its ontology becomes independent of the author’s intent, and in all its readers’ heads exist distinct versions of the characters, in effect making them belong to all of us.

(There. As a bonus I have also resolved the issue of not being “chinese” enough. Ah, is this a bad place to make a communism joke?)

Addressing the legal side of things

In 2022 I wrote to the legal team at AO3, and here is their response:

Regarding the “moral rights”, that’s actually a thing. Upon receiving lots of spam from 12-yr-old readers that “you are breaking the law”, I did a quick Baidu search (China’s Google) concerning the legality of splitting/reversing ships. Surprisingly, the search results yield “yes, it’s illegal”, and hence the 12-yr-olds' confidence. But that is akin to getting a cancer diagnosis from searching symptoms on Google. So I dug deeper. 

After reading tens of published papers and court cases, here are the key takeaways of what I found:

Given that intellectual property rights are a bit behind in China, they have largely based their laws on US copyright law. As organizations like OTW continue to fight for the rights of transformative works in the US, China probably will just follow suit.

The semantics of “distort, mutilate, or otherwise harm the integrity of their works in a way that harms the author’s reputation” is very vague and debatable. There are at least three ways to interpret it (I think one of the papers I read offered four). The first is that they only have to prove that you distorted the integrity of the work. The second is that you satisfy the condition of harming the author’s reputation. The third is that you satisfy both conditions (integrity of work and author’s reputation). It depends on the court. 

None of the court cases pertained to unserious, just-for-fun fan works. Usually what happens is someone makes a film out canon, for example, and sell it for profit, or someone publishes their own novel which contains characters from another published work. 

And that is for China only^ if you live outside of China, you are under another country's jurisdiction.

-

Closing remarks

I am addressing this issue because it has impacted me and my friends in many ways. "kill yourself if you split/reverse the official ship" is probably the least of our concerns, mainly because it is such a popular phrase that we've become desensitized to it. @/Eleven receives private messages on Lofter on a weekly basis of people wishing her entire family to get murdered. A hualian main friend of mine has been posted to Weibo for following me; and I had to pull a Shi Qingxuan with "hey let's not be friends anymore if being associated with me is gonna get you cancelled".

mxtx has been through a lot and i understand where she's coming from. and maybe, the people who identify as "kill yourself if you split/reverse the official ship" don't truly mean it -- maybe they're just expressing their love for the official ship.

Recently i've been seeing the sentiments I used to only witness in Chinese fandom surface on Twitter and sometimes I worry that western mxtx fandom is going to turn into Chinese mxtx fandom, with the in-group/out-group mentality -- you're either with us or against us. At the end of the day, I do like mxtx, I admire her tenacity and I think she's a brilliant author, I love her works and the characters in them. I simply do not want to be backed into the corner of "anti" due to not following every order she gives.

祝墨香和她的粉丝们平安。

[matryosika]

Recording Sessions

Pairing — 3racha and Reader

Wordcount — 3,485 words

Genre — Smut

Warnings — Dom!Chan and Changbin, Switch(sub lean)!Jisung, consensual voice recording. Dirty talk, use of petnames (slut), mild humiliation, oral sex (m. receiving), brief spanking, unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, mild cum play, sex in a recording booth.

Autor's note — Wrote this a while ago for a commission, but as I was lurking through my google drive I found this again. I think its fun and I've been meaning to post something for a while now, but I can't get anything done sadly. I think I wrote this back in may or june? I am not too sure, but I hope you like it! I've been writing for NCT these days and I have 2 wips for them. I'm also working on something with Lee Know as a character. I hope I can get any of that finished soon! Hope you enjoy this, and I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes in advance 🤍

“Do any of you even know what a real moan sounds like?”

The look on their faces is amusing. Hadn't you been inside the recording booth, you're sure Changbin would have already headlocked you in a playful manner for running your mouth. 

But you are inside the recording booth, the three of them sitting in the studio with frustration written all over their faces.

“This sounds so fake,” you continue, taking off the headset. “What did you type in youtube to get this sample? Women moaning ASMR?”

“You’re not being helpful at all, you know that?” Changbin asks, trying to keep a serious demeanor but failing almost miserably every time he remembers the audio samples that are currently as background vocals in their upcoming song. They do sound awful, but he isn't as straight-forward as you are.

“Well, you asked for my opinion and I’m giving it to you,” the smug look on your face pisses off Chan just a little, but it is nothing new —the endless bickering between the both of you has happened ever since you two met. It's always light-hearted and friendly, but it surely does bring some tension into your friendship with him.

“Any ideas on how we can improve this?” 

“For once, get rid of all the fake moaning and get something that actually sounds like a woman being pleasured,” you instruct them, and smile when you see the three of them paying attention to your words. They have such abilities when it comes to music and producing, but they often look for constructive criticism outside their small group of three just to see things from different perspectives. “We don’t sound like that, it’s more like gasping for air and deep sighs accompanied with mostly quiet moans. This sounds like someone shouting exaggeratedly”.

“I’ve tried,” Chan murmurs, leaning back on his studio chair that he spins slightly. “But nothing sounds right. It’s a bit too much, maybe”.

“No, I do think the song calls for background sounds like these,” you encourage the trio. “It’s just- you need something more raw and real”.

There’s a quick moment of silence in which the four of you exchange glances, without exactly saying anything in particular.

Changbin and Chan look too deep into their own thoughts, probably trying to come up with another idea or alternative for that sound sample you all hate so much. Jisung, on the other hand, is staring right into you through the glass barrier that separates you from them, with an idea in mind he’s not quite sure how to deliver, but that he ends up doing it anyway. 

“What if we record you?” Jisung asks, drawing the scowling glances of the other two. “I mean, you can obviously fake them since you're a woman, right?” 

The suggestion has you cackling quietly, but even Chan and Changbin are considering it —you can tell by how they're looking at you as if they're expecting your verdict.

“Right,” you scoff, crossing both of your arms in front of your chest, “because what better way to spend my Saturday afternoon than faking moans inside a recording booth”. 

“It’s not going to take you long,” It’s Chan who speaks this time. The one you thought was going to be the least to be on board with such a crazy idea. “We all know this isn’t going to be the first time you fake them”. 

Your mouth opens in awe and you curse them mentally when they all laugh under their breaths. It was just one time, with a guy you didn’t even like, and you told them about it because you wanted to get the embarrassing memory out of your system. You were too bored, and desperate to go, that you ended up faking a series of moans that tricked him into thinking you were finished. 

“Very funny, Christopher,” you spit, resentful. “I thought you promised not to bring that shit up, ever again”.

“And I thought you promised you’d help us,” Chan attacks, “so what is it going to be?”

You look at them for a couple of seconds, pondering the situation. You can help them, you really have nothing better to do —yet a better idea comes to mind. 

“Why faking it if you can have the real deal?” you ask, nibbling at the skin against your fingernails. You’re trying to appear collected, but even suggesting such a crazy idea it’s making you feel uneasy. Unless you've gotten the signals wrong, you know they won't turn down such a proposal. “You’re all just sitting there, when one of you could help me”.

It’s Jisung who leans down over the console, clicking a red button to open the microphone.

“What exactly are you proposing?”

“Well, you were the one who pinned this on me, Han,” judging by their facial expressions, you know they understood exactly what you meant. They just want to make sure you are all on the same page. “Why don’t you come here and help me, so we can get this over with?”

“Why him?” Changbin immediately asks, offended even because you didn't consider him as your first option.

“Do you want to help me too?” you chuckle, “because I wouldn’t mind if you joined”.

“Han,” Chan’s cold voice interrupts the silence, catching the attention of the younger. He doesn’t say anything else, but rather signals for him to get inside the recording booth with a tilt of his head.

Jisung doesn’t say anything either, but his eyes flutter between you and Chan, almost begging for further instructions. He hesitates, perplexed. Not because he doesn’t want this, but because he really can’t begin to comprehend this is really happening.

“If you don’t want to, Changbin can do it,” the older speaks again.

“N-no, I mean- I can do it,” Jisung stands up from his studio chair abruptly and hastily, like he is in a rush. To be honest, he kind of is —he has been daydreaming of this moment ever since he met you, so he isn't going to waste it. Even if that means there are going to be other people watching or involved. “I just- what do I do?”

Chan and Changbin scoff quietly, teasing him. “You should ask her that question,” the former replies, crossing both of his arms and leaning back on his chair, “not us”.

“Yeah, okay”. 

Jisung walks inside the booth, swallowing thickly. Is he really about to do this? Is he dreaming? Or is this some sort of a sick joke?

He can’t help but overthink the situation, but every single one of his thoughts goes away when you welcome him into your embrace, holding him tightly against your body with his half-hard cock pressing against your lower abdomen and your tits against his toned chest. The other two are watching, and that only riles him up a lot more.

“Have you ever been this shy?” You tease him, wrapping your arms around his neck and brushing your lips against his. “You’re always so cocky, always running your mouth. But right now you aren’t. I wonder why”. 

“We don’t have that much time,” Chan warns you through the speakers, and you can feel the despair in his voice. Like Changbin, he’s anticipating something and you’re edging them, just like you are to Jisung. 

“Then I’m going to need more help,” you hum, latching your fingers against Jisung’s dark hair while pulling him closer to the crook of your neck. He loses no time and starts kissing and licking the sensitive flesh, hiding his face there. You, on the other hand, look through the glass barrier proudly to the other two who are out. “From the both of you”. 

“One isn’t enough for you? Do you need the three of us?” Chan asks, poking his cheek with his tongue. Changbin, on the other hand, observes the scene in awe, with both excitement and impatience. You don't reply, but shoot an accomplice glance at the older. “I always knew you were some of a slut, I just didn’t think this much”.

“Well, now you know,” you smile, biting your lower lip when Jisung sucks on a sensitive spot a bit too harshly, “so start recording”. 

The following moments are blurry, perhaps because of how nervous you are. You try to act in control, like you're the one calling the shots. But when you feel the three of them near you, with their hands all over you, it's hard to. 

“You’re not that bold now, are you?” Chan whispers in your ear, pressing your arse against his crotch. To your sides, there’s Jisung and Changbin, who grope and kiss your body as much as the other allows them to.

“I’m doing this for you,” you sigh, kicking your head back until it meets Chan’s shoulder. 

“Right,” he scoffs, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you to kneel in front of Changbin and Jisung. “We just wanted your advice, but somehow we ended up like this”.

“I wonder why,” you tease him looking up to him while your hands tease the men in front of you.

“I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s such a filthy slut,” Changbin murmurs, caressing your hair back. 

You can feel them through their sweatpants —you can feel how hard and ready they are for you, how desperate they are for your touch. You wish to take your sweet time with them, to suck the three of until they come in your mouth only to fuck you afterwards. 

You want more than just a quick fuck. But this will have to do for now.

“Suck them off,” Chan orders, pleased with the sight of you on your knees. 

Good thing you’re wearing such accessible clothes today —you’re making his job ten times easier.

“Get us nice and wet, baby,” Changbin proceeds, pulling your head against his crotch while he lowers his sweatpants just enough to release his throbbing cock. “We’re going to fuck you with it, so it’s up to you how easy you’re going to make this for yourself”.

“Don’t forget Jisung too,” the one behind you murmurs into your ear, practically kneeling right beside you while he pulls up your dress, revealing a shameful piece of clothing that he can barely name as underwear. The sight makes Chan’s cock throb even harder. “See how much he’s leaking? I know he has been dreaming of this for a while now”. 

“Fucker,” Jisung hisses through gritted teeth, feeling betrayed by his friend. Truth is, he isn’t telling any lies.

“Aw, you have?” He has been infatuated with you for quite some time now, and he is too awkward to be discreet about it. You have caught him checking you out shamelessly, and it has always been a turn on for you. 

“We all have,” Changbin says, nibbling at his lower lip when you wrap your hand around his cock. You squeeze both of them hard, staring up at them with a mischievous smile. “If only you knew what we talk about when you’re not around”. 

“Mh, I feel a little excluded now,” you pout. “Why don’t you guys just show me?”

You spent another ten minutes on your knees, being throat fucked by your dearest friends Changbin and Jisung. They take turns in burying their cocks inside your warm mouth, using your hair as leverage to let you know which one of them to suck next.

In the meantime, Chan just watches. 

You’re drooling all over yourself by now, your shirt ruined with a mixture of spit, precum and sweat. Your skin feels sticky, your mouth feels full and your pussy feels wet —you really wouldn’t be surprised if the floor was stained with your arousal.

“C’me here,” Chan tells you, grabbing you by your arm and helping you get in a different position. Your knees are bruised and red, but you don’t really care —tomorrow it will be a fun reminder of what happened today. “Now let’s really start recording”. 

You lay on the floor on all fours, with your ass up and your hands and knees supporting your body weight. It's an uncomfortable position, but you can only do much in a recording booth with no bed or couches.

The first one to take a spot right behind you is Changbin. Out of the three, it’s the one who seems more desperate to get his release and you kind of understand him —you’re desperate to feel something too, anything.

“I don’t have-” his voice is strangled, almost panicking. You can feel his hands gripping your hips, and the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. 

“I don’t care,” you encourage him, whimpering when Chan forces your head to face his throbbing dick that he has his fist wrapped around. “Just fuck me”.

It’s the heat of the moment that's getting the best out of you, but you can’t begin to regret it when you feel Changbin’s cock burying itself little by little inside your aching pussy. You try to hold back your moans, worrying that someone outside the hall might hear you, but you know it’s practically impossible.

Plus, that’s the reason why you’re there, anyways.

 So you start enjoying the moment, being as vocal as possible. If anything, the lewd sounds escaping through your lips are only pushing Changbin towards the edge, hips snapping at yours roughly enough to get a series of strained moans immersed in both pleasure and pain.

“You sound so g-good,” Changbin grunts, biting his lower lip to stop himself from being too loud. “Had I known your moans were this pretty, I've would've fucked you before”.

“Fuck, Changbin”. The way his name falls from your lips boosts his ego, and he’s glad everything is being recorded. He makes a mental note to go back to the recording later today, just in case he needs to unwind.

“Jisung will fuck you after him,” Chan demands your attention yet again, brushing the tip of his cock against your lips. He’s kneeling in front of you while Changbin is pounding your pussy from behind. Jisung, on the other hand, is stroking himself while he witnesses the scene; too shy to actually make a move himself, like the rest of them. “And then I will go next, how does that sound?”

“How many seconds- of the sample do you even need?” you chuckle, but the laugh is soon muffled by another whimper caused by Changbin’s ministrations. 

“Just a couple,” he replies, smearing his precum along your lips. “But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to leave this studio without being fucked by Jisung and me, right?”

You love his cockiness, and how he is always almost right. So you nod frantically, clenching around Changbin at the idea of being filled with the both of them in just a couple of seconds.

It doesn’t take him long to come inside you, especially not with how much your pussy is clenching around him. He does so shamelessly, grunting your name and gripping your hips too harshly you’re sure it will leave a mark tomorrow.

When he pulls out, commanded by Jisung who is too desperate to wait another second, you feel his sticky arousal leaking out of you. It’s a weird sensation, and it makes you feel dirty, but you can’t deny you like it. 

And you like it even more when you feel the tip of Jisung’s cock gathering all of his friend’s cum, fucking it back into you little by little, making sure it doesn’t go to waste.

“Who would’ve thought, hm?” You whimper, feeling a bit sore from Changbin’s aggressive care. “You’re not as innocent as I thought, Jisungie”.

He doesn’t say anything, but gives you a sharp thrust in response. One that makes your whole body jolt and tremble, one that earns you one of the prettiest moans the three of them have ever heard.

Chan is sure the recording is good to be used by now, but he doesn’t want to stop just yet. Or at least not until he also gets his fun.

“S-so tight,” Jisung murmurs, holding you more delicately than Changbin did. You love the contrast, though, and they’re both a good fuck. “And warm, all filled up with cum”.

“You’re going to fill me up too, Jisungie?” On any other occasion, the nickname would’ve earned you a killer gaze and a couple of curses from him. But right now, Jisung doesn’t mind. In fact, he likes it. There’s something enticing about you acting like the one in control.

“Can- I?” He asks with a shakily breath. His sloppy movements tell you he is close, and you take it as a compliment. A minute is definitely a record, but you’re really not mad about it. 

“That depends,” you tease him, crying out loud when his cock starts hitting sensitive spots inside your walls. “Are you going to come a lot for me?” 

“Ngh, y-yes,” Jisung whimpers. “Please, I’m- close, just let- say yes, please”.

“Go on,” you order him, arching your ass even more for him. “Give it to me”. 

Not even a couple of seconds later, you feel a now familiar sensation warming up your lower tummy, leaking through your pussy and onto your thighs. 

“Shit,” Changbin scoffs, checking the scene out. “You made a fucking mess”. 

You want to look at what he did, know how much he came for you, but Chan reinforces your initial position yet again by arching your ass even more.

“Be a good slut for me,” he tells you, landing a sharp spank on one of your ass cheeks. The sudden action makes you cry out in pain, but you don’t hate the sensation completely. “And I’ll be good to you”.

You’re not quite sure what he means, and you don’t get time to ask before he’s bottoming out inside of you. 

“Fuck!” you moan, suddenly losing the strength on your arms and your upper body threatening to plop down onto the floor. “C-chan!”

“C’me here,” he groans, sneaking a hand underneath your tummy looking for your clit. Again, the position isn’t the best but he somehow makes it work. And when you feel his digits rubbing your nerves just at the same pace of his thrusts, you start clenching around him even harder.

“Oh my g-god,” that stimulation is exactly what you need to come undone. Jisung and Changbin did a hell of a job getting you closer to your orgasm, but this is exactly what you needed to reach your climax.

And a well deserved one.

“Come,” Chan grunts through gritted teeth, biting his lower lip while furrowing his eyebrows. The sight of your ass bouncing against his cock is enough to get him to come, but he needs you to come first. “I’ll come with you”.

“Ngh- Chan,” and just like some magic words, you’re coming right after his order. He can feel you tightening around him, trying to milk his cock just as badly as you did with the other two. And he can’t resist that feeling, so he sticks up to his word and comes inside you almost at the same time. 

“Such- a good- little fucking slut,” his words are strained and painful. But his voice only contributes more to your own orgasm, just like the feeling of his cum filling you up. 

It takes the two of you a few moments to actually stop —even after coming, he kept on fucking you slowly until he made sure to fuck all of their cum inside of you. The last thing he wanted was to make a mess inside the recording booth, but it was inevitable. 

The floor is stained with all sorts of fluids, ones that are dripping out of your swollen pussy and others that no one knows how they got there. 

“Jisung,” Chan sighs, caressing your hips while fixing his clothes. “Stay with her, I’ll go get something to clean her up. Make sure she’s alright, and take her to the sofa in the studio, ‘kay?”

Jisung nods, attentive, and he helps you get up off the floor with ease. He wraps his arm around you, and fixes the top part of your dress to which you mutter a quick and soft thank you. 

“Changbin’s going to get you something to eat or drink, and I’ll take care of this. Alright?” 

You nod, still supporting your whole weight on Jisung. Your sore legs can only do much.

“He’s going to be with you in the meantime, but we will all be right back,” Chan’s soft gaze is the opposite to what he showed inside the recording booth, but you absolutely adore the contrast. 

“Yeah, ‘s okay,” you smile. 

“You did good, yeah?” Chan smiles, caressing your hair, “sounded so pretty for us”.

You offer them a weak, yet satisfied smile, “my pleasure”. 

[roosterforme]

In the Line of Duty | Rooster x Reader

Summary: During preparations for a dangerous mission, Bradley finds comfort in writing his thoughts down for his unborn child to eventually read. There's always a chance that he won't make it back, and his final plans involve safeguarding the most important item he brought on his deployment with him.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, pregnancy topics

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley was in the same tiny room with the same seven people for the nineteenth day in a row. He was sweating, too aware of his surroundings. He could hear Reuben breathing next to him. He could hear Admiral Turner's wristwatch counting off every second. He could hear the plans being laid out, but he could barely focus on them.

"The political climate is rapidly changing," the admiral said. "This bombing run is essential, however it will undoubtedly lead to a hostile environment for our allies. Getting the timing just right is essential to a successful mission."

He'd been telling the aviators the same things for days, and while Bradley knew somebody's best interest was at heart, he wasn't really sure it was his. Or Reuben's. Or anybody's in this fucking claustrophobic room. But what choice did he have but to sit here in his flight suit, reeking of jet fuel until he was released?

"Also," Admiral Turner said, his voice laced with exhaustion, "we'll be keeping a close watch on the weather. If you fly this mission, it's going to be a rough takeoff and an even rougher landing. And that's not even mentioning the elements you'll encounter in the air."

Bradley could feel it. The aircraft carrier was a massive vessel, nothing like a cruise ship or anything smaller. It was built to withstand typhoons and hurricanes, but he could still feel it. The movement was getting worse by the hour now. There were deckhands and petty officers walking around with seasickness bags. People were running from the mess hall left and right. The only thing that could be said of this small group of aviators in this tiny ass room was that professional fighter pilots had all traces of motion sickness eliminated from their bodies during flight training, never to be heard from again. He wasn't uncomfortable, but he could still feel it.

"And with that final precaution, I've made my selection for the three pilots who will fly when I say it's time to go." Bradley knew it in his bones even before he heard the admiral say, "Vandal. Patches. Rooster. Everyone else will remain on standby. You're all dismissed."

As he stood, Reuben stuck his fist out. "Congrats, man," he said, and Bradley reached out as well to bump fists. Being chosen was an accomplishment; Bradley always wanted to be chosen. He always wanted to perform to the best of his ability. But his thoughts were so heavy now, filled with new hopes and fears. 

"Thanks, Payback," he replied, following his friend from the room and into the noisy reprieve of the cool hallway. There were people rushing around as the two of them made their way to the mess hall. "But if I have to sit in that room for another day, I'm going to lose my mind."

Reuben laughed as he started to load a tray with food. "I love how the weather is too bad for us to do any training runs, but in the same sentence, we're told to be ready to fly a mission in this. It's like they're steering us right into the worst of the storm."

They were. Bradley could tell they were. There was something strategic about the open water location, but they were absolutely heading into the worst of it. He just hoped it would clear up before he was called out on deck to fly. 

"It's a good thing I haven't barfed in a Super Hornet since that very first time," he said, also piling food that he knew would taste like cardboard onto a plate.

"This shit sucks," Reuben muttered, biting into a roll once they reached an empty table. "We got any more of your wife's cookies back in the bunk?"

Bradley smiled as he looked at the questionable meal in front of him. "A few." He bit into the steak and grimaced. Everything you cooked at home was better than this. He'd trade his whole plate of food right now for half of a grilled cheese sandwich made by your hands. Just thinking about it had his stomach growling louder. "You already ate most of them."

Reuben popped another roll into his mouth and chewed it up before saying, "Rooster, you've got a hot lieutenant commander who can cook for a wife. And a baby on the way. Come on, man. The least you can do is spare some more of those cookies."

Once he let his thoughts drift, Bradley knew it would take hours to get focused on his job again, but he couldn't help it. When he left home, you looked the same as you always did. You'd been complaining about your weight gain and bloating for weeks, but you looked just perfect to him. He wanted to get back home to see if you had a bump yet. He wanted to get home and talk to the Nugget. But he'd already been gone for three weeks, and he hadn't been given a single chance to call or FaceTime with you. 

He hated having no idea how your most recent doctor's appointment went. There were probably new ultrasound photos sitting right on the kitchen counter, but it could be weeks before he got to see how much the Nugget grew since last time. He should be a home, catering to your every whim and building the massive jungle gym for the backyard.

"Are you excited?" Reuben asked, breaking through his thoughts. "You've got what, like five more months to go before you're a dad?"

"One hundred and eighty-six days until the due date," Bradley replied with a grin. "And yeah, I'm pretty fucking excited. It's all I can think about." He tried to finish all of the food, but he set his plate aside and said, "Let's go eat some of those cookies."

An hour later, Bradley was sitting in his bunk, nibbling on the rationed baked goods while Reuben snored across the room. He took this opportunity to get out the pink and blue striped notebook which he affectionately referred to as the Nugget notebook. He'd filled half of it with his musings, and he figured it would be full by your due date. It was silly, just his random thoughts and some sporadic story telling, but he liked the idea of his kid having all of this to look at later. He uncapped his pen, jotted down the date, and started writing what was on his mind. 

You'll never guess where I am right now. No really. It would be impossible, because even I don't really know where I am! But it's somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, I know that for sure. And while I'm really, really far away from you and your mom right now, the two of you are all I can think about....

-------------------------

The weather was so bad a few days later that the gym was closed. Bradley and Reuben stood in front of the locked door in their gym clothes looking at each other. 

"This is fucking wild," Bradley muttered, deprived of the only activity he could think of to keep himself busy. The hallways were pretty empty at this time of night, but everything still felt more deserted than usual. The dining menus had been pared down, presumably because half of the kitchen staff was too seasick to make everything. He was starting to feel anxious. "Let's go workout in the bunk and then finish the cookies."

"Sounds good," Reuben replied. They took turns churning out sets of fifty push ups while the other ate a cookie. They did this until they were both sweating and all of the cookies were officially gone.

"Now what the fuck are we supposed to do?" Bradley asked, but any response was cut off by a knocking on the door. He jumped up, glanced at Reuben, and then opened the door for a petty officer. 

"Bradshaw?"

"Yeah?"

"You requested a FaceTime call? Report to the lounge in thirty minutes."

"Thanks," he said, heart beating wildly as he closed the door. He rushed around the room, grinning and grabbing everything he'd need to take a quick shower.

Reuben just laughed and said, "Please thank her again for the cookies."

"Will do," Bradley replied, making a mad dash for the showers. If he did the math correctly, he figured it was between four and five o'clock in the morning back home in San Diego. He hated calling you in the middle of the night, especially when you were pregnant and exhausted, but he knew you'd forgive him. And he desperately needed to see your face and hear your voice.

His hair was still damp when he jogged along the quiet corridors toward the lounge and took a seat in front of one of the computers. He quickly entered his credentials followed by your phone number, and then he waited and waited. "Shit," he muttered, gripping the edge of the table, afraid the call was going to ring through and then cut off. But then he heard you screech his name and saw you as you reached for your glasses while the light from the lamp on your nightstand illuminated your face. 

"Bradley!" you practically screamed again, your voice scratchy from sleep. "Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he said, feeling calmer than he had in weeks as you juggled your phone around and tried to sit up fully in bed. "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

"No, no, no, this is perfect!" you insisted, rubbing your eye behind your glasses as you tried to stifle a yawn. "This is great."

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you insisted, and he could see the sincerity on your face. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are."

He wanted to kiss you. He wished he could somehow dive through the screen and end up next to you where you'd pull him right into your arms. His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile was soft, and you bit your lip. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his rough hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

The fact that he knew that's where they would be made him smile. When you propped your phone up next to the stove and turned on the light, he felt tears stinging his eyes. You held up one of the photos so he could see the baby, and he had to blink past his blurry vision. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

Your laughter sounded beautiful as you showed him a third one. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the baby picture away, and he could see your face again as you said, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you said, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now Bradley felt like crying for a totally different reason. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

"Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

Bradley looked at your beautiful face and the perfect curve of your cheek. He imagined a little baby in your arms with the same flawless features. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your smile was brilliant as you told him, "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

Bradley opened his mouth to say he couldn't wait to come home and spend a full day curled up with both of you. He was about to ask you to pull his UVA shirt up and let him see what your belly looked like now. But the lounge door swung open so hard, it sounded like it was going to fall off the hinges.

"Bradshaw!" barked Admiral Turner. "It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," he said before glancing back down to see your face as you started to cry.

"You have to go," you sobbed.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he promised, even though he knew he couldn't guarantee anything of the sort. "I love you."

After he ended the call, he ran back to the bunk where Reuben was already in his flight suit and pulling on his boots. It was late enough now that it had to be dark outside, so he was either about to fly another mission without the use of one of his senses, or they were sending him out at first light. Either way, he knew what he had to do, so he pulled his own flight suit on with shaky hands.

The call with you had calmed his nerves right up until the point when he had to abruptly end it. What he wouldn't give to be back home within a week. He'd drive you to the appointment in his Bronco and hold your hand the whole time. Dr. Morris would let you know if he was going to be the dad to a daughter or a son. His little Nugget.

"You ready?" Reuben asked as Bradley finished lacing up his boots. 

He looked up at his friend as he stood. "Actually, no," he said, pulling his duffle out from under his bed. He started rooting through it as he said, "I need you to potentially do me a favor."

"Sure," Reuben replied, "but we gotta get to the meeting room now, Rooster."

"I know," he mumbled in response as his hands connected with the most important thing he had with him. He held up the pink and blue notebook, his voice calm in spite of his nerves as he said, "Just real quick, you see this? I need you to take this back to my wife if anything happens to me."

His friend was silent for a beat before he said, "Alright. I can do that."

Bradley's fingers tightened around the spiral binding holding together all of his thoughts about fatherhood and how much he loved his unborn child. And now his voice shook a bit as he said, "This is very important to me."

Reuben nodded and said, "Understood. I promise I'll take care of it if the need arises."

"Thank you." Bradley kissed the striped cover and propped the notebook up against his pillow, giving it one last look before he followed Reuben from the bunk.

At first light, Bradley made his way out onto the carrier deck through the rain and whistling wind. The mission was on. The weather was miserable, but the plethora of Naval officers deemed this the best opportunity they were going to get to help their allies. 

It was time. Time for Bradley to trust himself. And if he failed, he trusted Reuben to take the notebook back to San Diego and get it into the hands of his wife. Then you'd take care of the notebook for the Nugget. Because if there was one person who was never going to let him down, it was you.

-------------------------

I can't deal with how much I've been hurting my own feelings with these two. Should we start a new series? Would that be okay? A tragic, new series? Thank you for reading about and loving them! Please stay tuned. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[creamhoodie]

Hot Kettle

synopsis: "Reader is a new teacher at Jujutsu High school. She and Gojo have mutual feelings for each other but she at first thinks he is a player and avoids him. After being snowed in and spending time with each other, they learn more about each other.

A/N:Not sure how I feel about this but I've been working on it for weeks and have writer's block when trying to write anything else.

tags/warnings: NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, fluff, afab reader. Switching perspectives between Gojo & Reader. Flashback scenes written in italics. Other jjk characters mentioned.

word count: 8.2K

Snow flurries fell on the campus of Tokyo Jujutsu High and the ground had frozen into crystals.

You had only been working as a professor here for four months and it was your first winter here. 

Principal Yaga had sent out an email saying that classes were canceled. Of course the students rejoiced, but for faculty members snow days meant faculty meetings. 

You made your way to the designated meeting spot now, your snow boots clicking along the ice as you made your way into the building. 

Upon arrival, you found the room empty. Strange. Surely this had been the designated meeting room as stated in Principle Yaga’s email. 

Perhaps you were early? You had a tendency to arrive notoriously early for meetings and events. No matter, it gave you enough time to pop into the lounge room and heat up your ramen as a substitute for the breakfast you had skipped in order to arrive on time. 

You made your way into the lounge room that was only two doors over. It was also empty, but that was expected given the ghostlike fashion of the building besides your presence. You placed your tote bag down on the table and took out your heatable ramen. Fortunately you had packed a plastic fork. 

That meant the only thing you needed was water. The kettle was out already, strange but there was nothing suspicious about this given that and the toaster were often left out after use and not put away into their assigned cabinets. 

You went to grab it and as you did let out a blood curdling shriek as the white hot pain in your palm and fingers signified it had recently been used. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Oh my god we’re sorry Professor!”

“What do you mean we? I told you to put it away!” 

As your eyes opened, having winced them from the pain, your eyes focused to find three of the students: Megumi fushiguro, Yuiji Itadori, and Nobara Kugisaki.

They were all staring at you with concern and from the mugs they were holding in their hands and their words you pieced together that they were the culprits.

You didn’t have a chance to respond however as footsteps came running over and to add more insult to injury, your fellow faculty members were peering in: Principale Yaga, Mei-Mei, Kento Nanami, and of course dreadfully… Satoru Gojo. 

You felt his eyes watching you underneath his blind fold.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice sounded unusually harsh.

“We wanted to make hot chocolate and we were in a rush because afterwards we were gonna have a snowball fight using our techniques. I guess we didn’t put the kettle away properly and the Professor here got burnt,” Yuji explained for the group. 

His explanation did nothing to dissuade Gojo however.

“And how many times have we told everyone to put the kettle away properly so that this doesn’t happen?” 

By this point, all eyes were on Gojo. He was sounding so stern and angry, nothing like himself. He was usually the most carefree of the adults. 

“Gojo, it’s okay. They didn’t mean to, I should have been more careful,” you said. 

“No it’s not okay,” Gojo said, going up to you now, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t even realized had been shed from the pain. 

Now your face was flushing and you were glad that the onlookers would just take it as embarrassment from the situation not knowing that there was more at play here, that there was history between you and the blind folded man which added to your embarrassment.

“That’s enough. Gojo, would you escort her to Shoko please? She should still be in her office since she hadn’t met with us yet for the meeting,” Principal Yaga said. 

“Can Nanami escort me instead please?” you asked.

You didn’t want to be alone with Gojo, it would only make things more awkward, no right now you needed to be with anyone but him. 

“That’s fine with me, I’ll go with you,” Nanami said, ever the gentleman. 

You gave an apologetic smile to the students as you followed Nanami.

“Oh and Nanami? Relay to Shoko that the meeting is canceled. I’m sure given the morning’s events and the weather that’s the last night anyone wants to do,” Principal Yaga said. 

You felt several eyes watching you as you followed your tan suited escort, but only one pair of those eyes mattered, pairs that you had actively been trying to avoid. 

The thing you enjoyed about Kento Nanami was that he didn’t pry, meaning he wasn’t one to ask invasive questions. 

While others may have asked about Gojo and why he had reacted the way he had, Nanami had only assured you he’d get you there safely and that Shoko has healed far worse. 

He had a calm presence and demeanor, the type that set you completely at ease. That is why though you had only been here a short while he was your favorite coworker.

“I’m sorry. I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your morning,” you felt the need to apologize to him all the same. 

“It’s no matter. I’m sure you didn’t want to be burnt this morning, but life is full of things we can’t anticipate,” he replied kindly. 

You followed him to a part of the school you hadn’t been before. Luckily you've had the fortune of not having to visit Shoko for healing purposes until now. In a way it was embarrassing as you were sure Nanami had been here for much for dire wounds, battle wounds really from his missions since he was a grade 1 sorcerer. But Nanami didn’t judge, he wasn’t the type to goad or say hurtful things. 

After what felt like forever due to the burning sensation in your hand, you two at last arrived in a wing of the school that seemed more like a hospital with its medical items laid out and its fluorescent light. A figure with long brown hair was slumped in a swivel chair in front of a computer.

“Shoko?” Nanami asked, shaking her shoulder slightly so she’d wake up.

Her eyes fluttered open and as if she could sense it she seemed to know there was a problem.

“What is it? Who needs to be healed?” She asked, but she answered her question upon looking at your tear stained face. 

She stood up and took your hand. Her gaze shifted between you and Nanami, clearly questioning.

“The kids left the hot kettle out and she got burnt,” he explained.

“Ahh,” she said in understanding. 

Your face flushed even more. It was so embarrassing. But Shoko was focused on healing you now and her mind had gone into the place only she and few others knew.

You watched as she worked her magic. You had heard others speak about it in awe but having never witnessed it yourself, it was amazing to see. Your palm and fingers once jaded red were now returned to their baby soft pink, they seemed even more soft than before as if you had just been reborn. Most importantly, there was no pain. Matter of fact if it wasn’t for your current location and Nanami at your side, you would have almost thought you dreamt the whole thing.

“Better?” Shoko asked, her eyes were dim and jaded and you remembered thinking how she always looked sad. 

It had always been strange to you how someone with an ability capable of performing miracles could be so sad but you chalked it up to the fact that healing wounds lost its charm when it was those close to you on the brink of life and death.

“Thank you,” you said as she slumped back into her previous position.

Nanami filled her in on the meeting’s cancellation as she took out a cigarette and lit it. 

The first time you had met Satoru Gojo was in one of the faculty meetings that he had hosted at his place. It was your first faculty meeting in fact, and it had been hosted on your third week at the job.

By then you had met all the others, besides him. 

You had been filled in on the details about him from students to faculty alike and had gathered a mosaic of him from their words: the strongest, childish, intelligent, 

Those were all adjectives that had been used to describe him.

However, nothing had prepared you for when he had asked for you to stay behind once the meeting had been dismissed and everyone else had left.

“You’re new. We haven’t been properly introduced,” he said to you then outstretched his big hand for you to shake.

“I don’t really think you need an introduction. I’ve heard a lot about you,” you said, noticing how he still held your hand in his own despite the shake being far from over.

“And what is it you’ve heard?” He asked in a teasing fashion, his lips curled up at the ends.

“Only that you're the strongest sorcerer, Nanami said you’re childish, the students like you a lot,” you paused.

“What is it?” He probed. 

“I’ve been told you have these eyes that are so vividly blue,” you said, not being able to hide your curiosity.

He chuckled in understanding.

“You want to see them? You can take my blindfold off,” he said. 

At last he released your hand so you were able to do so. You had to stand on your tippy toes and he had bent down to help you as you flipped up the blindfold so it was resting on his forehead. 

You had gasped at the mesmerizing blue that was like no other.

“Like them?” he teased. 

His words had sent a jolt of heat in somewhere you were sure was not appropriate. 

“They are beautiful,” you had found yourself whispering. 

After that encounter, you and Gojo had experienced various flirtatious exchanges. The two of you had only gotten physical once and it had been unexpected. 

You had been cleaning up your classroom, the students having long been dismissed when he had come in.

“Still here?” He teased. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said offhandedly ignoring how his presence next to you, heat radiating off his body was making you nervous. You finished wiping off the chalk board and looked up at him. 

“Lonely at home?” he continued to tease. 

“No,” you said a little too defensively before adding, “I just like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

It was true, you had shared it with him in one of your lounge room talks where he had asked you about your background. You were a foreigner that had cursed energy and had taught at a non sorcery university in your home country. Having heard of Jujutsu High and being introduced to Principal Yaga through a mutual connection, the principal had then invited you to come teach at Jujutsu High. 

“That’s right, I’m sorry,” he said, tugging at a strand of your hair.

“Why are you still here anyways?” you asked, turning the question back on him. 

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he answered honestly.

“Me?” you asked dumbfounded. 

He chuckled, stepping forward.

“How long are we gonna do this dance, princess?” he asked, calling you the nickname he had coined for you. 

“What dance?” you asked.

But you knew, of course you knew. All those flirty exchanges, light touches, teasing, and lounge room talks weren’t for anything. 

“That we don’t want each other,” he said simply. 

“And who says I want you?” you asked defensive again. Okay maybe you did want him, but he didn’t have to be so arrogant about it. 

“Hmm. Well what was it you said about my eyes again? ‘They are so beautiful.’ “

You flushed in anger and embarrassment now and tried to push past him, but he held onto you effortlessly by your shoulders. You were pinned against the chalkboard.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your body instantly relaxed, you felt him smile at that. 

He was right of course, even if he had gone about it in the way he had, there was no denying the sexual tension and chemistry between the two of you. 

Giving yourself over to it now, you moaned as his lips moved to your neck, teething slightly at the skin. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he groaned into your skin. 

Your hands went to his hair, fisting the soft white locks. 

Nothing else seemed to exist besides you and him. 

“Gojo,” you whined wrapping your legs around his waist and he seemed to know exactly what you needed as he hoisted you up easily and placed you on your desk, notebooks clattering on the floor. 

“Fuck,” he cursed as your long skirt spilled around your thighs revealing your silky skin and damp underwear. 

You bit your lip as his fingers found your clit. You felt like you were in heaven and his name had spilled from your lips over and over again like a prayer. 

Satoru Gojo…

Of course you had wanted him who wouldn’t? He was impossibly handsome, he had truly won the genetic  lottery in more ways than one, and he was so gifted with his fingers that were making you reach new heights even you hadn’t taken yourself to.  

That line of thinking created a problem brewing in your mind: Everyone wanted him.

So what made you different? You were the new girl on the block, and you didn’t know him all that well despite your talks with him. You didn’t know him all that long. Maybe you had been overthinking, but it was that thinking that had taken you out of the mood.

“Gojo stop,” you choked out. 

His movements stilled, hearing the tone in your voice.

“Is something wrong?” He asked. 

You couldn’t exactly tell him your worries as you didn’t want to make things awkward. Besides what were you supposed to say? ‘I’m worried I’m just another one of your quick hook ups?’ You didn’t want to be clingy or weird especially if he just saw this as a casual encounter.

“No, no, everything is fine. I just should be going now it’s getting late,” you rambled straightening yourself up and standing up from the desk. 

You had been grateful you hadn’t seen his eyes as you were sure they were confused.

“Well can I  walk you to your car?” he offered. 

“No, that’s not necessary but thank you for your concern,” you had stated. 

Then you had rushed off. 

Your relationship with Gojo has been rocky ever since. You actively avoided him and he started doing the same. In a way you wondered if you had bruised his ego since he had never been used to rejection. 

Having assured Nanami you would be fine, you had driven yourself home. There was no reason for you to stay on campus given the meeting’s cancellation and the snow day. Moreover, you weren’t up to sticking around because of the morning’s embarrassing events. 

You made your way into your small apartment, and kicked your shoes off.’

When you were about to settle down on your couch and watch some television, the doorbell rang. Perhaps it was Nanami doing a possible checkup on Principal Yaga’s orders? 

You opened the door and found the person you were actively avoiding: Satoru Gojo.

“You forgot this,” he said, holding up your tote bag that you had left behind in the lounge room. 

“Oh, thank you,” you replied, still stunned. You stood there frozen for too long until he cleared his throat.

“It’s kind of cold out here, you know snow day and all,” he said, shivering with emphasis.

Even though it was the last thing you wanted to do, you invited him in. 

“Make yourself comfortable. Do you want anything?” you asked, closing the door behind him and watching as he looked around your living room. 

“No, I’m good. I can make you those noodles you wanted earlier though,” he offered. 

The noodles? Oh yes, the ramen pack. You had forgotten about them. It was endearing in a way that he had even remembered them. 

Before you could answer, he was picking the plastic bowl out of your purse and heading towards the kitchen.

“That’s not really necessary..” you began to protest as you followed him but he cut you off.

“Have you eaten today?”

Your stomach betrayed you, giving a rumble by way of answer. 

He chuckled before saying, “thought so.” You watched as he filled one of the pots with water before placing it on your stove and turning it on. The kettle would have been much more straightforward but given the morning’s events you figured he didn’t want to use it. Once the water heated up enough, it didn’t take too long on account of you having a gas stove, he transferred the dry noodles from their plastic bowl container to the pot.

Watching him in this domestic setting did something to you. Though you couldn’t see his eyes, his face was calm and focused. 

“Watching me?” he teased.

Your face blushed scarlet. 

“You know it’s not really fair that you wear that blindfold around,” you said. After all, it gave him the advantage of being able to catch you gawking at him. You suspected this wasn’t the first time he had noticed. 

“Would you like me to take it off?” He asked innocently. 

Remembering your only other exchange with him that involved his unsheathed eyes, you opted against shaking your head then adding a firm “no” in case his eyes weren’t on you for once. 

All the same, you continued to stand there leaning alongside the counter watching him as he had now taken to stirring the boiling noodles with a fork. After a few minutes of this, he transferred the now ready noodles into one of your bowls. 

“Do you prefer your noodles with broth or drained?” He asked. 

“Drained,” you replied, 

“Me too. I find that too much liquid laps up the flavor,” he said, going to drain it now in your sink. He then added the flavor, stirring it. When it was at last ready, he set it on your kitchen island, beckoning you to come sit. 

Hunger winning out, you did as he had instructed, not even bothering to care that he sat in the seat next to you. 

The noodles were good and just warm enough for you to enjoy and satisfy your hunger. You eagerly stuffed your face forgetting for a moment the man at your side. 

It was only when you finished eating that he at last spoke up.

“I wanna talk to you about what happened between us,” he said. 

Of course you had expected this, but it didn’t make it anymore easy to breach this topic. 

“What is there to talk about?” you asked, deciding to play dumb. 

“The kiss we shared,” he said, turning his body towards you.

He knew damn well it had been more than a simple kiss. If you hadn’t put the brakes on when you had maybe the two of you would have gone all the way in the classroom! 

“I don’t see why we have to discuss it. We kissed, so what? We can move on from it,” you said. 

“But that’s the thing. I can’t move on. I think about it all the time,” he said. There was a unique yearning in his voice, a tone you had never heard from before. At last you turned to face him as well and though his eyes were still hidden there was an expression of sadness on his face. 

“Well I’m sure you kiss people all the time,” you said. In an effort to put some space between the two of you, you stood up and walked away from the kitchen back into the living room, hoping he’d follow so you could direct him to the door. 

“That’s it then? You think I just kiss anyone?” he asked, following you as you had anticipated. His long legs allowed him to catch up to you quickly and he caught your wrist, swiveling you around to face him. “Don’t ignore me. You feel something for me too, I know it.” 

His proximity to you had your breath hitching, it had been a while since you had been this close. 

“Gojo-“ you began to protest.

“Satoru,” he corrected, wanting things to be less formal. 

“Maybe you should get going,” you said but your voice wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped. 

“You’d really throw me out in the snow like that?” he teased. 

“You’d be fine,” you retorted. 

By now your resistance was waning, despite your better judgment, the scent of his cologne and the feel of his warm body was threatening your resolve. 

He seemed to know that all too well. 

“Let me kiss you again. I’ve missed your lips,” he whispered. 

Your knees buckled a little. 

He bent down, lips brushing against your jawline, the scent of him intoxicating.

It was futile, you wanted him desperately and he knew that. So when you didn’t push him away his lips lingered merely inches from yours, his minty breath in your face, leaving the option to you. 

Giving into your urges, you had only to bend forward, and once you did his lips were on yours. Like before, the passion between the two of you was intense, even more so given the built up frustration from how you had avoided him then. 

His tongue soon found yours and your legs hoisted yourself around his waist. 

“Satoru.. bedroom,” you whimpered. 

He understood, still holding you as you guided him to your bedroom. 

You didn’t have time to feel embarrassed about the plushies you had on your bed despite being a grown woman, as he plopped you down alongside them.

“Lay back,” he commanded. 

You did, but watched as he got on his knees in front of you. 

“Satoru, what are you doing?” you asked, still breathless from the kisses you had exchanged. 

He took his time answering you, a sly grin on his face as his hand caressed your pantyhose clothed thighs that were exposed as your skirt fell in ripples around your waist. 

“I’m gonna make you feel good. The way I wanted to before you left that day,” he said. His hands went up to the top of your waist band, pulling your pantyhose down effortlessly. He gasped at his newfound discovery. “No panties? You really are so shameless.” 

Your face was red.

“I- there was a line with my skirt and the tights are thick,” you stammered, feeling the need to defend your choice of wear. 

“I like it. How often do you go commando under these long skirts of yours?” he probed, fully removing your tights and leaving your legs and sex naked underneath the layers of your skirt. 

“Only when I wear the tights underneath,” you replied.

His hand cupped your heated sex, your arousal leaking into the palm of his hand.

“That’s right you did have some panties on in the classroom that day,” he said recalling. His fingers parted your wet folds. “You think one of these days you could just go completely commando for me? Nothing underneath? Not even your pretty little tights?” 

By this point you kept feeling pangs of pain and your clit throbbing, there was no denying the effect he had on you. 

“Somehow I don’t think that would be appropriate for the classroom,” you stated. 

This only seemed to encourage him more. 

“It’d be fun though. Just think about it,” his hand released your sex. He seemed to have something devious in mind. He came closer to you whispering in your ear. “You and me. The fun we could have. The quickies we could partake in between classes.” 

You’d be lying if you said his words weren’t appealing to you and vivid images of you hoisted against a desk and him shooting his load into you were intruding your mind.

“Satoru…” your voice had an edge to it. One that still remembered why you had put the brakes in between the two of you in the first place. 

He seemed to understand.

“Oh that’s right. You think I do this with just anyone. That I’m something of a player huh?” He asked, and you were surprised to hear offense in his voice. 

“I just don’t know you all that well yet,” you stammered apologetically. 

You felt that it was an almost stupid thing to say given the state the two of you were in. 

“Do you want to know me?” He asked. 

“Yes,” you replied. 

“Good, because I want to know you too,” he said. He sunk back down to his previous position between your legs. He pulled his blindfold down, letting it rest at his neck so his crystal-like eyes were visible. “And right now, I want to know what makes you tick.” 

When Principal Yaga had first told him there would be a new professor from overseas joining them, it hadn’t mattered to him greatly. 

Another teacher? Well that was good. A foreigner? Interesting. 

However, it hadn’t been something he had given much thought to.

So when he first met you at the faulty meeting he had hosted in his apartment, he had been surprised to find out how beautiful you were. You were also young, a little bit younger than him but still so young for someone so well accomplished (yes after your flirtatious encounter where you called his eyes beautiful he had looked you up). 

He must confess, he read your academic articles all thirty of them and he was always finding an excuse to speak to you in the lounge room. 

At last when he hadn’t been able to fight the longing for you anymore, he had waited until after hours, knowing you’d still be on campus. 

“Still here?” He had taunted. 

“I’m not in a big hurry to go home,” you said.

That was interesting to him. Surely a woman like you had someone waiting for her? It was something he had pathetically tried to find the answer to online but had fallen short given your profiles being professional in nature.

Desperate for the answer he continued to tease.

“Lonely at home?” 

God, he could shoot himself in the foot for that one! How incredibly cringe. He was used to getting away with it on account of his good looks, but you were different than most. You didn’t seem to fall easily to his charm. In a way it was humanizing, you didn’t let the veil of his looks and his power get in the way of seeing him for what he was. 

“No. I like being here. You may have been here for a while but I’m still trying to get established.” 

As suspected, you didn’t find his comment charming, answering rather defensively. 

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, tugging a strand of your hair and considering it a good sign when you didn’t shoo him away. 

“What are you still doing here anyways?” You asked him. 

His heart was racing from how your eyes looked up at him and he was (not for the first time) grateful that his blindfold kept him shielded for surely he looked like a lovesick schoolboy.

“Because I knew you’d be here,” he said.

“Me?” 

The way you asked so dumbfounded made his heart ache for you more. 

Yes you, he wanted to tell you, he wanted to tell you just how completely unaware you were of the effect you can have. 

Even more so when you allowed him to kiss you, he felt like he was on cloud nine. Your body had felt soft on him, it was everything he had dreamed about, everything he had allowed himself to feel despite his fragile heart being ever so cautious.

“Gojo stop,” you had said suddenly, and to his horror.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. 

You had only made excuses and ran off leaving his fragile heart to shatter into a million pieces. 

“Fuck, Satoru- you’re so good at this,” you moaned, your back arching as you fell back against the mattress. 

He tongued at your folds, lapping at your clit and your arousal as if he was dehydrated and needed it in order to live. 

His fingers spread you open for him, flashing him with your inner pink, the sight nearly sending him into a frenzy. 

Your hands went to his white hair, gripping the locks and using them as an anchor as his tongue continued to pleasure you. 

Your moans were just as pretty as he had imagined and between that and the taste of you, he was determined to make you orgasm hard. 

It didn’t take long for him to find your sweet spot. You were starting to realize that of his mouth had more uses than just teasing and your toes curled. 

“This is where you’re weak, huh?” he said, sensing it from how your grip on his fingers tightened. You felt him curl his fingers up inside of you, continuing to pleasure that new unlocked spot as he leaned forward tongue still sliding down your sensitive clit. 

“Mm- Satoru I’m close,” you warned.

“I know, I know,” he cooed against your skin. 

Continuing that pace and motions, you felt it arising now, the tell tell signs of orgasm and the adrenaline feeling as if you were falling off a cliff. “That’s it, baby, let it go.” 

And you did, coming down from your high as your fluid flooded his tongue. 

You panted and watched as he lapped you clean, relishing the taste. Then, like before, a devious look rose to his crystal eyes. He came up to you, hovering gently above you, hands on the bed to steady himself.

“You should really taste yourself,” he said. Before giving you time to register what he meant, he kissed you and you moaned against his lips. The taste on his lips was sweet yet metallic and it was yours. It was so lewd, the way you enjoyed it, but again the fire of desire was burning for him so you simply indulged in the passionate makeout.

“Want help with that?” you asked, eyes pointed at the bulge in his pants as the kiss broke apart, salvia still connecting the two of you faintly. 

You swore you saw him blush, but having a new found confidence, you didn’t wait for him to answer, fingers shakily undoing his pants. 

“So eager,” he teased, stepping back to fully shrug the pants and his boxers off. His shirt followed after.

His cock was big, bigger than any you had been with, and the head was just as pink as his lips. A forming bud of precum was visible at the tip.”Like what you see?” 

“Very much so,” you admitted. You were ready for him to sink into you, but an expression of concern overtook his face. 

“I don’t have a condom,” he explained, “I know you think I do this a lot but I don't, I don’t just have them on me.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek. You weren’t exactly on any birth control right now since it had been a while since you were sexually active yourself, but you didn’t want to turn him down. Plus you were aware of where you were in your cycle so the chances of pregnancy would be slim.

“It’s fine, but I’m gonna need a morning after pill just in case,” you stated. 

He seemed to perk up.

“Does that mean I can spend the night?” He asked. It never ceases to amaze you how someone of his stature could still have such a childlike demeanor. 

Oh what harm could it do? You had already made it this far with him.

“Yes,” you conceded. You tried not to think about the fact that he was still technically a coworker and you intrusively wondered how the students would react if they knew the two of you were engaging in such activities. 

“Hey, what’s going on in that pretty little head?” He asked. 

“Nothing I just, we’re still colleagues,” you said. 

He smiled and lined himself up with you, the tip of his cock fettering your entrance.

“And? Colleagues can’t blow a little steam off together every now and then?” 

You gasped feeling him against your slickness, not in yet but only just, still lingering at your entrance.

“That’s not really helping your case of not doing these things with just anyone,” you said. 

He laughed.

“I can assure you before you I had no need or desire to fuck a colleague,” he said. 

Then at last, he began to sink into you. At first only the delicate pink tip, then an inch, then two more, until the full length was bottomed out inside of you. 

“Oh, you feel so full,” you whispered more as an exclamation to yourself but he heard all the same. 

For him, it has always been a fantasy to fuck you in your work clothing, as he had told you before your long skirts offered the illusion of quick access whenever at his disposal. 

He began to thrust lightly, allowing himself to relish all your warm walls. 

“So sexy,” he praised as his pace began to quicken. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you could feel his pulse beating away inside of you. 

It felt natural being under him like this, almost right as if you were meant to be underneath him like this taking every inch of his impressive rod. 

Although you were no stranger to sex at your age, his thrusting made you feel something you never had before. 

“Fuck me back, you���re a big girl aren’t you?” he teased, his mind probably following your line of thinking.His words emboldened you, and your vaginal grip on his cock tightened, and you began to thrust your hips up to meet his pace. 

You craned your neck a little to watch as his cock went in and out.

He caught you looking. 

“So you like to watch, huh?” his voice was heated. God, he was finding out so much about you. You were just as dirty as him, even if you were usually so well composed. 

“Satoru!” you yelped as he easily lifted you up, bodies still connected and dragged you to the restroom. 

“Oh this is perfect,” he whispered. 

Your bathroom had a large full length mirror and another large mirror above the sinks. Here, no matter where you’d look, you’d be able to see him fucking you. 

“Satoru, can I take my clothes off?” you asked, horrified at the idea of your work clothes getting soiled. 

“I have no objection to that,” he said. He placed you against the countertop, and undid your blouse removing it and your bra. 

Then came your skirt. 

Regrettably, for this he had to slide out of you, but it only took a moment. 

“Face the mirror I want you to be able to watch,” he said.

You did, gripping the counter as he slid into you from the back.

This all felt so surreal. 

Had it only been just this morning that you had burnt yourself? You had still been avoiding him then, now he had you bent over in your own bathroom as he thrusted in and out of your vagina raw from behind. 

You supposed this was what fucking a colleague entailed, it was much more chaotic than in the movies. 

Your eyes caught sight of his face, red and sweaty, eyes closed and turning your head to your side, you saw his length going in and out of you from the reflection in the full length mirror. 

His fingers kneaded the flesh of your ass, and you threw your ass back against him, cheeks enveloping his cock.

“Fuck,” he cursed. 

Your shared moans echoed in the bathroom’s acoustics and it only set him off more. His pace quickened and his hands reached around to cup your breasts, squeezing the sensitive nipples. 

You turned your head and your lips found his, all the while his thrusting and you grinding your ass back against him were bringing you both closer to reaching your peak.

“Satoru-“ you warned, but he seemed to understand.

“I know, I know. I’m cumming too,” he panted. 

Breathing heavily, you felt him shoot his load into you as you came on him, fluids dripping to the floor. 

He gave a shaky laugh.

“Erm- I can clean this up. Don’t worry about it. You should go lay down,” he said after using your hand towel to clean in between your legs. 

Mumbling in agreement, you went back to your room. 

Heart beating fast you tried to reconcile with the fact that you just had sex with a colleague and moreover you had agreed for him to stay the night. It wasn’t that you regretted it, Gojo was many things but a bad lay wasn’t one of them. 

You opened your drawer and quickly changed into a matching lounge set. You heard Gojo humming and moving around in the bathroom as he cleaned up. When he came out, he held your clothes in his hands, still naked himself. He placed your clothes on your bed before going to pick his own up and putting them back on, laughing slightly.

“What’s funny?” you asked. 

“You,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His lower half was covered once again as his boxers and pants came back on. 

“What about me?” You pressed. 

“You’d think after what we just did you wouldn’t be so shy still. It’s cute,” he said, pulling his top on and adjusting it so his v-line was no longer visible. He left his shoes off and when you raised your brows he said “remember I’m staying the night?” 

Of course you remembered. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, shrugging. 

He let out a belly laugh. 

“Why do you keep laughing at me?” you asked, growing frustrated. 

His face softened as he smiled at you fondly. 

“It’s just I don’t think I’ve met someone who is worse at expressing their feelings than me, it’s comforting.” 

Well, he was right in that assessment so you couldn’t help as your lips twitched upwards in a smile of your own. 

If today was going to be his only chance to make a good impression of you, he was going to use it to his full advantage. 

“You know what I always loved to do during snow days? Build a fort and watch movies with hot chocolate.” 

Luckily, you had taken his suggestion well and so he had taken it upon himself to build said fort by maneuvering your furniture and bringing your blankets and pillows over to the living room in front of the tv. 

He was aware of your eyes watching him as he did so. 

“What?” he asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck self consciously. 

“You’re just different than I expected,” you said genuinely, your voice free of judgment. 

He nodded in understanding, he was used to people having the wrong impression about him. His looks, his talents, which were given to him at birth, all of these were things that shaped how people viewed him. He couldn’t fault you for having thought the same, but it did relieve him that you seemed to be gaining a more comprehensive perspective of him now. 

“I’m gonna make us hot chocolate, you’re still banned from using the kettle after this morning,” he said, making his way to the kitchen and looking through your cupboards. He found the hot chocolate packets and went through the motions of heating up the water again just as he had done for the ramen earlier. 

“Speaking of this morning, you should really apologize to the kids. You were kind of stern with them,” you said, appearing at his side and leaning  against the fridge. 

You looked so beautiful to him in the fluorescent lighting, your lips still puffy from the kisses you had exchanged and your hair tousled. He wanted to freeze this moment and live in it. He could see himself growing old with you and sharing domestic moments such as this. Satoru you poor romantic thing, he thought to himself. He had quite a habit of being a yearner, of letting his feelings consume him. 

It was his biggest flaw.

“Yes, maybe I should. Tomorrow I’ll make sure to do so,” he said. 

He finished preparing the hot chocolate and carrying both mugs he said: “now would you like to choose the first movie?” 

Watching movies with Gojo was peaceful. You each took turns choosing a movie. He preferred comedies and animated movies while you chose cult classics. 

Strangely enough, you felt comfortable with him. His commentary every now and then throughout the movies and the way he laid close to you in the fort, with only your knees brushing past each other occasionally, made you feel like he was trying to put you at ease.

Despite the two of you having sex earlier, he didn’t make any moves to touch you again, and you felt that it was intentional with him leaving the choice up to you. 

After the last movie finished, credits rolling, he turned down the volume before facing you.

“So what’s with you and Nanami?” he asked. 

You could tell from his expression he was trying to seem nonchalant, but his eyes that had remained unblindfolded betrayed him, there was worry in his pretty blues. 

“Nanami? Nothing. He’s just a colleague and I enjoy working with him. Why?” you asked. 

“I just wondered because you chose him to accompany you to see Shoko over me,” he said. There was a long pause before he added, “you know we’re colleagues too.” 

Your face flushed as you understood. 

“I don’t like Nanami like that,” you mumbled, no longer able to meet his eyes. Luckily, he didn’t press you more, your answer being sufficient enough for him. 

You felt him shift besides you until he was no longer on his back but facing towards you. Having had his blindfold still off you were able to notice more of his emotions he usually kept hidden. Now there was a hint of sadness in them, the same sadness you had seen on….

“Satoru, why does Shoko always look sad?” You asked. 

He gave you a wry smile. 

“It’s a long story and I’m sure only Shoko can speak for herself, but I can tell you about it as best as I can.” 

So he did.

He told you the story of three young gifted sorcerers and their ‘blue spring,’ as he had coined the last time the three ever felt a sense of normalcy. The story involved himself, Shoko, and someone named Geto, but mainly it orbited around him and Geto. Gojo told you of the mission they had failed at, to keep a young girl named Riko alive since she was the Star Plasma Vessel. You could tell by how he spoke of it that he felt largely responsible, especially since he hadn’t rested as much as he should have. 

“But that wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have possibly known about Toji and he was strategic so you’d never see him coming,” you said. 

“Maybe but it’s my fault for not noticing after how Geto changed. It affected him more than me in a way because of his ability to absorb curses. All that negative energy and the way it made him feel especially after he was jaded by the fact that non sorcerers couldn’t care less about sorcerers who protect them.”

Feeling that this was the first time he had opened up about this, you turned your body to face him as well and took his hand in your own squeezing it for support. 

“Maybe you didn’t notice it because he kept it to himself? You can’t fault yourself for that,” you said.

“Or maybe he didn’t tell me because of who I am, who I was born into being and my abilities. You know I’ve never known what it’s like to feel weak to feel truly powerless? Sometimes I don’t even feel human.” 

You felt a twinge of guilt for having thought he was some sort of womanizer, after what he had told you, that seemed so far out from the truth. It was clear he wore his heart on his sleeve and that it was his nature but he was guarded, even felt isolated because of the magnitude of his strength.

“I don’t think that’s fully true. Maybe in terms of power and your cursed energy but what you described: regret, guilt, and loneliness. All those things are very human,” you said. He smiled at you, and it reached his eyes so you figured your words had been of some comfort to him. 

“In a way Shoko probably feels more regret than I do, though I can’t be certain,” he explained to address your original question. 

“How so?” you asked. 

“Shoko’s ability is to heal. Curses destroy, people get hurt, and she heals. It is the same over and over and after a while you can start to wonder if there’s a point, if there is an end to the cycle.”

“Just like Geto did,” you finished for him, making the connection. 

He nodded. 

You laid there in silence for a while, listening to the gentle sound of his breathing. 

“Why me?” you asked, finally asking the question that has been the source of your previous resistance to him. 

“You’re beautiful, I thought so the moment I saw you. In truth it was after reading your published articles that I wanted to know you more. I felt like you’d understand me. You know your article analyzing Shakespeare's King Henry?” 

You nodded. How could you forget? It had been a pain to publish through all the hurdles of academia. 

“There was one line from the play you wrote about and it really stuck with me,” he said. He waited as if he wanted you to guess which line it was, and instinctively you knew.

“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”

You don’t remember falling asleep or making it to your bed but when you wake up with the warmth of the sunlight kissing your face you immediately sit up as you remember the previous day's events. Your blankets having been used for the fort were draped back around you. 

A glance at your bedside tells you that Gojo had been to the store already, the morning after pill box sitting there waiting for you to take with a glass of water next to it. You go through the motions of taking it and then follow the scent of bacon and eggs to your kitchen. 

Gojo is there, cooking breakfast and his blindfold is back on. 

“Good morning,” he says, seeing you linger at the entrance. 

“Satoru, what time is it? It’s so bright out,” you asked, going to sit at the kitchen island. 

“A little past noon. Shhh don’t worry. Classes are canceled for today again so I turned your alarm off,” he said, setting a plate of food in front of you alongside a cup of orange juice.

“I don’t remember falling asleep,” you said, biting into the fat of the bacon. 

He laughed.

“Yeah you went out like a light. I think it’s my fault we spent the whole day watching movies and I trauma dumped on you,” he said. 

He sat down next to you with his own plate of food and orange juice. 

At his words, you briefly remember strong arms carrying you to bed, lingering lips on your forehead and a gentle kiss on your skin. 

“Did you sleep here last night?” you asked him remembering how he had wanted to spend the night with you.

“I did. I slept on the couch. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he explained. You nodded, yet a part of you was worried. Would you two go back to formalities? After everything the two of you had done and shared yesterday you couldn’t phantom that possibility. Fortunately he felt the same way. 

“Listen, the kids told me they are gonna have another snowball fight today before all the snow melts up. They asked me if I wanna join and I want you to come with me,” he said. 

You finished eating and looked at him. 

“I’d like that,” you replied. 

His hand reached for yours and he interlocked the fingers with you. 

“I want to be your man, if you’ll have me. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I can see myself spending forever with you,” he said, his cheeks were rosy.

“I want to be with you too. Forever is a long time,” you said. 

“I know so let’s start with now and we’ll lead our way into forever,” he said. 

When he leaned forward to kiss you, you didn’t deny him, savoring the taste of him and bacon grease. 

[hxshpuppies]

I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask you, neither should you | Luke Castellan x reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: felt like writing a meet cute. title lowkey doesn’t make sense but i love hozier so….Athena!coded reader. one-shot (probably). no use of (y/n) or (name) because I prefer not to do that. :)

warnings: not edited, not proofread, written in one sitting / not from chicago 😓 / i haven't written in AGES so...

The first time you met Luke, you had barely stepped foot into camp.

You were someone whose arrival had no pomp and circumstance, and--much to your protector's relief--whose journey had been relatively smooth-sailing save for one case of a missing train ticket, which had been a minor setback more than anything. Now here you were, protector-less (they had left to meet some council?), alone--despite the multitudes of campers that flocked to and fro around you--and tired.

Chiron had dropped you off in front of the Hermes cabin, and you passed by countless inquisitive eyes as you entered the building. The humidity of the summer gave your face a sheer glow as you, out of your element and more than a little nervous, padded towards the door with your bag in tow.

The moment you reached for the door it flew open (you yelped), expelling a handful of giggling children who were whispering conspiratorially amongst themselves. Upon seeing you, they quieted down, but then like a pot boiling over they resumed their antics and walked away, an sparing an occassional glance at you over their shoulders.

"Sorry about them," A voice cut through the retreating din of the group. You jumped again, whipping around to see a tall boy about your age standing in the doorway. The wind sent the leaves around the cabin rustling as he brushed his hand through his hair, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

You bowed your head, avoiding his gaze, and walked into the cabin, the smell of musk and earth--and plenty of other strange things--wafting through the area as you took in the beds and children running around.

"So, you're the new camper, huh?" You turned back to the boy, who walked past and led you to a vacant bed near a window. You followed, placing your duffel bag down.

"I'm Luke. Luke Castellan." The boy extended his hand to you with a practiced camp counselor smile, curly brown hair highlighted by the sun streaming in through the windows. You introduced yourself to him, soft-spoken yet firm. "I'm the counselor for Cabin 11. You can come to me if you have any problems adjusting to life here. Or if one of these goofballs steals something of yours."

It was his job to make sure his campers were taken care of, that they were comfortable. It was his job to help them settle in.

"It's lovely to meet you, Luke." Your voice was level as you shot him a polite smile, recovered from the whirwind of arriving at the cabin itself. "Thank you for your help."

A silence settled into the gaps of the conversation as you unzipped your tattered duffel bag, reaching inside for the few belongings you'd brought with you. You felt Luke staring at your back and an awkward cough followed. He'd sensed your anxiety.

"So, where are you from?" You gazed back at him timidly, still unsure of anything and anyone around you. He faltered, hoping he hadn't asked a painful question. To his relief, you smiled wistfully.

"I'm from Chicago--Lincoln Park." A picture frame, a little worn, holding a picture of you and your father at a baseball game. The sunlight lit up the photograph as you placed it on the windowsill.

"I've never been." He was straddling the back of a chair now, leaning his chin on his arms, facing you. He continued, voice soft and inviting. "I'd like to one day. What do you like about it?"

You paused packing, settling yourself on the bed as you thought about your hometown.

"The beach--well, the lake--and the White Sox games, obviously. " You hummed, deep in thought and nostalgia, playing with your hands. "My dad and I also used to go to this place, they had the best sundaes, and we'd go every year on my birthday. And then we'd take the train home."

Your smile quickly twisted, going sour as a tear threatened to trail down your cheek, and you quickly caught yourself before it could.

"That sounds fun." He rocked back in the chair, and nodded to the picture you'd put on the window. "Baseball fan huh?"

"Hardly," You chuckled. "I mainly went becuase my dad loved them so much....I'm more of a museum enjoyer."

"Art?"

"I mean yes, but I like science and history ones too. Bones and all." Your lips turned upward slightly at the sight of Luke jumping out of his chair.

"Well you're in the perfect place, given we," he gestured to the cabin around him, leaning on a bedpost. "are partly known for stealing things."

You laughed, a genuine laugh, your sleeve wiping off the the remnants of the tears you'd almost shed. Luke grinned, face beaming. (he'd cheered you up, at least a little).

He straightened up, resuming his camp counselor aura. "Well, I do ha--"

"What about you, Luke Castellan?" You said his name, softly, like you were testing out how it sounded in your mouth. You looked up, hoping he hadn't heard you sniffle, hadn't seen the glistening in your eyes from before.

Maybe it was because you were slightly embarassed that you'd almost cried in front of a guy who you were now beginning to notice was, in fact, very pretty.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm holding you up." Embarrasment, flushing down your body and running through your veins.

"No!" His eyes widened, and he shifted back to face you. "No it's okay, what was your question?"

"Where're you from?" The words tumbled out of your mouth, before you could say what you should've said--a polite 'nothing, thank you'.

He faltered. You'd caught him off guard. Usually newbies didn't ask him about himself--they were too busy asking more questions about the camp itself. You waited, brow raised and eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

"I'm from Connecticut," He watched your eyes light up, familiarity flooding your face. "You been?"

"No but....you ever watch Gilmore Girls?" A soft grin painted your face and you caught your bottom lip between your teeth in excitement. He'd been asked this a few times, but this time he couldn't help but not respond with his usual exasperation, faced with your barely-contained excitement.

"I have." He listened as you spoke, opening up slowly like a flower in bloom. After all, it was his job to make sure his campers were taken care of, that they were comfortable. It was his job to help them settle in.

But maybe he stayed longer than he usually did, maybe he answered your questions about himself because he had a fleeting thought that you were pretty or he liked the way you laughed at his jokes and it was influencing his judgement. Maybe it was how easy it was, the way he fell into conversation easily with you.

Tyche had set your fates spinning.

[usereddie]

hi, y'all. for those of you who don't know, rio grande do sul, one of the southern states in brazil, is facing the worst tragedy in the state's history. heavy rains have caused flooding, bridges are collapsing, the people are without power, without internet, without access to safe housing, food, or water.

over three hundred cities have been affected. there are countless still to be rescued who have no way of searching for shelter because the roads are ruined and they have no way to get in or out of the floods.

i wanted to do something to help. this is my country, these are my people.

i'm going to do donation based fic commissions, inspired by gotcha for gaza @911actions which you should also support. i'll be signing up for that as a fic writer as well.

this is my ao3 in case you want to take a look.

the dollar is worth 5x the brazilian real at the moment. if you donate just $5 that's already 25BR. a $10 donation is 50BR. and it's going to a group of people who really need it.

after you donate, send proof of the donation and a oneshot prompt. for the most part, i'm okay with writing any trope, but i'll add a list under the cut.

brazilfoundation is currently accepting donations for the fundo luz alliance. all of the donations will be going towards helping rio grande do sul and the people there.

i can't promise i'll get to everything very quickly, but i will do my best to. either way, this money is going towards helping people.

thank you.

i write primarily for buddie and like writing them best romantically, but i will accept other ships if i have written for them before (and madney, because i've written for them and just never posted lol). gen relationships are good too. i'll write any of the firefam as friends, diaz siblings, buck and chris, etc.

tropes:

fluff. i love fluff i'll write it no problem. i can't think of a fluff trope i'm against.

doesn't have to be set in canon, either. i love an au.

should go without saying but no racism towards any of the poc characters.

no misogyny, either. i will not vilify any of buddie's girlfriends.

angst is good for the most part but i don't do main character death. in light of 7x07, infidelity — especially emotional infidelity — is something i really enjoy.

for smut, i don't like writing really intense scenes. d/s is great, feminization is great, crying, cock warming, breeding, overstim, edging, things like that i'm game.

i will not do graphic violence. so no physical abuse and no rape. it's very difficult to write for me.

if a prompt has something i don't know how to write/don't feel comfortable writing, i'll reach out and see if there's a different prompt or a different way to go about it.

my asks and dms are open :)

thanks so much.

[jeongheart]

super shy

summary: he's been receiving these letters for the past year but, he doesn't know your name, does he?

w.c: 7.1k.

tags: friends to lovers, fluff, slice of life.

a.n: this is the longest fic i ever written omg, i've been playing new jeans latest comeback for a few days and this is the result lol. as always, english is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. leave your thoughts if you liked it, means a lot!

It was there again.

Sitting immaculately on top of his messy folders, the envelope was white without any type of decoration, the owner of the cursive handwriting wouldn't even risk placing a sticker since it could give a clue, even minimal, about who was behind it.

The classroom was almost empty, since recess ended a few minutes ago and the students were still lazily getting up from the grass where they were lying, not wanting to lock themselves in a room again for hours while the day was shining beautifully outside the building.

However, Chan looked around him, narrowing his eyes as he scanned his classmates for the smallest trace of uneasiness as he took the envelope in his hands. But he didn't find any, unless the author had a master's degree in poker face no one around him seemed interested in what he was doing.

After the failed scrutiny, he sat down again with no care on the wooden bench, eager to read what that person had to say today. This excited feeling was new for him, the letters had been arriving about a year ago, right at the beginning of the new semester and at first, Chan found it funny. Surely one of his friends (he bet his life on either Seungmin or Minho, those two were always up to something no matter how much they said they weren't) found it fun to piss him off this year, after all, it has been a long time since his last relationship and sometimes he felt the need of affection, so the "joke" made perfect sense in his head.

He didn't read them the first few months, he just crumpled them up and kept them in a hidden place in his backpack, to let whoever was behind them know that he wasn't interested. But they kept coming even after that vile act against someone's real feelings; and that was when Chan began to question if there really was a person genuinely interested in him, interested enough to send him handwritten letters as if they were living in a classic romance novel. The person had a beautiful vocabulary, and it was clear that they paid attention to details that he didn't even noticed about himself.

The notes weren't very long since they didn't exceed ten lines, but each word was full of admiration and affection. They always reminded him to eat and take care of his health, in addition to telling him day by day one of the qualities why his mysterious person had fallen in love with him. Chan blushed every time he read those reasons, it was no secret (to himself, since he didn't like others to know) that he didn't think very highly of himself; from his point of view there was nothing nice or admirable about his existence. But this person believed just the opposite, and they had made their life's mission to let him know that every day.

Today was no exception, the lined sheets were a pastel color (pink? orange?) and had small animal decorations at the bottom and top (he noticed that these came in "groups", the representative animal of these last ten notes was a smiling giraffe). It was incredibly adorable, and Chan found himself laughing softly every time he took out the contents of the envelope.

'Mondays are always hard! Especially this time of year (can't the professors trust in me and my knowledge of things? I don't see the need for them to take a test).

Anyway, Channie, this weekend I found myself thinking a lot about you, every time I start writing my reasons I feel like I'm going to be left speechless but then I remember that it's not difficult at all to love you. So here is another one:

Your resilience, I greatly admire your ability to always get up no matter how many blows life throws at you. The vast majority of us feel discouraged by the slightest inconvenience, but not you. And that is something incredible.

I hope you have a beautiful start to the week, remember to eat your meals and feel the sun.

Fondly,'

And that's how all the letters ended, the author seemed to hesitate every time they traced the last line, he could feel the uncertainty even on the paper. Chan knew that they were shy and always wondered when they were going to stop being to finally sign with their name and be able to meet that person who stole his heart with every word.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

He was reading the note, hunched over his things, almost shielding the contents of the paper from the prying eyes of anyone who passed by him. You knew he was going to do it (he always did) but you couldn't stop your heart from racing like it was the first time it happened. You watched him from the hallway, hiding behind one of your textbooks while a silly smile appeared on your face, nothing made you happier than making him happy with your words, it's true what people say about "butterflies in the stomach" because that was what you were feeling right now.

His eyes crinkled in the most adorable way possible every time he smiled and from your spot in the hallway you could almost hear the sigh he let out after finishing reading the letter. After scanning his surroundings one last time, Chan placed the paper back into the envelope, and carefully placed it inside his notebook.

"You and your Shakespeare complex again" The sudden voice of your best friend so close made you jump in your place and drop the book you had in your hands. It hit the ground with a dull sound due to the thickness of its contents, and when you picked up the book again you turned around to face the figure of the perpetrator. He just laughed at you and your reaction, which earned him a closed-fist blow directly to his shoulder.

"You deserve it" You didn't even bother to return his reproachful gaze since he clearly felt like fighting, and instead, you returned your focus to Chan's classroom and his figure. He was no longer in his seat and you didn't want to look weird by leaning out the window door to look for him. So you sighed heavily and leaned your body against the wall while closing your eyes.

Until you felt Jeongin's presence come to your side "Are you going to tell him sometime?"

You didn't answer him.

Well, actually you did, with a growl that could mean either 'I'll do it today, stop bothering' or 'not even dead'. However, the blonde wasn't satisfied with your interpretation of an animal as a response and he began poking your ribs with his long fingers, drawing high-pitched sounds of protest from your lips.

"Stop it, Innie" You moved his hands away from your figure and stood firmly looking him in the eyes like a mother who is trying to discipline her misbehaving son. He crossed his arms with a satisfied smile crossing his face with foxlike features and, with a movement of his head, he invited you to speak.

"What do you want me to say? 'Hello Chan! It's me, the person who has been sending you letters like a fifteen-year-old for a year now. I've been in love with you since the moment I saw you at my best friend's house. Do you want to be my boyfriend?" You rolled your eyes tiredly and didn't wait for Jeongin to tell you what he thought, and so you started walking towards your classroom, with an exasperated five foot seven boy following closely behind you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

You still remembered the first time you'd seen him, and how couldn't you. His presence could illuminate even the darkest corner, and his personality attracted anyone around him.

It was the summer, and you'd gone to Jeongin's house to spend an afternoon together. The air conditioning in your apartment had broken two days ago, and you couldn't stand being in your room for another second, which was already beginning to feel like an industrial oven. When you arrived at your best friend's residence, you weren't surprised by the fact that there were more people than just the two of you. Jeongin was taking singing lessons at a nearby academy and had hit it off with some of his classmates; so while you didn't know them as well as he did, you had the chance to hang out with some of them a couple of times and you could say that they were the funniest guys you'd ever come across. Especially Hyunjin, who seemed to be like a glove with your best friend.

Jeongin's house felt cold, as if winter had come only for the Yang family and, although you shivered with every step you took towards the kitchen where voices could be heard, this felt like paradise compared to the hell you lived in your house (and you even thought it was cooler in hell).

Reaching the kitchen, you heard Hyunjin's melodious voice followed by his nasal, boisterous laughter at a comment Jeongin made. You shook your head laughing inwardly as you pushed the wooden door open to enter the space, the boys turning their heads in your direction as they heard the hinges snapping back into place.

Your best friend gave you his characteristic smile as he got up from his seat on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island to give you a small hug "I thought you weren't coming anymore!"

From Jeongin's shoulder you saw how Hyunjin gave you a smile and a wave, you tried to return the gesture as best you could considering that you were trapped in the arms of a boy who flatly stated that he didn't like hugs. It was getting long in your opinion, so you patted Jeongin on the back, letting him know that yes, you loved him very much, but you were still sticky with sweat from the walk in the sun and you didn't want to make him uncomfortable when he was so cool. When Jeongin let go of you, he opened his palm to introduce you to a person you hadn't seen before, "I hope you don't mind, that's Chan over there. He also goes to our academy, and he goes to university with us! Although he is a year ahead"

You smiled at Jeongin as you walked further into the kitchen to greet the new guest and in front of you stood one of the most attractive men you'd ever seen in your entire life. He wasn't very tall (you could tell even if he was sitting) but his broad shoulders gave him an intimidating presence, his hair looked messy in a swirl of brown curls, and although he was dressed from head to toe in black (you were sure his nails were painted that color too) on his face was a dimpled smile that took your breath away.

From one moment to the next you forgot how to articulate words and you felt like a fish opening and closing its mouth trying to find something to say, but your brain didn't seem to want to work.

You felt a small push on your right shoulder that took your body forward, towards the table, and towards Chan.

"How rude you are" Jeongin rolled his eyes, and although deep down you knew he was doing it to tease you, your cheeks turned red. You felt your tongue heavy in your mouth as the seconds passed and you were unable to utter a single word.

"Leave her alone, Innie. It's pretty hot outside, isn't it?" Chan's deep voice brought you out of your trance and forced you to look him in the eyes. He had a sincere smile on his face and was watching you with raised eyebrows, letting you know that he was going to listen to you when you wanted to respond.

Your heart did a complete turn in your chest, you were surprised in the best of ways at how friendly he was, the vast majority of boys with his attractiveness made that their only personality trait but he was attentive and considerate of all the people around him, even with complete strangers who hadn't stopped looking or saying anything to him in three minutes.

"Yes...yes, it's horrible! And the air conditioning in my house is broken and you can't imagine how hot it is! I feel like I'm going to die one of these days" The words came tumbling out of your mouth, since you hadn't had the time to stop and think about what exactly you wanted to say, and your nerves were playing the worst trick of your entire life.

Chan laughed again (even his laugh was pretty) and he nodded his head, not at all scared or surprised with the lexical vomit you just made.

"It must be like torture, really. You must be tired from the walk under the sun, why don't you sit down for a bit? The boys and I were planning to watch a movie" The brunette softly kicked one of the stools that were stored under the table in your direction.

You nodded shyly and took the seat he offered you, right in front of him. You left your phone on the cold marble of the table and looked around the kitchen for your best friend, you'd been surprised by the fact that he hadn't gotten into the conversation for five minutes and to be honest you desperately needed to focus on something other than Chan's penetrating gaze you felt on your face.

"Innie?" You called out to him with a small shout, loud enough for him to hear you even if he'd gone into the garden.

After a few seconds, your friend's blonde head peeked out of the left door that led to the living room, and a mischievous smile appeared on his face. "I'm sorry! Since you two were talking, we decided to go prepare things for the movie."

Jeongin paused and looked at you evilly, a look that you knew very well and that didn't give you a good feeling at all "Chan, why don't you prepare something to eat? I bought some snacks today, come when you have everything ready~" And before you could protest, he disappeared from your sight again while laughing and yelling something at Hyunjin.

You immediately tensed up and cursed Jeongin in your mind, how dare he leave you alone with your newfound crush. If he was getting revenge for the time you tried to play matchmaker and failed then he was being very childish, that'd been years ago!

While the insulting thoughts against your best friend and all his ancestors accumulated in your brain, from the corner of your eye you watched as Chan got up from his seat and went to the counter where the mentioned snacks and bowls of colors were located, apparently the prankster you called your best friend had already prepared the trap before you even arrived.

You didn't want to look weirder than you already felt so with your limbs shaking and making even the slightest of movements difficult; you also got up from your seat and slowly approached where Chan was, you stood next to him (close enough for him to know that you were willing to help but far enough not to invade his personal space).

He looked at you briefly and smiled sideways, and didn't say anything as he gently pushed a bowl towards you. The task wasn't very complicated per se, but it did become extremely difficult when the only thing you could focus on were the large, veiny hands of the boy next to you, you hadn't realized how attractive it was to see a man opening packets of potato chips and arranging them in a small container until now.

"Jeongin said we go to the same university, do you study the same as him?" You were startled by the sudden interruption of silence, you turned to look at Chan after finishing preparing the bowl with the nachos.

"Yes, I mean, no. We share some classes because some subjects are correlative in each one's career but I could never do the same as Innie" You smiled shyly and shook your head.

"I study psychology," You finally said and looked at your companion, who had his eyes open and bright like a puppy's (how could it be possible for a person to be incredibly attractive and adorable at the same time? It would have to be illegal), and you wondered what it was that'd amazed him so much, there were millions of other people studying the same thing as you.

Without meaning to, you raised an eyebrow; studying his reaction. He laughed again (it was something he loved to do, apparently) and turned his entire body towards you, resting his left hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's incredible, the human mind is fascinating. I understand why you study that, for my part, I wouldn't read everything you have to read even if someone paid me."

You laughed loudly, infecting Chan as well. He was doing so with his whole body, his shoulders were shaking to the rhythm of his giggles and you could notice that, from time to time, a small squeak would appear in the sound of his laughter.

When the laughter died down, you looked at him again as you put the last bag of snacks in the cupboard in front of you.

"Yes, I mean, it's a lot to read but it's like you say. I'm interested in knowing the reason for behavior, and I would like to help people in the future. Mental health is something important" This last part came out in a whisper, you weren't used to revealing the reason for your career choice, most people told you that you should have chosen something that would make you rich in twenty years.

"That's incredible, I admire you a lot" Chan said in a soft voice, and you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten until you noticed the small touch of his fingers on your arm, the color quickly rose to your cheeks again and panic took over you, making you choke up when you spoke.

"Y-yes, thank you... not many think that way" And you moved your body away from his space; maybe a little abruptly but you were sure that if you continued in that position you were going to do or say something ridiculous, you couldn't trust your ability to reason at the moment.

Chan cleared his throat at your reaction and took two bowls in his hands, starting to walk towards the living room. You hadn't realized how loudly the other two boys were talking, were you so immersed in the situation to forget the outside world? Apparently yes.

"Are you done yet? The boys must be waiting" He stopped right in front of the door, waiting for you to take what you'd prepared.

You nodded softly, and after grabbing your preparations, you followed him into the living room.

You don't really remember what happened after that, you assume you watched the movies that the boys had already chosen before you arrived. You also don't remember if you had even paid attention, probably not, because you were very focused on keeping your breathing as normal as you could since unfortunately Hyunjin and Jeongin decided to each sit in an individual chair and by coincidence the only place left to sit was in the two-seat chair that your best friend's grandmother had given to his mother at her wedding, and conveniently Chan sat there too. So as the movie played on the screen, your heart raced with every accidental brush of your arms or legs against Chan's.

The only thing you remember clearly from that moment is that you couldn't help but look at his profile, trying to memorize every detail and every peculiarity of his expressions.

The rest of the summer felt like a haze, every time you made plans with Jeongin you knew Chan was going to be there. And that did nothing to dispel the feelings that were beginning to become more present with every minute you spent in his presence.

You liked him a little too much.

His kind nature and the way he treated everyone made you dizzy every time, but you were too shy to act on your feelings and unfortunately you weren't the only one who thought Chan was a good catch. Every now and then different girls approached him to ask him out, and although he always rejected them; you couldn't help but feel a little insecure about the situation. And there was also the small problem that he confessed to you one night in Hyunjin's garden: his last relationship had been somewhat toxic, and although it ended years ago, he was deeply hurt and didn't feel ready yet to fall for someone again.

That confession left a sour taste in your mouth, so you decided not to actively act on your feelings, you really didn't want to make Chan uncomfortable or force him into something he didn't want to do, let alone ruin the friendship you were building. But something as strong as love cannot be contained, and one sleepless night you found yourself scribbling in your notebook the things you wanted to say to him, the things you liked about him, and how he made you feel when you looked at him.

You weren't thinking when you left the first envelope on his desk, it was a completely impulsive decision that you regretted the moment you left his classroom. But when you turned around to go back and throw the letter into the trash, he already found it.

At first he didn't read them, you knew because you'd overheard when he mentioned it to Hyunjin during an outing the three of you made, Chan believed that one of his friends was playing a prank on him.

And that was the last straw that broke the camel's back, although you told yourself that you weren't going to write anymore letters for the sake of your friendship and your own feelings you had to let him know (even if anonymously) that he was someone worthy of love and that he wasn't what the people in his past made him believe he was.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

Once you arrived at the classroom (miraculously before the professor, you didn't think you could endure another lecture and there were still three more hours before leaving the university) you sat down in your respective seat by the window. The day was really beautiful, and from your place you could see the large patio where the entire student body went to relax between classes, it was your favorite place in the entire building and at this moment you wanted nothing more than to be leaning against a tree feeling the warm sunlight on your face.

"I'm not saying you have to tell him that but don't you think it's been too long already?" Jeongin didn't seem to want to drop the topic for today, he'd gotten up from his seat taking advantage of the fact that there was still no sign of the teacher and sat at your table, almost knocking all the things that were on top of it to the floor. You rested your head on the bench and waved a hand in the air, brushing it off in an attempt to say 'leave me alone already'.

Your best friend snorted exasperatedly, "You really are a special case, you've been in love with him for a year, for God's sake."

At the boy's aggressive tone of voice, you took your head off the table and looked at him with a frown. He looked back at you like he always did: challenging and forcing you to speak for yourself.

"It's not as easy as you say, Jeongin" You spat angrily.

"For all I know, if he finds out, he could throw my stupid letters in the trash and confessing would not only make me look weird but it would also ruin the friendship we have" You lowered your face, feeling a little sad "And the last thing I would like to do is lose him"

Jeongin’s expression softened as he realized the depth of your anxiety, and he reached out to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I get it, I really do. You don't want to jeopardize what you have but you deserve happiness too, you know? Maybe it's time to take a risk."

“I don’t even think I have a chance” You sighed, feeling defeated.

Jeongin moved closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially, "You may have more possibilities than you think, but sometimes you have to give destiny a little push."

You raised an eyebrow at his choice of words and just as you were about to question him further, the professor made an appearance in the classroom ordering everyone to take their respective seats and apologizing for the delay. Your best friend flashed you a bright smile with his trademark dimples and snuck over to his table, effectively ending the conversation and leaving you wondering what he meant for the rest of the day.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

If Jeongin's plan was for you to not sleep for a week, then he'd achieved it. His words had been spinning through your head like a whirlpool that seemed to have no end. You knew that he'd been friends with the brunette for a longer time than you, but were they close enough that the youngest knew the secrets inside Chan's heart?

Or was he giving you the advice that all friends gave to their other friends desperate to believe in the illusion that the person they like reciprocates their feelings? No, Jeongin wouldn't do that, he was too honest for his own good and besides you'd known each other longer (your mothers said you were born to be friends). So did that mean there really was a chance?

No, of course not, that was ridiculous.

You shook your head in an attempt to get rid of those thoughts as you rang the doorbell at Hyunjin's house. Your group had agreed to meet to study and you needed to have a clear mind, the exams were around the corner and you couldn't afford to keep your brain preoccupied thinking about something that would never happen.

The minutes passed slowly as you waited for the homeowner, and while you were thinking about ringing the doorbell again fearing that the boys inside hadn't heard you, the door suddenly opened, and nothing could have prepared you to see the person who has been living rent free in your mind, you knew he would be there, but you didn't expect to face him so quickly.

"Hey, you arrived just in time, Hyunjin's mom just brought us some drinks" Chan was his usual self, with his beautiful smile plastered on his face and his relaxed attitude.

You blinked once, twice, three times before you managed a small forced smile and responded, "Oh, great, thanks," and you stood there in silence, unable to look him in the eyes.

Chan tilted his head in silent question at your attitude, "Is everything okay?"

His concern for your well-being was evident in his voice and he struck a chord in your heart. You looked at him briefly, meeting his gaze for a fleeting moment and nodded, still struggling to find your voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” You finally responded, trying to sound casual despite the jumble of emotions inside you.

Chan's friendly demeanor never wavered as he led you into the house, you followed him with a notable distance between your bodies and so when you arrived at the living room where the boys were already seated with open textbooks and a monstrous amount of things to eat you almost ran to sit next to Jeongin, an attitude that didn't go unnoticed by the blonde, who looked at you with his eyebrows raised in a telepathic question.

Meanwhile, Chan didn't take his eyes off you as he sat next to Hyunjin on the couch in front of where you and your best friend were.

The afternoon went by slowly, too slowly for your liking, you'd gone with all the desire to study and get your mind out of the anxiety that was consuming you, but that attempt had been futile.

Although your gaze remained glued to your notes and your blue highlighter (which hadn't highlighted anything in the last hour, you'd read the same paragraph five times without getting a clue of what it was trying to say) you felt how two eyes were burning holes in your figure. The room was suffocatingly silent, and you were sure that your irregular breathing was evident to the entire group; your nerves were so on edge that when your best friend's voice filled the void you almost jumped in your place.

"I'm tired, how about we take a break?"Jeongin raised his arms towards the ceiling, stretching his back and then collapsing gracelessly against the soft cushions of the sofa.

Hyunjin nodded while massaging his neck, stiff after so many hours of looking down at his notes and reading "I thought no one was going to say it, I was going crazy."

Chan didn't say anything, he just closed his notebooks and imitated Jeongin in his relaxed pose against the couch. You felt out of place when the boys started chatting about meaningless things to lighten the atmosphere.

You only nodded when you felt your input was necessary, or laughed when you thought that was the reaction you should have but you didn't speak, because in fact, you weren't sure you were going to say anything coherent or at least make your voice louder than a whisper, so you decided that the best course of action was to stay quiet.

If the boys noticed it, they didn't say anything, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.

"You know" Chan interrupted the laughter of the other two boys after a not-so-funny story told by Hyunjin.

Everyone focused their attention on him, the tone of voice he'd used was more serious than his usual; so serious that it forced you to look up for the first time since the recess began and you found Chan's brown eyes looking directly at you, doing it so intensely that you thought he was staring right into your soul.

You held your breath, but you weren't prepared for what he said next.

"My secret admirer hasn't written to me in a few days" He was still looking at you, but there was something strange hidden in his irises, something you couldn't decipher.

Silence once again took over Hyunjin's living room, and the tension could be cut with a knife, it almost seemed like time had stopped when the brunette pronounced the last syllable. Your mouth felt dry, and your palms began to sweat. The weight of his words floated in the air and a thousand thoughts passed through your mind, each one more disconcerting than the last.

Hyunjin snorted, and looked maliciously at Chan "Maybe they are tired of you."

His mocking comment broke the heavy silence like thunder. Jeongin joined in with a playful smile, taking the opportunity to tease Chan mercilessly. “Maybe your secret admirer found someone else,” he joked, his tone light and teasing, “Or maybe they are just playing hard to get.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, wanting to burst while the boys laughed at Chan's expense while he, in response, rolled his eyes and smiled sarcastically at the jokes that his friends kept saying, he also looked at you from time to time making your discomfort even more evident.

You desperately searched for words to contribute to the conversation, your voice choked by the rising anxiety. But as Jeongin and Hyunjin's playful teasing continued, you remained silent, feeling like a bystander in a conversation that was becoming more cryptic by the second. Chan's gaze never left you, and despite the teasing, there was something in his eyes that betrayed a deeper understanding. His comment felt like a puzzle piece falling into place, yet you couldn't put your finger on what he truly knew.

As the laughter subsided, the room descended into an awkward silence once more, and then Chan finally spoke up, his tone more subdued than before. "Well, whoever it is," he began, his eyes still locked on yours, "I hope they know they've brightened my days with their letters."

The comment hung in the air, carrying a weight that seemed to pull everyone into its gravity. Jeongin and Hyunjin exchanged glances, their playful demeanor suddenly giving way to something more conspiracy.

You, on the other hand, felt an overwhelming mix of emotions. The anxiety that'd been building throughout the day reached a crescendo. You wanted to say something, to respond in some way, but the words caught in your throat.

Hyunjin broke the silence once more, this time with a touch of sincerity in his voice. "Whoever they are," he said, "they must really care about you, man." Jeongin nodded in agreement, and the room seemed to shift, it was a subtle transformation, but one that you couldn't help but notice.

Chan smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. "Yeah," he admitted, "They do mean a lot to me."

You desperately needed a moment to collect your thoughts and emotions after that serious conversation, so you mumbled something about getting a drink from the kitchen, excusing yourself with a weak smile and slowly, you retreated from the living room, the voices of the boys fading as you put some distance between you and the group.

In the dimly lit kitchen, you leaned against the countertop, your heart still racing from the tension in the room. The realization that Chan cherished those anonymous letters hit you like a ton of bricks. You'd never imagined how much they meant to him.

Just as you were lost in thought, the sound of footsteps behind you made you jump. You turned to find Chan standing there, a serious yet gentle expression on his face. His presence seemed to fill the room with warmth, and your anxiety ratcheted up another notch.

"Hey," he said softly, "You okay?"

You nodded, unable to form words an he took a step closer, his gaze never left yours.

Chan's brown eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt like the world had frozen around you. You couldn't contain the thoughts racing through your mind any longer. With a trembling voice, you finally asked the question that'd been gnawing at you.

"Do you know who's been sending those letters?"

Chan's expression remained calm, but you could see a glimmer of something in his eyes, a hint of knowing. He didn't answer immediately, instead, he stepped closer, narrowing the distance between you.

His voice was soft as he replied, "I have a feeling I might have a clue."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched his face for more hints. What did he mean by 'a clue'? It was clear he was being deliberately vague, and it only added to your curiosity.

"But," he continued, "I'd like to hear it from you. Tell me, do you know who it is?"

You hesitated, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. The walls between you and Chan seemed to dissolve, and the vulnerability in his eyes was mirrored in your own. With a shaky breath, you summoned the courage to speak, your voice quivering with fear and anticipation.

"It's me."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and uncertain. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, your eyes locked on the floor as you waited for his reaction. The seconds felt like hours as you replayed all the letters, and the emotions you'd poured into them.

Chan's silence stretched, and the tension in the room became palpable. Your heart raced, and you feared the worst — rejection, awkwardness, or even laughter.

Then, he reached out, gently lifting your chin with his fingers, forcing you to look into his eyes. The warmth and kindness in his gaze melted away your fears.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere. "I've cherished every single one."

As tears welled up in your eyes, Chan reached out to gently wipe them away with his thumb. He pulled you into a comforting embrace, holding you close as your emotions overwhelmed you. You couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they flowed freely as you nestled into his embrace. He whispered soothing words, his voice a balm to your soul, reassuring you that everything would be okay.

After a moment of shared comfort, you pulled away slightly, looking up at him with curiosity. "But how did you know it was me?" you finally asked, your voice still trembling.

Chan smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face, a knowing twinkle in his eye, and replied, "I had my suspicions, especially after some of the things you wrote. But what really gave it away was your handwriting."

You blinked in surprise.

Handwriting? You hadn't considered that, no, haven't even thought about it when you started this a year ago, and to be honest you felt a little dumb.

Chan continued, "I recognized your handwriting from a birthday card you gave me a while back. It was similar to the writing in the letters. And then, well, I saw you looking at me during our hangouts, and it all just started to make sense."

You blushed, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. It seemed like you'd left more clues than you thought. But instead of feeling exposed, you felt a strange sense of comfort knowing that he'd noticed your feelings all along.

With a shy smile, you said, "I guess I'm not very good at hiding my feelings, am I?"

Chan chuckled softly. "No, but that's okay. I'm glad you told me."

As you gazed into Chan's eyes, you noticed something change in his expression. The initial surprise and curiosity gave way to a more tender, understanding look. He cupped your face gently, his touch warm and reassuring.

"You know," he began softly, "I've always appreciated those letters. They made me feel special, like someone out there truly understood me. And I never wanted to pressure you into revealing yourself," Chan continued. "I wanted you to do it when you were ready."

"I was just afraid," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Afraid of what you might think, of how it might change things between us."

Chan's thumb traced small circles on your cheek as he reassured you, "Don't be. This doesn't change how I feel about what we have. If anything, it makes it even more special."

A tear escaped from the corner of your eye, but this time, it wasn't a tear of anxiety or fear. It was a tear of relief, of happiness. You leaned into Chan's touch, and he leaned closer, his eyes locked on yours, and before you knew it, his lips met yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to melt away as your lips met his, you felt the warmth of his body against yours, and the sensation sent shivers down your spine. His hands cradled your face, holding you gently but firmly, as if he never wanted to let you go.

The taste of his lips was sweet and comforting, like a warm embrace on a cold winter's day, you could feel the steady beat of Chan's heart, matching the rhythm of your own. The world around you disappeared, and there was only the two of you.

And just as you were lost in that sweet moment, the kitchen door burst open, and in walked your friends, their playful banter filling the room while wearing grins so wide they threatened to split their faces. Jeongin couldn't help but tease you, waggling his eyebrows playfully. "Well, well, looks like someone finally got the courage to make a move!"

Hyunjin joined in with a mock-sympathetic tone. "And here we thought we'd have to wait another century for this to happen!"

You blushed furiously, pulling away from Chan who chuckled in amusement, still holding you close. "You guys have impeccable timing," he remarked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

Jeongin winked at you, "Hey! We're just glad we won't have to hear you two mooning over each other anymore."

[vivid-ink]

'The Love Shack'

Part IV - Haunted by You

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22)

Part IV Summary:

It seemed like such a simple plan to execute: Stay away from Neteyam, distract yourself with other males and move on… But your body seems determined to fight you every step of the way, longing for the touch of a man you are desperate to forget… Your mind is haunted with memories of him, and the only place you seem able to find your pleasure is when you’re alone, drowning in your fantasies and pretending your touch is his…

Read Part I, II and III in my Masterlist HERE

Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Word count: 15k

Content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome smut, sex toy play, squirting, double penetration, anal sex

Author's Note:

This chapter really ran away with me. It was a struggle to write, at points, so I'm not sure how I've managed to churn out 15k words. 🥲 Now that I've written this part, I can confirm there will also be a final Part 5 to this series after this.

Without further ago, enjoy Part IV, my lovelies!

***~~~***

The sound was muted, hushed. It was a soft keen, so quiet he barely heard it.

Perhaps if Neteyam hadn’t recognised it, hadn’t replayed the sound so many times in his head, he would’ve thought nothing of it and kept walking. But his ears pricked upright in keen attention, swivelling instinctively in the direction of the noise. The turn of his head followed and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lo’ak slow in his steps and do the same, both of them, two brothers standing still with their heads turned in a perfect parallel of each other.

They were on their way home from a late-night run through the bush to calm their nerves as they’d both ended their work day tense after a disastrous day of hunting.

A miscommunication between the two hunting parties had lost them a valuable opportunity to bring down a small herd of yerik (hexapedes). Yerik were a prime resource for the clan; their meat was a staple food source and their hides and innards were useful for many things like clothing, weapons and other instruments. The lost opportunity had culminated in a series of heated arguments between the hunters and harsh words of blame had been exchanged.

Distracted now from their homebound journey, the two brothers stole through the brush like predators locked onto the sound of prey. The forest of the Great Mother was luminous around them and alive with the vibrancy of night. Years of warrior training and countless hunts meant that stealth was an ingrained habit of theirs. Even outside of their work hours they crept intuitively through the thick undergrowth of the woodlands on nimble feet and with soundless breaths.

Locating the source of the noise, Neteyam felt his mood curdle at the sight that greeted him through the loreyu (helicoradians) and eyaye ferns.

Lying sprawled on your back in the glade, thighs parted and beneath another eagerly rutting male, was you.

Your moans and whimpers had been unmistakeable, sounds that both he and Lo’ak would recognise anywhere after their many nights with you at the shack. Whatever tension Neteyam thought he’d rid himself off during his run returned to him in an instant, hot ire bubbling in his veins and seizing his muscles.

Everything had changed after his one night alone with you at the hot spring… You’d begun putting walls up after that night…

The memory of your reaction to his affection, of how you’d used your safeword during the tender intimacy you’d shared post-sex, stung bitterly in his chest. It was a painful reminder to Neteyam that whatever pleasure you chose to share with him was purely that; physical and nothing more.

An unimpressed groan left Lo’ak and he turned bothered eyes at his brother, his tail swishing low behind him, “At least now we know why she’s not coming to the shack anymore. She’s playing elsewhere.”

Lo’ak’s voice had been a low murmur, but Neteyam’s gaze flicked anxiously toward the coupling pair in the glade. Neither you nor your playmate appeared to have heard though. He rolled exasperated eyes at Lo’ak and shook his head slowly, scowling in upset. Begrudgingly, he glanced at you once more before he looked away, his eyes finding his feet.

A grumbling curse left Neteyam under his breath and he grouched sourly, “Well, let’s hope she’s satisfied.”

Lo’ak could see the thunderstorm of agitation brewing in his brother and he tugged on Neteyam’s elbow, urging him to move onward. Neteyam acquiesced, but not before he saw your back arch beneath your playmate and he heard you let out a higher-pitched moan. He frowned, cocking his head curiously.

The sound was all wrong… He knew what you sounded like when you came, when your passion finally consumed you. This moan was too controlled… It lacked the breathless quality and note of wild abandon that usually accompanied your cries of bliss.

Neteyam felt Lo’ak tug on his elbow again and he set his feet moving, following along behind his brother.

It appeared Lo’ak shared the same previous thought, however, and he scoffed a little louder as they shifted out of earshot, “She doesn’t sound very satisfied; rather contrived if you ask me.”

Neteyam gave a snort, “If it’s Kai she wants, then so be it.” He recognised the male you were with; tall, broad shoulders, with a head of long and thick dreadlocks.

Kai was the commander of the clan’s fisherfolk. The young man was the same age as Neteyam and had completed his rites of passage alongside him growing up. Kai had done well in archery and hand-to-hand combat, but he had excelled particularly with a fishing spear. He’d chosen to join the river platoon, hunting and gathering in the rivers, but he could easily have joined the warriors if he wanted to. Neteyam wasn’t close with Kai, but they were friendly enough.

Although that had changed in recent weeks…

Neteyam gritted his teeth until his jaw muscles ached. His breath whistled from his flaring nostrils as he walked and his steps weren’t so much stealthy now as they were stompy. He’d suspected for a while now that Kai was trying to woo you. The river huntsman had been lingering in your vicinity at mealtimes and he’d even started wishing you well in the mornings, seeing you off on your work days.

As Neteyam’s suspicions had grown, his greetings in passing with Kai had grown brisk. The easy smile he usually graced his fellow clan members with no longer made an appearance when he regarded the other man. And the more Kai loitered around and flirted with you, the more intense Neteyam’s glowers became whenever he was in Kai’s presence.

The tangle he and Lo’ak had found you and Kai in tonight was simple confirmation of what Neteyam already knew, and suddenly, Kai was a rival.

“You know, I don’t think that’s it.” Lo’ak’s voice came out of the blue after a while.

“What?”

Lo’ak looked back at his perturbed brother, “I don’t think Neyomi wants Kai.”

Neteyam’s expression was one of impatient displeasure. Did Lo’ak not just witness the same thing he did?...

His ears flattened in annoyance and his response was a bitter hiss, “She hasn’t come to the shack for three weeks straight and now we walk in on her fucking Kai. It’s pretty clear cut, bro.”

“She might be fucking him, but it’s you she really wants.”

Tetchily swatting a low-hanging shrub out of his eyeline, Neteyam’s laugh was incredulous, “Have you had your head in the clouds these last couple of moons, Lo’ak? She’s been distancing herself for weeks now. Her reaction after the one night I had with her made it quite clear that she doesn’t want anything deeper than body play.”

Neteyam felt his face contort into a crabby pout as he recalled the events that had followed. You’d barely been able to look at him the next day. It didn’t help that every time you spoke to him or answered him during your work days, you used your formal address of him as ‘sir’. What had been a playful and titillating game of rank that night had now become an awkward aide-memoire of your dismissal of his affection. And things had only worsened from there.

Your next visit to the shack had seen you impose a new boundary: No kissing. It wasn’t something you’d discussed with him and Lo’ak out loud, but it became clear after the first few rebuffs. It’d been obvious in the way you’d subtly twist your head so their seeking lips would meet your cheek instead, or how you’d deliberately keep your face tilted downward, buried in their necks or against their chests.

It hadn’t stopped Neteyam trying at first, but each unspoken denial hurt him more than the last, and when his attempts appeared to aggravate you, he gave up altogether. He’d already spooked you with his behaviour that one night and his fear of driving you away entirely made him play along with your new rules.

As if that wasn’t bad enough though, your weekly visits to the shack then began to dwindle. It had started with excuses: Your parents needed you for something; you weren’t feeling up to it; or something had cropped up. Eventually the excuses stopped, but so did your visits. You gave no reason to him or Lo’ak, but there was a tense and tacit understanding that lingered between the three of you whenever your work put you near each other, that your arrangement with them had reached a conclusion.

Lo’ak chewed on his bottom lip. Unlike Neteyam, he wasn’t convinced that you didn’t have feelings for his brother, “You need to talk to her, bro.”

“She’s avoiding me. She keeps things professional during work times and she’s near impossible to get hold of in the evenings. It’s a clear message. There’s nothing to discuss.”

Lo’ak frowned, his eyebrows pulling into a deep knit as he pondered his thoughts. He’d teased you about your crush on Neteyam many times. Tula had even confirmed to him that you had a soft spot for Neteyam, that you liked him. Great Mother, Lo’ak had seen the evidence of your growing emotional attachment to Neteyam for himself during the nights you’d spent with them at the shack.

He’d seen it in the way you responded to Neteyam: The way your hands had always reached instinctively for his brother; the way you’d kissed Neteyam so deeply and so keenly; the way in which you came so utterly undone in your pleasure only when it was his brother who fucked you; and the way it had always been Neteyam you curled up against if you fell asleep after their playtimes. Ordinarily, Lo’ak would’ve been incredibly envious, but he knew of the tender feelings Neteyam harboured quietly for you and he was happy for his brother that you appeared to reciprocate them.

But then something changed after the night you’d spent alone with Neteyam. Your behaviour flipped, almost becoming a direct contrast to what Lo’ak had initially seen. Something had spooked you that night, but Lo’ak didn’t believe for one moment that it was because your feelings for Neteyam had changed.

“You’re the olo’eyktan in waiting, successor to the clan.” Lo’ak reminded his brother matter-of-factly, swivelling around to face Neteyam, “If you need to speak to her, you have ways of ensuring a meeting.”

Tail lashing behind him, the affront was clear in Neteyam’s stance and in his outraged expression, “I won’t use a formal summons to get her to talk to me! What kind of man would I be, cornering her like that?”

“A man who fights for what he wants!”

Neteyam snarled heatedly, shouldering past Lo’ak to walk onward, “Enough! This conversation ends here, bro.”

Growing up as the annoying little brother had its perks. Lo’ak was used to weathering Neteyam’s admonishments and he wasn’t letting this argument go. It seemed so simple in his mind. Neteyam had feelings for you and Lo’ak was quite sure you felt the same. All that stood in the way appeared to be mixed signals that stemmed from a lack of communication and badly wounded pride on his brother’s part.

Deciding to change tact, Lo’ak broached a related subject, “Didn’t Grandmother agree to what you and Dad proposed to her?”

“Yes.” Neteyam’s patience was wearing thin.

“So what’s stopping you opening up to Neyomi? There’s literally nothing standing in your way now. Didn’t you initiate the arrangement because of her?”

“Actually, the arrangement was Mum and Dad’s idea because of Kiri and her talents.”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes and waved a hand in the air, “Whatever! But you backed the proposed arrangement because of Neyomi. It gave you the opportunity you wanted and now that you’ve got the tsahìk’s approval, and Kiri’s acceptance, you’re just going to throw it all away and let things slide?”

Neteyam whirled around to face Lo’ak and though his volume was a careful hiss, his words dripped with acrimony and his fists were clenched tight, “She doesn’t want me, Lo’ak! You weren’t there that night! We were done playing, just winding down. I had her in my arms and she used her safeword! She was uncomfortable!”

“That’s such bullshit, bro. She used to let you clean her up, let you take care of her and coddle her. She was happy for me to join in, but it certainly wasn’t my arms she used to fall asleep in.” Lo’ak countered, shooting his brother a shrewd stare, “Look, I don’t know what’s happening with her. All I know is that something spooked her that night, but it sure as hell isn’t because she suddenly decided to go off you.”

“It is what it is.”

Lo’ak looked on silently at Neteyam’s retreating back as his brother strode away from him. With a long-suffering sigh, Lo’ak dragged a hand down his face. Neteyam was level-headed and wise when it came to matters of leadership and strategy. He was adept in his navigation of clan politics and his interpersonal skills were strong, but if there was an area of life that wasn’t Neteyam’s strong suit, it was women.

Women fawned over him and he enjoyed them easily enough, but Neteyam didn’t know women like Lo’ak did. And Lo’ak knew that when it came to a woman’s behaviour, things were never as straightforward as they seemed.

***~~~***

“Thanks for walking me home.” You pushed onto the balls of your feet to brush a kiss of gratitude against Kai’s cheek.

“Don’t mention it. Goodnight Neyomi, sleep well.” Dissatisfied though with your chaste farewell, one of Kai’s hands caught your elbow and he pulled you towards him to claim a proper kiss against your lips.

They were smooth and warm, comforting, but also entirely wrong…

Kai’s kisses didn’t spark passion within you, they didn’t make your heart skip a beat or make your stomach flutter with need. His kisses were too soft, almost tentative at times as if he didn’t want to scare you. It wasn’t what you craved. You craved confidence, sure hands and sure lips that consumed you entirely as they set your body ablaze with desire.

You forced as genuine a smile as you could at Kai as you pulled away to disappear into your family’s shelter, “Goodnight, same to you.”

Your parents would be asleep by now, but you still skulked through your home on silent feet towards the little alcove that was your own private space in the shelter. You were the youngest of three siblings and your two older brothers had left home several years ago after getting mated. It made home seem less lively than you remembered as a child, but you were thankful for the lack of people about now.

Less people at home meant less chance of someone overhearing what you were about to do. You hadn’t found satisfaction with Kai tonight and your body still burned with the need to be satiated.

You liked Kai, you really did. He was warm-hearted, thoughtful and incredibly sweet. He was strongly built and also good-looking. In fact, his build was very similar to Neteyam’s, tall and brawny in all the places a woman appreciated. Guiltily, you acknowledged within yourself that it had been the similarities in his physique that had drawn you to him in the first place. However, apart from his height and muscular build, that was where the similarities ended.

Hidden now in the privacy of your alcove, you double-checked that the thick cloths that hung from its entryway were tied and fastened to keep them closed and you lit the small oil lamp that hung in the corner. Little needles of shame pricked in your gut as you unfastened the ties at your hips and behind your back, letting your loincloth fall while you shimmied out of your chest piece.

You weren’t ashamed of touching yourself, that part was natural. It was the shame of the entire conundrum you found yourself in that made your face flame. You’d been seeing Kai casually for just over a moon now and while your encounters with him were pleasant, and his touch felt good, your traitorous mind refused to forget the other man who your heart yearned for. Your body refused to submit to Kai’s touch and it denied you the height of pleasure with him as a result.

Kai tried, truly. It wasn’t lack of enthusiasm or skill on his part. It just didn’t feel the same. He simply wasn’t Neteyam. So, to avoid the certainty of awkward conversations and to save Kai’s pride, you’d faked your pleasure with him from the beginning. How low you had sunk…

It had been Tula’s suggestion to distance yourself and try to connect with other males. Near distraught at the doom you felt after the night you’d shared with Neteyam, you’d spilled the entire truth to your best friend the next evening. Tula had looked on with a myriad of emotions and reactions as you relayed your story from start to finish; of your secret arrangement with the brothers, of the unadulterated bliss you found with them, and the subsequent crash and burn of your emotions for Neteyam at the end. You’d thought you could keep things simple, keep the lines clearly drawn between pleasure and emotion, but you’d failed ultimately.

Beautiful soul that she was, Tula hadn’t judged you, only comforted and consoled you before advising you of what you already knew you had to do. Put space between you and Neteyam, end the arrangement with him and Lo’ak, and try to move on. But alas it wasn’t working…

Sinking down to sit on your heels with your knees splayed, one of your hands snaked downward to its destination between your parted thighs. Licking your lips, you let your head loll backwards, eyelids sliding shut as your fingers smoothed through your still soaked folds. Your pussy throbbed, appreciating the repeated stroke of your fingers delving into its slick depths, alternating with a sensual massage over the swollen nub of your clit. You were helpless to stop the torrent of images and memories of Neteyam that swamped your mind; the feel of him suckling at your nipples; the feel of his longer, thicker fingers stroking in and out of your pussy; the ravenous look in his amber eyes as he looked at you while his tongue and lips wrought pleasurable havoc at your core.

Rolling a nipple between the fingers of your free hand, the dual stimulation made your pussy squeeze and pulse desperately for something to fill it. The three fingers you had buried to your last knuckle inside you weren’t cutting it and you needed something bigger. Your eyes travelled to the neatly piled heap of your belongings on your right where a cloth-covered satchel sat.

Pausing in your pleasure, you reached for the satchel and undid the fastening at its front to flip it open. Rummaging through it, it didn’t take long for your hand to grasp hold of what you were looking for.

Long, girthy and weighty in your palm, the blue toy was a striking replica of a Na’vi cock. It was called a dildo apparently and its use was obvious to you from the first time you’d laid eyes on it. You’d filched the toy from the toy box at the shack many weeks ago when the brothers hadn’t been looking. If they had noticed its absence since, they hadn’t remarked on it.

Heat pooled between your legs and you could feel your slick dripping from you in anticipation as you turned the dildo over in your hands. It wasn’t as smooth or as seamlessly designed as the other toys you’d been introduced to, and it didn’t hum, but by Eywa did it feel fucking good with its bulbous head and its ridged shaft. The dildo had a flanged base where it could suction to a flat surface and you reached towards your pile of belongings again for its accompanying aid.

Gingerly, so you didn’t make a sound, you extracted a long and shallow wooden serving platter from the pile. You turned it upside down so the smooth wood of its polished base was turned upwards towards you and placed it between your thighs. A wave of embarrassment washed over you again as you positioned the dildo on the platter so you could mount it.

Great Mother, your mother would kill you if she knew what you were doing with her serveware…

Lifting your hips and shuffling forward on your knees, you let the head of the dildo smooth past your folds, lubricating it. You were so wet that you knew the impressive size of the toy would be no issue upon entry. Aligning it with one hand, you let your weight bear down on it and your other hand flew to your mouth to stifle a muted cry as it breached you.

The stretch of it entering you was rapturous and your aching pussy eagerly swallowed its length whole, your inner walls squeezing appreciatively around its fulfilling girth until you bottomed out. It wasn’t warm with body heat and it wasn’t attached to your man of choice, but it was a close second. You undulated your hips, testing the feel of things, and when unfettered ripples of pleasure shot through your core at the movement you instinctively began a rhythm of gyrating hip thrusts.

Your fingers circled at your clit while you moved, your body rippling back and forth in time with the slight up and down of your hips. Your thighs burned with the exertion, but your pussy burned even more torturously as your climax came hurtling towards you. An unbidden fantasy of Neteyam groaning beneath you plastered itself to the back of your closed eyelids. You rode him wildly, imagined the feel of his fingers digging into your hips while you worked his hard cock in and out of you. You could see the sheen of sweat on his forehead, the shine of it over his flexing abdominals as he panted and strained with you. And then you felt the familiar burn of urgent pressure low in your pelvis.

It was like an old friend that had come by to visit. The urgent pressure mingled with the pulsating of your pussy and it thrilled you because you knew what it signalled, what was coming. You hadn’t felt this sensation in weeks, not since your last session at the shack when Neteyam had pinned you beneath him and drilled into you from behind with your face pushed into the plush bedding. Your encounters with Kai hadn’t even come close to the mounting bliss you were feeling now.

Caressing one of your breasts and stroking over the nipple one last time, you flew over the edge of ecstasy into freefall. Your face scrunched tight and you fought to remain quiet while your core clenched and pulsed with orgasm. Your inner walls had a crushing hold on the dildo, gripping it within you and your pussy gave a cathartic little squirt of pleasure. Chest heaving with panting breaths, your vision cleared as you opened your eyes, the last image your mind supplied was one of Neteyam smiling sleepily up at you.

The furnishings of the alcove swirled around you, the flickering flame in the oil lamp casting warm shadows about the place. You were alone in your alcove and you’d once again touched yourself to imaginings of a man you were supposed to be trying to forget. A juddery sigh of defeat left you and you flopped over onto your side, rolling onto your back so you could press your fingers firmly against your eye sockets.

The futility of the situation began to overwhelm you and you felt hot tears sting behind your closed eyes. Try as hard as you might, your little plan of ‘move on and forget’ wasn’t working. Kai was a wonderful man, skilled, respected and honourable. You enjoyed his company and everything about him showed real promise that he could be a good mate for you. But the heart wanted what it wanted, and it was Neteyam that your heart soared and longed for.

You hiccupped as sobs began to wrack your frame then. Your hands were pressed tight over your face and your palms grew wet from the streams of your tears. A smothered snuffle snuck its way out from behind the cage of your fingers and you fought to keep any more from escaping. The lump in your throat hurt and you swallowed it down stickily.

It said a lot that you found your sobs harder to stifle than your moans of bliss.

If only you’d kept your distance from the beginning. In hindsight, it would’ve been easier for you to have never known Neteyam like you now did, and to just have watched, daydreaming from afar. But too late now. You’d made your bed and now you had to lie in it.

***~~~***

Your emotions had gotten the better of you last night and you’d awoken far later than you were supposed to this morning. You’d hauled yourself from the floor onto your bed at some point and proceeded to cry yourself to sleep. Your mother’s concerned voice had roused you in the morning as she’d jostled the hanging cloths at your alcove entrance with a query about why you weren’t up yet. You’d shot a panicked glance at the floor then, before relief washed over you when you found that you’d at least had the sense to remove the evidence of your late-night activities before bedding down.

Your pa’li whickered softly and you treated her to a sweet tuber while you continued to secure your hunting gear to her leathery back. Blinking scratchy eyes, your stomach rumbled with hunger. You’d woken so late this morning that you’d missed communal breakfast, so a lone yovo fruit from your family’s fruit bowl had been your only breakfast sustenance so far. Today would be a gruelling day again. The hunting platoons were going to make a second attempt at felling the small herd of yerik that was passing through the clan’s territory.

Neteyam was in a particularly disagreeable mood this morning.

He’d been very terse during his briefing of the hunters, making sure to reiterate and clarify the plan several times before sending them all to their departure positions. It was fair to say that he was likely still upset about yesterday’s failure, but the botch-up had been as much his fault as it was yours. The miscommunication between his platoon and yours had occurred because his orders hadn’t been clear, but you’d also been too proud to clarify, so you’d assumed and assumed wrongly. All because you were avoiding as much interaction with him as much as possible.

Stupid.

“Good morning, sevin (pretty).”

You heard Kai before you saw him and you couldn’t help but smile at his smooth voice. He really was very sweet. Turning to face him, you greeted him with a kiss to his cheek and he extended his greeting by placing a warm kiss against your temple as well.  

“Look at you in your warrior garb. So fierce and ready to take on whatever danger the day brings.” Kai teased with a toothy grin.

He was dressed for his work day too in a simple loincloth, fishing spear in hand and his long dreads bundled atop his head in a messy topknot. The fisherfolk spent much of their day in the rivers wading and swimming, so the lack of any other accessories, like arm bands, limb guards or necklaces, all served to reduce friction while they swam. Even without all the embellishment, you had to admit Kai looked good.

Tutting your tongue you cocked your head at him and shrugged, “Well, you could’ve been a warrior too, Kai. I remember you did well in training.”

“Nah, the rivers have always called to me.” Kai answered assuredly. He held up a small parcel in his free hand, “Here, I noticed you missed breakfast so I brought you a niktsyey (food wrap) to take with you. You’ll need your energy.”

“Thank you.” You accepted the parcel gratefully, its delicious scent drawing another audible rumble from your stomach and you both laughed. Grinning at Kai, you placed a hand on his muscular chest and wished him well, “Eywa be with you, have a good day.”

Kai nodded, one of his large hands covering yours where it rested against him, “You too. I’ll see you tonight-”

“Neyomi!” A booming call of your name sounded in the near distance before you could utter your response. Neteyam.

Kai’s eyeline flicked over your shoulder and his ears pinned flat, his jaw clenching tightly. He squeezed your hand before taking a few steps back from you, letting it drop to your side again as Neteyam came striding up to the pair of you.

“Neteyam,” Kai greeted coolly, acknowledging the other male.

“Kai,” Neteyam’s acknowledgement was equally frigid.

Neteyam turned to regard you and you were momentarily struck by his arresting presence. Neteyam always looked striking, especially so when he was in full regalia with his arm bands, leather limb guards, cummerbund hugging his waist and dagger strapped across his chest. The glower on his face today was new, but the addition only seemed to add to the appeal.

“We’re already running behind time.” Neteyam’s gaze then shifted back to Kai, “I’m sure as commander of the fisherfolk you can appreciate the importance of timeliness where orders have been given to move out.” His words were a deliberate jab at Kai and the implication that he was holding you up was clear.

“I was just giving Neyomi some food to take with her.” Kai’s icy response was delivered with a scowl that rivalled Neteyam’s.

“The warriors have packed plenty of food for our journey. We’re more than prepared.” Neteyam hissed.

“Yes, but she missed breakfast this morning.” Kai countered, his posture and his glare throwing Neteyam an unspoken challenge, “Now, as future olo’eyktan, I’m sure you can appreciate the importance of looking after those in your command and ensuring they have what they need, the most basic of which is keeping them fed.”

The challenge was not well-received by Neteyam and the ferocious snarl that left him shocked you. Kai took a step back but returned a snarl of his own, both males baring their teeth with pinned ears and whipping tails.

“Enough! What the fuck is wrong with both of you?” You growled, maddened by their ridiculous behaviour, “If you’re done comparing cocks, then let’s all get to work, shall we? Since we’re so late.” Your last sentence was thrown at Neteyam with a glare, and you shoved past him to mount your pa’li.

Kai shot you an apologetic glance as you cantered past him towards your waiting platoon.

Flustered by the testosterone-fuelled interaction you’d just witnessed, you hastily unwrapped the niktsyey and took a big bite out of the savoury wrap. You paused. You couldn’t smell your food.

Kai’s and Neteyam’s scents had spiked during their spat, their bodies emitting a pungent surge of pheromones that now clogged your nostrils, both alluring and both very male. But only one of those scents lingered heavier and for longer than the other, tantalising you, causing your nipples to stiffen and sending liquid heat pooling between your thighs.

You sighed.

No prizes were being awarded for guessing whose scent was responsible for your body’s reaction…

***~~~***

You jolted awake with a start, the peaceful serenity of the surrounding woodland glade quickly coming back to you as Kai’s shoulder shifted a little beneath your cheek. Instantly, you felt remorse as you realised you’d done it yet again, fallen asleep on one of your date nights with Kai. The patch of young grass you were both lying on was soft beneath your elbow as you moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position. You turned contrite eyes at Kai who gave you a weak smile.

“Sorry, I fell asleep again.” You apologised shamefacedly, “You’re not boring, I swear. I think I’m just really tired tonight.”

“It’s alright,” Kai answered, his strong abdominals contracting as he pulled himself upright into a sitting position without using his arms. He reached out to pat at your hair on the side of your head that you’d fallen asleep on, smoothing down the fly-aways that had freed themselves from your braided locks. “I’ve had a lot on my mind, so it gave me some time to think.”

His kind face was vexed and a furrow creased his forehead. His thick mane of dreads was loose and they framed his head and shoulders quite impressively. It made him look very imposing, but you knew Kai was gentle-natured. It was one of the reasons he chose not to pursue a warrior’s path despite excelling in all his physical training tests. He preferred more temperate work as opposed to the potentially dangerous and adrenalin-filled rush of hunting and patrolling.

Feeling a renewed rush of penance as you took in his troubled mien, you took one of his hands in yours, “I feel bad. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. It’s a day of rest tomorrow so we can head out during the day, maybe take our ikran out for a flight and stop somewhere? Then you can tell me what’s bothering you, if you want to share.”

Kai was also easy-going and he usually leapt at any opportunity to spend time with you, but he seemed unsure today. He began worrying his lower lip between his teeth, appearing to be seriously deliberating your suggestion.

Growing apprehensive at the uncharacteristic and uncomfortable silence, you filled it, “Or not. We don’t have to if you’ve got other plans. I really am sorry for falling asleep. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He chuckled and scratched uneasily at his jaw, “I’m not upset that you fell asleep, it’s OK really.”

“But?” You could sense there was something else weighing on him, something that was on the tip of his tongue that he was wavering over.

“I don’t think we should see each other like this anymore.”

Kai’s words were unexpected and they hit you like an unwelcome splash of cold water. Confusion flushed through you and you felt your own brows pull into a frown as you spluttered, “What? Why?”

“There are things going on in the background that need to be resolved and they’re outside my circle of control.”

There was something in the inflection of his voice, an unspoken implication that pointed at these unresolved issues being your responsibility to settle. He wasn’t being direct about his meaning though and your annoyance flared, “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Look, I may have respectable standing in the hierarchy of this clan as commander of the fisherfolk, but even I have enough self-preservation to know better than to challenge the future olo’eyktan.” 

An incredulous scoff left you and you blinked in disbelief, “Wait, is this about what happened with Neteyam last week? Before we left on that yerik hunt?”

Kai’s silence was all the confirmation you required.

“No, Kai, come on. He was in a really bad mood that day. He’s not normally like that.”

Kai’s answering laugh was bitter and he shook his head, “Neteyam has been glaring daggers at me for weeks now. He’s territorial over you and he’s made his claim clear to me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. It was ridiculous what you were hearing and indignance swelled within you, “That’s bullshit! He has no such claim on me whatsoever and if he’s told you so then he’s lying!”

“He’s not said anything, but it’s been clear in his behaviour.” Kai clarified.

“So what?” You exclaimed, your exasperation clear in the way you threw your hands into the air, “Don’t I get a say in this? You’re just going to tuck tail and run?”

“It’s not just that-”

But you weren’t listening. Your skin prickled with anger, outraged that Neteyam appeared to be consciously sabotaging your budding relationship with Kai. As if he hadn’t caused enough emotional turmoil in your life already… You were trying so hard to move on and for some reason unknown to you, Neteyam had decided to act up. The man had barely spoken three sentences to you in the last moon!

“I’ll talk to him.” You declared to Kai firmly, “I’ll set him straight!”

“Neyomi, stop. Listen.” Kai implored, clasping your hands in his to stop your heated gesticulations. The points of his ears lay flat, not angry, more defeated and unhappy. He held your gaze and his eyes were cheerless as he continued, “I know that you have history with Neteyam. I don’t know the exact details, nor do I want to. But whatever it is going on between you, I can’t continue seeing you like this until it’s resolved.”

“There’s nothing going on between me and Neteyam.” You spat. Ain’t that the truth…

Kai let go of your hands, letting his own slide gently from yours before returning them to his lap. His voice when he spoke was a murmur, but his words were incriminating, “You talk in your sleep.”

You froze and dread seized hold of your heart at what you might have muttered unknowingly.

Consciously making every effort to appear unaffected by his words, you queried, “What did I say?”

“Just his name.”

You attempted to brush it off with a scoff, “What? Just now? I don’t remember what I was dreaming about, but I might’ve been having a work argument with him for goodness sake.”

Kai exhaled and he asserted more firmly. “No, you sighed his name. And it’s happened on more than once occasion.”

The gravity of the situation was plain and you were scrambling to formulate an answer, anything at all that would refute the impression that Kai had formed. You decided to stick to the facts.

“There isn’t anything and will never be anything between Neteyam and me. He’ll choose a woman fit to be our next tsahìk. That won’t be me.”

“So you don’t deny your feelings then?”

“W-What?” You stammered, taken aback by the directness of the question, “Neteyam can’t claim me, Kai! It’s not possible!”

With an exasperated growl that surprised even you, Kai slammed his palm down onto the lush grass beside him, “I’m not talking about him right now, I’m talking about you!”

It was surreal what was happening and an odd, foggy feeling was consuming you. Part of you was reeling in disbelief and another other part of you was simmering with ire.

Your answered in a quiet voice, “I want this to work.”

Kai’s sigh was heavy and when his gaze met yours again, you perceived firm resolution in them. He replied, “So do I, but it won’t work if your heart’s not in it.” He rested one hand on your knee, “Look, when all this has blown over, and if and when you’re ready to open up fully, you know where to find me. But I don’t want to be second-best and I don’t want to be settled for. I’ll see you round, sevin.”

With a sad smile, Kai squeezed your knee before rising to his feet. He threw you one last parting glance and departed, leaving you flummoxed in the glade. Your brain made a frantic attempt to sort through the whirlpool of your emotions; shock, woe, confusion… But the dominant emotion was anger. Beneath the surprise on the surface, you were frothing with rage, not at Kai, but at Neteyam.

There’d been inklings of something good with Kai, something you could grow into and learn to cherish. Sure, your body seemed slow on the uptake, but perhaps that would change as time passed and as the memories of your mistakes began to dull. However, Kai had snuffed that little flame of possibility out tonight.

You pressed your lips together in mounting irritation as your breaths began to heave louder and louder. You counted the days of the week and realised it was the fifth night, which was when you’d normally have gone to meet the brothers. Shack night. Perfect.

Hopefully the object of your ire would be where you expected him to be, because you had a mighty big bone to pick with him.

***~~~***

Neteyam swilled the pulpy residue of his rumautpxir (fermented cannonball fruit beer) that was left in the wooden vessel he held. The alcoholic odour of it burned his nose a little and it certainly burned going down his throat too, but the drink was a welcome indulgence on nights like these. He was reclined in a hammock strung inside the old shack and it swayed gently with his movements. The oil lamps about the place flickered, bathing the shack in a lambent glow. 

He expected your no-show tonight, to be fair. You hadn’t come to the shack for the last three weeks and tonight was the fourth in a row. Neteyam’s heart twisted sorely in his chest and his mind gave a mental eye-roll at the expected result. Licking his lips, he downed the bitter remnants of beer and swung his legs out of the hammock to get a refill.

The quiet chafing of a blade against wood filled the background while Lo’ak busied himself with carving a new wooden charm that he intended to affix to a choker necklace. Ordinarily he’d be yammering away to Neteyam whilst he worked, but his brother wasn’t in a talking mood tonight. Lo’ak had all but given up trying to convince him to speak to you. Sulky wasn’t a description Lo’ak would ever have used to describe Neteyam in the past, but the last four weeks had changed that.

Neteyam had always been quick to learn, quick to bounce back from setbacks, but you’d clearly wounded him acutely with your dismissal of his affections and his pride hadn’t recovered. This only served to exemplify to Lo’ak the depth of what his older brother felt for you, but Neteyam was convinced you didn’t feel the same and that talking to you would only wound him further.

“Want a refill, bro?” Neteyam asked, holding his hand out to receive Lo’ak’s empty vessel.

“Nah, thanks. I’m good. I’ve already had four tonight, which is plenty.” Lo’ak eyed the refilled vessel that Neteyam was nursing. This was easily his fifth or sixth of the night and his inebriation was clear in the slightly glazed look of his eyes. Thank Eywa that tomorrow was a day of rest for the clan…

The familiar swish and rustle of foliage outside the shack made Lo’ak’s ears twitch in keen attention. He set down his craftwork, eyeline instantly trained on the shack’s entrance. He saw Neteyam had turned to do the same. Someone was approaching and judging by the rapidly thumping crunch of leaves under their feet, they were approaching quickly.

In a flash, the heavy draping cloths at the shack’s entrance flew aside to admit you as you stormed through the entryway. Your breaths were audible and you were sporting a deep scowl. If he wasn’t a warrior, Lo’ak would’ve jumped at the ferocity of your entrance. However, the only thought that crossed his mind as he took in your outraged state was that you reminded him very much of their mother Neytiri in that instant, all fearsome grace and incredible beauty.

“You!” You snarled, catching sight of Neteyam and closing the distance between you in several big strides. You aimed a forceful shove against his chest with both arms, causing him to take a step back.

The sight of your figure storming into the shack was a shock to Neteyam, but he only had seconds to ponder if it was a drunken hallucination before your violent shove knocked him backward. He hissed a curse as his drink slopped messily over his hand and wrist from the force.

Neteyam hissed caustically, fixing you with narrowed eyes, “Didn’t your parents ever teach you that shoving someone while they’re holding a drink is rude?”

“Well, let me solve that problem for you then.” You snatched the vessel from his hand and brought it to your lips. Tipping your head back, you downed the contents in three large gulps. The alcohol scorched its way down your throat and you grimaced, its bitter fumes stinging your nose and making your eyes water.

“Whoa, easy sweet thing. You’re supposed to drink that stuff slowly.” Lo’ak remarked, carefully setting aside his work and dusting his hands off to get to his feet. He moved closer to Neteyam, but stopped short of standing beside him, opting to stand a few feet away instead. He sensed that things were going to turn heated between you and his brother.

Recovering quickly from the alcohol’s physical assault on your senses, you slammed your hands against Neteyam’s shoulders again in another shunt, “You need to leave Kai alone! Mind your own business and stay out of my shit!”

Neteyam was quick to catch you by your elbows though and his firm grip encircled your upper arms. He emitted a hoarse chortle and he smirked at you, “Kai sending you to fight his battles for him, is he?”

You could tell Neteyam was drunk, the sweet odour of the beer lingering on his breath and seeping from his pores to mingle with his scent. You squirmed, fighting his hold but failed to break free. You carried on your tirade nonetheless, “How dare you intimidate him! You’ve got no right. You’ve got no claim over me whatsoever and you never will!”

Your last words were a shriek and even Lo’ak felt their impact. He snuck a cautious glance at Neteyam and saw the effect they had on him. His brother’s jaw was clenched, his upper lip curled in a slight snarl. Lo’ak sighed internally. Eywa, your words were just another blow to his brother’s pride…

Neteyam fought to hide the injury your words caused him. It was yet another painful reminder that you didn’t return his affections. He still had a hold of you and your chin was tilted up defiantly as you stared up at him in challenge.

He growled, “If Kai has a problem with me then perhaps he needs to grow a pair and bring it up with me himself.”

Your mouth snapped shut then and you couldn’t find any appropriate response to Neteyam’s retort without having to admit that Kai had ended things with you tonight. All you could do was glare at him. You realised in that moment that while Kai’s decision to break up with you was upsetting, you weren’t hurt by it. You were disappointed, maybe? But the root cause of your current bitterness was really Neteyam’s audacious interference.

Neteyam watched you, his amber orbs piercing your own gaze as he waited for your answer. Your response never came and that in itself was telling. He understood then what had happened and he snorted, “He didn’t fight for you, did he? Typical.”

Lo’ak pursed his lips at the hypocrisy of Neteyam’s remark and he couldn’t help the smartass comment that left him in a mutter, “Bit rich coming from you, bro.” His brother’s reaction was instant and a snarl of warning was thrown his way.

Much to Lo’ak’s disappointment, you didn’t catch on to his meaning and you continued to twist in Neteyam’s hold. You shrieked, “Only because you’re throwing your weight around where you have no business doing so! Let me go, kurkung (asshole)!”

Your struggling only seemed to spur Neteyam on further and he looped a muscled arm around your waist, clutching you to him. Trapped against his torso now, you cursed your traitorous body as it took note of how hot his body was, and how the heady musk of his scent filled your nose. You’d missed this, missed him… You were angry still, but the heat of your ire was quickly waning. Being in his arms felt so disastrously right…

Neteyam crushed your slighter frame to his, scenting the skin of your neck in small puffing sniffs. He could smell you so clearly at this proximity and he hated that he could smell Kai on you. It’d been weeks since he’d held you against him and the addition of his alcohol-induced confidence made him daring with his words, “You stink of him, paskalin.”

“Don’t call me that. Let me go and you won’t have to smell it anymore.” You hissed, but it sounded half-hearted even to your own ears as the words left you.

“No.” Neteyam’s voice was a rumbling purr and he rubbed his cheeks against yours while his hands roamed the expanse of your slender back.

You knew what he was doing. He was marking you with his scent. Your body warred with the logic in your mind. Your conscience told you to finish saying your piece and leave, but your body wanted to indulge in this gorgeous male it had been denied the pleasure of for weeks. Your neck prickled when the heat of another warm body closed in on you from behind. Lo’ak.

“Forget about Kai. He doesn’t deserve you if he won’t fight for you.” Lo’ak murmured matter-of-factly, settling his hands on your hips and caressing your skin. His eyes locked with Neteyam’s behind your back then and he gave his older brother a sharp and pointed look, “The right man will.”

“I’m not staying. I didn’t come here for this.” Your tone was more breathless than you’d anticipated and you could feel the alcohol you’d foolishly guzzled earlier settling in a haze over you, clouding your inhibitions. Your head was craned to the side, your jaw cradled in one of Neteyam’s hands while his lips worshipped the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You don’t sound very convinced, sweet thing.” Lo’ak chuckled hoarsely. His hands stroked in a bold path from your hips to your bottom, squeezing the pert flesh of your derriere, “We’ve missed you since you’ve been away spending time with that skxawng.”

“Leave Kai alone. What’s your problem with him?”

Never one to pass on an opportunity to crack a joke, Lo’ak snickered and crowed, “Nothing. There’s just something fishy about him.”

It was a corny attempt at a joke, but it elicited an amused chortle from Neteyam nonetheless and even you had to fight a grin.

However, the moment of light-heartedness was short-lived and you reminded yourself of why you’d even come to the shack in the first place. You fortified your defences, squirming away from Neteyam only to find your back wedged against Lo’ak’s front. You were thoroughly sandwiched between them.

You pressed your point insistently again, “Stop it, both of you. I came here to make a point, now let me go.”

“Aww come on, sweet thing. You might as well stay and play now that you’re here.” Lo’ak cooed, tracing the fingers of one hand up the seam of your buttocks to grasp the base of your tail. He twisted it in his palm and the feeling sent a sensual shudder through you. “You didn’t even say goodbye the last time.”

Lo’ak’s lips began their own assault on the free side of your neck that Neteyam wasn’t attending to, and you fought the urge to whimper. Their hot hands were everywhere; gripping your hips, tickling your ribs and caressing your tail. There was so much of them against you, hot and masculine and Great Mother did they smell good. Their scents were familiar, strangely comforting yet also tantalising in the promise of the pleasure you knew the brothers could bring you.

And by Eywa, you had missed the pleasure… Your body ached for it… The urge to just give in was so strong. In your mind, it was as if you stood on the edge of an abyss within which raged a churning whirlpool that would swallow you whole if you stepped off the ledge.

Neteyam’s lips wandered from your neck, pressing kisses along your jaw and up to the corner of your lips. You stiffened. You wanted his kiss, craved the sweet, searing heat of it… But no, you’d be taking five steps backward if you were stupid tonight…You turned your face from his.

Neteyam’s jaw tightened at your refusal. Fine, still no kissing… But he was desperate and he would take what he could get from you. He uttered his request, “Alright, you’ve made your point. I’ll back off Kai, but only if you stay tonight. One last time, paskalin.”

Lo’ak chimed in with a filthy promise by your other ear, “You know you won’t regret it. You never do.”

Your knees almost buckled and you knew your mind had lost the fight against your body when you felt your inner walls clench and flutter involuntarily.

Fuck it. Fuck logic, fuck your conscience.

You’d spent the better part of the last several weeks trying to pick up the pieces of your dignity, only to find yourself right back where you started every time you’d faked an orgasm with Kai and then touched yourself to thoughts of Neteyam after. You just wanted to feel good now, wanted to feel your body detonate with mindless ecstasy. Fuck it all. You’d deal with your regression later. That was a tomorrow problem.

Their breaths were hot around you and you could smell the alcohol they’d both imbibed. Their loincloths didn’t do much to disguise their erections. Their hard arousals dug into your flesh, one poking insistently into one round of your bottom while another was nestled against your lower belly.

Resigning yourself to your fate, you hissed an impertinent taunt, “You’re both steaming drunk. How long can you keep those cocks hard for?”

Their dark chuckles resonated in the shack as the brothers smirked triumphantly at each other. Lo’ak’s fingers were already flying to untie your loincloth while Neteyam dropped to his knees and pushed your breasts free of their covering, opting to indulge himself with a taste of your nipples while his fingers dealt with discarding the covering there.

“You let us worry about our cocks and just focus on yourself. Rest assured we’ll stay hard long enough to do more than satisfy you.” Lo’ak guaranteed, and without any verbal warning, he hauled your now nude form into his arms and carried you to the main play area at the back of the shack.

He settled you on your feet before the large mirror in the space to divest himself of his own clothing. When he straightened to full height again, just as bare now as you were, you reached out to give his proud cock a stroke. Lo’ak sucked a breath in through his teeth and his hips jolted forward into your grasp, “Oh, he’s missed you alright. Tonight’s not about us boys though. It’s all you, sweet thing.”

Neteyam wasn’t far behind and he returned to join you and Lo’ak. He’d clearly paid a visit to the toy box and he deposited a few of your favourite toys onto the bed behind you. He strode up to you, but before you could greet his naked body in the same manner you’d greeted Lo’ak’s, he clasped your chin in a firm but not ungentle hold. Tilting your face up to his, he eyed the outline of your plush lips.

For a moment, you thought Neteyam was going to infringe on the boundary you’d set as his face neared yours. His lips grazed yours, but it was the lightest of touches and not quite a kiss. You both felt and heard him as he murmured against your lips, “Since you won’t let me kiss these, I’ll have to content myself with kissing you everywhere else. Any other boundaries tonight?”

Freeing both of your hands, you ran your palms down his front, enjoying the ridges and planes of his muscled chest and defined abdominals beneath your fingers. Finally reaching him where he strained the hardest, you gripped his cock and pumped your fist several times, spreading the already beading pre-cum over the rigid length of him. Neteyam flinched at the contact and his eyes slid shut in pleasure.

“No, no other boundaries. Just the usual. Same safeword.”

A low purr of approval sounded from Lo’ak behind you and he reached around you to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking repeatedly over the peaked buds of your lilac-coloured nipples. You moaned wantonly and pushed your bosom out towards his touch, the pleasure pulses zinging in a direct line from your nipples to your pussy. Neteyam swiped two fingers between the apex of your thighs and, even without looking, you could tell you were embarrassingly wet already just by how easily his fingers moved through your folds.

Neteyam brought his fingers to his mouth and cleaned them off in a slow, smacking suck. He groaned quietly and nodded his head at his brother.

It was a signal that Lo’ak understood without words. Standing behind you, he crouched to slide his hands down your thighs, before gripping you behind both knees and suddenly lifting you, folding you in half with your thighs splayed wide. He sat down on the edge of the bed then and hooked each of your knees over his, leaving your bottom dangling down between his shins.

You gave a startled cry at the change in position. It was a new position to you too. You were facing your reflection in the mirror and the wanton young woman who stared back at you tonight was a far cry from the sobbing mess you’d been most nights in the last while. Your folded body was hanging in what could only be described as a deep squat, your arms and knees hooked over Lo’ak’s splayed thighs to keep you suspended just above the floor. You were nimble though and the position was oddly comfortable despite how it looked.

The position left you helpless and completely exposed, but judging by the hungry expression that both brothers were sporting, it was exactly what they wanted.

Neteyam situated himself in front of you, stretching out on his front and balancing the weight of his upper body on his elbows. His face was parallel with where he wanted to ravish you, but before he indulged, his gaze flicked up to meet yours and he checked in with you gently, “You comfortable there?”

You nodded and your answer was quiet, “Yeah, I’m good.”

This was the sweet side of him, you mused. It was the side of him that you loved most, and it was the side that you hadn’t seen in a while. Your interactions since the night at the hot spring had been awkward and then they’d dwindled to become few and far between as you both avoided each other. Your work day conversations were kept to a minimum and whenever you had spoken, he’d been clipped and guarded. You’d missed seeing this sweet side of Neteyam…

Although, it was also this tender side of him that had made you run in the first place…

The corner of Neteyam’s lips quirked upward in a small smile and he scooted forward to cup your bottom, helping to support your weight as he lowered his lips to your waiting core. He kissed your folds then, languidly, his lips and tongue stroking and sweeping over your flesh as if he was kissing you on your mouth instead. Your breath stuttered and the muscles in your thighs tightened at the delicious sensation.

Your reflection was a sensually gratuitous picture. Your eyes were hooded and your cheeks and chest were flushed a deeper hue of violet. Neteyam’s head bobbed and shifted between your thighs where he pleasured you, and you could see that Lo’ak was enjoying the show. He had his cock in hand and the slippery length of it was disappearing in and out of his tight grasp whilst he stroked himself.

You were entirely at Neteyam’s mercy in this position. You couldn’t move or grind your hips against him. He had complete control of the situation and all you could do was squirm and whine his name while he worked. He was suckling intently at your clit now, your pussy throbbing with the rhythm of your pleasure.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like that.” Lo’ak groaned, watching you through the mirror, “You want to cum so bad, don’t you?”

Neteyam’s fingers were digging into your hips where he held you and you canted your hips as much as you could against his face, “Y-Yes, but I need more-”

With a small pop, Neteyam released his hold on you and you gasped at the sudden lack of stimulation. His grin was a dirty one and he clucked at you as he shifted to sit upright, “So impatient. We’re going to take our time with you tonight.”

Lo’ak chortled in agreement and he reached over to pass two toys over to his brother, “One last hurrah, right? Gotta savour it.”

“You taste like nectar, paskalin. So sweet and so soft.” Neteyam crooned, toying with something in his right hand.

You glanced downward and you recognised the glass butt plug he was holding. They’d used it on you in the past. It was good size, neither too big nor too small. It was just big enough to give you a feeling of fullness in a place you’d never explored in this way before the brothers, and you certainly never expected it to feel as good as it had.

Neteyam ran the cool surface of the plug against your pussy, lubricating it with your copious moisture. He teased you deliberately, letting the glass bulb of it slip into your pussy a few times, causing a mix of curses to tumble from your lips. He smoothed his thumb over your butthole with his other hand, slowly letting the digit work its way past the tightness of the outer ring of muscle at its entrance. You were chanting his name under your breath like a prayer now, eager for him to insert the plug.

Lo’ak’s own breathing was laboured and he stifled a few curses of his own, slowing down his palming of his cock, “Shit Neteyam, just give it to her already.”

“Losing your control?” Neteyam goaded with a sneer, “It’s alright. You can blow your load. You don’t need to fuck her tonight. I’m happy to do all the honours.”

“Not a chance, bro. I’m not missing out.”

Your pussy squeezed hard at Neteyam’s display of possessiveness. It was so fucked up, especially given the circumstances, how your body thrilled to know that he wanted you for himself. It was so fucked up also on another count that you were excited by the idea of his sexual possession, but his emotional possession had sent you running for the hills. But you knew it was only because you’d end up hurt, you both would… If there was a way that you could have him as more than a playmate, perhaps as a potential mate for life, you’d have drowned happily in his tender affections.

The sore turn of your thoughts was halted when you felt Neteyam press the glass bulb of the plug against your butthole. The feeling of the pressing stretch as he worked it into you cleared your mind and you were forced to breathe through the slightly uncomfortable sensation.

“Relax for me, good girl.” Neteyam murmured, his free hand rubbing gentle circles over your clit.

With a quick slip and clench, your body accepted the plug, seating it into its intended position inside your rear. The discomfort of its initial entry faded and was replaced by a gratifying sense of fullness. The plug was weighted and the slight heaviness of it was a wonderful addition. You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling and you heard the familiar click and whirr of another toy coming to life in Neteyam’s hands.

“You take that plug so well, sweet thing.” Lo’ak praised, leaning down to pepper the side of your face with a few kisses, “I love watching it pulse as you enjoy your pleasure. You going to put on a show for us tonight?”

Your response was a skreich of pleasure when Neteyam parted your folds to settle the clit sucker over your little nub. Your clit was already so sensitive and swollen from his earlier suckling. The toy’s intense and pulsing suction formed a seal around it immediately, throwing you straight onto the racetrack towards a powerful orgasm. Your pelvic muscles quickly settled into a thumping tempo, your inner walls contracting and releasing with bliss, making the glass plug physically jump where it was seated in your ass.

Cracking open your eyes you spied yourself in the mirror, splayed open as you were before with a clit sucker held against you while your pussy and ass visibly pulsated. Your slick was trickling out of you and down your rear with each squeeze of your core. It was a horribly obscene yet incredibly arousing image that you were sure would make any heterosexual man salivate. Your mouth was slack as you mewled and cried out, and sure enough, you discovered both brothers were furiously working their cocks while they watched; Lo’ak seated on the bed above you and Neteyam sitting on his heels beside you.

With another audible click, you felt it when Neteyam turned the intensity of the clit sucker up a couple of levels and within moments your first orgasm crashed into you. A hoarse cry left you as your torso and thigh muscles went rigid, your entire core bursting with bliss. There were mutual groans coming from both Neteyam and Lo’ak too, but in the height of your pleasure, the noise sounded muffled and far away.

“Fuck, Neyomi. I need you right now.” Lo’ak ground out through gritted teeth, “I want to feel your pussy squeeze around me like that when you cum.”

There was commotion as Lo’ak pulled you upward from where you dangled between his legs. He settled you on your side on the plush bedding. Your legs tingled numbly and they felt like they were no longer solid.

“Do you think you can get onto your hands and knees for me, sweet thing?” Lo’ak urged, steadying you as you made an attempt to roll onto your knees. He caught sight of the thunder on his older brother’s face then and he rolled his eyes, peeved, “Sharing is caring, bro. I can’t fucking wait anymore.”

“Don’t be too long. And don’t-”

“Yes, yes I know! Don’t cum inside her.” Lo’ak waved Neteyam off irascibly, “I know the drill.”

Manoeuvring onto all fours, you found, to your relief, that your limbs were fairly stable. Your legs were still tingling, but the numbness had disappeared now and you could hold yourself up just fine. You felt Lo’ak mount you from behind and he gave the butt plug a teasing tug while he lined his cock up with your entrance. Eager to be penetrated, you lowered yourself onto your elbows with your rump high in the air.

Lo’ak didn’t waste a moment more. He ran the head of his cock over your folds once and then plunged into your wet heat with a brutal thrust of his hips. His cock easily slid to its hilt with how slick you were and a harsh groan was his reaction to the feel of your walls enveloping his length. Gripping your hips, he drew his hips back and thrust in again, earning him a guttural cry from you.

Neteyam leaned against the wall on the adjacent side, facing you so he could watch your face dance with your many expressions of pleasure. Lo’ak was less patient than he was and Neteyam wanted to be the last to have you so he could take his time. He tried his best to focus on you instead of the fact that his brother was fucking you. It was an exercise he was used to by now, given that this was always the order of things when you’d visited the shack. Not that sharing you had become any easier the more you’d visited the shack…

Neteyam was impatient tonight though. He hadn’t had you in weeks and things had been strained. Though he hoped otherwise, tonight was quite possibly the last time he’d ever have you. Especially if you were going to try and work things out with Kai… He had promised you earlier that he would back off. If Kai was truly who you wanted, then Neteyam wouldn’t stand in the way. His heart thumped painfully in his chest at the thought.

If tonight was to be the last time he could have you like this, then he was going to make the most of it. He was going to try to steal a kiss from you tonight by hook or by crook.

Through the jarring smack of Lo’ak’s hips against yours, you saw Neteyam watching moodily from against the wall. He had his arms crossed over his chest, but his cock was still hard and standing at attention, jutting out from his narrow hips. A thin string of pre-cum was dangling from its thick head and your mouth watered, wanting to lick it away and taste it. Lo’ak had set a steady pace and one of his hands was skilfully working at your clit while he thrusted. You could feel your second orgasm building gradually, but you were still distracted by the sight of Neteyam’s cock.

Unable to speak because your breath was being forcefully pushed from you with each of Lo’ak’s thrusts, you caught Neteyam’s eye and extended a hand out towards him. You curled your fingers, wordlessly beckoning him to come towards you where you were positioned on your hands and knees at the edge of the bed. He seemed to catch your drift and he pushed off the wall to stalk towards you.

Once he was within reach, your encircled his erection with one hand and tugged him closer until his knees were flush against the bed. A particularly hard thrust caused you to lose your balance and you let go of him, palm slamming flat against to the bedding again to steady yourself. Your mouth had been open though and your intention had been clear enough to Neteyam. He grinned and guided his cock to your lips, which parted again to receive him.

“Oh paskalin,” Neteyam’s breath rushed from him as your mouth engulfed him with moist, tight suction.

You couldn’t take him all the way in your position without the risk of choking and hurting yourself due to Lo’ak’s thrusting, but you could take him half way. You sucked in your cheeks and swirled your tongue over the tip of him, enjoying the salty-sweet taste of his pre-cum. You didn’t even need to bob your head, courtesy of Lo’aks jolting thrusts.

The sight of you spit-roasted on two cocks between him and his brother was enough to almost make Neteyam lose his control. He closed his eyes, willing his throbbing cock to just teeter on the edge of bliss without spilling. He burned the image of you into his memories; the way your lips stretched over his thick girth; the way you whimpered as your body jerked while you were being railed; the way your eyes watered a little every time a hard thrust made his cock head hit the back of your throat.

Lo’ak’s intermittent groans were becoming more frequent now and his pants were getting harsher. You knew you were close too with how your pussy seemed to be trying to swallow more of him with each pulsating throb. The consistent rub of his fingers over your swollen nub made your core burn with impending ecstasy, your climax so close yet not quite within reach. But you knew what would send you over the edge, you knew whose eyes you wanted to lose yourself in as you came.

Neteyam’s thumbs stroked at your cheeks encouragingly and you pulled your head back as far as you could so you could catch his eyes. A pleasure-filled frown was twisting his handsome face and the moment his piercing golden orbs locked with your green irises, your second climax shattered you. Your pussy clenched down hard and you heard Lo’ak emit a gravelly shout.

Lo’ak had never felt anything as intense. He was supposed to withdraw and spill outside you, but your orgasm triggered his own like a sudden and hot strike of lightning at the base of his spine. Your inner muscles had clamped down on his cock, his own climax merciless as he felt himself ejaculate. He hadn’t had time and he couldn’t help it. Instead of pulling out, his primal instincts overwhelmed him and forced his hips to stay pressed against your rump while he spilled.

An unrestrained string of curse words left Lo’ak as he withdrew afterward, collapsing onto his side in a heap of heaving breaths. Neteyam’s displeasure was immediate and a harsh growl filled the air. He pulled his cock free of your mouth and he would’ve rounded on his younger brother if not for your hand, which had caught him around one wrist.

“I’m sorry! I couldn’t stop it!” Lo’ak exclaimed, dragging a hand down his face and pawing at his eyes, “I lost control, alright? I didn’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s OK.” You placated, tugging on Neteyam’s wrist. His expression was still marred by a snarl and you gingerly rose onto your knees to smooth a soothing palm over his chest, “Calm down. It’s my body and I’m OK with it.”

Neteyam wanted to tell you that he didn’t care that you were alright with it. He wasn’t alright with it. He wanted to be the only brother in that space to have you that way, and Lo’ak knew that. His brother was more than aware of what it meant to him to be the sole bearer of that privilege.

“I swear it was an accident, bro.” Lo’ak mumbled tamely.

You saw Neteyam shoot an unimpressed glower at his brother and you caressed his cheek, drawing his attention back to you, “Come on, put your hands on me. How do you want me? Facing you or from behind?” You took his hands and placed them over your breasts, loving the feel of his rough palms against your nipples.

A peculiar sense of déjà vu washed over Neteyam at your question and he realised it was the same question he’d asked you on your very first visit to the shack: Do you want me to take you from behind or do you want me to face you?...

It was a poignant moment for him and he echoed your original answer from that first night back to you, never feeling the truth of them more than he did in that instant, “I want to kiss you.”

Your eyes softened and he saw sadness cloud your irises. You remembered too.

Your soft fingers stroked Neteyam’s jaw and you murmured despondently, “You can kiss me everywhere. Anywhere but here.” The fingers of your free hand touched your own lips and you kissed them, before pressing those fingers to his lips.

Neteyam’s eyes were aggrieved, but he toppled you onto the bed anyway and covered your body with his. It seemed he’d taken your answer seriously as he began to leave a trail of hot open-mouthed kisses down your body: from your cheeks, down your neck, your collarbone, your breasts, your navel and lower. Your skin prickled in heated anticipation; your arousal still high despite your first two climaxes. Neteyam seemed to have that effect on you. Your body would always respond to his and it could keep going.

Neteyam reached for the last toy that they hadn’t yet used tonight. The wand vibrator.

Parting your azure thighs, he found the butt plug still nestled neatly in your rear and your core glistened with your slick and the pearlescent remains of his brother’s cum. The reminder of Lo’ak’s mistake annoyed him, but he had to admit that the vision of the sticky mess smeared over your pussy was very arousing.

The wand came to life with a low whirr and he ran it gently over your luscious folds. You jumped with a moan, the intense and rumbling vibrations of the toy stimulating every last nerve ending between your thighs. Your pussy pulsed and the butt plug jumped with the flex and lax of your pelvic muscles. Lo’ak had recovered from his earlier orgasm and had quietly rejoined to play. He busied himself with your breasts, letting his tongue rasp over their sensitive peaks while his fingers fondled and squeezed.

“Come on, paskalin, you know what the aim of the game is.” Neteyam purred, focusing the head of the wand on your clit while two of his fingers curled inside your pussy to find your g-spot.

“Ohhh Eywa!” You squealed, thighs quaking and tail curling under as Neteyam’s fingers found their target swiftly and efficiently.

All it took was for him to apply pressure with his curling strokes and your body skyrocketed to the precipice again. The pleasure was so intense with the wand that chills raced their way across the expanse of your skin. The burning pressure built and built in your lower belly. Your clit throbbed under the wand’s unforgiving assault, and combined with the full feeling of the plug still in your bottom, you hurtled over the precipice for a third time with a scream. Your entire frame seized and you pushed through the euphoric blow of your orgasm, releasing the pressure with a wet squirt that you knew was inevitable the moment Neteyam had laid his hands on you.

You began to writhe in discomfort, your body oversensitive now and uncomfortable. Neteyam’s fingers left you, but the wand remained over your swollen and stinging clit. You tried to squirm away from it, reaching down with your hands, only for Lo’ak to stop you, “Nuh uh, we’re not done, sweet thing. Use your safeword if you need it. Otherwise, you’re going to have to ride the overstimulation out.”

“W-Wait, no!” You wriggled and twisted, the stimulation almost too much and yet it was still so incredibly good.

“Use your safeword, Neyomi.” Lo’ak reminded.

When your safeword didn’t leave your lips, Neteyam positioned his hips at your parted thighs, still holding the wand in place with one hand. He added, “One last hurrah, and we’re going to make it worth your while.” Aligning himself with your pussy, he pushed his thick cock inside you.

The speed of his penetration had been slow and steady, but you felt every single bit of him; from the swollen head of his cock to each raised ridge on his shaft. You felt as if you were melting around him, as if your body was moulding itself perfectly to his. It was absolute paradise.

The triple stimulation you were experiencing was devastatingly good. You could feel the girth of his cock grinding against the butt plug through your inner walls as he thrusted with each roll of his hips. Your mind was blissfully clear as your pleasure heightened again another notch, every single cell of your being focused on the never-ending rapture that appeared to have consumed you whole. You didn’t even know if you were climaxing or not because it just seemed to carry on.

When another pulsing squirt gushed from you, Neteyam abandoned the wand and pinned you beneath him in full missionary position. There was only a moment’s reprieve from the assault of pleasure while Neteyam repositioned himself before he hips began their relentless onslaught again. You clung on for dear life, your ankles crossed behind his back, your arms looped about his ribs, nails raking his skin.

Burying his face against the side of yours, Neteyam ground out his assertions, “This might be your last night here, paskalin, but you’ll never forget this. You’ll never forget us and how we made you feel.”

“Y-Yes…” Your answer was a shaky whisper.

“We’re going to have all of you tonight, you hear me?” Neteyam continued, and it was testament to his athletic strength and stamina that he could keep up whisper to you while maintaining the speedy canting of his hips, “I’m going to cum so deep inside you and when I’m done, my brother and I are both going to take you at the same time.”

Beads of wetness seeped from the corners of your eyes to run into your braided hair and you realised you were crying. Whether from overstimulation, from the filthy promise of Neteyam’s words, or from the looming reminder that you were going to be an emotional wreck tomorrow, you weren’t sure.

You hiccupped softly and Neteyam pressed a kiss to your wet cheek. He couldn’t hide the tinge of concern in his tone, “Those better be tears of joy. You know what to do if it gets too much.”

You shook your head, clutching on even tighter to him as what felt like another tidal wave of pleasure began cresting towards you. Your body tightened around his, your core squeezing around his cock in preparation to milk him dry. The tidal wave curled and crashed in the next moment and you screamed his name, your pussy squeezing and squirting so hard that the butt plug was ejected from your bottom by your pelvic muscles.

Neteyam roared his climax into the plush bedding by your head. Your pussy contracted and pulsed in time with the spurting of his cock, and he could feel the warm heat of his cum filling you. Great Mother, he never wanted to be without you like this… Everything about you was good and right… Instinctively, not wanting to suffocate you with his dead weight, he rolled off you to rest on his side.

Your hitching breaths were a staccato harmony to his ragged breathing. Everything on your body was buzzing with oversensitivity. Your nipples tingled uncomfortably and you felt feverishly hot between your legs. Your skin felt too tight all over you and your nose was a little stuffy from mucus. However, if you thought you were going to be able to lie there for a bit, you were wrong.

Neteyam called out to Lo’ak, who was reclined on your other side, “Roll her over onto you, bro, gently.”

You blinked teary eyes at Lo’ak as he scooted closer to you. He stroked your forehead and your cheeks, wiping away the sticky tears that rolled down your face, “Shh, one last thing ok, sweet thing? One last thing and then we’ll take care of you and you can sleep.”

Taking your upper arm, Lo’ak pulled your upper body over his, before hooking his palm behind your knee to haul the rest of you over him. You were lying front to front with him and he settled your cheek against his shoulder and collarbone. You instinctively curled against him, tucking your arms against his ribs and tucking your knees up under you by his hips. Unbeknownst to you, it was exactly the position they wanted you in.

You’d heard other women speak of the term ‘fucked dumb’ before, and you’d merely thought they were joking or exaggerating. But you understood it now. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess and coherent words were far from your lips.

“No one will ever make you feel this way again,” Lo’ak murmured to you, and you felt him shift your bottom over his pelvis. It didn’t surprise you anymore that his cock was erect again. Both brothers appeared to be at the height of their virility currently. Two rounds was no issue, some nights even three.

You felt like putty and allowed Lo’ak to guide himself into your silky heat once more. In your position, your body sank onto his cock easily and you whimpered again at the girthy stretch of him. Lo’ak chuckled, “Now for the good part.”

The bedding dipped a little on either side of you and Lo’ak when Neteyam came to position himself behind you. He was straddling your hips in a crouch and you felt him bring your tail over one of his shoulders. His earlier words rang in your ears and you understood what he was about to do… My brother and I are both going to take you at the same time…

Neteyam ran his thumb over your puckered butthole. Between your slick and his cum, there was plenty of lubrication available for what he intended. He caressed one round of your pert bottom and pulled the flesh aside a little, “I said I wanted to have all of you, Neyomi.”

An audible gasp left you as the blunt head of Neteyam’s cock pressed at your rear entrance. He said nothing to reassure you, but his touch was gentle and cautious. He pushed further and you felt your body resist the girth of him. You breathed deeply, fighting to relax the muscles like they’d taught you when you’d first been introduced to the butt plugs. Slowly but surely, your body accepted him and he slid into your bottom with a tight groan that was echoed by both yourself as well as Lo’ak.

The fullness was exquisite. The three of you remained still, just getting used to the sensation and enjoying the initial wonder of something new.

Balancing on the balls of his feet while he straddled you, Neteyam’s voice was an indulgent purr, “You feel fucking amazing.”

Lo’ak began to move first, just a slow and shallow rock of his hips and it amazed you that Neteyam synced in with him almost immediately in the opposite direction. When one brother pulled outward, the other pushed inward, their cocks slipping in and out of you in coordinated tandem.

The dual stimulation was definitely overwhelming. You were quite literally stuffed full of them both and it was an incredibly intimate position. Neither of them were thrusting particularly deeply, both just rocking their hips with you sandwiched between their bodies. It was slow and sweet, and it felt strangely like making tender love with two people at once.

It was the most tender that either of them had been with you all night. There was just one thing missing that would make things perfect; one crucial thing that would see you violate the very boundary that you had set for yourself if you did it. A kiss.

Tonight was your last night with Neteyam and Lo’ak, it had to be. From tomorrow, you’d have to put all of this behind you, keep it locked away in the deepest recesses of your mind. Forget about Lo’ak. Forget about Neteyam. Try to work things out with Kai and move on with your life.

The reckless part of you offered up the idea of crossing your boundary again. It was your last night here and look at all you’d done with them tonight already. Surely crossing that line couldn’t hurt that much more, right? What was one last kiss in light of everything you’d done tonight?

Your heart trilled with contentment at the thought. You would remember their bodies and remember the touch of their hands; remember their scents and remember their voices as they teased you and praised you. You resolved to share one last kiss with each of them, so you would also remember the feel of their lips against yours too.

You raised your chin to look at the brother closest to you. Lo’ak raised a brow at you and a corner of his lips quirked upward in a small smile. With shaky breaths you eyed the cupid’s bow of his upper lip. One last kiss from each of them Neyomi, and then tomorrow it’s back to reality… Carefully, you leaned downward and gently slanted your lips over his.

Abruptly, the tender and serene mood was splintered by an ireful hiss from Neteyam. You jumped, pulling back from Lo’ak to see him regarding you with a confused expression, the furrow between his brows knitting deeper with every passing moment. The gentle rocking of your bodies ceased and you cried out as Neteyam swiftly withdrew himself from your body in a jarring tug.

Everything happened so quickly and the last thing you perceived, as you craned your head backward, was Neteyam’s frame storming angrily from the shack.

Lo’ak moved beneath you, taking you by your hips to roll you gently onto your side again. You could see your own confusion mirrored back at you through his amber irises. Your body buzzed still from the aftermath of your pleasure and your brain was a foggy muddle.

“What just happened?” You asked meekly.

Lo’ak scoffed and shook his head at you, appearing equally bewildered and upset, “I could ask you the same thing. What the fuck are you playing at?”

***~~~*** Part V - The Fault Is Ours now HERE

Author's Note:

Gaaaah another cliffhanger!! 🫣 Spill your thoughts and all your messy emotions to me, my bebes! Neteyam is such a stubborn ass, right? And oh that unwitting mistake that Neyomi made at the end... 🥲

I hope this made your heart squeeze as well as other places... Thanks for reading. I love each and everyone of you that supports me. Comments, reblogs and likes are all very much appreciated! 😘

Taglist note: There are so many of you who've asked to be tagged that I've exceed the tag limit. So if you haven't been tagged in the body of this post, I haven't forgotten you! I've probably tagged you in another post that links you back to this one. 💖

Taglist:

@teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair  @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt

[dfortrafalgar]

Special Delivery

(Sanji x Fem!Reader- Offscreen)

Sanji reaches out to Zeff for the first time in years.

I wrote this many, many months ago now, and it was the first fic i posted anonymously on AO3. I got a few requests after it was originally posted to write a second part, which I eventually did!

You can read Part 2 here! Original AO3 link

(I figured I should let my blog breathe a little in between the really heavy and emotional Law fic im writing, and what better way to cool down than some sanji fluff <3)

A sharp squawk awoke Red-Leg Zeff from his daze. With a grumpy expression and a low grunt, he peered towards the direction of the sound.

A messenger coo was seated on the railing of the Baratie's upper deck next to where Zeff stood slouched over with his forearms leaning against the wooden support. It cocked its head to the side as if it was deconstructing Zeff's appearance before reaching into its pouch and procuring a parchment envelope. Zeff found it strange. Messenger coos only usually delivered the newspapers or the latest bounty reports, very rarely were they put in charge of personalized letters. It must have been paid off by whoever wanted this delivered.

The gruff man took the parchment from the beak of the bird and watched as it took back off into the air, leaving a few molted white feathers behind in its wake. He looked at the envelope.

All it said on the front, in very elegant handwriting, was "Captain Zeff." He flipped the paper around, revealing a wax stamp holding the opening down, which he peeled off with a calloused thumb.

Tucked neatly inside the envelope was a white piece of paper, tri-folded over itself. Zeff slipped the paper out, unfolding it to reveal the written contents of the letter. The penmanship was impeccable, and the ink was very sleek. He knew immediately it was from Sanji, not many other pirates had handwriting as good as his. He had completely lost track of how many years it had been since the curly-browed boy left with that ragtag group of pirates to sail to the Grand Line, but Zeff had every single one of his bounty posters. He'd never admit it, but they were tacked up on the wall of his sleeping quarters. Every time Sanji's bounty increased, Zeff felt pride swell in his heart.

"How are you doing, you old geezer. It's been a little too long since we've had any contact, so I thought I'd write to you just to see how you've been. You're no slouch, I'm sure you've been keeping up with the world's events over the past however-many years. Do the Marines even bother to keep sending our bounty posters to the Baratie anymore? Well, regardless, I'm sure you can read right through me. I can't deny it, I miss you, old man. I'm happier than I've ever been in my life, and such a huge part of that is thanks to you and the guys back on that old cruiser. Every recipe I try to make, I imagine you screaming in my ear and telling me that it tastes like shit. Some days I really wish I could be back there, but most of the time I'm joyful. Life has been really, really good. A few years ago, I met someone. Last year, we got married, and soon after our lives changed so drastically. She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on, and she's as sweet as an angel. I mean it, too. I know you'd probably think something along the lines of me playing up my affections again just because she's a pretty woman, but I mean it. You'd love her, Zeff. Living as a pirate is the most stressful thing anyone could ever do, but she makes every day worth it. The crew was discussing the possibility of returning to the East Blue a bit ago, and when we do, I'm going to introduce you to her. I've spent the last years talking all about you, how you taught me everything I know about cooking, and I can tell she's just as excited as I am to finally see you. This letter's gone on long enough and I don't want to use up all of Nami's paper.

-- Sanji"

Zeff felt a lump in the back of his throat. Sanji had grown into such a fine young man, eloquent with his words and his feelings. He knew how big of a deal it was for the boy to be so honest and open. But one thing in the letter caught him off guard. What did he mean by, "Soon after our lives changed drastically."?

Zeff peered into the envelope, where another, smaller envelope was tucked inside. He almost didn't see it. Pulling it out, he held the letter and original envelope in between his fingers while he opened the second. Sanji was thorough with his packaging, that's for sure.

Inside, there were three photographs printed on thin, matted paper. The first was of Sanji and you, the wife he wrote about in his letter, taken by someone else holding the camera. Sanji had his arm around you, holding you against him, and you had your face nuzzled into his neck. His other hand held a cigarette away from the two of you, like he was in the middle of telling a story. The two of you were smiling brighter than the sun, Sanji's eyes completely closed with the motion of laughter, and yours creased, your irises looking up towards him.

The second photo made Zeff's eyes water. A photo of you and Sanji on the deck of the Sunny, exchanging rings. Sanji was wearing a sleek navy blue tuxedo, while you were wearing a gorgeous white ballgown. For pirates, you cleaned up phenomenally. He could just make out tears in Sanji's eyes as the photo displayed you sliding a band onto his finger. A skeleton with poofy hair stood between the two of you, which Zeff found a little odd, but he chuckled at the absurdity of it all.

Zeff flipped to the last photo.

The tears that were welling in his eyes from the previous image finally slid down his cheeks in heavy, salty droplets. His lip quivered.

Sanji sat in a chair, beaming down at a bundle of cloth held gently in his arm. He was crying in this photo as well, and was reaching a finger over the top of the bundle, where a smaller hand was reaching outwards to grab onto it. A small glimpse of blonde hair could be made out from under the cloth securing the baby tightly. On the back of the film, Sanji wrote the birth date and the name of the baby.

Zeff used a sleeve to wipe his blubbering eyes. His lips quivered, but he couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face.

Was he allowed to call himself a grandfather now? He figured it was only appropriate.

[https-yeonjun]

yours. (h.kk)

wc. 1300

genre. smut

tags. kai x fem!reader, established relationship, jealous and possessive reader, kind of manipulative reader but not to kai, messy making out, unprotected sex, sub!kai, simp!kai, kai who loves his gf, strength kink (if you squint lol) just two people desperately and madly in love with each other idk what else to tell you

a/n. MINORS DNI!!!! i've been wanting to write for kai for so long omg, this is finally it. please go easy on me this is one of the first things i've written in a while so i'm not super proud of it. (i’m pretty sure there are no gendered pronouns/language but i just put fem reader to be safe)

more of my work

kai knows how it goes every time.

the two of you are at a party that you brought him to, but instead of socializing with your friends like you usually do, you are standing in a corner in the kitchen, sulking as your boyfriend laughs at whatever story they are sharing with him.

you were fine when the two of you walked into the doors but then all of a sudden, something ticked you off and now your arms are folded close to your chest, opening up only so you can sip from the can of hard seltzer that you hold.

it always starts out this way.

phase two commences when he slips away to meet you. he teases you. he playfully asks why you’re in the corner by yourself. he takes your drink out of your hand and places it on the counter behind you. he cups your face to give you a peck on your forehead. you roll your eyes and you reluctantly give him your hands when he flashes you his unbearably charming smile. and he knows that you can’t say no to him when he drags you back to meet your friends.

next, he wants to reassure you and make sure that you’re okay so he’s all over you when the two of you rejoin the circle. you’re enveloped by his large frame, the smell of his cologne lingers around you, and every so often, his lips gently find their home around your face — on your forehead, on your cheeks, on the bridge of your nose, on your glossy lips.

then something happens — and this part is really important.

someone always makes a comment about the two of you. and it always happens to be the same person. ugh, you guys are so cute. they quip. i wish i had a relationship like that. you’re not sure why, but everytime they do this, it always bothers you. maybe it’s their tone, or the way they cock their head to the side at the end of the sentence, that bothers you so much. maybe it’s the smile they give you after that is laced with so much venom that no one else seems to notice. or maybe it’s the fact that apparently no one knows how they weaseled their way into your friend group but since they made their appearance, they have made it a point to make you feel so uncomfortable every time you see them.

regardless, kai always looks forward to this part of the evening, especially when you sigh, give your fakest smile, and say thank you, dragging out the last vowel. you caress his arm and kiss his cheek, snuggling closer to him for the next ten minutes. and once your mental timer goes off, you let out the most practiced and performed yawn. i think we’re going to call it a night, you announce to your friends.

you say your goodbyes and you walk out hand in hand with your boyfriend. he opens the door for you when you get to the car, and now you can drop the pretense.

he can tell that you’re upset. not with him though, you’re never upset with him.

you don’t talk for the entire car ride home. the only sounds are the gentle hum of the car engine and the low indie music that graces the radio.

when you get home, however, the flip switches.

they make me so mad, baby, you don’t even understand. you begin, kicking off your shoes at the door. kai trails behind you, picking up your shoes, rubbing your back, trying to soothe you.

and the way they look at you, you groan at the thought. you turn around to look at your boyfriend. you’re mine, you lean up to kiss him. he hums into the kiss but you pull away.

i need you to say it to me— you’re mine. you repeat again and he repeats after you, almost like you have trained him to follow your every command.

this is the moment he was waiting for all night — when you decide to take your anger out on him.

he drops all the things in his hands and you drag him upstairs to your bedroom. somewhere along the way he rids himself of his clothes so when you push him onto the bed, he is just in his boxers. you kiss him more passionately, with more force. his eyes roll back in pleasure as you kiss down to this chest, leaving bite marks along the way.

you so badly want to be mean to him, tease him, maybe even force him to cum in his underwear. kai loves how selfish you get when it comes to your pleasure. you grind against him only thinking about getting yourself off. but when you sit up to look at him, you remember that you’re not mad at him. you could never be mad at him, not when he gives himself up to you so readily.

you especially love how dazed and pretty he looks when you ride him. your hips roll against his so perfectly and he feels like he’s floating. he needs to dig his nails into your skin to ground himself, to remind himself that this is real — that you are real and that you are his and that he is yours.

you lean down to kiss him, softly cupping his face. he relaxes his hands, sliding them around your waist and pulling you closer to him. the soft kiss deepens when he starts desperately sucking on your tongue. he is so messy as he moans into your mouth. his lips trail away from your mouth, peppering open mouthed kisses around the lower part of your face, sucking along your jawline.

you try to change angles and bounce harder, but he pulls you back down despite your groans as you push yourself up. he’s quick to apologize though: i’m sorry, i’m sorry i-i just he breathes out. i love you. he repeats like a prayer and he grinds up against you.

but just as he is desperate for you, so are you for him. you fervently roll your hips into his. you hide your face in the crook of his neck, biting down on his collarbone as you edge yourself.

as if it is possible for the two of you to be any closer, when your hips begin to stutter, kai holds you closer to his body. it’s okay, i got you. he assures you as he digs his nails into your skin. he thrusts up sloppily and his moans fill the room.

please, please let me cum. let me make a mess out of you. you can’t say no to his pleas but the feeling of euphoria fills your body as you inch closer to your orgasm. the only thing you can do is choke out a weak, yes, please.

his eyes cloud over and your eyes flutter close when you feel his hips stutter just as a string of curses escapes his lips. he pumps his load deep inside you, spurts of cum coat your throbbing pussy, feeling especially warm against your sweaty skin.

he gives you both a moment to calm down before rolling you onto your back. you lean over to him to leave tender kisses all over his face, whispering i love you’s.

he pulls away to meet a pout on your face. where are you going? you ask him.

i wanna clean you up. he proceeds to stand up no, no, no, you protest, pulling him back down to the bed to lay next to you. forget about that; just stay here for a moment. you hold him close to you and you end the night telling him how good he is to you.

taglist: @dearlyjun @atinyniki @boba-beom @wolfytae-exe @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tinyelfperson @wccycc @ryunjin0 @thejadeazalea @wayvisyummy @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @snghoonluv @itzzz-yerin @ujisworld

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[writerpetals]

just like the movies | 🔞

; optional male lead smut |  ☁️

// it's here it's here! the first thing i've written in SO long so I hope it brings you some entertainment hehe i decided to go with a sweet, silly fluffy single parent au smut for this one to get me back in the swing of things! i'm also going to try to queue some stuff for the week until i get to write more this weekend (i have a 4 day weekend this week so yay! writing time! this is why i love my job, i only work 3 12 hr days, then 4, then 3, switching every week haha) thank you for all the support! <333

Settling down into the scratchy polyester seat of the concert venue, you look over at the excitement on your daughter’s face. Ava can’t contain the wide smile and bubbling anticipation of seeing her very first concert, with her favorite band in the world. She twists one of her braids around her little finger before pushing her glasses up a little farther on her nose.

“I swear if Asher looks at me I’ll die!” she exclaims, bouncing in her seat just a few minutes before the show is scheduled to begin.

Your ten-year-old daughter might be getting way ahead of herself for her age considering her favorite boy band, including her favorite member, is years older than her, but who are you to dim her excitement? You were a fangirl once, too. Even if boy bands aren’t your thing anymore since you’ve grown up, one thing you do love is seeing Ava happy, as well as spending a fun night in town doing whatever you can to spend time with her.

“I hope so,” you say to her, smiling. She giggles and pulls out your cell phone she borrowed for the night to take a few pictures of the two of you.

As you’re smiling and posing in your selfies, the seat next to you shifts a little with the weight of someone sitting down. Within the view of the phone screen as Ava snaps away, you notice the man now sitting on the other side of you, whispering something to his just as excited daughter.

Or, you assume it’s his daughter at first, and the assumption is confirmed when she squeaks her thank you to him for bringing her to see her favorite band, and calling him the best dad ever!

Your smile widens a little at that. You’re not the only parent tagging along just so your daughter can have a fun, memorable night. Your heart melts a little, guessing the last place he wants to be is seeing a group of teen boys singing and dancing, but he’s here for her.

You only wish Ava’s father could be so attentive to her. You don’t want to cloud the night with bad thoughts and memories, but you can’t help to have flashbacks of all the ways her mostly absent father failed her when you see another showing up for their daughter. Envy, guilt, and the what-if’s hit you hard, wondering what you could have done differently to make a difference with your own family before it fell apart. 

The bad thoughts quickly fade once the speakers start blasting the band’s latest hit while showing pictures of the boys on a huge screen ahead. Ava jumps up and screams. So does the girl sitting two seats to your left, as well as most of the attendees around you. You decide to stay seated, knowing you’re taller than most of the little girls around you, not wanting to block anyone’s view.

The grinning dad next to you does the same, remaining seated as he watches his daughter’s excitement. 

“First Dreamwave Boys concert?” you ask him with a grin, leaning over a little so he can hear you over the singing. He turns to you, looking a little surprised that another parent is sitting next to him for the night. He smiles wide, and you can’t help but to finally notice how handsome the man is. His smile is charming and his eyes are warm and inviting. 

“First timer, here,” he jokes with a chuckle, and his voice is smooth like honey, earning a little heated flush to your cheeks. “How about you?”

“First time here, too.” He smiles wider at your answer. “Ava just loves Asher, so I had to splurge on tickets.”

“My little Jayda here loves Noah so much that I love Noah by association. Never knew I’d know everything about some teenage boy band member down to their birthday and zodiac sign, but here we are.” A genuine laugh loudly escapes your lips, so he continues with a big smile. “Noah is a pisces, by the way. Highly creative and compassionate.”

You can’t stop your giggles as the arena full of singing girls drowns out around you. At least you would enjoy the company tonight while your daughter got lost in her own little world. As your laughter settles, you tell your concert buddy for the night your name, as he does the same. Butterflies flood your stomach when he takes your hand in a gentle, friendly shake of introductions. 

Then you tell yourself to snap out of it. This is someone’s father, probably married, and you know you shouldn’t be getting butterflies over a handsome stranger. Maybe it’s because you haven’t talked much to other men since your ex left the two of you. Maybe it’s the way he’s so invested in his daughter’s interests, you wonder, but it shouldn’t matter either way. You’re here for Ava. Not to flirt with probably-married-dads.

“Your husband didn’t want to come?” he suddenly asks as the countdown for the concert begins. Your heart nearly stops. That was forward… way more forward than you were expecting. 

“No husband,” you reply with a shrug after giving your heart a few seconds to calm down. “Just me and my girl.” You look over at Ava anxiously counting down the seconds, a big grin on her face and an even bigger one on yours. When you look back to him, he’s sporting a small smile and an understanding in his eyes. 

He says nothing, however, as the beat to Dreamwave Boys’ debut single blasts through the venue and the screaming intensifies. The boys pop out from a lift in the stage floor and the crowd immediately starts singing along. Even you can’t help but to nod your head and mumble some of the lyrics to the parts you know. 

Neither of you can hear much to say anything else to one another for a while, only silently bobbing heads and tapping feet along while both of your daughters’ scream all the lyrics beside the two of you. It’s not until he’s suddenly moving out of his seat does he lean closer to whisper and ask watching Jayda and that he’ll be right back.

You nod and give him a smile, and he’s off down the aisle. His daughter Jayda looks over at you with a big grin, then notices Ava at the same time. The two girls wave at each other, with Ava being the more forward one out of the two as she steps closer to introduce herself. 

“Asher looks so good tonight!” she squeaks to Jayda, and you can’t help but to giggle.

“Okay, but Noah’s outfit during “Summer Crush”?! Hello?!” 

At this point, an interlude video plays on the big screens so the girls can chat for a moment about the show. Your heart thrums away in your chest at the sight. You love nothing more than seeing your little girl happy and in her element, enjoying herself and making new friends. How did she become such a social butterfly? 

You wish you could say the same as Jayda’s dad finally makes his way back to his seat, but realizes it’s now being occupied by your own daughter. With a chuckle, he happily sits in Ava’s seat on the opposite side of you, a few waters and snacks in his arms.

“I see our girls are bonding over boys that are too old for them,” he comments, making you laugh and shake your head.

“Ava’s going to make friends wherever she goes,” you tell him, glancing over to see the two girls huddled together and giggling over a silly video of the boys playing on the screen that shows some backstage access footage. 

“Wish my Jayda was the same, but she’s a little shy. I’m always grateful for girls like Ava that bring her out of her shell.” With that, he’s handing over the waters to you to pass along. “Got you girls something to drink. Need to stay hydrated.”

Your heart practically bursts as he hands over three waters, two to pass along, and one for you to keep. “Oh gosh, thank you!” You say, getting Ava’s attention so the two girls can receive their bottles. She happily accepts them with a thank you to him, then turns to Jayda and starts giggling. Jayda looks at you, then at her dad, then at Ava before she returns the same laughter, and suddenly they’re whispering something you can’t hear. 

“The snacks are for us,” he then says, earning your attention to see a pack of chocolate candies in his lap. “Figured it would help pass the time.”

A warmth settles over you as you watch him open the pack, then offer you some before himself. With a thankful smile, you take a few pieces and pop them in your mouth. 

“Thank you,” you say, cheeks heated as his smile widens. “That’s really kind of you. I’m surprised your wife isn’t here at the concert, too.” Now you’re the one to be forward, but it’s been bothering you since the two of you started talking. Not that there’s anything wrong with a father taking his daughter to a concert, it’s only unusual. 

“Jayda’s mom and I aren’t together,” he tells you honestly. “It’s my weekend to have her, and it was her birthday, so we’re celebrating together by being here.”

The two of you look at your girls at the same time, completely in their own little world as the intermission video begins to end and the show resumes.

“Well, she’s celebrating by spending time with her little boy band boyfriends and I’m just tagging along,” he corrects. You laugh louder than you have the whole night, and the satisfied smile on his face says he’s proud of it.

The show carries on without either of you being able to say much from all the noises and screaming, but you drink your water you’re now grateful to have, and snack on some of his candy with him. Jayda and Ava have instantly become best friends in the span of an hour as they dance and sing while holding on to one another. 

The power of boy bands, you think. 

The show lasts another forty-five minutes, with a fifteen minute encore and about five more minutes of saying bye to their fans, then everyone is hustling out of their seats. 

“Mommy!” Ava begins bouncing toward you, still completely full of energy and excitement. “Thank you, thank you, thank you for such a fun night! I got to see Asher and I met my new best friend, Jayda! Oh, give your number to her dad so we can hang out again! Please, please, please, pretty please?!”

She’s almost too much for you to handle. Sitting through the screaming and the loud music has you on the precipice of a migraine, but for her, you’d do anything. As you make your way out of the venue crowd, you look behind to see the father and daughter walking close.

“Sounds like a plan,” he says, looking down at Jayda to see her bounce with her own excitement. How could you say no to that? Plus, he seems like a genuine, sweet guy. Ava’s own father wouldn’t be caught dead at a place like this. Most of the time he doesn’t even care about her birthday, only getting a card in the mail you can tell was filled out and sent by Ava’s grandmother from the both of them. 

Before the thought has you burning with rage, you smile and accept the offer to give him your number. You hand him your phone so he can put his own contact information in, then the girls say their goodbyes, you tell him thanks once again, and you’re off your separate ways. 

***

Turns out, the two don’t live that far away from Ava and you. If it weren’t for the girl’s school and after school activities, as well as both of your work schedules, you would have a hang out date set for your daughters. The two of you text back and forth, trying to make time for the girls to meet up and do something fun, but even a week after the concert there are still no concrete plans made, yet.

Still, you don’t mind texting him that much. He surprised you the day after the concert when he sent a simple text to you.

Did you know Noah’s favorite movie growing up was Spy Kids?

You read the text at work and nearly busted out laughing during a meeting. You don’t think someone has made you laugh so much in such a short period of time in so long. You can’t even remember the last time you texted a man so casually. Since Ava’s father left, your life has been her and only her, so when he keeps texting just to say something silly, you can’t help but to give in.

I like knowing you’re laughing and smiling. Makes me happy.

A few weeks after the concert, with a few failed attempts to plan a fun activity for your daughters and a few more fun and pointless texts in between, his message takes you by surprise. You aren’t sure how to take it. He is a saint, so it appears. Maybe he’s only being nice. Maybe he understands the struggles of being a single parent and trying to do your best. 

It might be coming from a place of sympathy, not flirting, you think. You shake the thoughts away as you sit at your desk. It’s a quarter to three, your work is done for the day, and you need to leave to pick Ava up from school soon. You have nothing to do but overthink about his messages. 

What if he is flirting? Your mind wonders and then wanders. He’s incredibly attractive. Your heart begins to race thinking of him the night of the concert, a tight t-shirt on and jeans. So casual, yet it’s making your skin hot when you picture it now. 

I like when you make me laugh.

Your text is quick and short. You press send before you can back out. There’s nothing wrong with getting to know the person your daughter will be hanging around, right? You reason with yourself that you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re both single. You have a common interest: Ava and Jayda. He seems sweet and he is incredibly charming as well as funny. It’s completely fine.

Then maybe we need to speed up these plans of getting together… for our daughters, of course. How about a movie night next week?

Your heart nearly stops. He has been up front and direct since you met him. Maybe that’s another thing you like about him, as well. It’s clear he isn’t shy about putting himself out there, which only makes your message back to him easy.

How about next Friday?

***

Ava is thrilled to get the news she will be seeing her new bestie soon. Having a friend she doesn’t get to see at school made you finally crack and get her the cell phone she’s been wanting so she can message Jayda whenever she likes (within reason, of course). 

The two of them aren’t the only ones that have been talking back and forth for a little over a month. He texts you nearly every day at this point. Sometimes it’s not even about Jayda or Ava. Sometimes, he’s just asking about your day. One afternoon, you even spilled to him the troubles you were having at work, and he let you vent. There was another time he sent you pictures of the car he was fixing up after informing you he was a mechanic, and has been so for about thirteen years. 

The sight of his veiny arms in the shot with grease streaks did nothing to settle the attraction you’ve been feeling for this man. With every text, your feelings only grow stronger. You wonder how that can be when you’ve only been around him once, but each day with your messages back and forth, you get to know him a little better. 

You walk into the movie theater on a Friday evening with Ava at your side and butterflies filling your stomach. It’s silly, really, to be so nervous when it’s only a movie night for your daughters, but you would be lying if you weren’t a little excited as well. 

Okay, a lot excited, and it doesn’t help that when you see him in the arcade with Jayda playing against each other in a racing game, your heart swells. The pair are laughing while clutching their fake steering wheels, until he swerves into a fence post near the racing track and Jayda comes in first. For a moment, you watch the two, until Ava pulls you into the arcade.

“How are you so bad at driving, daddy? Someone needs to take your license!” Jayda throws her head back and laughs. Meanwhile, he can only shake his head until he spots the two of you. 

“Hey, you made it!” There’s smiles on everyone’s faces as you say your hello’s. He reaches out his hand a moment later to drop a stack of coins in Ava’s palm. “You girls go have some fun. Movie starts in thirty.”

Then the girls are off, leaving you alone with him for just a bit. The two of you step away from the arcade to get away from all the music and flashing lights, finding a quiet corner near the concession counter to talk while still keeping an eye on the girls. 

For a moment, he only looks at you, one side of his mouth raised in a smirk. The worries of maybe having something on your face arise, until you notice his eyes rake down your body adorning a faded band tee and skirt, then back up to take in your lips, and finally he meets your gaze.

“What?” Your body burns beneath his stare. Weeks of texting with him couldn’t prepare you for seeing him face to face again. The tension builds so thick between the two of you so suddenly, it nearly becomes hard to breathe. You take in his tight t-shirt once again, casual jeans, and hair so messily styles it looks perfect. His gorgeous grin widens before he finally replies to you.

“No way you could have gotten more gorgeous since the last time I saw you.” Heat washes over your body at the words. You weren’t expected such a forward compliment right from the beginning, but you assume he’s not one to beat around the bush. You realize you like that about him even more so, though your heart is racing. It’s been so long since you’ve paid any man’s advances attention. Insecurities arise at the thought of dating again since it’s something you haven’t considered in so long. 

“Oh, um,” you begin, brushing loose hair behind your ear, “thank you.” 

“Sorry,” he immediately replies, catching you off guard. “Sorry, that might have been too much. It’s just I haven’t really connected with someone like this in so long and—”

He’s cut off by a familiar voice calling your name, snapping you out of the moment. Dread instantly replaces any and all butterflies. Your racing heart falls to the pit of your stomach. You know there’s only one man that could ever do that to you.

“Bryce?” The frown is evident on your face as you stare at your ex, Ava’s father, the man that walked out on the two of you and would rather come to the movies with whatever new chick he found than his own daughter. If you’re honest, he makes you sick, but he also has a way to make you feel so small, you could never stand up to him. Maybe that’s why he left. You couldn’t fight for him to stay in the way he wanted or needed. At least, that’s what his mother had said about you. 

“What are you doing here?” Bryce looks at the two of you, sizing him up and down before turning back to you. There’s a woman next to him that you’ve never seen, but she appears uninterested as she taps away on her phone. 

“Well, I don’t know what you typically do at places like this, but we’re here to watch a movie.” He clearly has no problem sizing Bryce up as well, and from his tone you realize he doesn’t like much of what he sees. 

“What? A date?” Bryce’s tone is more than mocking. As if he wants to make it clear he’s surprised by the fact that someone else would be into you. Another way to make you feel small. You aren’t even together anymore, but he still wants you to be that insecure girl he met when you were a teenager. 

“Yeah,” he replies to Bryce, wrapping an arm around your shoulders after stepping closer to you, “a date. Is there a problem with a guy taking his girl and her daughter to the movies?”

Now Bryce’s eyes go wide. Your heart hammers away in your chest. You don’t like this situation. Not at all. You only wanted a relaxing, fun night for the girls and to hang out with a possible new friend. 

“Ava is here? Where is she?” Bryce looks around, but you assume he hasn’t noticed the girls playing DDR in the arcade since their backs are to you all. You’re thankful for that. It’s never good when Ava sees her father. It only drills in the fact that she hardly ever does, and it gets her down for a while. If you can protect her from that sadness, you would do anything.

“The movie should be starting soon,” you turn to him to ignore Bryce and his question, forcing a smile. “Should we get some drinks and popcorn?” 

“Alright, then,” Bryce says before anyone can get another word in, because of course he has to be the last one to get his word in. “See you around. Tell Ava I said Hi.”

You won’t be doing that, you decide, as Bryce and the woman thankfully go to the opposite side of the theater. You watch as he wraps an arm around her to pull her close before leaning in and placing a kiss against the side of her head. She remains glued to her phone, but you can finally sigh in relief. 

“Thanks.” You turn back to him, too embarrassed and insecure to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to do that for me.” His arm falls from your shoulders, but he suddenly takes your hand in his, caressing your skin with his thumb in such a gentle motion you nearly melt. It’s been so long since you’ve had even the tiniest bit of intimacy, it's evident in the way your cheeks flood with warmth. 

“First, you don’t need to thank me. No one is going to disrespect you in front of me.” He says it so matter-of-factly you nearly want to cry. You can’t remember the last time someone has stuck up for you so boldly with so much certainty. “And second, I kind of like the idea of you being my girl. One day, I mean. Like I was trying to tell you before, I haven’t connected with anyone like this in so long. I honestly thought I forgot how to even flirt, so that’s why I might have come on too strong. Believe me when I say this isn’t usual for me, or something I always do. I just feel like everything is right when I talk to you and the past few weeks getting to know you have been the best parts of my day recently.”

His confession leaves you speechless. It’s all the things you have been feeling but have been too afraid to even admit to yourself, let alone say out loud. This man really does wear his heart on his sleeve, you realize, but you know as you get older, there’s no point in playing games or leaving people guessing. Another green flag in endless green flags you’ve noticed since you first laid eyes on him. You wonder when the ball will drop when it’s too good to be true, but in the moment you decide you don’t care. If he’s willing to be so open with you, you’re willing to take a chance on something new. 

“I feel the same way,” you tell him with a shy grin, earning a wide, satisfied smile in return. His shoulders relax a little in relief, you assume. Maybe he wasn’t as confident as you thought, but it’s only another thing you have in common. “This is so unlike me to even do something like this, but to be honest, when I saw you with Jayda that first night, I just felt something right inside of me.” 

Before either of you can explore the feeling that’s bubbling in the moment, the girls come running over with a big, purple stuffed teddy bear.

“Look what we won at the ring toss game!” Jayda excitedly shows the two of you as she holds the teddy bear up.

Ava stands next to her grinning. “We named him Starlight!”

“That’s Dreamwave Boys’ first song they ever came out with!”

“Jayda’s going to keep him first! Then I will next!”

“We’ll switch back and forth every time we get to see each other!”

They’re speaking so fast you can barely keep up. He can only laugh next to you with a nod of approval.

“Sounds good, girls.”

In between all the excitement, you didn’t realize he was still holding on to your hand. It doesn’t take the girls long to notice. They each look at your hands, to your faces, then to each other. The sly grins that come across their features next don't go unnoticed, so you try to slowly pull your hand away with a nervous chuckle.

“Let’s go get some popcorn, okay?”

They both nod in agreement, but as you’re walking up to the concession counter, Ava leans over to Jayda, thinking you can’t hear her. “Oh my gosh, if our parents get married that would make us sisters!” 

He nearly chokes on his laugh while walking next to you, but you can only focus on the way your face swells with warm embarrassment. 

***

Lately, you've felt so unlike yourself. When you think about it, you know before you met him you would have never been so open to a new friendship so quickly with a stranger, let alone text back and forth for over a month and go on a movie date. 

So it shocks you weeks after your movie date as you get ready for him to come to your house, not being able to hold back your nervous, yet excited grin as you powder your cheeks with blush and do final touch ups to your hair. Since Ava is at her grandmother’s house for the weekend, you decided to put yourself out there and invite him for dinner. You told yourself it wouldn’t hurt since the girls would be seeing more of each other eventually and most likely hanging out, but you can’t lie to yourself. You want to see him again. 

It’s only a little after seven when he shows up on your doorstep, bottle of wine in one hand, flowers in the other. 

“Evening, gorgeous.” Your heart soars with the compliment, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. The way this man can make your heart flutter from a few simple words…

“You shouldn’t have,” you say, grabbing the flowers from him, roses in different hues of deep red and soft blush arranged in the center, and smelling their scent softly. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.” He beams with pride at your own delight before following you into your house and toward the kitchen.

“Smells delicious in here.” You quickly grab a vase for the flowers to set them in water while he takes a seat in a bar stool at the island counter. “What’s on the menu, sweetheart?”

His compliments and nicknames come so naturally to him, it seems. Butterflies flood your insides once again, not being so used to such attention from someone you’re attracted to, but with each one you fall into something new and exciting with him. No longer wanting to ignore what this is between the two of you, you decide to accept it all from him, whatever he wants to give.

You describe to him the creamy chicken alfredo dish you prepared, hoping it’s something he will enjoy since it’s so simple, yet tasty. He assures you it sounds amazing, and together you prepare to eat. He makes himself at home in your kitchen by grabbing plates and silverware, and you finish up cooking before you both sit at the dining room table in the next room. 

Immediately when the pasta hits his tongue he’s groaning in delight. You love to cook, but sometimes Ava can be a picky eater, so it’s nice to have someone else eat your food for once. 

“Delicious, sweetheart,” he says in a deeper, lower tone you aren’t sure if he’s actually talking about the food. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s been years since you’ve been interested in anyone else. Clearly you’re a little rusty when it comes to all of this stuff. “A beautiful woman that can cook like this? That cooks like this for me? Have I died and gone to heaven?”

“Oh gosh,” you say giggling before covering your face with your hands. “You’re making me blush.” When you finally look at him, there’s a devious glint in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“Good.” Heat swells in your lower belly from the simple word. What is this man doing to you?

Once the moment of risky, heated flirtation dies down, you carry on eating your meal and getting to know each other. He tells you a silly story of his childhood and you tell him an embarrassing one from your high school years. He explains how he got started working on cars from his father and you talk a bit about the books you like to read. From one topic to the next, conversation with him flows so easily you almost think you’re dreaming. Before you know it, your plates are empty, the wine is gone, and hours have passed. 

“It’s almost like a movie,” you tell him, feeling light from the bit of alcohol you shared. Not enough to affect your judgment in any way, but enough to make the words come out easier. Or maybe it’s just because he makes you feel so comfortable. 

“What is?” he asks, crossing his arms before resting them against the table to lean closer.

“This. Us.” You chuckle, shaking your head. “It feels too good to be true. How do we meet like we did and get along so well and our girls get along so well and… it’s like a movie. But it’s not…”

“No, it’s not,” he says, reaching to take your hand in his. “It could be, though. It could be better.”

“How? Things never end up like the movies. Normally, there’s no happy ending. At least not for me.”

“You’ll never know unless you try, sweetheart.” His thumb grazes your skin, melting your bones and muscles away until you turn to putty in his hands. His touch calms you and feels so right. “And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather try than lose something that is becoming so precious to me.”

His words hit you hard. You know he’s right. Even if it doesn’t play out perfectly like a movie, you know he’s worth trying for. 

So are you.

You’ve been stuck so long in the role of being the wife to a neglectful, hurtful man, even after your divorce. It’s time you finish that chapter of your life and begin a new one. 

With your heart racing, you lean closer across the table, giving his hand a squeeze as the worries escape and a new kind of boldness takes hold. For a second, you meet his eyes, then your gaze lowers to his lips. Neither of you say anything as the seconds pass. Tension fills the air, the tone of the night shifting to something filled with desire and anticipation. 

“I’d really like to kiss you, sweetheart.” The deepness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Would you let me?”

All you can do is nod and watch as he inches closer. Seconds feel like minutes in the moment of eager breaths and tension. Your insides shake with anticipation, suddenly dying to feel his lips on yours, skin on skin, heat swimming in the pit of your stomach before it races between your thighs. 

Then his lips are on yours. Breaths slow as you feel the softness of his skin, the heat, the desire, all wrapped up in a simple yet already explosive gesture. He leans a little farther in, pressing himself against your mouth while you suck in a deep breath, chest heaving and a moan spilling out before you can stop yourself. He deepens the kiss, opening his mouth while his tongue slips against your bottom lip just as his hand rises to the back of your neck.

Melting him into, you allow him to take control. You drop all defenses to let him guide you close as you kiss. Closer and closer until the kiss that was once just exploring now unleashes in passion. Your body follows his lead until you’re suddenly in his lap, wrapping hands around his neck as his palms fall to your waist. 

His kisses stray from your mouth down your jaw to end up against your neck. Without your mouth full of the taste of his skin, your mind begins to spin as you start mumbling the first thing that comes up.

“I don’t… I don’t want to rush this…” He groans against your neck as he sucks right beneath your ear. Chills race down your spine and heat floods your body to every limb. Heart racing, breath quickening, body nearly trembling and you know this is so unlike you, but you know it feels so good to be this free and trust someone again. Even if for a moment.

“Want me to stop, sweetheart, say the word.” His voice is a mumble of words against your heated flesh, speaking between kisses and sucking the tender spots that have you shaking. 

“No,” you whisper and he freezes in place, all kisses halted, all touches stalled, “don’t stop.”

The groan of satisfaction from his chest travels directly between your thighs. He pulls your body closer by the hips, guiding you to press yourself against him, panties rubbing against his jeans thanks to the dress you’re wearing. As he continues kissing your neck and you begin rolling your hips against him in desperation, his hands travel from your waist to your breasts, running careful palms over the highly sensitive peaks until he’s driving you wild.

Fire ignites in your body and you can hardly handle waiting any longer. Boldly, you take the straps of your dress to slip them down your shoulders, exposing a black lace bra before him. He halts his kisses for a moment to take you in. You’re nearly breathless from anticipation and yearning, watching his eyes glide down your body and back up again. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he groans, each syllable dripping with a desire you can feel between your thighs as you straddle his lap. The words give you the courage to reach behind you and unhook the bra, letting it fall from your body to leave you exposed and vulnerable. He takes in a deep breath, his hands resuming their caressing of your body, thumbs rolling over pert nipples to send your back arching, pushing yourself more into his grasp. 

“Please,” you cry out, grinding yourself harder against his thickness between your thighs. Pleasure jolts through your body at the steady contact, lace panties rubbing about your swollen, aching clit as you ride his cock stiff against his jeans. Feeling good, too good, you’re sure you could come from this alone, but quickly enough his hands stall your motions at your hips.

“Not yet,” he growls against your neck, “I need to taste you first”

Taking you by surprise, he guides your body toward the dining table, settling you on top before falling to his knees. Your dress remains bunched around your waist as his hands slip beneath the skirt, up your thighs, gripping the sides of your panties and tugging them off in one swift motion. A gasp fills the air as he parts your thighs, getting a complete view of your pussy dripping with need before him. 

He begins by kissing a trembling knee, working his way up your inner thigh all while keeping his eyes on your own. You don’t break contact, even though your eyelids begin to flutter as he inches closer to where you need him most. A sharp breath, a heavy exhale, and he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your slit, then he moves lower. His tongue flicks out to slip down toward your clit, brushing skin against skin as a wave of heated need surges through you. 

“Oh God…” Your head falls back, finally breaking the gaze he held you in, hand reaching to run fingers through his hair. 

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he groans between your thighs. You have no choice but to obey him. He has you right on the edge of losing your sanity. Your head dips and you meet his eyes just in time to watch him press a kiss against your clit before licking from your entrance and back to the swollen bud. “Watch me as I eat this pretty pussy and make it mine.” 

Shivering at the words, you can only grip the strands of his hair tighter. The move causes a deep groan to build in his chest just before he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue reaches your clit in desperation, massaging the sensitive skin and swallowing all of your juices that he’s caused to drip out of you. Strong hands grip you at your thighs, holding you in place as you begin to tremble around his head. He devours you between your legs, sucking on your clit before diving down to your entrance to fuck you with his tongue. Then he travels back up, swirling his tongue around and around until you’re rolling your hips against his face. 

“God… please…” you begin to mutter a stream of nothing because you can’t even think of what you need to tell him. You just want more. You want release. “Please…” 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mumbles against your flesh, dropping a hand from your thigh to bring fingers up to your dripping entrance. He pushes two digits inside, causing you to squeeze your walls around them as your legs tighten on each side of his head. “Tastes so sweet. So perfect. I want to feel you coming against me.” 

He continues sucking on your clit as your moans and whimpers fill the room. He drives his fingers deeper to earn a sudden gasp falling from your lips, calling his name as you do as he says. Pressing harder against his face, rolling your hips to ride his fingers, you feel the bliss coiling at the pit of your stomach. The red hot pleasure swirls inside of you, building and building as he eats you out, until you can take no more.

The pleasure bursts through your body, taking hold as you tremble and cry his name. Walls squeezing around him, fingers gripping his hair tight, riding out the bliss against his face. He never slows his motions, continuing to massage your clit with his tongue, continuing to fuck you with his fingers, until you grow too sensitive between your legs all too quickly.

With a final lick of your juices, he finally pulls away as your body slumps, completely boneless from the orgasm he’s given you. There’s a sheen of your arousal against his lips and his fingers are coated just the same. The sight of him kneeling down, looking up, the remnants of your pleasure on his body as well as his wild hair thanks to your fingers do nothing but bolster your confidence in the moment. It’s like this man was made for you, not only for your pleasure but for your taking. You can’t deny what either of you want any longer. 

He rises quickly to pull his t-shirt over his head and toss aside. Your eyes rake down his body, taking in his bare, broad chest, every line of every muscle, before settling on the defined bulge in his jeans. 

“Do you have a condom?” He nearly pants, beginning to unbutton his jeans with one hand as he takes a step closer. 

The question barely registers, then it sinks in. No. No you don’t have any protection. You haven’t needed it in so long, it’s not something you even thought of having in your house. 

“I-I don’t…” Disappointment settles inside of you, but the urgency remains as well. 

“I hope you don’t think any less of me, sweetheart…” He reaches in his back pocket, pulling out a foil wrapper from within. Relief washes over you, not even caring about why he would bring it in the first place. “I didn’t have any expectations for tonight, but I did have a few hopes.”

You can’t help but to giggle at this perfect, perfect man. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to press your lips against his own, tasting your pleasure on your tongue. He grips your waist, tight, pulling you closer to the edge of the table before pushing his jeans and boxer-briefs down his hips. He pulls away only to rip the condom wrapper open, and you watch as he rolls it down his thick, hard and aching length. Your pussy pulses in need once again, dying to feel him inside of you, filling you up. 

“Hurry,” you gasp, pulling him closer to line the tip of his cock to your soaked and waiting entrance. “Please, I need you.”

“Fuck,” he growls, beginning to push himself inside of you, “a woman like you can absolutely ruin a man like me.” He glides inside of you with ease. Your pussy squeezes around him, feeling so full in seconds, so overwhelmed and so perfect. He fills you up completely, giving you a few seconds to accommodate his size with a few gasps and pants and heavy breaths until you can take it no longer. 

With a roll of your hips against him, he begins to thrust his hips, shaking as if he’s trying to hold back. With his fingers tightening against the dress still around your hips, a deep groan builds in his chest the moment he slides back into your tightening pussy. 

“God, you feel so good.” His mouth comes crashing down onto yours moments later. Hips work himself in and out of you between your thighs, tongues tangling together and hands desperately gripping to hold on to something. “So perfect, sweetheart.” 

Heat begins to build once again, pleasure swirling throughout your body as you let go of all your worries, insecurities, and cares. Right now it’s just the two of you. A man between your legs giving you something you haven’t felt in so long. The trust and assurance that follows wraps itself around your heart, leaving you breathless as you succumb to all the things he’s offering. 

“More,” you gasp, legs trembling around him, so close to the edge once again from the overwhelming lust and pleasure and freedom. Before you know it, a hand reaches between the two of you, finding your clit and rubbing circles mercilessly to reach your end. “Yes, please,” you cry out in a strained whisper, moans of his name filling the space as his cock hits the spot to fill your body with red hot tension that feels so good you would swear you’re dreaming. 

“Come for me,” he orders with a deep, raspy groan in your ear. “That’s my good girl, come on my cock, baby.”

You’re shaking around him, body tightening with the need for release until the threat finally snaps, breaking all control as the heated bliss surges through your body for the second time. Your head falls back in cries of passion, so lost in him you don’t even know who you are anymore. He drops his hands to grip your hips tight, thrusting harder into you as you ride out the pleasure against him. 

His motions become quick, breaths even more so, until his release inside of you. His own head falls back, eyes screwing shut while groaning, panting, coming undone within your walls and you feel his cock pulsing. Together you’ve made a mess of absolute pleasure, limbs tangling in limbs as your mouths crash. Heavy breaths and sticky skin colliding are all that can be heard for a few moments, until he finally becomes too sensitive to remain inside of you.

He pulls away with another satisfied groan. Your body grows limp once again. Tired eyes find one another, until giggling and breathy chuckles are shared between the two of you. 

“One hundred percent,” he suddenly says, causing your brows to furrow.

“What?”

“Oh, I thought you asked what are the chances I’ve died and gone to heaven. One hundred percent.” You’re giggling again at him before he’s pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss. Then two of you make your way to get cleaned up, dressed again, and to clean up the table you’ve just made a mess of. He stops to press a kiss to your cheeks, forehead, anywhere and anytime he can in the process, and you realize you haven’t felt so genuinely cared for in so long. You could get used to this.

When it’s all done, you end up on his chest as he lays across your couch in the living room. His hand on your back, yours beneath his shirt on his stomach. Your eyes flutter closed as the night, including the pleasure, takes its toll on you. 

“Just like the movies,” you mutter, halfway to sleep.

“Ready for your happy ending, sweetheart?” You can’t even laugh at the question. No giggles or smirks or chuckles.

Because you are, and you know it’s with him and your two girls now. “So ready.” 

[dduane]

I just wanted to tell you, I came across your name in a book group - someone suggested your young wizard series as something to check out if one had enjoyed Harry Potter. I didn't have any expectations going in aside from the general 'kid discovers magic is real', and I started to read last night before bed. I woke up 3 hours ago and immediately grabbed the book, and mainlined it like a junkie. I'm going to the library today to get the rest of the series. I am 43 years old, I've never written a letter to an author before, but I just had to tell you - I think your story is amazing. I loved everything about it - you followed the rules of the universe that you built, and because of that, I was able to stay in the story right alongside Nita and Kit. It is *rare* that I don't get bumped out of a book when it breaks its own universal rules - the only other ones I can think of are the Fellowship of the Ring series and the Broken Earth trilogy. Anyway, I'll stop rambling, but I just wanted you to know that your writing is incredible, and you are now on my 'recommend this author' list. Thank you for sharing your gift with us.

And thank you so much for letting me know! It's always good to hear I'm getting the job done. :)

As for the "rules" thing: I belong to one of the schools of (fantasy) writing that leans hard into the idea of limitation being key in both making things seem feel more real for your reader, and assisting them in fully grounding themselves in the story you're trying to tell them. (I just typoed that as "sell them", but that works too.)

Life is full of limitations: things you want but can't have, conditions there's no way to change but you wish you could. Without the ubiquitous reality of gravity underlying them, dreams of flying aren't worth much. So to feel real—at least from where I'm sitting—magic, to fit in, needs rules: things it can do, things it can't. The tension between those two states (and on the characters caught between them) will be a potent driver of both plot and character development. And with my eye on the drama both of those rely on, I have zero time for the "wave your wand and shit happens" approach to magic in fantasy worldbuilding. That generally strikes me as both lazy and boring.

Then once the rules have been set up, it seems to me, the writer needs to stay in them and not casually screw around with the structure... any more than gravity will let (nonwizardly) people screw around with it, no matter how much trouble they're in. Here, consistency really matters. To break the rules on a whim is to betray the reader... which is not a nice thing to do.

Anyway: I'm glad this approach is working for you so far. That said: the underlying magic system in the Young Wizards universe reveals more of its complexities as the series goes on. I'm hoping those books will work for you too.