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teaspoon-full-of-sugar · 10 months

Text

tangointhenight

pairing: harry styles x reader (au)

warnings: idiots in love trope, long-distance fwb (sounds weird but it makes sense just give her a read luv), switch!harry and switch!reader, detailed descriptions of female and male masterbation, maladaptive daydreaming during a fanfic, mentions of exhibitionism, edging, one singular ‘daddy’, cum swapping, breeding kink, praise kink and degradation, rope play, spitting, choking, mutual masterbation, overstimulation, use of toys (vibrator mostly), crying after sex (iconic)

word count: 13.3k

synopsis: harry records erotic audios, and y/n is an avid listener

author’s note: hello nasties, here’s another filth fic for ya! this has been a long time in the making, and i am so sorry i have been mia for so long, but i am back for the time being to give you this fic. i have wanted to do something like this for a while now, but it’s been a struggle (lots of blood, sweat, and tears put into this). i’m kinda proud of her to be honest, and i hope you enjoy :)

tags: @victoria-styles

masterlist

—

Y/N finally sinks into her mattress after yet another tiring day. She can hear her roommate on the other side of the wall, chatting with her girlfriend over the phone, blissfully ignorant to the fact that she currently has a hand teasing the band of her sweatpants while the other scrolls aimlessly through her phone.

Exhaustion burns behind her eyes, but there’s a desperate ache in her belly, one that demands satiety. She opens the internet app to find it unchanged from the night before, still lighting up in the profile named tangointhenight. His profile picture is a tantalizing photo of his hand, splayed across his thigh, which are clad in tight, floral printed pants, doing wonders for the very prominent bulge. Pieces of paint linger on his thumbnail, a pretty pale mint color, and his skin, tanned with faint freckles and etches of dark ink, looks tempting in the golden light. At his wrist is a braided twine bracelet with cheap beads that have letters that she can’t make out, which looks old and wilted.

She scrolls down, only lingering for a moment to appreciate the photo one final time.

There are some cute little posts and polls in addition to his erotic audios. The newest one, posted just that afternoon, warns not to listen to this in public with a series of cute little emoticons following. If there’s one thing she’s learned about Tango, that’s what she and other listeners call him, is that he’s a bit of an exhibitionist; his audios tend to lean toward nearly getting caught or even being caught (oftentimes leading to a “helping out” situation). She honestly wasn’t into that sort of thing until he started talking about it, and now, she finds it incredibly sexy, the thrill of the quick high and the fear of being caught in such a vulnerable moment.

She’ll definitely have to give the new audio a listen on one of her morning commute trips to the university; perhaps, she could give it a listen while she waits for her class to start, his deep voice teasing and coaxing her into an aching mess. She hopes that it’ll leave her trembling and throbbing for the rest of the day. She wonders if she’ll be able to make it until night before she has to finish herself off or if she’ll have to sneak off to the restrooms during one of her seven minute breaks, foot propped up on the toilet paper dispenser while she rubs herself to her bitter end.

She scrolls down a bit, passing over audios that vary from pillow talk to a dirty fuck in back alleys, before tapping on the familiar link, purple from use, the description teasingly saying: we’ve been visiting my mum for a week, and I haven’t been able to taste you... I guess we’ll just have to be quiet.

It’s one of the first audios she listened to when she was just discovering this new world of pleasure, so it has a special place in her heart. It’s one of his firsts from nearly a year ago, of fuzzy listening quality and nervous voice, but she finds his ramblings endearing; although, admittedly, she thinks anything he does is cute.

She tucks in her earbuds and presses the play button. Tossing the phone to the side, her eyes flutter closed, visions of white dotting through the darkness as they adjust. There’s a subtle cracking sound that indicates that it has finally loaded, and a fuzzy droning sound filters through the headphones. There’s a fan going in the background; it squeaks and grumbles nearby. A door creaks open, one of those fake sound effects that you can buy, but she appreciates the effort.

“Hey, lovie, feelin’ better?”

His familiar voice floats through her ears. She settles even more into her sheets. His voice is a nice, hot cup of tea at the end of a hard day, a drug that leaves her head foggy and senses dulled. His voice reminds her of sleep: deep, soothing, persistent, yet ever fleeting. She yearns for it, like being able to listen to that one mazing song for the first time again or the feeling of sunshine after the long winter months. His voice is intoxicating, reaching a baritone timbre that she can’t quite put to words.

At first, she wanted to put a face to the man who hummed sweet nothings in her ears, who coaxed her to oblivion for nights on end. Now, she’s at ease with never knowing. It keeps things interesting, and she doesn’t think about it as much anymore.

“If only mum wasn’t home, maybe we could’ve snuck a quick one in the shower,” he says. She smirks, picturing him tucked into his childhood bed, a cozy twin that would be a struggle for the both of them to fit in, and he has his old quilt tucked up to his neck, leaving his bare feet exposed because of how little it is.

There’s a moment of silence, then a cute little laugh.

“I know. You wouldn’t want to sin in her godly home, but she loves you, probably more than me. I don't think she would think any differently of you.”

Another beat of silence, then his voice catches in his throat. Y/N smiles softly as he stutters pitifully, slowly, struggling to find his words.

“N-no, y’know tha's not how I meant it,” he says. “Like, she loves you more than she loves me. Not that I don’t love you as much as she does.” He moves, the rustling of his sheets crackling in her ears. She can hear his hand run over his stubble, nails scratching over short little hairs. She wonders if he usually grows out his facial hair or if he’s the type to keep clean shaven.

“She couldn’t possibly love you more than I do.” The bed creaks as he shifts again. “C’mon, babe, join me. ‘S all nice and warm.”

She herself burrows further into her blankets, knowing full well that she’s probably going to be kicking them off in a few minutes. She turns to her side, blinking her eyes open, trying to immerse herself into the fantasy.

“‘M glad you got time off of work to come here with me. I know you could've been spending time back home, but you came here with me instead.” His voice is closer than before, however whispered. Every accentuated vowel that passes through his lips is like a breath of fresh air, and she hums quietly at the sound.

“I really appreciate it. ‘M glad we got to spend this time together.”

She imagines that he tucks her into his neck, coddling her while his fingers trace over the curves of her face, from the furrow of her brow, down to the apple of her cheeks, before stopping at her lips, lingering only momentarily before his thumb would push just past them.

He chuckles suddenly.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Jus’ lovin’ on my girl.”

His short pecks turn into slow, passionate kisses, deep sighs of relief falling from his lips, and she swears she can almost feel his breath on her skin, nose pressed tight to the pulsepoint in her neck as he sponges his lips over her collarbone, teeth nibbling lightly. She tugs the tee up from where it’s settled at her hips to where the curves of her breasts begin, the material squeezing them tightly to her chest. The sensitive skin aches under the tight pressure. She teases her nipples through her thin bra, feeling the tenderness coax chills down her spine.

“Please,” he whines. “Wanna taste you. You can be quiet. I believe in you, love.”

She could picture him now, chin resting on her stomach, eyes pleading with her. She would flick his head at the patronizing tone before brushing her fingers through his hair. Would he have short tuffs or long tresses that she could run her fingers through after a long day, breaking apart the knots that accumulate throughout the day? Does he have pin straight, dark locks that are cut close to his scalp or sand coloured curls that fall gracefully on his forehead? Perhaps, he has a bit of gray peaking through his hairline to match his wise and weathered voice. She could almost moan at the thought. She has always had a thing for older men.

Tango says something, but she can’t really hear it, his words muffled by her racing heart. She pries her pants down shaky legs, leaving them dangling around her ankle, and her fingers work quickly in massaging her puffy clit, arousal wetting the tender skin. Not one for having much patience, she doesn’t wait for him to finish worshiping her body with his mouth before she is rubbing herself through her panties, feeling the cold wetness on her fingertips. Eyes closed, her head falls back on her pillows, legs tensing when she stops suddenly.

“Pretty thighs,” he mumbles to himself between kisses, and she could almost feel his tender touches on the backs of her thighs, which tremble with anticipation. A wetly placed kiss followed by an appreciative hum signals his final descent to her cunt. The sound of languid licks are nearly enough to make her finish, walls clenching miserably around nothing. Fingers slowing close to a dead stop, barely more than a faint fluttering on her sensitive skin, she attempts to collect herself, but it’s difficult when he moans once again, muffled by his furiously working lips.

“Love your pussy, baby.” She melts at his words, eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure rack through her body, hips stuttering in time with each flick of her wrist. “So warm and wet and jus’ perfect for me.” His voice, low with need, makes her throb, arousal slipping into her panties.

She’s close already, an unfortunate effect he has on her. Barely five minutes into her alone time, and she can feel the orgasm begin to build, like an unyielding inferno spreading through every nerve. The stress from her day, the exhaustion with the world, everything melts into just one prominent feeling threatening to burst from her pores. She has to force herself to stop before she falls over the edge in order to draw out this experience as much as possible. She nearly cries out when she pulls her hand away altogether, her poor, puffy clit throbbing painfully.

This continues for a while, the undulating waves of a blistering release and the torture of a cut off orgasm, until the air becomes thick, her heaving breaths heating her empty room.

“There’s my good girl,” he says. “Use me, lovie. Want you to choke me with your pretty thighs.”

His voice is more firm this time, and she could only picture his baleful eyes staring up at her, eager to please her and guide her over the edge. It makes her wonder what they look like; she wonders if they’re a soulful, deep chocolate that darken with lust, a pale blue that reminds her of warm afternoons, or a striking hazel that flickers with green hues in the light.

No matter the color, she is sure that they’re undoubtedly pretty.

“Please,” she whispers faintly.

“More? You want more, my greedy girl?” She nods pitifully, feeling the orgasm build quickly in her belly before she stops once again, fingers pressing into her throbbing clit. “You want my fingers?”

Her walls flutter fruitlessly for some sort of release, for some sort of stimulation. He moans out sharply.

“Feel so good, babylove,” he coos. “So warm and wet f’me.”

She wants to slip her fingers inside, to tease and massage that tender spot that she can barely reach until she struggles to breathe. She wants to feel full, but she doesn’t want to take care of the mess, and it surely won’t be comfortable sleeping in wet sheets. The wipes hidden alongside her other secret toys, beneath mounds of socks and crumpled underwear, do little to take care of the arousal that has pooled between her legs.

She fishes around her bedside table, fingers raking through bundles of panties to find her vibrator, a cheap little thing she got in a set when she first moved into her apartment. Unfortunately, she ran through the other ones that were in the set, and this is the only one left.

She nestles the vibrator on her swollen clit and ticks it on to the lowest setting. This stimulation is different than before; a vague rumbling rattles her bones, making her lips tremble, with choked cries teetering on her tongue. Obscene wet sounds fill her ears, and for a moment, she wonders whether they are coming from the audio or from her dripping pussy, and her thighs tighten around her wrist. She could only imagine the sight of his hands splayed over her hips and on her belly, perfectly pastel painted nails pressing into her wet skin. The shifting of her mattress worries her for only a moment, but her shame melts away, and she loses herself in the sound of his heavy, stifled groans, as if he is truly choking on her. The addition of the vibrator only serves to tease her more as she inches toward the end, brutally building in slow, abrupt waves. She struggles to swallow her whimpers.

He spits suddenly, and her hips jut forward at the sound, an erotic display of dominance, but he makes it seem like such a tender act; she could just melt.

“Can you take another?”

A beat of silence and a sharp intake of breath, squelching sounds growing louder.

“No? That’s alright, lovie, just two, then,” he coos. Her toes curl up a little at his words, hips rising from the mattress. On any other night, she would have craved more; she would have wanted him to coax her open with him telling her that she can take just one more and that she’s his good girl. It’s sad to be turned on by a man simply respecting her limits, but her clit throbs pitifully and some arousal slips out into her underwear.

“Gonna come for me, babe?” His words are slurred and wet. “Make me proud.”

Chills rushing down her spine, her body curls into itself, eager for her release. She wants to come so badly; she wants to feel the pleasure for days afterward, to tremble around her hand until she can’t take it anymore, to come until she’s seeing stars. She wants to make him proud, but she knows that she can’t come yet, or else she won’t be able to hear him finish. She doesn’t have another orgasm in her tonight, and she wants to prolong this experience as much as possible, even if that means holding out on her orgasm. The world spins behind her tightly screwed eyes as she slows her ministrations, the vibrator ticking back down to nothing. Her body reacts before she can even consider the loss, her hips bucking against the toy, attempting desperately to find that little bit of stimulation she needs to finally reach euphoria.

His lips smack loudly as he presses simulated kisses to skin, pulling her back from her foggy mind.

“So good f’me, pretty,” he says, words muted by skin. “So good. Hmm, I knew you could be quiet.” His kisses are slow and tired, unlike before when they were rushed and eager. His mattress grumbles as he moves once again, taking his time to, presumably, trail up the length of her trembling body until they’re suffocating in each other's embrace.

He sighs behind closed lips, heavy and wanton, and she can picture him working his hips into the mattress to find some sort of release. She would pull him up until he was right between her aching legs and press her lips to his neck, feeling his pulse jump at the contact. She would cup his cock through his thin pair of pajamas, teasingly massaging him until he just couldn't take it anymore, caution flying out of his mind as he is overcome by thoughts of her name, her skin, simply her. Trying to form a coherent thought, he would barely be able to hold himself up. She moans quietly at the thought.

“Babylove, we can’t—” He moans, his deep voice splintering. “I don’ know if I’ll be able to control myself.”

She has listened to this audio enough to know what to say to fill the silent gaps to fulfill the ultimate fantasy.

“Please,” she whispers into the dead air, barely audible over her roommate's voice in the next room. “Wanna feel you.” She wishes he was there for her to whisper in his ear, her fingers running up the plain of his back, feeling the heated skin tense at her words. He would quirk an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Y’wanna feel my big cock in y’tummy, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” she whimpers quietly, suddenly very aware of how much she truly wanted to be filled, to have him so impossibly close to her.

“Y’know I can’t say no to you.” She can hear the smile in his voice. She wonders what it looks like, if he beams with an eye-searing grin, his face splitting with happiness, or if he has a shy little smirk, just barely toying on his lips. She likes to think that he has a beautiful smile, filled with warmth and love. She melts a little, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her limbs to the tips of her fingers.

“Get on top.”

She does, eyes still closed as she sits and kneels on her mattress, one hand still between her legs, trying desperately to catch her poor, swollen clit at just the right angle that will leave her thighs quaking, her stomach clenching. Her underwear, which are still stuck around her knees, stretch and snap as her thighs slip and spread further on the sheets.

He moans sharply, and she can feel her hips unconsciously move, as if to pull that sound from him once again. The low vibrations from her little handheld leave her aching for more, nothing more than a faint rumble, but if she flicked it up to the next highest setting, it would surely be heard through the thin walls. Besides, she loves the teasing nearly as much as she hates it, just pushing to the brink before the rush subsides and settles into a quiet lull. Speechless, she gasps for air as yet another jilted orgasm subsides.

She works her hips slowly, careful of the squeaking of her mattress; there are only so many noises that can be passed off as her simply shifting around in her sleep. Her wrist aches at such an awkward angle, but she continues, the burning euphoria just beyond the horizon. He moans, and she nearly follows him, a crest of a cry nearly bursting from her chest but it comes out as a small whimper. She pushes her earbud deeper into her ear, as if to pull him closer.

“Sorry, jus’ feel so good,” he says sheepishly, and she can tell that he’s biting his lip by the faint lisp in his words. It would be torture for the both of them, to be so close but unable to move any faster or harder to finally reach the deepest, most pleasurable part, just barely scratching the itch for intimacy. He whimpers pitifully, and she thinks she might fall apart at the sound, but her stupid vibrator leaves her teetering back and forth between over the edge. She wiggles her hips to try to get a better angle, but with just a hint of stimulation, it’s a torturously slow build up.

“There it is, pretty,” he says, breaths faltering. “That’s the spot. Make yourself feel good, lovie. Use me.” Her legs ache at the awkward angle, trembling with overexertion. She wishes that she could let go of it, leaving it on the mattress with her pussy and thighs holding it in place, so she can grind on it, unhindered by her own body’s exhaustion, eagerly chasing her high. It would also free her hands to tease her breasts again, pulling and pinching at her hardened nipples.

“Love the way you feel, babylove,” he whispers. “Fuck, so wet f’me.” He curses again and again, as if no other words can properly describe the feeling of her, so soft, so warm, so fucking good. She could only picture him in abridged visions, his undoubtedly pretty lips parted with his pretty whimpers sneaking through, his features pinched in pleasure. Her eyes roll back as her orgasm quickly approaches.

“‘M gonna come,” he says suddenly. “Are you close, too?” She whimpers, arousal slips down her swollen lips and into her furiously working fingers, eager to finish alongside him. “Yeah? Y’gonna come with me? Y’gonna come on my cock, pretty?”

She is so close, so unbelievably close, and she struggles to relax her muscles to hold off for just a little longer.

“So fuckin’ good, such a good fuckin’ girl,” he says sharply. His mattress squeaks now, unable to hold back the sharp jolts of his hips, and he lets go of all inhibitions, moaning freely. She could imagine his hand tracing up her belly, cupping her swinging breasts, and he would suckle on her nipples until her fervent hips faltered. He would brush his hands up the curve of her back, digging into the muscles of her shoulders until she fell forward. Faces nestled together, interlocking like pieces of a puzzle, they would breathe each other in, savoring such a close moment of intimacy. It would feel like a lifetime as they waited with bated breath, using each other to get the most pleasure possible.

She comes when he does, holding her breath to keep the moans from slipping, which makes it all the more euphoric, the chance of nearly getting caught at her most vulnerable and the faint lightheadedness making her vision foggy. Her orgasm leaves her legs trembling, slipping away from her still buzzing toy, falling forward into her sheets. She breathes in sharply, barely holding back a pained cry; fat tears of pleasure soak into her blanket as euphoria crashes and beats into her muscles. The heart-racing, earth-shattering, limb-thrashing orgasm makes her chest heave. Just like she wanted, she is left spent on her mattress, the powerful rush still lingering in her trembling body.

She flips onto her back, quickly pulling her bottoms back up onto her hips. In her drunken stupor, her earbuds fell out, and she can vaguely hear Tango’s praises. She picks her phone back up, eyes straining under the bright light, and closes out of the audio.

Her head is light, foggy with the residual high. A dazed smile flickers over her lips, exhaustion settling deep in her bones, finally satiated by her orgasm.

She scrolls through his account once again, this time reading through some of his other posts, like links to playlists and cute stories. Suddenly, the little message icon in the corner looks so appealing, teasing and taunting. Perhaps, she’s feeling a little giddy from her high or maybe it’s from the exhaustion, but she can’t seem to find a reason to not do it.

She sends him a message.

Meanwhile, Harry stares at the blinking cursor petulantly. It taunts him amidst a sea of white, a blank canvas in what should have been a completed midterm paper that’s due in a couple of days. His eyes sink closed, and he starts to drift off, only waking when his hand slips from his cheek, knocking his glasses askew. An old sitcom plays in the background, the canned laughter providing a break in the silence every five seconds. He sighs for the billionth time that evening, struggling to find motivation to even think at this point.

His phone dings, and he happily divulges the distraction, his brows furrowing as he reads a direct message from a user called honeyhi. He’s used to getting comments on his post, with the occasional direct message (which he usually deletes instantly because of poor past experiences), and now, he usually doesn’t think much of them. He isn’t doing it to gain anything from anyone. He just wants to put his thoughts out there, and it’s just an added bonus to get validation from beautiful people.

She doesn’t have a profile picture, not uncommon on that corner of the web, especially since his posts aren’t a lot of people’s taste. He wouldn’t usually indulge in them, deleting them usually instantly, but something compels him to open her message.

Not to be too forward, but I had the best orgasm of my life, listening to your audios. I’ve listened to your audios for a long time, and honestly, listening to you has become the highlight of my evenings ;)

Honey, you have no idea what that means to me.

Truly, his heart swells at her sweet words. It’s nice to get complimented on something you put so much effort into. He bares himself for strangers, expressing such an intimate part of himself for their shared pleasure, and it feels reassuring to get compliments.

I mean it. Also, Tango in the Night is arguably one of Fleetwood Mac’s best albums. Definitely top three.

Most people assume it’s a sex thing.

I wonder why.

He laughs a little at the dry comment.

So, what are the other two in your top three albums?

Pre or post Stevie Nicks?

Post, of course. What kind of question is that?

That was a test. You passed. I think we’ll get along just fine, Tango.

I think so, too, Honey.

—

Y/N rushes past the postman, nearly toppling over when her bag shifts slightly on her arm, her thick binders peek out of the top and dig into her arm. Her hand furiously slaps the elevator button, and she stands impatiently, her dangling keys shaking at her hip. The doors tremble as the weight teeters down to the main floor, far too slowly in her opinion. For a moment, she considers just running up the three flights of stairs to her floor, but that feels a little too eager.

She and Tango have their weekly phone call tonight, and her classes ran long today; that coupled with the stand-still traffic made her more anxious than usual to get home. She always calls first, since her schedule is the most complicated, and she’ll feel absolutely awful if she was late for their call. She feels silly getting worked up over such a small thing, but their friendship progressed beyond the occasional messages in the past month, and she honestly looks forward to their weekly talks. Tango is such a beautiful and humble person, and he is such a stable place of comfort. She knows that he will be understanding and have an independent, secondary perspective on any situation.

He is someone she can rely on for just about anything.

The bell dings above her, and the elevator doors finally part. After barreling inside, she sinks against the railing, glancing at the time, which is still just before her usual calling time. She sighs sharply when the doors begin to close, relief tugging on her shoulders.

However, a hand pushes through the lift’s doors before they can shut, and she bites back an irritated groan; she probably could have made it to her apartment by now if she had ran up the stairs. The man slides in and gives her a grateful nod, accompanied by a small smile. Much to her delight, he presses the ‘close door’ button quickly, and they’re met with no interruptions this time. It’s a quiet ride, despite her nervous feet tapping, and he taps away on his phone,

She admires him out of the corner of her eye, forgetting momentarily about her anxiety. Half of his hair is pulled back in a small bun, exposing the darker locks underneath, and a bandana pushes back the frizzy flyaways that would normally frame his face. The thick strands curl slightly at the ends; there’s one tight coil that she wants to tug on. She could easily become enamored with him, with his pretty green eyes and day-old stubble. His bag has H.E.S embroidered on the bottom corner. A coral colored, gem necklace rests beautifully on his tanned chest, which is mostly covered by a near see-through white top, covered with a baggy, gingham jumper.

After living in the building for two years, they have run into one another on several occasions but have never really spoken. He lives on the second floor, and he goes to the university as well.

When he leaves, after offering another nod and quick smile, she calls Tango. He answers after the second ring.

“Hey, sweets,” he grumbles, not as chipper as his usual self. Her heart sinks a little. He had his midterms last week, and she can only assume that the results are not what he had hoped.

“Oh, no,” she says. “What happened?”

“‘S nothin’,” he insists, but she can hear the irritation in his voice. “‘M jus’ getting myself worked up over nothin’. How was your day?”

Clearly not wanting to talk, he changes the subject, which is something Y/N has grown used to over the past few months. He doesn’t like to vent when he’s too upset because he’s afraid of lashing out and taking his aggression out on her. Thankfully, she has also learned how to distract him. Usually, his annoyance melts away within minutes, and he is his usual, bubbly self again.

“Well, let me tell you, I nearly killed the postman today, and someone nearly hit my car today.”

“What?” He asks incredulously. “Please, elaborate.”

And so, she does.

A couple hours later, Y/N’s in her kitchen, making avocado and tomato toast for the fifth time this week. Her roommate is gone for the weekend, thankfully, which means she can get more stuff done without interruptions (and she can talk to Tango for as long as she wants without getting interrogated about it). His mood had improved significantly after she was able to make him laugh at her own expense (he especially liked the story about how she grabbed her iced coffee too quickly this morning and spilled it all over the barista’s hand).

“I have a question,” he says quickly, as if he wouldn’t have the courage to ask if he held onto it for a moment longer.

“Okay,” she says slowly, almost fearful at the sudden change of tone in his voice.

“Would you be able to listen to something I recorded the other day?” He giggles nervously. “I dunno. I just feel a little,” he makes a little noise, “off about it.”

Stunned, she stares at her phone, the seconds ticking by before her very eyes, and despite the fact that the only reason why they know each other is because she listened to his audios, she’s a little taken aback by the question. Before she knows it, too much time has passed for her to brush off as anything but bewilderment. She stutters.

“I—uh—sure?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“No, I am.” Stubborn and not willing to back down, she digs herself a deeper hole, despite the odd feeling growing in her stomach. “Yes, I will listen to it for you.”

“Okay, then,” he says breathlessly. “I’ll send it to you.”

Neither know what to say now. Conversation usually came easy to them, so it feels so strange to be stuck in such an uncomfortable silence. Now, she’s gone and ruined everything because of her hesitation. Why did she even hesitate? There’s no reason to be embarrassed. They’re both very open, sexual people, and it’s nothing to get so worked up over. Maybe, it’s the fact that it’s him, and she knows him so well now. Compared to before, when he was just some stranger on the internet, she knows his likes, dislikes; hell, she has even spoken to his cat, and it feels wrong because he is her friend, and that’s not what friends are supposed to do.

“It’s not weird. Is it?” He asks shyly.

“Of course not.” She says it a little too quickly. Admittedly, it feels a little weird, now that she thinks about it. It would be like walking in on your friend having sex. Then again, the only reason why they really know each other is because she listened to his audios (which is basically him jerking off to his dirty thoughts). However, it’s not an aspect they spoke about too often, usually after a couple of drinks. Their friendship, despite how it began, is purely innocent. They were each other’s comfort person; they were there to vent, laugh, and talk with. Neither ever hinted toward anything different, other than the occasional, playful flirting.

“No, I’ll listen to it for you. What are friends for?”

She doesn’t know why her heart is beating so fast.

“Thank you,” he says.

“So,” she says, “do you want me to listen to it now?”

“Eager, are we?” He hums teasingly.

“Shut up,” she scoffs.

“I mean, if you wanted to hear some dirty talk, all you had to do was ask.”

“Please, stop talking.”

“Y’know I’m always down to clown.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

True to her words, she doesn’t wait for him to answer before she ends the call.

Her phone dings a second later with the link along with another cheeky message. The link is to a private web upload platform, and she feels special for a moment. She wonders if she should just listen to it while eating her toast and go about her usual routine, or if she should do what she usually does when listening to his audios. Is that what he would want, though? Would it make him feel uncomfortable? Is it more weird to just listen to him moan in her ear while doing mundane tasks around the house?

Granted, they have had some conversations about sex and the like, but this feels so much more intimate, especially because he knows that she’s going to listen to him jerk off, not to even mention the obscene things that come from his mouth.

What does it mean for their friendship? Perhaps, it’s not even meant to mean anything, just a sincere favor asked between two friends. Maybe, it’s meant to be a step toward something more on his part. Is that even what she wants?

She brushes off that thought quickly, as she has for months, because deep down, she knows it would just end up in disappointment.

Oh, what a mess.

She’s headed on a downward spiral that has no chance of stopping unless it’s hit by a freight train to hell.

She opts to forgetting her toast and slips into her bedroom, falling onto her blankets giddily. She presses play on the audio, her heart racing as it loads, and leaves her phone face down next to her ear, eyes closing to fully immerse herself, trying to ignore her anxiety.

“Hello,” he says slowly, almost shyly, and it feels like one of their late nights again, with him talking through her phone and her cuddled in bed, listening eagerly. “I’ve just gotten home, but I’ve been thinkin’ about this all day. Couldn’t go to sleep before gettin’ it out there, y’know.” He giggles, a pretty little noise she’s heard many times now. He laughs a lot, sometimes at himself, but mostly in response to her. He even laughs at her corny, little puns, which she appreciated.

“And ‘m really hard right now, so that doesn’t help either. I haven’t really been able to come in the past two weeks. Been too busy with… life, I guess. But a friend of mine talked to me about the world of BDSM. She’s a kinky little shit.”

Y/N’s heart lurches, stomach twisting with an unrecognizable feeling, knowing that the certain friend he is talking about is her. She remembers the conversation well, even though she was a little tipsy and very high, mostly because it was also the first time they had actually spoken on the phone, and it began as it normally does, about mundane things that happened that week. Somehow, the conversation shifted to kinks, and she told him that she wouldn’t be opposed to more sinful acts in the bedroom, most of which her previous partners had not indulged.

“I’m pretty vanilla, I guess. I just love to love people. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. I’ve never really been into that sort of thing, but now, I can’t stop thinking about it, and I’ve been kinda into some dark, dom stuff lately,” he admits slowly. “Dark for me, at least, which, again, doesn’t say much.” There’s another laugh, radiant and delicate.

“I dunno why, but I’ve been fantasizing about taking you into our room. A little lackluster, I know, but I’m not into the dark, dingy places, like those sex dungeons they have in the movies, where there’s lots of leather, red lights, music, quite the ambience.” He stops suddenly, and she could imagine his lips pursing to cease his ramblings. She wishes he wouldn’t do that so much; she wishes that he wouldn’t doubt himself and his beautiful way with words. If only he could be as confident in himself as she is in him.

“I just want to lay you down on our bed with our fluffy blankets pushed off to the side. Then, if either of us need to take a moment or stop, we can.” Her heart swells a little at his words. Even though he’s trying to talk about, in his words, “dark, dom stuff”, he is still so sweet and considerate, and she can’t help but soften. He trails off.

Faintly, she can hear him yank his belt from the loops, and it’s, honestly, one of the hottest things she has ever heard; the teasing glimpse of what could come far more erotic than anything any of her other partners could do. She could only imagine what it would feel like to have him in front of her, shirtless with his pants low on his hips; maybe he would be wearing the same floral pants he is in his profile picture, the ones that are unbelievably tight. She would be splayed on the bed, just observing this beauty of a man, waiting patiently for him to come and ravish her.

She’s sure that his tattoos cover more than just his arms, but how many more is a question that haunts her. The thought of a big tattoo on his thigh that she can grind on while he moans about how much of a good girl she is has led to many obscene dreams. She imagines black images carved into his chest, perhaps a trail of floating rose petals from his collar bone to his peck or a hellish looking snake wrapped around his waist. More vividly, she envisions a bold tattoo just beneath his belly button, one that she would scratch at while he violently pounded into her, one that she would kiss and lick before she would take him in her mouth.

Oh, what she would do to be able to feel his skin on hers.

She dips her hand beneath the band of her shorts out of habit, toying with the silky material of her panties. She tries not to think too much about her feelings, fearing it would deepen the ache in her heart.

“Anyway, you’d be on the bed,” he says, his usual slow, stifling voice pulling her deeper into the fantasy, “naked, on your knees with your pretty pussy facing me. You’re all tied up, starting at your wrists and ankles, and there would be a pretty knot down your spine that I can grab while I fuck you from behind.”

Her cunt throbs at the sudden turn. She could only imagine: her face pressed into the pillows, choking on the sheets, her muscles tight, aching beneath the restraints, and her voice raw, sobbing from overstimulation. Exhausted and wanton, she would take anything that he would be willing to give her. He would shove her face into the mattress, mounting her, and he would tug on the rope until it felt like it would permanently embedded in her wet skin, telling her how much of a good little slut she is, taking him so well.

She doesn't know why she’s drawn to rope play; perhaps, it’s all a part of the subtle nuances of the sex, the intimacy of tying the complex binds around your partner and the intricacies of sensory manipulation with such overwhelming stimulation. It’s so much more than just being bound while fucking. There is such a deep reliance on the other person to understand your body, your limits, your needs. It’s about trust and vulnerability. She thinks of it in such a melodic and romantic way; it must have resonated with Tango.

“Or I’d tie your arms to your legs, keeping you spread open for me on your back, with knots around your belly, the lead falling between your tits.” Her eyes flutter closed. While rope play is something that she has always wanted to try but never felt comfortable enough with another person to act on it. He would be different though. She cups her pussy, languidly running her fingers through her wet folds, feeling the arousal slip down her skin before settling on her sheets.

She pinches her clit, and her legs immediately jerk around her arm. Feeling far too sensitive for that type of stimulation, she simply strokes through her lips, focusing her ministrations on the delicate inside, close to her sopping entrance, enjoying the slow build.

“Then, I could hold onto your neck while I fuck you, and I like being able to see your face, to see how good I’m making you feel, to see tears of pleasure run down your pretty face. You could suck on my fingers while I fuck you, deep and hard. D’ya wanna choke on my fingers, pretty?”

She wants absolutely nothing more. She would gladly suck on his fingers if it meant that she could see the look of awe in his eyes, lust darkening his features when she bites teasingly on his nail.

“But if you’re on your knees, I could watch you in the mirror and still see your face. From behind, I can see your pretty, tight pussy take my cock.” He whimpers. “I haven’t decided which I would rather have.”

She can’t decide, either.

Then again, they could always have both.

“Of course, I wouldn’t give you my cock that easily. No, you’re going to be crying for me, begging for me to fuck you, and I dunno if I would fuck you right away or make you beg for it. I think for the first bit, after you’re all tied up for me, I’ll tease you, just barely touching you, pulling on the lead, the ropes tightening around your aching body. I think your tits would look so pretty all tied up f’me, babylove.

“When you’ve finally had enough, crying for me to stuff you full of my cock, I’d let you come, but I’d only use my fingers, never giving you what you really want. Maybe I’ll put a little vibrator on your clit and leave you there, having you come again and again until it hurts. I’d have you keep your panties on, of course. Don’t want you making a mess of the sheets, and then, when I finally give you my cock, I’ll put them in your mouth to keep you quiet, and so you can taste yourself.”

His moans are in the forefront in his sensual song, mixed amongst a symphony of bed and friction sounds. She matches his pace, flicking her wrist in time with the sound of him working his wet cock. She massages the entirety of her pussy, messily rubbing her fingers from the tip of her poor, swollen clit to her throbbing opening.

“Fuck, babylove, you’d be so good f’me, taking my cock so deep in your pussy. Would you cry f’me, pretty? Cry for daddy to fuck you into the mattress.” A rumbling groan finally breaks free, and she is so close to falling apart, her high festering into her muscles, burning through her nerves; her skin feels hot to the touch. She struggles to breathe, but she doesn't yearn for air as much as she does her end. Tears in her eyes, she clutches onto her blanket, tugging it in her mouth to keep from crying too loudly. She sobs, feeling a familiar tightness in her body, just beyond her grasp. Her hand still moves over her pussy, arousal seeping through trembling fingers, but she can’t reach her peak with such light, varied stimulation, her hips buckling.

“My pretty rope bunny,” he mutters. He’s desperate, truly just rambling on and on about anything that comes to mind. “My pretty honey,” he whimpers, almost inaudibly, “honey, honey.”

For a second, she thinks of the times that word has passed through his lips in less sinful situations, a slow, lulling honey when he’s trying to get her attention, sweet and innocent. That’s his special name for her, and she wonders if, possibly, he thinks about her in the same way she does, if he wishes to be with her in such an intimate way, just as she does. She thinks, incredulously, that maybe she isn’t overanalyzing the situation.

His bed squeaks faintly in the background, just barely heard over his withering voice. She can only begin to imagine what he looks like in that moment, legs tense, feet digging into the mattress, his hips thrusting to fuck himself into his fist. The head of his cock would peek through the top of his fist as he coerced his release free. She wishes she could see what he looks like when he comes, when he finally reaches his most euphoric moment. It’s such a primal thing to witness, to see someone liberated of all inhibitions, to observe them completely succumbing to their instincts. It’s such a beautiful thing to see someone acquiesce control and thrive so harmoniously with their body.

“I wanna wrap my belt around your throat.” He swallows thickly. She whines along with him. Perhaps, she’s just fooling herself, but she can swear that she could almost hear the sound of a leather belt squeezing in his fist. A pitiful pool of wetness slips between her ass cheeks.

“My cock hurts just thinking about how you’d sound.” He moans, mimicking the desperate heaves that would undoubtedly slip through her lips as he pulls his belt tightly around her throat. “Then, when you’re bratty, I can just wrap my hand around the belt and make it tighter.

“Please,” he mocks weakly, “please, sir, I’ll be good. But you’re just saying that to get what you want. You’re just a naughty, little slut aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she returns weakly.

“Maybe, I could get you a collar and pull you around with that. Would you like that?” He hums. “Of course, you would. You’re my pretty, little bunny.”

In any other instance, she would feel humiliated to be so aroused at being so weak and submissive to another, but he could convince her to do anything at this point. She’s close, toes curling and muscles tightening, and she waits for his familiar profession that he is also near the edge, but the silence that follows is deafening, a disappointing resolution to an intense narrative. It makes her stop completely, wet hand flipping her phone over to see that, indeed, she had listened to all of the audio. It knocks the air from her lungs when she realizes that that was it. She isn’t going to hear his cute little whimpers as he comes nor his sweet aftercare.

Frustrated from her ruined orgasm, she calls him instantly, and he picks up after the fourth ring this time, as if he knows that she is this needy and frustrated. She doesn’t give him the chance to greet her.

“That couldn’t have been all of it.”

“Well, hello to you, too—”

“I didn’t get to hear you come.”

“Is that what you wanna hear, honey?”

“Well, yeah, I always come with—” She stops before she says something she’ll regret, but by the sound of his laughter, it’s already too late. She wants to hide away in embarrassment.

“It’s only partially finished. I thought I told you that.” She can hear the teasing smirk he surely has plastered on his face, the cheeky bastard. “I just wanted to hear what you thought so far before I finished it. There’s no point in finishing something that I already feel isn’t worth the time.”

“Well, then,” she stutters quickly, “How does it end?”

“How do you think it should end?”

There’s a certainty in his words, as if he has already accepted her as a lover, and she knows that he is giving her the opportunity to initiate the next step. Fear squeezes her chest, and for a second, she worries that she isn’t brave enough to follow through. Every fiber of her being is pleading with her to just take that risk, but another, more rational side of her, is saying it’s better to say a quick I don’t know, and they would move on as normal.

“Where would you come?”

Oh, it feels so filthy to ask that, but it’s so relieving to hear the hum of approval that passes through his lips.

Her heart races, not like before; this is exciting and new and arousing, and it feels wrong. She doesn’t even know what he looks like; hell, she doesn’t even know his real name, and she’s so fucking ready and willing to give herself to him. There’s just so many reasons to not pursue him. She feels ashamed, almost, that she is weak for a man she knows nothing about.

“Hmm, that’s a good question. Where would you like me to come?”

But how can she not get weak when he asks her things like that?

Shivers bloom on her skin in sunflower blossoms. She knows what he wants to hear, and usually, she would tease him, telling him that he didn’t care if he even came or not, but the throbbing between her legs is relentless, and she’s just lust-drunk that she’ll say just about anything to get what she needs. She begins rubbing herself again, focusing solely on her clit this time instead of the entirety of her pussy in the palm of her hand. Breathing out shakily, she answers honestly.

“Everywhere.”

He moans, and she knows that was the right answer.

“Everywhere? Such a greedy girl. You want me to come down your throat? You wanna taste it? Maybe, I’ll have you choke on my cock, fuck y’face until you’re crying.”

After he was done fucking her, she’s sure that he would yank her up either by the rope around her breasts or by the belt around her neck (she can’t decide which yet) and put his cock by her mouth, rubbing himself over her lips and chin, but never quite pushing past the barrier of her lips; no, she would be the one to open her sweet mouth for him, her jaw lax and tongue wet as she takes everything he’d give her.

God, yes, she wants to taste him. She wants him to use her in every possible, degrading way: to use her mouth while she tied up, under his mercy, to fuck her face until she has tears dripping down her cheeks, wetting her heaving chest, to come down her throat until she’s choking on him, but he would pinch her nose and make her taste it until her vision was blurry.

“You’d take it all, babylove. Won’t you?”

He asks so innocently, his deep voice having a soft twinge, but she knows that it’s not optional, not that she would choose otherwise. She would greedily lap at his cum and drink it all, proudly showing off her empty mouth when she’s done. Maybe, he would insist that she keep it in her mouth and pull her into a wet, heated kiss, prying her lips apart so he can taste himself on her tongue.

“I could make a mess on your belly or your tits, and then, I could lick you clean. Or I could mark up your thighs and watch it drip onto the sheets.”

The thought of him marking her with his come is nearly enough for her to reach her peak. A voice in the back of her head chastises her for being so greedy; this is something she has fantasized about since they started talking, and it’s going to be over before it can even begin at this rate. She needs to distract herself, to focus on anything other than the painful throbbing between her legs.

“Or I could come inside you.”

That’s the last thing she needed to hear.

Only because it makes a thick bead of arousal seep into her sheets. It makes her finally give in and sink two fingers inside herself, and fuck, she’s so wet and swollen and pliable. She sobs, truly biting back even louder cries behind gritted teeth. She curses again and again at the feeling coursing through her veins, heat spreading in her belly as her hips frantically move against her ministrations.

“By the sound of that moan, I think that’s definitely preferred. Such a filthy girl. Y’want me to fill your belly? Want me to mark you as mine?”

She just knows that he could fill her to the brim, but he would want to prolong the experience as much as possible, teasing her with his cock and coaxing her to beg for his cum.

She could just imagine the determined look in his eyes, so close to coming, but he would pull out, just barely teasing her trembling entrance with his twitching cock. He wouldn’t move, and when she would beg for him to put it back in and just fuck her until she couldn’t breath, he would say very simply: if y’want my cum so bad, put my cock back inside.

God, his face would be gleaming with this power, satisfied with seeing her so needy for his cum. Shamefully, she would put one of her hands on his hip while the other grasps his cock, pushing on him until he sinks entirely inside her once again, but he still wouldn’t move, simply filling her, the both of them twitching with arousal. He would demand that she make him come if she wants it so bad, as if it's a gift from the heavens.

“Are you touching yourself?” He asks, and only then does she realize that she was drowning in her fantasy; the sudden change makes her stop rubbing herself, her vision hazy. She parts her lips with wet fingers, slipping back down to her entrance, gently prodding inside until that euphoria builds once again.

“Yes,” she admits shamefully. “‘M so fucking wet for you.”

“Dirty little slut,” he says sharply. He has no room to judge, especially since she can hear the all-too-familiar sounds to him jerking his cock, wet sounds of his fist passing over the thick head echoing in her empty room. She is near tears at this point, so needy and high and horny, but she wants to make this last.

“Would you let me come? Please, can I come?”

It’s his turn to moan with approval, and she feels proud. His heavy breathing in time with hers, he seems to be lost in pleasure, voice hitching as he struggles to find words. Her orgasm swells to a near crest once again, but she wants to hear him finish. At this point, she knows what it sounds like, from the frantic ramblings to the guttural moans, and he’s not quite there yet.

“Do you think you deserve to come, honey? You think you’ve been a good girl f’me?”

“Yes, I’m a good girl—fuck—please, please, I need to come.” She stumbles through her words, what little power she held in her withering grasp deflating instantly from his words.

“I dunno, I think you’re a brat who just wants to get off.”

It’s painful how much his words impact her, volatile muscles spasming while she staves of hee end. She whimpers, sinking further in her headspace; she feels a cloud settle in her vision (or perhaps those are tears), overwhelming yet freeing.

“No, I’m your good girl,” she insists.

“I think you’ll have to prove it to me, honey,” he replies slyly. “I don’t think I’ll let you come quickly. I want you to beg for it. Can you do that f’me, babylove? Beg me to come.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” she says. “Please, please, I need it. Please, let me come.”

“You can do better than that,” he says, voice cracking. Their harmonious sounds of excitement drive both of them closer to their orgasms.

“Oh, god—please, I—fuck—I need it so bad. ‘M so close, please.” She can barely speak coherently. Chills wrack her sore body, waves of throbbing pleasure threatening to break her. She wanted—no, needed—him to finish.

“Come f’me, Honey,” he says. “You’re my good girl, so good f’me. C’mon, babylove, come with me.”

She does. With ears ringing and eyes closing, she comes until her pussy aches. It feels never ending, euphoria consuming every part of her sweat-laden flesh, chilling and fiery, for hours—or perhaps only seconds. She can’t tell.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her vision blurry. Her body trembles with residual aftershocks of her intense orgasm. She lays spread open on her bed, her pussy still too sensitive to close her legs entirely.

“Thank you for letting me come.” In her daze, her limbs fall away limply. All she can do is exist at this moment. She vaguely wonders if he finished with her, the thought of his deep moans fueling another fire. A part of her is disappointed that she wasn't present enough to listen to him, but another part knows that more opportunities will come.

“You’re so welcome, honey,” he says sweetly. “I think we both really needed that today.”

She hums, still recovering from such a powerful end. She slowly regains her breathing.

“I guess I should be thanking you because that’s one of the best orgasms I’ve ever had,” he says. She laughs.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious. Nearly gave myself a pearl necklace.”

And just like that, everything continues as normal. Both know that the other is naked and satiated, but neither feels uncomfortable with the fact. If anything, it makes things relieved, open, or comfortable. They’re both giggly in the golden after-glow.

“What does this mean for us, Honey?”

As, yes, the dreaded ‘talk’. Fear immediately spikes in her veins, and she struggles to find her words. Before she can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I really like talking with you, and I don’t want this to make things weird, but I meant what I said earlier. That was probably one of the best orgasms of my life, and I don’t think that I could live without your pretty little moans now that I’ve heard them. Maybe, we can do that again. We don’t have to put a label on it or anything, if you don’t want to.”

Her heart sinks. Is that all that he wants?

“Right, it doesn’t have to be anything serious, just us having some stress relief.” Her words are dry and forced, feeling like bile in her mouth. She grits her teeth. What the hell had she just gotten herself into?

“Hey, uh, it’s late, and I have to wake up early tomorrow. Same time next week?”

She hopes that he doesn’t think that she regrets what they did, and she hopes he doesn’t think too much into her abrupt ending of the call. It’s not a total lie; she does have work early tomorrow morning, but she has had more than a few days where she was running on two hours of sleep and a miracle. She just wants to get off the phone before he hears the contemplation in her voice.

“You think I can wait a week after that? You have too much faith in me.”

“I think you’ll survive, babe,” she says.

“Good night, babylove.”

“Good night.”

She falls asleep quickly after, dreaming of the nameless, faceless man who she bares her soul to.

Later that night, as Harry edits the finally finished audio, he thinks back to Honey and their mutual pleasure, feeling like an absolute idiot for saying that it was nothing serious. He wasn’t expecting her to agree so emphatically, so quickly.

Although, what had he expected? He was the one who suggested it. No matter, he can’t have a relationship right now, especially a long distance one. He would just end up getting hurt, but he likes her too much to stop talking to her completely. He finally took their relationship further even if it won’t lead to anything more.

—

“Are you ready to admit defeat?”

Y/N lets out a breathy laugh, despite her current situation, her hand rubbing leisure circles on her already sensitive clit, which still throbs from her first orgasm of the night. Tango murmurs praise in her humming ears.

She’s not really sure what they are, and she doesn’t want to think about it. It would only complicate things more.

Friends? Definitely.

Well, maybe not definitely, since she doesn’t even know his name, but what other word could she use to define their relationship? What sort of friends would say such filthy things to each other? Why would he call her ‘my honey’ so emphatically if they were ‘just friends’? Too afraid of misinterpreting his intentions and embarrassing herself, she doesn’t mention anything, and he never does either, but it keeps her awake at night, wondering what they could be if she could just put her feelings to words.

This would be the second hour of their phone call, and it only took them ten minutes for the conversation to turn into one of their “stress relieving sessions”. Both of them had a terrible day; she was late for the first day at her new job (they were understanding given the circumstances, but it still left a sour taste in her mouth), and he slept through an exam. She eased him into a submissive headspace quickly, babbling about what a good boy he is and how proud she is of him. Within minutes, he came, and she whispered all the filthy things she wanted to do to him until he was completely spent, his cock milked of all remnants of his seed, twitching and throbbing with empty orgasms.

He easily fell into the dominant headspace after his quick high, and he was adamant that he could make her come more than any of her other partners, even without him truly there. She knows that he can; hell, she has touched herself to his voice more times than she could count, but she likes teasing him, hearing him get all riled up and stubborn.

“Are you gonna come again, honey?”

“Nope,” she breathes, “Not even a little close.”

“You’re obviously lying or not trying,” he says sharply, and a sense of pride swells in her chest at her ability to get a rise out of him without even trying. She smirks.

“What are you gonna do? Punish me?”

“I might have to.”

She’s sure he would, too, but it would be in the most pleasurable way possible, with his mouth and fingers and cock stimulating her until she comes so many times she can’t take anymore. Her fingers trace her most intimate area, nails scraping against her quivering core. She sinks two fingers inside, feeling her sopping pussy swallow them easily, adjusting quickly and craving more. She tries to find that sweet, spongy spot inside her, but she can’t seem to reach it.

“Wish it was your fingers,” she mumbles, her movements certain and even, but it’s never enough for her greedy body.

“Yeah, lovie?” He croons, “they’d be so big in your tight little pussy.” She hums, wishing that he was there to stuff her in every way possible.

“Would you wear your rings?”

“For you? Of course.” Her eyes roll back at the thought; his thick fingers could tear her at the seams, and with the added texture of his rings, she would be coming within seconds. Her clit throbs, blood rushing in time with her racing heart, and she massages it harder, wanton and waiting for yet another release. “C’mon, babylove, Come for me. Make me proud,” he coaxes. His words make her fall over that edge once more, thighs shaking and pussy weeping. She’s sure there’s a creamy stain beneath her, seeping into her wet skin.

“Again,” he demands. She thinks she may break. “Keep going, babylove. Where’s that toy you told me about?”

He knows that she won’t be able to come much longer on her own, with the pain overwhelming the pleasure.

“It’s so far away,” she whines.

“Go grab it, love,��

Her legs tremble as she twists around, reaching blindly into her bedside drawer. She can’t close her legs too much without getting overstimulated; her legs ache and twitch. Once the toy is situated just above her clit, she ticks it on. Her body reacts immediately, limbs jolting about, hips ducking away, and her voice catching. Gasping, she almost wants to take the toy away, the stimulation being far too much.

He thinks differently.

“Turn it up higher, lovie,” he says so sweetly. Her chest feels like it could almost collapse into itself. Still dizzy from her orgasm, she’s not sure if she can take it, her body fighting against her. She wants to beg and plead for something, but she doesn’t even know what for. Is it for yet another orgasm that will surely be more powerful that any other? Or is it for the burning at every nerve ending to stop?

“I dunno—”

“You can take it, such a good little bunny for me.”

The vibrator ticks to the next setting, a sharp, persistent sound echoes in her empty room, followed by an even louder shout. She has not control anymore. Thankfully, she’s home alone or else it would be an awkward morning with her roommate listening to her cries of pleasure well into the night. Her hand shakes, but she presses the head of the toy harder to her clit. She lets out a guttural groan, feeling euphoria seep from every pore.

“There it is,” he moans, breathing growing ragged. He’s surely jerking himself off, basking in the pleasure with her, and it makes her arousal burn deeper. She wants to put on a show for him, to egg him on and make him feel as good as he makes her feel.

“There’s my pretty girl. Let me hear you, baby.”

She can barely squeeze out a few breathless whimpers from her chest, hedonistic—no, animalistic—sobs crash through her. Pain and pleasure fight for control, just as her mind and body do.

“Feel good?”

“Yes,” she says weakly. “Feels so good.”

She comes quickly with a silent cry, her lips parted and face scrunched. Saliva slips from her open mouth, and she is unable to wipe it away, lewdly dripping down her chin to her neck before finding it’s place on her dirtied sjeets. The recovery period is quicker this time; it’s either that or her body is becoming numb to anything but pleasure. It feels like it’s never ending with the vibrator still nestled tightly to her puffy cilt. Her lips are surely swollen now too, tender from too many orgasms, yet still sopping with arousal.

“Don’t take it away,” he says, “You got another one in ya. You can do it, lovie.”

His voice is muffled beneath blankets where her phone lies, lost in her ravenous bouts of pleasure, limbs writhing and tossing. Her body aches when she twists to put it back up by her ear to hear him more clearly, muscles tight from her previous orgasms. Legs closing slightly, she whines when the toy presses harder against her clit, hips ducking away from the strong vibrations, eyes fluttering closed. Her phone falls out of her grasp once more, but the light illuminates the dark room, casting a warm glow.

“Please—”

She’s not really sure what she’s begging for; it just slips out, a weak plea. Perhaps, she just wants him to be there instead of on the other end of a phone call, in some faraway place she doesn’t even know. The room would feel so much warmer with him here, her back pressed to his chest, their sweat mingling. Maybe he would wear those pretty lace stockings he showed her a picture of once, the glittery fabric coarse against her skin as he teases his toes along her leg, keeping them spread. His freckled and inked arms wrapped tightly around her middle, paying special attention to her tummy, he would whisper sweet things in her ear and press on the area right below her belly button, telling her of how he wants to grind his pretty cock against her soft middle until she is sticky with his precum, how he can fuck himself that deep inside her. She would feel him for days after.

“I know it hurts, baby, but just one more, then you can go to bed.”

It sounds so nice, the thought of sinking into her pillows for a good night's rest, but an orgasm sounds even better, one leaving her spent and satiated and sleepy.

“Such a good girl f’me.”

As much as she wants to, the sensitivity becoming nearly unbearable, she can’t stop; she wants to make him proud, to prove to him that she’s his good girl who can take it. Even though he’s not truly there with her to hold her and make sure she comes, she still wants to do as he says. Her legs tremble, threatening to close.

She squeaks when the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive angle on her clit, and she bites into her pillow to keep from crying out. Her hips work desperately, to reach that high for the last time, just one more, like an addict itching for one more hit. It’s her fourth orgasm within ten minutes, and this might just be her breaking point.

“I dunno if I can.” Her words slur, and she can feel spit dripping down her puckered lips. She suddenly wishes he was there to wipe it away, thumb soft and subtle against her skin, lingering on her puffy lips.

“One more, babylove,” he insists. “Just one more. You’re doing so well.” She bites back a mangled cry, eyes squeezing shut, her thoughts lost in a dark chaos. His voice is the only anchor amidst a dizzying high, coaxing her through her stupor with sweet words.

“My pretty girl, my good fucking girl, taking it so well.” His gravelly voice pulls her from drowning, his words gritty from his clenched jaw. “You’re not hurting too much, are ya?”

His deep voice is soft, lilting with a tender care she needs. She could simply melt, blanketed in the warmth of his rich voice.

“A little,” she admits, a dull ache in her belly when she clenches too tightly. “But it feels so good.”

The vibrations pulse through her body, leaving her voice shaky, and she shifts slightly, hips digging into the mattress. It settles on the underside of her clit, and it’s so close to that one spot, until finally—there, there, there—right there. She groans, low and guttural, drawn out from the depths of her chest, animalistic almost. Her body burns and trembles for a second before yet another strong, unrelenting wave drowns her. Every muscle in her body tenses as the head of the vibrator finds the one tender spot on her clit, catching at just the right angle that leaves her eyes teary, world dizzy. She knows it’ll be painful if she doesn’t pull away, a harsh orgasm building, but she can’t stop, not with him listening to her, waiting for her final bitter end.

She’s doing so good for him, such a good bunny. She trembles in the wake of such a violent euphoria, weak moans slipping in time with her belated breathing. It passes through in waves, the pain, a bittersweet burning welling deep inside her, but a different ache persists, one that leaves her yearning for more, one that makes her dig her feet into the mattress and press herself harder on the toy. Her toes curl, and her back arches, free hand twisting the sheets.

He hums appreciatively.

“My bunny likes it when it hurts. Doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” she sobs, “I want it to hurt.” Hips shuttering away from the relentless vibrator, Y/N feels her final orgasm build, pain lingering around the edges as her muscles twitch.

“Such a dirty little slut.” Her back arches at his filthy words, arousal pooling beneath her. She could feel it wetting her thighs. “Just f’me, right, honey? Just my pretty slut.”

She comes quickly, eyes rolling back as it overwhelms all of her senses. She feels tense yet relaxed. A broken cry breaks from her swollen lips as she shatters, falling apart for the final time. Her muscles quiver, tiny shocks lingering in the aftermath of so many orgasms in such quick succession. Her limbs ache. Her heart races. Her pussy throbs. She knows that this will be all she can take, her body completely spent. She can’t find the energy to keep her eyes open, and they roll back.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she says, still struggling to find her breath and collect her thoughts, but when she does, a smile breaks her face. She feels everything and nothing all at once, so perfectly numb. She finds herself laughing incredulously because that cocky little bastard was right: he made her come more times than anyone has before. She laughs until tears slip down her warm cheeks.

This is the part where the emotions start to become just as overwhelming as her release. So much sinks in all at once, and she realizes just how alone she is, and she wishes he was here to pull her back down to earth, to hold and to love. She feels deflated. The sexual release is such a rush, but it brings devastating lows. With tears in her eyes, she struggles not to cave into herself.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lies, a sob curling in her lungs, forcing its way out in a blubbering mess. Once the first one escapes, the rest follow easily. She can’t seem to stop, heaving cries wracking her already sore body as she clutches onto her pillow. She fists her phone to her ear in an attempt to be closer to him, but that makes the feeling grow worse, settling to a black hole in her stomach, sucking all euphoria from her. Tears soak into her skin and sink into her ear, muffling his comforting words.

“Let it out, babylove,” he says softly. “I know, I know. I know. Sometimes it can just get really overwhelming.” His words are gentle, just as he is, and maybe that’s what makes this even worse. He is everything she wants. He is just so perfect for her in every way, but he is ao far from her reach. Maybe it would be better if he wasn’t such a good person. Maybe that would make the yearning go away. She’s quiet, slowly breathing through stuttering sniffles.

“Hey,” he says softly, “Go pee and clean yourself up, babe. Know you don’t like feeling all wet down there. It makes your peach all sticky.”

She nods, knowing full well that he can’t see her, but doesn’t move. She honestly doesn’t think she can.

“Go on,” he murmurs when he doesn’t hear the familiar rustling of her sheets. “‘M right here, honey.”

A few more tears squeeze out of her eyes at his words. It makes her whole demeanor crumble once again; she’s upset because he’s not really there, he’s not there to hold her and kiss her and love her, and that’s not fair. She just wants to have him here to tell her that everything will be alright; she wants him to be there to laugh with, to just be with. He is such a good part of her life, but she just wishes that he could physically be there in the way she dreams.

She cleans up quickly, tossing her spent underwear into her dirty laundry. Just as she had suspected, the remnants of her orgasms stained her thighs.

What’s that ache in her chest?

“Good girl, feel better, lovie?”

She nods and whimpers, unable to calm her trembling lips.

“Good, ‘m right here, babylove. Y’did so good, so proud of you.”

She crawls back to bed moments later, shuddering breaths and swollen eyes being the only remnants of her breakdown. She sniffles and wipes her wet eyes with the back of her hand, which smells vaguely of her feminine wipes.

“Sorry, if it was too much,” he says.

“No, no need to apologize,” she says quickly to get rid of any lingering guilt he has. It felt amazing, to be tested just beyond her limits, to be pushed to a shattering breaking point, to trust him to know what she can take. “It was nice. I just sorta—” Her voice breaks. “I dunno. Everything just got a little overwhelming. I think I’m better now.”

“What do you need from me, honey?”

She nearly starts crying again at how sweet he is. She almost could imagine that only a few minutes ago he was calling her his dirty little slut and demanding her to come until she could handle it.

“Just talk to me,” she says.

“So, I saw a couple dogs today,” he begins awkwardly. “Well, I was attacked by two little frenchie’s when I was walking to class, and it completely made my day ten-times better. They were so cute with their chubby little legs.”

He rambles on about his week, and it feels nice and familiar.

She’s nearly asleep when he begins talking about his mother. Apparently, she was visiting him last week, which was nice for about a day; then, he began realizing why he moved away in the first place: she is so smothering.

“And my mum is always nagging me to go out and socialize. She was like,” he breathes in, adjusting his tone to a falsetto. “Harry, you’re never gonna be able to find anyone if you don’t…”

He continues as normal, chattering away in his low, sleepy voice. She doesn’t think he even realizes his slip up, words spluttering out of his mouth so quickly that even he probably couldn’t hear it. She smiles as sleep finally overwhelms her.

Harry.

His name is Harry.

—

#also if this is too niche and it flops lets just forget it happened #okay? okay.#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #ellie writes #ellie writes smut #ellie writes filth #gif not mine #credit to owner

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moonlightshaiku · 10 months

Text

Oops!

Spock x Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: second hand embarrassment, puke

Ao3: N/A

Notes:

I just like the idea of accidentally giving spock a vulcan kiss, okay????

Tag List:

You knew that Mccoy's response of "Well be more social, then," was a result of him being busy. Not paying attention. But, you'd taken it to heart.

Being alone in your room so often had tanked your mental health. Introverted or not, part of "self care" is letting out your thoughts and feelings.

You can't help but think that self care is too complicated. Hygiene in itself is a fifty point list.

The best plan you had was to introduce yourself to someone. That in itself is difficult. There are too many options and techniques.

It was hard when it was just humans—or at least, mainly humans—back on Earth. But in the Enterprise? With even more races and cultures? Squeezed in? Together?

You enter the lift, blandly speaking out your destination. It's only when you notice the shoes next to you, shining, that you realize you have a chance to just— do this. Get it over with.

The anxiety swells in your throat, and you can't help but think it's not worth it. It'll take so much effort, and if you don't say anything, they'll never know.

"Good morning!" You chirp, before you can put to much thought in. It's much more gruff than you meant. You realize, as you swallow, that this is the first time you've spoken today.

You almost wonder if they're going to reply, but then you see a hand.

It barely takes a second to connect the dots. A handshake! Easy.

In your excitement at the ease of this venture, you bring your right hand to meet their left—and—oh.

Wrong hand. Your hands are touching. Theirs is straight, yours across it. Your ring and little finger are touching the side of their hand, your thumb tucked over their's.

You glance up at them, you don't make eye contact.

Your first two fingers presses against their last.

His last. His last two fingers.

He's male.

"Oh sorry, wrong hand!"

A Vulcan male.

He's Spock.

"Oh shit."

You jerk your hand back.

"The crude wording is not needed, Lieutenant-Commander."

"Spocckkk." You draw out through your teeth, voice high pitched.

"Yes?"

The doors open, no one is there.

"I am. Fuck, I am sorry. It wasn't— fuck, sorry."

The door closes. The lift remains still.

"I didn't mean to—" you take a breath. "It wasn't my intention to—" you pause.

His eyebrows raise, your heart beats faster.

Can he report you for harassment over this? It was just a handshake— be pretty fucked up if he could.

It would be pretty fucked up if he couldn't, too. Damn.

He probably should report you.

He won't.

"Kiss you?"

The words feel like bile in your mouth.

Or are you about to puke?

"That's not a question. I did not mean to phrase that as a question." You attempt to repair quickly. "I did not want to kiss you."

Oh that sounds plan rude!

"Or, er— you know what I mean."

You blink at him. How long have you been talking?

"Are you done, Lieutenant-Commander?"

You stay quiet, and after a few moments, you realize that it's a genuine question.

"You can— you can call me Doctor. And yes. Sorry."

He nods. "Doctor. It was a mistake. It is of no consequence, and does not alter my opinion of you."

You nod, anxiety not fading. You do, however, remember to breathe.

"Can I make it up to you?" Is your timid reply. You find that Spocks eyebrows can reach impressive heights.

"I suppose so. However, I do not see a reason that 'making it up to me' is needed."

You let out a breathy chuckle after a long moment of silence, and it does good to ease the tightness in your chest.

"Okay." You breathe. "When... do you have time?"

Spock doesn't take any time to think. "Tonight would be sufficient."

You nod. "My quarters."

He nods.

"Okay, you'll probably have to add another bead, so it'll fit. Let me—" you shift closer to him, taking a look at the bracelet in his hand. "—look at it."

It's only slightly too small for him, now. He'd decided to use the small glass bead in an elaborate pattern of rust, royal blue and copper. You had used the large plastic beads, and jokingly put an S bead on the bracelet. Baby blue.

"I do not see the point in making bracelets, Doctor."

You laugh. He's been happily putting beads on a string. He'd taken around ten minutes just choosing colours.

"Only idea I could come up with, really. Part of human culture."

You lean over, shoulder bumping his. "Okay, that looks good. Can I check it?"

Spock's eyebrow twitches. "Yes. That is agreeable."

"Alrighty." You gently grab each end of his bracelet, and he sticks his hand out. You bring the bracelet up, cupping his wrist like a U.

"Huh." You huff, scooting forward. "Okay, yeah, that's good. Want me to tie it?"

You glance up, making eye contact with Spock. The green of his face makes your eyebrows crease, but his face stays impassive.

He nods.

You promptly begin tying the bracelet, tearing your gaze away from his.

Once you have it double knotted, you reach over to the table, retrieve the scissors, and grab his hand.

Once you've snipped the excess, you hide the knot under a bead.

"Doctor."

You hum. "Yes?"

When looking to Spock, you are met only by his unwavering stare and green cheeks. No words.

Your gaze travels down, your hand holding his.

"Oh fuck me."

"That does seem to be the message you are sending, Doctor."

#star trek spock #spock x reader #tos spock #aos spock #vulcan kiss

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wonjns · 4 months

Text

trails — p.wb drabble

♡ park wonbin x male reader // fluffy smut

kissing wonbin always felt like a dream.

so much so that as soon as his pillowy lips were on yours, even for a chaste peck, you couldn’t help diving into the plush feeling with the utmost want and forgetting the world around you. and every time, without fail, a chuckle would rise from the back of his throat before giving in, allowing you to feel his tongue slide along yours.

it was almost effortless for him to trap you with his little charms. this time all it took was stopping you amongst the group of your peers, the lot of you hiking along the hills, for him to bring to your attention that one of your sneakers was untied.

being the romantic he was, wonbin knelt down before you could respond and took liberty in tying the laces for you. after completing the loops, he beamed the most heart wrenchingly adorable grin up at you, the twinkle in his eyes displaying how unbothered he was that the rest of your group continued hiking without you. in fact he seemed to love the abandonment as you pressed your lips to his in gratitude when he stood.

his hands held the side of your face as he fed deeper into the kiss, enjoying the subtle sounds you made as the loose strings from his bohemian bead bracelet tickled the side of your jaw.

a small eruption set off in your stomach when you felt a low groan reverberate against your lips as you reached up to lace your fingers in wonbin's silky hair, feeling along his nape as much as you could. the sound of your shared giggles rivaled the ambience of your puffy lips smacking along to the tune of nature around you.

you reveled in the feeling of wonbin's tongue dancing with yours for just a few heartbeats, which were quickly picking up in pace, before remembering you were literally in public – sort of. despite your hiking group leaving you both in the dust, you were sure the woodland trails counted as public property.

your inner thoughts were confirmed as you heard the voice of a straggler call out to you from not too far away, the familiar voice of a mutual friend, laced with amusement as she warned "you slow poke lover boys better hurry up before we set up camp without you".

a simeultaneous sigh-turned-giggle escaped both you and your lover boy as your mouths reluctantly separated. you looked into his deep eyes, able to read the longing and desire like a novella.

his pretty hands hardly left yours the remainder of the day, the evening sunset giving your boyfriend an aura that entranced you long until the late night bonfire reflected off of his gorgeous skin. you sat beside friends on a log across from him and the others, your peers finally managing to pull the two of you apart for the first time.

yet despite their success, you didn't miss the way wonbin shot you a knowing glance over the crackling fire when the majority of your friend group announced their exhaustion, signaling their departure. even those not tired gathered and followed behind those who left, not able to stomach the sickeningly sweet atmosphere they knew would encase you and wonbin soon enough.

and surely enough it rang true, the two of you being left alone by the crackling fire. everyone was tucked far away in their tents while you straddled wonbin on the lopsided log, absolutely basking in the way his fingers trailed along your skin under your jacket, which was eventually discarded and served as the blanket your back met as wonbin maneuvered you to the ground.

you allowed your hands to freely play in his raven locks once again before roaming his shirtless back, his supple skin growing warmer by the second from the sturdy fire and your searing touch. you attempted to stifle your moans as his eager tongue explored your exposed collarbones, grinding down into you.

before long, to no one's surprise, wonbin's member was sheathed inside of you, releasing blissful sighs into the midnight air. you caressed him slowly, taking every inch of his being into the memory of your palms, getting high off of the narcotic feeling his lips brought you.

mouths attached together again like magnets, you gently bucked your hips up into his, weakly groaning as you felt your length slide along his exposed abs. you couldn't believe you were out in the open like this, leisurely seeking your high, so desperate and so drunk on your lover – but thats just the effect he had on you.

it was like he brought those airy, whimsical, dream-like feelings fresh from the haven of your subconscious and masterfully spread them along the map of your skin.

wonbin's slender body brought you up above the twilight trails that hung in the sky, through wisps of arousal that spun you in directions you couldn't sense anymore, all before gently landing you back on earth- right beside that bonfire- with a soft coo of his name.

you gently trembled when those plump limps met yours once more, wonbin pushing his tongue past your lips to see how his name tasted in your mouth. you'd allow him to indulge all hours of the day if it was possible, but for now you could feel yourself drifting off with him in your arms. you'd remind yourself to try waking up early to get another taste before the others emerged from their sleeping bags.

then slowly, your eyes closed, surely to experience the same euphoria in the dream realm.

a/n: sorry, kind of a long one. i'm in love with him :(

#🏷️flwr;drabbles #kpop x male reader #wonbin x reader #riize x reader #kpop x reader #riize smut #kpop smut #wonbin smut #park wonbin #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop hard hours #riize x male reader #riize hard thoughts

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keisobe · 1 year

Text

: 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 — (𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐲𝐚𝐦 + 𝐥𝐨’𝐚𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲)

— from avatar 2 : the way of the water (spoiler free!!)

contents. gn! reader, reader is a omaticayan, established relationships, angst, hurt/no comfort, emotional neglect, small kissing scenes, male red flags, the sully brothers being bad boyfriends + wc. 1.1k

notes. okay, so i write a lot of romantic + fluff drabbles of neteyam and lo’ak but i wanted to switch it up and write their red flags because guys are … guys. i realized i wrote a lot more for lo’ak, so i’m sorry about the word count difference between neteyam and lo’ak’s drabbles. enjoy reading some gut wrenching angst ♡

── ✦ 𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐘𝐀𝐌 always put his family first. it was always charming to see him quickly scoop tuk into the warmth of his embrace or aid his mother when her emotions got too overwhelming. the days where you both spent together, making each other beaded jewelry or stargazing always put a smile on your face. until those days were always cut short.

“sorry, dad needs me right now,” neteyam would push you out of his arms, rushing to gear himself with his woven pouch and poisoned arrows. he leaves a chaste kiss onto your cheek and hairline before he sprints into the forest.

it’s his family, it was okay.

“kiri needs my help,” your body felt cold again— watching him sit up as he adjusted his leather belt, storing his hunting knife.

no word was spoken from your lips, instead you replied with complete silence. neteyam didn’t glance away from his scattered belongings— collecting them as fast as he could.

this time there wasn’t a kiss, but only the coldness biting your bare skin— neteyam ran off once again.

okay, this wasn’t okay.

“hey, is everything all right?” his honey glazed eyes shifted from the dusky sky, now gazing at your contorted features.

though you wanted to hold back, lie to his face. the feelings became too overwhelming— you had to tell him.

“no neteyam, nothing is all right,” you sat up, gazing down at the incomplete bracelet that sat limp on your dainty wrist.

“what’s wrong?” neteyam replicated your movements— sitting up as he gently rested his hand on your shoulder.

there was a brief pause, the rustle of leaves filling the silence. neteyam was patient, watching your small movements. a sniffle came from your nose.

“it’s you,” your lips quivered as you said that. “you keep leaving me.”

neteyam shuffled in his seat a bit, a dry chuckle escaping his lungs.

“my family needs me,” he excused, shaking his head at your words. “you know that.”

he would never understand, it made you angry.

you swatted his hand off your shoulder, scooting away from the warmth of his skin— as much as you didn’t want to.

“no neteyam, it’s hard,” you turned your head away from him, tears welled up in your yellow eyes. “it’s like… like you don’t value our time.”

his lips pressed together as he avoided your gaze, thinking about what to say.

before neteyam could reply back, you stood up without ease— swiping off the tears that fell on your arms and knees.

“this time i’ll leave first,” you muttered, escorting yourself into the depths of the darkened forest.

guilt buried deep within neteyam’s gut. he had to make it right, but did he have time to get to you before—

“bro, i really need your help, like right now!” lo’ak’s desperate voice blasted through the speakers of his throat comm.

his eyes glanced back and forth between where you left in the hollow forest to the familiar direction of his home.

slowly adjusting his heavy pouch and clawed knife, neteyam takes a deep breath, turning his thick heels towards the right— back to his home.

family always came first and it’ll always be like that.

── ✦ 𝐋𝐎’𝐀𝐊 lived life on the edge. venturing out when everyone else rested for the night, weaving through the thick veins and feeling sap kissing the bottoms of his feet. there was always a surge of energy when he didn’t stick to the rules— he didn’t feel bound by his family, by the people from his clan. though his risky attempts to sneak off every night led you to be the one always by his side. you just wanted him to be safe.

“lo’ak, you’ll definitely get in trouble for this!” you warned, watching him skip across the tree bark towards an unknown, mossy area that was banned from being entered.

he briskly looked back before taking another leap, a smug smirk planted on his face.

“come on, don’t be such a wuss,” lo’ak shrugged his shoulders, voice sprinkled with utter sarcasm. the tips of your ears burned with frustration but also a tinge of fondness.

when he ran off, you followed.

“don’t hold that lo’ak!” lo’ak waved the heavy gun into the air, his finger lightly settled on the trigger.

after a successful raid, the omoticaya clan celebrated into fits of traditional cheers and clatters of new military artillery were being passed along to a more secure storage area. lo’ak happen to get his hands onto a stray gun left during the raid.

“it’s fine, my dad taught me how to use it,” lo’ak reassured, aiming the gun towards random directions. you let out a sigh, a small smile snuck onto your face.

“lo’ak!” a familiar voice shook your spine.

the olo’eyktan, jake sully, stood tall among the crowd— a scorn tucked into the wrinkles of his face.

quickly, you snatched the gun from lo’ak’s grasp, throwing it down onto the dirt floor as you knelt down. you felt jake’s presence grow near, every nerve in your body felt like needles prickling on your skin.

you picked up the gun, raising your head high to meet jake’s hard glare.

“this was a stray gun, someone probably dropped it while it was being passed,” you explained, gently handing the gun to jake.

lo’ak didn’t say a word, silently observing you deceive his father.

jake simply nodded, fishing off the gun from your grasp— walking off towards a group of fellow clan members to continue the formation.

“thanks,” lo’ak smiled, kneeling down himself to give you a tight back hug. the two you erupt into relieved laughter, a plethora of kisses adorned your face and shoulders.

when he’s in trouble, you covered for him.

“what is the meaning of this?”

neytiri and jake eyed both of you in disappointment— watching the fiddle of your fingers and the way your eyes darted with nervousness. once again, lo’ak ventured out into the forbidden parts of the forest, forcing you to accompany him. both of his parents caught you in the middle of the act, dragging you back home without a word.

“it was me,” you raised your hand, looking deeply into lo’ak’s worried eyes. “i wanted to see what was there, so i forced lo’ak to go with me. it’s all my fault.”

neytiri pouted at your explanation, glancing at jake for his insight. with a silent agreement, they both nodded their heads.

“then you’re banned from hunting for a week,” jake announced, the color in your face vanishing completely.

lo’ak flinched at his father’s words, his lips parted— but nothing came out.

though you took the blame, you wanted lo’ak to at least defend you— maybe even confess to all his rebellious behavior that put you in so many difficult situations.

neytiri walked over to you and firmly latched onto your arm, escorting you back into your tent.

you looked back to lo’ak, but he never met your eye.

when he’s silent, you took the blame for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to say a word.

#✩.*˚ — ina’s works🎂#ੈ♡˳ — (atwow) 📁#— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : drabbles #— ౨ৎ ࣪ . ⊹ : hcs #* ੈ♡˳ — (neteyam sully) 🎞️#* ੈ♡˳ — (lo’ak sully) 🎞️#neteyam sully #neteyam #lo’ak sully #lo’ak #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak sully x reader #neteyam sully x reader #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar fanfiction #avatar headcanons #avatar 2

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kwnnys · 4 months

Text

"what is that?"

giyuus tone is filled with slight confusion as he stares at the jewellery in your hand. eyebrows furrowing as you smile awkwardly.

"they're.. bracelets." you admit, feeling suddenly sheepish. you had been walking around the market yesterday, and just so happened to come across a stall that was selling these trinkets for a generous price.

"and they're matching. so one for you, and one for me!" you shove one of the bracelets into his hand, letting out a nervous laugh as you try to read his nonchalant expression.

"matching..?" he murmurs, and you panic. oh no, did he not like the sudden gift? ah, maybe they were too cheap for his liking..

now that you think about it, giyuu was never really much of a jewellery person anyway. oh god, how stupid were you? he definitely hates it. maybe you should just say it was a joke— or maybe snatch it and run off?

"sorry, its a little tacky isn't it?—"

"I love it."

you blink, did you hear him right? you blink again, glancing to meet the males expression. he's staring down at the trinket in his palm, a subtle smile tugging on his lips as his ears flush a light pink.

"eh? really?" you chuckle clumsily, rubbing the back of your neck. "you don't have to pretend, you know. it's fine if you don't-"

"no, I'm not pretending." he says sternly, eyes darting up to meet yours. his gaze causes your body to suddenly stiffen, and you let out a quiet gulp.

"I like it, I really do." he reassures, and it's your turn to blush. lips pressing together as you watch him wrap the brass material around his wrist. it's adorned with a few charms, mostly stars and beads. his fingers fumble with a specific charm, the one with his initial embedded.

"thank you." he whispers quietly, turning his head to the side whilst covering the lower part of his face with the back of his hand. he seemed.. somewhat flustered?

"thank you, I'll be sure to cherish it." he repeats, this time with a nod. "..and I won't take it off."

"wait, wait. you don't have to do that!"

he ends up going 2 weeks without taking the bracelet off, till you tell him that it'll damage the jewellery. he takes it off every night before going to sleep, and keeps it in a safe place for tomorrow.

#— elys works #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #giyuu x you #giyuu tomioka x you #giyuu imagines #giyuu tomioka imagines #giyuu fluff #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer x you #kny x you #TOO LAZY TO ADD A TITLE RN

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blues824 · 5 months

Note

OKAY- HOW ABOUT PROMPT FOUR (I see mama as a gender Neutral term as I am a male and get called mama all the time 💗🤭🤧)

With Grim and mama!reader, he is helping wrap up gifts with his mama cat(reader)! I can see it being a sweet but chaotic bounding moment for them both.

Then a small bonus scene of the first years trying to help Grim wrap up his gift to his mama!🤭😭👌

You requested: Gift Giving and Wrapping Gifts

This is actually so cute-

Grim

A feeling of tranquility settled over Ramshackle. A rare moment of peace to calm the seemingly never ending headache that you had. No sounds other than the wrinkling of wrapping paper and tape as you and Grim sat on the floor of the living room of the dormitory, wrapping presents for your friends.

Surprisingly, the little monster was useful when it came to getting tape. He was able to use his claws to cut it, as well as the wrapping paper, and that made it super efficient for you. You did the actual wrapping part, because he had no opposable thumbs, and thus had trouble. Don’t get me started on the weirdly-shaped items.

There were a few failed attempts just an hour ago, where somehow, Grim managed to wrap himself entirely in wrapping paper. You had to take the time to unwrap him, and you made a joke about how he was your present this year, and he acted annoyed at it. However, he did appreciate the strokes to the fur on his back, as it did feel nice after being rubbed the wrong way by the paper.

Anyway, you finished up the final gift and you let out a happy sigh, leaning backward to pop your back, neck, and stretch your arms and legs. A groan made its way out of your mouth as your muscles were wailing with relief after being stuck, hunched over in a criss-cross-applesauce for an hour.

However, you felt a paw tap you on the foot. You sat up and saw that Grim was looking down as he reached out his paws, a gift residing in them. On it was a name tag that said ‘Mama Henchman’. The package was wrapped rather poorly, but you loved the surprise all the same. You were actually close to tears as you gently took the gift from him, and started delicately unwrapping it.

Inside, there was a handmade keychain with his and your first initials. It was kind of like a miniature bracelet, and the color was a mix of shades of blue beads. Tears started falling as you quickly hugged Grim, overcome with joy and gratefulness.

“Hey let go of me-” His face got buried into your chest as you just held him in your arms.

“Thank you so much, Grim. You have no idea what this means to me,” You pulled away, making sure he could breathe.

You got up and walked to the counter where Grim’s present resided. It was wrapped elegantly in blue wrapping paper, a decorative ribbon sitting on top of it. You handed it to him, and he ripped it open to reveal three cans of fancy tuna.

As much as he wanted to deny it, he did, in fact, cry because of your thoughtfulness.

~~~~~~~~

About 4 Hours Ago:

“That is not how the tutorial said to fold it!” Ace shouted at Jack, who was minutes away from using the tape to shut his mouth.

“Yes it is, Trappola! You just weren’t paying attention!” He barked back.

Epel and Deuce were fighting over the roll of tape, as they couldn’t find where it started. Sebek was about to use his magic to wrap the present, but everyone argued against him, saying that it needed to be done with actual effort so that it could show how much you mean to them.

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #grim #grim x reader #twst grim #twst grim x reader

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fatallyfalling · 5 months

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Bitter Water 0.00 ~ ♆

“ Let the Reaping of the 67th annual Hunger Games begin, “

warnings: typical Hunger Games violence/trauma/themes, language, blood, injury, insinuation of forced prostitution, enemies to lovers, slow burn, etc.

{{ word count }} 2.6 k

{{ prompt }} Panem is cruel - bloodthirsty even. Every year twenty-four children must fight to the death as a sick form of entertainment. Today is the 67th annual reaping in the seaside District 4 - may the odds be ever in your favor.

{{ a/n }} Warning there’s a lot of exposition for what i think life in District 4 would be like though it may not sound 100% accurate to the canon ideation! I did way too much research on District 4’s presumed location and the general pacific northwest seafaring system for accuracy. This chapter is a lot of scene setting to reference later on top of the reaping occurring - please enjoy !

The Pacific-Northwestern region of Panem was home to District 4. Otherwise known as the “Fishing District”.

Most of its citizens are concentrated directly on or near the salty coast of the sea, working the many sailboats or on the bustling ports that harbored them. Children of the district learn to help from an early age, shucking oysters and various mussels or helping their mothers weave and repair nets for the local fishermen. Everyone smelled of the sea - fresh air, sea salt, and a damp pine, with sand clinging to their shoes and linen clothes.

Though a majority of the year brought overcast skies and rainy weather, the better parts of mid-July through late August were filled with warm, sticky sunshine and cloudless skies. Come autumn and winter, cold snaps and heavier rain storms were regular visitors, with many homes donning rain barrels to collect the excess liquid to be boiled down for drinking or bathing. The northernmost edge of the District sometimes saw snow, bringing ice fishing and skating to measured popularity amongst locals.

The port towns were anything but sleepy. Community in a constant hustle and bustle while watching out for one another in tandem with the intense seafaring labor. Days spent on the beach were filled with tugboat horns, captain's orders, and elated shrieks of children wading in the spray of the ocean. There was always a game of who could find the best cliff to dive from, or conch shell to hear the distant whispers of waves inside and whatnot. A group of older kids developed a make-believe currency of sand dollar bits to trade wooden beads, small clusters of natural quartz, seashells, rope bracelets, and more to entertain the younglings on an outcropping speckled in tide pools on the rocky shore.

More often than not, a walk down the boardwalk as dusk neared brought warm golden lights flooding from old taverns with deep, joyous shanties of the past and banter amongst hardworking sailors merging with joyous whoops and hollers of young women and barmaids. Everyone knew one another like family, and the seaside town practically breathed on its own with the rolling push and pull of the tide.

However, the Fishing District was silent today.

Waves crashed on the beach as boats creaked in their ports. Scarred wooden tavern signs wailed in the eerie breeze on salt-rusted chains. The absence of sound in the sand swept cobble streets was almost unsettling. There’s only one day a year that invokes such an abrupt halt in District 4’s beating heart.

The annual Reaping of one female and male Tribute set to compete in a fight to the death against twenty two other children from the districts all for the Capital’s sick reminder of what rebellion once cost the “great nation” of Panem.

The Hunger Games.

You knew the odds were never in anyone's 'favor'.

“It’s fine. Everything - everything is going to be fine…”

The repeated mantra is barely a whisper under your breath as you make a futile attempt the smooth the front of your lightweight, sage colored ensemble. There was a tremor in your fingertips. The idea of getting cleaned up like this just to attend your own prospective funeral made your stomach twist painfully. Tucking a few stray hairs behind your ears and a deep sigh through your nose, you take one last look in the foggy mirror on your dresser before making your way out to the main room of your home.

Although the Fourth District was deemed wealthy among the remaining 12, your seaside cottage was quaint - and quite a ways from the beach, in all honesty. The home was small, if not cozy. The outside wooden panels were worn with smears of grey from age due to the weather, paired with a tin slabbed roof that allowed every raindrop to be heard throughout the house when it rained. The inside wasn't much better. Little furniture adorned the household and appeared washed out in the summer light. Ivory walls were marked with the mayhem of childhood and clumsy hands. The large main room held a mantle and hearth with a makeshift stove built in and a rickety dark stained wood table with four chairs connecting to a barebones bathroom and two bedrooms. There were fixtures and switches for lights but no electricity. Candles were placed where lightbulbs would be for nights when the hearth wasn't keeping the house warm.

"Come on, we've got to get moving, or we'll be late."

You groaned as the younglings, twin boys with hair like your father's, sat on the oval roving rug you had finished braiding two springs prior. "You were supposed to get them washed up." You quip towards the older man seated at the worn-out table. His only reply is a gruff rumble as you scoff, stooping to rub soot off the boy's cheeks with your thumbs. They burst into giggles, and you can't help the tight-lipped smile that crosses your lips.

You tried to be patient with your father. There had been too much loss in recent years, but it wasn't an excuse to neglect his boys. You had enough trouble picking up the slack as it was, from taking extra hours on the shipyard and staying up late mending sails like your mother used to. She passed away some years ago. There had been complications delivering the twins, and there wasn't anything the midwife you'd called could have done. It left your father resigned to himself, taking up more time at the nearby tavern than on the shipyard hauling crates due for the Capital. A foolish miscalculation and one too many drinks ended up costing him his dominant hand and forearm in a freak accident at the port.

To say you had fallen on hard times would be an understatement. It was more akin to plummeting down one of the tall cliffsides bordering the port and smacking face-first into the water like concrete.

Eventually, you managed to wrangle the little rascals into their shoes and straighten the collars of their matching olive-green tunics. Hoisting one onto your back with a huff, you tried to calm the drumming of your racing heart. Your father stood with another grunt and shrugged on a deep brown leather coat to cover what was left of his arm. Allowing the other half of the youngling pair to weave their fingers through his, your father offered a firm nod in your direction, and the four of you set out toward town.

Looking back on that moment, you regret not taking in that quaint little cottage one last time.

The trek to town was about a mile or two. The beat down from the summer sun brought sweat to your brow and the nape of your neck, forcing you to set down the toddler on your back halfway. "I know it's hot, but we have to keep going," You cooed when the pair began complaining about the lengthy trip. This would be the first Reaping they might remember, not to mention the first they weren't in diapers for. You'd done your best to keep them healthy, sometimes at the expense of yourself, but it was worth all the risk in the world.

With a little more commentary from the twins, the tall brick clock tower above the judicial complex at the center of town came into view above the pine trees, and you let out a shuddering breath that made your chest squeeze. "Almost there," You muttered. Averting your gaze to the dirt path under your feet. The sun was almost at its peak when you converged with the lines of other citizens. Many reeked of sweat and body order, having traveled through most of yesterday and this morning to get to the Reaping on time.

You didn't allow your fear to show more than a tightness in your jaw as you gripped your siblings tight in an almost bone-crushing hug. You refused to say goodbye as it felt like admitting defeat before the duel with death had even begun. After a few long moments, you heard the automated voices of Peacekeepers in stark white uniforms and government-ordered guns slung across their chests, and you had to let go. "I'll come back in just a few minutes," You promised, though your voice felt meek and caught in your throat. Ruffling their hair and sparking a fit of spritely laughter, you lifted your gaze to the hardened eyes of your father. "See you soon."

"See you soon."

Another brief, tight-lipped smile, and you forced yourself to turn away and join the other prospective tributes for check-in. Families were forced to remain in a balcony above the judicial complex due to such a large population and past "complications" from reaped children's family members. Anxiety and anticipation brought a tension thick enough to be cut by a knife through the courtyard of people. Wetting your lips following a thick swallow, you tried not to focus too much on the looming Peacekeepers overseeing the procession. When it was your turn to check in, you didn't stutter when asked for your name but scrunched your nose as they pricked your finger, squeezing to pool the blood before pressing it into the paper list and scanning with a device that flashed green. "Next!" The peacekeeper barked, shooing you away with a wave of their hand. Your gaze danced around the all too familiar formation of children as you fell in line with the older Tributes.

You were led in groups through a few back hallways before being brought into a widely open auditorium. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined the back wall with long Red capital banners hung on the dividing stone pillars. Clenching your trembling hands into fists, your fingernails digging into your palms, you tried again to steady your racing heart as it pounded against your ribcage.

Things were going to be fine.

Another thick swallow forced its way down your throat, and you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth. The anxious habit often left your bottom lip puffy, if not bleeding from the repetitive action, but you couldn't help it. Shuffling into place to stand in rows and columns with the other prospective Tributes, you had to will yourself not to look anywhere but ahead. You couldn't break till this was all over. It was a long process to get everyone inside. But once the large wooden doors behind you slammed shut with a contagious shudder shifting through the crowd, you knew this was it.

The deafening cry of an unfocused microphone wails through the room, causing your nose to scrunch and your head to lean into your shoulder in discomfort. A stocky, overdressed Capital escort appears on the short stage made of stone to match the rest of the auditorium. They release a small gasp at the noise and allow a brief dismissal before tapping the microphone twice, the poor device exerting two loud "thumps" for good measure. Clearing their throat with a phlegmy cough, the escort begins a crawl of lines that were evidently rehearsed and regurgitated the same way every year to every district.

"Welcome, welcome! Happy Hunger Games!"

The escort's tone is elated, making you feel sick at the pride they seem to take in their position. Your jaw set in place as they continued their spiel.

"Before we begin, I'd like to share this wonderful message from our dear President and our beloved Capital!" They exclaim while gesturing to a letter they seem to pull from thin air. A small "shink" whispers through the mic as the letter is opened. The escort pulls a sheet of parchment out, discarding the envelope in a dramatic toss behind themselves and another phlegmy cough before reading the page.

"Dear Prospective Tributes,"

"It is an honor as the President of Panem to welcome you all to the annual Reaping for this year's Hunger Games. As you all have learned from birth. War, destruction, and rebellion have brought great shame to our nation. A shame that runs so deep that our Districts must be reminded of the consequences and retribution that rebellion costs. War brings death. War brings dead children, dead mothers, dead sisters, and dead brothers. To raise war against your Capital, which has provided you all you've ever needed, is treacherous. To bring war against your home is treason. These Games preserve our past. And these Games protect our future."

Signed, President Coriolanus Snow."

There isn't a single round of applause that rolls through the crowd once the escort finishes reciting the letter. The letter has been identical at every Reaping you've attended since you were twelve. The silence in the auditorium is loud enough to hear a pin drop. Your palms grow warm as blood slowly seeps from where your nails dig in, but you don't bother to take notice.

"Well then, if all is said and done, we shall now move on to selecting our two wonderful tributes who will hold the greatest honor of representing District 4 in the 67th annual Hunger Games. As always, ladies shall go first." The escort exclaims once more, accompanying animated waves of their gloved hands towards the pristine crystal fishbowls on either side of the stage. Both bowls are brimming with slips of paper. Your heartbeat thrums in your ears now.

Everything is going to be fine.

The escort all but skips their way to the crystal mouth of death on the right side of the stage. Your heart feels like it might as well burst out of your chest and splatter against the backs of those in front of you. Your eyes are glued ahead as the escort makes a show of sifting their gloved fingers through the name slips for what feels like an eternity. At last, a slip is chosen in a dramatic swipe up into the air to be displayed to the crowd.

The anticipation is suffocating.

The escort comes back to center stage, coughing into the microphone again as they peel away the black seal of the name.

As the chosen name booms through the auditorium, it's as if you're suddenly underwater. But you can't be underwater because you're standing still, and nothing's wet.

The name booms through the open room again.

This time, you're shocked out of your thoughts at the recognition.

It's your name.

You have been chosen as the female Tribute for the 67th annual Hunger Games.

You barely register the prod of a gun at your back or the jab to your side to force you out of line towards the stage.

This really was going to be your funeral, and you couldn't stop it.

A wail rips apart the blanket of silence as one of the twin younglings cries out for you. On instinct, your head whips towards the cry, but your temple connects with the butt of a gun, and you're knocked to the concrete below. Somehow, a sound akin to a growl emits itself from your throat on your hands and knees as you force yourself to stand back up. Your head throbs with white hot pain from the contact point, but a bitter, spiteful decision solidifies itself in your mind as you're led towards the jaws of certain death on that stage.

You will not die.

@emerald-09 @reader-bookling123 @finnickodaddy

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charliesgoodboy · 8 months

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2170 N. SULI🎧

babe, babea

달려들 것만 같이 (다칠 것 같이)

come in (yeah-yeah)

make me, make me

정신 나갈 것 같이 (미친 것 같이)

like it

song: . . . ılı OH MY GOD (g)-idle

TW: bit of possessiveness, male leaning reader(fem still welcome), a bit suggstetive(no sex or anything, he's 15), attention seeking, jealousy, neteyam is just a little worried like he needs you to love him fr, oh my gosh i'm not writing for tokio hotel??(rodrick is next and i have so many tom and gustav drafts)

NETEYAM who was the happiest man alive when he found you, you were almost his first everything—couple wise of course. you were the first to teach him how ride and dive, his first actual friend he'd make on this beach, the first he'd really have conversations with, you were the reason he'd get teased back by his brother the heat rising to his cheeks as he'd think about you and make up little scenarios in his head as he'd sleep, the scene of the words "i see you." coming out of your mouth time and time again.

NETEYAM even knowing he'll see you the next day he just gets clingy, a little too clingy but you'd manage. you didn't have to but you did, his arms wrapping from behind you rather it be on your shoulders, waist, playing with your hair, tracing the marks and stripes on your turquoise skin as you'd speak to someone else.

NETEYAM who would be touching you and be around you of course, but it just gave him an unsettling feeling in his stomach if you really were speaking to someone else, giving them your attention instead when he was right there. he wouldn't just tell you to stop talking to them— 'course not, he just didn't like it a lot but it wasn't that much of a deal. the little feeling in his stomach would only pass sooner or later.

NETEYAM who was very incorrect, the little stomach feeling had him giving rude and disrespectful looks to the friends you'd speak to. he would sit, legs crossed right next to you as his fingers would work on the last item he'd make for you, as he would slip the last bead on and tie the twine tightly. his hand would take yours putting the bracelet around your wrist, smiling as he'd watch your voice trail off your attention on him finally. "ma 'teyam, what is this?" "don't move for a moment." neteyam would put his other little trinket in your hair, looping the string on a lock making sure it would not come off. least for a while.

NETEYAM who would do a lot of these things for attention, linking to the fact he foes love you dearly. he'd take you to special places late at night where he'd take a moment to watch the sky colors change, and the stars shine brighter in the abyss. his lips giving you a kiss on your temple, then your cheek, your nose, forehead, listening to your laughs and giggles as his lips were finally on yours. " 'teyam—what's gotten into—" "sh," his lips would only trail to your jaw, putting small little kisses similar to the ones he'd peck on different parts of your face. his hands on your back and front of your waist still continuing the loving kisses he'd get to share with you alone.

NETEYAM who would feel bad about how tried you'd be in the mornings, but that would only mean he'd get to hold you for just a little longer.

'ma': a vocal marker

' 'teyam': a nickname for neteyam

#atwow x male reader #atwow x reader #avatar x reader #avatar x male reader #neteyam atwow #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam x male reader #neteyam x you #neteyam fluff #avatar fluff #atwow fluff #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan

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stargirlrchive · 1 year

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like real people do ✩ jake sully

masterlist ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

summary: jake sully x afab!reader, smut - minors DNI, fluffy soft smut, jake being dumb fr, jealousy (are we surprised); p in v, oral fem!recieving, using spit as lube brrrrr, wc - 5,149

tawtute - sky-people ; uniltaron - dream hunt

kuru - queue ; tsaheylu - bond

comments: tbh i just started writing and got a lil excited like, anywho she was so fun to write, i missed writing for jake <333 i hope you enjoy kk bye <3

You weren’t sure when this even started, when the frustration you had with Jake turned into longing desire. One that consumed you from the inside out and left you buzzing anytime his tail swished in frustration, or a snarky comment fell from his mouth. When he tried over and over to prove himself to you. When this strange sort of friendship the two of you had, grew into something entirely different for you.

And at first it left you feeling shameful, harboring feelings for a dreamwalker. You were sure it was not Mo’at’s intention when encouraging you to show him the ways of the Omatikaya that you would grow affections for him. When you began to reject the advances for courting from several clan members, you knew this terrible affliction was no longer fleeting.

Jake Sully had found a way into your heart, consuming you like ivy, and as much as you tried you were unable to pluck him out. And many moon rotations had passed since the war with the tawtute, since Jake had passed through the eye of Eywa, and completed his Uniltaron, and he still had not chosen a mate.

The clan had finally finished settling into the new encampment, a sense of normalcy finally was felt throughout your people, and unfortunately for you the talk of mates began spreading like wildfire. Heavily encouraged by the Elders, large celebrations were being held frequently, and it seemed that every other day you were being approached by one of your friends, informing you that they had mated with someone before Eywa.

It was getting harder and less acceptable for you to continuously reject suitors, and the men your age were becoming scarce. You had kept holding onto a sliver of hope that the Toruk Makto held affections for you too, because despite the way the two of you seemed to get under each other's skin, you were pulled to each other. You had lost count how many times the two of you ended up in the same place at the same time, spending hours together as you teased one another.

Over time your annoyance melted away into one of desire, and your respect mingled with that of adoration. But you had no idea how he felt, for all you know he could only see you as a mentor who then became a friend. At best, that is probably what he considered you.

So with the constant pressure of everyone around you and the flicker of fire that Jake had lit inside of you slowly dwindling as time went on, you began to accept the courting advances of a few of the Na’vi males your age.

That was how you found yourself in this predicament, with Jake lingering behind you as Zut’e had called for you. You knew that it wasn’t necessarily a requirement to harbor strong feelings for a mate, they were encouraged of course, but you also knew they came with time. With Tsaheylu most bonds flowed smoothly.

And Zut’e was sweet to you, and had been expressing his interest since before the war with the tawtute. But it did not stop the way your heart twinged in sadness that it was not Jake expressing his interest for you.

He had rummaged quickly through the small pouch attached to his loincloth, pulling out an intricately handcrafted bracelet. His hand reached out to show it to you better and your face burned darkly as you realized they matched the beads he had braided into his hair and that decorated his arm piece. A clear and obvious sign of his intentions.

“I have made you a gift.” His voice wavered lightly with nerves, and it caused a small laugh to leave your mouth. “It is very beautiful Zut’e, thank you.”

He beamed at the compliment, and it caused you to send him a smile. Your ears fluttered lightly when he grabbed your wrist cautiously. “Do you mind if I place it on you?”

You would be lying if you said the attention didn't cause your heart to flutter. It was welcomed after spending so long not receiving it from the one person you wanted. At that your mind lingered to Jake behind you, you could feel his eyes on the two of you. Stupidly you felt guilty, so you only nodded your head in the direction of Zut’e, fearing your voice would come out with uncertainty.

Zut’e let out a quiet breath, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist before tying. Your eyes lingered onto the piece of jewelry as his fingers brushed over the beads. When he pulled away his face was burning darkly, “Well, I will let you go now.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gesturing goodbye as a sign of respect to Jake before he looked back to you. He leaned in quickly and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, your tail swished nervously behind you as he pulled away, sending you one last look before he backed away.

You let out a nervous breath, the kiss was unexpected and you weren't sure why but you were nervous to resume your conversation with Jake.

“He couldn't wait to give you that?”

There was an edge in his tone and it caused a shiver to run down your spine, finally turning back to look at him. “I think it was sweet.”

An awkward tension was settling between the two of you quickly, and the stretch of silence was causing nerves to clamp around your throat. “I did not know he was courting you?”

His face was scrunched up with confusion and again, the guilt was consuming you, “He has been trying, for a long time now.”

Jake's tail swished lightly at the information, only giving you a curt nod as he turned from you. “Where are you going?”

“I have to train with Tsu’tey.”

You followed after him in confusion, your steps increasing as he walked faster, “But you and I always train together.”

He had continued walking until he spotted Tsu’tey, along with Takuk and Neytiri, “Not today.”

The trio were armed with weapons and your brows furrowed together even more. They were all going to train without you? They greeted the two of you, but instantly picked up on the growing tension as neither of you greeted them back. “If everyone is going, so will I.”

“No.”

“You cannot tell me what to do.”

“As Olo’eyktan, I think I can. And I do not want you to go today.”

Your arms crossed over your chest as he finally turned to look at you again. The both of you refused to back down as you exchanged a heated gaze. “You are not welcome.”

Your three friends exchanged confused glances, normally when you were not around Jake was unable to shut up about you. So to witness him excluding you from the group put them all on edge.

Frustration consumed you, and angry tears rushed to your eyes, embarrassment flooding your system at the rejection. Jake’s resolve flickered for a brief moment at the site of your watery eyes. He was about to trek back, apologize for being so rude when you blinked the tears away. Your anger intensified as you hissed out your words to him, “You are an asshole!”

Jake’s ears pinned back to hear you hurl an insult towards him, and an English one at that. You turned swiftly, walking away from the four of them despite Neytiri calling out for you to stop.

Takuk was the first to break the silence that had settled after your departure, “What was that about?”

Jake’s tail swished lazily in annoyance, “Zut’e has made his intentions clear. He even had a gift ready.”

He shrugged as if to try and play it off, but the hurt was evident in how tense his voice was, and how his tail had started to move behind him almost erratically, “And it was accepted.”

Tsu’tey snorted and it caused Jake’s brows to furrow together in annoyance. “Brother, you cannot be serious.”

Neytiri called out in warning, “Tsu’tey-”

“What do you mean?”

Tsu’tey decided against speaking out against Neytiri, a smart man. Takuk groaned quietly, “There is no way you do not see it? Both of you have been so obvious with your feelings for one another.”

Neytiri shrieked, “Takuk!”

She had always been so protective over you, and she felt that the confessions should’ve been shared between the two of you, not spoiled by your friends.

Jake felt his heart thump wildly, guilt webbing into his chest at how he spoke to you. “Should-should I go after her? Fuck!”

He was about to turn around before Neytiri hissed at him in annoyance, “You have done enough! We will train, give you time to think clearly on how you will make up for it.”

She swatted his head quickly, turning around to make her way towards the forest. Tsu’tey and Takuk snickered quietly, “It is best, you do not want to be at the receiving end of a female Na’vi’s rage.”

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Jake’s body ached from the rigorous training he had gone through, and he had been distracted the whole time, which meant he was sloppy in his execution and Tsu’tey had made him reap the consequences. He was almost positive he heard Neytiri whisper to Tsu’tey to be extra hard on him today. He knew it was due to the fact that he had upset you.

With every step he made deeper into the encampment his muscles throbbed, and all he wanted was for the two of you to slip away into the forest, as you did every night, and talk for hours about your day. He felt a twinge of uneasiness as he remembered your altercation from earlier.

He wasn't sure if you'd even want to talk to him anymore, and he deserved it. He was being an asshole. It was not your fault you had captured the attention of someone else, and it was also not your fault that he had not acted on his feelings.

After setting everything down in his pod, he was on the search for you. If he was being completely honest, he was scared. Nerves slowly consumed him as searched high and low for you and was still unsuccessful. Much to his horror he saw you emerging from the forest, Zut’e trailing close behind.

Jake's ears flattened roughly against his head as he made his way towards the two of you. He heard a small laugh fall from your mouth at something Zut’e said and he swallowed roughly. When he was close enough to the both of you, he cleared his throat, calling out your name gently.

You paused your conversation, turning stiffly towards Jake, “Yes, Olo’eyktan Sully?”

He winced at the name, “Does that greeting not suffice? Would you like me to bow next time?”

He whined your name quietly, his face lightly coloring in embarrassment, “Stop, please.”

You only huffed quietly, turning to Zut’e, “Thank you for training with me today. I will see you later?”

Jake did not like the idea of the two of you alone in the forest, and he disliked even more so that you intended to spend more time with him. “Of course.”

The warrior bid the two of you goodbye, and thankfully opted on not kissing you goodbye. Jake doesn’t think he could handle it.

With your lips pursed, you turned back to look at him. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Your eyes narrowed in on him, annoyance radiating off of you as you grumbled out quietly, “Well you’ve seen me.”

You turned away and began making way towards your pod, Jake trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Wait-”

You ignored him.

He called your name again, “Wait-god!”

He followed you into your pod, ignoring how you scoffed as he just marched into your home. “You have no manners!”

Your nose scrunched up in annoyance as he just stood there, stupidly trying to come up with what to say, “If you are just going to stand there, please leave. I am exhausted.”

“I want to apologize.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to hear it. Your ego was still bruised, and it hurt more than it should. You felt like he squeezed your heart too tightly and the ache continued to linger. “What for? You make the rules around here, I am no one to go against your wishes.”

Your shoulders shrugged but the way your tail coiled around your leg let him know you were upset.

Jake had forgotten just how stubborn you could be, and he felt like he was floundering, this was not at all how he expected for your conversation to go.

Desperately he made his way closer to you, reaching for your hands to keep you still. His eyes flickered to your wrist, and was pleasantly surprised to see you were no longer wearing the bracelet you had received from

someone else.

“Where is the bracelet?”

“I don’t know why that is any of your concern.”

His thumb lightly grazed the skin of your wrist before looking up at you. Your eyes softened as you noticed the guilt swirling in his. His eyes were always so expressive and it wore you down, you were never able to stay mad at him for long. With the way you huffed and avoided his eyes, he could tell too. “I gave it back to him.”

Jake's tail seemed to have a mind of its own as it thumped softly in excitement, “Why?”

With the way his fingers were rubbing gently into your skin, and the close proximity to him you couldn’t think straight. The impulsive thought to spill your feelings out to him was becoming so strong, and the warmth that was radiating off of him was making you dizzy.

You wiggled your wrist out of his hold, stepping back from him as you sighed, “I just-it is not fair to string him along.”

Jake only hummed, watching you closely and it made you squirm. Nervously fidgeting as his eyes darkened to a warm honey like yellow. The tension rising in your home was so different to one you had ever felt.

It felt hot, and made excited nerves bubble in your stomach as your eyes slowly looked over Jake, his muscles flexing lightly everywhere your eyes glazed over. Your face burned as you locked eyes with him again, and your heart began to thump nervously as he began to slowly make his way towards you. With each step he made to you, you took one back.

He slowly caged you in as your back hit against the woven wall of your home. The way he towered over you should not have excited you as much as it did. But he was so close his breath was fanning over your face, “Why would you be stringing him along?”

The amusement dripping from his tone just let you know he already knew. It was him. And in a breathless whisper, you mumbled out, “I think you already know.”

He hummed quietly, “Wanna hear you say it.”

You huffed quietly, cheeks coloring in embarrassment when his hand fell to your waist. You were crumbling under his touch, your lips parting as his fingers lightly dug into the flesh of your hip. “Since you don’t want to speak, I’ll go. I for one, am glad you rejected him.”

Not once did he break eye contact with you, “I don’t like the idea of anyone thinking they have a chance with you.”

“Why?” His eyes briefly fell down to your lips before they flicked back to your eyes, a cocky smile making its way onto his face, “Because they don’t. Because I’ve made it pretty clear to everyone but you, that you’re mine.”

A warm feeling began to pool between your legs, your tail trashed excitedly as Jake nuzzled his head between your neck.

His teeth gently biting into the junction of your neck and a surprised cry fell from your mouth. His tongue swiped right over the skin to soothe the ache. He continued with his ministrations and the words tumbled out of your mouth as you pulled him closer, “I want you, only you.”

Jake purred against your skin and your thighs squeezed together at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut as he sucked softly against your skin. Marking the azure skin with deep purple.

A quiet whine fell from your mouth as he moved his lips from your neck, but he didn't have you waiting for long. His mouth covered yours quickly and your fingers tangled into his braids, pulling him even closer as his tongue pried your mouth open. His tongue lazily tangled with yours, and the need for oxygen was becoming less important. Now that you felt his lips against yours, you didn't think you could go without it. Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he grunted into your mouth. His hips had started to lightly grind into you, the growing bulge digging into your lower abdomen. You fluttered around nothing, the excitement that had bloomed in your lower belly was slowly starting to consume your whole body.

You both broke apart momentarily, taking shallow breaths to fill your lungs with air. “You sure about this?”

You bit down on your lip, nodding your head as you pressed another quick kiss to his lips. You felt him smile against you and it caused a small laugh to fall from your mouth.

You weren’t entirely sure what you expected to happen, but it was certainly not for Jake to be kneeling in front of you. His eyes flickered up to you once again, and when you gave him a quick nod he untied your loincloth. With a nervous laugh you let him slip it off of you, parting your legs gently as he moved closer to you. He placed kisses from your hips, down to your thighs and you squirmed. Your legs instinctively tried to close anytime he sucked onto the skin of your thighs. He hummed quietly, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder and you shrieked lightly, face heating up as he locked eyes with you once more.

His honey colored irises were barely visible at how dilated his eyes were and you felt yourself clench around nothing. “Jake-please.”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for, but you knew the need would be satiated by his mouth. And you were correct, your head fell against the wall of your home as he reached forward and sucked on the small bud. Whimpers left your mouth as his tongue and mouth continued to slowly tether you closer to the edge, he mumbled quietly against your cunt and a loud whine of his name was punched out of you.

He pulled his mouth away, two of his rough fingers sliding through your folds and your hips bucked, “Please-Jake please.” Your fingers dug into his scalp as one of his fingers teased at your entrance.

His finger entered you with ease and Jake smiled happily at his work, a clear sign that he was doing what he should. He was knuckle deep before he gently curled his finger inside of you and your hips stuttered. Incoherent moans falling from your mouth as he attached his mouth to the soft bud once again. Alternating between sucking softly or running his tongue through your puffy folds.

He felt you clench around his finger as he slowly eased into you a second one. You were so snug around him, sucking his fingers in every time and Jake's free hand fell to his clothed cock. Palming himself to ease the ache as he felt you slowly lose your composure.

With a final cry of his name, your muscles tightened around Jake's fingers and your release hit you so quickly. Your legs felt heavy and numb as it overtook your entire body. A blissed out laugh fell from your mouth as Jake continued slowly grinding his fingers into you through your orgasm. He pulled out gently, placing a hand to your hips to steady you as he stood up.

You felt shy under his gaze and your face flushed as he popped his two fingers into his mouth to clean off your release. Once he was satisfied he mumbled out softly, “Taste so good, Yawne.”

The affectionate name caused a smile to bloom onto your face, nuzzling into his hold as he pulled you into him. Jake was glad your face pressed into his chest as he was unsure he could ask you if you were facing him. Despite it being so obvious, there was still a small twinge of insecurity that had settled inside of him as he had not courted you in the customs of your people. “Do-do you-”

“Tsaheylu?” Finishing his sentence as you pressed a kiss to his chest and the muscle flexed gently, “Yes.”

You pulled yourself from him and pressed kisses all along his jaw, nipping gently, “Wanted to for so long, Jake.”

A breathy laugh fell from his mouth as he placed a kiss to your hair, pulling the two of you down onto the floor as you kneeled in front of each other. There was no trepidation creeping inside of you as you reached for your kuru, only excitement and giddiness as Jake reached for his own. The weight of your next coming actions made you dizzy, your queue feeling heavy in your hand as you buzzed in excitement.

Jake couldn’t fight the smile on his face as he watched you, he was squirming with excitement and happy nerves as he inched his queue closer to yours. He had been longing for this for so long, he couldn’t believe it was real.

The soft pink tendrils fizzled at the close proximity before they tangled together. Your heart stuttered for a few seconds before a warm sensation overtook your entire body. Jake and yourself became one and you felt him infiltrate every part of you that he hadn’t. Your thoughts flowed as one, hearts beating together, he was yours, just as you were his.

Jake blinked rapidly, he had never felt that immense and overwhelming sense of pleasure rush through him. Jake couldn’t help how rampid his thoughts were running, you looked so pretty, he was so overwhelmed by you.

Your face flushed and a quiet laugh fell from your mouth as you heard his thoughts, and watched his tail swish lazily.

Jake cleared his throat roughly, his face coloring in embarrassment as he realized what was happening, but nothing could top the feeling of serenity that washed over the two of you. You inched closer to him, wanting to be as close as possible.

In a swift movement Jake pulled you toward him and you clumsily fell flush against him, your breathing a little jagged at all the overwhelming feelings rushing through you, a quiet, “Hi.” fell from his mouth as you locked eyes once again.

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before you whispered back, “Hello, Ma’Jake.”

And that was all it took before his mouth was all over yours, wrapping you up so tightly in his arms as your body’s moved together, fitting together perfectly as he laid you down.

His body caged yours in as he kissed you dizzy, your hands roamed his toned body and your legs fell open to grant him access to be closer. Your hands fell down to his loincloth, lightly gripping at Jake clothed cock and a moan ripped from his mouth, you swallowed the noises falling from his mouth eagerly and his hips bucked into your hand.

The desire pooling between your legs was intensifying to have Jake falling apart by your doing. His tongue lazily tangled with yours and you pushed your palm harder onto his cock. “Yawne-fuck.”

A soft giggle left your mouth as you pulled your lips away from him, your hand moved to the knot that tied his loincloth together, making a quick movement to untie it. He helped you remove it, and assisted you as he leaned forward to untie your top.

Your eyes fell down to his cock, your eyes widening slightly at the size and your cheeks burned. “We’ll go slow okay?”

You only nodded, not trusting your voice. He sat back on his legs, his eyes lingering on your chest before he continued to take all of you in. Your body felt hot under his stare as he gripped at your thighs, parting them even more as he pulled you closer by your legs. His fingers tentatively pressed into your clit again, lightly ghosting between your slit as he gathered some of the wetness that had settled between your legs.

Your hips stuttered lightly, whimpering quietly before he removed his fingers and spit into his hand. Using your slick and his spit as he gripped his cock. Stroking a few times and your fingers itched to reach out and help him.

His hand continued to stroke rapidly as he leaned forward, letting his mouth wrap around your breast as he sucked gently.

Your chest pushed into his mouth at the foreign feeling, enjoying the way he marked you all over, and the way his tongue messily swiped at your chest. He paid equal attention to the other one, shifting his hips so he rested against you. His hips rutted into you, the tip knocking into your clit and you cried out his name. Gripping at his braids to keep him on your chest. Your hips stuttered upwards, “Please Ma’Jake-”

“Mawey Syulang.”

Jake’s Na’vi was still choppy but it caused you to flutter, your cunt throbbing to hear him use your native tongue. He gripped at his cock once more, slapping it a few times against your clit before running it one last time against your slit before he gently began to push into you.

Your mouth parted at the intrusion, squirm slightly in discomfort as he slowly pushed into you.

Jake was so sweet about it, gently caressing your body to try and ease the ache that had settled between your legs. “Doin’ s’good for me baby.”

You let out a deep breath, letting his voice and hands soothe you. Jake grunted quietly as he felt your muscles contract and tighten against him as he finally finished sinking into you.

You were stuffed, your breathing ragged as he stayed still to let you adjust to his size. His hands never stopped rubbing comfortably into your skin, and when you sent him a hazy smile he began to slowly pull out, pushing back in as he tried to find a pace that worked for the both of you.

His head was dipped down as he watched where he entered you, his chest swelled with pride to see you take him so well. With every thrust your cries got louder and louder, the way his cock dragged along inside of you, pressing tightly against your cervix everything was so intense., But what made your mind go blank with pleasure was when he pushed into you to just grind his hips.

“Please-feels s’good Jake.”

You reached for him to pull him flush against you, letting your tongue fight against his as he increased the speed of his thrust. The way grunts and small whines of your name fell from his mouth only spurred you on, your cunt tightening around him as you cried out his name.

You were too dazed in the feeling of pleasure to care about how loud the two of you were being, the sound of slapping skin all melted away as his thumb pressed into your clit. Your hips rose from the floor and your lips parted as your second orgasm hit, much harder than the first and your body lightly convulsed against Jake.

“Did so good for me, Yawne.”

He gave a few more harsh thrusts before you felt the ropes of his release coat your insides, “S’good.”

His hips stuttered lightly as you tightened around him once again, pulling out as gently as he could. Your body was spent, the ache that had settled all over you was happily welcomed. He pressed a quick kiss to your mouth before removing your kurus from each other, looking around your home.

You were too tired to question what he was doing, so much so you hadn’t even noticed he had gotten up to retrieve a cloth. Your hips jumped lightly when he began cleaning you up with a damp cloth, “How ya’ feeling?”

With a lazy smile you nodded your head to him, “Really good.”

He laughed before cleaning himself up, scooping you into his arms as the two of you tangled together. Your ear was pressed tight against his chest and the sound of his heartbeat was slowly luling you to sleep. Jake's fingers continued to run down the expanse of your back, tracing stripes and following the tahni that littered all over you like stars.

He pressed a kiss to your temple as he pulled you in even closer, he could feel the fluttering of your eyelashes against his chest as the two of you soaked up each other's presence. Spent and happy, and with each other. He swore nothing else mattered in that moment.

He was ready to spill his heart out in a confession, though he was sure you knew how he felt after you had formed Tsaheylu, when someone cleared their throat from the outside of your pod.

“Um-If the two of you are finished, it is time for supper.”

Tsu’tey’s voice awkwardly called out and you felt your face drop. Embarrassment flooded your system as you scrambled to sit up, “Yes-yes we will be out shortly.”

Your words were jumbled together and Jake couldn’t help but laugh as he watched you dress quickly.

He sat back lazily, stretching his aching limbs but made no move to get up. You turned to look at him, confused when all you received back was a lazy smile.

“Come on, Jake. They will question why we are late.”

He corrected you, “Ma’Jake.”

Your face flushed softly, cupping his face as you pressed a kiss to his lips, “Ma’Jake-has a nice ring to it.”

“Only when it’s coming from you.”

Your tail shyly coiled around his leg, pressing a final kiss to his lips before you stood up, “I will leave you here.”

And he didn’t doubt it, he saw you nearing your entrance and then it was his turn to scramble for his clothes. You stifled a laugh as he clumsily dressed himself.

His fingers tangled with yours before he pulled you along, ignoring your friends as they stood not far from your home, it was no use as Tsu'tey and Takuk followed behind the two of you, snickering quietly.

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