Latest Posts by ara-ara-bitch - Page 2

- obsessed with the concept of reader having coryo wrapped around her finger. he’d never admit it of course but he was aware of the downright visceral reaction he had when you’d look up at him with those big doe eyes, lips pouty as you’d twirl a lock of your hair round and round your finger. so it can’t be his fault that he zones out, glazed eyes seeming to focus on your mouth but not actually taking in a word you’re saying. if he’d simply paid attention he’d see the deviant spark in your eyes, your clenched posture. you ramble on about your own agenda, you go on prettily with the lilt of false self consciousness about your ideas for the capitol, better ways for things to be run. he steps into your space, blue eyes intense and hungry - impatient - so of course you have to make your move. ‘what do you think, coryo? is it a good idea?’

he could be agreeing to anything - cancelling the games, giving the districts more freedom - and he’d have no idea. he’d backed you up against the wall now, narrow hips slotting against your own. ‘whatever you want, my love,’ he’d murmur, already kissing at the edge of your jaw. if only he could see the power hungry smirk your throwing over his shoulder, the cogs of your brain already turning towards your next move.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ “pussy put his ass to sleep, now he callin’ me NyQuil…”

Suguru x fem!reader

Suguru used to swear off relationships, he liked to fuck and labels were exhausting. He felt strongly about this, until he had met you. He liked the intimacy, the connection, and the safety he felt with you. At times, he wondered the possibility of soulmates with the way you two seemed to fit into each other so naturally.

Your pussy being able to put him in a coma was just a bonus.

Suguru had sweat dripping from his brow, his eyes shut tight as he felt the warm stickiness of your wet cunt wrapped tightly around his thick cock. The feeling of Suguru's tip hitting your cervix nearly made you stop breathing. His cock leaking into you as he whined into your ear, “so fuckin’ good!” getting lost in the feeling of your tight cunt sucking him in. He had you in missionary, wanting needing to see your reactions every time he pounded into you roughly. Your nails dug into his soft skin, your mouth wide open letting cries of pleasure bounce on the wall.

“Guru’, R-right there!” You let out a silent scream as a strong pressure fills your cunt. He sped up, biting your shoulder to hush his own moans and indulge in yours. “wa-it, suguru!—“ you gasped, trying to push him away. He laughed breathily at your attempts, pinning your hands above you head as your eyes began to water. “Nuh uh, not going anywhere..” moving one hand to your waist to lift you up a little, perfectly battering the most sensitive part of you. You squirmed as your vision started to blur, the intense feeling made your legs shake and release liquid from your swollen and puffy pussy. You laid there lifeless, trying to breathe as suguru pulled away to watch the way you twitched.

“Look at this pussy~” he cooed when you tried to close your legs, his fingers too much for how sensitive you’ve become. He pulled them apart, a sadistic look in his eye as he let a glob of cool spit land on your soaked cunt, using his thumb to spread it. You bit your lip to hold back a whine, your back arching off the bed. “Is it too much?” Your glossy eyes met his and you nodded. He leaned down to kiss your lips, “you still gonna’ help me cum?” You paused before nodding again, a little sniffle coming from you when you felt his dick grind against you.

“Such a good girl, my perfect girl..” he praised, pulling back to watch his tip push into you again. He looked at the way your brows furrow, a small whimper leaving your glossy lips. Suguru smirked before shoving himself into you fully, taking a sharp intake of breath and letting his head roll back, “fu—uck..”

you immediately tried to pull away only for him to grab your soft hips. “Don’t run baby—you can take it.” His voice strained, fucking into you harder than before, finally chasing his own release. His hand wrapped around your throat, your voice squeaking up higher as you begged for him to use you. You reached up to tweak his nipples making a shiver run up his spin, a choked moan escaping him. “That’s it baby, take that fuckin’ dick.”

He curled himself into your neck when he came, continuing his rutting to work the both of you through your orgasms. He came a lot, purring as you whispered affirmations to him. “Love your pussy..” he muttered into your ear, kissing your neck while trying to level his breathing and wrap his arms around you. You smiled and played with his hair, knowing how much he loves the feeling.

After noticing how quiet it got, you got suspicious. “suguru?” Looking down, only to notice he had fallen asleep, still inside of you and on top of you. You groaned and rolled your eyes, “get up! suguru?! You do this every time-“ you were cut off with a whine and silence again. Maybe you should’ve riden him instead…

A/n; saw some fan art of him and now he won’t leave my mind🛌 also, thinking of writing hockey player!suguru, can’t get the image of him skating with his long hair flowing behind him he’s so fucking fine.

THINGS GOJO SATORU SAYS IN BED

“hey—no teasing. take it all. ngh .. fuck me..”

“you cryin?”

“lay back, and let me do all the work. i just want you to sit there and look pretty.”

“try to keep your legs up, i know it’s hard. but try for me beautiful.”

“want me to help you?”

“get it wet .. just like that. you know i like it sloppy.”

“just wait baby .. fuck—give me a damn minute.”

“does it hurt when i fuck you like this? hm? why are you squeezing me so tight then?

“tell me you love it .. fuck, you’re so dirty.”

“arch it baby .. there you go angel.”

“nuh-uh, open those pretty legs.”

“don’t make me cuff your hands, bet you’d like that huh?”

“you’re weak here .. right?”

“keep your eyes on me.”

“you look so fucking beautiful .. such a little slut for me when i eat that pretty cunt out .. i should do it more often. y’so soft for me now.”

“you can do it pretty .. you can take it—shit!”

“want me to spank that pussy? lay back then,”

“give me one more. please, just one more baby.”

“one’s enough for you? think that pussy’s begging for another.”

“don’t be embarrassed .. i love it when you squirt for me.”

“you want it so bad? beg.”

Neuv's working 9-5 💙

CURSED SPIRIT — y.o

⛤ curse!yuuta okkotsu x fem!reader

yuuta okkotsu being your one and only curse.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampies. multiple orgasms. groping. dry humping. public sex-ish. fingering. slight oral (f. receiving). overstimulation. thigh fucking. somnophilia. possessiveness. yandere tendencies. mentions of violence. +18!

wc: 1.2k

a/n: inspired by @deviants-forest work! etc. (go check it out) also happy kinktober! :)

Curse!yuuta who creeps up your back, his hands finding your waist and his lips tickle your ear as he’s whispering how much he needs you on a subway train to home. “Not now…” you whisper over your shoulder to him trying not to be noticeable by others who crowded you and payed no mind, too busy on their phones. You bit your bottom lip when he presses himself against your ass in one movement already having your blood rush like crazy. You try to keep your composure like nothings bothering you but yuuta’s hard on humping into you desperately, whining in your ear and his cold hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boob. “need you ‘s bad” he was always touchy, could never keep his hands off you.

Curse!yuuta who doesn’t mind your sorcerer friends as long as they don’t get too close. Your friends can sense the heavy weight of cursed energy from you, even if they got close it was too much to bare sense yuuta was around, the air would fill thick and negative. You could barely go out with them to eat without his fingers buried in your cunt and playing your clit. They would ask you if you were okay when your head is down on the table but you just excuse it as you were not feeling well for a second but yuuta is grinning ear to ear, amused how your well your taking his slender fingers, curling them inside and you can’t help but squirm in your seat acting like your stomach is just hurting though you were about to orgasm. “Please yuuta..” you whisper to him “Come on you can cum on my fingers..” his raspy tone sending you shivers down your back.

Curse!yuuta who watches an “old friend” hug you, his hands in places that shouldn’t be. After you would praise yuuta for staying calm but yuuta would give shake his head only because you would be upset if he did anything and simply gave you a warning “Next time I’ll break his arm” “You can’t be serious” you sigh, you always knew he was.

Curse!yuuta who clenches his fist watching some prick try to flirt with you in front of him knowing he can’t be seen. Even the second time you reject him you can feel yuuta’s anger grow by the second that in any moment he would take action. “I-i have a boyfriend-“ praying yuuta doesn’t get violent “I don’t see him?” His hand coming up to touch your shoulder now he’s on the floor shouting in pain, blood from his broken nose all over his hands, shaken up that he didn’t see anyone hit him? Was he going crazy? “Pathetic” Yuuta mutters luckily he held back a lot, he could do so much worse and this wasn’t the first time.

Curse!yuuta who gets anxious that you might hate him when you get into arguments. He feels like he can’t exist without you, he’s nothing without you and the thought of you hating him makes his heart sink and scared that he’ll be all alone. He didn’t care about anyone else he just needed you. The amount of times you got tired of telling him not to hurt people and you could handle the situation yourself. He’ll plead you not to hate him and apologized excessively. “We can talk about this tomorrow” his stomach sinking by the tone of your voice that it will all end up to you hating him. He couldn’t stand the feeling.

Curse!yuuta who wants to let you know how much he loves you and how much he needs you, praying you don’t leave him or hate him. He glares at you in your sleeping state though he can’t wait til tomorrow he needed you to know now. “Please don’t hate me” “i love you so much” as he’s softly kissing your neck on each side, peeling your panties off. The cold air makes your cunt clench at his sight. He’s kissing the inner of your thighs sweetly and his lips makes contact with your pussy and a small whimper emits from your mouth. “Yuuta” you utter half sleep thinking it was only a sex dream, you were a heavy sleeper at that. he’s burying his lips between your folds trying to get more like he was so starved. If he can just make you feel good you won’t be mad at him and you can forgive him.

Curse!yuuta who can’t wait any longer, his dick pulsating through his pants even how much he gets drunk off your pussy, he loves the taste of it every time but he’s rutting against the mattress. Brings your thighs together to slip his cock between, throwing his head back letting out quiet moans as his cock is rubbing against your clit between your thighs. Your eyelids almost twitching open. He spreads your legs apart and sinks his dick into you watching your pretty lashes flutter at the sudden pleasure of you being spread apart. “Yu..?” You begin to stir awake, he kisses your lips before you start to fully take consciousness. “I don’t want you to hate me” “forgive me please” as he’s thrusting harsh inside you and swallowing your lips. By the time your walls were the shape of him every time he used you so it was easy for him to slide right in, you were made for him and he was made for you was the thought that brought him comfort. His fingers entwines with yours, his cock continuously rubbing hard in your insides. “Yuuta!” You moaned beautifully in his ear, your hand clawing at his back, yuuta loved it, it didn’t hurt him because you could never hurt him he didn’t mind it.

Curse!yuuta not wanting to stop, he’ll never get tired of cumming and filling up your pussy. You’ll be overstimulated begging him to stop it was awfully much to handle, you couldn’t cum anymore but you did as he’s plunging his cock in your abused cunt. The choke sobs and sounds of squelching filled the room “Need you-need you tell me you love me…please f-forgive me..ah!” Rubbing your clit increasing more nerves. “I-i love you yuuta! Ah-I really do! I could never be mad at you” Your words lifting weight off his chest still pounding into you. Holding you in a warm embrace to finish inside you. When he did filling up your womb one last time with his string of cum, your nails dig into his back letting your last orgasms crash into you. You let out a cry into his shoulder, your body trembles.

Curse!yuuta who needs constant reassurance you’ll never leave him, placing gentle kisses on each part of his face. Even though he’s nothing but a curse to you, being invisible to the outside world, Has a hard time showing remorse it’s just what he does to protect you, he somewhat doesn’t know that but knows he can be a bit possessive he just can’t help the urges of anyone getting close to you or worse even laying a finger.

Curse!yuuta bending you over the counter in the morning as you were trying to make yourself breakfast, last night was rough you were a bit sore but yuuta still misses your pussy. “Just a quick one I promise! I miss you so much! I’m just displaying my love for you—“ he pushes himself inside your worn out cunt from last night once again, you whimper at the feeling each time he rolls his hips when his balls slap against you. His hands reaching to your tit, massaging it in his palms. You don’t think you could ever break the curse from yuuta okkotsu.

this is literally the sweetest thing ever 🥺

'The Love Shack' Series Masterlist

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22) Series status: Complete

Story Summary: You’d heard the whispered speculations and stifled giggles during the daytimes. You’d seen the furtive glances that the other women cast at Neteyam and Lo’ak through coquettish eyes, cheeks stained a blushing mauve as they exchanged coy smiles with the two brothers. And during the nights? Hell, you’d heard the moans and wanton cries for yourself… You were definitely curious, but did you have it in you to go through with their proposition?... Note: No use of 'Y/N'. Your name/reader's name in this is Neyomi.

Content: SMUT 18+ MDNI, Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, sex toy play, squirting, anal sex.

Part I - The Proposition Part II - Three Is A Perfect Crowd Part III - Blurring Lines Part IV - Haunted By You Part V - The Fault Is Ours Epilogue Drabble - Silwey's Reaction

Author's Note: A complete series means it earns its own series masterlist. 🥰THANK YOU to all of you who showed this series so much love! I enjoyed all your comments, and I'm eternally grateful for all your likes & reblogs. Neteyam & Neyomi's journey is another special addition in the library of my heart. 😘 For those who are new to this series - Hang on to your panties (or not) and enjoy this sexy, emotional rollercoaster. I hope you love it as much as others have. 💜💜💜

In the spirit of encouraging people to comment on fanfics while also making it easier to do so, I feel obliged to share a browser extension for ao3 that has quite literally revolutionized the comment game for me.

I present to you: the floating ao3 comment box!

From what I've seen, a big problem for many people is that once you reach the comments at the bottom of a fic, your memory of it miraculously disappears. Anything you wanted to say is stuck ten paragraphs ago, and you barely remember what you thought while reading. This fixes that!

I'll give a little explanation on the features and how it works, but if you want to skip all that, here's the link.

The extension is visible as a small blue box in the upper left corner.

(Side note: The green colouring is not from the extension, that's me.)

If you click on it, you open a comment box window at the bottom of your screen but not at the bottom of the fic. I opened my own fic for demonstrative purposes.

The website also gives explanations on how exactly it functions, but I'll summarize regardless.

insert selection -> if you highlight a sentence in the fic it will be added in italics to the comment box

add to comment box -> once you're done writing your comment, you click this button and the entire thing will automatically copied to the ao3 comment box

delete -> self explanatory

on mulitchapter fics, you will be given the option to either add the comment to just the current chapter or the entire fic

The best part? You can simply close the window the same way you opened it and your progress will automatically be saved. So you can open it, comment on a paragraph, and then close it and keep reading without having the box in your face.

Comments are what keep writers going, and as both a writer and a reader, I think it's such an easy way of showing support and enthusiasm.

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife. PART 2

pairings: Capitano, Kaveh, Tighnari, Zhongli x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, hurt/comfort; hybrids, unwelcomed courting, kind of female objectification (all in Tighnari's part)

word count: 6.9k+ words

a/n: part 1 can be read here!

Capitano

Fast elegant fingers of a pianist run across the keys of black and white and the violins in the hands of other musicians are there to serve together with the chorus of beautiful voices, selected by Lady Columbina personally. The music infiltrates the souls of the nobles present, filling them with the sense of grandeur and glory, touching even their harsh unfeeling hearts.

The atmosphere of the gathering is gratifying, would’ve even been endearing if not for the stately figures of the Harbingers standing on both sides of the throne, where the Tsaritsa would've been seated had she not decided to refrain from attending it altogether. She has more important matters to take care of, and nine of her most loyal servants can definitely fill in her place on that yearly event.

Sure, this year it is more important since the two Harbingers are missing and the seats stay vacant - it's been the talk of the nation. Who is going to be nominated? Can it be influenced? Will they claim the names today?

Is the mysterious Commander, whose arrival became the topic of multiple speculations, be the one? A fierce warrior many heard of, but almost none saw face to face. The man was believed to be as powerful as the 11th Harbinger or maybe even the 10th! Having an army and an establishment of his own on the farthest line of the Snezhnayan border, he still is under the command of Lord Capitano, which makes it even harder to fish any more information than what is already known to the public.

"I only heard about him. He and his troops are protecting our borders from the monster's invasion in the North."

"Ew, who would've wanted to live in the North! It's much harsher than all the Snezhnaya."

"Shush, the Commander is wealthy and respectful, you can bear some cold."

"What do you imply?"

"The Commander is unmarried, there is no way he isn't, not with a life like this. But it can always be changed, and the woman he takes as wife would be one of the luckiest ones!"

"You are right… Maybe he is actually handsome. Maybe he'd be even willing to buy a whole mansion for his promised one and not take her with him to that awful place. Maybe…"

Maybe, maybe, maybe. It travels through the crowds like a storm in its wake, eventually reaching the Harbingers, who, for the first time after appearing and greeting the already arrived, stop resembling the statues. Eyes shift among the people and each other; some gazes hold interest, some - annoyance. Only Pantalone has an ever present smile on his face, fingers clasped in front of him and sapphire rings sparkle in the ballroom light.

"Looks like Capitano's estimated soldier caught everyone's attention. My, my, how curious and nosy the people can be…"

"I understand the curiosity though," admits Childe, arms crossed to prevent laying even a finger on his blade, that is resting on his hip. "This person sounds like an interesting specimen… I've heard of his talents in both strategy and tactics, and it seems like his strength is a legend. I'd love to spar with him."

"Oh you, thinking only about fights, young man," Pulcinella disapprovingly shakes his head and raises his cane to point in the gingerhead's direction. "I highly doubt our guest will have time to spare, considering the period of time concerning the stay that was mentioned in the letter we received."

"And I believe the majority of that time would be spent with Il Capitano, isn't it right?" Columbina's soft voice must be drowning in the music, but everyone hears her loud and clear.

"..." The Harbinger stays silent and nothing can be read from his body language since he is the only one remaining still in his place, his huge looming figure resembling one of the full-set armor nobles like putting in their halls as a part of interior. Except this one isn't empty.

"So much potential to become my test subject, to be perfected... Yet lost to the lands of Northern regions," Dottore huffs in disappointment, his sharp teeth peaking when he clicks his tongue. "Say, Pierro, can't things be rearranged? I'd happily have our dear border protector as my underling."

The silence between the nine suddenly becomes thick. There is something indescribably tense in the air and only Childe can't understand why some of his colleagues seem to be more interested in how the Captain would react and not the 1st of the Harbingers..

"You know why this can't be rearranged, Dottore," the stare of an icy blue eye would pin everyone to the ground, destroying their will and order to obey, though doing little to scare the Doctor. "And it was favored by the Tsaritsa herself."

The finality of the short statement makes the scientist back down from the proposition he's been bringing up every time the topic touches the Commander, yet ending up the same way as always - with an ultimate rejection.

Three heavy thuds make everyone in the room fall silent. Many heads turn to look at the ceremonial staff hitting the floor the last time and staying still in the hand of a tall, thoroughly dressed man.

"The protector of the Northern border, the glorified and esteemed warrior of Her Majesty Tsaritsa, The Commander has arrived," the master's of ceremonies voice carries like a thunderclap, cutting off the quite leisurely music the orchestra was playing for the dances and entertainment.

The rustle of note sheets is fleeting and not a moment later the musicians straighten in their seats, taking a deep breath. Trumpets boom in a spacious room and make nobles shiver in surprise, some especially susceptible women even lean on their partners for support. The choir and the violins join the triumphant song the brass instruments sing, signaling that the time has come.

Everyone holds their breath as the tall heavy doors leading to the ballroom are being pulled open. Everyone has their gaze glued to a slowly growing gap. Everyone keeps their eyes wide open, afraid that even one blink can cost them missing the legendary sight.

Everyone gasps.

The tall figure enters, posture straight and shoulders squared, confidence evident in every step. Black satin clothes are adorned with golden chains and intricate patterns. The white military coat stayed resting on the shoulders - showing off the position, the closeness to the Harbingers. And then there is the face - a scar crossing the left brow, calm bored eyes, not sparing anyone a glance, which do not fit the other female features of your face.

Yes, the Commander happens to be a woman.

Stopping by the steps leading to the throne, you bow - not kneel, bow, - holding your open palm by the heart and respectfully closing your eyes. Music stops.

“Greetings, my lords. Let Tsaritsa bless you and your mission.”

“Let Tsaritsa bless you and your service to her,” Pierro says, raising his hand. “Lift your head,” which you do, looking him right in the eyes, yet still holding your hand by the chest. “There is time for duties and there is time for entertainment. And tonight, given your rare visits to the capital, I suggest you enjoy the latter.”

“Much obliged, Lord Pierro.”

And with a wave of the older man’s hand, the orchestra starts a new composition, waking up the ones who were in a daze, reminding others they are here for drama.

And the first one to take action is the 11th Harbinger.

“Commander, Sir- I mean, Lady?” The gingerhead is the closest to you out of all his colleagues, having only to descend a few steps to be on your level. “I’ve heard a lot about you, many admirable things. How do you look at sparring?”

“Right in the middle of a ballroom? Quite positively, young man,” your lips twist in a half-smirk, baring a sharp pearly canine. “But I believe the nobles have already had enough shock to take and rumors to create. Maybe another time. Haven’t seen you before though. Are you new?”

“Tartaglia, the Eleventh Harbinger, Lady Commander.”

“Ma’am would be enough,” you click your tongue, glancing behind and noticing how slowly, but surely some of the aristocrats are inching towards you, clearly interested in conversation, Well, you are not. “On second thought, starting a duel right now and here doesn’t sound like a bad idea…”

“I’ve always known you are quite insane,” Arlechino butts her way in the conversation, giving you only a small nod as a greeting. You simply glance at her.

“For years I’ve been hearing of my insanity, think of something new,”

“How about, ‘the one who knows no limits’?” Pantalone’s smile is as dazzling as it’s fake and sometimes your hands are itching to strangle the man. Maybe even go all the way out and bite his head off. Literally.

“The only ones who know no limits are the wind and the stupidity. I’m neither. Who I am though,” your gaze travels higher, to the steps closest to the Tsaritsa’s throne, to there Pierro and the first three Harbingers are standing, “is a wife. And I’d like to have a dance with my husband.”

Not many heard your words, but the ones who did, gasp loudly, staring at you with wide eyes. Which get even wider when Il Capitano, a seemingly motionless statue before, turns in his place and, without a pause, steadily descends to you. Now, as you are standing so closely it becomes evident how obviously your outfits match. The chains, the patterns, even the precious stones - everything. Perhaps it is terrifyingly cute. Perhaps it's cutely terrifying.

“Husband,” your smile again, offering him your hand, which he immediately envelopes in his big clawed one.

“Wife,” is the first word the big figure rumbles for the evening, the void of its helmet staring at you. And that’s all you speak to each other, hearing the beginning of another melody and turning to join the dancing pairs.

“...What was that?” Childe voices what’s been plaguing the minds of the attendees. “First the Commander appears to be a woman, and now she is married to the Lord Il Capitano?” He glances at Pulcinella, who joins his side and decides to watch the pair that caused a commotion have their fun. “Do they not use their names?”

“They find no sense in them,” the Rooster answers just the last question. “And,” he lowers his voice and the ginger has to bend down to hear the next words, “I didn’t tell you that, but the Captain really loves calling her his wife. So be quite cautious while seeking a fight with her. You might end up impaled. By either of them.”

Kaveh

With a soft smile you watch a group of children merrily leaving their classroom, interrupting each other in attempts to tell everyone how exciting the lesson was. They do not forget to grin and wave at you, passing by, and you return the sentiment, contently observing their happy faces and sparkly eyes.

Every time this happens, a strange sense of fulfillment overtakes you - supporting and sponsoring Kaveh was one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. The greatest architect of nowadays is offering his guidance to the young generation, teaching them everything about beauty and practicality, helping them to develop their own creative vision, and at the same time boosting the confidence of kids of all ages. And you couldn’t be prouder of him.

Him, who meticulously prepares for every single lesson. Him, who is oh-so-gentle with his words and precise in his speech. Him, who teaches both Sumeru citizens and people coming from abroad. Him, who is as passionate about it, as he is about his designing job, telling you every single detail of how the lessons went on your way home or over the dinner. Him, who is happy and who makes you happy too with that fact alone.

When the last kid leaves, marking the ending of the final class for today, you glance at the clock. Now Mister Meticulousness will need half an hour to tidy up the classroom and put all the tools away. Tomorrow is free from classes at his (he always corrects your as in the both of you) school, so you can collect your stuff as well - after all, being the manager of this establishment and Kaveh specifically requires your presence. You can be strict and unyielding whenever he can’t and this partnership proves to be successful every day.

Just as you are writing down some financial staff, there is a soft knock on the doorframe. Immediately lifting your eyes you hum, observing a very good-looking woman and a boy, shyly holding onto her hand.

“Hello, how can I help you?” With a quill laid on top of your accounting book, you stand and round the table, offering the two to step closer.

“Ah, hello, miss…” eyes with long, pretty lashes flit to the name tag attached to your clothes, “...Y/n. This is master Kaveh’s artistic school, am I correct?”

“Yes, you are. Are you here to sign your boy up for a class?” You offer her son a sweet smile and he answers you with a small lift of his lips.

“Mhm. You see, he is a big fan of master Kaveh and his works - can study the pictures of his designs taken by Kamera day and night.”

At that, the boy lowers his gaze and blushes a little, digging a hole in the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Oh, really?” A gasp that escapes your chest is one of excitement. “That’s marvelous! I am sure your hopefully soon-to-be-teacher will be very interested in hearing your opinion of his works, young connoisseur,” he giggles, lifting his eyes at you again, and there you see undisguised delight. “Oh, but my bad, I didn’t ask your names…”

The woman’s lips bare two rows of perfectly white teeth as she smiles at you, introducing herself and her son.

“We are from Fontaine actually. But my parents wanted to spend some indefinite period of time in Sumeru for their health and we decided to join them. So while we are here, I thought I’d make my son’s dream come true.”

“That’s so nice of you,” you can’t help but admire her a little for that. “I can tell you first a little about our school, you’ll ask all the questions you need to, and then I’ll show you around. Kaveh should be done with cleaning by then, so there’s a big chance you’ll even talk to him personally.”

“Really!?” That’s the first time throughout your entire interaction when the boy opens his mouth and actually makes a sound. “Master Kaveh is here right now?”

“He is. But can’t promise a long conversation - there are still blueprints waiting for him back at home.

“Ah, right… He is the great architect after all,” the woman hums, staring to the side as if in thought. “Between the commissions he takes and this school he must be making good money. Not to mention so handsome…”

Oh… What a familiar tone, what a familiar look in those eyes. Suddenly that ounce of respect you felt for her disappears.

“Money is irrelevant to him as long as he reaches his goal,” is your restrained response. 

“Ah, of course! Handsome, sweet, kind, good with kids and is not a snob. Sweety, you ought to charm him for me!” She pinches her son’s cheek. “Imagine Master Kaveh as your daddy!”

Oh Archons, again?

There is absolutely no doubt that the light of Kshahrewar is not only well-known and popular among kids, but is thirsted after by women. In a half of a year your school has been existing, there were numerous times when moms of little students made comments alike or some single females trying to schedule private sessions with the architect. What a sagacious decision it was to make group studying only, it saves you some drama, once the legal document is shown. Though there are exceptionally persistent examples…

But this time you pity the kid a little, because he genuinely seems to admire Kaveh. And his next words make you internally cheer for the little guy.

“Master Kaveh as my dad? But mom, I have a dad already,” the boy pouts, rubbing at the pinched cheek. You notice a red mark and two little crescent moons that her nails left on a tender skin. “I love him and don’t need another one.”

“Sweety, you just don’t understand how great it would be to have such a dad! Just trust my word-”

“Ahem, Madame, I kindly ask you to deal with your family affairs once you are out of here. As for the school - I am open for discussion.”

The displeased way she glances at you doesn’t go unnoticed, but you do not show it anyhow, calmly staring back at her, while your hand reaches up to your chest. As if finally remembering her initial reason for coming here with her son, the woman sighs and puts a palm on the boy’s shoulder.

“Of course, miss- I’m sorry I forgot your name…” And her eyes flit to the name tag again.

Momentarily the woman squints from the light reflecting on the metal, and when she blinks the bright spots away, there is a beautiful golden ring on your hand. The hand that is holding the flipped tiny plate with just two words engraved in it.

"Kaveh's wife"

With widened eyes she stares back at your sweetly polite smile. Not saying a word as if letting the notion sink in, you walk to the wall. Grabbing the backs of two chairs you drag them to your table so they could sit, and take your rightful place in front of them. 

“If you are here for something aside from or instead of signing your son up for classes, I believe my name should be irrelevant to you. My status though,” you knock a nail twice on the badge, “must. So… what are you here for, Madame?”

The boy climbs onto his chair right away, while his mother tarries a little, still shocked by the revealed fact and your suddenly changed demeanor. She needs a couple more seconds to compose herself, but eventually she too sits down.

Despite what happened earlier, your conversation proves to be fruitful and fifteen minutes later you are showing around the school, sharing some additional information and answering every single of the kid’s questions. 

When in the last room you find your husband, closing Mehrak and looking ready to leave, the boy lets out a gasp. The sound attracts the man’s attention, and he turns to the three of you with a soft smile.

“Oh, hello there, little guy!” The blond waves at him, breaking the blissful stupor of a child that immediately turns red and hides behind his mother. Surprised, Kaveh looks at you for explanation but, instead, takes notice of your name’s replacement. Oh wow, this again. What was the last time you did that? Two weeks ago?

“Ah, Master Kaveh!” The woman charmingly smiles, batting her lashes at him, which would’ve made you cringe had it never happened before. “You see, my son-”

“Pardon me, Madame, give me a moment,” the male softly interrupts her and reaches for a similar metal plate on his chest with his own name to flip it. It’s almost comical how sour the temptress’s face got in a second.

And there is what for. Now two words are proudly matching yours, engraved in an equally beautiful cursive to remind the world who the two of you become once stripped of your names.

Just his ”Y/n’s husband” to your “Kaveh’s wife”.

And like that one more kid takes part in your lovely school and one suitor less is after one of its founders.

Tighnari

With each passing day of your team’s research in the desert you found it harder and harder to control yourself. Some days you were even on the verge of clawing and biting, tail and ears twitching in annoyance and pupils turning into wild slits, making your hybrid nature more obvious.

Was it because of the research? No, it couldn’t be farther - your colleagues have been making so much progress, heeding your advice and following your lead. Was it the location perhaps? A little, but you learnt how to deal with heat and dryness. Was the process taking too much time? On the contrary, you are on your way home already, having finished the job 4 days earlier than you estimated in the beginning.

Then what on earth could possibly trigger you like this?

Well…

“Hey, forest foxy, want me to catch the Consecrated Flying Serpent for you?”

Ah yes, him.

Never again will you trust the higher ups at the Akademiya to sponsor your team with the bodyguards. Out of every possible candidate, your Herbad-titled colleague concluded that hiring five descendants of Valuka Shuna would be a marvelous idea. 

“They are the desert kind - they’ll be good guides.” “Look how much stronger they are, they’ll definitely protect all of you.” “They are of the same kind as you, Y/n. Don’t you think it’ll be easier for you, as the leader, to have someone akin with you?”

No, it absolutely would not!

Desert fennec hybrids are different from the forest ones - and it’s not even the case of your green and their sandy brown fur or their more brutal physique against your more delicate one. It’s their character and world perception. You’ll never call them barbarians, but they really developed more of the animal nature than your kind did.

And from day one it was a pain in the butt. 

One of your five new bodyguards was clearly the leader - he was bigger and broodier, with more scars littering his body, and his whole stance was screaming of a higher position. When you were introduced for the first time, something lit up in his grayish eyes, which were looking you over appreciatively. You ignored that, more focused on the discussion of the upcoming expedition and making sure the five were aware of what was required of them.

Luckily they were, and, admittedly, they did fulfill their task meticulously, proving to be great help. If only one of them wasn’t so diligent.

You lost count of how many times the leader tried to get into your personal space and you had to move away. Of the numerous invitations to hunt together. Of the endless displays of his strength and abilities. Of the many conversations you didn’t even try to eavesdrop on (they talked pretty loudly) around the topic of when will your shell be cracked and you’d accept the male’s courting attempts.

The answer was obvious, but he just never got it. Even when you called him for a serious conversation on the turning-into-an-issue matter.

“With all respect I must ask you to stop with whatever you’ve been doing to woo me. I have a husband.”

You still remember how he blinked at you dumbly, clear lack of understanding written on the sun-kissed face.

“...and?”

“The heck do you mean ‘and’?”

“Well, you don’t have a mate?”

It was your turn to stare at him speechless, ear twitching and tail curling closer to your legs. It was getting worse than just ridiculous.

“If we are speaking in such terms, then my husband is my mate. So, please-”

You nearly gasped when the male immediately leant closely, violating your personal space and practically stuffing his nose against your neck. Shocked by such lack of shame, you lost the ability to talk or move for a moment, gaping at him sniffing around and humming upon the discovery.

“You don’t wear anyone’s smell on you.”

You were not proud of yourself at that moment, but you absolutely lost it. Sharpened claws dug into his chest and with an angry snarl you pushed him back.

“Get away from me!”

You must’ve been a sight - canines bared and fingers twitching, ready to attack; fur standing on both your ears and tail, signaling your distress and eyes slitted in pure rage while directed at the man in front of you. The worst part? The idiot seemed to like it even more.

“What me and my partner do must be of no concern to you. I told you ‘no’ and I mean it.”

But bold of you was to assume he’d stop. Oh no, it’s gotten worse. Now he was actively calling you a ‘forest foxy’, absolutely abandoning your name and even trying to scent you. It was suffocating - the desert aridity was lighter in comparison to the male hybrid’s pheromones. 

Never in all your academic practice have you wanted to return home so badly.

Fortunately, your colleagues quickly caught on to what was going on and always helped you to escape the unwanted interactions. Plus they were equally as mad as you were, because his individual scent irritated their human noses - and that was the main reason why you and Tighnari, both spending a lot of time around other people, did not practice it. Partly, you are sure, this whole situation was the reason for your earlier return - and you were grateful for their understanding.

However, your stubborn suitor did not dream of giving up. Killed desert animals were still offered to you, stories of his legendary battles with monsters were told for the hundredth time (even though no one was interested in listening at that point) and attempts to lure you with the musky smell once again made. Archons, and the green-furred fennec girls from your teens used to dream of that.

Maybe Lesser Lord Kusanali would be merciful and you’ll meet your husband somewhere on your way?

“Herbad Y/n!”

…wow, that was quick. Not Tighnari, but incredibly welcome too.

“Collei!” For the first time in days there is a reason for your soft smile. Which the young girl mirrors, waving at you from not so far away. You notice a couple more of the Forest Rangers at her side, and that sight alone makes you finally exhale in relief. You are so close to being home.

“Master is here too! Want me to get him?”

Oh, Dendro Archon, thank you.

“I’d really appreciate it, dear!” With a quick nod the green-haired apprentice disappears in the bushes, and you turn back to the scholars of your group. It’s time to abuse your power a little. “We are almost at the Devadaha Pool. Since all of you live in Sumeru City I hope you’ll excuse me for staying behind. As for you five,” your gaze moves to the bodyguards and it’s so hard not to rejoice - soon they’ll be just a memory, “I ask you to accompany the rest of my team to the Akademiya. Then you can consider your job done and be free. Keep the payment for the last three days that didn’t happen - think of it as a bonus for a good job.”

All but one eagerly nod and bid you farewell with wishes of getting home safely. And frankly speaking? You couldn’t care less for that one when you spot familiar and oh so dear big pointy ears with an intricate golden earring adorning one of them.

“Tighnari!” You didn’t want to sound so desperate, you really didn’t. But when those forest-like lovely eyes look in your direction, it becomes clear to you - the yearning has gotten unbearable.

“Y/n…” His smile is dazzling and the way his body immediately pushes to walk to you almost makes the memories of the last weeks’ events go away.

The key word - almost.

Someone grabs your elbow when you want to meet him halfway. Oh right, you already forgot about him.

“Let me go, you, imbecile!” And again you have to snarl and be rude, ripping your arm out of the strong hold and quickly darting into your husband’s embrace. The natural smell of the leaves, the flowers, the sweet and bitter concoctions he makes in his home laboratory, comfort you and your whole body goes nearly limp in his hold. It’s been weeks and you are tired of fighting with the brick wall - this time you want your lover to handle it for you.

“Y/n, my lotus, are you alright?” Gentle fingers comb through your hair and scratch at the base of your ears - a whole ass adult, that you are, wants to tear up. But you can only shake your head a no. “Has this man been bothering you?” This time it’s a yes. “I got you, dear.”

“So,” the browny green eyes sharpen upon staring at the cause of your current state, when it starts speaking, “you are that ‘husband’ the foxy has been talking about? I thought you’d be stronger. Or at least taller. Now I see that I was right and you really can’t be her mate.”

“Oh but I am. Not that we have to prove anything to a stranger. Y/n,” he carefully pries your face from his shoulder, caressing your cheek with a beanie pad, “let’s go home. You must be so-so tired.”

“I am, ‘nari. I am exhaus-”

“There’s no smell of you on her and vice versa,” the desert descendent of the Valuka Shuna seems to not be planning to stop. “Her neck is not marked. You let her wander by herself for weeks? And you keep calling her by the name. Her name should've stopped mattering once she became your mate!”

The hand around your waist tenses and you can feel the claws threatening to tear through the gloves he always wears. You don’t need to look at the face of your lover to know how pissed he is. And if Tighnari decides to attack him and tear his tongue out? You will not stop him.

“I am going to say it once and only once. She is not just a mate, she is my wife, by the Sumeru law and by the blessing of the Dendro Archon. And this fact must matter to you more than the case of her name. So fuck off and leave my wife alone. And if you don’t get it in a civil way - this woman is taken. And this territory is mine.”

With that, the Forest Watcher effortlessly lifts you in his arms and, holding you as if a precious bride, turns around to leave. You haven’t looked back once.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed being called your wife,” you quietly confess, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Especially after he didn’t listen when I said that I am.”

Tighnari hums sympathetically, leaning close to rub his nose against yours.

“Will it be okay then if today I address you as my wife only? When we join the other rangers, I mean.” 

”...if you think I will be embarrassed - make it a whole week.”

With a soft chuckle your husband plants a kiss on your lips, sealing the deal and promising you tranquil days at last.

“As you wish, wife.”

Zhongli

"...and so Rex Lapis takes the form of a dragon, a majestic creature he was born as - the one of whom the fair maiden would never be scared of. Lady Guizhong's robes flutter in the tender wind traveling among the mountain peaks and caressing the earthly scales of the God's enormous body. His eyes, shiny as gold, gaze at her with an unfamiliar softness as she holds a gentle flower - a delicate gift from her lover, the one that proves that under all that armor is a stone heart capable of love. Heart that is beating for her."

To loud applause the Iron Tongue Tian bows his head, drawing the legend of the gods in love to its end. You cannot bring yourself to clap even politely, both hands on your lap, hidden under the table, twitching when a man beside you lets his gloved palms meet each other a couple of times.

It’s the second time you had to sit and endure the baloney from the very beginning to the very end, not to count all those times you overheard it in passing. From the moment you settled in the Liyue Harbor together with your husband, to live the rest of your incredibly long lives together among the humans, you've been painfully aware of their interpretation of Rex Lapis and his relationship with other immortal beings. Before that you rarely accompanied him during the walks, busy with helping Yakshas and other adepti protect the said humans to grant them a peaceful life - as immortal guardians grew fewer, every single one counted.

Never have you ever imagined that knowing so little of the citizens’ folklore would backfire so hard. It seems that people got somewhat bored listening to the stories of Liyue and Rex Lapis, no matter how many interpretations existed. Literature became more diverse in genres and romantic novels were on top of the list, so street narrators started losing their audience little by little. Before it could grow into something more drastic the new side of history was presented to the public - stories about love among immortals appeared and its freshness and uniqueness caught people’s attention immediately.

In their searches for new material, speakers dug through hundreds of volumes. The main interest was the Lord of Geo, of course. If you have a story of a presumably stone-hearted creature ever having fallen in love with someone - that’s pure gold! But who could you present as a love interest of the Archon? It must be someone very close to him and, obviously, no one is more well-known for that than the deceased Archon of Dust.

You sigh, reaching for your cup and declining Madam Ping’s offer to pour you some more tea - for an unclear reason the fellow adeptus joined you two tonight. You have thousands of years of life behind your existence, a soul hardened by constant battles, and mannerism as polished as a jade statue, yet for a moment you feel concerned that the woman would notice a pang of hurt in the smallest of your features.

Zhongli definitely noticed the first time. It was meant to be a date night - simple, but sweet, with the evening lights, delightful aroma of the finest tea and the tales pouring from skilled tongues reflecting the atmosphere of what your nation really is. However, the luck of the land of trades wasn’t on your side, as someone requested the “Guili legend” as they called it. At first you were confused. Then in disbelief, almost turning to look at your mate, with whom you were bonded long before he became allies with the ash-haired woman. In the end you felt something you thought was beyond you - bitterness.

When you left the restaurant, slowly walking back to your house, Zhongli’s fingers gently touched your elbow, asking for your attention.

“Does it bother you that much, my love?”

Bother you? Well… It does feel insulting when someone speaks of your husband having been in love with someone else, but mortals can’t possibly know the truth for many reasons.

“I can’t say it doesn’t,” you admitted calmly, stopping and turning fully to him. He did the same, gazing at you with a hint of worry in those golden eyes you loved so much. The ones, you knew, always looked only at you. “But it can’t be helped, right? There was a reason and mutual agreement why you, as Rex Lapis, made our union unknown to your people, and now, since you are “dead”? There is no one to tell our story. Don’t worry though,” you put a hand on top of his and smiled, when his other one was laid on top of yours in a gesture of comfort. “I can deal with it. I know you love going to the storyteller’s performances. I’ll just try to ignore what they say about you and Lady Guizhong.”

Sometimes Zhongli thinks he does not deserve you. Ever so patient and understanding, you always had your husband's best interest at heart. Marriage, however, in its basis is a form of a contract, and a good contract is all about both sides being equal in everything. And if you must know one thing about Rex Lapis - he never makes bad contracts.

When the audience calms down, the man decides to make his presence and intentions clear by raising a hand. From the corner of his eye he notices you slightly turning your head to glance at him, and he catches a glimpse of puzzlement in your gaze. He can't help but think how adorable you are, even if you deny it again and again, claiming that nothing can be adorable about a several millennia-old warrior. Maybe not, but his wife definitely is, and he thinks with a primordial pride igniting in his chest, that mating with you was the best decision his past self had ever made.

Reaching under the table he rests his free hand on top of yours, gently squeezing it in reassurance, offering you the warmth of himself, seeping through his glove. Just as your shoulders relax to his delight, the raised hand adorned with rings is finally noticed.

"Ah, Mr Zhongli! Such an honor to see a regular, especially someone as wise as yourself!" Iron Tongue Tian beams with a wide smile, closing his fan and focusing his full attention on the history connoisseur. "I doubt you have questions, given your vast knowledge, and I can't wait to hear what else you can add to this already heart-felt story."

You force your lips not to twitch, hiding behind the tea cup again. Suddenly it tastes bitter. But another squeeze your husband gives your hand doesn't let you dwell on it too much.

"You are correct, I do have some knowledge to offer. However, it might disappoint you, as it will completely destroy the story of the Geo Archon and the Archon of Dust."

The whispers ran through the crowd like a powerful wave, and you can see confusion written over every single face. But also, there is intrigue.

"I took it upon myself,” Zhongli however continues, “to invite Madame Ping to back up my story, as she was the witness to it," the elder woman - a well-known Adeptus that doesn't hide her existence among mortals - nods with a soft smile.

"I read this in legends a long time ago, but remembered only when the 'Guili legend' became popular. Rex Lapis indeed had a lover, however it was not Lady Guizhong," the gasps are almost deafening. Just as your quickened heartbeat.

And for the next hour the man by your side and the elderly-looking woman that joined you tonight proceed to tell the story of the adeptus, who was the first and only to ever bring the Geo Archon to his knees, to be worshiped like a goddess by his eyes, by his words, by his very heart. Of a warrior, whose fierce eyes and valiant nature made a dragon in Rex Lapis roar in delight. Of the woman, who entranced him with her beauty, caring soul and motherly attention directed to other adepti - Madame Ping adds with a laugh of how the two created a parent-like dynamic even before they became official (at that you find it so hard not to turn bashful).

They tell the legend of the silk flowers - the ones you might see everywhere in the vast lands of Liyue. How the Geo Archon personally asked the Dendro Archon for guidance to cultivate the tenderest of flowers, how he taught his people to make the delicate fabric out of it, but even then it couldn’t compare to the skin of his immortal mate.

They tell stories of how annoyed she was when the god turned into a dragon to fall asleep somewhere in the depths of the earth for years without telling her prior, and how he returned with the purest stones and metals and with his own hands forged the pair of matrimonial rings (yes, the ones wrapped around your fingers to this day).

Madame Ping fondly speaks of all those thousands of years of protection the said adeptus spent to make sure that her godly spouse’s people were safe and maybe just a tiny sliver of pride rushes through your heart at the public acknowledgement.

“But she wished not to be known,” the woman sighs and you know she glances at you reproachfully. Well-deserved, given the circumstances you are in right now. “Thus it’s not much of a surprise people made a mistake like that. Besides, you won’t find much information in written sources about her either way.”

 “But she must have a name at least!” Someone from the fairly grown crowd exclaims.

“That she does,” Zhongli nods, lacing his fingers with yours under the table, lips tugging in a calm smile, when you squeeze his hand in return. “Though I am afraid it would be pointless to try and find out now - we wouldn’t want to disturb her mourning the departure of her husband, would we? After all, they must’ve loved each other so much.”

“But how can you be so sure?”

“Because,” golden eyes are on you, catching yours, pulling you in, whispering for your soul and heart to get lost in them, “I can understand how this love was born and got to bloom. My wife showed me that.”

🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝖜𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 004. — 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 | 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut, hints of angst

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: initially, he played with you. manipulated you into his trance because it was his calling, hypnotizing you to fall under his mercy — he never expected you to do the same to him, to be intoxicating, to be utterly addicting.

𝖜𝖈: 2.9k

𝖈𝖜: oral (f receiving), fingering, edging, piv, unprotected sex, cumming inside, slight dacryphilia, hints of unrequited love, hints of manipulation (since hyunjin's a siren-)

— series masterlist

His fingers on your skin cold, wet, enticing. His pale lips made their journey against your body, kissing and leaving moist patches on moister skin, giving a bite or two, simply to hear you whine, to feel you squirm beneath his touch. You never wanted to miss it, his touch, always urged for more when he was on the brink to pull away.

You met Hyunjin by the lake, as always from the very moment you had first encountered him – a picknick by yourself, a book on your legs and the sun in your face, and he had stood before you. Had sung a melody so pretty you’d been under his mercy momentarily; and ever since you’d been addicted. Hyunjin needn’t to sing to lure you in anymore, needn’t to use his voice on you to make you want him; you started coming to the lake voluntarily, always waiting for him to show up again, always eager. Maybe his voice had put on a permanent effect on you, a long-term spell. Maybe your longing for the man was illusionary, created by him simply to toy with you – to have his fun before he vanished again, because he never stayed. The very moment he left you and him satisfied he was gone in the blink of an eye, before you’ve had the chance to come to your senses. He slipped away from under your touch as quickly as he emerged, as though not real at all, as though a produce of your imagination.

Hyunjin’s teeth grazed your skin, not leaving a spot of yours untouched, not tended to. You were laying on wettened grass, green and fresh beneath you, paying little mind to the way it soaked you, the way it made you shiver in your place. You’d started to care far less about your clothes or hair soaking whenever with him, started to be reminded of him when in contact with water, in its simplest form – drinking a glass you imagined his wet lips on your own, taking a shower you felt his body all over yours, his hands on your hips and his chest atop yours. It was pathetic almost, reeked of hopeless desperation; and then you kept coming to the lake, kept coming and looking for him, kept stilling desperation only for it to flame within you again, not seconds after your ways parted.

The sky above you made Hyunjin’s figure hovering over your own seem vibrant, glistening almost against grey heavens and fog, beaming in shining droplets of water against cold autumn which lay everything in gloom darkness. His body was everywhere, indulging into you, fully submerging you into the spell of his, into the illusion of his love. You lay under his mercy, hopeless with every touch he granted you, needy for ever more when he as much as shifted in his place. His lips continued their journey on your body – giving a kiss to your temple, to your forehead, far too tender, far too loving; moving on to lips and jaw, more urgent now, more vigorous, mouth having missed yours, inhaling your every sound, making your breath his own, bitten lips caressing chin, biting at sharpened jaw; kissing down delicate neck, teeth breaking softness of thin skin, painting dark flowers onto body, nearly drawing blood; moving down to nibble at shoulders, at collarbones and chest, to soothe with kisses momentarily; doting on waist and hips, leaving matching bruises, painting images of love. You doubted it was any more than that, an image simply – yet you let yourself get lost in it, letting yourself lull into prettiest colours and promises, if only for the moment, if only for the few hours spent with him.

Hyunjin looked up at you from beneath his lashes, long and dripping water, seducing you with not more than a gaze. His eyes dark, deep, bearing oceans. He had the powers to drown you, and you were foolish enough in trying to swim.

His hands accompanied his lips on their path across your body, though it was a far messier one. His palms everywhere at once, halting on cheeks or breasts or hips for only mere moments before they were gone again, eager to touch more of you, to explore your every inch, your every hill and vale, the very flaws upon your skin. He was everywhere and nowhere, leaving you hungry for his hold, his grip on you yet granting you more than you were capable of taking. He marked you entirely as his, going as far as marking your soul, carving his name into its’ pages for you to never forget, to always remember. He was intoxicating, manipulating, impossible to refuse.

His kisses tickled your thighs. You lay exposed before him and he latched onto your inner plush, softly, giving kitten licks to pubic bone, only to kiss, just to see you squirm. He was taking his time with you, testing his own patience – you were long hot and bothered, and Hyunjin – seemingly composed – wasn’t any better. Every of your whimper, your every spasm and plea drove him further to senselessness, to overbearing thirst. He didn’t know quite when his touches on your body started to linger, when his heart started aching whenever he submerged into the lake again, whenever he left you laying on the grass only to come back the next day to find you in the same spot, waiting for him. He didn’t know when looking at you started to pang at his heart, because suddenly aware of the impossibility of it – such feelings weren’t in his nature. You shouldn’t be the one luring him in, you shouldn’t be the one taking up every last bit of his mind, you the only thought playing on a loop. You shouldn’t have the same effect he had on you; it was his power to have, a mere human like you wasn’t supposed to confuse everything he’s thought to know about himself.

He kept teasing, didn’t let your whines of desperation get the better of him. He liked taking his time with you – it allowed him to stay with you longer under the pretence of simply looking for pleasure. He watched you, your every move – your body was covered in purple and blue, in blemishes and marks he’d created, his love blossoming on your skin. Your face was contorted, seemingly struggling, longing simply for relief, for more than Hyunjin was giving you now. His lips grazing your skin, moving closer and some more to your core only to pull away, to let his hands wander upon your body and lay his kisses onto tummy or thighs. You chased after every touch, body moving wherever his hands met, arching and pleading. Your hands helpless – you didn’t dare touch him, because you deemed it too intimate. He would turn real if your hands caressed him the same way his ones did, and you felt far too weak to contain yourself from falling under his spell fully, if he only felt attainable. You let a conscious distance, to save yourself, to save your heart – you wondered if it was all too late entirely.

It felt like salvation. You had almost lost hope, had almost started begging and pleading for relief when suddenly you felt it, Hyunjin’s lips on your core, testing waters. Giving kitten licks only to sensitive clit, soft tongue against wetness. It was far too little to what you needed, what you had begged off him for the past half hour you had lay before him, yet the little pleasure he granted, teasing and edging and mean, was enough already after all to send you through insanity. It made you want more while fighting oversensitivity, it had you pleading for his body while the tip of his tongue alone was far too much to bear. You wanted him entirely while having him excessively.

And Hyunjin wanted you to have him, wanted to be yours. Near impossible to resist your wishes he gave in, after all, despite wanting to drag this affair out, to lay with you until late morning hours, side by side throughout hours of dark. He dove in, mouth now lapping onto you, barely capable to contain his own urges – your smell was enticing, your taste more so, the way you felt beneath his touch made Hyunjin forget all about his very being, the bare purpose he walked this planet for; to lure in helpless humans, to sing prettiest melodies and eat them alive. He forgot all about it when his tongue licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, his groan vibrating through you, the tune of his voice intoxicating you. He forgot all about it when his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, drawing blue bruises, when his mouth sucked onto your sensitivity, when he kissed around your core, when he returned to your entrance, tip of his tongue prodding against. When your fingers found his wettened hair, entangling into it, fiddling with strands, pulling at his scalp and his head closer, drawing pain he moaned at. He forgot all about himself in you, and it scared him. Hopelessness like this, not less about a human like you was foreign to his kind, his species, and he wondered if he was twisted. If maybe not true to his nature at all, too weak and foolish to be a creature of seduction, the very embodiment of lust.

Though he couldn’t mind, not with you beneath him, not now. You were writhing underneath his touch, muttering his name in whines and whimpers. His mouth’s ministrations never halted, never stopped on your cunt – he made you soak in arousal, his tongue back on your clit and two of his digits teasing at your hole. Your hips rutted against him, careless of the way you shoved him deeper into you. He enjoyed it, you were aware – Hyunjin was neither scared nor incapable of holding down your hips to keep you still, to have his way with you, yet you learned he enjoyed feeling you fuck yourself against him on occasion, rutting and grinding your pussy against him to your liking, using him as nothing more than a tool for your pleasure. He enjoyed your desperation, your visible frustration – it was teasing malice under pretence of permitted control.

His fingers entered you with no resistance, wetness gushing out of you, your back arching into him, feeling a portion of possible pleasure with the curve of his hand, the pressure of his palm against your pubis. He kept a steady pace while rising to your chest, lips kissing wherever they lay, nibbling on skin, teeth grazing hardened nipples. The pads of his fingers caressing the cushion within you, prodding against it, eliciting sounds of you he dreamed of in his sleeps. Your voice whiny, breathy, hushed.

“Please… Hyunjin.”

He wasn’t one to deny you – had once been though learned the pleasures of giving into you. He understood without much more, with two of your words, not more but a plea, a hopeless attempt at asking for more, asking for something, anything; asking for him. You would never say the words – I want you; I need more of you; I want this to last forever; Stay – and yet Hyunjin liked to pretend it was the meaning behind your begging, the very core of your longing, your craving for him. Liked to pretend for feeling naïve himself to wish upon you, upon a life with you. If he pretended you wanted him as much as he wanted you it eased his aching heart, his yearning soul. If he pretended, he could bear himself a little more, the pain that final reality brought upon.

You were close, Hyunjin could feel it. Your walls were clenching around him in spasms, your voice a higher pitch, your legs on verge of giving out – you pleaded, further and further, his thrusting continued, increased in speed, his palm coming in contact with your clit with every movement – and he pulled away. Watched and watched you intently, and denying you the bliss of orgasm right when you’d swear to be tasting it on your tongue, right when it was within fingers reach. You whined out, long and drawn out, frustrated. Hyunjin has taken what you needed most when you needed it most – an irony within itself, seemingly his entire persona; disappearing when you most wished for him, after giving you a mere taste of it.

His fingers left you, frantic suddenly, remaining patience of his vanished. One would not blame him – the way you stared him down, desperation laced beneath your eyes, your lips caught between your teeth, your hands clinging onto him, pulling him closer, legs caging him in; anyone in love would have fallen far deeper, and he was no exception. His heart swelling at a sheer look at you, your touch igniting fires within him, so very untypical, so very strange. Though he didn’t have enough time to overthink it – you pulled him in for a kiss, deep and passionate, breathless. He melted into you, your mouth a shore his waters collided with, pulling him deeper into you, turning him to an addict.

His erection – painful and abandoned – lay hard between your bodies, cold against your thigh, tip against your core when Hyunjin shifted. He grew impatient, his very own tedious ministrations on you having weakened him just as much, more so, you’d argue. He was leaking, pearly white cum dripping down the length of his shaft, painting his blue veins in white, making you salivate at the sight alone. You arched into him, back lifting from the grass beneath you slightly, enough for Hyunjin to hook his hand beneath it, to draw you closer. The other hand guiding his tip against your entrance, spreading his precum against your slit before nudging in, finally, entering you slowly, inch by inch. You were sensitive, spent after simply teasing, Hyunjin pent up, denied – both of you would last laughable seconds if you only lost an ounce of control, of carefully tended composure. Overwhelming pleasure flooding your bodies, two whimpers of desperation merging into one at sheer contact – none of you moved yet and both of you reduced to a hopeless mess, embarrassing if the circumstances were different. Right this moment, with Hyunjin’s body atop yours, with his tip teasing at your cervix and his hands holding a tight grip on your flesh neither of you was clear minded enough to care. Lost in the other, indulging in the sight, in the scent and feel of skin against skin, wettened, laced in water and sweat, dripping pearls grazing shoulders and tummies and plush thighs, cold water everywhere.

And Hyunjin started moving. Fluid motions against you typical for him, body moving in soft waves always, whether he was walking or fucking into you. His hips gave you no chance of catching your breath – you felt losing control of your body as his own swam against you, pulling out of you until the tip to enter you entirely again, deeply, deeper with every thrust. Dignity, control, coherence left you bit by bit, with every kiss Hyunjin granted against your temple, onto your neck, littering you with wettened paths of his lips on your skin. With every further second you drowned into him, deeper and with no return, sinking meters of depth he presented you. Your hips desperate, chasing his own, your hands homeless, searching for a leverage, for a steady place to stabilize.

And tears rolled down your cheeks, wet and thick, droplets of water against your skin. More tears with every of Hyunjin’s thrusts, with every additional kiss, with every time his palm pressed onto your body harsher, as though scared you’d slip away from underneath his touch. His hips stuttered at the sight of you – entirely water, him having made you, wetness on your body; behind your lids, on your lips, wetness on your cunt. He had lay you in waters entirely, having lulled you into his world, having made you his, and his mind reeled off any sense. He was obsessed with you, addicted hopelessly. His body spasming, two of his digits toying at your clit desperately – he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm out much longer so hoping you would reach yours.

Your legs tightening against his torso, your nails clawing into him, daring to draw blood, painting desperation onto his body, your face contorting into pleasure, brows furrowed and mouth agape, head fallen into your neck – and you came in gushing wetness around him, coating him in your release, fluttering around his length enough to pull release out of him in spurts of white, coating your walls, wetting you further. You were messes, both of you, panting, chests heaving up and down – and he stayed. Calming down from your orgasm and Hyunjin hadn’t disappeared. His lingering touch on your body, his lips remaining on your skin, your jaw and neck and shoulders, licking over the bruises he'd drawn onto you. He stayed to lick your mixed release off you, lapping up your essence, basking in your scent, the taste of you. And his heart clenched when it was time to leave, after all – though not with a last longing kiss against your lips, slow and drawn out; maybe you should keep hoping, maybe you shouldn’t quit seeing him by the lake day by day, after all.

@reianagarcia @mixtape-racha @bbyboychanyeol @artisticbirb @fire-08 @lxverss @unlikelysublimekryptonite @aiko0invalid @salfetkablog @saintriots @boi-bi-ahaha @summer3sworld @bangchans-angel @jenos-eye-smiles @alnex05 @imwithurmother @yangjeonginswifee @hydroyaksha @starlit-rin @channiesgoodgirl @lizzetmv @poody1608 @fandems @stanskzsstuff @cypher-girlx @kayleigh-28 @jetblackbelle @agnes-king @seoseoya @lipstickandloveletters @viviixlyy @hanjisungsgirl @having-an-internal-crisis-rn @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky

@katsukis1wife

SCREAAAAAAAAMS

🛐🛐🛐

⋆｡° ✮ minors dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinktober masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: belly bulge, size difference, praise

⋆｡° ✮ adult Neteyam art was made by the amazing @cinetrix 🩵

Neteyam has always been obsessed with you.

Obsessed with the way you keep up, how you make yourself fit in, how fast you learn. The way your fragile body climbs almost as high as any omatikaya can, how fast you can run with such short legs, how good of a hunter you’ve become during the months of his training. Obsessed with the way you carry yourself, like you’re one of the people, born here where your heart belongs. Obsessed with the way you treat others, sweet and kind and lovingly, always so caring.

And most of all, obsessed with the way your tiny little cunt can swallow his cock all the way down to the base, until a not so small bulge appears on your lower stomach, where your body struggles to make him fit.

Neteyam is obsessed with how stubborn you are, how your brows are knit together in concentration as you lower yourself onto his length. Another inch of him slides into you, your mouth slightly agape as you collect your breathing, and he can’t help but smile, with his eyes entirely fixed on the bulge of your tummy.

"I‘m so proud of you, little one", he says softly. His hand moves from your thigh to your stomach, his palm caressing the place where your body gives way to make room for his size. "It’s halfway in and you’re doing so well. Look how perfect you are. You really are made to take me."

A soft laugh leaves your parted lips, as a small droplet of sweat rolls down your temples. You‘d doubt that, but you’re not in the mood nor are you capable to argue with him over this right now. Besides, you already know Neteyam would never agree that you aren’t his perfect little human and that you weren’t actually made to take his cock in all of your holes. Those are facts not even eywa could convince him to let go off. So you let him. And maybe he’s right.

Bracing yourself with your arms on his chest, another inch of his never ending cock sinks into you. The slide is smooth and fluid, arousal and specific oils used as lubricants helping you take what you thought wasn’t even humanly possible.

"Such a good girl, so good for me", Neteyam coos, and his praise slowly begins to add to the warmth spreading in your belly.

Lifting yourself up, you let his cock drag over your soft, spongey inner walls until only the tip of him rests inside you. There’s little to no resistance once you lower yourself onto him again, and you push down, down, down, until your clit kisses his pubic bone and you’re flush with one another, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle.

You feel full. So incredibly full.

Instinctively, your own hands reach for your tummy, laying both of your soft palms over Neteyams bigger one to pet over the prominent bulge.

"Feel how deep inside you I am?", Neteyam smiles, "I‘m all the way up here, see?"

He then gently presses down where the tip of his cock is nestled inside you, and your eyes roll nearly all the way back into your head. A desperate little whimper escapes you, once his hands wander from your stomach to the backside of your thighs, where he lifts you up and slowly lowers you again. He repeats the same motion a couple of times, before his pace grows quicker.

"M-More, please", you whine, before your arms encircle his neck and you bury your face into the space of his shoulder.

"Can you take it?", he asks, half teasing and half of actual concern. Instead of a verbal response, you put some strength into your trembling thighs to take the lead for a few harsh thrusts, making him groan deeply as you bounce on his cock.

Yes, Neteyam is obsessed with you.

Obsessed with the way you can take his cock all the way down to the base. Obsessed with the way your body can adjust to his size so he can thrust into you without holding back. And he’s obsessed with the way you bring a grown Na’vi warrior and future olo’eyktan to his knees, by using your tight, delicate human body like you’re his personal little cock sleeve. He’s obsessed with the way you still manage to bounce on him like it’s nothing, even though your whole body is trembling with desperation and oversensitivity.

Neteyam is obsessed with you and it’s justified, because you got him wrapped around your pretty finger and there’s no place he’d rather be as buried deep in his favorite little human.

yuuta masterlist

series:

Chimera (in progress 1/7) a collection of moments between you and your older brother, a relationship that has no rival. After everything the two of you have been through together, is it possible to feel this way about anybody else? And even if it’s wrong, do you really care? In the words of Antigone: “to reverence kith and kin can bring no shame.” nsfw. dead dove: do not eat. brother/sister incest. blood, injury, death, yandere. fem reader.

one-shots:

Morning Routine (5K+) yuuta wakes up in the morning and tries to go through his morning routine normally. but he can’t stop thinking about you. nsfw. dub-con (cursed speech use), bdsm (sub!yuuta), anal sex, pegging, chastity cage. fem reader.

Birthday Girl (3K) an afterparty just for two.  nsfw. fem reader.

Devotional (3K) yuuta gets hot and bothered while giving you a back massage. nsfw. fem reader.

Deserve it (2K+) yuuta comes home to you after a long day, and there’s nothing he loves more than that. nsfw. fem reader.

I’ll be your anchor, I’ll be your lover (3K) your resemblance to your mother inadvertently makes the line between your relationship with your father blurry and messy. nsfw. dead dove: do not eat. father/daughter incest, dub-con, drug use, age gap. fem reader.

stick(l)er (4K+) After a run-in with Grimetown’s sleazy cop Nanami, you’ve come to the DMV to replace the sticker that was stolen off your car from a certain freeloader. You’ve got to convince the DMV employee, a stickler for the rules, that you quite badly need this problem squared away today. nsfw. gn afab reader.

stroke god (2K+) Yuuta comes home to his partner in an awful rut. Who else to help them through it but their alpha? nsfw. gn reader. omegaverse.

the innocence of (4K) Yuuta finally confesses his feelings for you despite the fact that any relationship between the two of you would violate the Jedi Code. sfw. gn reader. star wars AU.

thirsts:

deepthroating

69 position (AO3 link)

Yuuta’s angel (AO3 link)

Yuuta-nii

Inuokko x reader

Yandere yuuta

Do not repost, translate, or modify my works. Do not recommend my tumblr on any social media sites (i.e tiktok, discord, twitter, etc). Do not feed any of my writing into AI. Thank you ♡

back to main masterlist

a comic about meeting your younger self :)

Thank you for reading :)

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¯\_(ツ)_/¯

🍂🍁🦦🍂🍁

reducing the strongest sorcerer into a whiny needy mess underneath you. riding him as he looks at you with a dazed expression + praising you

🧍🏽‍♀️

cw: f! reader, cowgirl, cocky gojo -> whiney gojo, overstim, unprotected, spanking, praise, 18+

gojo, your boyfriend who‘s insanely cocky— he literally doesn‘t know when to shut up sometimes, he just talks and talks, incredibly cocky, his drastic irksome ego was practically as just as big as his little friend between his legs.

the only way to really shut him up— is to just ride him. his words would only then turn into soft babbles and whimpers, leaning back against the bed as he watches your hips move and jerk and jostle against him—

his eyes were half-lidded, tiny pants leaving his lips before he mumbles a needy. “b-baby, you‘re so evil— you know i can‘t . . think straight with you ridin' me like that—fuckkkk.”

“i told you to stop talkin', satoru,” you spoke with a slight smug grin forming on your face— he‘s buried balls deep— his head slightly goes back, sweetened little whimpers slipping past his pink glossed lips, a hand covering his face— he was so so flustered, his ears burned— he was embarrassed. gojo satoru, the world‘s strongest sorcerer was here underneath you, whining and babbling all like a little bitch.

just because of those “evil” hips of yours he‘s no match for, despite all the people he’s fought. those hips of yours were definitely his biggest enemy. no doubt.

“. . . fuckkkkmefuckmefuck—y/nfuckkkk,” he gasps, white eyebrows furrowing, he brings a hand towards your ass—

he can‘t help but smack it again and again, encouraging you to keep up the pace— he was so dizzy, mouth starting to salivate, taking a few seconds to swallow before whining for you again. “making me f-feel so good, baby— don‘t stop, don’t stoppp— don’t . . ”

“i’m gonna stop making you feel good if you keep talking,” you mumbled, slowly grinding your hips against him. you giggled, watching him instantly shut up once you put a hand over his mouth— a tiny muffled whine vibrates against the palm of your hand.

a little . . . m—mpfh? leaving his lips.

gojo was a blabbermouth, so talkative in bed. he couldn’t help it, so it wasn’t exactly his fault— yet you always knew how to change that with the very movement of your hips against him. he laid back, manspread with both sides of his face growing hot.

you made him feel so good— so so good, his grunts that were low usually were whiney whimpers of cute babbles, his voice bouncing and shaking, matching with you going up and down against him.

“. . . oh— s—shit,” he moans, nervously laughing, his cock just thrusting in and out of you, the smile on his face fading once he‘s coming close, tip of his ears practically fuming with heat— hottttt. “gonna make me c—cum early, baby . . ? baby—”

“don’t be dramatic,” you softly smile, your voice a bit seductive—

just your teasing was enough to make him shoot inside you, so alluring it was unfair. you leaned in to kiss gojo— and he moans, the kiss was fairly sloppy, he moaned and whined into your mouth, breath hitching and getting caught in his throat, both big rough hands of his gripping your ass—

spanking it over and over and over as his right leg bounced— it was driving him crazy, almost as if your hips was on cruise control with the way your cunt moved against him— so sensually.

gojo‘s head leans back as you made out with him, your tongue softly grazing against his, he moaned at the sweet taste of your candied lip gloss, coating his lips with prints of it now.

“. . . mpfh—cummingbaby—cum—” he pants, pulling away, strands of spit departing, he whines, giving your ass a rough squeeze, hearing your pussy just squelch and make noise against him, his head is filled up with so much fog— and that’s when he came inside— shooting complete blanks, his mouth slightly opening, lips quivering and he whines a loud “ohmygodohmygodbaby,”

gojo‘s shaking— his orgasm was so violent he had to take a breath, his hands gripping your waist as you slowed down he‘s panting, heavy heavy pants,

his white lashes were half-lidded, completely fucked dumb— you rode him to such a state, he was practically speechless.

gojo wasn’t such a blabbermouth now.

no back talk.

felt it

me right now

i just. ugh😩😩

Lost and found – Chapter 1

adult Neteyam x female human scientist

Words: 3k

Summary: Neteyam hates humans. One day, he finds you all alone and lost in the forest, but quickly decides against killing you. What might be the odd reason for that?

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, non-con elements / dub-con, p in v, creampie, Na‘vi in heat, alien biology, language barrier, kinda dark!neteyam, neteyams pov, size kink, size difference

Notes: check my masterlist for all parts

Neteyam isn’t really fond of humans.

Spider wasn’t an exception. Neteyam was sure that even he would one day betray his family for his own race. The oldest Sully had his reasons for keeping his distance towards them, no matter if they considered themselves his family’s friends or ally’s. For all his life, he hadn’t exchanged much more than a few words with Norm and Max and avoids them for most of the time. Neteyam also makes sure to stay away from the laboratories and most human technology.

It’s not just that he doesn’t like them. Neteyam despises humans. They can’t be trusted. All they bring, is pain and suffering. His mother had raised him that way. And that's exactly why he doesn't hesitate to draw his bow, when he stumbles upon a human female in the forest. She seems to be alone, unarmed and visible lost. An easy target and it would be one less of them on Pandora.

Neteyam takes a deep breath, draws his bow, ready to shoot, but then… then there’s a breeze of wind and some of her scent is blown in his direction. He stops himself immediately.

Usually humans smell gross. Disgusting even. They smell like something they call soap, a weird chemical and something he can't really describe. They just smell like human.

But that little female is different. He can’t pinpoint it. She smells sweet, like a fruit even. Neteyam can almost taste it on his tongue. Hesitantly, he lowers his bow and keeps watching her from afar. She’s not necessarily ugly, not even for a human, but she’s still weird to his eyes. Alien looking. She’s mumbling something in her foreign language, a language he’s never bothered to learn. Was she talking to herself?

She seems nervous, almost scared as she looks around. Paranoid. She’s definitely lost.

Neteyam can’t spot any weapons on her, so he figures she’s not one of the human warriors or dream walkers. She probably lost her people somewhere in the forest. They might’ve been killed by some predator. Neteyam kinda hopes that’s the case.

A light breeze blows her scent in his direction once again and he can't help but inhale deeply. The humans scent clouds his head, like a thick fog that makes it hard to think of anything else than to— to mate. His eyes widen in shock at the realization. The tall Na’vi can almost feel his pupils dilate. His body seemed to act without his consent. Her scent had really triggered his urge to mate with her. A human, of all things. He shakes his head as if that would’ve helped to clear his mind. Of course it didn’t.

Neteyam should feel disgusted with himself. But there was really nothing he could do to restrain himself anymore. Once a male Na‘vi has chosen a female, their body acts immediately, whether they like it or not… He was done for.

Neteyam knows he has to mate right now or the next few hours are going to be really, really painful for him. Usually, female Na‘vi can scent the males hormones too and both of them fall into heat together– if they’ve chosen each other. But she’s a human. She can’t fall into heat. She can’t smell his scent, with her small, useless human nose. It’s covered with one of those oxygen masks anyways. She’s unable to choose him as a mate, can’t form the tsaheylu with him… so why would his body curse him by choosing her?

If a Na‘vi isn’t chosen by their preferred mate, they usually go through heat alone. It’s really painful and can last twice as long without a way to release.

But she’s no Na‘vi. She’s a human. It doesn’t matter if she chooses him. He had chosen her and that should be enough, Neteyam decides for himself.

Quietly, Neteyam jumps from the branch he was watching her from and lands almost silently on the moss covered ground, right in front of her feet. The female shrieks and falls backwards to land on her bottom with a thump. His much larger frame towers over her and a gasp leaves her lips when she looks up at him. Neteyam tilts his head and the movement causes some strands of his braided hair to fall over his shoulder.

"P-Please don’t kill me!" She squeaks. Some of the words he actually does understand and with his ears flat against his head, he crouches down in front of her. Despite everything, he doesn’t want to scare her too much.

Protectively, she holds her hands up in front of her face. Neteyam curiously reaches out and grabs her thin wrists to get a better look at her fingers. Four fingers and a thumb, just like dad and his siblings. Frightened, she wants to withdraw her hand, but the Na’vi is superior to her strength and doesn’t move an inch. She struggles against his hold, unknown words falling from her mouth as she tries to free herself. He can’t help it, the sight in front of him was pathetic and comically and he chuckles. The tiny female looks at him dumbfounded.

With her wrist still firmly in his hold, he pulls her a little closer, until he's close enough to sniff at the skin of her neck. She smells a lot stronger from up close. It’s so sweet and intense, it makes his tail sway in excitement. When he inhales again, he can feel heat bloom in his chest, spreading like a fever until he feels hot all over. His cock stiffens, presses hard against his loincloth. The need for touch was slowly becoming overwhelming and unbearable, eclipsing all of his rational thoughts. He needs her. Now.

Neteyam can feel how her breathing stops, as if she believed he couldn’t see her if she stopped breathing. Cute, he thinks.

With one swift motion, the Na‘vi has the tiny human flat on her stomach. He’s quick to hold her slim arms tight together behind her back, needing just one hand, before she starts to squirm below him. He crouches over her legs, his thighs spread wide to cage her in. "Hey, s-stop!", she protests loudly, "What are you doing?"

"I won’t hurt you", Neteyam tells her with a sigh and it’s the honest truth. Hurting his future mate wouldn’t be very honorable of him. And he wasn’t the type for these kind of things either– human or not. But she doesn’t respond. She only turns her head, to look at him over her shoulder, with a frown. The human obviously had no idea what he was saying, which makes this whole thing a lot harder. But there was something else that slowly got harder too…

Neteyam palms himself over his loincloth and her eyes widen. "Wait, wait a minute–", she wiggles in his hold and unintentionally arches her back against him, much to his surprise. With his free hand, he holds her hips right there. Her body is much different compared to a Na‘vi. Her hips are wide and her bottom is plump. She’s also wearing those strange alien clothes, much to his distaste. To his eyes, they’re simply ugly. And they’re covering most of her body, shielding it from his hungry gaze. But not for much longer, Neteyam decides and reaches for his knife. The human immediately pleads in her native tongue and he rolls his eyes. With a squeeze to her wrists he tries to signal to her, that she better not dare to move. It seems like she actually understood this time, because when he slowly let’s go of her arms, she really doesn’t move an inch- even keeps her arms behind her back. "That’s right", he nods and it sounds as if he was talking to a newly claimed ikran, "Stay still."

With his knife, he makes quick work to cut through the seams of her pants, top and those weird undergarments. The humans eyes are squeezed shut as her clothes fall off of her, leaving her bare before him. Her skin is oddly flawless. No stripes, obviously. But no scars either. So she’s definitely no warrior. Matter of fact, she looks like she’s never been outside before. There’s not a single scratch on her perfect skin. She might be one of those scientists, like Norm and Max, maybe?

She’s shaking like a leaf in the wind and her breathing is rapid and anxious. Neteyam hesitates for a moment, but then he lowers his head to place a gentle, comforting kiss on the nape of her neck and she gasps. "I won’t hurt you", he tells her again, but slower this time. Carefully, he moves her arms and places them next to her head in a position that seems more comfortable for her. He wanted her to feel good, enjoy this too.

Neteyam kisses her again, on her shoulder this time. And then against the shell of her ear. Her ear is soft and round and so different from his own, he can’t help but close his teeth around her earlobe, gently nibbling on it. Then he moves further, trailing small kisses down her spine and her back arches even more, almost instinctively. He moves quietly behind her, undoing his loincloth before giving his length a few experimental thrusts into his palm. His cock is painfully hard, throbbing in his hand. The head is already leaking pre-cum, swollen and neglected and he can’t help but groan and pray that he’s able to restraint himself a little longer, enough to prepare her for his size– otherwise he would probably rip the little human clean in half.

Another wave of her sweet scent rolls off of her and Neteyam‘s lips widen into a smug grin.

“I can smell you, little one", he tells her with a chuckle, "You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” But she doesn’t respond. She’s silent, save for the sound of her breathing.

Neteyam’s hands then find the curve of her bottom. He kneads her plumb flesh, curiously spreading her soft cheeks to get a better view of what he longed for. The human mewls for him to 'don’t look' and 'not there' as far as he can understand, yet she keeps holding completely still. And that only makes him want to tease her even more. With his thumbs, he then proceeds to spread her lips and he can’t help but lick his lips at the sight of her tiny cunt clenching around nothing. She leaks of slickness, the clear, sticky liquid immediately coating his digits as he slides them through her folds. A small moan escapes her mouth and Neteyam can see how she immediately covers her mouth with her small, five fingered hands.

Ever so slowly, he then slides his index finger inside her. It’s rewarded by another one of her sweet moans and the squelching sounds that form once he’s starting to thrust his finger in and out of her. She’s warm and wet and Neteyam feels her heart beat under every inch of skin his other hand can reach. He holds her hip, guides her to keep her back arched and then adds another finger to scissor her open.

Her breath comes in quick gasps and Neteyam can feel her limbs tremble. He wishes he would understand the words falling from her mouth, wondering if she wanted more, if she wanted him to make her come like this or if she was already begging to be mated. He really hopes it’s the latter, because he was slowly reaching is limit. He retreats his fingers from her pussy, his arms encircle her and then draw her bottom closer to his crotch. He leans over her, his body dwarfs her slender frame, his nose presses into the hollow of her neck and he’s inhaling her scent once again. "So sweet", he mumbles and then leans back on his heels.

"Spread yourself for me", Neteyam tells her but the look she throws at him over her shoulder let’s him know that she struggles to understand. "Like this", he then guides her hands, helps her understand what he wants her do to and she gets it immediately. With her small hands spreading her own cheeks, he‘s able to line up the thick head of his cock with her entrance.

He pushes forward with some effort, the tip slowly sinking into her tight, wet tunnel, spreading her wide around his cock. The human bites her lip, whimpering softly when he enters her, hands trembling as she continues to spread herself. "That’s it", Neteyam huffs out a breath, sinking further into the heat of her cunt, "Just like that, keep yourself open for me." His shaft, hard and thick, pushes past her lips and he can feel her soft walls clench around him. It was a tight fit but Neteyam manages to make it work and if the sharp breath he heard underneath him was any indication, it must’ve felt good for her as well. 

Neteyam was completely absorbed by the feeling of the tiny humans pussy. It seemed to lovingly embrace his cock, to massage it and cling to it when he pulls out a few inches. He’s transfixed by the way her plump cheeks jiggle when his hips met hers, so he repeats the motion, thrusting his cock into her again and again. The familiar melody of the forest was now expanded by her moaning and the steady beat of their flesh slapping together.

Neteyam moves his hips fast and hard, panting heavily. His face was bright with arousal, his bare chest wet with sweat and it felt so, so fucking good. Nothing on Pandora could be compared to this feeling, to the tight clutch of this humans pussy and the noises she made just for him– for her mate.

"Shit– you feel so good, so tight, little human." His eyes were foggy with lust, and his shaft twitched and throbbed wildly inside her. The velvety-soft feeling of her walls was enough to make him forget everything but the pleasure he craved. Neteyam wasn’t himself anymore. Everything about her made him lose his mind further, made him want nothing else but to cum inside her and claim her as his mate. The Na‘vi was working single mindedly towards that goal, desperately thrusting over and over into her, chasing the ecstasy of his oncoming climax.

The tiny human below him panted and gasped, shuddering from each firm, deep stroke of his cock. Her inner walls clung tightly to his shaft, squeezing him, flexing around his warm, intruding length, coaxing him deep inside with each thrust.

Neteyam fell into a steady pace, the swing of his hips becoming quick and rhythmic. The slap of skin on skin filled his ears, joined by the breathless panting and moans that escaped her lips, sounding more and more desperate with each passing second. He could see her eyes rolling back as pleasure overtook her. "I‘m gonna come", were the words she repeated alongside curses and moans, again and again and Neteyam came to realize that she was probably trying to tell him that she was close to her release.

Everything was too much. The firm snap of his hips against hers, the lingering smell of sex in the air and her sweet, heavenly pheromones coursing through his system all mixed together, creating the perfect storm to completely break his mind. The human didn’t scream when she came, but her lips parted in a silent cry, followed by shamelessly moaning of words and curses he did not understand and Neteyam regrets not telling her his name beforehand. He wanted her to moan it, scream it from the top of her lunges for everyone to hear. "Fuck, yes, cum for me", he curses under his breath while his tail instinctively wraps around her leg as if trying to hold her even closer, "Feels so good, sweet girl. Can feel you squeezing my cock, oh shit—"

The human comes hard, her pussy clenching tight around his cock as he thrust forward one last time. The Na‘vi groans, ears flattened as he reached his limit with a hiss. He buries his cock deep inside her rhythmically-pulsing cunt, grunting as he pumps his release straight into her womb. She moans and quivers as she‘s filled, his heat pouring into her, filling her to the absolute brim before spilling over and bubbling onto the soft moss below her knees.

Neteyam doesn’t know how much time had passed, how long he had stayed buried inside the tightness of her warm, spongy walls. But the heavy fog in his brain slowly starts to thin out and finally, he’s able to think straight again. When he glances over her shoulder, he finds her eyes closed shut, her face flushed red, yet her features seem entirely relaxed and calm. Neteyam can’t help but smile. Poor thing, he thinks. Humans were known for their low stamina amongst his kind, so it was likely that she must’ve fallen asleep.

The human below him squirms in her sleep, once he’s found the strength to pull out and more of his release seeps out of her cunt. The sight before him is almost enough to make him hard again, but then, somewhere near them, a twig breaks as if something or someone had stepped on it.

Neteyam’s ears rise, senses immediately on high alert. It’s suspiciously silent for a while so the Na‘vi quickly shuffles to his feet, hastily tying his loincloth around his hip again. The humans breathing is still slow and shallow, even as he picks her up. He gently tugs her arms over his shoulder and adjusts her legs around his hips, so she can cross them behind his back. With one hand on her bottom and the other one securing the back of her head, he carries the unconscious human, his mate, away from any possible danger. Deeper into the forest and to the safety of his home, as she was now his. And he would protect what was his.

THE SPICE WAS AND IS STILL SO SPICY 🌶️ 🛐🛐

Lost and found - Chapter 2

adult Neteyam x female human scientist

Words: 2.8k

Summary: Neteyam hates humans. One day, he finds you all alone and lost in the forest, but quickly decides against killing you. What might be the odd reason for that?

Warnings: explicit smut, oral, somnophilia, kidnapping, non-con elements, Na‘vi in heat, scent kink, size difference, semi-public, biting, fingering, p in v, language barrier

Notes: Here is the long awaited pt2 and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as the first one 🫶🏻 (check my masterlist to view all parts)

The tiny human looks so peaceful in her sleep.

With her chest evenly raising and falling, soft noises of dreams leaving her parted lips and hair in a mess.

Neteyam was lucky he arrived at high camp way past the eclipse and everyone was already sound asleep, otherwise he wouldn’t have managed to sneak her into his marui without anyone noticing. His parents would most definitely skin him alive the next morning anyways, when they find out his chosen mate was not only a human but an RDA scientist too. Maybe he could hide her for a few more days of peace, if he could somehow manage to make her understand that she wasn’t allowed to leave his marui and make any noises.

But that was something he didn’t want to waste a thought on right now. He would have to think about a solution for this little problem in the morning. Right now, he was entirely too busy watching her sleep.

Her sweet scent still lingers in the air. Usually it wears off after the first mating but he knew that his heat would probably last a while longer than that. A day or two maybe, he didn’t know. Maybe even longer, given how potent her scent was when it first hit him. Originally, Neteyam wanted to give her space and let her rest for a while, at least until he truly couldn’t bare it no more and had to mate with her again. But it seemed like this case didn’t even need to occur. He hadn’t even reached his physical limit yet, and already couldn’t withstand her any longer.

Neteyam made sure to be as quiet as possible, as he got up from his current position and moved over to her. Utilising years of experience in stealth as a warrior and skilled hunter, he pulls the thinly weaved blanket off of her, to reveal her bare limbs. She was still naked, no surprise after he had left her destroyed clothes behind in the forest. She wouldn’t need them anymore anyways. Tomorrow, he would make her some new ones. Some that didn’t made her look even more like the alien that she was.

Carefully, he repositions her to lay on her back, her soft thighs spread wide enough to make room for him. Neteyam places a gentle kiss on her inner thigh, both eyes fixed on her face. Her features are clam and relaxed, eyes still closed shut and he smiles to himself. He knows it’s probably not the best idea, knows he’s testing his luck but it’s just so hard to resist her.

He kisses her again, on her pubic bone this time. A quick look to her face –still nothing. Another kiss is left right on her core and when she’s still seemingly sound asleep, Neteyam knows he’s good to go. His tongue is gentle on her, sliding from her clit, leaving soft kisses here and there, to her entrance. She tastes as sweet as she smells and he can’t help the excited sway of his tail moving behind him when he realizes. A small gasps leaves her lips, when the tip of his tongue experimentally dips into her. Neteyam stills for a moment and musters her face before he continues.

He’s still gentle but there grows a force behind it, a need desperately restrained because he doesn’t want to wake her. He wants her so bad, yet he knows the human needs her sleep to fully recover. She’s just so fragile, he didn’t want to break his newly found mate.

Neteyam carefully spreads her open with one hand and finds her opening with the other. Deceptively small, but surprisingly elastic. She seems so tiny until his dick was splitting her open, swallowing him up, hugging him deep and tight. He traces his name over her clit with his tongue, marking her most sensitive part for himself, before he slowly slides a finger inside her. She moans quietly in her sleep, her cheeks now flushed red and Neteyam hopes her dreams are as sweet as she was. 

She was getting wet –like, really wet.

He smirks as he laps up some of her slickness where it leaks around his finger and his eyes roll all the way back into his head from her taste. He’s getting hard, too. Playing with her like this was a lot more fun that he thought it would be. Neteyams eyes fall closed as he devours her, relishing in the sweetness of her arousal. He doesn’t even realize how her breathing increases until suddenly, her tiny hands find the crown of his head. She mindlessly brushes through his braids, not fully awake and aware of what was happening yet. But then she tugs on his hair, just as he sucks on her clit. She hums, a confused sound leaving her lips before she fully registers where she is and Neteyam opens his eyes to look up at her. "Sleep well?", he asks her, using the very few words in her language that he actually knows, with a kiss to the little nub that brings her so much pleasure and her hips jerk.

"What the–", her eyes widen in shock and she tries to close her legs around his head, but a pair of strong hands effortlessly keep them apart. Neteyam is quick to hush her. "Shh, be quiet", he whispers, "I‘ll make you feel good, but you have to stay quiet for me."

"Listen, I have no idea what you’re sa— ah!" Before she can finish her complain, Neteyam lowers his head again. Expertly, he finds her clit and sucks. He circles it with his tongue, but when a moan escapes her lips, he stops. His gaze flies up to find her face and he simply looks at her with his brows drawn together. No words are exchanged, until the only sound that‘s heard is that of her rapid breathing. Only then, Neteyam lowers his lips back down again, eating her out like a starved man.

Her thighs quiver in his hold and her hips jerk, desperately trying to get him where it feels best to her. At one point, Neteyams tongue slides over her entrance and dips inside, as far as he can reach and she moans again. And again, Neteyam stops. His eyes find hers, a stern look on his face and she swallows thickly.

"Okay, okay I get it", she murmurs quietly between breathless pants, "Quiet. I‘ll be quiet."

What a smart girl, Neteyam thinks with a grin. The second he closes his lips around her clit again and sucks, he could feel heat spread through her entire body, heralding her impending orgasm. With the way she squeezed her eyes shut, her lower lip sucked in between her teeth to prevent herself from making any noise and the way her hips bucked up —She was begging him wordlessly to make her cum and so he pushed another finger into her, pumping in and out of her wet center. When she starts to tug on his hair again, in an effort to get him exactly where she wanted him, Neteyam can’t help but grind his hard cock against the ground, desperate to get to his release himself.

He then forces another finger inside her and she throws her head back, whimpering quietly. "You’re doing so well, so good for me. Cute little human", Neteyam coos in a whisper, comforting her. A new wave of her sweet scent suddenly rolls off of her, as if she was reacting to his words or his actions, he didn’t know, but he wonders how she was even doing this. For a faint moment, he wonders if it was just his mind playing tricks on him, but then he feels his heart hammer inside his chest and it felt like he had been set aflame. His body was reacting to her scent instinctively. The sensation was particularly acute between his thighs, where an aching need throbbed, beating to the frantic tune of his heart.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

There was that yawning, aching void inside her, and her body needed something to fill it. Her body needed to be filled, Neteyam was sure of it. Her cunt pulsed, clenched around his digits and then a feverish wave of shivers went down her back, making it arch off the floor. Neteyam chuckled and the vibration against her core almost sent her over the edge. But then he draws away from her and sits back on his heels.

Her eyes fly open and it’s almost adorable how she looks at him, as if she was disappointed that he had stopped. Keeping eye contact with her, he licks his fingers clean of her slickness and watches her cheeks turn red– a quality his people did not possess. It told him that she was embarrassed. Flustered. She really was an adorable thing. Still a human, but a cute one.

Neteyam settled himself between her spread thighs, hooking her legs over his arms to fold her into a weird position where she was trapped, not only under his, but also her own weight. A soft whimper escaped her at the sudden closeness and Neteyam cursed the mask she was wearing, because he was close enough to kiss her like this but the thin glass hovering over her face prevented him from it. Instead, he choose to bury his face in the space where her delicate shoulder met her neck. He felt her pulse, rapidly beating, where he pressed his nose against her.

He kissed her soft skin there, while his cock, hard and already leaking pre-cum, glides between her wet folds. He grinds himself against her for a while, relishing in the feeling of her slickness covering him like a second layer of skin until he was nice and wet and ready for her. He draws back a little more, until his tip catches on her entrance and then he pushes himself inside. She’s still so tight, clamping down on him with enough force, it makes him hold his breathe in order not to groan out loud.

Neteyam was doing what his body was clamoring for. He kept filling her, his cock stretching her walls, making room for himself inside of her. She was tiny, but she was taking him. Even better than the first time, he remarked. Her body released more of her slickness to ease the way and finally, he was flush with her. Connected like two pieces of a puzzle. She was keening as quietly as possible but when he moved his hips and thrusted into her for the first time, a moan slipped past her lips.

Where he had left soft kisses earlier, Neteyam suddenly bit down on her neck. Not hard enough to draw blood or actually hurt her, but enough to remind her what she had learned earlier.

"Quiet, remember?", he whispers into her ear through gritted teeth and her breathing hitches. He feels her shift and quickly nod her head as if she understood what he just said. Not the words maybe, but their meaning.

Neteyam feels how she focuses on breathing, on getting air into her lungs. What had once been such a simple, effortless task was now a struggle. He could hear her whimper softly as she gulped oxygen in small gasps and when he thought that she was ready, he snapped his hips against hers. Every part of her tensed, her bottom lip sucked in between her blunt, human teeth but she kept quiet. "That’s a good girl", Neteyam says against her skin, kissing the marks his teeth had left on her.

Unfortunately, the only thing neither of them could keep quiet, where the slick, obscene noises at every stroke of his cock inside her pussy. Neteyam had to grit his teeth hard to keep himself from groaning, cursing and praying in his mind that nobody could hear what was going on in his marui.

The pace in which he was fucking her in switched constantly, trying to make the sounds less obvious just in case any of his family members would wake up. From short, deep strokes, to fast, rapid thrusts that had both of them panting into each others ears.

The little human was close again, he could feel it. She was trembling on the edge of it, squeezing around his cock painfully tight. Instead of the groan he wanted to release so bad, a huff of breathe escaped him. Just barely.

"You know, you really don’t make this easy for me, little one”, Neteyam whispered as she kept clenching around him. Her small arms had laid themselves around his neck and pulled him close, like she was trying to hide herself underneath him.

The little punched out noises she makes every time he thrusts into her and the mewling whimpers she can’t stop every time he pulls out are music to his ears, but she’s just too fucking loud like this. Her noises are barely above the sound of a whisper, but still enough to be heard by any Na’vi– thanks to their distinct hearing.

"Shhh", he coos, "I know it feels good, but you need to be quiet."

Neteyam knows he’s asking too much of her, yet it makes him all the more proud when she finally comes and not a sound falls from her parted lips. It’s a silent scream, like she’s choking on her vocal cords. But in exchange, he soft, velvety walls suck him and clench around him, squeezing tight enough until he’s unable to pull himself out. To him, it felt like she was trying to milk him dry and suddenly, it felt like the whole world came crushing down on him.

Neteyam couldn’t help it.

He buries his teeth in the crook of her neck, bites down onto her sweat slicked skin as he comes –because if he didn’t, he would’ve been moaning for the whole clan to hear. The human twitches below him, her hands clawing to his back as he fills her with his cum. It’s on the edge of overstimulation, but he keeps trusting into her a few more times just to make sure that every last drop of his pleasure was pumped into her pussy, before he finally pulls himself out.

They’re both covered in sweat, panting and trying to catch their breaths as Neteyam sits back on his heels to admire her. Her eyes are half lidded and she’s seemingly on the verge of falling asleep again, much to his amusement. He was going so easy on his mate, yet the little human could barely keep up with him.

For a moment, he doesn’t know what to do with her. It’s not like they could just sit there and talk, let him explain anything to her, so he quickly settles to lay beside her. He would let her rest for a while longer and then, in the morning, he would decide on how to handle the situation.

The sounds of her odd breathing mask were a little annoying at first, but at the same time strangely comforting. It reassured him of her presence, even when he closed his eyes. Thanks to this, he could pinpoint the exact moment where her breathing evened and she fell asleep. He curled himself around her smaller frame, his tail coming to rest over her thigh, gently swaying over her skin to comfort her in her sleep. She was so tiny and fragile, a very primal part of him made him want to protect her even more because of that. He pulled her closer until her back was flush with his chest, her head coming to rest on his arm.

Neteyam laid with her like this for a while.

He wasn’t sleeping though, still cautious of any noise that could imply that his parents or siblings were awake. But the only sound that reached his sensitive ears, where the ones coming from right next to him– the low grumble of her stomach. She was hungry.

Carefully, he slips his arm out from underneath her head. He redresses himself quietly, before he moves outside, in order to find something suitable for her to eat. Fruits would probably do, he saw Spider eat them once. If he could consume them without further complains, she could too. Neteyam didn’t want to let her try any meats or other things for now. Based on her blunt teeth, he wasn’t sure if humans were even meant to consume meat. He would have to ask her what food she preferred, once she had learned how to communicate with him.

A small smile spread over his lips by thought of that.

But when he pulled the woven cloth that represents the entrance to his marui to the side, his heart stops for a beat and his smile drops instantly.

The sight of his brother standing right there in front of him made him swallow dryly. With his arms crossed over his chest, Lo‘ak glances over his older brothers shoulder.

"You’re gonna be in so much trouble, bro."

Oh great mother help him.

the things i feel for a this dude is crazy 🛐🛐🛐

this time it’s different, imagine neteyam knelt in front of you and begging you not to go after he betrayed you? c’mon now guys i can’t be the one who’ll only suffer with this idea that struck me 😕 — wc is 2.6k !!

warnings - vulgar language, neteyam cries you guys NETEYAM CRIES!! my poor baby. oc gets/feels betrayed, one slap mention, where neteyam who is the mighty future leader of the clan kneels in front of you and begs for forgiveness, he fucked up :(

like and reblogs are appreciated! i love you guys so so much and this is 1.2+ followers celebrating gift <3

“i trusted you.” — neteyam sully (★)

part (two) — (three) — (four) of this series.

the na’vi females are gathered to spend time together and talk teas while their significant others and soon to be mate left for a war party. you on the other hand being one of them, or so you thought as you all laugh and bring the old moments or funny moments you all had

“…and that’s how i met tar’key” one of the female navi blushes as she tells her story of how she met her mate years ago.

“that’s so heartwarming, oh mother eywa!” the other females giggle and awe. you’re silently sat as you try to ignore some of the noisy na’vi’s whispering until they mention the soon to be olo'eyktan and your ears perk up

“have you heard about the first born of the sully family being set up for a mate?”

you’re somehow confused and excited when they mention about mating because you knew it was going to be you. neteyam was going to be mated with you.

“yes! and i’ve heard she’s so pretty as to very similar to her mother’s beauty.” the other whisper

her mother? you never had a mother growing up…

“she’s so lucky, honestly imagine being the future mate of the future olo’eyktan? so dreamy.” the girls sigh imagining it and let a soft giggle out. you’ve frowned as you try to thinking deeply and try to make sense in what just the na’vi girls said

the female clan keeps murmuring and talking as they make friends with huge circle and a wooden fire in the middle of the circle, while you’re trying to put pieces together.

what do they mean “beauty of her mother.” when you didn’t even have one? neteyam and you were soon to be mated, yes you knew that and he told you he only wants you in his future but what the girls talked about was another completely different person

you wanted to run to neteyam and ask what you’ve just heard but he wasn’t near by, he has already left to the war party right after he made love to you as a good bye the whole night, you were crying mess being of how you loved this man as he cradled you to his body and held you tight.

you’re confused and somehow trying everything but decide to eavesdrop to what the two females are talking. “i haven’t seen her here, did she not want to join us?” the one asks before the other scoffs,

“of course she won’t, after all she’s the future leader of the omatikaya clan.” the other states, now you’re feeling way too desperate to know about her but it’s breaking your heart to figure out it’s not you

and this means? neteyam lied to you.

“never mind, let’s just get back to what we were list– oh mother eywa! she’s here! she’s here!”

your heart starts to beat faster as your eyes look around to know which one is the so called future leader of the clan. “which one? i see two girls standing!?” the females arch their neck to see more and the other pointing out makes you know who exactly they’re talking about

your heart doesn’t just entirely break one piece following the other, everything around you was blurry. you needed to leave right now.

“excuse me,” you stood up as you made your way out. the na’vi’s asked if you’re okay but you just shrugged them and told them you’re feeling sick.

once you stumbled your way out and walked far enough from the na’vi’s, you finally find yourself on the trees of sounds. where your lover and you exactly made love. of course you two were gonna be mated and doing the deed didn’t bother you at that time but right now?

right now you’re feeling the burning of your skin where neteyam exactly placed kisses and his skin touched you. your whole body felt dirty right the moment you figured out you’ve been… played.

now everything started to make sense, why neteyam always feared of you both getting caught, why he didn’t want you to meet with his family, why he never… a soft sob leaves your lips as your eyes close.

of course that na’vi was better than competed to you.

beauty? her. body? her. has a family? her. everything? her. your jaw clenched as you feel so foolish for blindly trusting a man… a fucking man.

the pain you’re feeling doesn’t compare to when you felt right after your mother abandoned you. this was making you struggle with breathing, your lung tightening with every try you’re making to let air in.

what did you do wrong to deserve all of this?

you’ve really been fooled, you knew everything was too good to be true. you’re now realizing how stupid you were to think the future olo'eyktan mating with some abandoned and adopted daughter who only served as a professional arrow shooter.

“eyaw, it hurts.” you cry, tears freely rolling down your skin. you cry to your mother nature your heart out as everything of this place reminds you of him.

you want to hate him but no, it only keeps hurting to even think about hating him. neteyam was everything to you while you’re nothing to him, you were ready to throw everything from him but he only used you and backstabbed you

meanwhile you’re crying your heart out to eywa, the clan has returned from the war party with few people hurt and non dead. neteyam was happy and eager to tell you the war went so perfect like it was planned. no death and few people hurt but his eyes keep wandering trying to find you

a tint of disappointment settles in him when he realized you weren’t there, but you promised you would watch him from far so the na’vi won’t be suspicious about you two. at least until he makes it official, and today is the day he will make it official to his parents you’re the one he wants

oh how he was so late for this.

neteyam figures out you weren’t anywhere here so he just shrugs his parents and tells them he needs air for a while. obvious that they’re proud of him today, jake didn’t bother and already shrugged his son off

neteyam tries to hide his excitement when people greet him as he made his way to your hammock.

eyeing the na’vi’s and once he checked no one is watching, he slipped in but was greeted with no warmth or scent of your body. “princess?” he calls for you but nothing talks to him back

frowning, neteyam leaves you hammock and climb down to think where you could possibly be. it doesn’t take him long to figure out where you are and jogs to the destination he thinks you’re found.

and just like he thought your body comes to his sight as you’re stood in front of the tree of sounds, your back facing him.

neteyam chuckles as he walks to you before wrapping his arm on your body and pressing himself to your warmth.

you in other hand feel your body tense with his skin touching yours. “i’ve missed you” he groans to your hair as he place kissed on the back of your head then to your neck. you don’t even try to say it back or turn around to hug him.

neteyam does fail to notice your odd behavior and step back a little giving you space to turn around to him but you’re just frozen. “princess?” he calls for you but you just try your best to compose yourself from falling apart

the man in front of you feels his inside worry before he’s forcing you to turn around and face him.

but what he was met with was what he never expected. you eyes are swollen and puffy like you’ve been crying for hours, “who did this to you?” was the first full sentence neteyam utters and you ironically scoff at his words

it was him, he was the one who did this to you.

he tries to cup your cheeks to his large palm but you step back as if his touch disgusts you. and in fact, it does disgust you right now. you know you’ll run back to him if he touches you and you’re not allowing that

“baby?” his breath hitches when you avoid his touch and his brain instantly start to figure out you’ve already found out but neteyam chooses to ignore it until you say it yourself

he tries again by stepping close to you but you were fast to speak. “is it true neteyam.” it wasn’t a question and the way you called his name darkly makes his heart hurt and tell him you’ve definitely had found out.

but he chooses to play dump.

“what is true, princess?” those pet names makes your stomach irrupt in nausea and you shake your head. “don’t call me that, i’m not your princess, never have been your princess.” the way you say it calmly scares him

sure thing neteyam fell for your calmness and mature self but right now he wishes you could just punch him or yell at him.

you’re trying to stay calm before slowly opening your mouth to speak. “you have a…” you can’t even finish the sentence feeling your throat close in pain. he again tries to play dumb but this time you hiss at him silently.

talk about happiness? it can vanish in a heartbeat.

the atmosphere as changed to a heavy one as neteyam watches your broken self in front of him.

“yes.” those three letters were enough to entirely ruin you. you stumble on your own feet feeling dizzy, neteyam tries to hold you from falling only for you to slap his hands away.

“look at first it was just a rumor but then my parents and her parents set us up, set me up.” neteyam starts to try explaining but it only hurts you more. neteyam watches your tears fall and his heart bleeds out, he really wanted to tell you

“i never loved her, i never want to be with her, i never want äeya.” neteyam steps closer, “i want you and you only” you’ve heard the name before, so many times actually that you grew up wanting to be äeya so bad.

the daughter of the tshaik that’s the perfect daughter from the clan and it didn’t surprise she had to be mated with him. what hurt you was him lying and leading you to his great fucked up game.

“i fall in love with you princess, i love you so much it always hurts.” you’re painfully silent and it eats him alive as he desperately seeks for something in you. “i trusted you..” you back away, his touch bringing nothing but pain

if someone from yesterday came to you and told you that this would happen, you would’ve shot your arrow at them but again look at you desperate for things your lover was saying were to be lie.

“with you— princess please.” neteyam doesn’t know why he’s pleading but he knows he wants to wipe those tears and take your pain away. “don’t touch me.” you warn when his fingertips held your small hands

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!”

neteyam froze at his spot, his tail locked between his legs. this was the first time you yelled at him, the first him he heard your true pain through your voice. “i hate you! i hate you! i. hate. you.” neteyam’s ears flatten at your words that were like daggers to his heart.

“don’t say that, please don’t say that baby, please.” he was begging you now. neteyam always chose death than being despised by you.

“you knew the whole time, neteyam” you’re saying it so clam and softly it’s making him feel like he deserves death and every painful torture to be done to him. “i told you i have no one and you were the only person i trusted with my everything and you were the only one i have.” you’re now crying

“how could you do this to me?”

how could he do this to you?

neteyam licks his lips and sniffles, he nods agreeing with you. “i was gonna make it official, today i was going to tell them you’re mine and i’m yours” your eyes widen but you quickly shake them off, you shake your head disagreeing with him

“i’m not yours.” the way you said it was not with in an anger but pure honesty, hatred and disgust. neteyam’s breath hitches again and his eyes start to whelm. “i was never yours.”

you were his, you promised yourself to him last night as he did, you were his first time and first person in everything. you were his future and his own actions took his future away from him.

neteyam could only watch your broken self in yourself and did nothing, the little abandoned girl you’ve hidden coming out and telling him everything last night before making love completely gone. he was met with your side he never thought he would see

“i’ll never be yours.” you knew your words hurt him and you definitely wanted them to just like he’s hurting you

neteyam suddenly kneels in front of you and pulls you by your hips, wrapping his arm on your waist and pressing his face to your stomach to hide himself from reality. “i never wanted you to find out this way, please let me make it right. let me make everything right, please princess.”

he doesn’t care you warned him not to call you that, no matter how hard you try not to be? you’ll always be his princess. you’re just frozen there with the man you trusted giving your soul to just take everything from you wrapped around you.

“let go of me.” you tell him and silently pray he does or you’ll kneel and hug him back.

neteyam’s body shake as he is now violently crying himself in front of you and you’ve never seen him like this. “neteyam, please let me go.” you try but no answer, only whimpers and sobs from the man knelt and face pressed to your tummy are heard

you purse your lips and place your hands on his hands to pry them from you. “please don’t do this” neteyam was the one begging. “we both are promised to one another last nig–“ you cut him off.

“there was nothing last night, last night was nothing but a mistake i did.” your words not only emotionally but mentally affect neteyam. once you start to leave with no words, neteyam panics and get on his feet quick

“you’re not leaving me…” he didn’t know the damage he caused until he realize he’s losing you. you ignore him and walk away but neteyam was fast to hold you by your hands making you turn and slap him across the face

you hate yourself for doing that but you hate him most for making you do that. “i said don’t touch me.” you say coldly, you’re now the woman he never knew. “and if you dare to try to come close to me again, neteyam,” your soft voice he knew wasn’t there, “i will kill you.”

you’re not just threatening a normal na’vi but the actual future olo'eyktan and you don’t feel a slightest fear when you do. “and trust me when i say that.” your words were familiar just like the first time he met you.

cold and unbothered of anything.

neteyam doesn’t say anything when you turn and leave but once you’re slightly far, your face turns ugly mess as you cry.

neteyam’s ears are still flattened as his tail is locked between his legs. right the moment you were out of sight, neteyam felt his world darken and went grey and gloomy. nothing would be the same with out you every again.

it was his fault this happened, he abandoned you just like your mom and everyone else. you hate him now and nothing’s gonna be the same. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” he whispers as he’s standing right where you left him. right where you promised yourself to him last night. right where you gave yourself to him.

right where you trusted him.

i might make this a miniseries? i don’t know lmk in the comments though i’ll depend on my creativity and flow of plot,, i love each and everyone of you!! like + reblog are appreciated and not pressured

I am a(n):

⚪ Male

⚪ Female

🔘 Writer

Looking for

⚪ Boyfriend

⚪ Girlfriend

🔘 An incredibly specific word that I can’t remember

・゜゜・． tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

◌ wc: 7.3k ◌ summary: you teach gojo how to love.  ◌ warnings: wrote this with f!reader in mind but idt i mentioned anything specific so it should be gn as well!, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues  ◌ a/n: this piece relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love? but isn’t necessarily a sequel to it! explores a lot on gojo internal struggles and beliefs (or at least the version of gojo i envision for this universe)! timeline is a bit ambiguous because it hops through a lot of in-betweens but it’s linear for the most part! also placed my own (optimistic and probably unrealistic) predictions of how things will pan out but i don’t go too much into it! i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!! ◌ part ii of conversations on love: i | ii

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signatures of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles a little. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

And you’d think this a rejection if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the red blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

────────────

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

────────────

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

It’s the last few leaves of fall and Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You follow, shaking your head but smiling; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child. 

You gasp, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see red, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Just as Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, like he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

You catch his eyes widen briefly, just a little bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms, your own version of his infinity, just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon. 

────────────

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. And the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through. 

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud. There are too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes; he isn’t wearing his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around already to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

────────────

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

────────────

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you the way he always has.

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan, just to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

And while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. In the many years you’ve known Gojo, you notice that he always comes to places like this to think; you also know that he’s been here almost every single night since being unsealed. 

Sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his six eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him and shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he’s everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m okay,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

────────────

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he can’t name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. Your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

────────────

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does go, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. There are still people filing out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them before clearing his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he speaks louder, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie to you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway. You intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his office; the mini living space still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking an index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

There’s a war in his head right now—a million thoughts and one. Why has he been avoiding you? 

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all wrong. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. The part that hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, you still see eyes holding the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward standstill of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, creating tingles on your knees.

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say; you want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper like it’s fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

────────────

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

────────────

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen like he owns the place, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you (considering he’s never before). 

“Too sweet,” you say, your face scrunching at the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

“Like me, right?” Gojo winks from beside you. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, taking a sip and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand goes over yours for a moment, still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he wraps a hand around yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down but his hand takes yours, interlacing your fingers together. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together—a recent evolution to your hand-holding. But this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. He hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

────────────

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you hear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo, and you aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and he closes his eyes, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he doesn’t know it, but he does the same. 

────────────

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking of how to brush it off like it didn’t just happen. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, putting down your spoon. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s learned leaps and bounds to back out now. So he clears his throat and composes himself then says, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

•

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pulling him in by the hand and lingering there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

It’s insane, now that Gojo thinks about it, how he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

•

It happens during an assignment to exorcise curses out of town. They aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group playing on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is actually pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby areas for other suspicious activity contributing to such a large curse, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam. Gathering your things, you head straight in. 

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind but you still don’t know what it is, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, almost like an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his cheeks so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tries it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped in your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of something steamy in the air. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and red cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in god but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

It Will Come Back

pairing - Scaramouche x f!reader (Au)

AN: This is a 3-4 part scara angst series. It does not make scara look good. If you're looking for scara comfort, this is not the series you should be reading. Reblogs are much appreciated and I would love your feedback to this :)

Word count - 5400

CW/TW: angst, insecurities, arguments/conflicts, jealousy, suggestive (nothing explicit), crying, heartbreak, mean! scara (sort of), unrequited love, hurt/no comfort

Header art credit

When he can't give you what you need but gives it oh so willingly to someone else...

PART 1 - Shatter me | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

In a dimly lit cafe, you sit across from Ayaka and Thoma, sipping at a lukewarm cup of tea. The ambiance is cozy, but the warmth of the place fails to reach you. Your gaze drifts toward the window, where raindrops streak down the glass.

"I know I should look after myself first," you confess. "But it's just... so hard."

Ayaka places a comforting hand on yours, her eyes filled with concern. "We understand, (Y/n). Living with him must be emotionally draining."

Thoma chimes in, his expression a mix of sympathy and frustration. "It sucks that you cannot change the dorm room arrangement until graduation. But at least there are only a few months left."

You nod, trying to force a smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. "Yeah, just a few more months," you reply, sounding weary.

Ayaka leans in, her voice gentle. "You don't have to live there, you know. I know you already paid for the dorm, but you could stay with us. We have plenty of extra rooms, and Thoma already lives with us."

Ayato, who had been quiet until now, narrows his eyes and speaks with conviction. "She's right. You don't have to endure this. Come live with us. We'll take care of you."

Your heart swells with gratitude for their kindness, yet a heavy cloud of uncertainty lingers. "I appreciate it, really," you begin, "but... I don't want to run away from my problems.”

Ayato interjects gently, "I understand, but you already have a lot on your plate. The semester ends in a few months, and then you graduate. On top of that, you have reports to submit and jobs to apply for. Living under the same roof as Scaramouche is taking the life out of you."

Ayaka agrees, her eyes full of empathy. "You deserve so much better, (Y/n). Seeing Scaramouche with his new girlfriend is not something you need to experience."

Ayato adds thoughtfully, his eyes softening as he looks at you "You need to draw boundaries with him, especially concerning Miyo, she may be nice and sweet, but seeing them in what is supposed to be your safe space isn't easy on you and it isn't fair."

The weight of your situation bears down upon you, and you feel utterly exhausted, demotivated, burnt out, and mostly empty. The emotional toll of navigating an undefined relationship with Scaramouche, coupled with witnessing him move on with someone else, left you feeling like a ship adrift in stormy seas. You take a deep breath, feeling the heaviness in your chest, and reply with sincerity. "I know you all mean well, and I can't thank you enough for your support. I’ll see what I can do about it. But enough about me, what is going on in your lives?” You switch to a different topic, hoping it would distract you from your thoughts. As the rain outside intensifies, your mind drifts back to a vivid memory, a rainy day much like this one.

You had returned home from a college party; your steps unsteady from the effects of alcohol. Scaramouche, as he often did, had taken advantage of your non-confrontational nature and was munching on your leftovers, a smug grin playing on his lips.

"Hey," you slurred, your voice betraying a mix of anger and uncertainty. "That's... that's my food."

He looked up, his violet eyes meeting yours, a hint of surprise in his expression. "So what?" he retorted, feigning indifference. "You always let me have it anyway."

Your cheeks flushed with irritation, but the alcohol emboldened you, pushing you to speak up. "You can't just take whatever you want, Scaramouche! It's not fair!"

Setting the food aside, he stood up, closing the distance between you with an air of defiance. "Stop being a brat," he shot back. "It's just food."

Anger surged within you, fueled by a mix of alcohol and pent-up frustration. "I'm not a brat!" you countered; your voice tinged with indignation. "And you can't keep treating me like this!"

A tense silence hung between you, the room feeling smaller with every heartbeat. Emotions churned within you like a stormy sea, uncertain and volatile. But amidst the anger, there was something else, something magnetic and undeniable, pulling you both closer. Scaramouche's eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze, like an electric charge in the air. Your breath quickened, heart pounding in your chest, as if caught in the eye of a brewing tempest.

The storm of emotions reached its peak, and before you knew it, your lips were on his, a moment of reckless abandon and vulnerability. Time seemed to slow, the world around you fading away, leaving only the two of you entangled in a whirlwind of desire and frustration. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, and the taste of alcohol mingled with the sweetness of the rain outside. The sounds of soft moans and whispered words echoed in the room, like a melody that only the two of you could hear. The anger and frustration that had been pent up between you and him were all released through shared touches, an explosion of emotions that neither of you could resist. In the dim light of your room, his skin against yours felt electrifying, each touch igniting a fire within. It was a night of recklessness and vulnerability, a night when your world would spin on its axis, forever changing your relationship with Scaramouche.

And now, as you stand in front of your dorm room, the present looms before you like a daunting challenge. Your heart clenches with dread, knowing that the moment you step inside, you'll have to face him, the one who has become an intangible part of your life. The fear of having your heart broken anew grips you like a vice, but you know there is no escape from the reality that awaits you. Taking a deep breath, you turn the doorknob, and the room embraces you like an old friend. Yet, the warmth you once felt has been replaced by an icy chill. Your eyes dart around, seeking any sign of Scaramouche. Then, like a sharp blade, the sight of him cuddling on the couch with Miyo pierces your heart. A bowl of popcorn rests on his lap, and he playfully feeds her the kernels. The scene is so intimate, so tender, that it feels like a knife being twisted in your gut.

You force a polite smile as Miyo waves at you excitedly, her presence a constant reminder of what you lack. She invites you to join them, her friendly tone contrasting sharply with the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "We're having fun, come on (Y/n), join us. This movie is good!"

You decline her offer, offering a weak excuse of having work to do. The truth is that you can't bear to be near them, witnessing the affection he showers on her that was always reserved from you. It's not her fault, you know, but the jealousy and hurt gnaw at you nonetheless. She has everything from him that you longed for but never received.

As Miyo's face drops, you see her disappointment, and for a moment, a pang of guilt tugs at your heart. You know she means well, and her understanding demeanor only serves to amplify the turmoil within you. "Alright then, no worries. Good luck with your work," she says with a friendly smile.

Your response is curt as you mutter a quick, "Thank you," before hastily retreating to your room. The weight of emotions bears down on you, crashing into your chest like a tidal wave. You crash onto your bed, your heart heavy with pain and confusion. Three years – three long years you had been there for him, doing everything in your power to keep him happy. Yet, it now feels like you were nothing more than a convenience, a placeholder in his life until he found someone special for himself. The thought stabs at your heart, leaving a searing ache in its wake. It's not just the fact that he's moved on with someone else that hurts; it's the feeling of being forgotten, as if those three years meant nothing to him. The intimacy you shared, the emotions you poured into your undefined relationship, it all feels like a cruel joke now.

You recall the moments you spent together, the laughter, the tears, the shared experiences that bonded you. It was supposed to mean something – it was supposed to be enough. But now, it seems like all those moments were lost in the shadow of Miyo's presence. The ache in your chest intensifies as you wonder why you weren't enough for him. What did she have that you didn't? Was it her sweetness, her warmth, her ability to make him feel special? You find yourself drowning in a sea of self-doubt, questioning your worth and your place in his life. The room around you feels suffocating, the walls closing in as the weight of your emotions presses down on you. The pain of rejection, the bitterness of feeling replaced, it all swirls together into a storm of anguish that threatens to consume you.

The knock on your door startles you, and you take a moment to compose yourself before opening it. To your surprise and dismay, there stands Scara, his face contorted into a scowl. His voice carries a hiss as he demands, "What's your problem?"

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the turmoil inside. "Excuse me?"

Scara's anger seems to intensify as he snaps back, "Miyo has been trying to be nice to you, trying to hang out, and you keep turning her down, being very bitchy and closed off to her."

Your heart sinks, and anger bubbles up inside you. How dare he accuse you of being rude to Miyo when all you feel is the pain of seeing them together? Before you can respond, he continues, his words laced with exasperation and anger "She's going to be here often whether you like it or not because she is my girlfriend. The least you can do is be nice to her."

His words strike a nerve, and a mix of hurt and frustration washes over you. How can he be so insensitive? Doesn't he understand how difficult this is for you? You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the emotions are too overwhelming.

"I... I don't hate her," you manage to say, your voice shaking slightly. "It's just... seeing you two together... it's hard for me."

Scaramouche's scowl softens a fraction, but there's still a hint of annoyance in his eyes. "Look, I get that it's not easy for you," he mutters, his tone begrudgingly acknowledging your feelings. "But she's important to me, and I won't have you treating her like crap."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, a mix of sadness and anger building inside you. "I'm not trying to treat her badly," you say, your voice steady. "I'm just trying to cope with everything, and it's hard for me to be around you two right now."

Scaramouche seems taken aback by the sincerity in your voice, but he quickly masks it with a defensive posture. "Well, you better figure it out," he retorts. "Because she's not going anywhere.”

It's not that you want to push Miyo away; it's just that seeing them together is a constant reminder of what you had with him and lost. You want to be happy for him, but it's hard when your heart feels like it's breaking every time you see them together. "I'll try," you say softly, the pain evident in your voice. "I'll try to be nicer, but please understand that it's not easy for me."

Scaramouche's expression softens slightly, and he lets out a sigh. "Fine," he grumbles, seeming to relent just a little. He turns to leave, and you can't help but feel a pang of sadness as you watch him go. The door closes, and you're left alone in your room, the storm of emotions still raging inside you.

You slide down against the door, your body shaking as tears and sobs break from you like a torrential downpour. Everything hurts so much. Your head feels heavy with a thousand thoughts, your heart aches with a pain you can't describe. Was Scaramouche ever this protective of you? You wonder bitterly. Probably not, you chuckle bitterly between sobs. He was always the one to roast you with insults, to chime in when his friends mocked you, to treat you like the butt of a joke. He always had a sense of superiority with everyone... everyone except her.

Miyo. The name feels like a knife in your chest. She came into his life, and suddenly everything changed. The tenderness he showed her was something you had yearned for, but he kept it locked away from you. It feels like betrayal, and the pain is unbearable. You had given so much of yourself to him, only to be tossed aside when someone new came along. As you sit there, feeling utterly broken and defeated, you can't help but question everything. Was there ever a chance for you two? Or were you destined to be the one who loved him more, while he gave his heart to someone else? The memory hits you like a tidal wave, pulling you into a painful flashback of a time not too long ago.

Scaramouche had been acting distant, colder and ruder than usual. The tension between you two was palpable, and it had finally reached its breaking point. You remember sitting in your kitchen over dinner.

"Is everything okay, Scara?" you had asked, trying to hide the nervous tremor in your voice. “You’ve been so closed off, recently.”

He stopped eating, frowning as he set his fork down. "Maybe it's time to end this… end this little charade of ours.," he said, his tone somber.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a lump form in your throat. "What do you mean?"

Scaramouche sighed, looking tired and conflicted. "I'm getting tired of us always arguing, always fighting," he admitted. "And I'm tired of you asking more from me, asking for something I can't offer you... something I don't want to offer you."

You felt your heart shatter at his words, but you refused to give up so easily. "I can be patient," you said, your voice filled with sincerity. “I am sorry, Scara. I didn’t mean to come off as pushy. I didn’t know it was affecting you like this.”

But he shakes his head, looking weary and defeated. "It's not about being ready," he says. "I think it's better for us to be just friends. You shouldn't get your hopes up."

Your heart clenches at his words, panic rising within you. You can't bear the thought of losing him, of going back to being just friends when your feelings for him are so much more. "Scara, you can't be doing this," Desperation laced in your voice. "Not now, not when I'm in love with you."

He looks away, unable to meet your gaze. "That's precisely why I can't allow this to continue," he murmurs. In that moment, it felt like your world was crumbling around you. The dinner you had prepared with so much love and hope now lay untouched on the table. He threw the rest of the food in the trash can, as if symbolizing the end of something beautiful yet broken.

You tried to hold back the tears, the pain of rejection and heartbreak too much to bear. You had given so much of yourself to him, and now he was pushing you away, leaving you feeling abandoned and lost. "I don't want to lose you," you said, your voice quivering. "I can't imagine my life without you."

He stood up, and you reached out, as if trying to hold on to him, to keep him from slipping away. As Scaramouche harshly pulls away, you can feel the sharp pain of rejection cutting through you. "I can't deal with this right now," he says angrily, his voice cold and distant. "I need to go."

You stand there, your arms still reaching out for him, but he doesn't look back as he leaves the dorm room, leaving you by yourself to deal with your breaking heart. The tears spill freely from your eyes as the reality of the situation sinks in. The one person you had poured your heart and soul into, the one who had once been so dear to you, had now become a stranger, cold and indifferent.

As you sit in front of your laptop, the memories of that painful night still haunt you. You try to focus on your reports, hoping that burying yourself in work will numb the pain, but it's no use. The ache in your heart is still there, a constant reminder of what you had lost. You remember how he said he would prepare his own meals from now on, how he told you not to wait on him anymore. It felt like he was trying to erase every trace of your connection, as if he wanted to forget that you had ever been a part of his life. The pain is heavy, and the weight of it feels suffocating. You wonder if it will ever end, if you will ever be able to move on from this heartbreak. Graduation feels like a distant hope, a glimmer of light in the darkness of your emotions. The pain is raw, the wounds still fresh, and you wonder if you will ever find the strength to heal. You wish for a reprieve from the anguish, for a way to escape the constant ache in your chest. In the midst of your turmoil, you find solace in the thought that someday, somehow, you will find the strength to mend your broken heart. Until then, you take each day as it comes, hoping that with time, the wounds will heal, the pain will lessen and maybe, just maybe, he will come back to you.

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

In the dimly lit living room, Scaramouche returned to the couch, his eyes meeting Miyo's curious gaze. She snuggled against his chest as they continued to watch the movie, her warmth and presence grounding him. She was a comforting balm to his troubled soul, someone who seemed to understand him in ways he had never thought possible. The guilt of his recent confrontation with you still lingered, but he pushed it aside for the moment, trying to focus on the joy he found in Miyo's company.

"Is everything okay?" Miyo asked softly, her voice carrying genuine concern.

Scaramouche's gaze softened as he looked at her, a small smile gracing his lips. "Yeah, everything's fine," he reassured her. "Just had to discuss something about some bills with (y/n)."

Miyo nodded, accepting his answer without pressing further. She snuggled closer against him, finding comfort in his embrace. Scaramouche couldn't help but feel lucky to have found her. She was a beautiful soul, intelligent, confident, and kind. Despite knowing the truth about his royal heritage, she treated him like any other person, never letting his status define their relationship. (Y/n) didn’t treat you any differently as well, idiot. A voice in his head spoke. He pushed it away, trying to focus on the present, on the happiness he found with Miyo. But guilt gnawed at him, wondering if he had been too harsh on you earlier. He recalled the way you looked earlier. Pale, tired, with dark circles under your eyes - you seemed unwell. Had he misjudged the situation earlier? Were you not being mean to Miyo after all? Graduation was just two months away; maybe you were genuinely occupied with work.

He couldn't shake off the concern he felt for you, his thoughts wavering between the affection he had for Miyo and the lingering emotions he had for you. Scaramouche adored Miyo; she made him feel loved and understood. Yet, a part of him couldn't forget how he treated you. The thought of someone treating Miyo the way he treated you made his chest hurt. Scaramouche's mind drifted back to a time not too long ago when you had discovered the truth about him and Miyo.

It had been a few weeks since you confessed your love, and he had turned you down, leading to a growing distance between you two. He had been avoiding you, but it became difficult to do so since the two of you shared a dorm. He had met Miyo a few weeks before your confession, and he knew he wanted to see more of her. But he couldn't do that while still entangled in a confusing "situationship" with you. That's why he had to end things, for both your sake and his own.

He was careful not to bring Miyo up after he had began dating her. He didn’t know if it was out of consideration for your emotions or out of guilt but his relationship with Miyo was a well-hidden secret from you. However, he longed for Miyo to be with him. He thought you would be at the supermarket where you part-timed, not returning until late in the night. So, he had invited Miyo over to your shared dorm, hoping to spend some time alone with her. The two of them were making out in the kitchen when you unexpectedly walked in. The shock on your face was unmistakable, as if you had just witnessed a murder. Scaramouche quickly pushed Miyo away, and she straightened herself, apologizing to you.

"I-I'm sorry," Miyo stammered, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

You stood there, silent for a moment, before finally speaking in a barely audible voice. "What is going on?"

Scaramouche cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Miyo, this is (y/n)," he introduced you with an awkward gesture. "And (y/n), this is Miyo... my girlfriend."

The sparkle in your eyes immediately diminished as you tried to process this information. Scaramouche noticed your breaths became shallow and short as your eyes shifted between him and Miyo.

"Girlfriend..." you whispered, almost as if testing the word on your tongue.

The atmosphere in the room turned heavy as he noticed your lips quiver. Miyo knew about you, about the situationship. Scaramouche had no secrets with her. "I... I'll just go to my room," you managed to say, your voice trembling. "I... I forgot my wallet."

With that, you rushed to your room, and Scaramouche watched as you quickly reemerged, dashing out of the dorm in a hurry before he could say anything. He felt a pit forming in his stomach realizing that he had hurt you. Scaramouche knew he had to make amends somehow, but he also understood that it might be too late.

“I should head home,” Miyo speaks placing a reassuring hand on his chest. “I know you are worried about her. I am too. This wasn’t the best way for her to find out.” She sighed. “We need to give her some time and space to process this. Be nice to her, okay?”

Scaramouche nodded and kissed her softly on the lips. “You’re just amazing, you know that? To think of her even in a situation like this.” He tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.

In that moment, as Miyo placed a reassuring hand on Scaramouche's chest, he felt understood in a way he hadn't expected. Her understanding and concern for you showed him the depth of her empathy and kindness. Any doubts he had about her over you vanished away, replaced by a newfound appreciation for the woman in his arms. With her understanding and support, the uncomfortable pit that had formed in Scaramouche's stomach began to ease. He knew he could count on Miyo, not just as a girlfriend but as a true companion who would stand by him through thick and thin.

As the movie came to an end, Miyo had fallen asleep, snuggled against him. Scaramouche couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable she looked, her peaceful expression bringing a sense of calm to his heart. He placed a tender kiss on top of her head, feeling a mix of love and protectiveness toward her. Graduation season was upon them, and it had been a challenging time for all of them. He knew Miyo was working hard, juggling her studies and other responsibilities. In contrast, Scaramouche felt a sense of privilege, knowing that his path was set as a prince of Inazuma, despite his strained relationship with his mother, the queen. Graduation was supposed to mark a new beginning, a fresh chapter in their lives, but for Scaramouche, it felt more like a burden, a heavy cloak of expectations and obligations he had to carry. He couldn't help but wonder if he was truly ready for the responsibilities that awaited him as a prince. Despite his achievements and his position, there was always a sense of disappointment from his mother, the queen, which weighed heavily on him.

He knew that he had a responsibility to fulfill, but in that moment, with Miyo by his side, he felt a sense of solace. She was the one who made him feel like he could be himself, without the burden of expectations. Miyo saw him for who he truly was and accepted him, flaws and all. Scaramouche felt a deep gratitude for having her in his life, especially during times of uncertainty and pressure.

Scaramouche's senses were heightened as he heard the door to your room creak open, the sound like a haunting echo in the quiet space. You had been skittish ever since the day you discovered Scaramouche and Miyo in the kitchen, and he couldn't help but notice how seldom you were in the dorm lately. You would leave early in the morning and return late at night, prompting his concern for your well-being. He often wondered if you were getting enough sleep or if something else was troubling you.

He knew you weren't alright. Your weary appearance betrayed the emotional turmoil you were going through. Without making a sound or drawing too much attention to yourself, you walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a carton of milk. Scaramouche inwardly cursed himself, realizing that he had run out of milk and had used your supply to make Miyo hot chocolate. He had planned to replace it with a new carton tomorrow, but now it seemed like a careless oversight.

Seeing you sigh and throw the empty carton away, he mumbled an apology to you, hoping to ease the tension between you. "I'm sorry about the milk," he said, his voice soft and sincere.

You looked at him, and he noticed the tear tracks on your cheeks, causing a pang of guilt to shoot through him. He tried to brush it off, attempting to maintain a sense of normalcy. "It's just milk, (y/n)," he said, attempting to downplay the situation. "No need to be so dramatic about it. I’ll buy you some more tomorrow, okay?"

But the emotions he saw in your eyes told a different story. It was clear that there was more going on beneath the surface, and he wished he could reach out to you, comfort you in some way. But the weight of Miyo sleeping on his chest kept him in place, unable to move.

You quickly wiped away your tears, your eyes becoming hollow with all the emotions pooling inside them. "It's fine," you replied in a voice that cracked slightly, trying to maintain a façade of strength.

As you hurriedly rushed back to your room, he couldn't help but notice your hand gripping your stomach. Were you hungry? He had noticed that your shelves in the fridge were bare, indicating that you might not be taking care of yourself properly. As he sat there, still holding Miyo in his arms, the weight of the situation weighed heavily on his mind. He couldn't help but feel like he had let you down, and the guilt gnawed at him. Scaramouche knew that he needed to address the situation, to find a way to talk to you and make amends, but the fear of rejection and the complexity of his feelings held him back.

Despite not being together anymore, Scaramouche couldn't help but feel a lingering fondness for you. He missed talking to you, sharing inside jokes, and having spicy meals together where he would laugh at your expense as you danced around due to the heat of the food. There was a sense of comfort and familiarity with you that he had grown accustomed to, and it frustrated him that you wouldn't accept what he offered to you – friendship. In his mind, he couldn't understand why you were so stuck on the notion of loving him and having him love you back. It was unfair to him, he felt, as he had made his intentions clear from the start. He never wanted to give you the place that Miyo now held in his heart. He wasn't sure why he couldn't reciprocate your feelings, but he knew that it wasn't something he could force. He couldn't understand why you held onto that hope, even when he had rejected you.

Maybe it was because of your uncertainty. Scaramouche couldn't help but notice that you never seemed to decide anything for yourself. Your lack of self-esteem also played a role; you didn't seem to value yourself as much as you deserved. How could you expect him to love you when you placed your worth so low? The constant arguments between you two weighed on his mind as well. They always ended with you in tears, and it left him feeling drained and frustrated. Miyo, on the other hand, brought ease and stability to his life. She was confident, knew what she wanted, and had a clear goal in life - to become a diplomat in the Inazuma court. In contrast, he couldn't help but feel that you lacked direction and purpose. You never seemed to have a plan or a clear vision for your future. It made him question whether a long-term relationship with you would have been sustainable.

While he respected your opinions and advice, he couldn't help but feel weighed down by the constant nagging. You would urge him to study harder, to work towards proving himself, even though everything seemed to be already set for him as a prince. While he complained about how disappointed his mother was with him, instead of agreeing, you would encourage him to communicate with her. It felt like you were pushing him, never letting him be by himself. It was hard to let go of the hurt and frustration, but at the same time, he couldn't help but miss the connection you once shared. He wished things could have been different, that you could have been the person you needed you to be – a friend.

Scaramouche carefully picked up Miyo in his arms, cradling her gently as he carried her to his room. He walked with soft, measured steps, mindful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. As he passed through the living room, his foot accidentally knocked over a pile of unread mail, scattering envelopes across the floor. His eyes caught sight of a particular envelope, distinct from the others. It was from Mondstadt, and it bore your name on it. The sight of it caused a pang of curiosity to stir within him, but he hesitated to pick it up. He knew that mail was private, and he shouldn't intrude into your personal space.

Without thinking much of it, Scaramouche walked towards his room, still holding Miyo in his arms. He placed her gently on the bed, making sure she was comfortable and covered with a blanket. She sighed softly, settling into a deeper slumber. Scaramouche climbed into bed beside Miyo, wrapping his arms around her as he pulled her close. He found solace in the warmth of her body and the steady rhythm of her breathing. In that moment, as he lay beside her, he pushed aside the thoughts of you. He chose to focus on the present, on the love and comfort he found with Miyo.

Next

AN: my dumbass forgot to let y’all know to let me know if you want to be in a tag list for this series 😭

NIMONA + LETTERBOXD REVIEWS

Nimona (2023) + text posts

play wrestling, yan genshin edition.

lets you win, offers no resistance because they think you're cute: zhongli, shenhe, diluc, albedo, alhaitham, kazuha

lets you win because they don't even realize what you're doing: alhaitham, xiao, cyno, ei

would've let you won, if you hadn't provoked them with insults: kaeya, eula, kaveh

wins to establish dominance: CHILDE, scaramouche, raiden shogun