#dark.content

right now he had you splayed out in a clearing, one hand holding his weighty cock, and the other holding the back of your thigh. you’ve been in this position for a while, all heavy breaths and squirms, physically (and mentally) fighting the urge to relinquish your body to him—to let him you.

you always pictured your first heat going a lot smoother than this. that when the time came, you’d be prepared and mated—but you were neither. so, one could only imagine the moral dilemma that arises when you’re forced to choose between two (very bad) options: 1) doing nothing and ultimately succumbing to the pain, and 2) fucking the only guy who conveniently happened to be within proximity.

the latter was obviously, not something you would’ve chosen for yourself—but the pain was excruciating—debilitating, and your current location wasn’t giving you much room for choice.

“look, you can stay here and suffer, bound to the forest soil, or you can let me help you,” the boy slides the weeping tip of his cock over your exposed folds, “which one sounds better? wallowing in pain or big brother helping you, hm?”

the tail of his query is accompanied with a prod to your hole, and you whimper in response, arching up to grasp at his chest. neteyam finds amusement in this, chuckles under his breath and gets real low on top of you.

“c’mon, baby, say it. tell me with your words. not gonna make you do something you don’t want to do,” and with that he’s lifting your chin up, using the pad of his loitering thumb to swipe away crystalline droplets.

you nod your head slowly. first once, then twice, lifting your hips up to meet him halfway. he takes your silent acquiescence as an invitation to glide into you. and, fuck, it’s so easy…fits right in like a glove. overwhelmingly wet and warm, a terrible combination that scares him.

you’re trouble, he thinks. because he knows that after he fucks you, gives you what you want—he’ll only want more. and that hunger will only grow, it’ll fester and fester, until the only way he can get off is with you. and that couldn’t happen, no—because this was only supposed to be a one time thing.

what would the people think of their future olo’eyktan messing around with his little sister? surely, they’d denounce his claim and deem him unfit to lead, right? and what would your parents think? they’d probably disown the both of you, or worse, disown you. and that’s the last thing he wants—to ruin you.

which is why this has to be the first time and the last time.

“‘teyam make me feel good please!” you clasp your hands behind his neck, forcing him to lay atop of you, “wan’ it to stop hurting…please, just…help me.”

there’s a flicker in your eyes when you say it, and he likes it. makes his spine tingle and his pupils dilate. because he wants to hear you do it again.

“you want me to make you feel good, huh?” a slow, drawn out thrust, “want big brother to make it feel better here?” he unsheathes himself from your gummy cunt and taps the top of your mound with the weight of his length.

“mhm, need you now, ‘teyam. please, hurry!” of all the years he’s known you, he’s never known you to be a beggar. the sheer desperation in your voice alone was enough to make him forgo all of his disciplines.

without pause, he guides his mushroomy head back to your leaking hole, and pushes himself all the way in until the fat of his balls is plush against your ass.

its’s so swift, the way he completely takes charge, like he’s done this before—like he’s been inside of you. your body was foreign to him, a stranger, and yet, it wasn’t. and he convinces himself as much because of the way you’re responding to him.

you are putty under his touch, and every moan, grab, clutch, and clench only confirms this.

faster, deeper—harder, you preen. and he obeys. does it when you command it, and doesn’t ease up. it’s almost unreal, the way the two of you are moving in perfect synchrony. like you’re liquified metal, melding together to form one.

“shit, feel you clenching. are you close, baby?” he syncopates each word with a harsh thrust, letting his weight distribute to one arm as he encases the side of your head. you nod eagerly, mumbling a string of expletives, followed after a series of strangled cries.

“f-feel it coming, don’t stop.” you’re so close, so, so, so close to that sweet release that you’ve been chasing after since it happened, and you’ll be damned if you don’t get it.

unconsciously, you wrap your legs tighter around his torso, and pull him down by the neck until his face is mere centimeters away from yours. you’re close—too close. so close that if he were to dip his head down just slightly, he’d kiss you.

your eyes flit to his lips, to his eyes, and then back to his lips. calling. beckoning. pleading.

kiss me, is what he thinks they’re saying. but he’s scared it’s too…intimate. a kiss would solidify things—feelings—and he didn’t have the mental fortitude to come to terms with that just yet.

this was supposed to be something he did to help you, he reminds himself. he was just doing you a favor, because that’s what brothers did, right? just a favor. nothing more, nothing less.

but eyes stare back into eyes, and breaths intertwine with breaths, and shit, he’s a weak man. this was another deadly combination that could only be blamed by the forced proximity. damn this.

he presses his lips to your own, harsh and heavy, leaving no room for anything. no room for hesitation—air—not even for protest. and when you kiss him back with just as much want, just as much need? he’s melting into your touch, ramming into you with such unbridled velocity, that you don’t even register the accidental love bite you gave his lip.

he works through it though, licks the blood up and continues his assault on your cunt. lays thrust after thrust until your body falls lax in his hold and your thighs clench shut around him.

“that’s it, sweet girl,” he coos, “go ahead, give it all to me.” with the encouragement of his sweet words, you come undone all over his cock, with his own release not too far behind.

“fuckfuckfuck, where you want it?” he grunts out through broken moans.

“inside, do it inside!” you sob, grabbing for his neck once more, pulling him down to your chest. you help to draw his release out by moving your hips in unison with his, holding yourself up on your forearms as he sheathes himself in and out of you at a dizzying pace.

with a final piston, he finishes inside of you. the two of you stall in the air briefly before he gently lowers you down onto your back, him following soon after to lay on your breasts.

when his breaths even, and the bioluminescent plants begin to glow, he unsheathes himself from inside you and sits back on his knees. you look so pretty, he thinks. with his spent seeping from your hole, and your skin all slick with sweat.

“this can never…” you breathe, chest still heaving and breaths ragged, “never, ever happen again.”

a beat. he doesn’t answer. and you repeat yourself, only this time, with more power behind your tone.

“hey, this can never happen again. got it?”

he can only manage to give you a nod, but he doesn’t give you his word.

because this? this wouldn’t be the last time. he was going to be selfish, and if that meant ruining you for anyone else in the clan—if that meant keeping you from finding a potential mate, he’d just have to ruin you.

manipulative.

he is unintentionally manipulative. he doesn't realize he does it. additionally, he will gaslight you if you try and call him on it. he makes sure to tell you he thinks it's silly, the way you get all worked up over the things he says. if you don't like it, then why do you listen? he doesn't listen to everything you tell him, why can't you do the same? he doesn't understand the power difference between the two of you -- he is so obviously in charge, that it's almost impossible to not bend to his will.

xiao.

stubborn.

he's set in his ways. he has lived so long without worrying about others, he refuses to start now. he doesn't work on himself and chooses to live the way he does, no matter the effect on his loved ones. you knew what he was like going into the relationship, he expects you to always accept him. it's your fault if you expect more out of him than he can give. not that he would even try.

unaffectionate.

he doesn't see a need for affection. its such a human thing, something he doesn't need or understand. thinks it's annoying when you try to hold his hand or when you cuddle up to him in bed. if you wanted someone affectionate, then you picked the wrong one. and since he's so stubborn...he won't ever change.

diluc.

neglectful.

he can go long periods of time without so much as thinking of you. he lets you do what you want and doesn't really care. especially if he's preoccupied with his job or protecting the city. it gets to a point where you start to feel like he doesn't love you -- doesn't care about you. there's not much you can do about it, even if you sit him down to tell him how you feel, it just goes in one ear and out the other.

selfishly needy.

on the flip side, he expects you to be there and available whenever he does decide he wants you. and if you aren't, he gets upset and angry. it really isn't fair but he doesn't get that. he never understands it. after all, you begged for his attention for weeks and now you won't even make time for him? he doesn't understand just how hypocritical that is. he just expects you to be there when he wants you but doesn't care if he's not there when you want him.

kaeya.

condescending.

he does it at the most random times. you could be venting to him, in tears because you had a rough day and he'll break out "oh? you had a bad day? that sucks..." in the most infuriating, condescending tone that just makes you feel like he views you problems as silly in comparison to his. if you mess something up or get something wrong, he whips it out then too -- making sure you know he thinks you're stupid or beneath him.

unsympathetic.

in addition, he just really can't sympathize with your problems. either he doesn't care or he just doesn't get it. he refuses to understand either way. when you tell him about how you boss made you feel like shit, he just shrugs and asks what the big deal is. or if you're exhausted and near tears, he just shrugs it off and tells you that you're making a big deal out of nothing.

i’d like to imagine after catching you and lo’ak, a few days pass in which neither of you talk about it or even acknowledge that it’s happened. there’s this weird tension in the air, and everyone’s on eggshells because absolutely none of you know how to go about it—let alone are bold enough to do so—at least, that’s what you think.

one day, jake sneaks up on you, tells you that it’s time to talk. and shit, you’re losing your mind—practically on the verge of vomiting, because you knew eventually, this’d happen. you knew it was just a matter of time before you were gonna reap the consequences, that jake was gonna sit you down and probably disown you for doing such a thing. if eywa was truly merciful, she’d strike you down here and now, so that you could save yourself the embarrassment from being shunned—exiled.

but that stern talking to never came. there was no yelling, no exiling, and definitely no tears. you were starting to get suspicious, like this was a test or something, and jake was just waiting to humiliate you—to add to the deprecation that you already were inflicting upon yourself. but that didn’t come either.

“i see you’re at that age where you’re curious,” he starts, an inkling of hesitance in his voice, “about sex.” you don’t speak, opting to sit there quietly, still—so still that it appears as if you’ve stopped breathing. apprehensively, you sink further into where you sit, letting the tips of your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palms. you’re terrified of what he’ll say next, and you suppose he can see that, which is why he takes it upon himself to make you feel a little more comfortable.

“hey, relax,” his large hand extends out, dwarfing your own, “‘m just here to talk. we always used to talk, right? it’s just you ‘n dad, okay?”

hesitantly, you nod, un-balling your hand in his. “yeah, i guess i was just scared,” you admit, looking down at the crescents littering your unoccupied hand.

“scared of what?” a silence.

“that i’d be disowned. i know what lo’ak and i did was dirty—we shouldn’t have done it, i know that. i’m sorry, so sorry, it won’t happen again,” your voice is shaken with guilt, and you refuse to look him in the eye. you think if you do, you’ll turn into a puddle of mush.

“it’s natural, you know.” a look of confusion splays across the expanse of your face. what did he say? “sex is an instinct, don’t apologize for responding to what your body wants.”

“but—“ you tense again, “lo’ak’s only a kid. if you were curious, you should’ve just come to me…” his voice decrescendos. when he finishes, you turn your head to face him, eyes flitting between his face and the thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“do you think lo’ak knows the first thing about pleasing a girl—a woman?” you shake your head, careening into his touch when his available hand reaches out to cup your cheek.

he’d be such a little shit. always teasing you about how clueless you are about everything, and asking you if you had your first kiss yet, or if you’ve let a boy touch you. and when you tell him about a boy you’ve been seeing—god, he gets soooo mad. doesn’t speak to you for a few days after that, not until you literally have to ask him what’s wrong.

“what’s wrong? what’s wrong is you’re letting another man touch you,” he spits, “—a boy. i bet he doesn’t even know how to touch a girl,” the man leans down to whisper in your ear, “how to make her cum…”

as he’s speaking, he presses himself closer and closer to to your backside, using one hand to wrap around your chest, while the other slides down the expanse of your abdomen. you careen into his touch when you feel a nimble finger swipe over your core.

but then she started clinging to him excessively, went through a period where she’d only ever wanna sit in his lap. ‘so warm’ she’d preen, followed by a ‘wanna stay here’. it ticked him off; he’d moan and groan about all the kitty hair that’d be on his sweaters and jeans by the days end.

he doesn’t start to warm up to her until one day she comes to him with a wounded paw. today she’s not in her human form, instead, she sports her silky-soft coat. he watches intently as she limps down the basement’s stairs to where he sits. there’s a sad expression on her face, she looks weak.

“what happened to her paw?” steve questions, looking to the others for answers. they all blink back at him, unsure of what he’s talking about. mike hurries over to examine the kitten, lifting her paw up to find a lone shard of glass. it was tiny in size, but still enough to weaken her.

“there’s no glass down he—how’d she—i’ll go get some gauze!”

when mike returns with a safety kit, steve pilfers it from his hands. he grabs the kitten and pulls the shard out, then takes the gauze and wraps her paw gently, making sure as to not cause discomfort or pain. as soon as he finishes, he lifts her up to eye level.

“it’s okay, kitty. all better, right?” she blinks. once, twice, then releases a soft meow.

and from that moment on, that’s when he realizes a piece of his heart would always be tethered to hers. she’d caught him, and he’d fallen for the cheese trap. so much for babysitting…

she won’t let him forget it either. will doze off to sleep immediately after but then she’ll start unconsciously nipping at his fingers, cheeks poked out and lips spouting hushed nonsense. “so mean…hate you.” but he knows she doesn’t.

-

oh, god!!! steve hates doing it but sometimes he’s just gotta tell her who’s boss. nobody ever dares to put a foot down when it comes to her, nobody except mike, that is. but when it’s just him and kitty, and mike’s not around, he has to assume the role of authoritarian.

i can imagine her saying smth real sassy, you know, like just being really mean to steve during his rotation and it’s been bugging him all day but he was choosing peace. he doesn’t know what’s got her all in a mood, so he tries everything! literally every possible solution.

food? wasn’t hungry. cuddles? already did that, didn’t work. kisses? she was tempted—very tempted, but wasn’t budging. and so something had to seriously be wrong if she was denying kisses.

“what’s wrong, kitty? hm? what’s bothering ya, baby?” steve reaches out a gentle hand to caress her cheek. she raises her arm to swat him away but before she can, he takes hold of her wrist, a mean scowl molding on his face.

“oh, were you gonna hit me? with these?” he gestures to her claws, a smug grin on his face, “because i don’t think so. wanna try that again, baby? put ‘em away and then tell me with words what’s wrong.”

and that’s all he needed to do.

“‘m sorry stevie…it’s just…it’s—“ he interjects.

“just what? what’s wrong with my pretty kitty?” her chin tilts to the floor, ears falling down flat against her head.

“it’s just…i saw a kitty today—another kitty, like me, but it didn’t want to play. think it didn’t wanna be my friend,” her voice crescendos into a whisper.

“god, seriously? you’d think somebody tried to kill you with the way you were acting,” he rubs his forehead in disbelief, but stops when he hears the beginnings of a sniffle.