your nerd!boyfriend gets horny when you're reading ♡ (18+ mdni)
you're perched up on your bed, reading a novel.
but your nerd!boyfriend is getting way too needy. the poor guy.
is it even his fault, though?
your elbows are unintentionally squishing your tits together. and every time you flip a page, your tits bounce ever so slightly, your nipples peeking through the thin tank top you're wearing.
your thighs are folded up towards your chest, and he can swear he sees a bit of your panties through your loose shorts every time you change your reading position.
and gosh. you're reading. that's the hottest thing he's ever seen you do.
the way your eyes scan each page. the subtle shift in your expression every once in a while.
he's leaking. literally. his cock is so hard that it's almost humiliating how horny he's getting just from watching you read. he can feel the pre-cum drenching his underwear.
you're still reading, oblivious to his predicamental situation, when all of a sudden, you hear a whimper.
your eyes shoot to him. and then you see it.
the giant wet spot on the front of his sweatpants. the silhouette of his fat, hard cock glaring at you through the grey fabric.
the tips of his ears turn a bright pink, colour rapidly spreading to the rest of his face.
'"uh- i- i'm just- i didn't mean to-" he stutters in a fit of embarrassment.
"do you enjoy watching me read?" you question him with a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips.
his eyes frantically search the room for a way out of this direct interrogation.
"i- no, n-no, it's not that, i-"
your book falls onto the bed with a soft thud as you lean forward to grab a hold of his twitching dick.
he whimpers.
you flash him an evil smile as you tighten your grip on his shaft, squeezing it in your palm.
the whole of his body shudders and a needy moan escapes his flushed lips, his eyelids shut tightly against each other. more pre-cum oozes out of his tip, imprinting itself onto the fabric of his pants.
"are you sure about that, baby?"
he gives in to your torture.
"i- y-yes, i'm sorry, y- you-re just so sexy when you read. so smart. i c-can't help it. it makes me so h-horny."
and the way he looks at you with such innocence. such helplessness.
gosh, you were gonna have so much fun with him.
"what else? go on."
you begin stroking his shaft through his sweatpants, squeezing it in your palm tighter by the second.
"ahn! f-fuuuuuck, i- i just couldn't stop thinking about y-you riding my c-cock and letting me cum in your p-pussy-"
your pace grows more rapid, your own wetness becoming evident to you.
"yeah? you wanna cum in mommy's pussy? wanna see my tits bounce while i fuck this beautiful cock?"
"y-yes. very, i-"
clearly, your dirty talking is enough to make him finish. his cum spurts out of his clothed cock, making the whole of his sweatpants milky and wet. his body convulses sporadically as he lets out a series of high-pitched moans.
you tut dramatically.
"tsk, tsk, tsk... look how much you came. is that how badly you wanna be inside me?"
he nods rapidly, his chest heaving and his heart pounding relentlessly.
"aww... well, here's the issue. you interrupted me right when things were getting interesting in my book." you do a fake pout. "and, well, i need to know what happens next." you whisper hotly into his ear.
"but i don't want to leave you like this. you're just so cute."
you pin your index finger into his still heaving chest, using the minimum force to push him flat onto the bed. and then you slide his pants down just enough for the whole of his lengthy cock to spring free. some of the dripping cum splashes onto your fingers.
"so, here's what's gonna happen." you say as you slip off your own shorts and situate yourself on top of his waist, hovering barely a few centimetres away from his erect dick.
he trembles beneath you, the closeness of literal paradise - your pussy - sending him off the edge.
"you're gonna read to me. loud and clear."
you hand him the book.
"meanwhile, i'll ride your cock. have i made myself clear?"
his timid hand grabs a hold of the novel while he lies there dazed, completely drunk in anticipation.
"page 269." you enunciate slowly.
and then you slide down onto his quivering dick.
a loud gasp escapes his lips. his breathing quickens and he shuts his eyes, desperately trying to stop himself from cumming so soon.
you're sitting smack on his fat cock now, your hands resting on his abs. your pussy juices slowly dribble down his thighs and you roll your head back at the full feeling.
"page 269. read. or i'm not fucking you."
"y-yes mommy, i- i will read."
he shuffles - more like struggles - to find the right page.
he begins reading. slowly.
and just as slowly, you raise yourself on his cock, until just the tip is teasing your clit. then you sit back down on him with a gentle 'smack'.
his eyes shut tight and his words become frenzied until they sound like mere gibberish to you.
you force him out of his breathy stupor by roughly grabbing his balls. you give them a squeeze.
"read. properly. i need to be able to understand it. read loud and clear for me."
he nods in submission and resumes.
he's still having a hard time but at least he's trying. and are you actually paying attention to what he's reading? maybe. maybe not.
you're just getting off on the way his voice keeps shuddering and trembling. his sudden gasps. his incoherent bumbles. his soft moans. the high-pitched noises.
and his cock. his perfect cock that stretched you out oh so well. his tip kisses your cervix, turning your stomach into a knot.
as you grind on him, you lift your thin tank top to reveal your plump breasts bouncing in tandem with your hips. you scrunch up the top there, leaving your tits on full display for him.
his eyes look away from the book - that he was trying to mumble as a prayer - and his whole body tremors. his words turn into voiceless gasps.
you smirk and play with your breasts, squishing them and pressing them together. and then you have the audacity to increase your pace on his cock.
you're now full-on bouncing on him, your tits jumping in the air vigorously before him.
'i am not letting you cum if you don't read for me."
"y-yes! i'm sorry- i- i'm reading, i'm reading. just p-please let me cum. please-"
"good boy. you like what you see? you like it when i squish my boobs like this?"
he nods vigorously, trying to focus on the stupid words of the book at the same time. but lord oh lord, he is miserably failing.
you can feel his cock twitching inside you. he's close. and so are you.
"and you like it when mommy bounces on your cock like this?" you go even faster now. the sounds of skin slapping skin - a rhythmic 'smack, smack, smack' - reverberating through the room along with your boyfriend's incoherent, strangled words.
"y-yes, i love it. i love it when you ride me- ohh fuuuuccckk, please let me cum!"
"not if you stop reading." you gasp frantically.
he's gonna cry. and he almost does. tears prick at the corners of his eyes because you're being so mean to him. making him read that stupid book when you're bouncing on his dick like the goddess that you are.
but he wants to cum so bad. and so he somehow finds it in himself to keep uttering the words he's barely able to comprehend anymore.
you ride him even faster now. your eyes are rolling back into your sockets, your grip on his chest harsher. the bed creaks below the weight of your combined bodies, and you come.
you moan loud and deep. "fuck! cum in me right now. cum in my pussy! oh, fuck!"
and oh he does. thick ropes of cum shoot into your warm cunt, kissing your clenched walls. his whole body quakes and he lets out a series of anguished moans, his fingers digging into your thighs.
some of the white goo oozes out of your hole, onto the base of his cock. and he lies there, spent and grateful.
you raise yourself off of him ever so slightly.
and when you bend forward, pressing your tits into his face, blood rushes to his crotch. again.
you smirk at him devilishly.
"oh, we're not done yet. want you to fill me up even more."
this time, you sit on him reverse cowgirl style so that he can see exactly what's happening. the way your bodies connect. how your hungry pussy engulfs the whole of his length.
before beginning your sweet torture, you look back at him, smilingly.
"oh, and- continue reading where you left off, yeah?"
Summary: You use Jabber as a stress relief, not that he’s complaining.
Warnings: TYPOS, smut with the tiniest plot!!, mentions of Zodyl "punishing" the reader &Jabber, Jabber has a snake-eyes tongue piercing, bad attitude! Reader, masochism/sadism dynamic, Jabber is your punching bag, hate sex, obsessive! Jabber, choking, Jabber calls the reader “baby”,
A/N: This is so hard i am naut good with smut i seriously struggled like KILL ME. REQUESTS OPENNNNN!!!! PLEASE
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Loud-mouthed, irritating, obnoxious, so painfully--
“Jabber.” The word slithered through grinding teeth, a jaw clenched so tight bones creaked.
"Whaaaat, dollface? You've gotta loosen up— I mean, seriously!" The man purred from above you, and the sound got on your nerves like a metal fork on porcelain, a headache that pulsed needily at the back of your skull.
It was an intel mission, a simple, no bullshit intel mission to get information about the spherite who'd passed through a busy town and had been seen by a man-- the makeshift "mayor" of the four dozen that lived in the run-down homes made of shacks with rotting wood. It had taken one low jab for the pudgy man's blood to spill, crimson on carpet, blades through flesh. Jabber's doing. Now the town stood without a mayor, and you without your promised reward from Zodyl, only blooming bruises of red and unsightly purple beneath thin clothing to speak of your failure.
"You absolute waste of space!" Your hand tightened around his throat, fingers flying across skin until you found a familiar thump thump thump, and pressed down onto his trachea, delighting silently in the wheeze of air escaping his lungs, you could hear so distinctly with his lips at your ear.
The metal of his Mankira rings dug into your hips, kneading the soft give of your flesh with a delight that was undeniable from the seat of his pants, where a bulge steadily grew from the promise of violence. Voice watery from the blood rushing from his brain, Jabber crooned as he lowered himself down closer to where you lay on the bed, leveling his face with your pelvis, "Gimme more, mama, I'm gonna tear through my pants at this rate." Revulsion, and then anger, tore through you. Red hot, violent vexation that dragged itself up your spine and clogged your throat. "You gravy-sweating motherfucker, I should rip your throat out and leave you voiceless for all your moaning!" The bruises on his throat bled tan skin a feverish red when you released him.
The small room within the depths of the Raiders' underground base smelled of ever-present blood that had made its home in the cracks of the stone floors, and the musk of need that loomed over you both. Your pants, artfully splattered with oil stains and the recent blood of the town's mayor, were slewn out somewhere on that floor, a discarded heap of clothing that represented both your dignity and self-preservation.
Long, ringed fingers trailing down to the hem of your underwear, Jabber looked up toward you with a dopey grin, one that turned upwards just a bit more when the fat of your thighs pressed against his ears on either side of his head, the pressure making his vision all fuzzy.
"Do something useful with that stupid mouth for once."
The demand guided his tongue flat against the flimsy fabric of your underwear covering your clit, dampening the cloth with each long lick. It was a taunt, a game he would never win, but he played anyway so he could enjoy his loss. When the cotton dragged down your thighs and the chill of the room meant sensitive skin, a shiver tore through his body, visceral in its wake as he stared at your exposed cunt like a drooling dog. A want so violent that when his mouth finally met your cunt, smushing against it like he wasn't to be as close as physically possible, you jolted. It was just once, a flinch from the heat of his lips, the dizziness of pleasure. Just once before your calves locked around the back of his head, forcing his tongue deeper, trapping him between your legs, a merciless strength that had stars of black dancing in his vision.
"Damn you…" You seethed.
Fingers fisted in the sheets on either side of your head, you let your hips grind against his face, eyes half lidded and hateful as you watched as your arousal glossed his swollen lips and drenched his chin. Each nudge of his nose against the sensitive hood of your clit had flashes of bliss shooting up from your toes to the roots of your hair. Ruthless, that was a word to describe Jabber. Ruthless in the calculated, deliberate curl of his tongue, the barbell embedded through the tip of it forcing your walls to gush and squeeze around nothing just. For. Him.
And still— “You won't shut up? Will you?!" Voice a pitch lighter, you pushed out the words with a throaty moan that filled the man with something needy, his hips gyrating against the scratchy sheets, each rut dampening the front of his briefs as he cooed against the warmth of your cunt. "S'sweet, so goddamn sweet." But he wasn't talking to you; he was talking to your pussy.
"Look at her, gushing like a fountain, and f'me? You shouldn't have, honeybun." He slurs, planting a balmy kiss on the inside of one thigh. If it had been anyone else, maybe you would've been embarrassed, but him? It only filled you with a want for more. To destroy that composure, to make him break.
The metal of the bedframe groaned with the movement of two bodies as you shifted positions, and Jabber obediently followed. Now, his back was pressed into the mattress, and you were on top. The material of his pants scraped addictingly against the back of your thighs as you sat yourself onto his lap, a hand drifting down between your heaving bodies to shove away useless fabric and yank the waistband down just enough that his cock slapped against his stomach, the tip glistening under the finicky light fixtures of the bedroom, arousal smearing against the curves of his abdomen.
Delighted, Jabber tossed his head back onto the pillow, locs splaying out around his head, a low, drawn-out moan falling from his lips as you dragged one nail up the thick vein on the side of his dick, the sharpness scratching deliciously against delicate skin. "Juuuus' like that, jus' like that.." His eyes were alight as he stared at the way his dick twitched and throbbed in your palm as you stroked it once, twice, before guiding it between your thighs, letting it rest heavy against your cunt. Every dull jerk his cock gave filled his gut with a pleasure so heavy he just had to laugh.
"I hate you so much." You whispered it like a vow and a promise, one he could catalogue as a way to keep you around just to hear you say it because it wasn't love, it wasn't something said between sighs of affection or soft confessions, it was hatred, a disdain that burned and made it all worth it.
The length of Jabber's cock rubs back and forth against your sex as you slowly start to rock your hips in lazy, drawn-out shapes. The wet noises of his tip catching at your entrance...juuust to slip back out again, and the catch of air you tried to hide was music to Jabber's ears. "You tryna tease me, girl— mmh!" The combination of you suddenly shoving a pillow into his face with wholehearted intentions of suffocating him, and the way your pussy practically swallowed him whole in one roll of your hips, had a cry so unashamed shuddering through him that the rest of the team was sure to hear.
But for once, you didn't think about how annoying it was or the cackles that still reached you from beneath the pillow over his face. Your body was abuzz with something new, something raw and addictive. Every inch, every noticeable vein tracing up his cock, you felt it, up to how his tip smooched your cervix like it had done it dozens of times before. The burn of the stretch was nothing compared to how right it felt to use, to take without shame.
Jabber's hands clawed at your wrists, blunt nails brushing skin, engulfing them easily in a way you tried to ignore, not to push away, but to encourage, forcing you to press the thick cotton of the pillow harder against his face, making air scarce. Each breath, each low, raspy whine he let out suffocated him, hias dick jumped needily inside you. He was loving this.
"Your shame knows no bounds." The disgust is clear, but so is your crumbling resolve; each shifty figure eight his hips made renewed the arousal crawling up your back, clinging to you like a parasite you suddenly wanted to welcome. Discarding the smushed pillow to the side where it fell to the floor near your pants, you brace both hands on his chest, ignoring the way his top clings to sweat-slick skin as you lift up your hips till only the head is inside, faces an inch apart, breath mingling in a way that's...too intimate, and drop back down. "Fuck!" Jabber gasps, his pupils dilating into saucers, the magenta of his irises almost extinguished by the black.
Your throat burns with the moan that spills free, half pleasure, half ache, it's so much; the unsteady rhythm of his hips pushing upwards to meet your downwards motions, how with each thrust your walls suction around him like your cunt's trying to cut off his dick's circulation. With a particular buck of his hips, his tip bumps lewdly against the sweet spot inside you that lights up the sparks of pleasure like a chain reaction, steady gasps and breathless noises no longer held back, but loud.
"That the spot, baby?" He giggles and plants his feet on the bed, positioning himself just right to slam upwards. The force sends you forward across his chest, tears of bliss blurring your vision as he abuses that gummy spot just right, over and over and over until you're gushing and he's just laughing as he rocks his hips to guide you through the electric high.
Infuriating.
It's the cadence in his tone, like he knows he's undone you. "I'm not done with you, you piece of shit." The promise lingers in the air as you force yourself up, shoulders straightening as you stare down at him. His eyes are wide and glossed over with a heat he only gets when he's half dead and pumped full of toxins.
A grunt of surprise precedes the wild look on his face when your hand finds his jaw, the hold so tight his lips push out in a pout and he's sure you could crush his skull. His cock gives a lazy twitch inside you at the thought. Then your other hand is moving to join the first, and it's impossible to describe the look on his face when two of your fingers push past parted lips, until he's choking on the feeling of the pads of your fingertips dancing across his tongue, the taste of gun polish and chemicals lingering on them.
"Suck."
The word, one simple word, short-circuits the man, his eyes rolling back so far that all you can see is the pearly white of his sclera as his hips give a violent jerk up into your dripping cunt. The whimper that follows it sets your skin ablaze with something akin to satisfaction as you feel beads of precum paint your insides, a creamy white ring forming on the base of his cock, sticky and loud as you begin to move.
His tongue laves over your two fingers, urging them deeper into his mouth as you start moving again, the flashes of pleasure overshadowed by the way his body shakes and his back curves into a pornographic arch as he finally breaks, cum painting the inside of your cunt. "fu...fuck. FUCK— 's se-sensitive, dolly, don't stop— hurts so good." Tears roll down his smooth skin when you truly don't stop moving, and for the first time that night, you feel like you've gotten your reward, even if it's in salty tears.
His hands reach for your waist, itching to feel, to push up thin fabric and grab at the warm skin, yet they find nothing when you smack them away, choosing to pin them above his head instead, keeping the man restrained as you use him, deaf to his moans and whines, treating him like a toy. Nothing's ever turned him on more.
You moan like nobody can hear you, sweet and perfect and something Jabber could totally get used to if you let him. "Baby, you tryna torture me?" Desperate and at your mercy, he eyes your tits hidden beneath a tight black shirt you hadn't bothered to take off, they're right. There. And he can't even reach them. This must be torture. He wants to be all over you like he doesn't know how to not touch you, and he can't? You're so good.
The stiff ridges of his veins slide so perfectly against the walls of your sappy pussy, it's pleasure and agony so similar for Jabber that he's not sure where one starts and the other begins. The cum makes everything so slippery, the friction's 10x better than before if thats even possible, and the expression on your face?
The hatred in your eyes, like you'd kill him if he didn't serve any use to you? Perfect, everything about it, the pinch of your brows, the line of your lips when you roll your hips just right, god it's just you, you're perfect, The thought has him cumming hard for the second time that night, harder than the last, harder than anything he's ever experienced in his fucking life, so hard his vision goes white and he's sure sex with you is better than heaven, cuz what could beat this?
"You— you have'ta be a sex goddess or sum, man..." He mumbles, unintelligible as his head lolls to the side, resting on the tear-damp pillow beneath him, his eyes fluttering closed, his cock still twitching in you, keeping all the cum inside.
"You’re so pathetic." The insult is more quiet exasperation than anger. You’re glad he’s too dazed to hear it.
A/N: This is my first fic so sorry if it’s horrible. Just having fun <3
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
“Jake, this is silly. I feel silly.” You hiss as you stand awkwardly in the beaded top and loincloth, feeling overly exposed. Your usual clothing offers much more coverage, usually made of large feathers and leather to hide what the feathers can’t.
You may be Na’vi now but your mind is still in some measure human and unfortunately modesty is one of the many human vices you still hold onto. You long to be free like the Na’vi people, guided by feelings instead of controlled by fear.
“You look fine.” He looks you up and down and you feel your neck grow a few degrees warmer under his stare.
You and Jake both worked for the Avatar Program with the RDA, both of you tasked with infiltrating the Omaticaya Clan, figuring a way to gain their trust, and providing a clear pathway to securing the unobtanium. You failed that mission and after Jake became Toruk Makto you led together in the Battle of Ayram Alusìng, helping the Na’vi defeat the sky people and sending most of them back to Earth.
In return Eywa transferred your souls into your Na’vi bodies and the two of you left your human lives and became apart of the Omaticaya clan, Jake becoming their leader.
Assimilating to Na’vi life was effortless for Jake, sometimes you even wonder if he was born for this life. It was challenging for you at first but not so much anymore. You’ve managed to make a solid group of friends and have even had many men show interest. You always decline politely, not yet ready for the kind of commitment the Na’vi practice. Plus Jake’s always giving some excuse as to why you should turn the men down.
After the war the two of you grew a lot closer to one another, not that you weren’t close before but this is a very different kind of close. The kind of close you can’t really slap a label on because you don’t understand it yourselves. The kind of close you can only become after betraying your entire species and defeating them together.
Everything felt okay, almost perfect. And then the humans came back, but this time with a vengeance. This time it was personal and they hit the forest hard so Jake moved the clan to a cave system in the Hallelujah Mountains where the RDA couldn’t find you. And now this is your home.
“My chest is barely covered.” you whisper to him and he gives you his signature grin. Goofy and childlike.
“Loosen up, nobody will be starin’ at your tits. Now get over here and let me paint you.” He laughs. Jake has never struggled with modesty, even day one as an Avatar he walked around half naked with ease.
There is a celebration tonight for the birth of the newest clan member so here you are, sitting half naked in front of your best friend as he paints your face.
His fingers have become experts at painting. Celebrations are very common so you find yourselves in this position frequently, painting each other in different colors and patterns.
It doesn’t take too long for him to get done, the paint ending at the start of your beaded top, which means it’s now your turn to paint him.
“I feel like I got the raw end of this deal considering I have a lot more surface area to paint.” You smile as you work your fingers down his neck and make your way to his chest.
He chuckles softly, trying not to mess you up. “Just say the word and I’ll take my pick at your replacement.”
He’s teasing, you know that, but that weird feeling bubbles in your chest. The thought that someday this won’t be a tradition shared between just the two of you stings and scares the shit out of you.
“I doubt there are too many women willing to put their hands on you Jake.” You reciprocate his teasing as your fingers reach his naval. His stomach noticeably tenses and you look up at him, shocked to see he’s already staring back, an intensity behind his eyes only Jake is able to wield.
You smile weakly at him and continue until you get to the band of his loincloth. Tension lays thick in the air and you find yourself wanting this to be over already while never wanting it to end.
You’re not in love with Jake Sully but sharing so many of the same experiences and emotions tends to nurse some confusing feelings. He’s the only other person that knows what it feels like to be seen as a traitor by their own species while simultaneously being widely considered demon by many Na’vi. You would never blame the Na’vi for how they feel about sky people, about you or Jake, but it leaves a deep ache of loneliness in your soul. An ache only Jake can understand. There have been many nights between the two of you, kurus connected and emotions shared, sometimes even a few tears shed. But you’re not in love with Jake Sully.
“I’m a chick magnet. You wouldn’t know because you’re too busy eyeing Naran.” He says and you roll your eyes as he smirks.
Naran is one of the clan men that has taken interest in you and unlike the other men that have pursued you he’s very persistent and ignores your reluctance. He often shows off in front of you during hunts, gives you handmade gifts, and stays as close as possible when you come out to social events.
“I am not.” You shove his arm playfully while giggling.
Once the air is silent again he lets his smirk fall. “Do you like him?” His tone is deep, more serious.
“He’s nice but I don’t think I do.” You say unconvincingly.
“You don’t think you like him?” He asks with a low chuckle but there’s an odd undertone to his question.
You’re putting the last bit of paint on his face, a single line that goes from right under his nose all the way down to the band of his loincloth.
“I mean it’s nice to be looked at in that way, to have someone that’s trying to win my affection. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s very attractive.” You laugh. “I don’t know, it’s all very confusing.” You admit as you get your finger wet with more paint.
“You want to be looked at?” He continues his invasive interrogation.
Your finger runs past his lips and they part slightly, his eyes piercing through you like a blade. It feels too intimate and you hurry down to his neck.
“Who doesn’t want to be looked at?” You quip with an eyebrow raise. You can feel the pulse in his neck, quick and steady.
Still too intimate.
“He isn’t right for you.” His assertion earns an annoyed look from you, irritation building at his never ending excuses for why you should stay alone. Lonely.
It’s not like you really know if you want to be courted by Naran, or any of the Omaticayan men, but that’s a decision you’re more than capable at making alone. He has no right to shoot down every man that tries courting you. It’s getting old and it does nothing but make you want to retaliate, to make him see that you’re in charge of who gets to court you.
“So what, I’m destined to be alone?” You question him.
“That’s not what I’m saying.” He defends himself.
“Please Jake. Out of all the men that have tried courting me, you haven’t deemed any of them worthy enough. Like I’m some high value prize. I’m not.” Your voice raises slightly as anger gets the best of you and instant guilt hits. You’ve never raised your voice at Jake and never want to do it again.
He’s still looking at you with a look in his eyes that you can’t decipher. Maybe it’s anger. Or hurt.
You give in with a sigh. “Look, I know you mean well by being cautious about his intentions and you know that I hold your judgment highly, but I want to feel a deeper connection with someone. I’m not saying I want Naran specifically but I want something with someone and I need you to let me make that choice.” Your tone is softer and you hope he understands.
Your fingers trace down his stomach and you get the courage to look at him. You silently plead him to say something, to tell you he understands or argue some more but he stays silent.
You finish with the paint and he gets up, looking down at you with a blank expression but he’s still Jake and he holds out his hand for you to pull yourself up with. Even upset he’s still considerate.
It’s awkward and silent as the two of you make your way to the celebration and relief floods you when you finally arrive.
There’s a small fire that people dance around, upbeat music floods the air, and the sweet smell of swamp hive nectar fills your senses. You have fallen further away from Jake and decide tonight you’re going to actually take his advice and be a little more social. Plus he walks really fast when he’s upset.
You get a small piece of the swamp hive nectar and make your way to the fire and sit on a log situated just far enough to feel the heat touch your skin. You watch as men, women, and children dance around gracefully and admire the way they don’t hold back. How they allow the music to guide their bodies.
You’re too absorbed in the dance to notice someone sit beside you.
“Oel ngati kameie.” Naran’s voice calls out and your head snaps to look at him.
Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you hurry to swallow the sweet nectar in your mouth.
“Oel ngati kameie, Naran.” You respond back with a dry mouth.
“How are you enjoying the celebration.” The firelight paints his face in shades of gold.
“Oh, I only just arrived so I haven’t been able to do much celebrating yet but so far it’s lovely. I’m enjoying myself.” You ramble and give him a soft smile. He is very attractive. Not in the way that Jake is. Jake is broad with arms as big as tree trunks, a waist that puts most Na’vi women to shame, and legs you can see the muscles in even when he’s sitting. Naran is lean and tall which makes him a great hunter, not that Jake is a bad hunter by any means but Naran is one of the clan’s best hunters.
You shake the thoughts out of your head. Why are you comparing him to Jake?
“I see.” He smiles at you showing you his sharp canines. “Are you planning to dance tonight?”
His question stir butterflies in your stomach and you bite back your usual rejection.
“I guess that depends on if that’s an invitation.” Your nerves get worse when he stands up and holds his hand out for you to take.
You bite the inside of your cheek. You’ve never danced at a celebration before, let alone in the company of a man you know is after more than just friendship. You take his hand anyway and let him lead you.
It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, sure your body is almost on full display for everyone to see but the Na’vi don’t see nudity as a bad thing. They’re right of course, it’s not a bad thing but it was very taboo on Earth and you still have a lot to unlearn. You watch his movements and do your best to copy them. You’re definitely not the best dancer here but probably not the worst and that’s a win in your book.
The more the two of you dance the more you feel yourself let go of the insecurity and anxiety you’ve felt all night and let yourself feel the music and more importantly feel connected. Connected to the music, the dance, your body, and to Naran. It’s nothing intimate, nothing you’ll attach any deep emotional meaning to but it’s the most fun you’ve had in a long time and you hope he can feel the appreciation you have for him in this moment.
You dance for what seems like hours but in reality only about 20 minutes and decide a break is needed so he takes your hand and leads you back to your previous spot.
“I haven’t had that much fun in so long.” You chuckle out a winded laugh.
“It was fun.” He admits with a grin.
There’s a sudden chill that goes up your spine. A feeling that you’re being watched. Naran is saying something but you’re too distracted as your eyes scan the crowd, which has gotten much bigger since you’ve arrived, and finally your eyes meet that familiar intensity that you know oh so well.
Jake.
The emotion in his eyes only intensify when your eyes meet and you feel as though everyone else disappears under his daggered glare. You’re not sure how long you stare at each other but you’re snapped out of it by Naran clearing his throat.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” You apologize as guilt washes over you. What are you doing? You have one of the most attractive Na’vi men sitting beside you, begging for your attention. You turn to face him with a shy smile, giving him your full attention.
He’s quite funny and you find yourself genuinely laughing many times as he tells you stories about himself. He tells you about his brothers and sisters, 3 of each, and how he’s the middle child. He tells you about his passion for dancing and hunting and how much he loves his Sa'nok.
Throughout the night you allow yourself to take small glances towards Jake just to see what he’s up to. Sometimes he’s making small talk with strangers but most times he’s already staring back at you. You try giving him small smiles of reassurance that everything is fine and Naran is definitely not ill-intentioned but his facial features stay unchanged and indecipherable.
The fire is burning out gradually and you can feel the chill air hug your body tighter as the flames die off and Naran notices the small shiver that visibly runs through you.
“Are you cold?” He seems genuinely concerned which brings a warmth to your chest.
“A little but it’s fine. I’m okay.” You try to argue but he doesn’t accept it and wraps you up in the leather poncho he has been wearing all night, his chest on full display now. His hand slides down your back and rests on the small of it and you stiffen at the contact as butterflies settle in your stomach.
You’ve been on this planet for years with no intimacy, Jake being the only person of the opposite sex that you trust enough to get close to you and, though he’s a very touchy person and you often find his hand on your waist or his tail wrapped around your leg, he’s your best friend so it’s different. On Earth it was so simple to form connections, even just physical attraction was enough for most people but on Pandora it’s so much deeper and profound than just attraction. They mate for life. It sounds and feels shallow but you miss intimacy. You wonder if Jake ever misses it, if he feels the same longing for it as you do.
“Thank you.” You smile.
He smiles back and removes his hand from your back to grab your hand, encompassing your smaller hand with his large one. It’s a simple act but you’re still reeling from his hand touching your back earlier and this has stirred the swarm of butterflies that were finally calming down. You look down at your entangled hands, his fingers conforming to your extra finger in a poetic kind of way.
You’re so deep in thought that you don’t process the tall figure making its way toward you until he’s standing right in front of you, eyes burning with anger.
“Jake?”
“Come.” His tone is demanding, almost scarily so. You look at Naran but he looks just as confused.
You sigh and decide it’s probably best to do what he says, you’ve never seen Jake act like this and you don’t want him to cause more of a scene.
You stand and say goodnight to Naran, apologizing quietly as you turn toward Jake. You hope he knows the mouth full he’s getting when you get home.
You walk behind him and feel like a child getting in trouble by their parent. His shoulders are broad and tense and even in the darkness of the night you can see the healed scars covering his back. You wince as you look at them, the battle really did its number on him. You’re still mad at him but can’t help the impulse that tells you to reach out and comfort him.
You end up at the marui the two of you have shared since the clan relocated to High Camp and follow him in, expecting to be met with yelling but he stays silent and starts pacing back and forth inside the hut, his hand covering his face and tail lashing violently behind him. He’s making you anxious and even more confused. He brought you home so you could watch him walk?
“What the hell Jake?” You break the deafening silence.
His body stills and he moves his hand away revealing a furious set of eyes.
“Don’t.” He hisses out a warning.
“Don’t what? Ask what the hell that was back there? Why you’re acting so crazy?” You retaliate, not letting him get off easy. “That was embarrassing Jake.”
“I’m so sorry I embarrassed you in front of your little boyfriend.” He laughs back in a condescending tone, pacing once again.
You try to understand where his anger is coming from, what you possibly could’ve done to warrant such a moody attitude from him but the answer is lost on you.
“I need you to talk to me.” You plead with him but you’re met with radio silence. “Then I’m going back.”
That gets his attention. His body stills and he looks at you with a pained expression.
Pity settles in you and almost forces you to give in but this is a mess he created, a mess he could easily fix by just talking to you. You scoff at his silence and turn away heading out the entrance of the hut.
His hand grips your wrist before you’re able to fully exit and you turn to look at him.
“Please don’t go.”
Maybe it’s the shakiness in his voice that makes you relent but you let him lead me back into the hut.
“Jake please talk to me. I’m trying to understand here.” You tell him.
He rubs his hands over his face, something he does when he’s restless and frustrated.
You walk to him and place your hand on his bicep, feeling him tense under the touch.
“I can’t stand to see you with him.” He looks at you and his eyes scan every inch of your face, gauging your reaction.
Your eyebrows knit close together in confusion.
“Why though? He’s not bad.” You defend.
“Do you want him?” His stare is so intense you have to look away but his hand cups your jaw and forces you to look at him. “I need you to answer the question.”
“No.” You admit, ashamed. Sure, you enjoyed your time with Noran and can admit it’d be easy to dive into a courtship with him, if he were….. Jake.
Your breath hitches at the internal revelation and suddenly become too aware of how close Jake’s face is to yours and how intimate this feels. Too intimate.
Before you can pull out of his grip he gets closer, his breath fanning your face. “Do you want me?”
You lock your eyes with his and your brain screams at you to answer him truthfully.
“Yes.” You breathe out.
He lunges forward and clashes his lips to yours feverishly. It takes you a second to react but you respond with an equally as desperate pace. He pushes you against the wall of the hut with a groan that’s so guttural and so…. Jake.
The kiss deepens as you part your lips to allow his tongue to enter your mouth and the sound he makes goes straight to the most sensitive part of you. A primal need washes over you and you bite his bottom lip, letting your canines sink into the soft flesh as your arms wrap around his neck.
The kiss breaks only when neither of you can hold off your breathing any longer.
“Why did we wait so long to do that?” His shit eating grin makes your eyes roll.
“Because you’re a skxawng.” You push his chest away but he immediately comes back, your chests heaving together in synchrony.
“But I’m your skxawng, right sweetheart?” You shake your head as an answer, the pet name going straight to your core and he groans.
“Fuck, I can smell how much you’re enjoying this.” His words force a groan out of you.
His lips start a trail of hungry kisses down your jaw and neck and you lean your head back and give him a soft moan. His hands dance around your body, exploring what you’ve deprived him of for so long and you’ve never been so grateful to be half naked.
“I’m gonna take this pretty little top off of ya, alright babygirl?” His large calloused fingers play with the string of your top.
“Please.” Your voice is barely recognizable.
In a swift motion its laying on the ground beneath you and he stares at your chest. “Damn baby, why would you ever want to hide these?”
Before you have a chance to answer his mouth sucks one of your nipples in his mouth and your head is sent flying back in euphoria. “Oh fuck.” You moan and pull his head closer to your chest by his thick dreads.
Your other boob fills his free hand, the other one working its way down your body, rough and strong. Once his hand finds your loincloth he undoes the only piece of clothing you have left on. Jake stares down at your body with a greedy kind of hunger and drops to his knees, his eyes finding yours from above him and you’ve never seen something so obscene. The sight is enough to make your knees give out.
“So pretty.” His hot breath fans against your pussy and you moan desperately.
He’s wearing a goofy grin when you look back down at him and you would slap him if there was an ounce of composure left in you so you just grab his hair and shove his face forward a bit, desperately to feel his lips on you.
“Needy.” He laughs before closing the small gap.
“Fuck Jake.” You moan as his lips skillfully work against you. His hand snakes around your thigh and rests it on his shoulder, the new angle is heavenly. You breathe out heavily, his name echoing from your throat.
You can feel the edge getting closer and as much as you want to make a mess of his pretty face, you want to do this right. “Want you inside me when I cum.”
The groan he lets out at your words sends a vibration through your pussy and almost pushes you over the edge. You’re so close you can feel your legs start to shake so you gently push him. “I’m too close, please.” You beg, tears swelling in your eyes.
His lips are reluctant when they leave you and your body instantly misses the contact.
Jake stands up, hovering over you with his tall frame and heaving chest. How the fuck have you allowed this man to go even a day without touching you like this? Maybe you’re the skxawng.
He leans down to kiss you and you can taste yourself on his tongue. “That’s so hot.” A goofy grin paints his face. You love that he’s still so him even though he just had your pussy in his mouth.
You look down and realize that he’s still dressed, the outline of his untouched cock ever so prominent and his loincloth sports a wet spot where precum has leaked through.
You look at him underneath your eyelashes, getting nervous now that it’s your turn to please him.
“Gettin’ bashful are we?” He laughs and tucks a strand of loose hair behind your ear. The gesture is romantic so you let him get away with the snarky comment, also because he’s right, which you’d never let him know.
Your hands slide down his chest and outline the patterns you painted on it just hours ago in this very spot. His muscles contract under your soft touch. “So strong.” You whisper, more of a quiet observation to yourself than anything. He hums as he watches intently for your next move as your fingers ghost over the band of his loincloth slowly.
“Stop your teasin’ baby. Come on.” He whines and it’s the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.
“Ever the giver that even when you’re being neglected you still take care of me first.” You finally release his loincloth and let it fall. The whimper that falls from his mouth makes you desperate to hear it again.
His cock is huge and thick and so very pretty. The prettiest you’ve ever seen. You eagerly take him in your hand while sinking to your knees and he grunts as his hips thrust forward, desperate for more friction.
Your lips wrap around his tip and tease it a bit just to hear his pretty whimpers. “Baby.”
You relent and let your lips stretch to accommodate his size as you take him further into your mouth, his cock heavy against your tongue in the best way and you moan around him.
“Goddamn.” A deep hiss rips through his chest, his eyes flying open to look down at you. “Oh fuck.”
You look up at him through your eyelashes and start bobbing your head up and down his cock and let your hands take care of the bit that you can’t fit down your throat.
“You’re killing me.” He shuts his eyes again and covers his face with his hand, his teeth sinks dangerously deep into his bottom lip. You move faster, encouraged by his desperation.
His hips jerk forward with your movements before he places both of his large hands on the back of your head to force his cock deeper down your throat. You can feel tears form at the corner of your eyes but you welcome them. Jake is fully fucking your face at this point, using your mouth to get himself off.
“God fucking dammit, I’m about to cum.” He groans as his pace gets choppy and desperate. You moan around him and with a couple more thrusts and groans he’s cumming down your throat. Hot and thick. He pants and slows his pace down to smaller thrusts that help him ride out his orgasm.
Your jaw goes slack once you release him with a popping sound. Your eyes meet his again as you subconsciously lick your lips.
“Fuck baby, c’mere.” His eyes darken and his dick twitches slightly, already growing hard again and you stifle a giggle. He’s such a man.
You do as you’re told and stand, ready for Jake to lead you to his hammock, to make you his, when all of a sudden the tsamau sounds. A sound you’ve only heard a few times and still it brings a cold chill down your spine.
Danger.
The mood changes instantly and you both hurry to put your clothes back on. Frustration settles deep within you and you could cry if you didn’t have to be so alert and ready for whatever the two of you were about to face.
Jake looks at you with pity.
“Baby, I promise I’ll make this up to you.” He kisses you again before stepping out of your marui, hands interlocked.
Nikto and you have always had the uncanny ability to get on each other's nerve. You had your good days, yes, but those were few and far between. He was easily irritable -you had your suspicions as to why after working with him for so long- and being paired up with him more often then not meant that his irritation was more often then not directed at you. That, in turn, made you irritable, making it some sort of viscus circle.
Today event was the straw that broke the camel's back. Nikto just had to go around undermining your authority and giving the recruits orders that contradicted your. Which is how your fist ended up colliding with his face.
“Гавно… You will regret that…”
He was far from impressed with your outburst, but you weren’t about to back down now.
"Nikto, either fuck me or leave me alone, but don't fuck with me." You said firmly, seemingly completely seriously, shoving an angry finger in his masked face.
He froze for a moment as your words processed. He hadn't expected that. He stared down at you with wide eyes for a moment before scoffing and looking away. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense the heat spreading across his cheeks.
He crossed his arms, refusing to look at you as he tried to recompose himself. When he spoke, his voice was rougher than usual.
“Be careful… What you say.”
"I'm fully aware of what I said. You're so eager to get under my skin? Well my quarter's door is wide open."
You had no business just saying things like that.
His head snapped back towards you, annoyance very clear on his face, even if you could only see his eyes. And, obviously, you couldn't help but smile smugly at that. He took a step towards you so that he was towering over you, his gaze piercing.
“…Don’t test us. You know nothing of what you offer.” His tone was sharp as his jaw visibly tense under his mask.
"A good spanking and some clearly much needed relief." You answered teasingly.
Your words only served to further ruffle his feathers. He took another step closer, forcing you to crane your neck back just to look up at him.
“Careful… Keep talking like that and we just might accept.” His voice came out as a low and threatening whisper, his patience being pushed to its limit.
"Please do. I'm tired of you acting like a sexually frustrated ass."
Your audacity was truly astonishing. And god is it testing his patience.
“You clearly don’t know what you are asking for… You would not last five minutes with us, kitten.” He leans down, his warm breath fanning over your ear as he speaks through gritted teeth.
"Nikto, bedroom, now." You commanded firmly, rolling your eyes.
A mix of anger, disbelief, and excitement flashed through him as you made the demand. For a second it seemed like he was still going to protest, but the look in your eyes made his resolve falter.
He was very well aware he would most likely regret this. But that didn’t stop him from grabbing your wrist and quickly pulling you along with him. His long and quick strides forced you to break into a small jog just to keep up with him.
"Good, at least you still listen to orders." You chuckled out, quickly falling into step beside him.
Eventually, the two of you reached his quarters. He quickly opened the door and pushed you inside before following after, locking the door behind him.
He stood with his back against the closed door, eyeing you with a mixture of annoyance and arousal.
"Oh, don't stand there and look at me like that, мое сердце. Strip." You said with a smirk and a dangerous glint in my eyes, letting the pet name slip from my lips for the first time like sweet syrup.
His eyes widened as the Russian words left your lips, the sound of his language coming from you was… enticing, to say the least. He had never heard you speak it, didn't even think you could. He couldn't help but let out a scoff, trying to hide the way the sound of you speaking Russian affected him.
With slow and deliberate motions he shrugged off his coat, letting it fall onto the floor without care and then moving to unbutton his shirt.
"Like it? I've been practicing just for you, милый."
Gods, you really had no idea what you were doing to him. He paused for a second, only to continue unbuttoning his shirt as he responded, though his voice had noticeably gotten deeper again.
“You have our undivided attention. Continue practicing, котенок.”
"Oh, don't worry, there's going to be a lot more Russian in my mouth in a minute, it just won't be words." You said, smirk growing.
That comment alone was enough to make his brain short circuit for a second, his jaw clenching. Oh, you were trying to drive him mad, weren't you?
He pushed off the door and stalked over to you, his shirt hanging open enough to expose his muscular chest -deeply scared but oh so enticing still- as he loomed over you. He looked down at you like a predator that just caught its prey.
“On your knees, котенок.”
"Careful what orders you give, дорогой, you might regret them." You said in a sultry voice, sinking to your knees before licking a long stride over his still clothed length.
He swore under his breath as you dropped to your knees without hesitation. The way you moved, the things you were saying… It was all like you knew it would affect him.
As you ran your tongue over him his entire body tensed. He was going to lose any semblance of control.
“You… Brat… You know not what you’re asking for… We will break you, мед.”
"You'll try, doubt it will work though." You hummed out, keeping your face against in his clothed crutch as you moved to undo his belt.
There was that damn confidence again. He hated how attractive it was.
His body was coiled like a spring as you continued to challenge him. He watched you undo his belt, unable to stop the low grumble that rumbled in his chest at the sight of you. A hand reached down and tangled in your hair. He fisted the locks and gently tugged your head up, making you look at him again.
"You have a smart mouth… We intend to find better uses for it, котенок."
"Don't worry, I plan to put it to good use." You answered, pulling his pants down.
You were truly a menace. The way you were acting was downright insufferable. Nikto was used to being the one in the position of power, the one who called the shots and demanded compliance, not the other way round.
And yet here he was, watching you strip him, unable to find it in himself to stop you. Not to mention, the words you were saying, the things you were insinuating… It was making his blood run hot.
"Show us then, кот. Stop talking and prove it."
You pulled down his boxers next, letting his hardening length fall on my face.
His breathing was getting heavier. It was almost embarrassing how quick you managed to get under his skin. But he didn't have much time to dwell on it, he was too focused on the image of you knelt between his legs. Just the visual alone was doing things to him that was making his head spin.
His grip on your hair tightens as he stares down at you expectantly. His voice coming out as a low and breathy rasp, his usual accent thicker than normal.
“Proceed, котенок. Impress us.”
You chuckle, taking his half hard cock into your mouth without any hesitation. Gods, you were going to be the death of him.
His eyes snapped shut as you took him into your mouth. A guttural noise got stuck in his throat as he tried to suppress it. When he did managed to speak again his voice came out as a low and almost warning growl.
"Careful… your mouth is likely to get you in trouble, кот."
You smiled teasingly around his member, hands moving to his hips before giving him one good first suck
That goddamn smirk of yours, even with him in your mouth, you couldn't resist being a brat. The sight sent a jolt of arousal straight through him. He tightened his grip on your hair and grunted.
You could feel how he clearly wanted to use his grip on you hair to control your movement and fuck your mouth, but you didn't let him entertain the idea. You bit down ever so slightly, not to hurt him, but just to remind him where is cock was and what you could do if he didn't play by your rules. Just when he was starting to think he had you where he wanted you, you pull a move like that.
God, how he adored and despised your ability to keep him on his toes.
"Cheeky brat. You're doing this to rile us up, aren't you?"
You hummed in response, lips vibrating around him before you started to slowly move up and down.
You have an unfair ability to drive him over the edge. Every little move you made had him clenching his jaw tightly, trying to keep the noises in and some semblance of control.
Nikto looked down at you, your lips wrapped so perfectly around him. The image alone was almost dizzying. A low grunt escaped him as he tightened his grip on your hair, a silent warning that was more of a plea.
"Stop teasing and… do it properly, кот."
You keep going at that slow pace, taking more and more of his length in your mouth with each movement until you were consistently going all the way to the base, nose getting buried in his bush every time. You were trying to drive him insane. And at this rate, you were well on your way.
He gritted his teeth, watching intently as you moved. He was fighting the urge to take control, to show you who was really in charge, even with you previous warning, though a part of him was too curious to see how far you would take this.
"You… You're testing us, кот…" Another grunt leaves him as you kept going, his body tensing.
"Do you not get tired of playing with fire?… You might get burned, мед."
You stilled at the base of his cock, using the position to lick at the space between his balls and the bottom of his length. Oh, you were pushing your luck now.
He let out a low and guttural groan as you licked at him. His head falling back against the door behind him as his eyes screwed shut. It took him all his effort just to keep his hips still.
He looked back down at you. His gaze almost feral as he stared down. There was a challenge in his eyes. How far were you really going to take this little game before you gave in.
"Brat."
You were not making it easy for him, that's for sure. His patience and control were being tested constantly by you. Every move you made was calculated. Designed to drive him wild.
He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The hand in your hair tightening even more. At this rate, it was going to take a miracle for him to keep his composure. He cursed under his breath in Russian, trying to stop himself from giving in to his urges.
You gave his hips a gentle squeeze, making direct eye contact as you started moving quicker. And that alone was almost his downfall. Something about the way you were watching him, he couldn't look away.
His breathing got heavier, his chest visibly rising and falling with as he tried to maintain his composure.
"Damn brat… You… You have no… idea… what you do to us…"
I move one hand from his hips to his balls, fondling then, wanting to see him fall apart.
He grunted, his hips jolting from the contact. You were really pushing him past his limit. He was a powerful man used to having power over others, and right now, you had him in the palm of your hand and you knew it. You could see the internal struggle he was having trying to maintain control.
"F-Fuu… Dammit, кот…"
You could see how close he was to snapping. One more push and it would be game over. So you smiled teasingly around his length, still looking him in the eyes as as keep moving, licking, sucking, touching, doing everything you could to make him fall apart.
The sight of you, looking up at him with that goddamn smirk on your face while you had him in your mouth, it was almost enough to undo him. He had to bite his lip to stop a loud groan from slipping out.
He cursed again as his free hand clenched into a fist. "You little…"
You pushed him to his limit, and you got the reaction you wanted. His body arched involuntarily, a guttural moan escaped his lips as he threw his head back. In an instant, he lost all pretense.
"Fuu- Fuuuck- Ah… Ч-Что вы…Что вы с нами делаете?"
He was a mess, he was completely undone, vulnerable and exposed like he hadn't ever been before while you were just kneeling there, eagerly drinking up every last drop of his release.
His knees felt like they were about to give out. He was panting, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, eyes clouded over with desire. The image of you kneeling in front of him, willingly taking everything he had to give, it was almost too much for him.
You hummed, pulling back with an satisfying pop. "Feeling better?"
He was still trying to catch his breath, trying to steady himself as he watched as you pulled back, the sight had him gritting his teeth. Damn you. He looked down at you, the remnants of his release still on your face. His gaze darkened, and he spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
"Don't get any… ideas. We're not done with you yet, котенок."
You chuckled, raising back to your feet.
"Big, sexually frustrated boys that fuck with my work get release, but no pussy." You say, opening the door behind him and pushing him out. "Try to be good for a little while and maybe you'll have more." You teased before closing the door and locking him out of his own quarters.
"What did you do to Nikto, he actually filling up his paperwork in all earnest..."
"Sucked him off and told him to beave if he wanted more." You said without any hit of shame.
König just gave you that deadpan look, really not expecting that answer from you.
psychopathy - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader (MDNI)
masterlist
omegaverse smut with loser simon riley who thinks he’s damaged goods but even that won’t stop him.
(aka he’s so fucking obsessed with you and yet is so convinced that he’s not worthy enough for you that he sneaks into your office to fuck a pair of your used panties)
possession. bone deep obsession. everywhere he goes, you’re fucking there. maybe not physically, but traces of your scent, of your being, linger. a mug you sipped your coffee out of every morning that he stands by too long, the clear, sticky sheen of your chapstick still present on the rim (“simon, the fuckin’ a/c in here is on too godsdamned high all the time, it wrecks my lips”). the gun you had just used out on the range that you had meticulously cleaned before placing it back in the armory that he can’t help but sniff like a damn thing possessed as he walks by, your scent all but ingrained in the metal after spending so much time by your side. then, the tiny fucking post-it notes with your messy script littered around base, little reminders to yourself about plans and paperwork. no one notices when a few go missing, stuffed together in a wadded mess in the front pocket of his cargo pants. anything to keep a little piece of you closer to him. one post-it he stole sits in the top corner of the mirror in his private bathroom (perks of being an officer) is a messy reminder he swiped off of your desk a few months prior, a small coffee stain in the corner from where your mug from that morning had sat on it.
meeting with simon @ 13:30 (:
it was the smiley face scrawled after the little reminder that had really made his heart skip a beat, the ugly sense of need overtaking any rational thought. the small spark of innocent joy making his head go haywire.
simon is fucked. in more ways than one. sure, the fact that he’s absolutely obsessed with you is definitely part of it, but beyond that, he knows that he could never actually get close to you in the way that he craves. he’s broken. damaged. an irreparable, miserable excuse of an alpha that is little more than a living, breathing weapon.
none of that stops him from wanting it though. from spiraling.
and one day, he feels it. the feverish itch deep in his being, the very first signs of pre-rut. he knows what he’s supposed to do, what he should do, but the possessive, obsessive part of his fucked-up mind is hyperfocused on one thing and one thing only: you.
it starts small. he knows you go to the gym every morning before settling down to do some paperwork in your office, and he knows you keep your dirty gym clothes, rife with your sweet omega pheromones, tucked away under your desk. so, he sneaks in when you step out for a moment, determined to just snag a single piece of your clothing, just to keep the ugly beast inside him at bay. to keep him from doing something he knows you’d regret.
but, oh dear gods above. someone is watching out for him somewhere in the universe, because sitting right at the top of the bag is the pair of the panties you had worn to the gym, neatly-folded like it’s a present waiting just for him. he could cry from the way your heady, sweet scent wraps around him as he pulls the still-slightly damp scrap of fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply. his eyes roll back, a deep growl ripping itself from his chest. he doesn’t even care that the pheromones - your pheromones - are slightly stale on the fabric. it’s you. his mind is reeling, and the feverish itch climbs ever closer to its peak, and he can feel his rut barreling towards him at full-force.
his logical side knows he needs to keep his distance. he knows he’s not good enough for you, that he could never be the alpha you need. but fuck, how he wishes he could be. he glances at the door for a moment, attempting to gauge how much time he has before you get back, but his rut-addled mind is slow, thoughts sliding through honey-thick. all he can focus on is your scent, and the way his cock presses heavily against his cargos.
he doesn’t even think. he pushes out from underneath your desk, but he doesn’t go far. he settles behind your desk, his back to the wall to keep his sight on the door. he tells himself it’s to make sure he can see when the lock starts jiggling, so he can pretend this never happened, but a part of him, a sick, twisted, damaged part of him, is hoping that you will catch him (and that you’ll like it).
your panties are pressed back to his nose as he quickly unbuttons his cargo pants, his cock thick and heavy and already weeping as his scarred finger sweeps over the slit. his eyes roll back as he takes himself into his hand properly, stroking quickly as he huffs at your sweet scent.
but it’s not enough. it’s not enough.
his hand is rough, and no matter how much pre-cum leaks from his angry red slit, it’s not nearly as pleasurable as he knows sinking into your tight, slick heat would be. he groans in frustration, tears of obsessive need pricking at the corners of his eyes. he throws his head back as his thumb brushes over the particularly sensitive underside of the head of his cock, but it’s still not enough.
well, if he can’t fuck you, he’ll take the next best thing.
he brings your panties down to his cock, wrapping them around his length as a barrier, your pheromones wrapping around his cock in a mockery of the way he wants them to, and he starts fucking up into his hand in earnest. it’s better, but all he can think about is mounting you and fucking you stupid until his knot locks you together. as the images flash through his mind, he leans forward, his free hand holding onto the carpet as he adjusts himself so that he is on his hands and knees, completely fucking into your panties like he wishes he could fuck into you.
he’s so close. surrounded by your pheromones that have soaked into your office space, he doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to absolute ecstasy. the pistoning of his hips is getting sloppy, and he can feel his balls tightening, but then he hears it. your keys engaging the lock on your office door. he’s fully panting now, trying desperately to reach his release before you get inside, so that you don’t have to witness the true level of his depravity.
he hears the lock click open, and that is what sends him over the edge. he cums loudly, growls and groans and your name falling past his lips as his cum soaks the panties still wrapped in his hand.
he’s still on his hands and knees, his massive body shaking from the magnitude of the release as he tries to catch his breath, and he hears your keys clatter to the floor, accompanied by a sharp gasp of surprise.
Slight angst, angst to fluff (?), Drinking, Smoking, PWP.
This is heavily inspired by c.ai bot.
They were beautiful. No — not just beautiful. Unreal.
Gods above and below, if they existed at all, must’ve carved Remus and Sirius with the same fever dream. High cheekbones and low-lidded stares, hands made for sin and mouths that could ruin lives. Together, they were devastating.
y/n wasn’t even surprised when she heard they’d started dating. Of course they had. It made too much sense. The way they looked at each other across the Great Hall, like the rest of the castle didn’t exist. The way Remus smiled when Sirius lit his cigarette, and how Sirius stared at Remus’ lips like they were a forbidden text he intended to memorise line by line.
It wasn’t fair.
She watched. Always from a polite distance. Behind other people’s laughter. Over the rims of butterbeer mugs and the tops of textbooks. She listened to Mary, and Dorcas, and a few others — voices low, giggles sharp, stories sticky with implication — talking about nights with them. The kinds of nights that didn’t leave bruises so much as they left theology-questioning flashbacks.
y/n tried not to care. Failed, obviously.
She wanted to be one of them. One of those girls they took to bed on a whim. A shared curiosity. A beautiful mistake. She didn’t need love, not from them. Just a taste. Just a slice of their world. Something to cling to in the quiet, aching hours when she couldn’t sleep and her body remembered every laugh, every glance, every almost.
But she wasn’t special. Not to them. They never looked at her the way she looked at them. Never paused when she entered the room. Not even when she wore lipstick like warpaint and skirts that barely earned a dress code violation.
To Sirius and Remus, she was just… another.
And then came that night. That fucking night.
Too much alcohol. Way too much.
Lily, Mary and Davey had smuggled in muggle bottles — sharp little monsters with names like vodka and tequila, and no one knew their limits anymore. The party spilled across the room. Bodies tangled on cushions. The kind of chaos Hogwarts pretended didn’t exist inside its walls.
Sirius was slouched on the couch, legs spread obscenely wide like he owned the air itself. His shirt was half open. There was a purpling bruise on his collarbone, probably old, probably earned laughing. His head tipped back, neck on full display, eyes half-shut, drunk off his arse.
Remus sat next to him, long legs crossed at the ankle, lazily smoking something that wasn’t tobacco. The end glowed like a warning in his fingers. He blew smoke through his nose, chuckled at something James said — something obscene, probably, about positions or kinks or beds that weren't theirs but were used anyway.
And then both of them looked at her.
Through the haze. Through the music.
She didn’t move. Couldn’t.
She was fucked — not literally yet, but spiritually, chemically. Head spinning. Skin hot. Too many shots burned through her blood like wildfire. The walls were melting, but they were solid, sitting there like gods disguised as boys, and her every nerve screamed go to them.
She wanted to be that girl — the one they remembered with a smirk. The one who made them blink slow and say, “Yeah, her. That night.” And maybe she would be.
Their eyes stayed on her a little too long.
You thought you'd imagined it at first the weight of their stares, the stillness beneath the music. The common room swayed in gold and smoke, laughter rolling like thunder against the walls, but in that instant it felt like everything had tilted toward her.
Sirius was the first to move. He tipped his chin toward Remus, muttered something that made the taller boy’s mouth curve, and then they both rose. The crowd seemed to part without quite knowing why, a ripple of glances and shifting bodies, and suddenly they were close enough for you to smell the smoke on their clothes and the faint sweetness of firewhisky on their breath.
“Enjoying yourself?” Sirius asked. His grin was crooked, careless, but there was something behind it... a curiosity, almost wary.
You managed a nod. “Trying to.”
Remus’s eyes flicked to the bottle in your hand. “Maybe slow down. Those are stronger than they taste.”
“I’m fine,” you said, too quickly. It came out brittle, defensive, like you had to prove you could keep up.
Sirius chuckled, low and quiet. “You always say that before you’re not.”
The words shouldn’t have stung, but they did. Maybe because of how easily he said you always, like he’d been paying attention all along. Before you could think of something clever, Remus plucked the drink gently from your fingers, set it on the table. His hand brushed yours, brief, steadying.
“Come sit down,” he said, voice softer now. “You’ll make me nervous standing there like that.”
You should have laughed, should have made a joke and walked away, but you didn’t. The couch dipped beneath you as you sat, the room spinning slightly, and suddenly Sirius was beside you, knee pressed warm against yours. Remus leaned back on the other side, long fingers idly tracing the rim of his glass.
The three of you spoke for a while or maybe they didn’t. The words blurred, fragments of jokes and questions that you couldn’t quite hold onto. What you remembered were flashes: Sirius’s laugh brushing against your shoulder, Remus’s hand steadying you when you swayed, the thrum in your chest that felt dangerously like hope.
Somewhere near midnight, the crowd thinned. The music softened to a heartbeat in the background. You remembered Sirius leaning closer to say something and the world narrowing down to his mouth, to the sound of your own pulse. You remembered Remus’s quiet smile over the rim of his glass, a small, secret thing that made you dizzy for an entirely different reason.
Then, nothing certain just warmth, voices, the soft blur of being seen.
When I woke, the morning light was thin and merciless. My head ached, the room smelled of smoke and alcohol. For a long moment I didn't know where I was. Then I felt it.
The weight of a blanket, the press of someone's shoulder against mine. I turned my head just to see them. Both asleep, breathing evenly, the quiet between them deeper than any dream.
At I first I felt my throat tigthened. I didn't remember enough to know what happened, only enough to understand what it looked like.
For a few fragile seconds I let myself believe it. That maybe this meant something, that maybe they'd wanted me as more than a passing thought of an alcohol. I traced the light across the curve of Remus's jaw, the streak of silver in his hair, the way Sirius's hand twitched slightly in his sleep like he was reaching for something.
Then the doubt came to me, it came as fast and cold as the morning air through the slightly open window. They looked so peaceful, so complete and I realized no matter how much I wanted to be one of the girls they kept near them I would never be part of their own world. I will never be, I was a guest in a story that had already been written: like the girls they slept and threw aside. And whatever happened last night -if anything had- would fade into the same smoke and laughter as every other party in this castle.
Carefully, I slipped put from between them, feet bare on the cold wooden floor. The blanket fell away. Neither of them stirred instead just got closer to eachother's embrace.
By the time I reached the door, my hands were shaking. Not from regret, not exactly. It was the kind of shaking that came from knowing I have touched something beautiful that was never meant to be mine.
Outside, the dormitory hall was quiet. I looked through the stair's, few students fell asleep at the common room. James and lily sleeping heavily on the red couch placed by the fireplace, hugging eachother tightly. Marlene and Mary passed out on the carpet their legs tangled together like they fall asleep during drunken late night conversation and for a brief second I wished I should've been there instead of with Remus and Sirius.
I sighed shaking my head and cursing at the disgusting taste that alcohol left on my tongue, I really needed a hot shower to relax my muscles.
I entered my shared dormitary with the girls, surprisingly Dorcas was awake doing her bed, she looked at me as I entered inside. A wicked -probably ready to tease- smirk creeped on her face. I walked towards to my bed, "Well, how was the night?" She trailed behind me, her arms were crossed waiting for an answer.
"I don't know what to feel, really. I just feel more tired than yesterday and I just feel..." I stopped not knowing how to end the sentence, I sat on my bed. I could feel her drilling holes on my back with her stares.
"I want to talk about this later." I murmured dropping my head low staring at the wooden floor. Staring at it like it was interesting, she only hummed and patted my shoulder in response.
I didn’t see them for the rest of the day.
Classes blurred together, each one a different kind of noise that my mind refused to hold onto. The professors’ voices came and went like the tide low, rhythmic, meaningless. I wrote notes I didn’t read, smiled when someone laughed near me, but it was all mechanical. I couldn’t stop replaying the morning in fragments: the way Sirius’s arm had fallen across Remus’s waist, the warmth still lingering on the pillow beside me, the sunlight touching their faces as if it knew something I didn’t.
By the time evening came, I was exhausted from pretending not to think. The Great Hall buzzed with its usual chatter, spoons clinking against plates, the scent of roast pumpkin heavy in the air. I sat as far down the table as I could manage, half-hidden behind a stack of bread rolls, hoping to disappear among the noise. Dorcas was talking about something —probably Slughorn’s latest disaster— but her words washed over me like static.
And then I felt it: that subtle shift in the air, a hush that wasn’t really a hush, but something that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I didn’t need to look up to know.
Sirius.
He slid onto the bench across from me like he’d always belonged there, elbows on the table, the usual reckless grin replaced with something unreadable. His eyes stormy gray and sharper than I remembered found mine immediately.
“Been looking for you all day,” he said, voice low enough that it barely carried over the noise.
My fingers tightened around my cup. “Why?”
“Because you disappeared,” he said simply, like that should’ve been explanation enough. “Remus thought maybe you were sick. I thought—” He hesitated, tongue running over his teeth like he was trying to find the right words. “I thought maybe you were avoiding us.”
I forced a small, humorless laugh. “Didn’t realize you’d notice.”
That made him blink, his expression shifting from careful to confused. “Notice? We woke up and you were gone. Of course we noticed.”
The way he said we made my stomach twist. It sounded natural, familiar the kind of effortless we that came from years of belonging together. I wasn’t part of that. I’d never been.
“Right,” I said softly. “You and Remus. You looked… comfortable.”
His brow furrowed. “Comfortable?”
The laugh that slipped out of me was small and sharp. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have stayed. You probably both thought—”
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Thought what?”
“That it didn’t mean anything,” I said, the words coming out too fast, too bare. “That I didn’t mean anything.”
Something flickered across his face confusion, maybe. Or surprise. I didn’t wait long enough to find out.
“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered, pushing back my body to stood up from wooden long chair, crossing my legs to the epmty space behind me. “It was stupid of me to think otherwise.”
And before he could say my name, before he could make it worse by being kind, I walked out.
The next morning came with rain. The castle felt heavier when it rained the stone darker, the corridors colder. I spent most of the morning wandering between classes, keeping my head down, taking routes I knew they never used. I told myself it was better this way, cleaner somehow. If I didn’t see them, I could start to forget.
But fate, apparently, had other plans.
I found myself in the library, tucked in the back between two shelves that smelled of old parchment and dust. My fingers traced the spine of a book I wasn’t reading when a shadow fell over the page.
Remus.
He stood there quietly for a moment, one hand in his pocket, the other holding something I recognized immediately. My house scarf.
“You left this,” he said. His voice was low, careful, the kind of gentle tone people used when they weren’t sure if you were about to bolt.
I stared at the scarf for a beat before reaching out. “Thanks.”
But he didn’t hand it over. Not yet. His eyes searched mine slow, deliberate and I hated how easily he could see through me.
“You’re upset,” he said finally.
“I’m not.”
“You are.” His mouth curved faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You left like the castle was on fire.”
I looked away, toward the narrow window streaked with rain. “You and Sirius looked… happy. Peaceful. I didn’t want to ruin that.”
Silence stretched, long and tense. Then, quietly, Remus stepped forward and placed the scarf over my shoulders himself. His fingers brushed the back of my neck featherlight, grounding.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured. “You were part of it.”
I turned to face him, the words catching somewhere between my ribs. “Part of what?”
His smile deepened small, shy, but real. “Last night. All of it. You weren’t an accident.”
I wanted to believe him. I really did. But before I could answer, a voice came from behind him.
“He’s right, you know.”
Sirius.
He stood at the end of the aisle, hands buried in his pockets, hair damp from the rain. His expression was softer than I’d ever seen it stripped of his usual swagger.
And then suddenly Remus huffed out a laugh. “We argued over who’d apologize first.”
Sirius’s lips curved, faint and tired. “He won.”
“You let me,” Remus murmured.
Sirius glanced at him, something unspoken passing between them, then turned back to me. “We should’ve said something last night. Should’ve made it clear.”
I crossed my arms. “Made what clear?”
“That we both wanted you there,” he said, and his voice broke a little on the word both. “Not because of the drinks. Not because of the noise. Just… because we wanted you.”
The library felt impossibly quiet then even the rain outside seemed to pause. My chest ached in that terrifying, wonderful way that hope does when it starts to creep back in.
Remus stepped closer, his hand brushing mine, tentative but warm. Sirius followed, his fingers grazing the other side. The air around us seemed to hum, something fragile and alive taking shape between our joined hands.
For the first time since that morning, I felt like I could breathe again.
I let out a shaky laugh, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “You two are terrible at communication.”
Sirius grinned. Really grinned this time, bright and unguarded. “We’re learning.”
Remus’s thumb traced gentle circles against my knuckles. “Slow learners,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
I squeezed their hands, feeling that warmth bloom through me quiet, steady, real. “Then I guess we’ll just have to keep practicing.”
warnings n tags: smut without plot, mdni, cockwarming, est. relationship, no use of y/n, p in v
The sound of the rain was occasionally drowned out by the rumble of thunder, the sky so thick with gray clouds that there was barely any light filtering through the windows. The room was still dark, plunged into shadow. Your body flinched as a flash of lightning illuminated the room, a sigh escaping your lips.
“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” James murmured, pressing you more firmly against his chest, gentle hands sliding down your back, groaning as he felt your walls squeezing him. His fingers tightened on your hips as you threatened to writhe again, keeping you still. “Fuck, no. You can’t do this, doll.”
Frustration burned beneath your skin, every muscle in your body begging you to move your hips, desperate for any friction, any relief. “S-sorry.” You whimpered, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes as you felt your pussy clench again, as if it wanted to hold him there forever.
Eyes closed, you pressed your face against his chest, your breath coming in shaky gasps as you tried to fill your lungs with air. You knew you shouldn’t do this, that the more you begged, the more arrogant he would become, but you couldn’t swallow the words, not when your pussy was throbbing wildly around his cock.
“Jamie, p-please—”
His fingers tightened, pulling you tighter against him. The small movement caused a small friction that made you gasp. You tried, really tried to roll your hips, but his grip was steely, almost painful, sure to leave marks. You looked up, searching for some mercy, but all you found was an unyielding gaze. His jaw so tense it could cut through a diamond.
“Stop. It,” he hissed, eyes narrowing as he watched the desperation etched on your face. How you had become a little thing thirsting for his cock.
You bit your lip, the first tear rolling down your cheek like a pearl bead as you shook your head, your walls contracting even more, squeezing him as if your life depended on it. “I-I can’t.”
A growl scratched his throat. Fuck. You were squeezing him so, so much, it was delirious. His eyes trailed down your face, admiring the way your eyelashes were damp, your mouth swollen and parted, your face flushed. Desperate for him. He should make you suffer more, he knew you could take it, but there was something about seeing you like this, hungry, crying for his cock, that made him more merciful.
James lifted a hand, his thumb wiping away the salty trail the tear had left on your skin. “This is so pathetic, we’ve barely started and you’re already crying.”
You looked away as his words hit you, but James cupped your face, watching as your bottom lip trembled. More tears brimmed at the corners of your eyes. Something in him softened at seeing you like this.
He knew you were close, could feel your walls fluttering around him, trying to pull him deeper. But he was determined to make this last, to savor every second of your delicious desperation. You were so receptive, so hungry for his touch. It made him feel powerful, invincible.
James leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke in a low, raspy voice. “You’re being such a good girl, taking me so well. I know you want to move, love, want to fuck yourself on my cock until you scream. But you have to wait for me. Wait until I tell you to come.”
He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of his hips, burying himself even deeper inside you, the head hitting the spot that made you see stars. A low moan tore from his throat at the exquisite feel of your tight heat enveloping him. He was addicted to the way you made him feel, the way your body accepted him, embraced him, like you were made just for him.
Your eyes rolled back, whimpering again. Your body trembled in anticipation, but he didn’t move again, remaining buried to the hilt in your greedy cunt. “J-Jamie,” you began again, your voice frail, small, trying to get some friction, but he remained still, holding you tightly against him.
He shook his head, looking at you with a mix of sympathy and cruelty. “You need to learn to be patient, love.”
He tightened his grip on your hips, keeping you still as he slowly ground his pelvis against yours. The head of his cock kissed your cervix with each small movement, making you gasp and shiver. He was being deliberate, tormenting you with the slightest hint of stimulation.
“Such a greedy little thing, always so hungry for more,” James teased, his breath hot against your ear. "But you'll get your reward if you can be a good girl and wait until the rain stops."
warnings: porn without plot, knotting, slut talk, rough sex, jack not being able to stay being rough with his partner, mentions of eating out.
nsfw under the cut
your boyfriend jack always had the careful restraint around you. he never did anything that could come close to hurting you
so when you said that you didn’t care it hurt, he didn’t know what to think.
“honey, cmon you don’t really want me to.. wait- you’re serious?” he says with confusion laced into his voice.
“jacky, come on. i wouldn’t be joking about this right now.”
You’re right. He knows you wouldn’t make a sudden joke when you’re bent over and he’s about to slip it in.
He had already taken his time with you. Taking forever and dragging out two orgasms entirely until you were shaking and begging. Twice. He ate you out twice. Hadent properly fucked you a single time yet.
“you’re positive?” You nod your head yes before he can even conclude his sentence. He doesn’t need to hear another word. he’s already slamming his hips into yours without a second thought. His hands graze your back and push you down, and hard too.
His tip nearly kisses the inside of your stomach. Your moans and cries of his name fall from your lips and tears prick the corners of your eyes.
“You asked for this, slut. this is what you wanted right?” He says while slowing himself to an agonizing pace.
You can’t form a sentence from the sensory drop. He really went from everything all at once to almost nothing at all.
“J-jacky-“ You whimper his name, but it comes out pathetic. Weak.
“That’s not what i asked you. i didn’t ask you to say my name.” He whispers to you. Not softly. He’s rough. His voice is like sandpaper, and you are silk.
“Please please keep going Jack— this is what i wanted- please!” You’ve given in. You told him, and just like that, his hips snap foreword into yours again without a moment to loose. His name spills from your mouth again and again. He knows exactly where inside to hit, and god does he fuck hard. You’re afraid you could bleed, but you couldn’t care less anyway cause he feels so good.
You can’t speak anymore. Only broken whines and whimpers come out of your throat.
“You gonna cum? You gonna cum for me bent over like this? you’re such a slut— and just for me too.” Jack knows exactly what to say to you. he always does. He’s right. You really are acting like a slut. You’re literally bent over the arm of the couch. Your feet are slightly off the floor, and the floorboards are creaking under jack like they’re ready in sync with your pleas.
That familiar white hot feeling builds in your gut.
“Jack-Please let me-“
you tighten around him and he groans. Not loud, but enough for it to make you shiver.
“Sweetie- Can I?” He’s asking. He can’t stay too rough for too long. you know it.
“Go ahead“ you almost whisper to him. He immediately pulls out. You’re confused until he spins you around and lays you down on the couch. He gets on top a little too eagerly and pushes back in. A unfamiliar shape touches the rim of your pussy, and next you know he’s pushing his knot all the way in. Your arms fly to be wrapped around him.
“Jack.. fuck!” You’re bursting on him at the same time. white liquid spurts out from inside you and around his cock.
“Oh god honey..” He’s cumming inside you, white ropes of thick white liquid spill deep into your gummy walls. You scratch at his back as it happens. You’re breathing heavily.
He leans up and kisses you. Even though he can’t see you, he just knows with every bone in his body that you look beautiful right now. Fucked out from head to toe.
He whispers to you “thank you.” before gently and slowly pulling out.
