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delirious-donna · 12 days ago

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Kento finds your journal and vows to return it, but not before he accidentally sneaks a peek… or, the time he read that you wanted to climb him like a tree.

Oh fuck - no! No no no. Please don’t have read it. I’ll do all my weekend chores rather than playing videogames and I’ll even unpack that final box that has been sitting in the spare room if you’ll do me this one solid favour.

pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

tw: embarrassing situations, teacher Kento and teacher reader, thigh riding, use of pet names (darling and sweetheart), dirty talk, Kento being more forward than usual, rewrite of an old story (it’s better now, promise), brief appearance of Satoru

The notebook caught his eye; magenta in colour, clearly well-thumbed and definitely not meant to be here, in the teacher’s lounge. He rolled his neck against the uncomfortably lumpy couch until the cracking noise of stiff joints popping made him wince.

With a resigned grunt, Kento sat forward and glanced at his watch.

His next class was due to begin in ten minutes and if he were honest, he felt rather unmotivated to inspire the next generation on this particular day, a feeling that was becoming painfully regular. Fixing the knot of his tie, which he had loosened upon entering the lounge, he lamented on how every day seemed to bleed into each other.

It had been so stiflingly long since anything new or of interest had occurred and he was starting to feel drained from the mundane, walking through each day like a zombie. Heaven help him, it was a frighteningly familiar feeling.

On his way towards the door, he picked up the offending notebook that was stuck between the couch cushions and glanced at it curiously. Your name was emblazoned on the front cover, written in glittery silver ink. Nanami passed a finger over the lettering, his lips tilting into a thin smile at how irreverent it appeared.

He knew you were a few years younger than he was, that you had only become a teacher at the start of this academic year after a sudden change in career, and to say you were a little shy would be a gross understatement. Kento could probably count the times you had spoken to him on one hand, and each one had been a rushed experience, as if you couldn’t wait to retreat from his presence–was he really that intimidating?

At that rather depressing thought, he resumed walking, intent on delivering your notebook before arriving at his own classroom to greet his darling little bastards charges for the afternoon lecture.

Of course, things would never be that simple, nor straightforward when you worked alongside Satoru Gojo.

The white-haired whirlwind hurtled into him as soon as he ventured into the hall. A barking laugh bounced off the walls as Gojo clapped him heartily on the back and effectively knocked the notebook from his grasp to flutter to the floor.

“Ah, Nanami-san, just the man I was looking for,” he thundered. “Could you do your bestest friend in the whole world a favour?”

“If you are referring to yourself with that sentiment, Gojo, then the answer is of course, no.”

Satoru pouted, Kento grimaced.

Celestial blue eyes peered over the rim of his round sunglasses whilst Kento bent to retrieve the book that had tumbled out of his hands and was now spread open at his feet. His eyes narrowed on the hastily scrawled text that he couldn’t quite make out, but… that was his name that he was staring at.

He was aware that Satoru was still talking, the man would continue to ramble away to himself forever, but Kento held his hand aloft to cease the incessant drone.

A strange, but not unpleasant heat coursed through his veins, and something he hadn’t felt in the longest time stirred in his chest. The wild thump of his heart drowned out his pesky colleague’s yammering as he was finally able to read the line of text that referred to him. A sentence that you had hastily scrawled and then ringed again and again with a fluffy cloud border.

Why does Nanami-san have to be so goddamn big and sexy? What I wouldn’t give to climb him like a tree…

He was sure that he could feel the warmth spread up his neck, his collar suddenly too tight, and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed the runny saliva pooling inside his mouth.

It would be a lie to say he hadn’t admired you, although always from afar. He knew he wasn’t the most social of men, a sentiment his annoying friend constantly reminded him of. Added to the fact that Kento had been sure you were terrified of him, and he had no intention of making you feel uncomfortable, he kept his distance and his daydreaming to himself and the privacy of his bedroom and shower.

Only now, did he wonder if that discomfort had been something else entirely…

“Will you do it?” Satoru asked, shaking his arms with his long spindly fingers and offering a wide cocky smile.

“I wasn’t listening, and no. I’m going to be busy,” he replied, brushing his fellow teacher’s hand from his forearms and pushing past him to his classroom.

He could care less for the deflated look that the snowy-haired menace threw over his shoulder, there were more important matters on his mind and a knowing smirk curved his lips. The smirk was mirrored by the very man he gave his back to, and that was just fine in his book.

No longer did he detour to return the notebook. Oh no--he’d deliver it back to you safe and sound once the day was over and everyone else had cleared out.

It had been a long day. A tiring one too, and the prospect of spending your precious evening hours behind your desk marking exams and writing assignment commentary was unwelcome.

As if the universe could hear your lament, they sent you a curve ball you could never see coming…

A determined knock shook you from your thoughts. The pen in your hand fell to the desk at the same moment you leaned back in your chair, inviting your unexpected visitor to enter.

Your mouth ran dry as the very man you least expected to be calling in on you, walked inside. Least expected but most wanted, secretly, of course. There was no way you were earning yourself a reputation for flirting with your colleagues, even if he was so painfully handsome it made you chew the insides of your cheeks every time you were in his presence. Not because you were shy, because you were a little, but because you didn’t trust what might come out of your mouth! Best to keep those thoughts inside your head where they were safe.

Kento turned to shut the door, the lock flicking silently into place so as to avoid any embarrassing interruptions, before he bowed his head in greeting.

“Nanami-san, what can I do for you?” you asked, impressed that you had managed to speak without tripping over your words. It was certainly an improvement on previous attempts.

It was near impossible not to admire him as he stood near the back of the class. The collar of his azure dress shirt had been loosened, the tie askew as if he had been pulling at them both with insistent fingers. Fingers that were currently drumming against the taut muscles of his forearms. There was something about a man with his sleeves rolled to the elbows that never failed to send you into a feral kind of heat, and right now was no different.

Why did he have to look so downright tantalising? Why did your thighs have to clench together like you were some horny beast in an actual heat?

The aloof expression, the way that he seemed to caress you with his hazel eyes and the simple pleasure of how big he was. At the end of the day, you were no better than an animal, and you animal brain was saying that big was good. Big would rock your world given the chance.

“I found something that belongs to you and thought I should return it,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh? That’s kind of you, what is it?”

You wondered what he could have found, mentally scanning your memory of something you might have misplaced or been looking for. Standing, you took two steps forward but froze in place at the sight of your personal notebook held in his large hand. Surely your heart had seized in your chest, it certainly felt like it had.

Your eyes widened, looking from the notebook to his face and back again. For a second you thought your silent pleas had been answered, but when had life ever been so benevolent to you before? Kento winked almost imperceptibly, and you wished that a sink hole would form beneath your feet to save you from this mortification.

Heat rose to your cheeks in rushing waves. You swayed unsteadily on the spot with your hand outstretched for the book, desperate for some distance but needing the offending item back in your possession.

Kento chuckled and the deep baritone rumble felt as if the sound resonated within your own body. It stroked at you with exploratory phantom touches although he hadn’t moved. Your every muscle tightened whilst you waited for him to hand over the notebook that held some of your wildest fantasies.

When he held it over his head instead of depositing it into your awaiting sweaty paws, you swore it felt like the air was sucked from the room. It seemed like he had read a very specific piece of information, and you would die of embarrassment.

“I suggest…” he drawled almost lazily. “That if you want it back, you best climb me for it.”

“You—you weren’t meant to read that,” you whispered, staring into the depths of the floor.

A pair of sturdy but unassuming boots came into view. You frowned, surprised.

Two fingers fit beneath your chin and raised your head up to meet his gaze. There was a prominent frown between his eyes that hadn’t been there seconds prior, and you couldn’t help but admire his sharply angular face even if you were doing your best to look anywhere but into his eyes.

“I apologise… perhaps that was a bit too forward. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but you see... I’ve thought about you a lot and not just because I found your notebook? Journal? Doesn’t matter.” Kento exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. “You think I’m big? I don’t see it myself, but then I was never my best critic.”

You nodded in affirmation, where was the point in denying it now? His eyes softened, crinkles forming in the outer corners whilst his thumb lightly grazed your jaw. Roasted coffee grounds and notes of sandalwood invaded your nose as his head bent lower, towards your ear.

“Then I will repeat myself only once, sweetheart, climb me if you want it back.”

And so, you did.

You climbed him like a feral little animal.

You reached the offending notebook and hurled it to the floor without a second thought. His laughter was warm and the most boisterous you had heard from him. It made you follow through with your impulse to hook your arms around his strong neck, fingers curling into the rough undercut at his nape. Your legs were quick to follow, circling his waist until your entire front rocked into the wall of muscles that was his body.

“Tell me, what else have you put in that saucy little journal about me, hm?”

“You didn’t read it all?” you asked, almost shocked at his level of restraint if it were true.

Kento shook his head, and you believed him. He wasn’t one for lying. “I wanted to hear them from your mouth.”

“Oh… that’s… mm. Anyone ever told you that you’re as perfect as a fictional man, preferably one created by a woman? Don’t answer that,” you clamoured, pressing your hand across his mouth as it stretched open to reply.

“There’s—uh—this one thing.” You nudged the tip of his nose with yours, moving to speak directly into his ear.

Kento’s breath caught in his throat as you whispered about getting off on his thigh, his hold at your waist, which has stayed appropriate until then, tightened and moved towards your backside—squeezing.

With you still attached to him like a koala, he seated himself on the edge of your desk, lowering you until you were spread over one of his incredibly thick thighs. Your skirt bunched around your middle to accommodate the position as his expansive palms wandered your sides, pawing at your hips and palming your ass with a groan.

In no time at all he was dragging you along the length of his thigh. Your underwear was ruined by this point, your clit throbbed from the friction, the seam of yours and his clothing catching you in deliciously new ways and you still hadn’t kissed him.

You remedied this terrible oversight with enthusiasm, delighting when he startled at your forwardness before he melted, shoulders sagging. It was everything and more. No fantasy could live up to the reality. Kento kissed softly, thoroughly. Whilst he continued to lead the rhythm of your body as you rode his thigh, he was more than happy to let you lead here.

His mouth was surprisingly hot for a man who always seemed to remain cool and composed, a deep groan rumbled in his throat when you curled around his tongue and sucked on the warm, wet muscle. The warmly spiced scent and taste of Kento filled your lungs and evaporated any sense of reason you might have had about making out with a fellow teacher in your classroom. It didn’t matter. Only this mattered.

“Feel good?” he asked as you parted for much-needed air. His rough fingers gripped into the fat of your behind, reaching beneath the hem of your skirt to bunch the cotton of your underwear until he was forcing the material between your slick pussy lips.

You nodded enthusiastically, drawing his lower lip into your mouth and sucking on the tender flesh in earnest. Kento was manhandling you in a way that would make any staunch feminist blanch, but it was exactly what you wanted, exactly what you needed.

“You’re making a mess on me, darling.”

“So, I’m you’re darling, am I?” You quipped back despite sounding out of breath. He was right about the mess, there was an embarrassingly long wet streak on his tailored slacks from being manipulated along his thigh. You were fucking yourself against the strong muscles that flexed beneath you and leaving the evidence for anyone to see.

“I think I’d like that,” he admitted with a hum, planting kisses to your neck and collarbone.

Your orgasm was coming in fast; the combination of the friction against your clenching cunt, the large palms gripping into your ass as if he owned it and his delicious mouth teasing your skin was speeding you towards the finish line in haste. His admittance that he might like some kind of relationship with you was the final nail in your coffin, so to speak.

“Nanami-san!”

Blond hair fell into your vision, urgent lips pressing open-mouthed kisses to your cleavage and the swell of your breasts. His tongue flickered at your flesh, warming you up before sucking possessive purple bruises that would be hard to explain later.

“Kento,” he breathed against your collarbone, “call me Kento, my darling.”

Gods, could he be any more perfect? It was as if he knew exactly what to do and say to set you off like a firecracker!

You shrieked in surprise when Kento lifted you like you weighed nothing—you most definitely did not weigh nothing. He held you tight as he turned your body so your back was flush with his chest, rearranging you over his broad thigh once more but this time you could feel the prod of his prominent erection at the outside of your hip. It was thick and imposing, distracting but only in that you wondered what it would look like, feel like—in your hand and stretching your walls.

“Go on, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh,” he cooed, nipping at your earlobe.

Kento grabbed at your breasts, squeezing the doughy mounds between his fingers whilst you rode his thigh to completion, pinching you through lace and chiffon. The orgasm that hit was staggering; it stole the air from your lungs, the equilibrium of your body and the sight from your eyes.

White lights pulsed behind your eyelids as you gushed like a surging waterfall over his trousers, ruining your underwear and skirt in the process. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't for the primal-sound growl that emanated from his chest. The almost bestial sounding war cry that made you shiver whilst you floated back down from ecstasy.

“Atta girl. There it is. Mhm, so good for me. So receptive. Can I take you home?” Kento asked, his voice thick and strained with unspoken emotion. “Cause I think it’s my turn now, and I can't wait to see how goddamn perfect you’re gonna look taking my cock.”

You smiled, drunk on the bliss. “Sure thing, big boy, but let’s not make this our get together story for the grandkids, yeah?”

You were so glad he found your notebook, even if you had no idea that it was Satoru Gojo that you needed to thank in the first place...

#delirious writes #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #nanami smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #kento x reader #kento smut #jujutsu kaisen smut

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k4vehrtz · 6 months ago

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WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE YOUNG, YOUNG LOVERS? dom ! nanami kento / sub ! m. reader

content warnings. nsfw content / hybrid au ergo predator - prey dynamic where applicable / bunny hybrid ! nanami & reader / explicit mentions of and allusions to social anxiety / age gap (reader is 25 + nanami is 45) / satosugu cameo / self - degradation (brief, nanami) + mild degradation (r receiving) / fingering (r receiving) / spontaneous sex / ‘bunny’ & ‘little rabbit’ used as a pet name / doggystyle / ass‐to–mouth / overstimulation / heat cycles / nipple play / explicit consent / reader is shorter than nanami but there is no explicit description of a body type / virgin nanami ergo loss of virginity

word count. 3K

notes. i’ve had this bunny ! reader req in my inbox for a while and it has been on my mind so i decided to explore a couple ideas :) i’m dyslexic so any errors just give the fic personality

nanami had, over the course of his life, nurtured a particular distaste for other human beings.

he’d grown up in a city — one that never slept; a city that hummed to the tune of debauchery. busy days pre–empted busier nights. and he’d always remember two things: one, that the winters were cold, but the people there were always colder and two, he’d stuck out in a crowd.

hence, at the age of forty–five, he’d decided to leave.

“… so let me get this straight,” satoru, who’d made it his mission to mimic a koala, says as he untangles himself from suguru after having concluded that this was, in fact, a serious conversation. “you’re moving to a small town to avoid human interaction more efficiently instead of addressing your underlying social anxiety?”

satoru naturally spoke faster than the average individual, but his pace increased near the end of his sentence. nanami pretended not to notice (something he’d become exceptionally good at).

“real subtle, smart ass,” suguru hadn’t though, narrowing his eyes at his partner before turning his attention back to nanami, “i think it’s a good idea, better environment to write and all.”

writing, yes. he’d gotten in the habit during high school. it was nothing more than a hobby — something to pass the time between classes. being a loner by choice (as he’d liked to call it), he’d had a lot of time to get lost between the lines of an empty notebook. and being a creature of habit (in the self–proclaimed ‘right’ opinion of the startlingly blue–eyed man sitting across from him), he’d made a career out of it.

“i…suppose,” he responds almost nonchalantly, lacking the energy that his two closest friends possessed.

he hasn’t written since his last work — a collection of essays on how one’s perception of their surroundings is impacted by one’s perception of oneself — was published two, almost three years ago.

he’s embarrassed, a sensation that sticks to his skin uncomfortably and the silence that falls between them only exacerbates his discomfort.

“i’ll see you two, then,” he speaks up after the silence proves to be too much for him, standing to his full height in a bashful sort of way that can only be described as endearing — typical for rabbit hybrids.

the two fox hybrids, long since accustomed to the abrupt end of get–togethers, exchange their goodbyes as they stare at his retreating form with sympathetic eyes.

and nanami, instinctively observant of his surroundings to a fault, doesn’t have to turn around to know the expressions that colour their complexions. he can feel it — the eyes of predators following his every move.

he exhales slowly through his nose: once, twice, and then a third time before the intensity of his heartbeat subsides. they’re his friends, not a threat.

his stride resumes, albeit awkwardly, with full awareness of the fact that he has a problem. he’s had a problem for a long time. but running comes naturally to prey animals.

designated ‘safe spaces’ for prey animals had become the norm in recent years following a series of unfortunate events. the café you worked at was one such establishment.

“…i’m so sorry for the delay, my co–worker called in sick so i’ve been on my own and today is a lot busier than—”

nanami clears his throat, his intention crystal clear, and your ramble comes to an abrupt end.

warmth gathers beneath the surface of your cheeks as you raise your gaze to his, though he swiftly looks away, “what can i get you?”

without looking at the menu, he responds, “a croissant,” and you interject, “so you’re the croissant guy!”

he stares at you for a moment before slowly repeating after you, “the…croissant guy?” and when you smile at him, he can’t help but think that he’d need sunglasses if you were to do that again.

you apologize for the second time before continuing, “you should know by now that there aren’t that many people that live here and, between you and me, even fewer people that buy our croissants,” a distinct warmness to your tone.

nanami nods thoughtfully, responding curtly with an indifferent, “i see,” as he pays for the pastry before finding himself someplace to sit with his laptop.

it’s been a week since he’d first arrived and he considers himself familiar enough with his new surroundings. all that was left to do was to write but, as it turns out, a change of scenery only goes so far.

as he stares at the empty document on his screen, his thoughts wander back to a few minutes ago. you’re a new face — he presumes the co–worker you’d mentioned was the barista he’d met before.

but his thoughts wander so far before you appear at his side, croissant in hand, “i heard you were an author, that’s pretty cool,” and your seemingly perpetual smile curling your lips.

you mean no harm; it’s merely an attempt to be polite, making small talk is perfectly normal. but nanami isn’t normal, he feels strange, a surge of anxiety materializing seemingly from thin air.

“you heard?” he repeats after you, stumbling over his words, and he feels stupid and embarrassed.

you tilt your head to the side, your overly large ears flopping as you do so, before taking it upon yourself to sit across from him.

“isn’t it great to have places like these to ourselves?”

he raises a brow at the sudden change of topic but you continue nevertheless, “i think it’s great, ‘cause you get to meet people who understand you. there’s a book club at the library down the street this saturday, i think you should stop by if you have the time to spare,” before excusing yourself, leaving as fast as you came.

nanami lowers his eyes to the croissant, not entirely sure of what had just happened. while you stare at him from behind the counter, a complex mixture of emotions colouring your expression.

“i think you should go; it won’t hurt to get out of the house.”

satoru’s voice echoes through his laptop’s speaker and nanami falls into contemplative silence.

“besides —” suguru interjects, “you’ve been seeing that therapist, right? i bet she’d agree that this is a step in the right direction,” moving into the camera’s frame as he settles down on satoru’s lap.

they’re not wrong; he, deep down, knows that they’re not wrong, but he hesitates all the same.

“i don’t know,” he breathes out after a moment of silence, pushing the pickled vegetables around his plate with his reusable chopsticks absentmindedly.

the line of communication falls silent once more and then suguru responds, “whatever you decide to do, we support you,” before ending the call.

and nanami exhales slowly, staring at his reflection on his laptop’s screen. he’s aged (of course he has), baby fat no longer rounds his cheeks, and crow’s feet round the corners of his eyes.

but, even now, he stands out — and nanami hates standing out.

he’d stood out among his peers; other prey animals were shorter, always shorter. there was always ‘too much’ of nanami — it made him easier to spot and made his movements awkward. he never fully knew what to do with himself.

rabbit hybrids were meant to be small and cute, two things nanami wasn’t.

you, on the other hand, were the epitome of society’s expectations; smaller and sociable. at least, that’s what he’d observed over the past four days. and he doesn’t hate you for it — ‘hate’ is too strong of a word to describe how he felt.

‘envy’, however, leaves a bad taste in his mouth, it ruins his already depleted appetite, and he pushes the ceramic plate of pickled vegetables away from him when the thought crosses his labyrinthine mind.

he doesn’t envy you; that would be absurd. but, isn’t that what this world is, absurd?

‘it is’, he decides as he changes into more suitable clothing for leaving the house — abandoning his pyjamas for a white shirt tucked into the waistband of black slacks. it was plain, nanami liked plain; he liked uniformity.

but you, you again, you were anything but plain.

as he rounded the corner of the library after receiving directions from the librarian, a sweet elderly woman, your brightly coloured sweater caught his eyes first. it stood out amidst the piles of books of all different shapes, sizes, and colours that surrounded you.

his gaze flickers to the watch around his wrist, an all too familiar sensation creeping up on him. he’d come too late. but the sound of your voice drags him out of his thoughts before he can spiral any further. hell, he hadn’t even noticed when you approached him.

“you should get out of your head sometime.”

he narrows his eyes at you, not entirely because of what you’d said (though it played a role) but because of how you said it. now that you were in such proximity to one another, he can’t help but acknowledge that you look terrible.

you sound as though you’d just run a marathon, your chest rising and falling in quick succession. without thinking he presses the back of his palm against your forehead, beads of sweat dampening his skin but he doesn’t mind. you’re burning up.

“christ,” he grimaces as he gives you a once–over, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his own body begins to heat up in a similar manner.

so, this is not a regular fever, duly noted.

“i don’t consider myself a believer but each to their own,” you grin, a lopsided type that nanami swore could give him cavities. but now is not the time for that.

he clears his throat, making the conscious decision to ignore the growing strain of his cock against the fabric of his slacks, and asks carefully, “do you need a ride home?”

nanami’s studio was a blank canvas; untouched white walls, and brand–new furniture (some still encased in its plastic wrapping) in different shades of grey. even in your heat–induced haze, you could tell that this was a ‘house’, not a ‘home’.

he doesn’t comment on it though, so you keep your thoughts to yourself as he gently guides you to his designated bedroom.

the mattress sinks under the combined weight of the two of you. your chests rising and falling in sync as you stare into each other’s eyes, your oversized ears touching in a way neither of you knew could be so pleasurable until now.

“i look old enough to be your father,” he murmurs, his voice breathier the longer his body hovers over yours. and your response comes between laboured gasps, “i’m—oh shit, you’re big—twenty-five, don’t worry, i’m a big boy.”

you can feel his growing erection through the fabric of his slacks against your own. and the air between the two of you feels charged, igniting as he lowers his lips to your throat, his warm breath feeling like miniature needles against your sensitive skin, “do you or do you not want this?”

it’s the question of the hour and you nod eagerly but he pauses, holding your chin between the soft pads of his thumb and index finger as he tilts your head upwards, “i need words, bunny, think you can use your words f’me, bunny?”

your lips part, a low, open–mouthed moan cascading down your tongue before you manage to form a coherent response, “i want ‘you’, not ‘this’.”

and your choice of wording is not lost on him, he hears you loud and clear.

“i’ve never done ‘this’ before,” he blurts out, embarrassed by his lack of cleverness when compared to your confession only moments prior.

it is the truth though; something he prides himself on being to others — truthful. although it’s up for debate how forthcoming he is with himself.

he had, however, every intention of taking you back to your place wherever that may be. but as the distinct floral scent indicating the arrival of your heat enveloped the confines of his car, he had to make a decision that was for the best of both of you. driving while approaching his heat was no better than driving while intoxicated; thus, the choice was clear.

“i can teach you,” comes your response, sounding as though it took a great deal of effort to say whilst pushing yourself up into a seated position, unintentionally bumping your forehead against his in the process.

“it’s so warm,” you both groan in unison as you pull away from each other, removing all articles of clothing deemed ‘unnecessary’ which truthfully rendered you both nude.

your state of undress mattered not, though, as nanami promptly leaned to the side, rummaging in the upper drawer of his nightstand for a moment before retrieving a lubricant specifically designed for rabbit hybrids (a gift he’d received from the ocean–eyed freak) and handing it over to you.

which you happily accept, coating both your own and his fingers in a considerable amount of lubricant before leaning against the headboard and spreading your legs.

you carefully guide his palm between your legs, gently nudging the tight ring of muscle with one of his fingers.

“i haven’t done this in a — fuck fuck fuck, your fingers are thick,” you hiccup, your breath catching in your throat as you rapidly descend into a string of curses as his finger breaches your entrance. the sudden intrusion hurts, but in the midst of your heat, it’s enough to send you over the edge, your toes curling as ropes of cum erupt from the head of your cock.

and there’s that bad taste in nanami’s mouth again, clinging to his bones and invading his muddled thoughts: ‘you just have to be perfect, don’t you?’ but with it comes the realization that he’s the reason why you’re like this and it fills him with an odd sense of satisfaction.

determination renewed, and perhaps in tandem with his desire to experience such relief, he cautiously adds another thick finger whilst you come down from your high.

“is penetration all it takes to send you over the edge, little rabbit?” he questions, curling his fingers towards what he presumes is your prostate, and you can’t help but whimper.

it’s strangely degrading when you think about it; nanami, a rabbit, a prey animal like yourself taking on a dominant role. a role that isn’t in his nature thus his tone remains mild–mannered whilst his words and actions, while cautious, are the exact opposite.

another finger is added — the total amounting to three now. you’re stretched around three of his thick fingers as he memorizes the layout of your insides, curling his fingers in such a way that he grazes your prostate with precision.

instead of teaching him, you’re rendered speechless as he maintains a steady pace with his fingers. the sound of your gasps, moans, and whimpers creating a symphony in the otherwise silent studio.

by the time he retracts his fingers for the final time, you’ve already climaxed two more times, your cum splattered across your bare abdomen.

“you’re so easy, little rabbit,” he whispers as his lips ghost yours before fully enveloping them in a heated exchange of saliva. there’s no real heat behind his words but you shudder nevertheless.

when nanami pulls away from your lips, it’s solely because you both need air. a string of saliva, however, remains connected to both of your lips, a testament to the heated kiss.

as you both catch your breath, you take it upon yourself to reposition yourself so that you’re on all fours, gleefully presenting yourself to nanami who obliges you.

your thighs tremble in silent anticipation of what’s to come, your loosened ring of muscle winking invitingly. but it’s not his cock — no, when the wet muscle breaches your entrance you squeal, almost losing your balance had nanami’s hands not been on your hips.

it’s a strange sensation — his tongue in your ass, his warm breath wafting across your most sensitive region. but you slowly adjust as he ravages you, lapping at your puckered entrance as you subconsciously clench and unclench.

and in a matter of minutes, you’re climaxing once more, the muscles in your pelvis twitching convulsively as your erect cock spurts ropes of cum onto the sheet beneath you.

nanami pulls away from your ass with a ‘pop’, aligning himself with your entrance before easing into you and savouring every spasm of your gummy walls. he doesn’t move until he’s buried to the hilt, angling his hips as he thrusts into you with a steady pace, his balls colliding with your sensitive skin.

you’re overwhelmed by a sense of euphoria, having experienced multiple orgasms. so much so that salty tears roll down your cheeks as you feel nanami throb inside of you, the angry tip of his cock bullying your prostate relentlessly.

he truly is brutal, desperately chasing his high as one of his hands wanders up to your chest, taking your nipple between his thumb and index finger and teasing it.

nanami’s thoroughly bullying you but you can’t even protest, ‘uh–uh–uhs’ tumble past your lips in rapid succession along with the overwhelming urge to please him rearing its head.

thus, you endure his assault on your body until you fall limp on his mattress in a puddle of your cum as his leaks out of your entrance, some cascading down your inner thighs.

you’re still asleep when nanami wakes up the next morning, golden rays filtering into his apartment through the blinds. and he takes it upon himself to wipe your unconscious body with a damp towel from head to toe before taking a shower and heading into the kitchen.

a sense of dread settles in the pit of his stomach as he ponders the various directions the conversation the two of you are bound to have may go. but with it comes a new perspective.

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #nanami x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x y/n #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #nanami smut

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girl-of-many-fandoms · 11 months ago

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Insufferable

Pairing: Tim Bradford x Reader

Summary: Y/N has a lot to say about her lovely T.O.

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

----

"Hey sunshine, haven't seen you since roll call." Y/N shot daggers at her friend as she plopped down into her seat.

"I have had a long morning and that infuriating thing of a man didn't make it any easier." Nolan, Chen and West couldn't help but laugh at their friend's misery. They all had the pleasure of working with officer Bradford one on one so they knew the hell he was giving the rookie.

"I honestly don't know how you all put up with him and his method of training. I swear to God that man is half robot, half man. He's insufferable!"

While she was busy ranting about Tim, she failed to notice her friends were no longer snickering at her rant, smiles long gone frome their face as Tim stood silently behind her hearing every word from her mouth.

"I'll add that right to the list of names I've been called, Boot." Y/N felt all the colour drain from her face hearing Tim's voice directly behind her. She stood up and turned to face him.

"Sir I'm sorry-"

"Save it, let's go." Tim stormed off towards their patrol vehicle, not interested in hearing a thing she had to say.

"Someone's in trouble."

"It was nice knowing you."

"I hate you all." Y/N managed to take a bite out of her sandwich and a large gulp of her soda before trailing behind her clearly ticked off T.O.

Tim sat in the driver's seat, watching her drag her feet back to the car. She wouldn't admit it but the officer scared her even more in this moment as he watched her like a hawk.

He watched silently as she got in and buckled up. With a shake of his head he started the vehicle and pulled away from the curb. He drove past three blocks before he finally said something.

"If you think that I have been hard on you these past couple months, I am about to make your remaining months as a rookie even more insufferable. I could easily make this your last day but that would be me being nice."

Y/N wished that she could've disappeared at this very moment so she wouldn't have to deal with whatever hell Tim was surely going to put her through.

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x y/n #the rookie #the rookie imagine #the rookie x y/n #the rookie x reader

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dandelionjack · 6 months ago

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another really well-designed visual storytelling element of dot and bubble is the decision to have the fifteenth doctor star in it wearing his “doctoriest” costume yet. doctor outfits vary, of course, but a unifying trait is some kind of suit/smart-casual style and long jacket — subverted in many cases, obviously, but even thirteen wears the long hoodie and suspenders, and twelve’s punk fits still follow roughly the same template, nine has his leather jacket doing the job — whereas fifteen has most noticeably stepped outside that mold for the past few episodes, starting with the kilt and open-shouldered vest (!) in TCORR, then the t-shirts and, in general, far less rigidity.

but in Dot and Bubble, you take one look at this man and know: he’s the Doctor. which is why it creates such a powerful feeling of juxtaposition — all this ‘Doctor-aura’ posturing that usually works on side characters straight away completely fails to have any kind of effect in the face of unabashed, impenetrable bigotry. the clothing is a kind of uniform, it provides reassurance that this man *is* the doctor, that he’s come to rescue you, that he’s the same person he’s always been. but not to the residents of finetime.

since time immemorial (the second doctor’s era, but maybe even earlier, i haven’t seen much hartnell so correct me if i’m wrong) the doctor’s been asked — “why am i talking to you, why am i telling you my secrets?” and he’s always replied that he has a “face you can trust”. it’s time lord magnetism. people are naturally drawn to him. he commands a room. people begin to follow his orders because they know on some primal, innate, subconscious level that this entity is going to help them survive and make their existence better.

which is why it’s so jarring when they don’t. the racism, privilege and prejudice that clouds their eyes is genuinely so strong that it almost works like a perception filter, blocking out the doctor’s natural charisma, his bottomless kindness, all of the superhuman qualities that make him irresistible. they don’t see the charming 2000-year-old Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey that is going to “save their lives and everyone else’s”, long jacket fluttering out behind him as he runs, holding his hand outstretched like a beacon of hope. they see a Black man and nothing else, and that puts him beneath them no matter what he says, no matter what he does, how he proves that *he’s the Doctor*. to fascists, race stands above everything. you can be accomplished, talented, wise, clever, brilliant, but to them, the simple fact of the colour of your skin renders you unworthy. and that’s why they’re beyond saving.

#doctor who #dot and bubble #doctor who meta #doctor who analysis #dw meta #ncuti gatwa #fifteen #fifteenth doctor #dw #doctor who series 14 #ruby sunday #costume design #costume analysis #russell t davies #the doctor #kitty.txt

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jam3sacaster · 19 days ago

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“Just breathe with me, darling.

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 I hope this was what you envisioned! / Rupert calms you down after a panic attack. Anxiety warning.

18+ FANFIC / Soft. Not too long but as always, got carried away! Reader character aged 21.

As always, request what you wanna see on my ask box 💋

Incessantly tapping the edge of your pen against your desk, the skin of your lip peeled under your canine as you anxiously chewed at the corners of your mouth. It was 4pm, and you had turned your production notes into Tony Baddingham’s office precisely 24 minutes ago for his approval. At the moment, work was hard. Tony did his absolute best to berate, humiliate and insult you. All because you and Rupert Campbell-Black had made yourselves official and the whole office was astutely aware that they despised each other.

Taking a quick glance over at his office, you caught a glimpse of your superior pacing up and down his office, flicking nonchalantly through your notes, not quite taking them in and not at all caring. Your vision went black as a pair of rugged hands covered your eyes. Breathing in, your mind immediately calmed — You recognised that sweet, aromatic aftershave from anywhere. “Guess who?” The opulent, inebriating voice sounded from behind you. You couldn’t help but grin and spin round in your chair as the hands removed themselves from your eyeline. Rupert, smartly clad in his hunting gear, was holding the most tremendous bouquet of flowers one had ever seen — lavish bunches of roses, lavender, and peonies. An exquisite array of colours and the most stunning fragrance. “Rupert! You shouldn’t have!” You burst with glee, standing up and throwing your arms around his neck, embracing him and pinning yourself to him tightly. The grin plastered across his jaws was unlike Rupert — a pure, genuine display of joy. You had really got under his skin, for the better.

“I was passing on my way to the hunt. I thought you could do with cheering up, I know that miserable bastard has been getting on your nerves as of late.” He muttered the last part, and shot you a wink. Rupert wasn’t passing — in fact, the florist was precisely 15 minutes away from the location of the hunt, and Corinium’s office was 26. He just couldn’t resist seeing that beaming smile on your face. From his office, Lord Baddingham had been keeping a firm eye on you both, and swung his door wide open. “What are you doing here? Who let you in? Get out.” The erratic man spoke, pointed finger waving brutishly at Rupert. Your lover jokingly threw his hands up in defeat, and took a step back from your desk. “I’m going, I’m going.” He spun around on his heel to leave, but quickly turned back. “Just quickly, Tony, how are your ratings doing since Declan left? I heard from a certain insider that they are absolutely tanking.” A devilish grin painted Rupert’s face as he spoke, he knew exactly which buttons to press of Tony to make him explode. Tony’s face grew a remarkable crimson shade, and you could almost physically see the steam rush to escape his ears. “Get the FUCK out of here, you cunt! You and your fucking whore! You’re SACKED!” Spit flew from the corners of Tony’s enraged mouth, fists clenching so tight his nails were drawing blood from his palms.

Despite sitting in a web of his own making, the red mist subsequently descended over Rupert and he raised his own clenched first to swing a punch. Except, he would have done, had he not first heard frantic hyperventilating from the seat beneath him. You threw an outstretched palm across your chest — trying to calm your breathing. But, it was futile. You felt your throat constrict and your vision tunnel in. Tony, along with everyone else in the office, watched in stunned silence as your panic attack tightened its cruel vice over your body. Rupert, however, immediately knelt beside you and pushed your chin upwards with a curled finger. “Hey, hey, angel. Breathe. Just breathe with me, darling.”

Rupert kept his distance at first, not wanting to constrict you anymore than you already felt. Instead, he maintained constant eye contact and took slow, calm deep breaths whilst facing you, urging you to do the same. God, this man could fix anything. Steadily, Rupert took a hold of your hand and placed it over his heart— allowing you to feel the rhythmic thumping and encouraging your own to fall into the same beat. Wiping tears away with your other hand, you took a trembling exhale and allowed yourself to take a moment of calm. Shooting Tony a menacing glare, Rupert lowered himself again and directed your gaze towards him. “I’m here, angel. I’m not going anywhere.”

That was enough to coax inconsolable sobs from you. Safety and protection was all you craved, and Rupert certainly gave it to you. Practically falling into his arms, he allowed you to sob into his shoulder. His warmth had a vice-like grip over you — unwavering and shielding you from the world. His veined hand stroked through your hair softly as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. “Don’t do this to me again, darling. You know I’m always here. You’re safe with me, beautiful.”

He pulled you from your chair with the strength of one arm, and tucked you closely into his side, simultaneously picking your bouquet up with the others. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you home.” He muttered, and you gently nodded your head in agreement, allowing your body weight to melt into his. As he beckoned you away from your desk, he shot one last look at Tony — he was never going to forget this.

“Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear.” - Jane Eyre

#rivals #rivals fanfic #rivals fanfiction #rupert campbell black #rupert campbell-black #my own dreadful writing #requests <3 #alex hassell

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yandere-yearnings · 24 days ago

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Contract-Bound Death (Yandere!Actor x GN!Reader)

feat. Viorel Dalca

♡ pt.0, approx. 1k words | next.

♡ post-specific warnings: (off-screen) murder, mentions of murder, mentions of blood, the entertainment industry, dark themes, implied use of contracts as a threat | series warnings: yandere themes, the entertainment industry, reader has a guilt complex

♡ a/n: we're pretending it's still 'around the end of october' so i'm not a liar. this is purely a work of fiction. yandere behaviour in real life is a cause of concern. unedited, not proofread.

♡♡♡

It’s the middle of the night, and the floors are still stained with blood when you arrive. Thin smears across marble, flaking up when the wheels of your suitcase roll over them. You'd convince yourself it was just rust that had formed over time, but the lie would die too easy for you to try. After all, now you were working for the devil — and who would he be without murder to his name?

You see him for the first time under the low lights, chandeliers casting dim orange overhead. The Vio before you looks so very different from the one you'd watched from the other side of your screen. Lacking his trademark blue, blonde to the roots and rolling over, wearing white as blank as the look he shot you, brow raised into a pinched arch. You tell yourself that his disdain is only so palpable because he's been through these exact motions a million times before. You tell yourself that it's only natural.

His attention shifts quickly, back to his script and the lines highlighted in electric teal. It's at this point you realise he isn't going to give you the time of day, that he won't even consider it. All the training leading up to this moment has whittled away your hopes, and finally, they've diminished. Wiping away cold sweat for the promise of six figures lying somewhere in your future, praying that if you didn't last the week, you'd at least be fired instead of killed.

Unlike the last man in your shoes.

The lump in your throat is firm where it lodges itself; you swallow once, twice and give up. Dry lips parting so you can speak, hoarsely. “Hey.” Already, the nerves have made formality slip your mind. “I'll be working with you from now on. Your new manager.”

Vio scoffs and flicks a page. you think you notice him glare. “Hey,” he mimics, “it’s been a minute and I already can't stand you.”

Wincing at the harshness and deciding that now isn’t the time — that there would likely never be one since the rumours about him had proven to hold — you steal away. Thankfully, Vio doesn’t give you a harder time for it. You suppose he wanted you out of sight, so he wouldn’t.

At least you had your room to look forward to. Back in the winding hallways that this job forced home to you, all your life packed up in the little fabric box that trundled on behind. These white walls made everything seem like they stretched on forever, made you feel awfully alone. A wide world you’d stepped foot on, it was funny how you had been so ready only to get lost so soon.

Tomorrow’s schedule was an early start, high rise at the break of dawn so the light felt more natural on camera. Vio was shooting a solo scene. He’d be the only actor on set. Somehow that did nothing to calm your nerves. Somehow it made them worse. Up velvet steps, your footprints pressed their marks. The choice of colour made you remember something that a producer had said to you before this: that scarlet covered scarlet well. Your stomach churned.

On the ceiling of the top-most storey, there was a brown door nestled in the far corner. You stopped and stared at it for a long while, at the string that dangled down, worn and frayed and used time and time again by different hands. Yours would be the next to pull it, and maybe you didn’t want to anymore. Over your shoulder, there was the winding staircase that you’d just traveled, leading back down to the entrance. The sight drew a sigh from you, it was choked and wet because no matter how much you were beginning to regret this all — you’d signed your life away. That entryway could never be an exit to you.

So you turned your back to it.

Pulling down and unfolding the steps didn’t take much effort, yet the hinges seemed strong. You hauled your luggage up first before you followed, just to stall a second more. Surprisingly, the attic was unlike the rest of the mansion. A largely wooden interior gave it character, and strung fairy lights around potted plants made it feel warm. For a single moment, you found your breath taken in a better way than it had been all week, and then it filled back into your lungs entirely cold because there was something you’d almost forgotten. A dead man had lived here before you.

The way the image kept haunting you, you were starting to convince yourself that it must’ve been your hands that wrapped around his throat and strangled the glimmer from his eyes. They never did, though. It was Vio who took his life. You’d watched it happen from a ways away, but it had still been in front of you. You’re not sure what you had been expecting after that, things were too late; before you could even breathe a word there were papers being held to your neck like knives and they all had your name on them.

As you shut yourself in and sat there, in the glow you’d been greeted by and that had started to flicker, you finally broke. Your tears were hot but that didn’t make them any comfort. You were scared. Everywhere you turned you were met with the dead looks of people who had seen it all again and again and again. Unable to understand how you were the outlier in this normality. Terrified that Vio didn’t seem even the slightest bit remorseful. Terrified that you’d get used to it.

World spinning, all a blur on your heavy bones. Fatigue settled and inside you knot after knot tied. You felt heavy, like you’d been flooded entirely in water. No matter how much you cried, the sensation did not ebb. Perhaps your guilt remained to save you. Perhaps it endured, on your mind as the last thing, so that you were still human when you woke up come morning.

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode II

Concurrent Tides

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. Most illustrations are now on her patreon.

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19) Warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, profanity, age gap, aggressive rut cycle, heat cycle, dom/sub dynamics, jealousy/posessiveness, knotting, marking, scenting, praise kink, breeding kink, size difference, p in v, mating/bonding, multiple climaxes, creampie, ralak is a bit of a meanie in this, let me know if I forgot anything? Word Count: 10k Requested: Yes || No Author’s Note: the second special episode is finally here. sorry it took forever to get it out, but better late than never :') i hope you guys enjoy <3 theres another part to come after this one! 🤍 Synopsis: what happens if you and your new mates cycles sync?

<- Previous Next ->

——

“Only I knot you.”

That was the first time you’d ever seen Ralaks eyes shift in colour. That same night right after he pulled you out of his memory of his first rut. A beautiful, deep blue, glistening before your honey glazed orbs. It’s barely been a week since that night, yet it replays over and over. Day and night. How he looked at you with nothing but unadulterated greed, hardly catching his breath as he tried to steady his galloping heart. It was something deep-rooted and primal.

Something animalistic.

Since, you’ve longed to see him fully immersed in such a state. A state where self control and sexual desire no longer coexist. He’s always too concerned with you and what he thinks you can and cannot manage that he never allows himself to do what he truly wants. The level of restraint you feel through the bond is indescribable. A level you nor any other na’vi could conceivably attain. Regardless, most nights you find yourself fantasizing about this ‘lack of control’ right before bed.

Nights like tonight.

Where the stars shimmer so brightly that you need to draw the curtains, and the air is exceptionally cold and crisp that you need to huddle closely together for warmth. When your nose is buried so deep into his chest that there's no other choice for his scent to fill your lungs. And tonight he smells extraordinarily good. The salt of the sea mixed with leather hide. And oddly enough, he smells like… home. The forest and its greenery. It’s quite ironic but perhaps it’s Eywa’s way of saying that this man is truly yours. It's so comforting and right. Like a cup of hot tea on a stormy night, never failing to put you to sleep. A remedy that works in seconds — but not tonight.

Tonight you’re restless and he can sense it.

“What is it?” Ralak husks, shifting his position to hold you a little closer. “Cold?”

Truthfully, you’ve been feeling a little off. Your body has been restless and haunted. As if it could sense some sort of change of shift in the atmosphere. Or perhaps it was between the two of you. “No.” You mumble, lifting your head to look up at him. “Just can’t sleep.”

Ralaks ears twitch, a little surprised his typical soothing techniques aren’t working. He sits up quite quickly, bringing you up with him as he scoots back into frame of his bed. His brows lower when he ponders about what could be keeping you so on edge. He takes note of your flushed appearance and the minute changes in your eyes, they’re glowing a little brighter recently.

His brows jump when the realisation dawns on him.

Could it be? He knows it’s close but is it really already affecting you? How is that possible? And does that mean it will be even more severe this time around?

He had every intention to stay but perhaps it’ll be more difficult than he expected. He should really tell you, but he knows exactly how that would play out. You would get your way as per usual, it was hard for him to deny you of anything you wanted. A quick swish of your tail and it was yours. Ralak took pride in caring and providing for you. But not for this. This was just plain dangerous. And therefore he couldn’t allow you to figure it out. It’s ultimately safer that he keeps it to himself, at least until you’ve adjusted to him a little more. Your intimate moments together are very few in number after all.

“Why is that, tanhì?” He asks in a low, steady tone, fixing his mask of indifference tightly to his face.

You may be a slow learner, but you weren’t slow. You could sense that he wasn’t being all that transparent with you.

“I don’t know. Something feels off about you.” You say in an almost accusatory tone, finally sitting up to look him in the eye. He’s pale in the face and his breath becomes raggedy. “Tell me, Ralak.”

You watch as his pupils constrict, leaving nothing but a black dot in an open sea of blue. Within a matter of seconds, they deepen in colour and his eyelids flutter shut. He clears his throat, and waits a few seconds to open his eyes. They’re back to normal but you could’ve sworn they looked different. Just like they did a few nights ago.

“What just happened to your—” Your heart begins to race as you utter the words, only to be cut off by Ralaks hasty voice.

“Inland. Tomorrow morning. Overnight hunting trip.” He grinds them out as if it physically hurts to say the words. Anything to keep you from figuring it out.

What? Is he — lying to you?

This isn’t like him. He avoided trips inland at all costs. Anything to stay with his tanhí. He’d even go as far as faking an illness, despite rarely getting ill, to get out of accompanying Tonowari. Especially for overnight trips.

“And why did you not tell me earlier?” You manage to squeak out a closing throat, backing away to create a little distance.

He shakes his head as he blinks rapidly, staying put to allow as much space as you need. “I was hoping I did not need to go.” He utters, dropping his head to lock his gaze on your twiddling thumbs. His eyes trail up your dark blue frame, taking note of how your body is already almost trembling —already responding to him— all out of your control. He bows his head, hiding his face. “But it seems that I cannot get out of this one. I am sorry, my paysyul.”

For a fleeting moment, you really thought this was the beginning of something bad. Something deceitful. But, his words instantly bring you comfort, slowing your leaping heart and putting your mind at ease.

But the funny thing is that there was no lie.

There was really an overnight trip inland with Tonowari. One that Ralak arranged himself. Tonowari was especially taken aback by Ralaks suggestion of a hunting trip and immediately queried if he was alright, putting a firm hand on his forehead to determine if he had some sort of fever. But once Ralak explained himself, Tonowari was smiling and laughing, smacking a few blows on his back as a form of approval, teasing him yet again about ‘the love story between an Akula and an ilu’.

Your sigh brings Ralak out of his deep thought, chin leaving his chest to witness you sliding back into bed, turning on your side and backing up onto him. A smirk pulls at the his lips as he joins you, enveloping you in his warmth once more. A wave of relief washes over him as he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He’s thankful that you didn’t press any further. Otherwise, he would’ve had to reveal his best kept secret.

His upcoming rut.

——

The harsh thump of Ralaks heart rouses him to the sight of his mate clung to his chest. He admires your beauty, allowing his eyes to fall on your chest, watching closely as you breathe slowly. He gently pulls back the thin sheeting covering your body, exposing your puffy nipples to the cool morning air. When they stiffen into peaks, saliva pools in his mouth. At this point he would have looked away because of basic na’vi decency, but this morning is different.

He allows himself to stare. To take in every detail on your chest. To sear it into his memory so he can visualise you just like this as he relieves himself. Exposed before his eyes, supple skin glistening as the rays of sunlight reflect against your freckles, exposed, stiffened nipples, that act as the perfect bait to lure in a hungry predator.

Predator.

That’s what he’ll be in a matter of minutes. Nothing but a slave to his own urges and instincts. Ravenous. Insatiable. Voracious. With not even a sliver of self composure left to hold onto an ounce of rationality. He can already feel it creeping up on him, the hunger deep in his core turning him into the beast that he appears to be on the outside. It’s always been like this. A little too much. Too overwhelming.

Too aggressive.

And as the years passed it only worsened. Six unmated years. With no one but himself to make it through the tortuous few days. He just knows that he would be too rough with you. It’s his biggest fear, after all. To have no self control. To hurt the one thing he loves more than Eywa’s gift of life itself. He would sacrifice his own (life) if it meant to save yours.

He was hoping to endure it. Bite his tongue through it and be by your side. Perhaps take a long bath in the lake and crawl into bed after you’ve gone to sleep and relieve himself as quietly as he can. But now that it’s here in full bloom, he’s already having a hard time containing his urge to spread your legs and use you as his own personal fucktoy.

But you’re more than that to him.

And this is why he’s choosing to leave before you wake. Before he can no longer contain himself to just staring at your bare chest. Before he pulls the sheet down even further and parts your legs—already trembling from his leaking pheromones—and has a taste of his sweet, sweet tanhí. Rather, he uses his last shred of self composure to plant a firm kiss on your forehead before quickly gathering his gear and heading out the door.

Unbeknownst to him, you were awake the entire time.

You could feel his eyes bore into your tiny frame as the crisp morning air grazed past your nipples, just like you could feel the roughness of his kiss right above your brow. You wanted to open your eyes but the way his pheromones waft up your nose had you in a foggy trance. Your eyes burned under your eyelids and your body felt so heavy and hot.

You couldn’t help but think, is this his rut?

To be influenced by his cycle? You had felt it before. His first rut in the flashback, but it was nothing like this. Sure, it had you shivering and a little on edge but this was to another level. You could barely open your eyes, much less get out of bed. This entire time your body has been sending warning signals that its mate was peaking in his cycle — restlessness, clinginess, the nesting. You had unknowingly gathered enough fruits and grains to last you a few days. Even in this murky state of mind you finally manage to link the pieces of the puzzle together.

Listening to his footsteps as he walks out the marui, you muster up as much strength as you can to open your eyes. It’s blurry and honestly all just one blob. You could only make out a few colours trailing behind this gentle giant—green, blue and orange. All of which mix together and move like the aurora in the night sky. If one could see what a pheromone looks like, this would be it. When you finally get enough strength to part your chapped lips to mutter his name, the colours disappear as the marui flap closes behind him.

You really thought that once he left and the room aired out, that the influence of his pheromones on your body would lift as well. But you were wrong. Instead, the heaviness of your body grew tenfold, making it hard to breathe. It’s as if your lungs were filled to the brim with cold water, yet they burned as you squirmed around to fill them with air. The fire in your lungs quickly spread to your extremities, leaving your entire being in a sweltering inferno.

This feeling is familiar, yet foreign all at once. A desire so extreme it burns from within. The desire to be connected with your mate on all levels known to the na’vi. To satiate the itch of your empty, fertile womb by filling it with his seed.

Why did you have to get your heat now?

You call for Ralak a few times in your dazed state, only for you to be reminded by nothing but the crash of the waves that he’s gone. Soon the heavy rumble of the waves is drowned out by your whimpers and whines as you call for your mate to no avail. All you can manage to do in your feverish haze is kick off whatever cloth is stuck to your body, curl into a ball and rock to ease the unbearable sensation between your legs.

All until you hear a familiar, husky voice.

“I was doing some sessions with Ronal and—”

“R-Ralak?” You call out in relief, hoping your prayers have finally been answered. You roll onto your side and squint at the figure in the door frame.

“Uh. Not quite.” He quickly mutters under his breath, moving his forearm to shield his nose from your strong pheromones wafting his way. “Eywa—” He mumbles the great mothers name like a curse as he looks around the marui for your mate. “Where is Tak?”

Tak?

The more you squint your eyes, the more you’re able to make out who this figure standing in your doorway is. Your blurred vision clears just enough to reveal the unforgettable, brawny features of no other than Ka’ani.

“Ka’ani?” You say the name slowly, unsure if you should believe your eyes.

“Hah. What do you know…” Ka’ani scoffs, moving his arm from his face to lean in to get a better look at your condition. You’re panting yet shivering, glazed in your own sweat and slick. He smirks a little as he pulls back, spitting out the words, “…bitch in heat.”

“What are you... d-doing here? You should leave!” You try to shout, although it comes out more as a hoarse cry.

“Why should I? It looks like you need a hand.” Ka’ani jesters, physically extending his hand towards you as he wiggles his thickset fingers.

“Haa. I really don’t.” You pant, hugging your knees to your chest even tighter.

“You’re sitting in a puddle of your own sweat.” Ka’ani’s voice is harsh, yet laced with concern. “And whatever else is coming out of you.” His jaw clenches and unclenches as he looks away from you, seemingly out of — respect? He catches sight of the full bucket of fresh water at your bedside, along with empty drinking bowls.

Has she not been tended to all day? Not a sip to drink? Ka’ani thinks to himself, concerned as to why Tak’s mate would be alone, uncared for and in heat of all things.

You finally muster up the energy to tug the sodden sheet over your naked body and scoot back further to the frame of the bed. “Ralak said he will be back soon. You should leave if y-you want to live.” You lie, feeling a little threatened that a male na’vi has barged into your marui while you’re in heat.

“Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, y/n. None of this makes sense.” Ka’ani speaks, taking a few steps towards you.

You shuffle even further back only for your back to make contact with the bed frame. A rush of fear surges through you. The type of fear that has your heart twisting behind your ribs. You cross your legs over one another, bunching up the sheet between them and beg with trembling lungs, “P-Please, Ka’ani. Don’t.”

Ka’ani stops dead in his tracks, seemingly offended by your assumption that he’d be approaching you to do something that the great mother herself would look down upon. Sure, he tracked your scent last time, but he was here atone exactly for that.

“Syor [relax]. I would never do such a thing.” He says through gritted teeth, storming towards the bedside and quickly pouring you a drink. “No matter how strong your scent is. Although, you don’t smell all that great now that you’re mated.” He chuckles lightly as he hands you the drink. Your eyes jump between him and the cup in his hand before you struggle to sit up. His hand instinctively reaches out to assist you, but you bat it away and continue to pull yourself up.

“Just — let me help you.” He snaps, supporting your back when you finally give in. “Drink.” He commands, plunking the cup in your hand, taking a step back and crossing his arms.

You gulp down the water greedily, finally quenching your thirst and hoping it will provide some level of relief to your febrile condition. You hum to yourself as the water makes its way down your throat, but groan when you feel no better. Meanwhile, Ka’ani takes in your state, feeling a twinge in his heart for you when he sees how you’ve been suffering. You look more than uncomfortable. You look like you’re in pain.

“You’ll be alright, y/n. Just tell me where he went and I’ll go fetch him.” He speaks in a more gentle tone, taking the empty cup from your hand.

“I-I don’t — haah. He said he went… He went inland to hunt.” You blubber out, feeling your body heat to a dangerous degree. It has you shaking as you ease yourself back into a more comfortable position.

Ka’ani shakes his head a bit, “Inland to hunt? Really? When his mate is in heat? Tak would never. The only time he’d ever do that is if he is also… in rut.” Ka’ani stalls on the last few words that slip off his tongue, tasting them in his mouth as the realization sets in. Ka’ani quickly fills the cup, sets it next to you and bolts to the door. Before he ducks under the flap of your Marui, he looks over his shoulder and reassures you.

“Sit tight, forest girl. I know exactly where he is.”

— —

It’s been a few hours since coming to his usual spot — the waterfall with the coldest water known to the reef people. It is Ralaks most private and intimate place aside from his humble abode. A place where only a select few people know about. He’s most drawn to the low temperature of the water, making it a perfect environment to endure the heat of his rut in.

Despite doing this for the past few years, each cycle gets a little more intense. And this one is certainly no exception.

Ralak sits underneath the overhang, right in the dip of the plunge pool, and allows the water to beat on his back. He’s maintained this position for the past few hours, only releasing himself when the pressure in his core grows too much. A pressure so immense it would have his body acting on its own accord — a wandering hand finding its way to his swollen cock.

Truth be told, he hated the feeling.

He hated feeling so out of control. To be nothing but a slave to his own primal impulses. He’d fight it as much as he could, just like he is now, until the sensation is just too intense to ignore. Until he’s grunting and squirming with a body so heated it has him grinding his teeth.

He quickly stands up, tilting his head back and covering his face from the stream of the water with his hands. At this point his cock is so swollen that it’s outright painful, throbbing and pulsing from the lack of attention. He thinks of you — your thin tail and tiny stature. The way you lay in bed this morning before he left. Naked and exposed before his eyes. Eywa, how he wishes you were here. How he could finally spend his rut with his mate, but he just knows it would be too much for you to handle.

The thoughts of you make this no easier, sending his hips thrusting into the air — the running water stimulating his thudding cockhead. He groans from the immense pleasure a little water brings him. He’s neglected himself so badly to the point that he feels like this could really make him cum. But how many times has he cum by now?

Once? Twice? Thrice?

He lost count after the fifth time, not that he was keeping track anyways. If anything he was downright denying himself the pleasure, and convincing himself that he remained in control. But fuck, the image of your delicate body —the possibility that he could break you if he weren’t careful— pushes him over the edge. Before he can stop himself, his hot cum is spilling from his slit all over the length of his cock and he’s unable to keep his noises at a minimum.

“Mmmph.” His deep growl rumbles, a hand grabbing a firm hold of his jumping cock.

He squeezes what’s left out of his slit, finally looking down to see the state of himself. It’s red and raw — spikes fully erect and balls drawn so close to his body they’re practically hiding behind his thick knot. He lets out a loud sigh.

Relief.

Finally, he leans back against the rocky wall and slides down into the plunge pool, immersing himself chest deep into the water. He lightly treads back to the bank and makes himself comfortable — allowing his head to rest and body to relax. He takes a few deep breaths and tunes into the burble of the waterfall.

All until he hears the click of a —

Ka’ani?

“Tik-Tak.” Ka’ani clicks melodically, cautiously approaching the giant submerged in the waterfall. Ralak doesn’t budge. He remains fixed in position, eyes shut, head and elbows resting on the edge of the river. His chest heaves harshly as he attempts to remain in this less than tranquil state. “Never thought I’d see the day Ralak leaves his mate in heat. To be soaking in a waterfall of all things.”

Perhaps Ralak heard wrong. Leaving his mate in heat? Ralak would know if his mate were in heat. He would sense it. Whatever rubbish he’s spewing out, Ralak doesn’t have the time, nor patience, for it.

“Skxawng, what are you on about? Leave me be.” Ralak huffs, wiping the sweat from his face with a quick hand movement.

“Just as I thought. You’re all hot and bothered too, aren’t you?” Ka’ani chuckles.

“Leave.” Ralak says angrily, his purplish-blue eyes finally snapping up to meet Ka’ani’s. “I have just calmed.”

Ka’ani’s brows knit together, offended and a little confused with himself for being upset from the way Ralak is shooing him away.

“Oh c’mon brother. All I’ve been told today is to leave!” Ka’ani’s hands fly up as he takes a step forward. “First your mate, and now you. Am I really that unwanted?”

Now he’s got Ralaks attention.

Ralak gets a whiff of your sweet, sweet pheromones on him. As if he’s been around his tanhì. Scenting his tanhì. Touching his tanhì. His primal urges devour him once more, eating away at him until nothing but a possessive beast remains. One of pure territorial instinct.

“What did you do?” Ralak growls through a clenched jaw as he jumps out the water and approaches Ka’ani. “Scenting my mate again?” His voice booms as it increases in volume, yet lowers in depth. “Answer me. Did you touch her?!”

“No!” Ka’ani blurts out, now taking a few steps back with his hands splayed out in front of him. “Is that what you both really think of me? This is the last I ever do some—”

Ralak remains silent, taking quick, calculated strides directly towards Ka’ani, who is now backing up into a tree. Once his back hits the scaly bark, Ralaks' balled fist slams into the trunk, barely an inch away from Ka’ani’s skull.

“Alright! Alright. I know what I did before. I-I’m sorry. I came looking for you to apologise for that but I found her in heat. Okay? I came here as soon as I realized.”

Unsure of whether or not to believe a word coming from this skxawng’s mouth, Ralak steps away from his prey, bloody knuckled and full of uncertainty. But the one thing he is certain about is the fact that he wants no other na’vi to find you if you really are in heat. With a huff of defeat, he pushes past Ka’ani and bolts for the shore.

——

The trek back to the marui is twice as quick. Your pheromones are thick and potent, affecting him even a few feet away from the marui door. And when he steps through the marui door, he’s completely inundated with the thick fog of your pheromones. He feels lost in himself, struggling not to succumb to his instincts. Struggling to regain control.

“Ma’ L-Lak?” You mewl shakily.

You can smell him, just like he can smell you. It only drives you further into your heat, your trembling body now shaking a little more. Sensing that your mate is in close proximity, your scent glands release more of your aphrodisiac to lure him in. In turn, this has its effects on your body — sending you into a submissive state where you feel too heavy to even lift a finger. You lay there, legs splayed out and glossy fingered.

You watch through blurred vision as the tall and thick silhouette quickly makes its way towards you. Ralak grabs and firmly holds your legs back as he leans in close, making the confirmation that his mate is indeed in heat. He lingers a little longer than he can control, taking everything in him to pull away and calm down — panting and out of breath.

“It is true.” He huffs, towering over your tiny, shivering frame. “In heat.” The two words drip off his tongue, much like the thick nectar dripping from your slit.

“Lak. Oh — lak. ’ts you.” You cry out in relief, clawing at his thigh to bring him back to you, “‘m so happy it’s you ‘nd not someone else.” His teeth grit as your hand grazes his thigh, but he remains fixed in place, unsure of his ability to keep his composure if he allows himself to give in to your touches.

What is he supposed to do now?

He didn’t think this far into his plan… for once in his life. Typically he’s quite calculated and certain of his next move but now — now he’s not sure how he’s going to deal with this. He just knew that he couldn’t leave you alone. Not for another man to find and claim you in the way that only he should. But he has to remain himself. For you. He swallows down his uncertainty before speaking.

“I should have stayed.” He looks down at the flushed, puffy flesh between your legs with a rapacious glint in his eye. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just p-please. It’s to-o much. T-Too hot. It aches, karyu.” Ralak winces when you groan the last few words, it’s almost painful to resist you at this point. You go to claw at this thigh once more, only for him to shift away. “No, don’t do that. Not right now. N-Need you so ba—”

“My rut came. This morning.” He’s quick to cut you off with a strained, yet monotonous voice, unable to peel his eyes away from your swollen cunt.

“I-I know.” You pant, earning a twitch of Ralaks brows. “‘nd t-that’s good. Ngh—that’s really good, I-I can help you too.” You mumble, sticking your hand between your legs to fondle with yourself. With the way he grimaces one side of his face, it seems as if he wants to look away, but can’t.

“No, tanhì. We spoke of this.” His accent is thick as he struggles to string the words together, “No control. Trying hard…” he inhales quickly, eyes plastered to the sight in front of him, “…not to lose it.”

At this point the haze of your heat has you lethargically shaking your head from side to side, mumbling whatever frustrated-fueled words that first come to you “…haven’t cum yet…”, you squirm around to find a position that allows your wandering fingers better access to your hole, “…need to cum.” You slur the words as you barely slip two fingers inside you and you quietly sob when they provide very little release.

“Ralak!” You cry loudly enough to at last lure his gaze up to yours, the night sea finally meeting the roaring flame. Your voice quiets down into a soft whimper, “Please. Just t-try. Please.”

A moment of silence passes where you and Ralak stare at one another, hearts pounding and chests heaving, understanding exactly how the other feels. The burning desire to come together. The resistance, yet the lack of control. The eternal flame within. The heat.

Ralak breaks eye contact to glance at your slender fingers working as hard as they can. He breathes a heavy sigh, feeling a pang of guilt for leaving you when he sees just how raw you are from being in heat all alone. He’s responsible for you even being in this bad of a state, isn’t he? Leaving you before sunrise with nothing but a kiss on the head. If anything that only made it more intense for you. He wants to — no, needs to care for you. It’s what every part of himself is urging him to do.

“The thought of another finding you… like this.” Ralak rasps as he closes in on you, “so vulnerable… it makes me — haah.” He cuts himself off with a shaky sigh and a clench to his jaw. Beads of sweat ball on his temples, slowly rolling down his angular jaw to eventually meet and drip from his chin onto your stomach. He looms over you, his hair flowing forward when he suddenly grabs and tugs at your wrist in one swift move, yanking your fingers out of you.

“Ss-ah!” You hiss with a wince, heart skipping a beat when you realise that he’s barely there anymore. “I-It makes you, what?” You ask quietly — nervously, even.

A bestial growl begins to rumble in his chest, causing a shiver to ripple through you—hardening your nipples into peaks within seconds. Jawbone fluttering from his reluctance to answer, he harshly cups your pussy with his hand, causing you to gasp. His sharp, intimidating stare locks with yours, brows tensing as he allows two, thickset fingers to slip down to your slickened opening. His growl fades into a single, drawn out word.

“Nìfmokx. [jealous]”

His admission slips past his lips just as his fingers sink into your aching core, leaving your mouth agape and hot tears spilling over your cheeks. Jealousy isn’t an emotion Ralak is used to feeling. Much less something he would subject you to experience with him. But you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, as they flicker from a dark blue to something even deeper. It’s the way his stare bores into your innermost being as he fills you up with his digits alone, telling you that you were his, and his only.

He hooks his fingers right into your gummy walls, holding his position as he moves his hand in an up and down motion at full tilt. The tips of his fingers repeatedly slam into your swelling sweet spot, coaxing out broken, filthy noises from your throat. He hums with pride, yet his face remains stone cold, minus the occasional twitch of his jawbone. He’s trying so hard to keep at a steady pace, and not to be too rough with your fragility.

“Oh f-fuck.” You curse under your breath, both hands grabbing a firm hold of his forearm. You’ve been unintentionally edging yourself all day that you’re already almost there. And no matter how hard you squeeze and claw at his now-veiny arm, he remains unmoving.

“Go on, then.” He huffs impatiently as he looks down at you, feeling your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your heels sink into the bed when you push your hips into the air, fingernails digging into his skin as you near your first release. You begin to whimper, bucking your hips to chase the feeling of relief. It’s right there. It’s so close; and you just need to allow it to wash through you. You tense up so badly your whole body shakes, sending your teeth chattering and your bottom lip quivering. You swear you can see the stars from the night sky litter your vision and feel your heavy lids flutter shut.

“Look at me.” Ralak demands in a sharp, gruff tone. Your glossy eyes shoot back up to his, and you start to sputter out whatever gibberish comes from your mouth — a few curses mixed with his name and your fathers’ mother-tongue. He continues to glare down at you with a rigid face, tensing his jaw as he wills himself to be gentle and patient with you. “Good. Now cum, little one.”

Your pathetic noises suddenly fade into a sweet, little cry. A cry of relief when your frustration washes away as you finally come undone on his fingers. The alleviation is so intense that it’s almost consuming; “T-Thank—” you collapse back down onto the bed, “—you. Thank you—haah, thank you karyu.” You pant repeatedly, his forearm ripping from your grip when he unexpectedly wrenches his fingers out of you. You squirm from the sudden emptiness, “Wait—”

“Do not thank.” He spits the accented words as he stumbles back to create some distance between the two of you. He pants as he attempts to recollect himself, his face of stone finally screwing into something of a grimace. “So…if another na’vi found you, would you thank him too? Hm?”

“Lak. I… N-No.” You stutter, unsure of what to even say.

“You are mine. My mate…” he growls through thinned lips, “My duty. Understand?”

“Yes.” You nod quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up. It arouses you to see him so jealous. So possessive. So assertive.

Ralak slams his eyes shut and gulps so hard it’s audible —visible even. You could see the bump in the column of his throat quickly undulate, his chest heaving harshly and his shoulders dramatically rising and falling with each breath he struggles to take. And for a while, there’s nothing but silence and his heavy breathing that you feel the overwhelming need to break it.

“Ralak.”

Your trembling, tiny voice snapping his head back up to you, once tightly closed eyes now flying open to reveal the most beautiful shade of mauve. They pierce into you like a spear through an unsuspecting prey, full of nothing but pure, unadulterated greed.

You never thought you’d see them again except in that vision. You get lost in them for a little, studying how the gold ring around his blown pupils still remains even in a sea of indigo.

You sense that he’s in the thick of his rut now and you need to relieve him soon, like he did for you. Or only Eywa knows what will happen. You allow yourself to finally take in the man before you in full, eyes trailing down his sweaty, muscular physique — perfectly carved v-lines and six fingered tattoo — until they land on his aching cock.

Oh, fuck. Is he bigger? You think, admiring his mushroomy head and erect spikes. It’s oozing and dripping, unable to keep still from how hard it’s pulsing. It’s at least an inch bigger than usual.

You look away to study his facial expression and by the way he’s looking at you, you can tell he’s waiting for your command, trying his hardest to prevent himself from pouncing on you and fucking you senseless right here and now. You’ve never seen him this way before. Straining so hard to keep himself in one position and struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“Ralak… More.” You spread your legs as wide as they can go, holding them apart by the bend of your knees, exposing yourself completely. His heavy lidded eyes widen almost as much as your legs, pointed ears flicking upwards in excitement when he sees you assume such a vulnerable and submissive position.

“Y/n.” He groans, voice thick with arousal and want and maybe a little desperation as he takes in the sweet sight of your still-pulsing and swollen clit poking out between your folds. “I am… losing control.”

Hearing your name fall from his lips in this way — this tone, instantaneously reignites the flame in your core. In seconds your slit is practically dripping, forming a pool of your slick underneath you. “Good.” You pant as you stare up into his slit-like pupils. You swallow quickly before mustering up the courage to invite the beast in. “Now…remind me who I belong to.”

How could he resist now?

With the way you’re talking and your pheromones so pungent that they fill his lungs to the brim with no space for any other option but to fall into the thick of his rut. Before you can formulate another thought in your foggy state, Ralak has your legs pinned back and is diving nose first into your cunt.

He wastes no time to have his fill of you, lapping up your juices so desperately your body moves from the force of his licks. He has been wanting to taste you ever since you made a mess on his fingers, fuck — ever since he got a whiff of your scent from outside his marui door, but denied himself the pleasure in the case he couldn’t stop himself from going any further. But now, all restraint and denial is now left out at that very door.

The flat of his tongue trails up your inner thigh and then back to your folds, tasting a mixture of the sweetness of your slick and the saltiness of your sweat. He groans when his tongue finally grazes past your clit, feeling it throb against his taste buds. He lingers there for a while, swirling and sucking on you until he unlatches to come up for a quick breath of air.

“Fucking ftxìlor [delicious].” He gasps out a curse, shoving your legs even further back to have seconds of his meal.

It becomes evident that he’s doing this for himself. Because if he were doing this solely for you, he would have made you cum by now. He’s eating you out as if he’s been starved for weeks, sucking and popping off your clit just to lap up the sweet, sticky nectar seeping from your hole just to coat his tongue.

He’s nowhere near as quiet as he usually is, grunting and groaning as he swallows your juices. His fingernails dig into your thighs as he tries to keep himself from being too rough with your tiny, dainty body. But, his attempts prove to be futile once you feel your hips lift off the ground from his grip tightening around your thighs. You stare at the sight of your mate between your legs, crinkling his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut as he can’t stop himself from indulging in his urges.

“Fuck me!” You let out a frustrated moan, your heat having you so on edge you need to cum again.

His eyes fly open, and within moments he’s tucked under your hips, pelvises flush together as he rests his throbbing, neglected cock between your folds. His tip touches your belly button with ease, beads of precum oozing out of his slit one after the next.

“This is what you want, yes?” He bucks his hips into you, the tip of his cock smearing his slick all over your deep blue skin.

“Fuck, yes.” You whisper shakily, chin meeting your chest to look at the masterpiece he’s painting on you. “I want my mates cock.”

He only responds with a rough growl, flipping you over and pushing you onto your stomach.

“Oh shit.” You mutter under your breath, a little afraid of what you’ve gotten yourself into. But you trust Ralak.

You know that even in rut he would never hurt you. Not intentionally, at least. Of course this is not to say that he would be gentle —you expect that anything but.

With a firm hand to your upper back, his body is pressed against yours and his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He breathes in deeply through his nose, holding it in his lungs, and then letting out a hot, shaky breath against your skin, finally allowing himself to really take in your scent.

He almost becomes drunk off it— at least it feels that way for him. Your scent has him feeling like he’s downed two full bottles of fermented fruit with no chasers in between and he simply can’t get enough of it.

Hand moving swiftly from your back to your head, he pins your face to the bed as he trails his tongue along your jawbone to the nape of your neck. He lingers a little longer than he can help, suckling on and grazing his pointed canines against the skin. It sends shivers down your spine until your tail curls into the air and back arches in complete submission. You push back into him, feeling his hardened length pressed between the swell of your ass and base of your tail.

Fuck, you just want it inside you already.

“Lifting your tail for me, hm?” He huffs, puckering his lips against your skin and suckling tenderly. You can feel the emptiness creep back in, and that maddening itch deep in your womb. You moan softly, like a low hum under your breath, which only riles him up more. He feels like he wants to make you his all over again.

To mate with you.

To mark you as his in every way so that no other man would even dare look your way. Without warning, Ralak pushes up off you, his sinewy arms caging you in with one hand binding your wrists and the other keeping your head pinned to the bed. His legs hold yours down, his knees locking your ankles in place.

“You belong to me.” He growls next to your ear, his hand abruptly leaving your head to reach for the base of his skull for his kuru. With a quick tug, he brings it over his shoulder and pops it into his mouth to hold with his teeth. He reaches for your kuru that lies innocently in the dip of your back, and brings it towards his mouth.

A wave of anxiety washes over you when the image of Ka’ani finding you earlier in your own mess flashes before you. You can’t help but wonder if he would see that if he made tsaheylu right now. Imagine how he’d react when he realizes Ka’ani saw you naked and covered in slick? Your body squirmed at the mere thought, only making Ralak tighten his grip on you.

“Wait!” Is all you could blubber out before you feel the connection —the bond. Your eyes bulge when you feel him surge through you, two minds becoming one. It takes you by surprise, he’s never one to hastily or unexpectedly make tsaheylu with you. But tonight he makes the bond as if you were a tsurak to be tamed.

What he sees next drives him further into his territorial urges — your interaction with Ka’ani. The way Ka’ani barged into his home. How he saw your naked, vulnerable body. The fear that you felt when another man invaded your space. When he helped you. Innocently touched you.

“He touched you.” He says between pants, a mixture of emotions washing over him all at once. But the sharp pang of your heat transferring through tsaheylu has him entirely succumbing to his own urges and carnal instincts.

He’s simply not there.

His hips start bucking uncontrollably and his cock is poking and prodding at your puffy folds. The crown of his cock jabs at your clit a few times before finally parting your folds and with a quick snap of his hips he’s probing your entrance.

It stings when his swollen cockhead breaks past the resistance of your tightness, and he can’t help but lay hold of your hip and hiss from how tiny you feel. This is the first he’s ever had his cock stuffed inside a pussy during his rut. The feeling is all-consuming and he unapologetically yearns for more.

Hips snapping back, he pops his cockhead out of you only to shove it back in again. And again. And again until he’s repeatedly using your tight, little hole as nothing more than a fucktoy for his own self pleasure.

He leans back to take in the hazy sight, admiring the way your hole stretches perfectly to accommodate the sheer thickness of his cock. And when he sees the mushroomy part of his head slowly emerge he can’t help the way his hips stutter just to sink it back inside you.

It’s torturous, not having all of him inside you when that’s what your body is pining for most. He’s so much bigger than normal and you know that this is an itch that only he can scratch. “God—” You whine the foreign word, “—just fuck me already!”

“Agh. Quiet.” He lets out an irritated grunt, both hands flying to your hips to shove you down onto his cock — a loud, audible smack permeating the air when your sticky pelvises collide.

It almost overpowers the hoarse yet piercing cry that escapes your quivering lips. You’re so tender that the sudden stretch is too intense and with no time to adjust to his size you find yourself shuddering like you did after he took your innocence —your virginity.

His head dips back in ecstasy just when his tip kisses your cervix, his eyes screwed shut as he tries not to spray his seed inside your womb right now. His fingers sink into your skin, surely leaving bruises behind that will last for weeks.

“Hngh — woman.” He groans longingly, dropping his head forward and opening his ineberated eyes to witness how your cunt is sucking in every single inch of his cock with glee.

He grinds himself inside you, tugging at your hips and pushing against the resistance as if he were trying to stuff more of his cock inside you. Your high-pitched shrill fades out into a pathetic little whimper, your wobbly elbows and knees struggling to keep you up.

It’s all too much and your fucked out mind goes blank. You can’t even process how your body is submitting to its owner and his rough touches, opening itself up to be bred already. You sense what’s coming next. Your back bows, elbows and knees burying into the softness of the bed as you try to ground yourself for Ralak to use you for his own relief.

He does exactly that— hunching over you and shuffling his knees closer so he can gain more leverage to fuck into your slippery cunt. He puts all his weight on you, his fingernails almost piercing your skin when he begins rutting into you like his life depends on it.

He sets a merciless pace right off the bat, pounding into you as if he were angry with you. He huffs and puffs from trying to catch his breath but fails because he can’t stop himself from humping at you. His body won’t let him, not until he’s ensured you're full with his seed and will bear his child.

Hands quickly leaving your hips, he grabs your wrists, binding them together once more and the other grips your kuru and yanks it back. Your neck is exposed and your mouth hangs agape as you’re given no other choice but to take the jackhammering of your life. He’s never fucked you so hard or fast and perhaps it’s the haze of your heat but you just want more of him.

“F-Fuck. FuckFuckFuckmeFuckme— yes!” You beg deliriously, pushing yourself back onto him. You can feel the way his cock is bulging from your lower stomach, but you couldn’t care less because you just want it even deeper inside you. Fuck, it hurts even but it feels so good that you can’t stop begging for more. “Deeper — oh, yesyesyes!”

Ralaks groans become drawn out and he’s burying his hot face into the crook of your neck as his pulsing tip bullies its way past your cervix. It’s like white hot pleasure surging through your entire being and it has you so lightheaded you may actually pass out before he’s finished with you.

His cock heats up inside your cunt, becoming so veiny you could practically feel each vein press against your gummy, slimy walls. He’s now panting open mouthed against your throat, his tongue darting out to lick your skin. He shoves your head down so he can access the back of your neck—a hot spot for your pheromones— and grazes his canines against you. Every fiber of his being is urging him to sink them into your skin and see if you taste as good as you smell. His fangs throb in his mouth at the mere thought, his hot saliva dripping off their length and down your neck.

You’re so overwhelmed and overstimulated that you can’t form a coherent thought much less process the fact that you’re quickly nearing your climax. It’s as if you’ve surrendered all control over your body to him and he’s dictating what happens next. Your pussy walls tighten around him so much it aches and he outright whimpers.

“Sst-ah.” He pulls away from your neck and slams his eyes shut, grimacing from the way your cunt is gripping his cock. At this point you’re so on edge that you’re just pinching him, locking him inside you and almost cutting off his blood supply. It’s more than painful for him, and he becomes peeved that you won’t ease up.

Irritated, he aggressively slams himself into you so that you stop with your pathetic little pinching, but all that does is tip you over the edge. Next thing you know your cunt is helplessly fluttering around his cock and your pussy juices are trickling down your thighs.

“Mmm-fuck I’m cumming!” You moan the words so quickly they jumble together, “Cu-cumming! Cumming!”

You throbbing around him has his eyes rolling into the back of his head but the more your body convulses underneath him the more he grows frustrated with you. How could such a little thing put on such a big performance? Why won’t you just stay still?

So he thrusts. And thrusts. And thrusts.

Taming you in the only way his body knows how. Fucking into you without mercy or sympathy. He lets out a hiss, the first he’s ever directed your way, and tightens his grip. “Keep…” He pulls out of you until only the tip is left inside, “...still.” Ralak’s deep voice rumbles next to your ear as he slams every inch cock into your cunt, the mere force of his thrust almost knocking you onto your stomach. You let out a broken whimper, coming down from your high and already feeling the coil in your stomach wind and heat up again.

“Haa—‘nna…make you swell.” He groans the fragmented sentence like a dying man, grinding so deeply inside you that his swollen balls rub against your puffed up clit. Your bruised cervix feels so good against his cock as he uses it to massage the most sensitive part of his tip.

Experiencing nothing but absolute rapture, Ralaks head slumps into the crook of your neck, where he’s flooded by your scent. He only grinds harder. And harder, until he’s panting like a viperwolf against your skin.

“Fuck — please…” You beg through a shaky whisper, trying to free your hands from his undying grip, “I j-ust c-came.”

He’s just so fucking big and deep that he’s touching parts of you that have never touched before, and he’s only getting more aggressive the more you push away his advances. Right now, you’re just a squirming, noisy bitch in heat that needs to be put in her place. To surrender and submit. And the pheromones wafting up his nostrils only drive him further into his bestial urges to claim you as his.

His teeth and gums throb in his mouth once more when the urge to mark you as his becomes indubitable. Much like the urge to keep you still enough to make you into a vessel for his seed. He indulges himself, yanking your head back to expose the bend of your shoulder. He hovers open mouthed over your flawless skin and gives you a kitten lick before ruthlessly marking you.

Your eyes bulge and pupils constrict into nothing but dots when you feel his lengthy fangs plunge into your flesh. The wail evading your throat is deafening and only gets higher when you feel your shoulder set ablaze. His jaw locks into place and he holds you still as he incessantly claims you as his in more ways than just marking. Your eyes start to water and your body stiffens when you feel it.

He’s bulging inside you.

Stretching you out until your shoulder isn’t the only part of you on fire. You lash around, clawing at whatever’s in your way until your nails are dull but the more you move the more it burns. “Y-You’re getting bigger inside me!” You release a high pitched squeal, your elbows and knees finally collapsing under you. Now all his weight is on top of you, pinning you flat to the bed with nowhere for you to go. He begins groaning low and deep, drawing it out until it turns into a depraved growl. It feels as if he’s swelling inside you, as if he were doubling in size. As if he were — oh fuck.

“You’re — you’re knotting me, lak!” You yell when you come to the realisation. It feels like there’s two of him inside you, stretching you to unfathomable lengths. Despite your continuous attempts to get him to let up, he continues to bulge inside you. “You’re knotting me.” You repeat the words in a weakened, croaky voice of defeat, finally giving in and accepting your fate.

Riding out his high, his hips stutter out of his control — a familiar sensation now flooding your core. A rush of warmth inside you. It’s his hot seed pumping inside you, his cock thumping with each spurt. He groans and moans until you’re so overloaded with his cum it begins to drip down your thighs and mix with yours.

He unlatches from your shoulder, lapping at the wound to prevent it from bleeding too badly. He plants a few rough kisses on the double crescent shaped mark and works them up to the lobe of your ear. He’s panting and sweating and he can feel the fog lifting now that he’s had his release. “‘m sorry.” He mumbles between wet kisses, now trailing them back down to the fresh wound to lap at it some more. “‘m sorry.”

“Ralak, I-I” You stutter, overloaded with all these new sensations. It’s burning worse than a hellfire wasp sting but at the same time it’s everything your body hungers for. “Haah.. it-it hurts” You whimper quietly, looking behind you to see the most inebriated eyes you’ve ever seen on this man’s face stare back at you. He releases his pheromones to help your body calm down and feel less pain, ultimately scenting you all together.

“Mawey.” Ralak huffs, trying his hardest to stay still now that he’s quickly coming to the realisation that he’s knotted and marked you in one go. “Doing… so well, tahnì.” He tries to praise you but truthfully he’s still in and out of it, dazing off when he feels the occasional throb of your walls.

“Am I? Am I helping you too, lak?” You ask in a surprisingly optimistic tone, proud that you were able to do what you were told was unmanageable. He musters out a nod, grunting as he finishes emptying himself in your womb.

Feeling some level of sense and rationality, you ask him a question that’s been on your mind. “I’m going to get pregnant, aren’t I?”

“Mm.” He hums, nodding his head as he nuzzles himself into the dip of your shoulder, inhaling your seeping scent.

“Is that what you w-want?” Your breath hitches as you flinch from his cheek resting on your shoulder.

“Mm.” Another grunt, followed by an unexpected, fervid thrust — his body answering your question on his behalf by ensuring every last drop of his essence is inside your fertile womb.

You focus on steadying your breathing now that you’ve gotten your answer.

“Irayo, muntxate [thank you, wife].” He says weakly, finally rolling you both onto your sides for some much needed rest. You chuckle. A weak one, but a chuckle nonetheless, and repeat his own words back to him.

“Do not thank.” You say with a smile, getting yourself as comfortable as you can for the long night ahead.

——

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gatorbites-imagines · 2 months ago

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Kinktober day 11

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader + outdoors/public

How are yall spending your weekend? Im gonna spend it doing absolutely nothing, i hope. This kinda goes along with the vader prompt from last year, which you can read here. But it can still be read as a stand-alone, i think?

this has some dom/sub vibes between the reader and Vader, that just came as i wrote this. enjoy.

2024 kinktober masterlist

Being Darth Vader’s imperial officer came with its benefits and drawbacks. Being so clearly marked as Vader’s, in a special uniform that fit his colour scheme awoke fear in those around you, and garnered you much respect. It also meant you didn’t have to fear your superior in the same way, especially after you had started frequenting his quarters so he could “make sure your uniform was up to code”.

Most times it ended with you on your knees with him in your mouth, but on days where his pains were at the worst, Lord Vader simply used the force to have his way with you instead. You couldn’t see his face, and there was little chance you ever would, but you had a feeling he was smiling. At least a little, as you writhed and gasped on the cold metal floors of his chambers, as he played you like the little tool you were to him.

Sith did not love, it was not in their nature. But Vader could admit he was at least… fond of you. it was not in the same way he felt about Padme, no one could be Padme. But you were different in your own way. You didn’t fear him the same way as everyone else. You did fear him, everyone did, but it had a layer of respect in it that he hadn’t felt since he was Anakin Skywalker.

Your loud dreams about both Vader and Skywalker also helped with that, as Vader worked to slowly push the thoughts of Anakin out and replace them with only himself. It did feel nice to sometimes take the form of Anakin in your dreams, just so you could fuck him for once, since that wasn’t possible after he became more machine than man.

But being Vader’s own personal imperial officer, his “pet” as some whispered around the ship or death star, also came with the benefit that nobody dared question you. Or rather, nobody dared question Lord Vader. Which was why nobody questioned your position at his feet as he stood, staring out into hyperspace.

The few working around the bridge dared barely look in your direction, most fearing the powers of the force. Most knew little about the force, only that it was a power that made a being able to do things that should only be possible by gods. And the empire had made sure to scrub away what little knowledge there was. This resulted in most thinking that Vader always knew what they were thinking. He could, if he wanted too, and did most days. But with you at his feet there were more interesting things to focus on.

You had been ordered to stay quiet as you rubbed against his boot, feeling the unforgiving nature of his metal limbs against where you were most sensitive. Your uniform was pristine as always, not even allowed to have a single stitching out of place. That would be insulting to your lord you know, to walk around in such a special uniform and look dirty or disorganized.

But it was so hard to keep your face blank and your voice silent as you felt the force tighten around your base again, putting a stop to the orgasm that had been bubbling for what must have been the tenth time. At least, you thought so, maybe you had lost track.

The whine that was bubbling up in your throat was cut up with a familiar pressure, the minimal creak of Vader’s gloved hand telling you that he was using the force to quiet you. He had never choked you to near death, but he liked to remind you that he could. Vader could do anything to you, and at this point, after serving him for so long, you had a feeling you would let him.

As if he could sense your thoughts, which he most likely could, the squeezing around your throat and shaft lessened. It was still there, like an ever-constant reminder that he could snap your neck if he so wanted, but it only served to make your blood rush faster.

It was a little messy that your body had learned to become aroused by his threats, or perhaps promises, that he could kill you if he so pleased. About Vader’s absolute power over you, and anyone under his rule. The emperor may be the one at the top, but to you, Vader was the greatest.

The minimal hitch in his rhythmic breath made you shudder. He had liked those thoughts. It was only your amount of experience that you knew that, having had to learn what every minimal hitch of breath, curl of a finger, or turn of his helmet covered head meant. But it felt so rewarding now, to be the only one able to pick such things up.

There was a press against your prostate, an invisible force that you now knew was the force. Lord Vader had clearly been pleased with your opinion of him, rewarding you by rubbing that one place inside you that you didn’t touch yourself anymore, after Vader had ordered you not too.

It made a shuddering soft gasp leave you, causing an immediate flash of shame and panic to fill your chest. Lord Vader had told you to be quiet, and yet you had gasped, loud enough for those sitting by the panels closest dared peak over, before immediately looking away in fear once more.

You could feel tears gather in your eyes. You must have disappointed Lord Vader so much, you couldn’t even follow a simple order. The thought of his punishments made you want to grovel for forgiveness. Vader didn’t punish you in ways he punished others, there was no fear of death, but feeling him torture your prostate or cock from the other side of the ship, sometimes made you wish it was death.

For Vader didn’t do punishments lightly, small things like uniform irregularities had you edged till you sobbed. Or when he wasn’t in incredible pain, Vader found it fun to put you over his knee, letting his heavy metal hand spank you. Feeling his ungloved hand honestly always felt hotter than seeing his cock, like you were feeling and witnessing so far beyond your league that you could never dare try to put it into words.

But instead of punishing you, Vader’s hand slowly raised and placed itself on the top of your head, knocking your hat to the floor with a soft noise. In the quiet room it felt loud, loud enough to make some of the other worker’s flinch. Lord Vader didn’t need to speak, his one action was enough for you to sigh in relief. He was feeling forgiving today, he wouldn’t punish you for your small mishap. For now, at least.

You could hear his voice in your head, making you almost jolt. It was strange to get used too, to hear him through your mind and not your ears, but you understood it. Lord Vader couldn’t be caught speaking to anybody he didn’t need to speak too, so it always felt more intimate when he spoke to you this way. When he praised you or scolded you, like the pet you were.

His rumbled deep words had your neck straightening, as you moved your hips more insistently against his boots. You knew you would have to shine them later, most likely with your tongue, but that was fine too, you didn’t mind. Instead, you struggled to keep yourself quiet as Vader used the force to stimulate you further, almost cruelly forcing you over the edge as you gripped his leg, shaking all over as you were finally allowed to finish.

The heavy gloved hand on top of your head was all the comfort you got, at least in the eyes of the others there. Nobody could see how the force slowly rubbed your limbs and ran across your brain like a comforting cold cloth. Times like these reminded you that Lord Vader could be kind, in his own way at least, and to you.

It made it easier to pick up your hat again and rise to your feet, acting like nothing was happening as a small twitch of Vader’s hand had the creases in your uniform smoothing out. You could see the nearby workers blushing as you put your hat back on and took your dutiful spot behind Vader. Never beside him, and never in front of him, but behind him like the loyal pet that they all whispered you were.

And maybe you were a pet, all Vader had to do was tell you to bark. And bark you would, until your throat was raw, and your lungs collapsed. Because Vader was all you had, and something told you, that you were all he had in return.

#male reader #anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars #star wars original trilogy #star wars prequels #anakin skywalker x male reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker headcanon #darth vader x male reader #darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader headcanon #star wars imagine #star wars headcanon #star wars x male reader #star wars x reader #ive missed vader so much omg

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kanmom51 · 4 months ago

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Jikook car drive to CT

I think that before I dive into the actual car ride I have to set a few things straight.

Did you guys notice they chose to ride together? Shock and awe...

Lmao.

Just a little stab for all those who were nitpicking at them back in 2021-23. Yeah, you's that were all about "but they don't ride in the same car anymore", or "they aren't addressing each other or reacting to each other on SM", or whatever other kind of insecurity for some or just outright malice from others.

JM and JK are the same JM and JK they were before the hiatus and solo paths. Same same. With adjustments having to be made to a new reality of not spending close to 24/7 together. Adjusting to their crazy busy solo work and schedules. Adjusting to learning how to be alone when you are used to not being, because your significant other is submerged in his work while you are not. With adjustments to not having ot7 as their protecting glass closet. When you are used to being together close to 24/7 and circumstances change and you can't anymore, as a couple you need to adjust to that new reality and sometimes it's harder on one of you than the other. Not because you don't love each other or need each other equally, but because you are different people and adjust differently to this new reality.

And in the reality of these 2 young men, well it has been apparent since the beginning of 2023 that JK was the one that was struggling most with these changes. I'd say that this is can be a huge clue to his neurodivergence.

When we look at these two young men, whom I believe to be 2 queer young men in a long term loving relationship, not only do we need to look at them within the context of them being in one of the biggest if not THE biggest band in the world right now, living in a still mostly homophobic society and at the time were looking at enlisting for their 18 month military service, a military that still outlaws sexual relations between men.

This has to be understood while looking at Jikook throughout the years and in 2021-2023, things changing after creation of Hybe, going public, trying to buy out SM and the whole saga with MHJ (which was going on since Oct 2022 behind the scenes).

That's a good starting point understanding them in 2023 and going into watching Are you sure?

But that's not all.

There's more.

Seeing some of the reactions, comments, posts I feel the need to say this as well:

JM and JK are human beings.

They aren't characters in a drama.

This isn't The Bold and the Beautiful, JK not Ridge and JM not Brooke or vise versa (seriously, just picked the parallels because of the current hair colours). They weren't married and divorced ending up with others and then married again and divorced and with others and just going on and on and on. Ups and downs, ins and outs, together and parted. This is real life, not a TV show. Not only would their love not last that (and they clearly love each other), their interactions, their dynamics wouldn't just stay the same same. Not to mention what it would have done to the band and their own relationships with the others. They wouldn't survive it nor would the band. So don't create drama where there isn't is what I say.

What I see is a pretty much levelled long term couple. With relationship bumps in the road, adjustments, frustrations, moods.

I also see 2 queer young men who due to the reality of 2023 have close to zero camera time in one frame. And it shows.

But mainly I see LOTS AND LOTS OF LOVE FOR EACH OTHER.

On top of that I see both of them feeling physically unwell. Poor JM with his stomach issues and bursting pipe (yes I just said that, lol), and JK who has been ill for days, had to go to the hospital for treatment before his solo debut performance, for that performance to be fucked up by the weather. Man was definitley still unwell the whole time constantly sniffling and coughing. And JM worrying about JK's health is another indicator as to it not being nothing.

Bottom line: these are real life people with their own different characteristics, feelings, stress, anxiety, illnesses and the runs.

Not that they didn't know there will be cameras, they were well aware of it, but looks like JM was initially a little shocked to see just how many of them.

Even with the cameras and initial apparent awkwardness, not with each other, but with the whole "it's just the two of us on camera together, no other members to buffer", they are at ease with each other, smiling and giggling.

And even with the cameras and that on one hand need to say things but on the other need to still be wary of what you say and not to say too much - something they are expert at, even if it's been a while and takes them a bit to get back on the wagon with. Even with that they go back to that very jikooky type of formal - informal interaction with each other, JK 'forgetting' JM is the hyung out of the two (like I said, same same).

We have JM's cheeky comment about spooning JK if he's cold, one he insisted on implementing that same night. Mics on, cameras obviously on, but us not allowed to see a thing (and I will talk about this in another post - the whole "if there's nothing to hide how come we didn't get to see one of the apparently funniest moments of the trip, one that the the two and those around them couldn't shut up about?" (phew, that was a long question).

We also get a cute JM looking out for JK's health turning on the heat in the car, turning on his seat heater (without JK knowing about it, lol).

As a whole, those two in the car sounded like an old married couple. I was watching laughing the whole time, the whole thing feeling too familiar, lol.

But I know what you are all waiting for.

More so those that love to question their relationship.

Let's get on and discuss the car convo some are stressing over.

This:

tumblr

But wait.

Before I talk about it, there's one more word I want to mention.

CONTEXT.

Context is EVERYTHING.

We all know that, right?

And what is the important context here?

Well, first of, this is all in front of the cameras.

Secondly, we ALL KNOW that even with their crazy schedules JM and JK DID GET TO SEE EACH OTHER in those months counting up to this trip, in private, just the two of them.

We know from them that they were together drinking the night before Hobi's enlistment, for example. We know JM was at JK's before JM left for London end of May, JK 'complaining' about having to change the way JM adjusted the mood lamp. We know they are the closest duo in the group, but beyond that, those two are just super close. We know that JK went live basically every time JM left for overseas and was overjoyed when JM showed up in his comments (including his comments during the mukbang live and perhaps coming over after he finished his schedule). This is before this trip. Let's not mention (or maybe let's) the flirt-fest we got in the JK in bed live that came shortly after this trip.

One other huge thing we seem to forget is that:

This is an edited product we are seeing.

Not a live discussion.

And even if it looks like the conversation is somewhat flowing, when you look really closely you see that there are cuts cuts cuts. Some might just be change of camera angle, others are real cuts where you can see that whatever was said was not said at the same time as a flowing conversation.

So, if you look carefully you will see that the first part of the discussion and the part where JM brings up V are not exactly in one flow. That there is a cut between what JK says, and we will get to that, don't fret, and when JM brings up him facetiming with V and what follows.

The start of it is also not clear. If what JM says about not going somewhere together in a while is the start of the flow of conversation, then the clip they are showing us of them in the car driving in the streets of NY is not connected to that, because the conversation continues when they are already out of town. 2 possibilities here. Either that was the start of the convo and for some reason they decided to show the car driving in NY even though the convo happened with them out of the city already. Or, once again, my point that maybe the convo isn't in one flow - even that first part of it. That JM did say what he said when they were still in the city and then their conversation following was edited in a way that we didn't get much of it until they were already out of the city and JK says what he says.

Reason I bring this up is again to emphasize the fact that as much as we are let in, we are still getting an edited product.

You know, same edited product that cuts out their flirty playful bedtime toothbrushing session.

I also want to bring this up, because I basically agree with much of what @shellbells-things the importance of them needing that getaway together (in this post):

This was written with the official translations in mind.

But you see, this is not what JK said.

The actual translation is basically JK calling out JM for not seeking him out enough!!!

And we also have this from @haedalkoo (thanks you for this post💜):

And why does it matter? Why do these different translations matter? Because they tell us a totally different story.

In the first you have JK saying that when one of them is busy, even though the other is not, he does not tend to call/reach out to the one that is busy. Basically this could be read as them not making an effort to contact the other even when they had time on their hands to do so. And perhaps that is why there are people up in arms about this, although my take of it is that even if this was the correct translation, which it is not, that understanding, that conclusion, would have been a very superficial one, disregarding the context of those two, who they are, where they are and what they are doing, as mentioned above.

In the other, what seems to be the more accurate translation, we have a salty boyfriend complaining about his partner not reaching out to him when he's busy, but also not reaching out to him when JK is busy, even if JM is not as busy.

"Your busy you don't seek me out, your not busy you don't seek me out"...

Now let's look at what JK said within the context of it all.

This isn't about them not seeing each other, not being in touch at all. Being estranged. Losing contact. Like so many want it to be about, given that would be so much more dramatic and 'interesting'.

This is about it not being enough for JK.

Enough being the key word.

JM and JK are different. They are both highly driven, and when JK has a JM by his side, said JM is a catalyst and has JK as driven as him. But you see, they weren't together. JM, being the workaholic that he is, highly driven with his work, having to give not 100% but 1000%, could easily lose himself in that work. And as much as he loves JK, or perhaps even more so because he's crazy about him, he can't have him around as a distraction. So, in a sense, when he works he can get lost in that work and that leaves little "free" time to spend with the person he loves, the person that loves him, the person that needs him. Same person that was REALLY struggling at the start of 2023 while JM was too absent. Again, that does not mean that JM was not spending time with JK. It was just not enough. Especially while JK was sort of lost at that point in a sense that he had no clear path set for himself. JK is different in the sense that JM is kind of his blankie, his anchor, his safe place. He needs JM around even when he is up to nothing (see JM's "he comes to my room to lie on my bed and do nothing" from the LA live 2021). And having him around is a need. Do we remember crying JK at the end of his lives on White day 2023. Heart wrenching. And again, it's not that JM doesn't need JK, he does, but a. his need is different to JK's, and b. JM was super busy at the time while JK was doing basically nothing.

And when JK was busy, well I'm guessing that JM was giving him the space he thought JK needed to work. But obviously this wasn't what JK wanted.

This saltiness is all coming from the same person that says he doesn't answer his phone calls or reply to texts. The person that JM complained when he doesn't answer his calls. With all that he still needed JM to reach out. He needed to know that JM is thinking about him.

This conversation isn't about them not seeing each other. It's about not seeing each other enough. It's about JM not seeking JK out as much as JK needed him to. And it's about them not being able, for whichever reasons (exterior or self inflicted) to do exactly this. Be out and about together. The two of them. This is exactly what you do in a healthy long term relationship. You talk. You are open. You tell your partner how you feel and what you need.

And you know what JK sounded like to me?

He reminded me of this JK:

The JK that even though he had already scolded JM he couldn't just let it go. That even though JM apologized several times and explained himself, he just couldn't let it go because it was weighing on him, that choice that he felt JM made.

And I know, I just know, that this conversation we got in the car was not a one of. That "Your here. Finally" we got from him at the end...

He needed this to happen, for JM to make this happen.

I will also add, even though I cannot go into too much detail at this point, that I feel that the : "You're here. Finally", has so much more sub context to it within the way they had both handled 2022-23 and that adjustment to the new reality. Not about it being easier for one over the other, but more so about how they handled this "apartness" that was kind of forced on them.

Anyway, that "finally", that was it for me. Seeing. No. Feeling how this was weighing on JK. Feeling just how important this was for him. JM making that effort and showing up for him like he did.

I hope that I have managed to get the message through. I will drill it in with my three keywords to this post:

COUPLE

CONTEXT

ENOUGH

I will end this by saying this:

Read that convo as you will, see those two as you will. At the end of the day not only did they CHOOSE to do this again and again (even with the little time they still had with their crazy schedules and upcoming enlistment). Not only did JK say he wanted to keep going with this until they are 50 years old. But they also CHOSE to enlist together. To be TOGETHER for those 18 months of military service. CHOOSING to do so knowing that meant a harder service and placement.

At the end of the day they CHOSE EACH OTHER.

And they will keep on doing so!!!

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #Jimin #JK #JM #Are you sure? Jikook

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fanaticsnail · 1 year ago

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Flowers

Full-length fic because my roses are currently in bloom in my garden and I couldn't get the romance away from my head while crocheting.

Word Count: 3,587

Swordsman just needed something light and fluffy.

Masterlist Here, song vibe suggestion here.

Inhaling the sweet fragrances of botanicals, you reopened your eyes to gaze at the vast abundance of colours that lay before you. Hues of vibrant orange tulips, deep red roses and the softness of babies breath with sweet jasmine paling the arrangements within the harbour-side florist.

You tapped your chin and hummed thoughtfully as you continued to mull your decisions over in your mind. The whole reason you joined the Straw-Hat pirates was specifically to document rare and unusual species of flora, fauna and fruiting plants that remain undiscovered and undocumented. You worked hard with Sanji whilst out on the open sea, determining the edibility of certain plants or what properties they could possibly wield to benefit your crew.

“Can I help you with anything there, love?” a voice called from inside the florist shop. An elderly woman made her way over to you, a warm grin adorning her cheeks in welcome.

“I’m just browsing for now, thank you,” you smiled in return, turning your gaze immediately to seek out a small floral arrangement in the corner of the room.

Vibrant green-drooped flowers hung lowly; trumpeting out along their wide stem. Peppered throughout the arrangement were pastel purple orchids, small bundles of dark crimson and yellow roses and small bulbs of vibrant pink gumnuts. Although the arrangement was beautiful, the true star of the show were the larger stemmed clusters of the emerald flowers.

“Ah,” the shopkeeper sighed, “you’ve seen my gladioli. Aren’t they spectacular?”

You gasped in absolute delight, bringing yourself closer to the cluster of florals.

“The arrangement,” you began, turning back to the elderly woman, “it’s breathtaking.”

“It’s peaceful, romantic and-,” she cut herself off, a small gasp sucked through her hissed teeth before releasing her breath, “sorrowful. This day marks ten years since my husband departed from this life and awaits me in the next. These are what I created for him.”

“I may not have known him,” you said, walking over to the woman and bowing a nod of respect towards her, “but from the representation of the flowers: the roses for grief and devotion, the eternal love from the orchid, the playfulness in the gumnuts; he sounds spectacular.”

“Don’t forget the gladioli,” she smiled through her sorrow, “they were his favourite.”

“Gladioli for integrity, honesty, and,” you reached down and took her hands within your own, cradling them against you warmly, “strength in character. He sounds like an amazing man, and I am truly sorry for your loss.”

She smiled at you and nodded her head at your words, receiving comfort from the sympathetic utterances from a complete stranger. You tore your gaze back towards the vibrant emerald colour of the gladioli flowers, fixating on their beauty.

“This may sound a little harsh; but, may I buy them from you?” you asked her in a low tone, turning your face back towards her with a soft smile, “you’ve placed a quest onto my heart that I require to see meet fruition.”

She quirks her brows at you and looks back to her prized arrangement, looking longingly at them.

“I would only sell them for good reason, lass,” she nodded, pursing her lips, “what quest holds over you?”

You sighed and released her hands, rummaging into your bag in search of your berry.

“Under usual circumstances,” you began, furrowing your brows as you continued your rummage, “men only receive flowers once in their lifetimes.”

“Oh,” she gasped lowly to you, nodding her head sorrowfully in acknowledgement, “how long has he been departed?”

“He’s not dead,” you smiled and shook your head, “although try as he might, he’s still with us.”

She furrowed her brows, tilting her head to the side and immediately smiled at your words, “these are for your fella then?”

“He’s not exactly my ‘fella’,” you nodded with a light laugh at her words, “but for a friend, yes.”

A small twinkle formed within her eye as she brought herself closer towards you and whispered; “and for how long have you been in love with him?”

You stiffened at her words, halting in place in shock. You had never thought about how you felt about Zoro aboard the Going Merry. Not when he would bring you a fresh cup of coffee and sit with you in the early mornings, silently watching the rising sun bring warmth over the ocean in solitude. Not even when he would instinctively hold out his left arm to shield your body from harms way once conflict arose with formidable foes. Even still, not a single thought regarding him absent-mindedly seeking you out for your opinions on shrubbery and moss he’d located and presented towards you; sitting adjacent to you and cocking his head to the side as he actively listened to everything you said about botany.

She hummed in delight and made her way over towards her arrangement and began to collect the stems from within their display, flourishing it with a brown hessian sash and tanned parchment paper.

“35,000 berry and they’re all yours, sweety,” she cooed at you, scrunching her nose up at you.

“That’s awfully low, Ma’am,” you frowned at her, locating a more appropriate amount of berry, “you’ll take 352,000, and I’ll also leave you with my name for future business arrangements.”

She halted her movements, looking down at the arrangement in her hands one more time before nodding to you and taking your berry from your outstretched hand.

“Thank you for parting with these,” you upturned your eyebrows in empathy, placing your hand on her shoulder and giving it a light squeeze in comfort, “they are beautiful and represent everything I want to now say.”

“I’m glad to be of assistance,” she hummed, tilting her head into your embrace. You held onto her for a moment longer before bidding her farewell with your departure.

It took a while for the remainder of the crew to return to the ship, you sat and documented within your botany journal a diagram of the flowers you purchased; shading various petals and leaves to depict the beauty of the arrangement.

As you had a small amount of time to yourself, you began to actively think on why exactly you immediately thought of your crewman as soon as you saw the flower shop. You never usually purchase flowers, especially since you would always find them on your adventures and set up arrangements to decorate the kitchen and your crew-quarters. You had never once thought to decorate a fellow Straw-Hat’s crew quarters, nor gift an arrangement prior.

What changed? Did you have budding romantic feelings developing for the loyal knight and protector of the Straw-Hat crew? You gulped the dry pit forming in your throat, a giddy feeling arising within your chest. Your fingers began to tremble and your heartbeat thumped with a drum-like rapidity.

You shook your head to rid them of the thoughts, your hands remaining the only thing strained and trembling under the implications of a small budding infatuation. Rolling your shoulders back and closing your eyes, you began to shake the feeling away before the crew began to rejoin you aboard your ship.

“There you are,” you heard a voice behind you. You upturned your head, seeking out the source of the voice.

Zoro’s vibrant green hair was the first thing you drew your attention to. The gladioli were the exact vibrant hue of his short locks; the entire reason you first intended on purchasing the arrangement.

“Here I am,” you replied with a cock of your head and a wide smile. His expression was airy, yet unreadable. He had his left wrist hanging on the hilt of his white blade attached to his hip, raking his eyes over your seated position at the polished wooden deck table. He quirked his head once his eyes met with the flowers in front of you.

“You got flowers?” he asked, his brows furrowing together in the middle before asking you again, “someone give them you?”

You laughed a small melodical chuckle before rising to your feet and clutching the wrapped flowers within your hands. You walked over to his place above deck and grinned at him.

“Actually, Zoro,” you began to anxiously giggle, your eyes widened in shock at your next words, “I bought them specifically for you.”

The furrow in his brows rose as he began searching between your two irises for hidden intentions, silently questioning your actions as you held out your hands with the arrangement. He hesitantly reached for them, looking down at the mixture of greens, reds, yellows and soft muted pastels and hesitated.

“Why?” he asked in a low rumbly whisper, halting his fingertips a hairline away from receiving your gift.

“Because I wanted you to see them,” you whispered in return, searching his face for reason for his apprehension at receiving his gift.

His fingertips brushed yours as he took the parchment wrapped florals into his grasp; the waft of whimsical beauty falling in waves over his senses.

“Why do you want me to see them?” he asked you, continuing to hold your hands within his as they clasped around the flowers. Both of your eyes held firm to the complimentary florae, focussing on anything other than fixating on each other’s eyes, ignoring the tension arising between you as you relished in his extended touch.

You sighed low and sorrowful, retracting your hands from the stems as you secured them within Zoro’s grasp.

“Men only receive flowers only once in their lifetimes, and they never even get to see them,” you sighed, taking your lower lip between your teeth to halt your nerves. A small rumbly growl of confusion began to rise in Zoro’s chest, questioning you on your thoughts.

“I wanted you to see them,” you reiterated, “you are so strong, Zoro,” you reached your hand up and hesitantly pressed your palm against his cheek, “you fight valiantly and with honour and integrity.”

You began to retract your hand, Zoro chasing your palm with his cheek as he clutched the flowers within his hands. You giggled at him, reluctantly placing your hand back to his cheek.

“And what is the one occasion men get flowers?” Zoro cluelessly asked you, prompting all playfulness to flee from your face. You didn’t think you had to actively inform him on the subject. Your brows rose upwards in sorrow as you searched around his cheeks, chin, nose, forehead and temple before settling once again on his eyes.

“Their funerals, Zoro,” you whispered, completely retracting your hand from his face, “this is a mourning arrangement for the honourable departed.”

Your eyes fled from his face and again made contact with the arrangement he held within his grasp.

Pursing your lips, you hardened your resolve and began to walk him through the several pieces clutched in his expert grasp.

“The yellow rose is for strong ties, as I am bound to you as your crewman,” you uttered in a low tone before adding, “the dark red is for grief and sorrow.”

You stood taller on the tips of your toes as you stooped with your index finger extended towards the various florals; “the gladioli, that’s the green one, is for a strong character. You’re so strong, Zoro,” you snuck a glance upwards to see Zoro’s eyes darkened and his teeth held tightly shut in a vice-like grip. You hesitated before continuing, “the gumnuts are for your humour.”

A small rumble began to form from his chest in disapproval at your comment, prompting a small giggle to escape from your lips as a natural and organic response.

“And the big purple ones?” he asked, his brows creasing and lip upturning in thought, “what are they for? I don’t speak flower.”

A wide grin appeared once again to your cheeks as his smirk playfully returned to his.

“Those are orchids,” you whispered, your eyes and smile softening as you stepped closer to him. You felt your pulse drumming painfully harshly within your ears as you sucked in a trembled and shaken breath, nodding to yourself before declaring; “those are because-,” you hesitated once more before flittering your eyes down to the flowers before looking up at him through your eyelashes, “well, they’re because I love you, Zoro.”

Disbelief. Complete and utter disbelief came over Zoro as he heard those words depart from your lips. He never thought his feelings towards you would ever be returned, holding fast within his resolve for his broody pining to forever remain painfully unrequited.

He had hoped, sure. He had longed, absolutely. He had dreamed that you would lean yourself against him in the early rise of the sun’s rays as you sat together. He had imagined having your lips meet for the first time as he loyally protected you from harms way on the battlefield. The way you spoke so passionately about honing in on your craft as botany and plant specialist bewitched him every time you opened your lips to depart knowledge onto him. His thoughts were only of training to finally match the league of Dracule Mihawk, and of how desperately and deeply he cared for you.

“I’m sorry,” you added, retreating from your proximity of him, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Please-,” you held your right hand up defensively in front of yourself and began to back away in retreat, “-please don’t treat me any differently. Enjoy the flowers,” you added with a small, soft smile, “they’re yours to do with what you will.”

Zoro now found himself in a bewilderment. He was perplexed that you relayed your emotions and intentions in such an unbridled manner, so boldly presenting him with your gift. He was sure you had even surprised yourself, not intending on relaying a romantic declaration on a meagre Tuesday afternoon in the middle of a random layover.

“Hey,” Zoro called over to you, a small harsh growl erupting from his tone; halting your step in your retreat, “get back here.”

Your body ceased up at his command, every fibre of self-preservation in your body refusing to turn to face him again. A warm blush had reddened against your features, hues over your nose, cheeks and tips of your ears heating your face to an uncomfortable temperature.

“Now,” Zoro again ordered you. Your body responded immediately, turning back to face him with your head holding firm in its bow to the floor; your eyes fixating on the wooden crevasses of the ship’s deck. Once close enough in bodily proximity to the swordsman, you heard his footsteps approach your body and almost stand flush against you.

The scent of the flowers hung within the air as he brought his left hand, which cradled the bunch, against your right shoulder. His right hand hooked his index finger under your chin as he raised it upwards. Your eyes first met with the broad scar across his chest, inflicted by the great warlord of the sea as he granted to spare his life under the great duel.

He continued to rise your chin, your gaze meeting with his lips; focussing on the small flicker of his tongue which darted out and retreated back within his mouth.

“Look at me,” he uttered with an air of confidence, prompting you to hesitantly meet his gaze with a small rose-tinge lingering still atop your cheeks.

His eyes held a foreign softness within them, his aura still commanding and noble as he held you tenderly within his fingertips. He smiled, wrapping his left arm around your shoulders and hooked you into his torso; the floral bunch resting behind your back within his clutches. Your breath hitched within your throat as your eyes widened in shock at his closeness.

“You buy me flowers for my funeral,” he uttered into you, the whisper of his breath against your lips force your eyes half-lidded in desire and anticipation, “and you don’t even stay for the procession?”

A small whimper fled from your lips at his attention, a tingle shooting up your spine and igniting the follicles on the surface of your neck and forearms. He released his hold on your chin as he fled his hand down to grasp at your hip, pulling you flush against himself as he brought his lips down to mould themselves atop your own.

You stood in shock, your eyes looking at his face in awe at his kiss. You snaked your arms around his shoulders to rest at the nape of his neck; fingertips brushing against the tri-pierced left earlobe as you raked your right hand over his muscles. You flittered your eyes shut and smiled against his lips in glee, standing atop the tips of your toes once more to reach more of his towering body.

He immediately dragged his left arm over your shoulders to draw it down to your hips, immediately hoisting you upwards into the air. You shrieked in surprise, feeling his lips grin against you as he picked you up below your thighs. You hooked your ankles behind his back, thighs resting atop his hips as he arched his face upwards to meet against your lips; arching his jaw and chin to deepen the connection shared between you. You felt his blades begin to awkwardly dig their hilt against your flesh, but paid them no mind as you were now held securely within the strong arms of the valiant knight and loyal protector of the Straw-Hat pirates.

You drew your right hand up to rake your fingertips against Zoro’s hair, gently caressing his follicles with your fingertips. He groaned against your lips, furrowing his brows and leant appreciatively against your touch. While continuing to clutch the flowers within his left hand, he smoothed his right hand to rake its hold against your thigh, reaching around the flesh to grasp the muscles of your ass and support your body further against himself.

You were so enraptured by each other’s touch, the feel of your bodies moulding so intimately together; you felt as if you were the only two people existing on this side of the world. Zoro walked your body over to the table and placed you down to rest atop it, his swords again bumping against your body awkwardly; prompting a small giggle to flee from your lips and onto his at the collision.

Zoro tentatively placed the bouquet gently beside you as he stood himself between your parted legs, hooking his hands below your knees to bring your body as close as he could possibly feel you while clothed. You moaned into his mouth as you brushed your hand over his hair and onto his cheek; feeling the cool metal from his piercings once again below your palm.

All of your senses were completely overwhelmed by your swordsman; the way his body felt flush against your own, the waves of desire you could tangibly feel radiating from him for every hungry kiss placed against your lips. He trailed his lips against the corner of your mouth, brushing and grazing your skin below his tongue and teeth as they raked their way down your neck. A small whimper escaped your lips as he located your pulse, swirling his tongue against it with a rough groan falling from behind his own lips.

The smell of the bouquet beside you was as sweet as the sounds you were pouring from your lips and into the awaiting audience of Zoro’s ears; a private performance meant only for him and him alone. The ocean breeze wafting over your senses as the wind picked up, a small inkling of something not entirely unfamiliar to you; but unwelcome never the less.

Tobacco.

A rough cough interrupted Zoro’s action of pulling the neckline of your shirt down to reveal your clavicle for his next assault with his mouth. You both snapped your eyes over to the sound, noticing the blonde chef ignite the end of a new cigarette with the filter end drawn between his lips, a small litter of depleted butts pooling at his feet.

“H-how long have-,” you began to stutter out, eyes wide and in shock at the knowledge you were in the presence of an audience.

“-Long enough to not miss the procession,” the chef chuckled at you both, inhaling the cigarette before releasing the nicotine riddled smoke in a long exhale, “came to let you know lunch is ready.”

“And you didn’t say a word?” Zoro growled through gritted teeth at the chef, prompting another laugh to flee from Sanji’s lips.

“Hey,” Sanji began, holding his hands up defensively, “we placed a wager on it, I didn’t want to sway the odds.”

Zoro growled, reluctantly releasing you from his grasp and shielding your dishevelled body from view of the blonde chef.

“Are you okay?” Zoro asked you quietly as you collected yourself. You sighed with a light smile coming to your face.

“I am, Zoro,” you replied, “better than ever.”

He smiled down at you, fixing the scabbards of his swords on the hilt to his side with a large, wolfy but bashful grin. As you both collected yourselves, you hopped down from your place atop the table and turned to walk towards Sanji, vocal reprimands fleeing from your lips as you did so.

Zoro chuckled under his breath, turning back around to collect his flowers. He stared at the bouquet, examining it. They were beautiful, a perfect reminder of his mortality. He vowed to return the favour at the next port, wooing you with a reminder of your own fleeting moments together in this life.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x you #zoro x you #romance #fluff #flowers #one piece fic

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cina-full-moon-xanadium · 3 months ago

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Heisei/Reiwa Kamen Rider Bike Riding Time research

Hello there! Does anyone remember from a little while back when this image was going around?

For a while, at least in fan communities I frequented; this was quite infamous for showing just how sharp a decline Kamen Rider's namesake had become in the last few years, with the absolute nadir of the Heisei 20th anniversary Kamen Rider using his bike for a total of 47 seconds (and also, on the other end; just how much Kuuga would not get off his bike)

Obviously, it's been a few years since Saber now; and I've found myself wondering from time to time exactly how the Riders since then have fared, especially since both Geats and Gotchard have garnered a reputation of sorts for putting a bit more emphasis on the bikes and feeling like they have more screentime than your Zero-Ones and your Sabers.

So! I went looking and found the source. This extremely dedicated Japanese poster called Yamashita Radio who of course I will be basing the majority of this on, including his rules and his counting. And when I say 'dedicated' I mean that at one point he lost all his data so he just counted Kuuga through Saber all over again. MAD respect for this man! I highly recommend a full readthrough of this 5-part post at one point because it's very impressive and interesting stuff in my opinion

One other interesting point is that that chart there? That's main rider only; and also includes any riding they did as civilians. There is a separate chart for all motorbike riding in the show as a whole; including other riders, including monsters, including even just random civilians! For posterity, I think it's important to post that chart for comparison with the main rider one -- I've colour coded here so that red is Heisei 1 (Kuuga-Decade), green is Heisei 2 (W-Zi-O) and yellow is Reiwa (Zero-One onwards). Main rider only on the left, all biking on the right.

Up front there are some absolutely fascinating observations to make here - Zero-One had the least bike scenes of any show! Brand new era of Kamen Rider! - but I think I've talked about the past enough. With all this said and what I feel is a very important plug to make, let's get into the meat of this -- how do Revice, Geats and Gotchard compare to previous shows?

Rules

... okay, yeah, sure; let's quickly establish a baseline first. As I'm going off of Yamashita's work, I'm also going by all his rules; it's a good thing I agree with all of them because I kinda didn't want to completely redo the count of every season!

TV Show ONLY! No movies, no TTFC specials, no HBVs, no V-Cinema, none of it. The main reason given is that, uh, Paradise Lost has a 100+ bike scene near the start so that's too much of an advantage -- fair enough! Personally I also think it's more interesting, because movies generally have more budget and allowances for bike scenes so those tend to be the same. Maybe a separate count would still be interesting, but I think including movies would flatten out the times too much and make the data pretty uninteresting

No openings! Agito has too much of an advantage

Non-transformed states count the same as transformed states. Godai riding a bike is the same as Kuuga riding a bike.

All motorcycles are treated equally! Mopeds and even CG scenes and bikes are allowed

Other vehicles such as cars, trains and even bicycles and hoverbikes are excluded. Two big exceptions are made for Drive and Revice as they do not have a main motorbike otherwise, but this does exclude things like Gaim's Dandeliner, many of the Oni in Hibiki's transport vehicles, Den-O's Den-Liner, Gotchard's Steamliner and Madwheel and Decade's Agito Slider

Transformations of the bike still count as long as it's being ridden. The Boostriker turns into fox mode while you're riding it? That's fair game

Flashbacks and other repeat footage ("previously on" segments etc) don't count of course. But in cases where it's clearly stock footage but it's still a new event, like the many Ryuki Rideshooter scenes, that's still counted

Count from the moment the bike is straddled to the moment the bike is gotten off, and everything in between. Scenes where the bike isn't technically visible - such as close-ups of the rider's face, or cutting to another character's reaction - are still counted if it's all the same scene

Revice

3m21s (2m23s for Revi only)

Oh lucky me, this was actually done for me! Yamashita made a small update after Revice finished to add this. I just went over and double checked it.

At 3m21s, Revice is at this point the series with the 2nd least amount of bike riding; above Zero-One and below Zi-O. For Revi alone he's in 3rd least; above Zero-One and below Saber. Happy 50th anniversary!

An interesting note here is that Ikki never rides Vice Ptera untransformed -- concerns over the actor's safety, maybe? Daiji also pulls in 58 seconds for the show on his own motorbike, but abandons it completely after episode 13; only bringing it back for the summer movie (which is also the only place he rode it as Live). Interestingly, the 12 seconds he rides it with Sakura in episode 13 is the only time he uses it in the show after becoming a Rider. The skateboarding scene in episode 7 for Jackal Form goes on for over a minute, but unfortunately can't count for this...

I think most people expected Revice to place quite low, though. So let's move on to a show I think a lot of people expect to place higher.

Geats

4m05s (3m45s for Geats only)

I keep repeating it, but this is a show where it seemed a lot of people got the impression of the bike having more importance than before. I think there's a lot of aspects that come together into that -- the bike being tied to a specific 'special' item that's even part of the main rider's main form, the upgrade forms going off of that, and the bike being used in prominent scenes including in the first episode. Geats even arrives on it in his Revice summer movie cameo!

But ultimately if you look at riding time, Geats ends up in 3rd place for overall bike time; above Revice and below Zi-O, while for main rider only Ace ends up in 5th last; above Saber and below Decade. As such he ends up being the main Reiwa Rider to use his bike the most.

This is where I started splitting main rider and untransformed rider in my personal tracking charts, just for fun -- I actually couldn't do that for Revice because as said Ikki never rides anything untransformed except his bicycle. Until episode 11 Ace actually just slightly edged out Geats for having more bike time which was enjoyable to see.

A very interesting thing happens in regards to the Boostriker's transformed state. I decided not to include finishers involving it unless the Rider is specifically riding it -- and the one and only one to do so was Buffa in episode 6, accounting for every single second he rode the machine. He had a penchant for using the buckles' weapons in ways he wasn't supposed to, and he kept up that rule even when the 'weapon' was a bike.

Geats spends a decent amount of time in the final episode sitting on his bike while talking to Regad and the other Riders, and that really saved the show's overall times.

Gotchard

5m09s (2m32s for Gotchard alone)

According to production blogs, Gotchard had a stated aim of using the bike more. Unfortunately it seems this didn't manifest itself in a very major way... but I think we did see more interesting uses of it! Spanner has his own bike (that like Daiji, he never rides transformed!), there's a version of Golddash from the future, other characters including Golddash itself ride rather than Hotaro at multiple points!

For 'others', the 3 seconds in Episode 2 is when Minato rolls up to deliver Golddash to Hotaro personally. Episode 9's 5 seconds have Renge (with Sabimaru in the back) riding it to deliver Hotaro's cards to him in Kyoto.

Spanner shockingly saved the series' overall time here in a similar way to final episode Ace, by sitting on his for an extended period of time during his conversation with Lachesis at the start of episode 47.

While it's not a very long scene nor did it change anything for the rankings, the bike scene in the final episode that just aired is notable for an extremely rare instance of a Rider Machine being ridden by a Kamen Rider's final form. To my knowledge this has previously only been done by Agito, Den-O and Revice (the latter in a movie). Fittingly for a show where part of the direction was inspired by Agito, both Agito and Gotchard do this Final Form bike scene in their final episodes.

And now, for the final count...

Gotchard ended up in 21st for overall bike time between Zi-O and Saber, but this was largely due to other characters; so Hotaro alone ended up in 22nd between Revice and Saber.

Overall we're now 5 shows in instead of 2, we can indeed see a very large dropoff in the Reiwa Era -- including Zi-O, the most recent 6 shows are all at the bottom of the list. This is especially notable when The next most recent series, Build, had 12m31s; almost double that of Saber's -- and this wasn't uncommon, with Ghost and Ex-Aid sharing similar times.

This was the main thrust of my research... but what say we go on a little addendum? Because when I mentioned Yamashita updated his post to include Revice in 2022, there was... one other series he saw fit to do a count for. One that was only halfway through, but nonetheless saw an impressive amount of bike riding time. He only got halfway, but what say I finish the job out of pure interest?

It is "Avataro Sentai Donbrothers"

The extremely normal 2022 entry into the Super Sentai series has a number of bike scenes. Some you may expect from Don Momotaro riding his CGI Enyarideon on his Palanquin for much of the first cour. Some of you might say that CGI shouldn't count, it's easy enough to animate together a scene than deal with road laws and such -- but does Kijibrother not count? Does Inubrother not count? Do none of the mech scenes count? It's a festival, people. Let's enjoy it.

Even aside from the CGI, Yamashita noted halfway through the show; that can't quite account for everything else. Sonoi has a bike he rides in multiple episodes, every time with a wheelie. Inuzuka twice within 4 episodes steals a bike and almost runs people over with it, as is perfectly fine for a hero. Don Kaito shows up with his own motorbike to promote his new book, which you should buy. For a show where it's not even in the name and for recent Sentai, there's an awful lot of riding going on.

Yamashita in his post speculates that part of this is Inoue's own habits -- as a man whose Toku experience largely consists of regularly writing for Kamen Rider in the 00s, it's natural to expect he would be inclined to write something like "Inubrother escapes the scene on a motorcycle..." as if it was second nature; as if that's nothing special for a modern show.

And I would be inclined to believe that... as such a habit is something that would likely get ironed out after a while; and sure enough, while bike scenes are frequent for the first half of the show, they disappear entirely from episode 23 to 43. It is at this point in my own count I thought we would simply never see a large bike scene from the show again, and the sheer fun of counting up Donbrothers would be lost.

And then... he appeared.

My saviour from the future.

With a full uninterrupted 1 minute 15 second bike scene

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I remembered the future episode but I had completely forgotten this was a part of it. When I started timing this episode I was leaving the house fairly shortly and I figured like the past 20 episodes this would be easy enough to count, and I was utterly bewildered. I should never have disbelieved for a moment.

With all that said... where does Donbrothers end up in full?

7m21s (4m23s for Don Momotaro alone)

This overwhelming record easily puts both Donbrothers and Don Momotaro in 20th place of their respective charts; beating all Reiwa Riders and Zi-O -- with Don Momotaro even coming close to dethroning Kamen Rider Decade's riding time!

This is where we stand, my companions. In an era where Kamen Rider's biking time is lower than ever before and shows no sign of significant recovery, Donbrothers swoops in to steal its glory. Never lose faith. The festival never ends

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year ago

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Drunk, but oh so in love.

{A drunk Spencer Reid is very affectionate, not that you're complaining.}

I love him sm it’s crazy, enjoy my lovelies!! 💕💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Quiet summer nights like this are always nice when the air isn’t too stuffy and the moon is high, accompanied by a nice breeze. You’re sitting on your sofa with a new colouring book on your lap as you colour away, partly paying attention to the random ocean documentary that was playing on the tv.

You enjoyed the serenity, although you were starting to miss Spencer since he had been stolen away from you by Derek Morgan, claiming that he and Spencer deserved a ‘boys' night’ after having a great week, he didn’t seem all that thrilled at the idea but Derek had a way of talking that made it impossible to say no.

You looked over to your phone, it was nearing midnight and just as you were about to turn away it rang, and you smiled when Spencer’s name showed up, vibrating a few times before you pressed down on the green button holding the device to your ear.

“Hey-” and before you could even get a whole sentence out you heard rustling from the other side of the line, along with a pair of voices arguing. Spencer and Derek.

“Kid- wait-”

“No give it to me, I wanna say hi-”

“You can’t- just-”

“Give me my phone Morgan-”

You heard Derek groan and then more shuffling. You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of the pair fighting for the phone.

“Hey sweetheart- sorry ‘bout that, Derek stole my phone, can you believe that?” You smile at the genuine disbelief in Spencer’s tone, and you can hear Derek say something about how he ‘didn’t steal it’ and a very long sigh.

“Anyway, I’m coming home now. I missed you, missed you a lot and I love you… so much” he says, and you practically hear the exhaustion that laces through his tone.

“I missed you too baby” you smile as you start to put away your colouring book, deciding you should also probably get him a change of clothes ready for when he returns.

“Missed you more, and your voice- god I can’t wait to come home I want- hey!” And before Spencer could inevitably embarrass himself, and you, Derek takes the phone from his hand with a frustrated huff holding him back with his arm as he talks to you.

“Your man had one too many, and he’s been asking for you nonstop for the past hour,” he tells you and the thought has your chest blooming with love, but then it daunts on you, a drunk Spencer who rambles about you without a care who’s listening, yeah you think you’ll worry about that a different day.

“Wonderful, you’ll call Hotch? because he’s not going to work tomorrow. ” You sigh, trying to keep a stern tone and Derek agrees with a chuckle and a ‘Yes ma’am' whilst still trying to keep Spencer at an arm's length as he fights for the phone and you can hear him in the background.

“Derek, Derek, Derek- tell her I love her. I love you, sweetheart!” You giggle as you say your goodbyes to a very exhausted-sounding Derek Morgan before hanging up the phone with a sigh, you were in for a very long night.

Which in all honesty was such an understatement as you try to help Spencer walk up a flight of stairs after he downright refused to take the elevator, something about a ‘terrifying experience’ that then had him drunkenly rambling off horrifying elevator accidents.

He leans all his weight onto your side as he tries to kiss you. Your arm wraps securely around him and at this point, you’re practically dragging him up the stairs and you start to deeply regret telling Derek you would be fine taking him back up to the apartment by yourself.

Eventually, by some miracle, you got him into the apartment, guiding him to take a seat at the table as you pour him some water. You plop a few ice cubes into the glass before placing the cool beverage on the table and you notice the way his eyes don’t leave you, he looks almost star-struck.

“Are you going to drink the water hmm?” You ask inching the glass closer to him, his eyes seem to glisten with admiration.

“You’re really pretty” he whispers as if it was a secret meant for only you to hear and you can’t help but giggle. You watch as his eyebrows knit together with an almost offended expression, “No, I’m being serious. It’s true you’re beautiful” and his words only make you chuckle all the more.

“Come on, drink up then we’ll go to bed,” you tell him, pushing the hair that frames his face and tucking it behind his ear. He smiles up at you as you press a gentle kiss to his forehead, hand resting on his cheek before you go and find him something more comfortable to wear.

Spencer practically downs the entire glass before clumsily jogging into the bedroom, tripping over air as he enters the dimly lit room with a small- ‘Crap!’

You gasp as you watch him fall forward and, luckily, onto the bed, “Sorry” he chuckles, sitting up as you walk over to him, “I just missed you” he suddenly stands up, his hands cupping either side of your jaw as he starts to pepper gentle kisses all over your face.

You try to push yourself away, telling him that you both should sleep as it’s nearing two in the morning but all attempts are fruitless.

“I love you so much” he smiles as his eyes study your face, “So so so much”

“I love you too Spence, now sit down before you hurt yourself,” you say and he presses one last final kiss to the tip of your nose, and with that, he finally sits back down on the bed as he starts to unbutton his shirt.

You turn to go and grab his PJs and by the time you face him his shirt is stuck halfway off his head and he lets out a frustrated groan as he tries to tug the shirt off with half the buttons still done up.

“Oh my- baby, stop. stop” you tell him moving his hands away as you start to undo the buttons and once he’s finally released from the confines of his uncomfortable button-up, you hand him an old Star Trek shirt and he happily pulls it over his head, his hair all tussled from the action.

“Thank you honey” he smiles as his hands settle against your hips, tugging you closer to him, his head resting against your stomach, “You know Derek was wrong,” he tells you matter-of-factly.

Your fingers brush through his hair, “About what hmm?” You ask, genuinely curious as to where this was going.

He looks up at you with an almost proud smirk, “I’ve got game” he says, pride bursting through his chest and he holds you a little closer.

You chuckle, “Well, I mean you wooed me so” you trail off, as he nods against you and you can tell by the look on his face that the exhaustion is creeping up on him.

“Yeah, and you’re- you’re just extraordinary, so I must be doing something right,” he says, and you would be lying if you said his words didn’t make you feel a little giddy.

You smile down at him before leaning to press a kiss to his hairline, “Put on these and I’ll go get you some more water, then we’ll go sleep, yeah?” you whisper handing him a pair of joggers because god knows the apparent gets unbelievably cold at night. And he nods watching with love-sick eyes as you walk out of the bedroom.

And sleep he does, but not before telling you he loves you about one hundred times, before he curls up against you with his leg thrown over yours, his hand splayed across your soft belly as he snores against your shoulder. And you prepare yourself to spend the day looking after a very hungover Spencer Reid, not that you’re complaining of course, there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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hannibals-favourite-meal · 10 months ago

Note

Bruce Wayne. 2

.⋆｡Batman’s Kryptonite｡⋆.

Bruce Wayne x plus size reader

Bruce works too hard but unluckily for him, you’re more stubborn than he is

Warnings: reader can be sunburnt, fluff, mentions of showering together, workaholic Bruce

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

5k Follower Celebration

Bruce was nothing if not a hard worker. He continuously worked himself to the bone to keep everything afloat and for that, you really did admire him. He used his privilege to help so many people both in his day job and his night job but god did you find it hard to spend time with him.

His brain seemed fixated on his goals, even in the quiet moments where there was nothing to do. Nothing ever got his full attention, not even you, his loving girlfriend.

“How long has he been down here?” You crossed your arms over your chest as you observed Bruce who was currently hunched over his new project, blue eyes firmly fixated on the delicate wiring. Alfred sighed heavily through his nose.

“Since the moment he returned from the airport after dropping you off.” Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“That-“ You took a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down. “I knew a week long girl’s trip was too good to be true. I’ll take care of this, take a couple days off.” The older man nodded and left the cave with a fatherly squeeze to your shoulder.

As soon as you heard the elevator doors shut, you shed the thick cardigan and long sleeve shirt you were wearing, leaving you just in leggings (that Bruce absolutely went crazy for) and a thin undershirt that did little to disguise the colour of your bra. Your steps were light but not completely silent, it would do you no good to sneak up on the Dark Knight.

Even centimetres away, you could feel the tension in Bruce’s muscles, like he was wound up for a fight. He jumped only slightly as you laid your hands on his shoulder blades but he quickly eased into your tough, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Back early?”

“Actually, I’m right on time.” His hands faltered and you knew that his dark brows were pulled up like they always did when he was coming out of a work-related trance. The chair turned yet your hands never left his skin, now resting on his strong chest as he looked up at you. His pupils dilated, slowly overtaking the stunning blue of his irises as he took in your attire.

“Are you sure?”

You chuckled. “I have the sunburn to prove it.” He grunted, obviously not quite believing you, or he just didn’t want to admit that he hadn’t obeyed your suggestion of taking some time off when you were gone.

“You were supposed to come back on the fifth.” Bruce tried to argue as his eyes flicked back to his work. You knew that look, it was his ‘I want to end this conversation so I can get back to work’ but you knew exactly what to do to distract him.

“It is the fifth, my love. Maybe you need to take a break. How about coming upstairs with me and we’ll have a nice hot shower?” Your touch slowly migrated up his chest to his jaw and Bruce’s eyelids fluttered under the attention. But he just as quickly tensed up again, catching onto your game.

“Sorry sweets, I have work to do.” He attempted to turn his chair back around but you stepped between his spread legs, pinning him to the spot with your body.

Your bottom lip turned out into a truly award winning pout and you sniffed. “But I missed you baby, I just want to spend some time with you.” You could actually see his will beginning to crumble. One more step.

Tears filled your eyes. “Do you not want to spend time with me?”

He knew that they were crocodile tears but they tugged at the mass of guilt in his chest anyway. “Do not. I said no. Those puppy dog eyes don’t work every time. Fuck- fine.” Immediately, your tears disappeared and you beamed at him.

“Great! Maybe I’ll also show you the new bikinis I got on the trip.” Bruce groaned and let you pull him to his feet, abandoning his half-finished work.

“You are a cruel woman.” He complained as you dragged him to the cave’s exit. You looked back at your boyfriend with a wink.

“I just know Batman's kryptonite.” You teased and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, Bruce wholeheartedly agreed. You definitely knew how to get him to fold.

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asapeveryday · 5 months ago

Text

NEVER THE BRIDE

Oikawa Toru x Reader

Your best friend is getting married and it’s starting to seem like you’ll never get to have that experience. The grooms best man serves as a reminder…or perhaps a change.

INHALE, EXHALE. You’re starting to feel a normal beat, a comfortable rhythm in your breathing as you coax these two words to yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your tears have mostly dried, your makeup has been touched up, your eyes are only slightly red-rimmed.

Inhale, exhale. You haven’t cried this erratically since your high school boyfriend broke up with you. The idea seems so small and irrelevant now compared to all the adult troubles you’ve experienced so far.

Inhale, exhale. Today is the best day of your best friends life thus far. She is legally entwined with a man she’s in love with, she’s going to spend the rest of her days next to him, working through every obstacle and celebrating every achievement. She’s not just your friend anymore, she’s someone’s wife, and soon enough she’ll be someone’s mother.

Inhale, exhale. You feel your stomach lurch as you exit the washroom and spot him at your table, laughing, joking, celebrating the love his own friend Hajime has found in your best friend. You can feel a billion memories stampede any prior attempts to stay collected.

Being next to the bride just hours earlier at the ceremony was colourful and exciting. Being her maid of honour cemented the depth of your friendship even more, even though you had been fighting this nagging feeling that she was leaving you behind. You could stay positive, all you had to do was avoid his gaze as he stood across from you, beside the groom.

When the vows were being read it became apparent just how much he was staring at you, as if begging, no, challenging you to look at his face.

To have and to hold from this day forward.

He clenched his jaw ever so slightly when your eyes flitted to his.

For better, for worse,

You held his gaze despite the growing, gnawing feeling of yearning inside of you at the memory of watching him outgrow your love.

for richer, for poorer,

He shifted on his feet, undoubtedly remembering the many arguments money once caused you two.

in sickness and in health,

The sight of his pale skin accumulating an embarrassed blush that you often saw when he would catch a cold after training outside for too long flashed through your mind.

to love and to cherish,

He practically winced at these words spoken. His face was tense, uncomfortable, but un breaking under your stare. Had he cherished you?

till death do us part.

Words you had wished you’d been able to utter, staring him in the face like you were then…only under different circumstances.

Snapping back to reality, you shake off the residual sadness as best as you can before returning to your table where your problem resides.

“Having fun?” He says, turning to look at you as you sit down.

“Plenty.” You respond curtly. “I’ve been rooting for my girl and Hajime since day one.”

“So have I.” He responds, though the far-away look in his eyes makes you shiver. He’s analyzing you in this awful way, searching for any hidden feelings. You used to hate it when you were together.

“Quit staring at me, Oikawa.” You mutter, and he’s taken aback for a moment.

“Oikawa?” He says, eyebrows furrowed. “Toru. Please, call me Toru.”

“You stopped being Toru a while ago.” You scoff, turning your head. He doesn’t say anything. Even when the table slowly empties into the dance floor and there’s nobody else to distract from the tension, neither of you say anything at all.

You find yourself looking at the mass of people, couples and friends spinning and dancing, laughing and crying tears of joy. You’ve witnessed the same scene over and over again throughout the past year, and you’ve become more and more ashamed with each wedding you’ve attended. Not too long ago you had thought one of these weddings would be yours.

“Does it still bother you?”

You jerk your head towards the voice. “What?”

“Er, does it still hurt you. The weddings.” Oikawa says quietly. You remember now that he was aware, that you had told him about how left behind you felt. You also remember thinking he might be the one to resolve your problem.

“What do you think?” You finally say, turning your body towards him. “Everyone is settling down and I’m alone. All of those weddings this past year, alone? Yeah, it still hurts.”

“You weren’t alone for all of those weddings.” He says, almost too quickly, though you can tell he regrets it. You can feel anger bubbling inside of you regardless. Oikawa had been your plus one almost every time.

“I might as well have been.” You snap. “Or else I would’ve been tied down by now.”

A beat passes. You’re looking down, playing with the plastic table coverings. You know he’s looking straight at you.

“I’m sorry.” He says, soft and considerate. A tone that once soothed you.

“Don’t be.” You say. “You chose your career and it worked. Plus, we would’ve never made it through that, not with your travelling to all these foreign countries, with foreign women and…” you trail off, feeling embarrassed. He wasn’t able to give you what you wanted: stability. It wasn’t in his schedule. He needed to take risks to ensure his place in the world was set, not as your husband, but as an athlete.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt by weddings.” Oikawa says. You just look up, hoping he elaborates.

“Me n’ Iwa used to always say we’d have a double wedding.” He chuckles, though it’s slightly hollow. “I remember thinking it wouldn’t work out. He always said I’d probably beat him to it, me being a bit of a ladies man in school and all.” He mumbles the last bit under his breath.

“It’s, uhm. It’s just embarrassing. Looking back at how I just assumed love would come so easily to me. And here I am at his wedding. He found someone he wants to spend the rest of his life with before I even managed to establish my career. He found someone he loves.” He finishes.

“And you?” You ask just above a whisper. Oikawa sucks in a breath before meeting your eyes.

“I did too. But I threw it away.”

You hold your breath as you look at him, face warming and body honing a shell shocked buzz. You hold the brunette boys gaze for what seems like ages before one of the bridesmaids comes to your table.

She tells you and Oikawa that the best friends of the bride and groom should be on the dance floor, pulling you and him with each hand and patting you on the back when you glare at her. You awkwardly walk behind him, weaving between masses of white clothed tables to reach the space in the middle of the venue, it’s packed with people and concentrated with upbeat music.

The party music fades to a more somber tune as you and Oikawa enter the crowd. The bride and groom have already had the first dance, so this dance is obviously meant for any other couples. You watch as children and singles filter out, though many friends stay back for the fun of it. You glance around search for someone else to be with during the song when Oikawa turns around to face you.

His hand is held out to yours in an invitation that makes your heart both swell and ache. You stare at his calloused palms and extended fingers in a moment of contemplation, but when he utters a quiet “please” You finally slip your hand in his.

One hand gingerly finds the small of your waist while the other holds your own. His thumb grazes soothing strokes on the skin of your hand and you can feel him looking at your face with such intensity, likes he’s memorizing your features.

You haven’t been this close to Oikawa in ages, you haven’t been handled so softly in just as long. You forgot about the stray sunspots on his face, about the way his ears grow pink when flustered, about how he takes you in so completely. Dancing with him is reminding you of so many beautiful things you’ve forgotten.

“I want you back.” He says.

“If your best friend wasn’t getting married before you would you have still wanted me back?” You quip.

“Forget about Iwa. I wanted you back the minute it ended.”

You glare at him as the two of you slowly spin through the floor. His expression is serious, eyebrows furrowed and mouth tight-lipped.

“I don’t know if I can take another disappointment.” You say. “Not from you, not from anybody.”

You inhale, you exhale. Surprisingly he does too. Your palm is starting to sweat, though he doesn’t pull away. Your breathing is in sync with his.

“I missed you, Toru.” You sigh. Your voice wavers at the confession, but his eyes sparkle at the use of his given name, at the reciprocation of his feelings.

“I’ve wanted to hear that for so long.” He smiles with relief.

“And I’ve wanted to wear white. And be with someone who’ll be mine for the rest of my life.” You respond, frowning. “I don’t know if you can manage that.”

He thinks for a moment, eyes trained on yours still as if it would kill him to look away. He smells like the apartment you two once shared, like the past and something more new and mature.

“Back then I probably couldn’t.” He admits, a small and ashamed smile pulling at his lips. “But I know I can now.”

Inhale, exhale. The song is ending soon, and you’ll be back to your table. You can say no and never be this close to him again, or you can say yes and fight for a chance to be more than a bridesmaid someday.

“I’ll need time.” You finally decide. “And commitment for real this time.”

The music fades and couples begin to part ways. Toru’s hand leaves your waist but his other stays entwined with yours. “All yours.” He says, and you can feel that he means it.

#fanfiction #fanfic #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa torū #toru oikawa #oikawa toru x reader

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sweetcocopowder · 2 months ago

Text

Day Thirteen: Stress Relief

Synopsis: Three and a half months of non-stop jobs back to back and Dean can feel the tension residing in his muscles. In every fiber of his being. Spa days don't work. A casual beer doesn't help to rid of this feeling. He needs someone to fuck the tension away. And he has his angel to do so.

Word Count: 3.3K

Pairing: Castiel / Dean Winchester

Warnings: Multiple orgasms. Oversensitive. Massages. Cum as lube. But also lube is used as well. Handcuffed. Anal sex. Masturbation. Hand job.

Note: Jesus christ we're already this far into october. where did the first two weeks go?

The angel blinks, brows furrowed and mouth slightly agape. He stares at Dean for a tad too long that the man groans with a hand swiping down his face. Embarrassment sinks heavily into his gut, causing Dean to advert his gaze down to the floor.

“Dean,” Castiel speaks firmly, “I’m not protesting,” he admits.

The hunter sits on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the blanket. He’s asked for similar stuff in the past, but this. This concerns Castiel more than it does anything else.

“I just wished you had told me before how stressed you were,” the angel admits. “Have you tried a spa day?”

“You know those don’t work!” Dean snaps. “They work for a day, but I wake up still feeling tense as ever!”

Cas just wishes he had noticed sooner. Or that Dean had spoken out sooner. Him and his brother have had job after job after job for the past three month and a half with little to no breaks in between. Yes, Dean has been doing this his entire life, but he’s admitted to Cas that he doesn’t go out to bars at all these days. No time to or he just doesn’t see the need to.

Dean’s a complicated man hence why the angel doesn’t care when the hunter goes out late at night. Or hooks up with someone on the side. He would hate to put a claim on a human soul. He’s been owned in the past himself and it sends a shiver down his spine. Uriel’s touch still lingers in some spots if he thinks about it too much.

But with moments like these that Dean does come to him, allows himself to move past his father’s words that spin around his mind that linger like an early morning fogs, Cas takes what he’s given. And he’ll gladly, in Dean’s words, fuck all the tension from him.

A firm hand pushes Dean back onto the bed with a thump. The tension in Dean’s room quickly melts away as fast as it came. The angel looks down to Dean through hooded lids, his blue gaze like steel. The usual colour is so much darker in the shadows of the room that it sends a chill down the hunter’s spine. He doesn’t move from the bed, staring up at the angel as he breathes evenly.

“Take your clothes off.”

The angel’s gruff spoken words cause a physical reaction from Dean. A shiver and a slight flinch of his hands, as if he was anticipating the order. He eagerly takes his flannel and shirt off, all without sitting back up off the bed. While Dean shuffles his pants off, Cas wonders over to his bedside table where he knows lube is stashed.

When Cas turns, Dean is stark naked on the bed. The fresh and yellowing bruises across his torso are hard to miss. There’s a dark purple circle on his ribcage that looks painful. Cas will have to heal that later.

Dean lazily strokes at himself, his head lolled to the side so that he can watch the angel. Cas smiles softly before it disappears. It truly hurts him to see Dean so battered up and bruised.

Cas asks a question as he comes back over to the bed. “How long as it been since someone else has touched you?”

Dean swallows thickly as his green eyes don’t dare drag away from the angel before him. He doesn’t answer, instead watching as Cas shuffles off his trench coat and taking off his tie. He doesn’t stop stroking himself and doesn’t quicken the pace. And the angel doesn’t seem phased at all. He even sits next to Dean on the edge of the bed, his clothes brushing up against his bare thigh.

“Hmm?” Cas hums.

“Around three months,” Dean finally answers.

A single dark brown is raised in Dean’s direction. “So, before you went on the first job?”

“Ye- nah!”

Dean pants out unexpectedly as a small dollop of lube is squeezed out onto the head of his dick. The cold contrast has him hissing but it’s quick to warm up on his hand.

“Don’t stop,” Cas says firmly, his voice blunt. “Keep going for me.”

In the past, Dean was a little taken a back by how pretty much the same the angel was in bed to his usual demeanour. Blunt, to the point and sort of a control freak. He doesn’t know what he expected despite his whole outlook on military men, big softies behind closed doors. Big on control outside of the bedroom but once with someone else, they just melt. They become as docile as a dog. Taking orders and obeying them without question. It’s just taken Dean a little too long to realize that that trope is best fit for him.

Not the angel that watches him idly with those blue eyes that are always so striking. Giving him a simple task so that he doesn’t think of the past couple of months.

“You should have let me come with you on your last job,” Cas admits.

“Too dangerous.”

Even hearing those words come form his own mouth, Dean knows they’re a lie. And by the furrowed brows that quickly turn his way tell him the angel didn’t buy it either. Not with his dick in hand.

“Too dangerous? Or didn’t want me in the way?”

Dean swallows thickly. This isn’t what he asked for. He didn’t want to think of the constant shit that he’s been through. He doesn’t realize he’s stopped stroking himself until Cas’s eyes venture down that way.

“Did I tell you to stop?” He asks.

“Look,” Dean starts. “I didn’t want you with bec- ah- AH!”

For the second time tonight, Dean is cut off by Cas. The angel wraps a firm hand around his dick and begins a quick pace. He smears his lube covered palm on the head of Dean’s cock before sliding it down the underside, to grip it firmly as he jerks back up and he repeats the notion multiple times.

Both of Dean’s hands fist into the blankets as he slams his head into the bed. His hips jerk upwards and it’s very hard to contain himself when Cas knows how to work him. He squeezes his eyes shut as his soft pants become erratic. There’s so much tension in his body that it doesn’t take long at all for him to tip over the edge.

He comes unexpectedly and he shakes violently as Cas continues to stroke his cock, pumping everything out of him. He smears Dean’s cum onto his dick, making a mess out of the hunter. Dean looks through bleary eyes, swallowing thickly as he tries to collect some air in his lungs again.

“Cas I-“ He swallows again, trying to find his words, “I need more. Don’t stop.”

At that, a small smile creeps upon the angel’s face. As if ecstatic to keep going. That Dean is asking him.

Cas’s filthy hand venture down past Dean’s balls to his ass. The hunter’s breath hitches as a single finger slides in with a little friction. It has been a while since he’s done this with anyone that each by pass of the angel’s touch is like electricity. He’s still coming down from his orgasm, but he shuffles his legs further apart as Cas strokes slowly, thrusting in and out and making sure that the pad of his finger curls into that delicate spot every time. The hunter shivers, his breath hitching at every prod at his prostate. He knows Dean. Inside and out.

After a while of teasing, a second is added and a third not too long after that. Dean digs his palms into his face as he arches his back off the bed. He tries to control the noises that unwantingly come from his throat, but he can’t stop himself. But it isn’t enough. It isn’t scratching that itch for him and it’s going to drive him nuts if Cas doesn’t fuck him right this instant.

“Come on, Cas,” Dean groans into his hands.

At that, a deep chuckle comes from the angel that had Dean’s heart beating all the faster. The fingers leave him but they venture up and give his balls a gentle squeeze. Dean grinds his teeth as he groans, exhaling shakily. The bed moves as Cas stands, his warm touch leaving the hunter. Bringing his hands away from his face, he gets a full view of the angel’s naked back.

His face heats up quickly. He feels like some school girl that hasn’t ever seen a boy naked before. But wouldn’t that be true? Dean ever rarely gets to see the tanned skin hiding under all those fancy layers the angel wears. He feels his mouth go dry as the belt and the pants are the next to be removed. Dean lets his eyes roam to every toned muscle the angel is letting him look upon. The almost, angelic moment doesn’t last long as Cas loops his belt once on itself and Dean is quick to realize what’s going to happen next.

“Hold out your hands.”

Dean complies silently to Cas’s gruff words. He holds his hands out together so that the angel can easily loop his belt around his wrists. He tightens it as tight as it can go, knowing damn well that Dean will twist out of them if he wants to. Once done, he pushes his wrists above his head so that Dean’s body lay outstretched before him. A beautiful sight.

Cas can’t resist to let his hands roam down Dean’s scarred chest. His thumbs dig into his pecs, feeling just how tense they are. He kneads and earns himself painful hisses from the hunter below him as he runs his knuckles into the muscle. But Dean doesn’t stop him. He becomes breathless as Cas moves down to his torso, doing the same that he did to his pecs. Massaging and driving his knuckles and fingers into tense muscle, easing out the knots that are bundled up. He avoids the dark bruise on his ribs, not wanting to harm Dean any more than he’s been put through. Cas would hate to feel his back.

The angel is well aware that he could heal Dean’s muscles. Heal everything so that the hunter feels brand new. Refreshed. But it’s the process that Dean needs. The hours out of his day to let someone touch him. Feel the warmth of someone else’s tender touch caressing away the tension that resides in his fibre. That seeps into his bones. He needs someone to grind it away until he’s nothing but dust.

The angel moves down to his thighs and does the same. Dean shakes and groans, throwing his head back into the bed. He clenches and unclenches his fists where they sit as Cas’s knuckles run down his inner thigh. He tries to shake the angel off by just how unbearable it is to dig a knot out, but Cas holds him with an iron grip. He trembles, but doesn’t dare kick the angel away. It hurts, it hurts so bad when Cas drags his thumb over a certain spot but it feels so good.

“I really should have come with you,” Cas comments.

“It’s fine.”

Only by sheer force is Dean able to grit words out through grinded teeth. He knows damn well he should’ve brought Cas along for the ride on the most recent one. It would have made things go a lot smoother and a damn lot less stressful when his little brother is being hanged upside down by his foot with five witches poking at him with sticks. It was a mess. The entire job was a mess, and it had left Dean drained. He just really hopes that Sam doesn’t come looking for him because he really needs this. By God, does he need this.

After Cas deems the second leg done, it’s only then that he touches Dean’s soft cock. The hunter hisses, jerking away at how sensitive he is but all in the same thought, he wants Cas to touch him harder, firmer. And the angel does just that. He jerks Dean’s messy cock to full attention again before he touches his own. He wipes Dean’s cum and the lube over his cock and by God, the hunter can’t look away. He’s never been one to let things get messy but right now it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Cas drizzles a little more lube on Dean’s puckered hole before resting the head of his cock against it. He isn’t gentle when he pushes in, not like he was with all that massaging crap before. He pushes almost half of his cock in before pulling out slowly to only sink further in the second time round. Dean shakes and whines as Cas is quick to bottom out inside of him. Balls flush to his ass and all six inches inside, Dean feels every bit.

He pants in time to Cas’s thrusts, quickly finding pleasure in the abuse that the angel is giving him. But it’s what he wanted. What he asked of the angel beforehand. It’s what caused the five-hundred-mile stare from said angel and nearly caused him to fall into cardiac arrest.

He pants loudly, keeping his hands above his head as Cas had silently requested. He really hopes that Sam isn’t on this side of the bunker because the noises that are coming from him are borderline whore-ish. Trembling with each thrust, Cas brings Dean’s hips back to his with a firm grip on his waist. The wet clap is overpowered by Dean’s breathless moans that have a shiver running down the angel’s back.

Deam brings his cuffed hands in front of him suddenly, to try and curl in on himself as he nears another orgasm. But a hand is quick to grab at the belt to pull Dean’s arms up over his head, startling him a bit. Cas doesn’t stop his brutal pace, pulling and pushing a thigh so that Dean’s knee is nearly touching his chest. The new angle has the hunter grunting and panting with each thrust, his eyes squeezed shut as he teeters at the edge of his second orgasm. He can already tell that this one is going to be painful.

It’s Cas leaning down and engulfing his lips in a wet kiss that has him coming for the second time that night. He gasps into the kiss and the angel delves in deeper, his tongue venturing into Dean’s mouth. He shakes and trembles in Cas’s touch, every nerve feeling like it’s on fire. He wraps his legs around the angel’s waist to hold him closer to him. He continues to keep a slowly, shallow pace that drives Dean insane. His brain feels like mush but… it’s still not enough.

Dean kisses back breathlessly, trying to capture air back into his lungs. He hooks a foot into the front of Cas’s waist after two failed attempts, his limps feeling like jelly. He pushes Cas away and the angel is easy to do so with no protest. He looks down at Dean with furrowed brows. He expects the hunter to call it quits. Enough is enough for tonight. But Dean flips himself over, face in the bedding with his cuffed hands above his head and his ass in the air.

“Don’t stop,” Dean’s voice comes muffled from the blanket. “I just- Cas, I need you to keep-“ He exhales shakily, still coming down from his second high.

Cas reaches out and massages Dean’s right cheek. The hunter flinches, groaning into the bed.

“I’ll keep going until you ask me to stop,” Cas says as his hands venture up and down Dean’s back. He does the same as he did with the hunter’s front, massaging and digging his knuckles into the knotted muscle. He does this until Dean is breathing heavily into the bed, body shaking with every touch. The angel can’t see, but there’s tears dampening the sheets under the hunter’s face.

The angel re-enters Dean slowly as he continues massaging the hunter’s scarred body. He’s slow and gentle, keeping his pace even as he does so.

A while goes by before Dean orders him to pick up the pace, his voice muffled in the blankets. He drags his hands underneath him, the blood circulation being cut off with how he was angled. He shudders a breath as Cas does as he’s asked, holding onto Dean’s waist as he fucks into him harder. A groan is punched out of Dean with each thrust that’s muffled by the blankets. He becomes a limp mess, the only thing holding him up being Cas’s tight hold on him.

He shakes and moans, panting and whining with each sensitive and painful thrust from Cas. It hurts. Everything burns from being used for far too long. But he just needs a little more. He doesn’t need another orgasm. He doesn’t crave it. Just the act itself of the pain and pleasure, of being used, is enough to melt his brain. He needs all thoughts to be jumbled. He doesn’t want to think.

The angel suddenly tremors, his breath hitching in his throat as he thrusts in deeply. He comes silently, the only noise being the heavy panting and breathing coming from the angel. Dean groans as Cas fucks himself through his own orgasm, using his own cum to ease the burning friction. He doesn’t stop, despite feeling Dean shaking beneath him.

Dean turns his head so that he can peer at Cas from the corner of his eye. His head is bowed, hair falling over his forehead as he concentrates on Dean. And only Dean. The hunter grinds his teeth at the thought, burying his face into the bedding once more.

He lets Cas use him until Dean can’t take it anymore. Until everything burns and until a third, dry orgasm is ripped from Dean that shakes his body. Everything becomes too much. His cock hurts and each movement from Cas is like sand paper.

“St- nah, stop.”

Dean voice is all but a whisper, but Cas hears it all the same. The angel stops instantly, letting Dean fall onto the bed with a shaky exhale coming from the hunter.

Cas is quick to reach under Dean and unbuckle his belt from his wrists, throwing it aside without a second thought. He flips Dean onto his side gently, looking the hunter over with thin lips. Bleary, hazy green eyes stare back at him before a cocky grin comes across his face. It’s faint, but it’s there. One that has Cas returning.

“Would you like me to heal you?” Cas asks softly, his voice still gruff and deep.

Dean swallows thickly, licking his dry lips. “Lemme just lay here for a bit.”

Cas nods before wandering off. Dean closes his eyes shut, concentrating on his breathing. He can’t think of anything. His body shakes and everything is oh so sensitive, but it’s probably the best he’s felt in months. He doesn’t even think he can stand let alone sit up right now. Doesn’t even feel like he can raise an arm, nor does he even want to. He’s lost track of time and damn be if Sam has been looking for him. He just needs a good nap after this now. He feels like he could sleep for days.

The bed dips again and Dean hisses softly as a cold, damp face cloth begins to clean him up. He lets Cas do his thing, not even bothering to open his eyes to look at him. When he feels the angel leave the bed, a sudden strike of panic washes over him.

“Stay,” he all but mumbles out, or may as well whined by the way his own voice sounded in his ears.

The bed dips again and a calloused hand runs down over his side, ghosting over the purple bruise. “Are you sure?”

Dean’s features furrow deeply. He reaches out blindly and grabs onto Cas’s knee. “I said stay,” he grumbles out.

He hears the angel chuckle softly. “Okay.”

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