#every time i take a step. what fucking planet do you live on .

[mcflymemes]

ALIEN (1979) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the film, adjust as necessary

the other members of the crew are dead.

this is the worst shit i've ever seen.

anybody ever tell you you look dead?

alien life form. looks like it's been dead a long time.

i should reach the frontier in about six weeks.

can you hear me?

what was your special order?

you read it. i thought it was clear.

what about our lives, you son of a bitch?

how do we kill it? there's gotta be a way of killing it.

that's bullshit.

you still don't understand what you're dealing with, do you?

you admire it.

look, i've heard enough of this, and i'm asking you to pull the plug.

i can't lie to you about your chances, but... you have my sympathies.

something has attached itself to him.

we have to get him to the infirmary right away.

wait a minute. if we let it in, the ship could be infected.

you know the quarantine procedure. twenty-four hours for decontamination.

listen to me. if we break quarantine, we could all die.

look, could you open the goddamned hatch?

i can't do that, and if you were in my position, you'd do the same.

this is an order.

the ship will automatically destruct in t-minus five minutes.

you bitch!

you are my lucky star.

i find that hard to believe.

what would you like me to do?

i'll get my own answers, thank you.

some of you may have figured out we're not home yet. we're only halfway there.

what kind of transmission?

you were gonna leave us out there!

when i give an order, i expect it to be obeyed.

unless somebody has got a better idea, we'll proceed with [name]'s plan.

oh no. you're out of your mind.

i say that we abandon ship!

we take our chances and just hope somebody will pick us up.

i'm for killing that goddamn thing right now.

will you listen to me, [name]?

you don't know that.

that's the only way.

we'll go step by step and cut off every bulkhead and every vent until we have it cornered, and then we'll blow it the fuck out into space.

is that acceptable to you?

that's amazing. what is it?

please don't do that. thank you.

you let him in.

by breaking quarantine, you risk everybody's life.

maybe i should have left him outside.

maybe i've jeopardized the rest of us, but it was a risk i was willing to take.

i do take my responsibilities are seriously as you, you know.

you do your job, and let me do mine.

you remember anything about the planet?

what's the last thing you do remember?

we're on our way home!

i don't trust him.

i don't trust anybody.

it's a robot!

let's get the hell out of here.

there is an explanation for this, you know.

i'm sorry, can i say something?

we don't know if it's intelligent.

i wanna go home and party.

you don't dare kill it.

how long before the ship blows?

why don't you just fuck off?

it looks like a warning.

i can't see a goddamn thing.

get out of the room!

the first thing i am going to do when i get back is get some decent food.

open the door!

oh god, it's moving right towards you!

get out of there! behind you! move!

this place gives me the creeps.

whatever it was, it was big.

i'll get the shuttle ready.

wait a minute. there's movement.

where's earth?

something's different down here.

it's got to be around there somewhere.

[buppypuppy]

the way my mom behaves is so fucking strange. girl you tell me to tell you about my problems but every time i tell you about my problems you treat me like i'm insane and overreacting and exaggerating . why the hell do you think i hate talking to you .

[rinniessance]

DADDY'S FAVORITE GIRL ༊*·˚ - step dad!gojo x fem!reader

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to in the summer is a new step-dad. and you do not like the dangerous glint in his eyes every time he looks at you.

꒰ warnings: nsfw - dark content - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ non-curse au. step dad!gojo, stepcest, age difference (reader is implied to be 21, gojo is in his late 30s), dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, cheating, heavy daddy kink, so many pet names (babygirl, pretty, doll, princess etc.), slight dacraphyllia, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption kink. plot is kinda messy 'cause i was rushing to get to the smut, sowwy ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.1k ꒱ ꒰ notes: i am freely being my most disgusting self, thank you for supporting my little insane brain .ᐟ.ᐟ꒱

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to during summer break is a new step-dad. ever since your parents divorced when you were 14, your mom has been single – your teenage years, she dedicated herself to you, protecting you from your scumbag father, focusing on your future. you even agreed to delay your college admittance until you were 20, taking two gap years after your high school to stay at your hometown with her. your mom has the worst case of separation anxiety – which is why maybe you should’ve been more concerned when she gradually stopped texting you as the days went on. you assumed the best – maybe she found a hobby, maybe she reconnected with old friends, maybe she finally realized you are an adult and stopped babying you every waking moment. what you did not expect is for her to get married.

these are the thoughts running through you head as you stand in the middle of your living room, fresh out the airport, gawking at the man sleeping on the couch, and wonder how the fuck that happened. you would’ve honestly screamed and thought this was a squatter, or a robber, if not for all the wedding pictures obnoxiously decorating almost every available surface (god, how many photos do you need?). you try not to think too much about it – the flight was 6 hours, you barely got any sleep sitting to the smelliest man on the planet, and you just want to take a shower and go to bed. just as you start walking off, the front door swings open.

“oh my god, sweetheart, you’re home!” your mom’s voice booms through the quiet room resonating like a thunderclap in the middle of a still field. she runs to you, immediately pulling you into a hug which you happily return. you’re genuinely delighted to see her, albeit feeling a little weirded out by a man she decided to bring home. your mother looks over to the couch, man’s sleeping figure not moving once, and sighs with exasperation. “i assume he didn’t pick you up?”

“no but it’s okay…” you whisper quietly and gesture towards the figure on the couch with your head, “about that, though…”

“yeah, honey, i know, i am sorry i didn’t tell you. everything has been happening so quickly, i haven’t even had time to process it myself!” she squealed like a school girl. “his name is satoru gojo and we met at the charity event i went to six months ago.”

“since when do you attend charity events?” you ask, quirking the brow upwards.

“oh, i didn’t know what to do with myself ever since you moved out so i’ve been trying anything and everything. and look, the results have been phenomenal!” she giggled, frustration she had towards her husband about not picking you up melting away in front of your eyes. god, he really had her wrapped around his finger.

“okay, well, i am kind of tired so i wanted to go to bed. is it okay if we talk about this tomorrow?”

your mom suddenly looks down at her feet, a little embarrassed. what did she do.

“yes, about that… that room was sitting unutilized the whole time you were away so satoru and i thought it would be a good idea to remake it into a home office, kind of. your bed is still in there though! so you can sleep in the room no problem.”

“mom, what the fuck…” you whine. not only your room with all your memories and all your personality was gone and demolished, you now have to sleep in the room that was most likely used by him. “home office” my ass, you thought – your mom would not need it in a million years, and by the way she’s avoiding your gaze in shame, it was definitely not her idea.

“i’m sorry baby, but you’ve been away and…”

you interrupt her with a wave of your hand.

“whatever, i’m too tired to think about it. i’ll take a shower and go to bed, i don’t wanna deal with him until tomorrow,” you sigh with frustration and walk off into your home office, dropping your things on the floor.

what you don’t see as you walk off is the dangerous glint in satoru’s eyes as he listens to every bits of your conversation. you said the last sentence with so much poison, he thinks it might’ve struck him dead. gojo knows it will be difficult to get on your good side now but he likes to play these games on hard mode.

oh, you will be so much fun to break.

gojo satoru is a patient man – when he really wants something, he is content to wait until he gets it. that being the main reason why he approaches you slowly. it’s the next day after you arrive that he has a chance to introduce himself properly.

you leave the room after having the best night’s sleep – you really didn’t mind waking up in the office today, you must’ve been too tired to think straight and threw a fit yesterday. you make a mental note to apologize to your mom later. as you turn into the kitchen, you’re met with the view you wish did not have such a strong effect on you – your step-dad, freshly out of the shower, grey sweatpants low riding on his hips, is preparing what seems to be breakfast.

you’re so fucked.

you try to shake off the feeling of arousal washing over you. you may not have had a chance to have any sexual experiences yet, but you’re not that much of a virgin not to know when you’re feeling horny. you just wish it wasn’t due to the incredibly hot step-dad. the left-over frustration from previous night bubbles up like over spilled champagne and you decide to keep your distance. anger helps you keep yourself grounded, and you maneuver around the man to make breakfast, but you see that he prepared it for you already.

“oh, thank you,” you say quietly as he extends the plate to you.

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

the nickname sends a shiver down your spine.

gojo turns to face you and gives you his breathtaking smile. you want to choke on your toast.

“i wanted to apologize for not picking you up yesterday. your mom told me so much about you, and i was excited to meet her ‘favorite girl’,” his eyes spark with a dangerous glint at the nickname, making you shrink into yourself, “but my work held me up, and then i think i went for a quick nap and… uh… ended up falling asleep,” he says with a light chuckle.

“that’s okay, i didn’t really mind the train ride,” you respond with visible discomfort,

he now stands next to you by the counter, his body heat palpable, melting over you like a scorching son. gojo’s all-teeth smile is gorgeous, frustratingly enough, but it makes your skin crawl: like a prey walking into the carefully designed trap, you can feel your gut asking you to run. it makes sense your mom fell for him so easily.

“will you let me make up for it? let’s go our for a dinner, i’m sure your mom would be delighted to hear we’re trying to get along.”

“i don’t know, i haven’t seen my friends in some time, i think i’ll be hanging out with them for a while,” you shuffle from leg to leg, trying to move away

“that’s okay, we have a whole summer ahead.”

for some reason it felt more like a threat than a promise.

you smile politely back, not knowing what to say, rushing to finish your breakfast. the image of your step-dad, half-naked in your family kitchen talking to you about his plans with you for the whole summer should be weird – it’s difficult to find it weird when the said step-dad is criminally hot, unfortunately.

“i think i’ll go now, thanks for the breakfast,” gojo’s gives you a smile so sweet, it somehow triggers a toothache, and waves you off. since yesterday, he’s been making you feel extremely on edge for no apparent reason, it’s driving you a little insane.

when you come back home that evening, you are greeted by both your mom and satoru with the dinner ready. she babbles about how great of a cook he is, and that she can’t wait until you try it. you politely decline citing that you’re full and quickly leave for your room – satoru’s blue eyes were looking at you with almost an animalistic stare, and you hated that you liked it.

gojo thought things were going well with you – he’s given you the space you need in the first two weeks after you arrived. your mom was overjoyed seeing how deeply satoru already cared about you – making sure you eat in the morning, not letting you go to bed without a meal, always checking on you throughout the day, keeping you safe. you, however, thought it was… weird, if anything, that he was all around you this intensely.

“oh, honey, that’s just how he shows that he cares. he was like that with me as well,” your mom tells you one of the nights when you bring it up. it worries you how easily she takes his side now and wonder if something else is going on.

satoru picks you up when you stay out too late, to the wee hour of the night when the subways stop running; he makes sure you have your nights with your mom, when he doesn’t intrude on your backyard conversations and only adores you pretty features from his second-floor window; he learns what movies and music and tv you like, trying to decipher the person that is you.

he’s been putting all this effort to get to know your every step – then why the fuck does he find you one night you kissing some random boy on your driveway?

you said you were going out today and no pickup was needed – now it makes sense why.

gojo satoru is a patient man. but even his patience can start running thin, trickling like water through cracks in the fingers. hourglass of his kindness has been half full for a while now – it’s about time the sand runs out.

you think a boy like him can give you what satoru can? just you wait and see.

kitchen is uncharacteristically quiet when you walk in. it’s the next morning, and usually by now, satoru would be making breakfast for you. his job is still unknown – you are not sure if he was suddenly called in but the feeling of happy solitude falls over you, even if for a moment.

your mom is gone at least for two weeks for work, you’re dreading the moment you have to be left alone with your step-dad. the look in his eyes yesterday was dangerous, a predator appraising its victim before sinking its teeth in, and you’re happy megumi was able to leave quickly after walking you home. surprisingly, gojo didn’t say you a word when you walked into the house, silently sitting in front of the tv like he didn’t just spy through the window on your kiss with the boy.

air in the room was heavy with tension – you knew satoru was avoiding looking your way, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists. instinctively, you wanted to break the silence, say something to discharge the electricity jumping through the atoms of your stuffy living room air, but ultimately decided against it. you have nothing to say to a man, and it’s not like you needed to justify your actions in front of him anyways. you quickly retreated into the office and avoided him until you fell asleep.

when you woke up to an empty apartment not even fifteen minutes ago, you felt relief. walking into the kitchen and confirming your presence alone, you even felt happy. then what is this weird feeling, almost as if you are missing something, nagging at you? you thought of going out today but now a strange desire to stay at home washes over.

you make breakfast for the first time since you came home (gojo didn’t skip a single day, you have no idea how he kept up with that), and you chastise yourself for feeling weird about cooking for yourself; and you chastise yourself again when your mind lingers on the thoughts of a certain white-haired man; and again when you look at your phone, convincing yourself it’s a bad idea to text him. god, you feel so stupid. didn’t you want him to stop being so unsettlingly sweet and dotting around you all the time?

conflicted by your irrationality once again, you frustratingly take your plate and sit down on the couch. flipping through the netlifx previews, you land on something to distract your mind by. you settle on some true crime documentary and let the horrors on the screen consume you, abandoning for a moment the thoughts plaguing your head.

you’ve been glued to the screen for at least two hours before you heard the jiggle of the keys. like an eager puppy, you waited for gojo to come inside and greet you like he would every day – only for him to completely ignore your presence, beelining straight for the kitchen. turning your head back to the tv, you try your best not to pay any attention to the uncharacteristic behavior from satoru’s end.

“i will be in the home office the whole day, don’t enter.”

before you can respond anything back, your step-dad is already walking off without sparing you a second glance. is he still upset from yesterday? you didn’t think kissing megumi would be that much of a deal. your nervously play with the hem of the blanket, show playing on tv long forgotten, contemplating what you should do next. why are you bothered by his silence this much anyways?

rethinking your earlier choice, you send a quick text to your friend asking to meet you for drinks. maybe right now gojo needs space, or whatever, and leaving him alone is the best next thing right now. you knock at the door of the home office.

“sorry, i am going out now and need to quickly change.”

not even 5 seconds pass before the door is swung open by a man that’s been occupying too much of your mental space today.

“be quick,” is the only response you get before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. you’re perplexed by this sudden change in behavior yet again. throwing on the first decent outfit you can find, you let gojo know that you’re done and will be home later; hum is the only acknowledgment you get before he disappears in the office.

exiling all the thoughts of satoru gojo from your head, you leave your house, hoping tomorrow will put all the pieces of the puzzle back together.

yet the next day comes, and you still wake up to no warmth from satoru – it felt as if he built a wall between the two of you in one night’s span, impossible to be breached. should you talk to him? should you apologize? and apologize for what? you didn’t do anything wrong, did you? ignoring the gnawing feeling inside once more, you retreat to the living room, sulking on the couch until the end of the day, clawing onto the hope gojo of tomorrow will acknowledge your existence.

“did i do something wrong?”

you stand in the doorway to gojo’s office, arms crossed over your chest. he lazily turns his head your way as if giving you even a second of his time is too much of a bother – the look he sends you is burning through your core, making you pathetically weak and wet.

“no,” he starts slowly, “do you think you did something wrong?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i’m asking. you’ve been ignoring me for the past week, and it’s getting weird.”

“i thought i’d leave you alone, it seems you’re capable of having fun on your own.”

satoru is looking back to his screen now, and you scrunch your eyebrows, frustrated by the riddles he’s throwing your way. walking inside the room, your close the door on instinct and take wide steps to stand in front of him.

“stop answering me like this, we’re not playing a charade. what do you mean?” the demand in your voice is clear, and it twists something inside satoru – his gaze falls on you again yet this time it’s dark, taunting, dangerous, with a hint of chaos. it scares and excites you.

gojo suddenly stands up, and pushes you into his desk until you’re sitting on it. he is tall – your mom basically married a giant – and you try to curl into yourself to escape his malicious eyes.

“what, i thought you wanted me to leave your alone? you want my attention now all of a sudden?” he respond with the question of his own in a mocking tone.

“i never said i wanted you to ignore me…” you answer meekly, yelping slightly as your back hits his desk – you suddenly realize there is nowhere to run now.

“really? we’ve been together in a house for almost a month now, and yet you showed no interest in getting to know me.”

“’m sorry…” you cannot think of anything else to say. gojo moves even closer, and is now towering over you – it makes you embarrassingly horny.

“show me how sorry you are.”

before you can respond, he is caging your body with his and capturing your lips in a kiss, and you freeze – all of this is so wrong, you cannot bring yourself to start moving your mouth against his. gojo’s tongue coerces its way inside, exploring the undiscovered paths, his teeth biting your still lips. closing your eyes, you whimper and try to push him away but he only catches your wrists with his one hand, while the other plays with the hem of your shorts. a gasp escapes your lips, and you push yourself further into the desk, squirming under gojo’s body.

“what, you don’t like it? i thought my little girl wanted daddy’s attention?” he torments you, voice condescending and thick with mockery. all you can muster is a pathetic mewl, words lost somewhere inside your throat, and dig your fingers into the edge of your desk as your step-dad forces his digits inside your panties, lightly brushing against your clit.

“god, you’re already so wet, so filthy,” he whispers between the heated kisses as the pads of his fingers keep teasing your pussy. “tell me, babygirl, are you still a virgin? gotta know how to treat you.”

“y-yes…”

“well, am i just not the luckiest?” gojo chuckles darkly, spreading your legs with his thigh. unoccupied hand goes to grip your hip while the fingers on the other are still working your clit, sliding the digits between your puffy lips, teasing your hole. every time he circles around the entrance and mocks by pushing his finger just slightly inside, the moan builds up in your throat, and you’re too embarrassed to let it out.

“common, baby, your daddy wants to hear you, don’t hide your pretty voice from me.”

gojo is infuriatingly good with his fingers – you could never bring yourself this much pleasure from playing with your clit, and your defiance starts melting away as you find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, whining pitifully. the man completely removes your shorts and underwear, shoving the latter into his pocket – something to remember this moment by.

“god, such a pretty pussy, i can’t believe you’ve been hiding it from me. take off your shirt so i can see all of you, princess.”

immense desire pools between your legs, hunger and lust evident in satoru’s cerulean eyes, now hidden by dilated pupils, and you’re surrendering yourself to him – want makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong. you remove the top, nipples perked and waiting. gojo looks at you in wonder and disbelief – all of that for him? his hand went to squeeze your boob almost on an instinct, rolling the nipple between the pads of his fingers, while sucking on another with his mouth. you drop your head back, losing yourself to the intense pleasure your step-dad’s giving you. seeing as you’re distracted by him playing with your tits, he takes this as his chance to shove two of his fingers inside.

a strangled moan leaves your lips, your hands gripping man’s shoulders.

“ahhh, that hurts, satoru.”

“nah-uh, that’s not what i want to hear you calling me,” he straightens himself and starts scissoring you with his digits. the initial intrusion is painful, you can feel your virgin walls stretching to accommodate for how he’s dragging the fingers in and out, yet the burn is woefully delightful, and you’re getting lost again.

“’m sorry daddy.”

gojo only chuckles – god, you were easier than he expected, so well-behaved and pliable under him.

“that’s right, let daddy take good care of you.”

he speeds up the pace, curling his slender, pretty fingers, brushing the spots you were never able to reach with your own. wet, soggy sounds fill the entirety of the room, air already stuffy with smell of sex as he continues to finger-fuck your pussy. gojo could feel his cock twitching in his pants, he wanted to take you right there and then, but he was determined to make you cum on his digits first – it prompts him to attach his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot below your jawline, marking you as his.

your mewling turns louder, breathing is getting labored, and it seems your hips have a mind of their own now as they are bucking into satoru’s movements, fucking yourself how you need it. something akin to orgasm starts building up in your tummy – it has never felt this all-consuming, you wonder if you’ve been touching yourself wrong all this time.

“daddy, please don’t – ah! – stop,” is everything you can say in a measly attempt to ask him to speed up. his thumb finds your neglected clit, rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves, and picks up the pace, cunt now clenching even tighter around his two fingers, and gojo groans thinking how you’d feel around his aching dick. he adds a third finger – it’s angled so perfectly assault your special spongy spot, it turns your brain into a mush.

gojo pinches your nipple, kissing you to swallow all the lewd moans to himself.

“is my princess close?”

“yes daddy, ‘m so close.”

“common, cum all over my fingers, baby.”

these words finally push you over the edge – your climax washes over you like a cold morning shower, leaving you trembling in gojo’s hold. your legs are trying to close to stop the man from continuing his abuse on your twitching pussy but he is too lost in the feeling of your walls constricting around his fingers to allow you to do that. he fucks you through your orgasm, bringing you to the realm of overstimulation.

“ahh, daddy, please, it hurts now,” you whine with teary voice, beads of salty water gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“shhhh, daddy knows best, yeah? let me feel you a little longer.”

gojo keeps his pace until you’re clawing at his arm, trying to pull away your pussy from his fingers. he grabs you by the back of your head, bruising your lips with the intensity of his kiss – you’re sure he draws blood by how he bites your lower lip, licking the messy aftermath. you’re still whining and mewling, trails of tears finally flowing down your face, and he’s sure he’s never seen anything hotter as he licks the salty tracks.

“you’ve done so good, babygirl, i think you’re ready for the main gift,” satoru says and finally withdraws his fingers. the emptiness is welcoming yet disappointing, and you groan. gojo quickly unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, alongside his boxer briefs, and you almost choke on your spit when you see how well-endowed he is. you don’t have a lot to compare it to but you think his cock is beautiful – it's long and slender, and uncut, prominent vein running all the way from the base to just underside of his head, and you get an immeasurable desire to run your tongue along it.

“is my pretty doll drooling jus’ at the sight of my dick?” he mockingly asks you, making you turn your gaze away. gojo chuckles again, and grabs you by your chin, pulling your head down.

“no looking away, darling, i want you to see how i take your virginity.”

with no other option, you keep your gaze peeled downwards, to where gojo strokes himself couple of times before lining himself up with your leaking hole. despite all the preparation and your previous orgasm, you’re still incredibly tight and satoru groans as he starts pushing himself inside. you can see his smooth cockhead bullying his way into you, stretching your greedy walls – man feels you pulsating around him, and that makes him twitch.

“fuck, princess, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

gojo finally sinks all the way in, your cervix being met in a kiss by a swollen tip, and you moan, sound almost pornographic. your step-dad doesn’t let you adjust before he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in – he doesn’t go easy on you for your first time, setting up a brutal pace, not caring if you’re ready to take him fully yet. it stings, and you have to hold yourself on gojo’s shoulder’s as he starts fucking into you. his hands are on your hips, guiding them to meet his thrusts.

“daddy please, ‘ts too much,” you cry out but satoru is all too lost in how your gummy walls perfectly hug his swollen cock. he doesn’t respond, shutting you up by forcing his tongue into his mouth yet again, sucking on every piece of available flesh. slowly, the tension in your body melts away and gives way to a new kind of pressure – the one building up in your tummy. you’re shocked at how fast your body is able to start getting on the road to blissful ecstasy again but you’re not complaining.

“shit, are you getting close already, babygirl? i can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me again.”

“yes, sorry daddy.”

“there is nothing to be sorry about, just means your daddy’s doing a good job,” he says with a grin, keeping up the pace, rutting into your sloppy cunt. queefing sounds and slapping of skin on skin make you blush furiously yet you can’t take away your gaze from where satoru keeps burying himself inside you.

the girth of gojo’s cock is deadly – not only he’s able to reach the spongy spot almost immediately, making white spots dancing across your vision, kaleidoscope of pleasure lighting up your every nerve ending, he is also bruising your cervix just with enough pressure to make you twitch in delight. his pubic bone grinds against your puffy clit and it’s setting up fireworks against your skin, hot molten lava igniting your whole being.

your moaning becomes uncontrollable as satoru’s fucking you in an animalistic pace – he keeps splitting you open, the spread of legs is slowly growing uncomfortable.

“look how good you’re taking me, being such a good girl for me,” he’s babbling, edging himself too – he wants to feel you spasming around his cock, he cannot let himself cum before that. “gonna feel so good cumming inside, pretty. give you a cute little brother or sister, huh? what do you think? i bet you’ll look so gorgeous being pregnant with my baby.”

“no, daddy, you can’t do that…”

“hm, why? just imagine, you walking around, with my child inside your belly, all cute and swollen for me, tits full of milk. wouldn’t you want that?”

you hiccup a sob as gojo keeps dragging his heavy cock in and out of you, the vein you saw before pressing against your walls deliciously, and you feel your toes start to curl as your body chases after the second orgasm. you dig your nails into his biceps, certain to leave half moon marks on his porcelain skin, and bite your lip. in turn, he is pressing his fingers against the plum skin of your hips, marking you with bruises to remind you of this tomorrow.

“shit, i haven’t fucked your cunny for that long yet it’s already perfectly snuggled around me. i’m training it fast, huh? i’m gonna teach it to fit only me,” you can hear the grin in his voice as he says that.

gojo feels your walls tighten around him – he can see you’re teetering on the edge of climax, whining and moaning under the man, letting him completely use you – so he picks up the speed, assaulting your abused pussy. it doesn’t take longer than that for the tension in your tummy to snap, and you’re wantonly crying out satoru’s name.

“fuck, dollface, you’re squeezing me so perfectly right now. want to milk me for all i’ve got?”

you’re cock drunk, unable to respond to him, hoping your mewling will be enough for the man to see he fucked you stupid. he is not showing signs of slowing down – you can only continue whining as satoru chases after his own pleasure. he pistons his hips couple of times more, and you can feel him throbbing inside as he shoots creamy ropes of cum inside you, painting your womb white. the ring of mixed fluids at the bottom of his cock drives him insane, and he continues fucking his cum into you.

“shit baby, can’t waste a single drop now, can we.”

you’re letting out a quiet sob, pleasure too overwhelming and almost feverish, still unable to find your voice. when he deems it satisfactory that his seed is all warm inside you, gojo finally pulls out and kisses the top of your head.

“i’d say this was a good practice run, what do you say? your mom only comes back in a week, i’ll make you my personal cumdump until then.”

you snap your head up at his words, the smile playing on your step-dad’s face borderline sinister. you think it’s supposed to make you scared, then why is your pussy already twitching around nothing?

“yes daddy, anything for you.”

[evvyyypeters-fics]

A Ghost In the Bed

Perv!Tate Langdon x dom!f!reader oneshot

Warnings! Pure smut, porn w/ zero plot, masturbation (male), handjob, obsession, pantie fucking, femdom, a lil mommy kink, humiliation

In honor of it being officially Murder House season (to me at least) I bring u this masterpiece I created. Inspired mainly by @fear-is-truth

It was the blood moon tonight, and suspiciously every time the sun dipped under the horizon and the moon glared down onto the cold ambience of autumn, Tate’s libido sky rocketed. His eternal teenage hormones spiking to a point that was unbearable. And it didn’t help now that you were living in the infamous ‘Murder House’, Tate’s obsession with you dark and lustrous like the red glow of the other-worldly planet.

You were out at a friend’s house tonight, Tate had overheard you asking your mom to go, and she obliged as usual. Needing you so desperately, he craved. Imagining your soft skin, biting it, tasting it’s warmth. Feeling it tingle through his cold, dead soul. The harmonic string of melodies that he could pull from your throat as he buries himself in your flesh, caressing it, pounding you. Even the way your tits rested under your shirt, your cleavage peaking sometimes and sending sparks through his body, or the view of your ass as you walked up the stairs, always making sure he followed behind you just to see it and hopefully a glimpse of your panties that day from under your skirt. The ghostly feeling of his imaginations traveling straight to his cock, twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He needed relief, and he needed it bad. If only you were there to help him, if only he knew you wanted to help him.

At first his mind muttered silent prayers that you wouldn’t somehow find him desperately rutting into your favorite pair of cotton panties, his hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as he used the soft fabric to create a strangely pleasurable friction, his pre-cum soaking them with the perfect amount of lube.

The sounds were obscene, yet muffled by the cloth. On the other hand, his moans were not. Shamelessly he whined, whimpering obscenely as he came closer and closer to the edge, using his fantasies of you as fuel as he fist fucked into your panties like a bunny in heat, but there was no final wave. No release, just the aching feeling of the weight of his hard cock, pounding. He was starting to get too desperate, his thoughts drowning as all he wanted anymore was for you to save him from this torment. He didn’t care if you hated him for it, he just needed your touch. Your comfort. To cum.

“Tate…?” A familar voice chirped curiously, the door creaking open.

Shit. He thought. You were back early.

He instantly sat up, hiding his proud cock with a nearby pillow resting on your bed. His face was beat red, his eyes watery and skin persperating with small beads of sweat. Pupils blown, his jaw slack as he stutters an excuse than hangs from the tip of his tongue, it’s clear what happened. Tate was ready for the scream, the insults, the anger, the disgust. But there was none, you surely looked surprised, but he couldn’t see any distain in your staring eyes.

“Why are you back? You weren’t supposed to be back yet!” He blurts out a little loudly, his voice trembling. He didn’t mean to be accusatory, you knew.

“I got bored and wanted to come home..” You reply slowly, taking invisble steps closer towards the bed.

“You know…what are you doing in my bed, Tate?” You ask, wanting to taunt him in his vulnerable state, see how far you can push him and make him melt even more into a puddle. He shivers as he begins to notice the growing warmth of your body leaning closer to his frozen position on your mattress. Hoping your eyes don’t look down at the conspicuous pillow, anxiety striking his heart as just in that moment you do. There’s something predatory in it that makes his spine shiver.

“N-Nothing. I just…missed you.” The words are forcefully calm and monotone, trying to sound casual. A dumb excuse he came up with spontaneously that you both knew didn’t work to hide anything.

“You missed me, huh?” You smile devilishly as you press a hand in the mattress next to him, his whole body lighting on fire, his breathing begins to labor with the pure lava of lust flowing to his dick. Your hand mere inches away from where he needed you most.

“Is that all?” He swallowed thickly, his eyes darting from your hand to your gleaming eyes.

“I—uh.” He chokes on his words. “N-no..” He admits shamefully, his gaze tilting away.

“Do you want me to help you fix it?” You lean into his ear, whispering hotly against it which makes his face light up pinker, every hair on his body on end.

He swallows thickly again before nodding.

“Use your words, puppy.” You croon, pinching his chin between your fingers and gently forcing his glossy coffee eyes to look at you.

“P-Please.” He whines, causing your heart to squeeze a little.

“Good boy. Let mommy see.” You smile slyly, pulling away your hand as he lays back comfortably into the mattress, removing the pillow from over his length as you climb beside him. Kneeling over his legs.

“So naughty.” You tease as you pull away the sticky pair of panties wrapped around his shaft, precum beading thickly at his tip as he twitches from the touch or lack thereof.

His hips automatically jerk up, trying to reach your hand as you pull away the material. A small giggle slips past your lips that makes him whine into a bitten lip.

“Poor baby, all worked up, I won’t tease you any longer.” You coo, prodding a pad of your finger at the practically purple pillowy head.

He instantly lets out a muffled gutteral moan, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the pathetic sounds as you wrap your hand around him. Collecting the slick and coating his cock with it as you start a leisurly pace that slowly picks up, leading him to buck into your fist wildly.

“Let me hear you, puppy.” You say softly, watching between his perfect cock and his adorable face as he tries to hide the very obvious sounds bellowing from his throat. “Let me hear those pretty sounds you make.” Forcing a gutteral sound to spill from his lips as you press a finger into the sensitive head.

Your words make his heart and brain melt, the feeling of your hand on him being even better than he anticipated. He can feel himself getting closer, hips slamming at the same pace as your fist, pre-cum drooling over your hand as he moans pathetically. The sound of his voice getting thicker and more desperate, his muscles tensing.

“Cum for me, puppy. C’mon, let it all out.” You soothe, something clicks in his brain and he instantly busts, long and thick milky ropes shoot out, more than you thought was possible and drawing a long moan from his lips as his head pushed back into the pillow behind it. His thighs shuddered, toes curled until the ropes subsided and rested coated on your hand and his cock.

“Feel better?” You ask, slowly removing your hand as he comes down from the high.

Practically drunk on pleasure and blissed-out, he nods silently.

“Good. Next time, maybe just ask me first before jerking off into my panties.” You scold light-heartedly as you raise up the half-crusted fabric to the culprit’s gaze and he quickly hides his blushing face guiltily.

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re @xrag-dollx @lacucarachapisser @alittleobsessedbitch

[redstarwriting]

the clash | iv. london calling

hobie brown x goth!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: enemies to lovers

warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, smoking weed, alcohol, mentions of a gwen canon event, mentions of death, lil angst

a/n: nother long one! i can’t wait to make it crazy angsty bc when i tell u i have THOUGHTS 👀 thank you to everyone who’s reading, i’m trying to update it every day, so hopefully i can stick with that schedule! enjoy this chapter, friends :)

now reading: iv. london calling

previous chapter: iii. black planet

next chapter: v. ever fallen in love

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He fixes his watch to open a portal to his world. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr basically run to get to it. He motions for you to go ahead, and you walk through. Immediately when you step into his room, you’re hit with the smell of weed and incense. You’d be lying if you said you hated it. You glance around. You see drums, another electric and acoustic guitar, empty spray paint cans, spray paint on the walls, stacks of newspapers (all defaced in some way)… it feels very Hobie to say the least. “Now this. This is a livin’ area,” he says, appearing behind you. You shake your head. “So loud, both figuratively and literally. How do you ever get anything done?”

“By being louder than everyone else, obviously,” he responds, and you roll your eyes. “What a way to live,” you remark. “Better than that quiet, dark, and gloomy, way,” he retorts, and you shrug. “If you say so.”

“Hey, Hobie, do you still have the roof all decorated?” Gwen asks and he nods. “Course I do. I own the place, head on up,” he jerks his head upwards, and Gwen turns to Miles and Pavitr with a smirk. “Race ya!”

“Hey no fair! You have been here so many times!” Pavitr yells as Gwen takes off. “Come on, Miles!” you hear her yell. Miles smiles gently and shakes his head before going after the two of them. “He’s so obsessed with her it’s making me sick,” you mumble, and Hobie snorts. “What? Miles and Gwen’s relationship too much for you? You hate love?”

“Love has never done anything but cause me pain. And not the good kind,” you glance at him with a frown, and he raises his eyebrow. Suddenly his eyes get wide. “Oh shit… you had a Gwen canon event.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you respond, and he frowns. “You know, actually talkin’ about that kinda shit is a good way to not sit on it and let it build. You could face some serious problems if you keep doin’ that.”

“Who said I gave a fuck what you think? I didn’t ask for the unneeded advice, alright?” you say, and he narrows his eyes at you. “Oh, right. Forgot I was dealing with a bloody doughnut,” he mumbles and point to the window. “Care to go to the roof and get out of my sight?”

“Sound like the best thing you’ve said since I got here,” you say, leaping out of his window and climbing up the side of the building. While clinging to the wall, you glance out at Hobie’s world. His city looks almost exactly like Night of Yore City, except for the fact that there are a shit ton of fires burning, over half of the buildings look abandoned, the sky is a reddish-orangish hue, and it is so much louder. The name is also vastly different, as his version of NYC is New London. Universal differences get weird and confusing. Nonetheless, you’re intrigued, you turn around, putting your back against the wall and supporting yourself with your hands and feet. The graffitied buildings are a nice touch, you must admit. You snort to yourself when you see a mural of Hobie. If only they knew the asshole behind the mask.

“Now why the hell aren’t you up there with everyone else?” you hear his voice pull you out of your thoughts as he crawls up next to you. You shrug. “I’m a sucker for views, I guess.”

“Well, believe it or not, view is a lot better from the top of the buildin’,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “Can I please just be secluded and observe in peace?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Come on,” he says, starting to walk up the wall. You sigh and lazily roll backwards and up the wall to come to standing and follow him up. When you get to the top of the roof, you see a boombox (blaring punk music, of course) and blankets surrounding a barrel with a fire going in it. Multiple coolers decorate the roof which all look stockpiled full of different beers. “Hey, Hobie, you know that they’re all kids, right?”

“New universe, new rules, love. Drinking age is 16 and up ‘round here, not that I’d give a fuck if it wasn’t anyway. So, sit down, shut up, and drink a damn beer. Maybe you’ll loosen up,” he says, tossing you a random bottle. You roll your eyes and sit down but put the beer to the side.

“Hey, Hobie, do you have any of that–” Miles gets cut off by Hobie tossing him another bottle. “Nice. Thanks, dude,” he says excitedly, cracking the top and taking a drink. Gwen gets her beer of choice, and Pavitr does the same. Hobie, you notice, doesn’t drink anything. “So, what were you guys talking about?” Gwen asks, pointing between the two of you with her bottle. “What?” you ask, and she shrugs. “You guys were alone in Hobie’s for a while and no one died, soooo did you guys finally talk about something you could agree on?”

“We can’t agree on nothin’, Gwen. They were just bein’ their usual self and annoyin’ the shit out of me at any chance they could get,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “Good to know it worked, mate”

“Stop imitatin’ me, poser.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I’ll make you.”

“Try me, Hobart.”

“Alright, that’s enough of that. What were you guys talking about?” Miles asks, and you and Hobie look at each other. “Just asked where the bathroom was,” you say, and he nods. “Yeah. That’s it.”

You weren’t necessarily ready to reveal you faced the Gwen canon event. Especially not to another Gwen. At least Hobie isn’t enough of a dick to bring it up in front of them. “Oh, yeah, you did change into your everyday clothes. Don’t know how I didn’t notice that,” Gwen states, taking another swig of her beer. You had changed in your apartment after cleaning your wound, but you don’t say anything. Hobie nods at you, and you nod back.

“Why aren’t you drinking anything (Y/n)? Here, try this it’s so good,” Pavitr pushes his bottle toward you, and you shake your head. “I don’t want to drink, but thanks Pavitr,” you say, and he frowns. “Awww.” You smile slightly at how disappointed he sounds. “Well, I want to remember everything you all tell me without it being fuzzy because I was hoping you could let me know a little bit more about all the spider people in Spider Society. I’m still new, you four, Peter B. Parker, and Miguel are the only ones I’ve really met.”

With that, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr start telling you everything they know. You learn about Jessica Drew, Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker, and so many more. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr talk for hours, and since they’re kids, they do not know when to stop drinking. Eventually, the three of them are passed out. Miles is cradling Gwen’s side with his head on her chest as she wraps one of her arms around him, and Pavitr is laying straight on his back, lightly snoring. You giggle softly at the sight. Suddenly the punk music you’ve been listening to for the past however many hours gets softer. You glance over to where it is and see Hobie bent over and turning it down. “Don’t wanna wake ‘em,” he mumbles, walking over to you. The volume of the city has decreased quite a bit, and with the low hum of music coming from the boombox now, his world is actually kind of enjoyable. Though you’d never tell him that. He motions to the skyline, and you turn and look. He was right, as much as you hate to admit it. The view is a lot better from up here.

“Why didn’t you drink anythin’?” he asks, and you shrug. “Didn’t feel like it. Why didn’t you drink anything?” He shrugs and pulls out a rolled cigarette from his vest pocket. “Got somethin’ better.”

“And you didn’t offer any to them?”

“Hey, they can drink here, they don’t need to mess with this shit. ‘Sides I knew they’d be pissed. Gonna have a god-awful hangover tomorrow,” he says, pulling out a lighter. You shake your head. “They can’t mess with your shit, but I can?”

“The two of us are the same age. We’re ‘adults’ or whatever the fuck that means. Are you too stuck up to be ‘round some grass or somethin’?”

“No, Hobie, I don’t give a fuck if you smoke weed. Building manager might, though.”

“Love, I am the building manager. This place is abandoned, so it belongs to me. And you’re not tellin’ me I’m supposed to smoke this myself?” he asks with a sly smirk on his face. You raise your eyebrow at him. “Actually I am.” He groans, putting the joint to his lips and lighting the end of it.

“Do you know how to have any fun?”

“Do you know how to have any–” Before you can finish, he puts his finger over your mouth, and raises the joint to his lips again. He takes a deep breath in, blowing out the excess smoke and glancing at you. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was gonna say.”

“Don’t care. The answer is no.”

“Have you ever actually tried listening to anything anyone says?” “Nah. I don’t listen to no one. I’m me, and if people don’t like that, good,” he says, taking another drag. He glances over at you and holds the joint out. “Y’sure you don’t want some?”

“You actually want to share with me?”

“I want you to not be as much as a ragin’ fuckwit, so yes,” he blows smoke in your face, and you glare at him. “If I take one hit, will you shut the fuck up about it?”

“Probably not, but it would sure make me happier.” You roll your eyes, and take the joint from him, taking a drag. He watches you. He’d never admit it, but he wishes you weren’t such an asshole. The way you look doing that in the moonlight? Stunning. You pass the joint back to him, some of the smoke coming out of your nose. “Stop staring at me.”

“Just makin’ sure you did it right and didn’t waste my shit,” he says, taking another drag. “I know how to hit a joint, Hobie.”

“Really? Never would have guessed you’d do anything remotely excitin’.”

“Oh, please. You barely know me,” you say, angrier than you probably should be. “Then tell me about yourself, love.”

“Hard pass,” you say, and he groans. “I get the desire to stay anonymous and mysterious, obviously, but come on. Chances are we’re gonna be seein’ each other more than either of us wants to, so just open up a bit,” he says, and you frown. “There’s nothing you need to know.”

“Bullshit.”

“Oh yeah? Then tell me something about you.”

“I killed Norman Osborn with my guitar after defeatin’ him and all of his V.E.N.O.M. forces and successfully led a rebellion against fascism,” he says smugly, “Until those other fuckin’ Nazis showed up, but one day I promise you this world? Will be capitalist and fascist free.”

“No, it won’t. Am I supposed to be impressed?” you ask with a deadpan face. He scoffs. “Damn, you’re a wanker. I’d like to see you try and defeat the V.E.N.O.M. forces. From what I seen your world’s villains are rubbish,” he says and to his surprise, and yours, you laugh. A hint of a smile plays on his features, but you shake your head. “Green Goblin is, you’re right, but... there are others who are much worse. And what the fuck is a venom force? You’re saying that like I should just know what it is.”

“It was a symbiote that– wait, you sayin’ you don’t know what venom is? That’s something every spider-person deals with at some point,” he says, and you shrug. “Guess I haven’t dealt with it yet.”

“Yeah, well, when you do, call me cause you’ll need my help,” he says and you roll your eyes. “I’d rather die than get help from you.”

“I helped you today, love.”

“I could have done that myself,” you retort, and he shakes his head, taking another drag. “I guess I should thank you though.”

“Hmm?”

“For not telling them what we were really talking about,” you say, and he hums. “What they won’t know won’t kill ‘em. But just so you know I was being so serious. Not talkin’ about that shit is more harmful than good,” he says, and you frown. “I’m not much of a talker.”

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up,” you groan, and he laughs. He loves pissing you off, might be his favorite thing to do now. But the conversation might actually need to get serious. He may hate you, but he’s Spider-Punk for the people, and you’re apart of that people. He’s there to help, so he may as well try with you.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why not? Why won’t you talk about it?” he asks, and you huff. “Because it was my fault, and I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nah, I bet it wasn’t your fault,” he mumbles, taking another drag. You glare at him. “Oh, right, I forgot you were there when their neck snapped after I tried to save them,” you spit, and he glances at you. You can feel that hit starting to affect you, that’s the only reason you said anything about… the incident. Of course, Hobie has good shit, why wouldn’t he. “What were you trying to save them from?” he asks, his voice oddly calm. “The Prowler,” you reply, “He’s the worst of the worst in my universe.” He hums and nods. “Well then, reckon it’s the Prowler’s fault then, innit?”

“What? But I’m the one who couldn’t get to them in time after he–”

“He did it, (Y/n). You did your best, but it ain’t your fault what happened there. That’s what they want you to think. Try and get that through your thick skull, would you?” he says, and you scoff, “They?”

He nods, and you go quiet. He glances over at you as you just sit and stare out at the city. “Stop doin’ ‘at.”

“Doing what?”

“Blamin’ yourself,” he says, taking another long drag. You sigh. “I can’t help it,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “You can. Just takes time,” he responds. You scoff, “You’d think three years would be enough time.” You look out at his city. It’s so different from yours, but you can still see the beauty in it. And you can see the stars. None of the constellations of your world are here, but the sky is still beautiful. “If you need a place to crash, my couch is very comfortable and has your name written all over it,” Hobie says, and you shake your head. “I should probably just go back to my universe–”

“No way. No dimension hopping under the influence,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “I had one hit,” you say, and he shrugs. “And one hit is enough for you to think you’re goin’ home only to end up in Peter Porker’s shower. You’re stayin’ here tonight.” You roll your eyes. “You’re insufferable.”

“I’m insufferable for watchin’ out for your well-bein’? Okay, sure.”

“I don’t need you to watch out for me. I don’t need anyone,” you hiss, and he scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Too good for everyone else.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“It was implied.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“Like you wouldn’t say the same thing,” you say, and he shrugs. “You’re right. I would say I don’t need anyone, because I don’t. Especially not a miserable thing like you,” he says, and you frown. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

The two of you just glare at each other for a bit before he flicks the butt of his joint off the building. “Goin’ to bed. See you tomorrow.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Shut up and follow me back to my place,” he says, getting up and walking down the building. You follow, yawning as you realize just how tired you are. When you get back inside Hobie’s place, he points at the couch. “Lay there, and don’t move until mornin’, got it?”

“I’ll do what I want.”

“Amazin’. Just don’t wake me up, and I won’t give a fuck,” he says, walking into his bedroom and kicking his door shut. You roll your eyes and lay down on his couch. It’s actually surprisingly comfortable, and you find yourself actually dozing off faster than you anticipated. Hobie walks out of his room to get a drink of water and ready to fight you verbally again, only to see you passed out on his couch with literally no blanket or pillow.

He sighs, grabbing a throw blanket off his bed and gently placing it on top of you. In the morning, you wake up before everyone else. You notice the blanket, and know only one person could have done that, but you don’t feel like sticking around to say anything. You just go home. But before you do, you leave a little note saying, ‘didn’t need your sympathy, thanks but no thanks,’ and draw a little middle finger.

He’ll get the hint you appreciated it.

───────────────────────────────

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if you asked to be on the taglist and i forgot, i’m sorry :( feel free to leave a comment on this or message me separately and i’ll get you right onto it!

[humdinky]

i just finished watching scavenger's reign yesterday, and let me tell y'all this is genuinely the best piece of sci-fi media i have seen in a long while, and it's insane how little i've seen this show being discussed online! it is probably the most unique and viscerally stunning series i’ve ever seen. the world that they have created is equal parts fascinating and terrifying, and every part of it feels fully realized. sci-fi is at its best when it lets go of nostalgia and explores the unknown, and SR gives me hope that real sci-fi can take root again, and be something beyond what came before it.

i will refrain from giving too much away in my discussion because this show works best the less you know going into it. the premise for this show is simple: crewmembers of a crashed freighter ship are left scattered across an alien planet. a good chunk of time has already passed by the time the show begins, and a few of the survivors have already established camps. however, things quickly spiral out of control as disaster wipes away their progress and forces each of them to move on. it's a harsh and unforgiving world that tests them each and every step of the way on their journey.

worldbuilding is where this show truly shines. it is no easy thing to design an entire ecosystem from scratch. it takes an insane amount of creativity and attention to detail to pull off what this show has. and my god did they fucking pull it off. living balloons floating through the air, large sea creatures that suck up their eggs when faced with danger, tendrilled plants that spawn clones of their prey to track them down - it is a frightening, surreal, and violent world, but harmonious in its own way. some creatures poison you, others clean off the poison. there are your typical type of predators that come at you with sharp fangs and giant pincers, but then there are predators that hunt via more insidious means: manipulating the memories of their prey to have them do their bidding, or hijacking their bodies from the inside. ultimately, the characters who fare best in this world are those who learn to adapt to it, and even sync with it.

SR also boasts a surprisingly well-crafted narrative. we are shown just enough of the world to keep us hooked, but it still feels like there is a lot left to be discovered. i also really enjoy the way the story is delivered to us. we follow the journeys of a few isolated groups whose paths gradually intersect. the characters are all fleshed out and three-dimensional - they were different enough to be unique and quirky, but never too different that it felt overboard. the way they react is exactly how humans in those circumstances would and should, the dialogue and voice acting were just superb. it felt so insanely real at times.

i really do hope that this show gets greenlit for a second season. this type of pure creative freedom is what we need right now. all in all, scavenger's reign is a gorgeous nightmare that you need to experience for yourself.

[headspace-hotel]

Another note on climate change despair:

My politics are pretty leftist, especially by the standards of a red state, but I think there is a such thing as Too Far Left re: the systemic nature of problems

It happens when you start to believe that nothing will ever change unless the current system is completely destroyed and a new one built in its place. In particular, when you believe that taking steps to reform, or decrease the harm of, a corrupt system is pointless or even bad, you've gone off the deep end imho.

People from my own country—the United States—will say things like "Gradual, incremental change is pointless, we need Revolution!"

Look me in the eyes and tell me that women's rights, LGBTQ rights, racial equality, etc. are in the same state they were in 1950. Maybe just google these things first.

Revolution IS an incremental change!!! This country has tens of thousands of elected officials and officeholders!! Every life-supporting industry is run by a fucked up Rube Goldberg machine of bureaucracy that could stretch from here to the Moon 87 times!!! This country's laws, institutions, and supply chains are a Bethesda game programmed in the 1700's, released unfinished and currently running thousands of mods, at least half of which either remove crucial game mechanics and content at random or do things like "make your character take damage when he pees." Do you think it's really possible to raze this clusterfuck to the ground and rebuild it from scratch?

anyway, I say this because a concerning amount of people believe literally nothing meaningful can be done to save the planet until our current government and economic system no longer exist.

I get it. Capitalism is what got us into this mess and it's making it worse right now, but we do not have zero agency, capitalism does not have infinite power and wisdom, and humans and governments can and do make decisions that are contrary to the immediate interests of capitalism. I think it's not only possible but normal throughout history for people's actions and beliefs to flow against the prevailing power of the time.

Think of dandelions. They flourish not because they are wanted, but because they are numerous, and the power that controls the grass and sidewalks cannot reach everywhere at once. And so they are unstoppable, and will never be destroyed.

We must have the raw, opportunistic resisting power of weeds, taking hold in every crack in the terrible machine that controls our lives. We must hold on like little plants in an expanse of cracked concrete—the slab will not be dug up and the soil set free anytime soon, but if enough of us live our lives in spite of it, its power will be weakened and its impenetrable nature changed.

Also, just because technological solutions to climate change don't feel right—they don't satisfy the longer-term, idealized principle of healing the Earth and creating a more sustainable society—doesn't mean they wouldn't, in the short term, work.

Get in losers, we're burning incense to Caesar and tomorrow we will be alive.

[decolonize-the-everything]

Im an american and I'm so scared of the future. I think I'm gonna die under a trump presidency and I don't what to do.

There are people dying under Biden now and with the supreme court decision to criminalize homeless people I suspect that there will soon be more.

That to say, solidarity will be our salvation in the face of fascists trying to divide us with fear and attacks on our rights. Yeah it is terrifying, but there are more oppressed people than there are oppressors. There is a reason they are attacking our communities one at a time, fear mongering, and trying to make us choose a side all at the same time.

What you need to do is the scary thing and put your trust in activists and leftists who are desperately shouting from the rooftops that the most important thing we can do right now is put our foot down and disengage from a corrupt two party system that only uplifts white supremacist fascists.

We have an awful government because we allow awful people in our government. Point blank. There is no getting around that or making excuses for it anymore. That led us here, right?

Whatever happens, no matter how this election goes the next 4 years are going to be impossible to describe in how bad it will be for people across the planet and the planet itself.

Honestly? You should be scared. Only fascists wouldnt be. But, if you're able to do something about it then let that fear turn into rage and become your fire.

Get mad at the people who put you in this impossible position. Because they knew better and they didn't care about your life or the millions of others at risk everyday! Why the hell should any of us keep playing into a system where our own president (and plenty of other politicians throughout time) can say we should die for the economy, for this country, for them when they wont let us walk down the street holding hands with our trans partner, when they kill our communities for jogging while Black, when they wont even let us live in poverty without sending us to prison!! People work themselves to the bone in this country to get by and you're telling me they'll never own or deserve a home? That even at the end of serving a long war, one of the most patriotic and respectable things you can do for an imperialist country, a veteran's kindest statistic to come home to is still an early death?

Fuck that.

Shits fucked. It's been fucked for a long time. If you're fine now you'll probably be fine under Trump if we're being honest.

But if that chance you won't be keeps you up at night, know that you aren't alone. That fear in your heart, that pit in your stomach is something every oppressed person has in common and it will be what unites us.

Like I said. Let it turn to rage, to fire. A single candle is no big deal to put out, but could they stop a wildfire so easily?

You're not going to die under Trump.

There are too many of us being wronged by the same exact systems. And as long as we focus on that and build on that instead of arguing over which system leader the worst, then we'll be fine. The point is they all suck, right? So find common ground there instead of discourse.

Solidarity can look like:

Donating! to bail funds, Palestinian escape gfms, human rights orgs, grassroots activists circles, directly to marginalized people, etc.

Not advocating for the two party system/voting blue

Remembering that equality will not be gained by stepping on someone else- no more compromising the needs of others. If one person says something hurts then their pain can't be part of any solution to someone else's problem.

On that note: listening when PoC and esp Black women tell you when something is racist, harmful, or oppressive. Listen when you are told that the solution you are considering will still leave people marginalized, isn't accessible, and/or isn't inclusive enough.

Solidarity also looks like not taking it personally when you are told that the action/opinion you just voiced was hurtful or ignorant or even bigoted. You DO have misinformed opinions and beliefs and you WILL be checked on those when they occur (just like you check others probably.) No, not everyone will be nice about it and you shouldn't let that discourage you! You should remember that being checked is exactly what everyone is gonna have to get used to. That is what building a better future is gonna look and feel like for everyone at some point. Everyone is ignorant about something. Just learn to say thank you when you're educated for free.

Get used to discomfort!! A little discomfort now is going to be worth the human rights and solidarity and justice we have later. Solidarity is gonna look like Not constantly centering your own comfort or lifestyle or privileges. It's gonna look like reading the room and knowing what a tone deaf comment/request is and when your silence is more appropriate (This is how you will earn trust in community spaces that've become hypervigilant of bad faith allies)

You figure out what your community needs and seek to provide it through either donations, working with local orgs, labor, awareness, (ex: donating/making meals, cleaning, providing clothes or birth control, sharing MutAid requests, boosting activist groups, etc), and showing up to support your community's movements and protests.

Even my tiny rural area has queer meetups, anarchist bookclubs, and a Mexican activist group with a Facebook page; get involved in your community in the ways you can. Learn the names of the people you'll be standing shoulder to shoulder with when Trump supporters start rallying against us all.

The fascist wave can be stopped but none of us will be able to do it alone. You aren't going to die under Trump because none of us are going to let that happen.

The same way you wouldn't let it happen to any of us.

The community that keeps you safe is the one you build.

[kitkatscabinet]

Step into my parlour, said the spider

Stepbro! Simon x reader

Warnings: this one’s kind of deranged. Simon is a fucked up little freak. I mean it when I say this is dark, read with discretion. Implications of murder, and non-con

Word count: 1.5k

Once again 141 server bringing out the worst in me, @chxrryghost @cooliofango see you guys in hell 🫡

Before you, life was a series of dull greys and monochromes, there was no warmth, just cold never-ending darkness that persisted in the form of his father's abuse. That didn’t matter now though, because nothing before you mattered.

Simon is nine years old when the angel (you) starts to live with them, he’s got no clue how his deadbeat of a father managed to finagle another woman into marrying him but he pays little mind to his new step-mum when he has you. 

You’re five years older than him, but you’re not like Tommy or dad at all. You’re kind and you tuck him into bed and give him cuddles and kisses that make him feel all fuzzy inside. You take him to the park and protect him from his dad. You try to hide the dark bruises that litter your skin, a consequence of shielding him, but Simon’s not so naive. 

He grows up hiding in your shadow, falling deeper and deeper into an obsessively deranged love for his saviour, the only person who loves him and treats him kindly. He seethes silently, waiting for the moment he’s big enough to protect you instead. 

By the time you’re sixteen, your mother has split, leaving you behind though you reassure Simon that you’d never have left him anyway. His father’s been out of a job for a while and you’ve been running yourself ragged to support Simon and Tommy. Tommy the bastard that he is doesn't appreciate the work you do and Simon is once again forced to grit his teeth and seethe as he watches you come home every evening like a zombie. Some mornings you don’t even make it to the bed to fall asleep, though Simon’s always waiting, dragging you under the covers before burrowing his way into your side. 

You let yourself get degraded by filthy men that slap your ass and call you names just for a measly tip. You’re one of the prettiest people on the planet which, unfortunately, attracts a lot of attention from the disgusting dregs of society. Boys your age and older, far too old to even consider glancing your way. The few brave enough to hover are always quickly scared off by Simon’s intense glares, and he preens when you pat his hair in thanks.

His dad notices too and Simon comes home from school one afternoon to find the man on top of you, hands wrapped around your neck as you struggle beneath him. A plate shatters over his dad's head and it’s not until Simon is on the floor and his old man is red in face, screaming at him that Simon realises what he’s done. 

You’re screaming and you shove his dad from behind, scooping Simon into your arms with adrenaline-fuelled strength you wouldn’t normally possess and are locking you and him in your shared room. Barricading the door and squishing Simon against you as your breath rattles. 

You fall asleep with Simon nestled against your chest, none the wiser to how his blood chants with the fervour of a thousand men, mine, mine, mine.

The universe finally seems to give you a break after that, his dad leaves the both of you alone and not long after your 18th birthday you get a cushy, well-paying job as a secretary for some hot-shot lawyer. Though Simon gets a little upset when you spend all your money on him, new clothes, new books for school, a GameBoy, whatever he wants. 

Best of all, his dad dies. The alcohol and drugs finally taking their toll on his body. (It’s not until a few years later that he’ll realise you were entirely too calm when the police came knocking. Serving them tea as you pretended to be shocked about the news.)

You get custody of him and Tommy and you move them into a much nicer neighbourhood. Though Simon’s not happy at having his own room and often sneaks back into your bed, knowing that you’ll simply sigh and open your arms for him, letting him snuggle against your chest. 

Simon should’ve known better, should’ve known that his happiness wouldn’t last. It’s not even a year into what you called the start of his new life that he comes home one afternoon from school to find you sobbing into your hands, hair and outfit dishevelled. Though you refuse to give him the details of what happened he manages to put two and two together from the state of your being and the knowledge that you’ve been fired. 

You take up waitressing again but it’s not enough. He’s not sure who ends up reporting it but a few days before his 14th birthday Simon gets taken away from you, no matter how much he kicks and screams. He tries to run away a few times but he’s always found and dragged away from you again. 

You move away not long after, having been offered a once-in-a-lifetime scholarship. Simon tries to understand as you explain through tears, kissing his forehead for the last time. He knows it’s selfish of him to feel betrayed but he can’t help it. Can’t accept that you’re leaving him. He doesn’t cry, instead, he immediately starts plotting. This is just a minor bump in the road, he’ll spend every waking moment until he’s eighteen perfecting his skills and plans and then nothing will keep you apart ever again. 

Time passes by excruciatingly slow, the only positive is that he’d finally grown even further, and had sprouted in height and musculature so much that he fears you might not recognise him. It takes him another extra year to find you, but when he’s twenty-three, with military resources at his disposal he finally, finally sees you again in person. 

You’re still the picture of perfection, clothes hugging your form so tantalisingly that Simon feels his cock throb in the confines of his pants just from seeing you. He steps forward, weaving through the crowd of the market only to stop in his tracks when a man wraps his arms around your midsection. Instead of rebuffing the touch you lean back and smile against him and Simon feels as if the Earth has been pulled from his feet. 

How could you do this to him?

He’s waited so faithfully for you all these years and you’ve replaced him? He watches as you kiss the interloper with a smile and Simon clenches his fists in fury so harshly his palms bleed. How many men had you let into your bed? How long did it take for you to forget him?

The plan’s changed. You’ve forced him into this. It’s not his fault that he’s had to plant cameras throughout your house. It’s not his fault that you’re so tantalising it forces him to break into your house, stealing your used panties to help get himself off. It’s not his fault you force him to learn you and your boyfriend’s schedule and it’s not his fault your scumbag partner doesn’t take his carefully worded hint to leave you. 

Your boyfriend is dead. Unfortunate, but needs must. Simon watches you sob into your pillow, hard as a rock as he imagines licking the tears from your cheeks and decides he can’t wait any longer. 

You’re so distraught that you don’t even notice Simon is in your house, you don’t notice until he swings the bedroom door open and you look up with a scream. He supposes he must make something of a terrifying sight, he’s a large man, and his face is covered by his trademark skull balaclava.

Simon allows you a few seconds to scramble around in panic before he crosses the distance, trapping your back to his chest and groaning as he humps into your ass. You scream, hitting at his arms as the tears start to flow anew and Simon throws you down on the mattress, weighing you down with his bulk. 

“Please, you don’t have to do this” you beg with teary eyes that do nothing but fuel his arousal. He does take pity on you though, restraining your wrists with his right hand and using his left to tug off his mask. He watches as your eyes gradually widen, elation filling his chest as recognition fills them. 

“Simon?” your voice wobbles and his name has never sounded better. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your collarbone, taking calming breaths to stop from cumming then and there. It’s okay though, he’s got all the time in the world now. You’ll spend the rest of your lives together, you’ll never be apart again.

[silverstar70]

Fandom: Criminal minds Character: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Author's note: English isn't my first language, i apologize for any mistakes. This is set after 10x21 ending.

Summary: Hotch finds a way to deal with what Mr.Scratch and Y/N is happy to help and comforts him.

Warnings: 🔞‼️estabilished relationship, smut, rough sex, vaginal sex, consensual sex, voice kink, praise kink, orgasm control, spanking, vaginal fingering, non consensual drug use, mind control, hurt/confort, blood and violence, character death

Words count: 5,466k Hope you like it and let me know what you think! Enjoy it!

What do you want?

Hotch was sitting in the ambulance with Dave near him. He was trying to get him to talk to know what had happened in that house before they arrived, but every attempt was wasted. Hotch seemed to be on another planet. Y/N walked away from Morgan and JJ and headed to the ambulance. When Rossi saw Y/N, he went up to her, leaving Hotch alone.

“He didn’t say anything. Maybe you’ll get luckier.”

“I’ll bring him home and talk to him” he nodded and kissed Y/N goodbye on her forehead before leaving her behind and join the rest of the team. She walked to Hotch and offered him her hand.

“Let’s go home” she said softly. He looked up to her for a moment with his eyes full of pain and sadness but didn’t say anything. He just took her hand tightly than she expected and got up, ready for her to bring him home.

The car ride was silent. It was like Hotch wasn’t even there, Y/N occasionally looked toward him just to make sure he was okay. She was sicked worried and didn’t know what to do to help him.

“Jack is staying with Jessica tonight. I thought it was for the best” she informed him but only received a mumbled okay. She kept driving until they arrived at his building. Parked the car and went straight to his apartment.

Once inside, Y/N went to prepare something to eat for both of them while Hotch crushed on the couch still fully dressed. Neither of them was hungry but they hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. When she was done, she put a plate in front of him with some leftovers and a scrambled eggs but he refused to eat.

“Hotch, babe, you need to eat something. At least try, please” he remained silent once again.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” she asked caressing his cheek but only got a no as answer. An hour passed and he still hadn’t touched his food. Standing, leaning against the wall that separated the living room from the dining room, Y/N was watching Hotch laying on the couch with his eyes fixed on the ceiling. She wanted to help him but all he was doing was shutting her out.

“You don’t wanna talk. You don’t wanna eat. What do you wanna do, Aaron?”

After a moment he sat on the couch and looked at her with a smirk.

“I wanna fuck you until tomorrow morning. You won’t be able to walk later.” He said serious keeping looking into her eyes.

“I’m serious Hotch” at that he stood up from the couch and walked slowly towards her, no leaving her look.

“So am I” he said with a low voice. He stopped a few steps away from her and he stretched out his arms against the wall. Y/N was trapped between his body and the wall, and his arms prevented her from leaving.

He bent his head forward, resting his lips on hers, but she coolly returned the kiss. His stubbornness was driving her crazy and she didn’t wanna gave up that easily but, slowly, pleasure begun to take place in her body. Hotch kept softly kissing her down her neck.

“I wanna hear you moan my name, Y/N” his low voice was making her wetter that she would’ve liked to admit. She was holding back her moaning whenever he kissed her and his look full of lust was begging her to give up. “I wanna make you cum so many times. You’ll beg me to stop.”

He kissed her one more time down her neck and then caressed her cheek gently. She wanted him right there and he knew it. He bent near her ear, while one of his hands founded place on her hip.

“Don’t resist me, baby.”

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine. She took his head in her hands, paying attention to the wound on his cheekbone, and kissed him intensely for several moments. He squeezed her against his body grabbing her by the hips and she felt his erection pressing against her. She jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist without breaking the kiss. He moaned in the kissed while holding her under her cheekbutts.

"Fuck, I love you so much” Hotch said against her lips as he carried her to the bedroom.

“Then show me” she replied provoking him. He hurried to the room, slamming the door behind him with his foot and slamming Y/N against it while still holding her. While her hands were in his hair, he kissed her roughly on her neck. She moaned softly and every time she did that, she felt his hardening cock under her.

Hotch pulled her away from the door and laid her on the bed, covering her body with his. His look was full of lust and craving, his eyes dark and intense. She was almost afraid of it, yet excitement kept growing for them both.

A hand slipped under her sweater, and her body recoiled at his cold touch. He slipped off her sweater and throw it away, revealing her naked chest. She started to unblock his belt while he was kissing her leaving hickeys all over her chest and neck. She then started working on his shirt, which she slipped off and dropped to the ground. He unbuttoned her jeans and slowly slipped them down her legs, not letting her gaze go.

“You’re perfect” he whispered to himself. She was enjoying the view of him standing at the end of the bed, in all his beauty, and unintentionally she began biting her lower lip. He also removed her panties before settling between her legs. He was covering her body with his once again and bent on her leaving wet kisses on her neck. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her hands started traveling along his strong back.

“You’ll do everything I say, including when cumming” he whispered in her ear while one of his hands slipped between their body reaching her center.

“And what if I don’t listen?” Y/N answered back with a provoking smile. Hotch roughly pushed two fingers inside her, as deep as he could taking her by surprise. He started to move them in circle making her gasped while enjoying the look of pure pleasure on her face.

“You don’t wanna find out” he begun to move faster, going deeper and deeper. He was enjoying himself watching her orgasm starting to build but didn’t wanna gave her one so soon, he slowed down making her groaned.

“You still have your pants on” she said between moans.

“Don’t worry about it” he kissed her roughly on the lips before pulling out his fingers and tasted her. “I wanna please you before I destroy you.”

He pushed back his finger inside and begun to move faster, building her orgasm. She moaned loudly and soon his other hand was on her mouth to stop her from being loud. She was so close to cum and he was torturing her.

“Please Hotch” she lamented.

“Please what? I didn’t say you could cum.” he kept going faster, back and forth. He was building her orgasms once again and she was desperate. She needed the release. He knew she was close; he was feeling it how she was clenching around him.

“Hold still.” She did what she was told but was failing, he decided to give in. “Cum for me, babe.”

She moaned out loud as a wave of pleasure was leaving her. She arched her back with Hotch’s fingers still inside her but he didn’t stop and started to move his finger again riding her orgasm. In a mere of seconds, she was close again.

“One more time, Y/N” he ordered in a low voice. That damn voice. She felt weak every time he used it. She came hard and loud for the second time that evening. Y/N felt like her body was leaving her and her mind went black. She loved how he made her feel, she loved even more how he made her cum.

 When she calmed down, he pulled his fingers out and kissed her forehead softly. He got up form the bed and disappear in the bathroom for a few seconds coming back with Y/N bathrobe’s belt. He took off his boxers and climbed on the bed pulling apart her legs so he could stand in between.

“Now, I wanna fuck you. And you won’t be able to touch me.”

That bastard. He knew she loved touching him, feeling his muscles tensing under her hands. He tied her wrists, not tight to hurt but tight enough to block her and pinned them over her head with one hand. With his free hand he slid his cock inside her, deep. They both groaned at the feeling.

Giving her very little time to adjust to his size, he started moving fast and deep for a sever mere of time. Holding her tight by her wrists, he bent over her groaning in her ears knowing she loved it. She was getting wetter and wetter and felt her orgasm building in the stomach. She was clenching around him which gave him a lot of pleasure, and he let her know by groaning louder.

“Aaron, p-please” she moaned “I-I’m close.”

He stopped and put a hand around her throat, without tightening.

“You’re not gonna cum yet.”

He pulled himself up and started fucking her again, going harder and deeper every time more. With a devilish smile on his face, he was looking down at his lover being overwhelmed by pleasure and completely at his mercy. He loved her so much, he loved how she was letting him using her in that moment.

She was a strong and independent woman and never in a million years she would bend over a man wants. But when it came to him, that was a different story. She loved to be dominated by him in bed and he loved doing it.

“My God, Aaron. P-please let me cum” she tried to say between moanings. With each thrust she felt losing control over her body. He grabbed her hips tightly and moved faster, ready to give her all the pleasure. Giving her a nod, that was all the permission she needed to cum.   

“Oh, fuck” she cried out loud, almost losing her voice. Hotch slowed down but didn’t stop until she calmed down once again. He bent to kiss her gently on her soft lips as to remind her, her Aaron was still there.

The belt around her wrist had tightened too much due to her squirming so he quickly untied her and started caressing her wrist. She noticed the worrying on his face and grab his head between her hands pulling him down, over her body, and kissed him again.

“I’m fine, honey” Y/N reassured him with a soft voice looking into his beautiful hazel eyes.

“You sure?” she nodded and received a quick kiss from him “Good. Because I’m not done”

He stood from the bed and helped Y/N doing the same. Without giving her time to say anything, he quickly bent her over the bed pulling her legs apart. Standing behind her, he pulled her hips onto him and entered hard and deep inside her.

“You’ll be a good girl and not cum until I said so. Understood?” he asked her and when she didn't answer right away, he slapped her ass hard enough to make her gasp "Understood?"

“Yes, yes I understood” she replied in excitement and a little pain. She was sure she had his handprint on her butt but couldn’t care less.

“Good girl” she could imagine the grin he had on his face. He started pounding her again from behind, holding her hips tight. He was groaning in pleasure not afraid of being loud for her to hear it. She loved hearing him moaning, it was so erotic and greeting to know he was comfortable enough to not holding back.

The room was filled by their skin slapping against each other and their loud moanings. She was holding tight on the sheets to try to control her body and wait for him to give her the permission to cum. She was close, so damn close.

“Don’t. Cum.”

“P-please, Hotch” Y/N begged whispering, not being able to control her body anymore. He stopped abruptly, taking a breath, and giving her time to cool down. He bent over Y/N and started kissing her spine, from the lower back up to the back of her neck.

She shivered at the feeling, he was kissing her like she was the most precious thing made of glass. Hotch loved being rough with her but being able to connect just by simple touches, soft kisses and small talking was something he would always love more.

“Cum with me” he whispered softly in her ear and she nodded. He stood one more time and interlocked their fingers taking her hands behind her back. He moved faster back and forth, never leaving her hands. Every thrust was perfectly placed, knowing full well what the effects on her body were.

She was craving the orgasm and Hotch’s could take it anymore. She was clenching around him and he was fighting to gain some control. Seconds later she came hard followed by him.

“Oh God!” they groaned in union. He released her hands and kissed her shoulder, gently caressing her side with his fingertips.

“Wait here” he whispered and gave her one last peck on her back before pulling out slowly, she gasped at the loss of contact but didn’t move. He quickly disappeared in the bathroom and soon she heard the water running.

“Let’s take a quick shower” he suggested reentering the room. Helping her getting up, Hotch saw she was walking funny and smiled to himself.

“Don’t laugh. Aaron”

“I wouldn’t dare it” she walked past him with a death stare and headed to the bathroom while he was enjoying seeing the effects of the previous performance on her. Hotch suppressed a laugh and followed her.

They entered together in the shower with the water running on their body. No sexual touch was shared just soft petting, tender kisses and so much love and admiration. He gently caressed the handprint he left on her ass while kissing her soft lips. Her hands were running throw his hairs pulling him closer.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“No. I liked it” she smiled and his lips was on her once again.

They finished showering and went back to the bedroom where they put some clothes on. He was only in boxers and she was wearing one of his t-shirt and her panties. They climbed under the cover, with Y/N on his right side, tangled to each other.

With her head on his chest, Y/N could feel his strong heartbeat. It had always calmed her on the bad days, whenever she felt down, he was ready to comfort her and hugged her tight on his chest. It became a habit to fall asleep listening to his heartbeat and he was happy that it worked.

Before going to sleep, Y/N needed to make sure he was okay. She knew he wouldn’t want to talk but she hoped that after the amazing sex he was more willing to do it.

“It was amazing” he broke the silence while playing with her hair.

“It really was” she looked up to him and smiled. Careful to his wound, she caressed gently his left cheek and looked for some sign of discomfort but didn’t notice any.

“It still hurts?” she worried. Hotch took her hand and gently kissed her palm before answering.

“Not much”

“Good. So…” she started carefully “Do you wanna talk about what happened tonight?”

“No” he answered back without thinking twice. She didn’t insist and let it go. Y/N knew he was scared and that he would have talked whenever was ready, but she also wanted to let him know that she was there for him, for the goods and the bads.

“I don’t wanna force you, just know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” He nodded and went back at staring at the ceiling while softly petting her side. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, neither of them could sleep. He was too overwhelmed by what had happened that night and she was too worried that if she closed her eyes something bad would happen to him, again.

“He made me see things.” he mumbled after sitting on the side of the bed, with his back to Y/N. He was resting the head between his hands trying to control his tears that were ready in his eyes. He soon felt Y/N’s arms hugging him from behind and smiled when she kissed the back of his head.

“It’s okay, babe. It’s over now” he took a deep breath and kept going as she moved sitting near him, turned to him.

“You guys were all death. You died because of me” her heart broke at seeing him so vulnerable and hurt. One of Y/N’s hand was running toward his hair, while the other was caressing his hand. She was looking at him with a worried sight.

“What happened in that house, Hotch?” she asked carefully.

“I was sitting on the floor in the office, hurt and drugged. You went in separately a-and…” he paused for a second, scared to reliving those moments “JJ and Reid were the first to die. He took them by surprise, they couldn't even defend themselves. Then he killed Rossi and Morgan”

He looked toward her and she saw all the pain in his eyes. He watched his team die in front of him but Y/N knew he wasn’t done. She wiped the tear that had fallen on his cheek and smile softly when he kissed her knuckles.

“What happened later?” his eyes were glassy one again. He took him a few seconds before answering that.

“He killed you” he looked down, between his feet, not being able to bear her look at the moment “You had found me. You were there in front of me w-when he shot you. He shot you twice and your blood was all over me. I couldn’t help you. I couldn’t help any of you.”

Y/N hugged him tightly to her chest to make him feel her presence. He broke down and started crying in her arms pulling her even closer if possible. He needed to feel her, to make sure she was there in his arms and that it was real.

“It’s over. I’m right here, honey” Y/N tried to reassure him the best she could, caressing his back the way she knew he liked. Hotch calmed down after a few minutes and pulled out from the hug to looked at her.

“It was so real. Watching you and the team die. The thought of watch my team die always scared me and now I get to see what it would look like. I know it’s a risk of the job b-but…I can’t lose you Y/N. Or the team. Not the way I lost Haley.”

“He got into your head. It was what he wanted, taking control. But you don’t have to let him do it again. We arrested him, it’ over. Don’t give him more power. I’m so sorry you had to go through that and I’m sorry I’ve arrived too late but please never doubt yourself.” She stopped for a moment to kiss him hard on the lips and to wipe away another tear from his cheek.

“You’re an amazing team leader, you always have your team’s back. They count on you, they respect you but more that this, they trust you, Aaron. As a leader, of course, but also as a friend. I know how your feeling, I’ve been there too but I’m sure that when the time will come, you’ll do everything in your power to protect your team.”

Without hesitation, he leaned over to close the gap between them and kissed her lips holding her head in his strong hands. He deepened the kissed wanting to feel more of her. Laying her back on the bed, he was over her once again, but this time felt different. He just wanted to feel her close, nothing sexual, just a pure connection and innocent kisses and touches.

“Wanna go for it again?” Y/N joked.

“No. Just wanna cuddle” he answered honestly and she nodded. They climbed under the covers one more time spooning, and Hotch wrapped her in a tight hug around her waist holding her impossibly closer to him.

His mind was playing games with him and it would take a while to move on, but right there he was in peace. He had in his arms one of two of the most important people in his life. She was alive and safe and that was the only thing that mattered to him. He fell asleep minutes after her with a smile on his face.

*

The next morning, she woke up to his soft snoring and turned toward him after checking the time. The light of the sun coming through the window was still weak so they could stay in bed for a few more hour but no mattered how much she tried she couldn’t stay in bed anymore. Carful not to wake him, she headed quickly to the bathroom and then straight to the kitchen. Y/N was planning to make Hotch some homemade blueberries pancakes that she knew he would’ve loved.

She found everything she needed and prepared on the kitchen counter. There was always food at Hotch’s, unlike at hers. She was barely at home, not just because she practically lived with the Hotcners but mostly because she was always at work if she weren’t with them.

She always put her job first, that was how she grow up. Y/N traveled at lot since she was a kid due to her parent’s job and then when she joined the Navy she just kept traveling around the world. She never had a place to call home, just empty houses. Never stayed in the same city for more than a few years and she was okay with it. She was more that happier to keep living liked that and then she met Hotch.

For the first time in a long time, she stopped traveling and had a place that felt like home. It wasn’t easy at first, she wasn’t used to it but for Hotch was worth a try. She was enjoying her new life; she still had her job but it didn’t require to travel that much anymore.

While thinking about her life, she finished preparing the pancakes and an hour or so had passed. She headed back in the bedroom and stopped in her track looking at Hotch. He looked peaceful and vulnerable and the sheet, that only covered him to his waist, left his scarred torso exposed.

She knew what had happened with Foyet but that hadn’t never changed her feelings for him and she make sure to remind him how much she loved him and how sexy and handsome he was. He hardly believed he was sexy or handsome but secretly loved when Y/N tell him.

She climbed back in the bed, carefully to not wake him and stayed in silence for a few minutes just enjoying the view. She started placing a few soft kisses down his neck getting a low groan from him, she moved on the shoulder before straddling him. He opened his eyes slowly, even though his body was betraying him and full awake.

She leaned down to kiss his lips, attentively placing one hand on his wounded cheekbone. His hands through her hair were pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. She felt his body react under her and smiled at the sensation.

“Good morning, Agent Hotchner”

“Good morning, Lieutenant Y/L/N”

“I made pancakes” she informed him.

“It can wait” he said smirking and without giving her time to reply, he rolled them over ending on top of her. She gasped at the sudden move but wasn’t complaining. His hands were wandering under her t-shirt, touching her tits and making her moaned. Immediately he took it off and threw it away somewhere across the room.

He bent to kiss her neck and went down on her chest taking a nipple in his mouth and massaging the other. She arched her back and groaned at the feeling. He was good with his hands. He continued his way down her body, leaving wet kisses here and there on her torso. Once he got at her entrance, he moved her panties to the side and slipped a single finger into her wetness.

“You’re so wet, baby” she groaned begging him to do something, anything. He started moving slowly back and forth doing small circles but stopping right before the release. He wanted to savor the moment and had planned to do it by edging her.

“Aaron please?” she lamented pulling on his hair.

“Not yet”

He moved his finger up on her clit and began circling it, fastening the pace to his own liking, doing smaller and smaller circles but stopping as soon as she got too close to the edge. He began his assault with his tongue too making her moaned at the sudden contact. Sucking hard for a few minutes before sliding two fingers inside her making even more difficult for her not to come right away. Y/N was almost dripping as he was using his fingers to fuck her. When she begged for him, he stopped moving again.

“You bastard” she mumbled to herself. His erection was growing just by hearing her moaning. He needed to be inside her as much as she needed him. He went back overing her, she took his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Y/N could taste herself on his lips and moaned.

“I wanna make love with you, Y/N” he whispered against her lips. She smiled nodding, giving him the permission he needed before he slowly slid into her. Her body reacted like it was the first time, like he hadn’t fucked her senseless the night before. They groaned in unison.

He started going slow and deep, making her moaned loudly for hitting all the right spots. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist to give him a better angle to go deeper.

“Oh God, baby” he groaned in her ear, feeling her get tighter around him. He started moving faster pounding her deeper, sending her over the edge.

“Oh fuck!” He didn’t stop, riding her orgasm to give her one more. She was holding on his shoulders scratching them with the nails, as pleasure was overwhelming her body. He was groaning into her neck trying to gain some control.

“I-I’m close…” she came again within seconds and with a few more thrusts he came deep inside her, groaning loudly.

“Oh yes, baby” he rolled off her and laid on the bed, both trying to catch their breath. He pulled her on his chest and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. They staid in bed for a little while, planning what to do in the next few days, deciding what to tell Jack about his father wound and forgetting soon about the pancakes. The silence of the room was broken by Hotch’s stomach rumbling and they both laughed.

“There was a mention of pancakes, was it?”

“Oh yeah! They’re waiting for you. And so are the blueberries” he smiled widely at the mention of his favorite fruit. They headed together to the kitchen after putting some clothes on. While Hotch was sitting at counter, Y/N was assembling their plates. Three pancakes each, with a few more blueberries on top and maple syrup.

“Don’t look at me like that, Hotchner.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fuck me right here, right now.” he laughed at the comment as she put the plate in front of him and sat in chair next to his.

“I was just thinking how much I like this, having you around.” she blushed and smiled.

“I like this too. I like even more making you and Jack blueberries pancakes in the morning and spending the days with you. I never thought I would’ve love this life style but now I can’t live without it.” He smiled and took her hand in his to kiss it tenderly.

“I love you, Y/N”  

“I love you too, Aaron”

They shared another intense kiss when Hotch’s stomach rumbling interrupted.

“Now let’s eat because I’m starving.”

Once they finished, Hotch washed the plates while Y/N was sitting at the counter enjoying the view of his perfect ass and the way his t-shirt was perfectly hugging his back and biceps. She was daydreaming and didn’t notice that Hotch was done.   

“Now who’s the one with the “I wanna fuck you” look?” he moved back near her while mocking her and sat on the chair.

“Wait here” she disappeared in the bedroom and came back with a few stuffs he couldn’t identify and put them on the counter. “We need to clean your wound.”

Right. He had forgotten about it, but he didn’t have the time to protest that she was already standing between his legs with disinfectant and gauzes in hand. She was quick and careful before putting a small band-aid on it. She kissed him on his forehead before starting to massage his temple, because she knew he needed but was too stubborn to ask.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome. Just ask me whenever you need it”

“I-I meant…Thank you for being my rock, for respecting my boundaries and not forcing me to talk about last night. I could’ve done it without you. But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” she asked a bit worried.

“I didn’t have sex with you last night because I wanted to have sex but because I wanted to have control over something. I needed to have control over something. Peter Lewis made me felt so powerless and weak, he got into my head and used my biggest fear against me, and I was stuck, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. You were there and sex was the only thing I though could’ve give me back some sort of control.”

He stopped and searched for some kind of reaction from Y/N but found none.

“I’m so sorry. I should have talked to you instead.”

Silence filled the room; she was still standing between him. Hotch was expecting the worst, she had every right to get mad and couldn’t blamed her. For sure, he wasn’t expecting what happened next.

“Did it work?” the question took him off guard and gave her a questioning look. “The sex. Did it give you some control back?”

“Yes. For a little while at least”

“Then you don’t have anything to apologize for. If sex was what you needed, I’m happy I was there.”

“But..” he started but she interrupted

“No buts. You didn’t force me to do anything if this is what you’re worrying about. I was completely fine with it; it was what you needed. And I knew that if I ever felt uncomfortable you would’ve stopped right away, without even asking you. Am I right?”

“Of course. I would never hurt you intentionally.”

“Good” Y/N leaned quickly peck his lips and caressed his cheek “You’re a good man, Aaron Hotchner. Never doubt it.”

“Thank you”

“But if you ever forget it, I’ll be happy to remind it to you. In every way I see fit”

He laughed and pulled her closer to him to share a passionate kiss, there in the kitchen. Oh, how much he loved that woman, never in a million years he thought he would’ve been so lucky. He had this beautiful woman in his arms that loved him as much as he loved her, and this scared him to death because he didn’t want to ruing things.

For a moment his mind went to Jack and thought of how much they’ve liked each other from the very first moment. Hotch loved watching the two of them interacting, and loved having her around. Sometimes it still felt like a dream, but it was very real. Y/N was there, and she was his. Well not yet, but one day he would marry that woman.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

More childish Daryl because we all love his big little shit self and his little shit attitude

and more of Rick being a victim as well as a little piece of shit

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

There weren’t many things life that you were afraid of anymore besides dying. or your loved ones dying. Oh and every form of insect left on the planet.

“Daryl Dixon take that thing back outside and the fuck out of my house!” You yell in horror when your husband comes sprinting into the house with a large and exotic bug cupped in his hands, holding it out to you excitedly. “Look at it though!”

“Very, very nice my love… Uhh,” Your eyes dart nervously around. “Here! Put it in here for safe keeping” You grab a jar and push it towards Daryl, staying as far away from him as he would let you, which wasn’t very far. “He’s gon die in there” Daryl mumbled, shifting on his feet.

You sigh. “He won’t outside. Y’know, where he lives?”

“But I ain’t ever seen this bug ‘fore” Daryl pouted slightly.

“Daryl. Please.” You give a soft but stern look.

The man frowned, dropping his gaze down to his new friend as he walked him back out the door. “Fine.”

You sighed in relief watching the archers wings disappear behind the creaky slam of your front door, out onto the Alexandria streets to terrorize the community. But you didn’t know that part.

Over at Carol’s house, she lounges comfortably on her porch swing, a real good and captivating book in one hand, a cooling, untouched cup of coffee in the other. She’s so invested in the story that she doesn’t even feel Daryl’s presence behind her, totally not coaxing his new friend off his palm and onto her shoulder, watching as the strange bug crawled down her arm slowly.

At first she didn’t feel it, finally taking her first sip out the mug after hovering it for so long. When she moves to place the cup down, glints of iridescent purples and blues catches her eye, and she glances at her sleeve.

“Jesus! What the fuck!? What the fuck!?” She hollers, tossing her book and shooting to her feet, flailing to get the bug off of her. When she pauses to glance around, in search of the little pest so that she could squish the fucker, she finds it crawling on another, much larger pest. “When I get my hands on you, you are so dead” Carol fires daggers at Daryl, who holds the insect with a victorious smile. “Don’ threaten him”

“I’m threatening you. Also ‘him’?” Carol rolled her eyes, and moved further when Daryl took a few steps towards the porch. “I found him by the wall but Y/n ain’t let me keep it”

“I applaud her for dealing with you, now shoo. You’ve completely ruined my reading time” The woman sighs and sits back down on the swing, picking her book off the floor. “Where’s Rick?” Daryl quipped, turning and scanning the area. Carol watched him quietly, a smile tugging her lips. It felt like only yesterday that the hunter was nothing but a locked box, never opening up or showing any form of emotion. Now, he was practically bouncing off the walls, more of a rowdy kid than anything else. It made Carol a little sad, knowing that Daryl never got to chance to be the rambunctious kid he was born to be.

She watched as he walked away, bug in hand and wings on his back. There was a first time for everything, she supposes.

Of course, this saying is true, because this is the first time Daryl is really putting his ass on the line. He bit back the evil smile creeping on his face as his eyes landed on his victim, who shamelessly flirting with his wife, totally oblivious to everyone else around him. Rick was rambling and yapping to Michonne, not taking his eyes off hers for a second as he spoke.

She smiled and nodded, listening and digesting whatever he was saying, occasionally adding commentary of her own. It was a casual conversation, and Michonne had started to move to kiss Rick, him doing the same and shutting his eyes in anticipation-

“Fuck! Fuck! The fuck?!” He yelled, jerking away from his wife and reaching a hand to his back, patting aimlessly around for the strange crawling sensation on him. “What’s on me?!” Rick spun around, and Michonne screamed. “Oh hell no! Nope! Nope!” The woman backed away, and as she did she spotted Daryl, as did Rick.

“Dixon!” Rick’s voice rang out through the community, followed by heavy running feet mere seconds later.

Daryl cackled as he ran from Rick, taunting him and mocking the mans angry shouts and insults. Also threats.

“You are so fucking dead Daryl!” Rick yelled from behind him, trying to increase his speed to get closer behind Daryl, who had no reason being as fucking fast as he was. “Please don’ shoot meh officer!” Daryl fake cooed, laughing but it was cut short by Rick ultimately deciding to take a leap of faith, crashing right into the hunterman, who almost instantly tightened all his limbs around Rick.

The men grunted and squabbled in the middle of the street, yelling and screaming at each other. “Stop it you dicksucker tha’ hurts!” Daryl wailed and kicked at Rick, who was twisting his leg. “Dicksucker? Must be missin’ the countryside huh Dixon?” Rick grumbled, releasing the kicking limb and latching onto Daryl’s arm, punching it when holding it down didn’t work. “Ain’t nothin miss ‘bout it, except ya wasn’t there” The man grunted, bringing his other arm up and grabbing onto a fist full of Rick’s curly hair, pulling on the strands. The man let out a pained yell, reflexively reaching his hand up to pry Daryl’s hand off, but that just let his other arm free.

When Daryl had slung his arm around Rick’s neck, bicep already tightly wrapped and flexed around it, the familiar creaking of a door caught his attention, turning his head to take in the house that they were fighting in front of. Your house.

Rick gasped for air when Daryl dropped him, coughing and about to take a swing at him when he also turned his head, both males now being stared down by you. Daryl more than ever.

“When I told you to take the bug outside, I meant back to where you got it, not on a tour around the fucking community.” You spat, arms folded over your chest. Daryl hung his head embarassedly, heat rising to his cheeks at the scolding. “Sorry mama”

“And you,” You looked at Rick, “You need to stop further provoking him because look how it ends each time” Rick furrowed his brows, “But he came to me first!” Pointing at the archer next to him. “Rick I don’t give a damn if chicken or egg came to you first” You rolled your eyes. “But-“ “No. This? This is very much over. You? You are very much in trouble.” You cut Rick off, descending the short steps and tugging Daryl off the ground by his vest, pushing him to go up the porch and into the house. “You? I’ll be letting Michonne know to keep you attached to her hip. Let’s go, Grimes”

Once you promptly delivered Michonne her loose dog, you made your way back to your house to deal with your own, sighing when the door shut behind you. Your eyes flickered over to Daryl, who was nervously sat on the couch.

“M’really sorry” He mumbled when you moved to stand over him, hands on your hips. “I didn’t wanna put him back”

“Daryl, you can’t just go around harassing people with bugs.” You shake your head at him, biting down on the inside of your cheek when Daryl shamefully looked away, face turning a shade of red. “But it was funny”

You sigh, “For you. Daryl, baby, some people are really afraid of bugs. I’m some people. Those things freak me the fuck out” reaching your hand down to lift his head up, brushing hair out his face. There were hints of guilt written on it, and you smiled softly.

“Hey, nobody’s mad at you, okay? You just have to be a little more aware of the small things” You kissed his forehead, once, twice, thrice, still smiling down at his flushed face. “Mama loves you” You whisper, and it cracks a small smile on Daryl’s lips, heart doing somersaults. “Love ya too” You kiss his head one more time, giving him a final on his lips before standing straight again. “Now that that’s over, I’m making something I think you’ll like” Your voice fades into the kitchen, Daryl following you. “Let m’guess; steak” He joked, but blinked when he peered over your shoulder. “I remember a very skilled hunter once telling me that ‘deer asses are tha’ best’”

“They are, ‘nd tha’s ‘bout to be tha’ best fuckin’ steak of m’life” Daryl bumped his hip against yours, playful smile tugging his lips. “Alright now. Don’t get rowdy in my kitchen” You eye him from the side, bumping his hip back as you lit the stove, using makeshift oil to butter the pan. Daryl slid a hand around your waist, kissing your shoulder before dropping his head there, mumbling a tiny “Sorry mama” next to your ear. You can’t help the smile the spreads on your lips, placing just one more kiss to the top of Daryl’s head.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

I think that ‘baby’ and ‘mama’ are like really cute for outside of the bedroom, it’s intimate while not being too explicit if that makes sense

me fighting my urge to explain how Daryls mommy kink spews much deeper than you guys think

each time i typed mama i kept imagining a furby saying it

anways your honor my babyboy is innocent

[venusandsaturnsrings]

Okay lemme just

I have jjk brainrot and lemme just try to categorise my thoughts instead of letting them go !!!!!!!!

GOJO:

-Special grade teaser, this man will have you begging and edging you till you're crying

-def into letting you wear his blindfold, bonus if you're tied up

GETO

Pet play, corruption kink, need i go on- also if going with bottom Geto, def whimpers if you tug on his hair

MEGUMI

Purely basing this on an rp i had with a friend- lactation kink. Absolutely down for 3 somes with his SO + Yuji, we stan a bi king

SUKUNA

Blood kink, marking, anyway he can show off that you're his. Prolly bites you on the darn daily

MAHITO (making this extra long for you <3)

Hear me out- virgin but freaky AF

Watersports, spit, blood, cum, he's down for anything

Def has fantasies about carving his name into his fav human toy (you <3) preferably on the chest for all to see

Wil push you to your limits, prolly sucks at aftercare but can be bribed ibto beibg the best with it jn return for some new games and toys *nudge nudge wink wink*

Bonus-

Geeting double penetrated by Mahito and Foul Legacy Taru <3

IM LISTENING IM HEARING U OUT IM BRAINROTTING WITH U!! i’m crafting up a silly au where everyone lives and no one suffers and everyone gets to be happy and go to uni together and and and… so given that, i’m writing gumi n junpei as over 18!! crazy to think about but in canon time im younger than all of them… fucked up how time works huh… ANYWAYS…

includes: this is just general headcanons building off what you said my dearest + adding a couple of my own thoughts!! has Gojo, Geto, Megumi, Sukuna, Mahito, and Junpei bc he is so special to me <3 i am one of 3 Junpei kinnies on this planet i swear…

i’m not a major Gojo fucker, if anything we have hate sex that is fuelled by pent up arousal and being big time touch starved… but the idea of him using his blindfold on you?? oh dear oh my… it’s both a big step in trust and vulnerability. given that he finds not having his eyes covered to be immensely overwhelming, i imagine there’d be a strong bond between him and his partner to do this. he’s used to seeing you through the way he detects energy, it’s second nature to him, but he’ll never quite get over what it’s like to actually see you with his real eyes. his fingertips are shaking and he can’t seem to look at anything other than your face twisted in pleasure as he denies you your nth release of the day; it’s a carnal satisfaction. he tends to be very mouthy and loud whenever you’re going at it but with you splayed out in front of him like this, your body shielded by absolutely nothing, he’s rather quiet as he takes in every inch of you. it’s a form of depraved worship, in a way, that he feels so compelled to hardly even breathe to appreciate you and only you as much as he possibly can.

i’d be a liar if i said i wasn’t terribly down bad for Geto. long-haired men get me good and he’s no exception… he’s 100% into pet play and corruption you hit the nail on the head!! it’s half a control thing and half a desire to please, he doesn’t feel a lot of power over his life and being able to get some of that from what you two do together his cathartic. he’s partial to cat girls, having a little kitty for him to play with and to kneel at his feet brings him satisfaction like nothing else. Geto is also the best at aftercare!! he’s very tender in how he treats you, already having a nice warm bath and a glass of water ready… anything you need, just ask, he’d give the world to stay by your side as long as he possibly can.

prior to this ask, i’d never actually thought of Megumi before… but, hear me out, going off of his thing of sharing you with Yuji, i think he’s into being cucked. i’m sorry to be the one to say it but to my core i believe this is true and canon… when it’s just the two of you, Gumi has the tendency to get a bit nervous and lost at times so seeing someone he trusts so deeply take the reigns and really work to make you feel good without hesitation gets him going. sometimes he does get a bit jealous of the way Yuji palms at your tits or the way he gets you to squeal so loud but ultimately he knows you’re his. even if Yuji offered to snag you away, you wouldn’t accept because Gumi is the one you want (reassure him from time to time though). plus, after watching so many times, he gains a better grasp on what to do!! i think he also likes letting Yuji instruct him on just how to fuck you proper. <3

Sukuna… you are a man of many wonders and arms. he is absolutely the biggest biter of them all!! will use his normal mouth most of the time but really enjoys using his stomach mouth to nip at your ass when he’s plowing you from behind as the way you yelp in surprise never fails to get him going. he loves that having four arms means he can keep your hips still, choke you, and grope at whatever skin he wants all at the same time; there’s never a part of your body that goes missed. despite his claims of not caring about humans, there’s nothing that he loves more than having you dangle off his arm and getting to touch you in a way nobody else ever could. also, two cocks absolutely. prepare yourself to be stuffed full, he’s partial to having them both balls deep in your pussy.

FREAKY VIRGIN MAHITO IS REAL!! he’s all about experimenting so there’s really nothing he wouldn’t try honestly, it’s more of a challenge to convince him to not do certain things *shivers*… but that does come with a lot of bonuses seeing that he won’t write off anything so it’s free game for you!! odds are he’ll enjoy anything so long as he learns something from it, if it gets him off then even better. he’s naturally most interested in anything that’ll induce pain, emotional or physical, and things that allow him to be in complete control (submitting to a human? fat chance). Depending on how exactly he sees you, and how ooc you’re willing to take, you’re either going to be a good ol fashion pump n dump that he brutally slaughters OR you’ll end up being his forever pet that he won’t let out of his sight for more than fifteen seconds… both are a unique form of suffering but it’s Mahito, so there’s really no white picket fence ending option… regardless, prepare yourself to be used in the grossest ways. he’s got a particular fondness for watersports and anything that results in blood, with a preference for knife play and good ol aggressive biting, simply because he likes seeing you become a filthy depraved mess even when he’s being so cruel. i have a vague concept for a human au but even then he’s a nasty freak with no boundaries!!

adding Junpei onto this because he’s so dear to my heart and also the biggest incel. affection doesn’t come easy to him especially when it’s sexual, he finds being on the receiving end to feel as though it’s only because you pity him. try as you might, convincing him otherwise is going to take some time but he has no problem understanding his own feelings to be true although he’s shy… major panty sniffer alert, he’s too scared to actually try anything with you but he’s got his needs!! stealing a cute white cotton pair from your hamper is the next best thing to him and he’ll spend the next week with them pressed to his face whenever he’s alone, dick rutting into his hand messily. it’s subconscious but he also has a habit of stalking you around a little bit when he’s too nervous to actually talk to you but he swears it’s an accident!! he didn’t mean to learn your whole schedule it’s just that he sees you doing certain things more often!! he’s supposed to be on the other side of the city at that time for work?? you’re delusional, he was just… sent there for some sort of project, nothing weird at all he’d never!! huge whiner btw, babbles a lot when he’s finally fucking you.

[sunnybeewriting]

peachy keen.

Hi guys! So I'm pretty new to writing and this is actually the biggest thing I’ve ever written. I watched The Way of Water when it came out and took an immediate interest in this guy, partially because I thought his character has a lot of potential, and partially because I also thought that he was really hot.

So I decided to set up a series of little works. This one is just sort of a beginning to the Reader’s character and Quaritch, and I do plan on writing more about them in the future with this fic as their base. Maybe do some AU’s, maybe just continue the story from here, maybe lead into the movie, who knows!

That all said, I really, really hope you like it! If you do, please give it a like or a comment!

WORDS: 15,000

WARNINGS: Adult themes and language

peachy keen. Part Two.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Your body jerks to a stop just before you can fully trip over your shoelace and faceplant onto the floor. Unfortunately, the leftover food on your plate could not say the same, jostled just enough that it went flying from your hands and onto the tiled floor of the mess hall.

You lean down quickly to clean it up, scooping the food with your fingers and back onto the plate as best you can. You succeed only halfway, goop just smearing across the floor and onto your hand.

You stare at the mess you made, ears and cheeks burning as you hear snickers of cruel amusement coming from some military meatheads a few feet behind you.

You jump up quickly, making sure to avoid your shoelace so you don’t trip on it again and embarrass yourself any further. You hurry to the counter holding the utensils, mugs, and paper towels, tugging several brown napkins out of the dispenser sitting on top. You take a deep breath to calm yourself.

Kneeling down so soon after sleeping for six years in a cyropod made the muscles in your legs and shoulders ache, but you do it anyways. You wipe up the mess as best you can, piling the dirty napkins onto the plate and dumping it all into a nearby trashcan. You wish the ground would swallow you up.

You aren’t usually so embarrassed by such a small mistake, but it had been a rough past couple of days for you. You had landed at Bridgehead City just a few days ago, and you had felt immediately overwhelmed by the extreme size of the fortress.

It took the RDA fifteen years to return to Pandora, but when they did, they made sure to put in roots. Bridgehead City was an enormous structure, constantly building upon itself and hosting thousands of military combatants, engineers, skel suits, construction robots, anything that was thought of to build and maintain humanity’s last stronghold. Every person of every imagined career was here, working as one like bees and ants had once done for their queens a hundred years ago, before they had both gone extinct. 

Bridgehead was terrifying to look at for the first time, seeing in person exactly how far humanity was willing to go to force itself onto another planet. You had noticed that it almost looked like a parasite, contrasting in color and material against the lively, glowing rainforest that surrounded it just past the barren land of the Kill Zone.

The wave of information that hit you the moment you stepped off the ship was almost enough to make your excitement to be on Pandora wither and die, but you held onto it with shaky, desperate hands.

Luckily for you, it wasn’t long before your enthusiasm bounced back and you met your new colleagues. Most of them had been just as nervous as you, clearly uncertain and overwhelmed. Knowing you weren’t alone made you relax just slightly. They were scientists hand-picked by the RDA as test subjects for re-opening the Avatar program, just like you.

None of you were really sure why the program had been stopped in the first place. The RDA was very quiet about what had happened all those years ago, when most of their military and scientists had been sent fleeing from Pandora with nothing but the clothes on their backs and tails between their legs. They refused to issue many statements, insisting that a minor misunderstanding had occurred with the ‘natives’ of the planet, and they’d be back soon enough to continue their mission.

The RDA had stated that the main reason for discounting the Avatar program was because the cost outweighed any benefit. The only reason they were allowing a few lucky souls to come to Pandora as Avatars was simply as a favor to the scientific community, and as a test to see if the Avatar program should be reinstated. Now the main purpose behind the program is to see if it’s worth it for people to be able to travel around Pandora without having to worry about the environmental protection systems, than a way to make peace with the Na’vi.

Most of the scientists in the base were only allowed restricted access to information regarding the past and current situation with the Na’vi, only knowing that The People were no longer accepting of humans on their planet and that the military is now on constant high alert. Most of the remaining records were classified to you, although you did try to learn as much as you could about what was happening on Pandora. Unfortunately, the RDA was very strict with that information, and you never found anything that mentioned the Na’vi or what happened fifteen years ago.  

The ten members of the new Avatar program had been divided into two parts of five, just to make the introductions and sessions easier. You had met your three new acquaintances, eager to make some friends. They had introduced themselves; Emma, a small, shy woman who preferred observing rather than participating; James, a sweet, handsome young man; and David, an older man in his late fifties who seemed a bit too haughty for his own good.

Your group was shown to your individual rooms over on the west side of Bridgehead, far away from the landing pads and ships you had arrived on. Your new room was small and gray with concrete walls and a thin layering of carpet covering the cold floors. You had a small desk that sat underneath a suction-locked window that let you glimpse into an enclosure full of construction robots, but at least the light it let in was nice. There was a simple cot in the corner and a mirror as the only piece of décor on the walls, but it was yours, a place you could call your own.

You had grinned tiredly and fallen face down on your bed without bothering to take off your shoes. You slept for fourteen hours, and when you awoke you felt as though you were rising from the dead, hair wild and mouth fuzzy. After you brushed your teeth, showered, got dressed in clean clothes, and ate food for the first time in six years, you felt like a brand-new person.

And here you are now, in the mess hall, already making a fool of yourself on your second week.

You quickly rush back to your table and plop your behind into the seat you had vacated to throw away your plate, sitting across from Emma and David. Emma is poking at her food, face pale and gloomy. David is almost done with his own dinner, glasses perched on his nose as he reads from a holotablet.

Geesh. These guys certainly weren’t known for being the life of the party back home.

Maybe they just need some more time to adjust? I know I certainly fucking do.

You take a moment to bend down and tie your shoelace, double knotting it, not wanting to cause any more scenes.

When you sit back up in your chair and make eye contact with Emma, your lopsided, embarrassed smile falls from your face when she simply stares back at you, clearly uneasy for some reason you can’t name.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking clumsy. And why the fuck does it look like you’re all attending a funeral over here?” The voice that chimes up behind you lifts your mood exponentially, and you turn around in your seat to greet the approaching form of the last member of your group and your best friend with a happy grin.

You had met Margot a few months before your trip to Pandora when you both attended a required conference that would discuss certain parts of living in Bridgehead. The second you struck up a conversation with her, it was like meeting your long-lost sister. You had instantly clicked, getting on like a house on fire and scarcely spending a day away from each other.

James arrives at the table with her, holding his own plate. He gives you a comforting look, clearly sympathetic to your embarrassment.

“Hey Margot, James! You saw that, huh?” you ask sheepishly, shoulders raising to your ears as you feel a hot flash of mortification all over again.

“Uh, yeah, honey, I saw. I’m pretty sure half the cafeteria watched you nearly eat shit. You need to learn to tie your shoes better, babe.” Margot’s voice is just as loud as ever, and her bright blonde hair and tall figure aren’t exactly subtle, either.

She was the type of person to grab someone’s attention and refuse to let it go, manicured nails digging in deep. Well, her nails used to be manicured. Now they were just as plain as everyone else’s.

She takes a seat in the empty chair next to you, setting her own plate down with a clatter. She untucks her cheap silverware from the napkin and digs into her dinner, eating hurriedly like someone is about to snatch the plate away from her. You had once asked her why she never slowed down to enjoy her food, and she said that with eight siblings if you wanted any food, you needed to eat it like an animal.  

James takes the other empty seat next to you, patting your shoulder twice before saying, “It’s okay, I don’t think that many people saw.”

You smile weakly at his attempt to make you feel better. It doesn’t help much, but you appreciate the thought, “Thanks, James.”

He nods and moves his attention to his plate.

Your table is silent for a few moments, everyone lost in their own thoughts and tasks.

You break the silence when you nervously ask, “So. Anybody else freaking out at the thought of linking up for the first time or is it just me?”

David looks up, paying attention to your words for the first time since you met him. “Well, I’m not nervous because I did all the pre-linking sessions and training years ago.” His nose is practically raised in the air.

You stare at him.

What a fucking douchebag. Who answers a question like that?

“That’s nice. What about you, Emma, are you nervous or excited? How are you feeling?” you ask gingerly, wanting to include her in the conversation. It would be nice to have another friend so that the next few years weren’t miserable.

Emma stares at you blankly, and then whispers a simple, “No.”

You lean back in your seat and deflate. “Oh.”

Fuck it, I tried.

Margot, the smug bitch, is watching you drown in social awkwardness as she happily munches away. You give her a look and a shrug, and she rolls her eyes before placing her fork down on the table. She dabs the corner of her mouth with her napkin, and then says to Emma, “Girl, I absolutely love that bracelet you’re wearing. Where did you get it?”

To your surprise, Emma perks up in her seat, right hand grazing the bracelet she wore on her left wrist. Her face softens, and she says, “It was my mom’s, actually.”

“Oh, that’s so sweet. Right?” Margot jabs her sharp elbow into your side, and you hiss but nod hurriedly.

“Yes, that is so sweet! I wear my mom’s wedding ring, actually.” You rub said ring with your hand. Your mood drops a little bit at the mention of your mother, but you shake your head to get back on track. “Makes me feel closer to her, I suppose.”

A small smile pulls on Emma’s cheeks, and she looks down, still rubbing the bracelet. “Yeah.”

You look at her, reconsidering your thoughts about her personality. 

Maybe it just takes a little time to connect, that’s all.

You fiddle with the small, emerald cut ring that you were on the ring finger of your right hand. It had been a piece of jewelry your mother had worn faithfully until the day she died.

When you were a child, around ten or eleven years old, you had asked her why your dad had chosen that specific ring to represent their marriage, out of the hundreds of others he could have.

She was still sick at the time, spending most of her days laying in a hospital bed while nurses bustled in and out. She had lost so much weight that her cheeks were gaunt, and her face and hands were so white they were almost transparent, pale blue veins clear through the skin.

Her lips were pale and chapped, and the dark circles around her eyes were deeply imprinted in her skin like bruises. She looked like a ghost, a fragile, terrifying imitation of the woman who had raised you, a woman who you had thought put the stars themselves into the sky. She was weak, and even before she passed away it was like she was already dead.  

She had gripped your hand as tightly as she could when you had asked that question, sweaty palm squeezing yours to the point of pain in a rare show of strength. She was usually so weak the nurses and you had to feed her by hand as she could barely lift up her arms. She looked you in the eye and pulled you close until your face was right next to hers.

In the croak that had now become her voice, she whispered, “I had asked the same question, years after he had proposed. I asked, ‘Jonathon, why this ring? Why this cut, why this color?’. And he had gripped me tightly and pulled me close and said, ‘Well, my love, it’s the breathtaking green color of your eyes. Your eyes and the ring match exactly, you see. And every time you look at it, you will see yourself the way I see you. Beautiful and bright.’

Tears had filled her glazed eyes, and she whispered to you, “No matter what, when you find the one you love, never let them go. Cherish every single second you have with them, never take them for granted, and make sure that they love you for everything that you are, the good and the bad. It is the purpose of our life. Love. Without it, we are nothing.” Against the tears and the agony that claimed her face and voice, your mother smiled for the first time in years.

Your father had passed away while your mother was still pregnant, killed in an easily avoidable accident. No matter how much your mother loved you before she had gotten sick, no matter how much joy you brought to her life, there was always a deep sorrow and grief inside her that consumed her soul every day.

She never got over your father, never dated or remarried or showed the barest hint of interest in anyone else. When asked why, she said that she had already had the love of her life, and there was no one who could ever compare to even the lingering ghost of your father that seemed to haunt her.

And when the sickness truly hit and reduced her to almost nothing, her anger and bitterness twisted her mind and her love for you into something cruel and abhorrent. 

Even years later you kept her whispered words locked away into the very muscles of your heart. Even though your mother had been sick and weak when she told you these things, it was one of your few beloved moments with her. It had shown you who your mother really was, past all the sickness and malice, who she really was deep in her soul. That she had once loved and been loved.

And now you wear her wedding ring as a reminder of your parent’s love for each other, and how regardless of your mother’s cruelty toward you during the last years of her life, your love for her would never fade.

You’re jerked out of your melancholy thoughts when Margot burps loudly and thumps a fist against her chest.

“Jesus Christ, Margot. Where the fuck did you learn your manners from?” James asks, recoiling in disgust.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost done, then we can go check out the linking center.”

You nod eagerly, so overwhelmed with anticipation and delight that your fingers tremor just slightly.

You are so ready to meet your Avatar and link up for the first time, but the thought of anything going wrong makes you restless. You wish you could just get it over with so you could stop agonizing over it.

Margot finally finishes her food and stands up to dump her plate. James does the same, and then all five of you are off, walking down a long hallway with lots of twists and turns. The fluorescent  lights shine brightly on the ceiling, and you can hear the distant sounds of never-ending construction.

Even with all five of you working together to get to your destination, the new buildings are too much for your group and you get lost in the labyrinth of hallways. James even has to ask a nearby custodian for directions once or twice. When you turn a corner, you spot a bathroom sign, and suddenly you have business to take care of. You pat Margot’s arm and point in that direction.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick. I’ll meet you there, okay?”

The rest of the group nods, but Margot decides to go with you. You do your business and you’re washing your hands in the sink when Margot makes eye contact with you through the mirror as she washes her own hands.

“I won’t lie, honey, I’m feeling pretty nervous about linking up as well. I know we’ve been through training simulations and have studied and practiced for years, but this is going to be different.” Her face and voice are uncharacteristically serious, and her hands shake just slightly as she pulls a towel out of the dispenser to dry her hands.

You feel a flash of sympathy for your friend, stopping your own drying. You walk around to her and put your hands on her shoulders, leaning your face close to hers.

“It’ll be okay, Margot, we’ve both got this. We just need to do it, and then it’ll be as easy as breathing before we know it, okay?”

Margot nods and takes a deep breath, looking down for a moment. When she looks up she’s much calmer, and her usual peppy attitude is back and shining.

“Thanks, sugar.”

You nod understandingly, releasing her shoulders and knocking her hip with yours as you walk toward the bathroom door. You both step outside into the hallway and continue your way.

“Of course. And besides, I’m just so ready to finally see her, you know? We’ve seen pictures and videos, but actually being there in real life is going to feel so surreal. The Na’vi are just stunning to me. Ooh, I almost forgot!”

You stop walking as you talk, scientist-brain taking over. Margot moves to stand in front of you, crossing her arms over her chest with an amused expression. This was far from the first time you had gone on a tangent.

“I saw someone from the recombinant unit when I was walking around yesterday, and he was fucking huge!”

You’re so busy trying to organize your thought flow into something sensible that you completely miss the approaching footsteps coming from behind you, and the way Margot looks over your shoulder and turns white.

You continue on, oblivious.

“He must have been pretty high ranking because the people with him followed him around like little ducklings. And the blue pigment of his skin was so beautiful. The color contrast of his eyes versus his skin kind of reminded me of a Primula ‘Zebra Blue’, you know, that blue and golden flower that went extinct like a hundred years ago? It was just amazing to finally see in person, and I-”

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?”

The deep voice that comes from behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You whirl around, expecting to come face to face with whomever just spoke. Instead, you come eye level with the belt buckle and zipper of a pair of navy green camo military pants.

Your heart drops to your shoes.

You tilt your head up, up, up, until it’s practically craning backward. The uncomfortable position hurts, but that’s the least of your problems.

Your biggest problem, literally and figuratively, is the cold eyes and carefully amused face of the man you were just talking about.

You open your mouth to speak but words refuse to leave.

Why does this shit always happen to me?

You clamp your mouth shut when no words appear and swallow nervously, and the man notices your tense expression.

He smirks down at you, almost sneering. From the way he towers over you closely, unconcerned with personal space, it’s clear that this man likes to have people’s attention on him, takes pleasure in scaring people with his massive height and muscles.

And his intimidation tactics completely work on you, that’s for sure.

Jesus, look at his hands. He could cover my entire face and upper torso with just one of them!

You want to put as much distance between this frightening man and yourself as possible. But there’s a little voice in the back of your head, a stupid, too-curious little voice, that want you to examine him all the way from the finger pads and palm lines of his hands to the tip of his tail.

He was terrifying, yes, but you are also stunned by the wonderful science and technology that made up his body.

Of course, you’d seen holographs and pictures of Avatars and the Na’vi people, but they could never hold a candle to the real thing.

The navy green tank top, tattoo, and dog tags were all familiar things, but his height and the bright, smooth blue color of his skin were brand-new to you, something you wanted to take a closer look at. His hair was shaved closer to his skull than any other you’d seen, Avatar and Na’vi alike.

His bright yellow eyes sear into yours, and it feels like he is trying to see into your fucking soul.

Your heart rate skyrockets, mortified and thrilled and fearful all at once. The pile of extreme emotions twists your stomach, making you queasy.

Do not fucking puke on his shoes.

The man takes a step back to make room for his massive arm before he lifts it up, clearly holding his hand between you for a handshake. It almost seems as though he is testing your nerve; you wonder how many people had chosen not to shake his hand, too frightened.

“The name’s Colonel Quaritch, pleasure to meet you. What’s your name.” It’s a demand more than a question.  

You look up at his face again before quickly wiping your hands on your lab coat to get rid of any sweat. You grab onto his hand as best as you can with your own, and holy shit.

His hand engulfs your own minuscule one and part of your forearm, his fingers reaching almost all the way to your elbow. And the skin of his hand is surprisingly soft; he doesn’t have as many calluses as you thought a marine would, but that might be because his Avatar body is fairly new. You tell him your name, and say,

“Uh, sorry, sir! I’m a xenobotanist from the science division, I got here about two weeks ago!” Your voice is squeaky and louder than you want it to be, making you cringe. You barely remember to shake his hand as you speak other than simply hold it in your own.

He continues to stare at you, wicked smile only growing when you say you’re a scientist.

“Ah, you tree-huggers are officially back, then. Part of the ‘newly instated Avatar program’, right?”

“Uh, y-yes, sir. That’s us.” You laugh weakly.

He barely twitches the fingers of the hand still holding your own, but the strength that comes from them is enough to make his grip almost painful.

“Hmmm. Well, I’m real curious to see how long you and your friend last before Pandora eats you alive. Just as a friendly warnin’, you should be real careful about what you say and who you say it about ‘round here. Guess I’ll be seein’ you. Peach.”

Your knees weaken and you nod hurriedly.

He finally releases your hand, gives you one last cold, golden look, and continues on his way. His bare arm brushes your shoulder as he passes you, and it’s enough to make you shiver.

He’s gone in just a few seconds, but you stay rooted in your spot, staring at the floor. You’re wondering if he’s going to come back and shank you with the wicked knife you’d seen strapped to his thigh when a hand gently presses against your shoulder.

You leap into the air for the second time that day, hand slamming into your chest and breath coming out in a gasp as you realize it’s just Margot. You’d completely forgotten she was even there, too consumed with the encompassing presence of Colonel Quaritch.

You look at her, eyes wide and mouth gaping. Margot returns your stunned look, face paler than you’ve ever seen it before.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You have the worst luck out of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life. What the fuck just happened?”

You gulp. “I’m pretty sure that a terrifying man who wouldn’t hesitate to gut me overheard me practically gushing about him?”

She nods. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You stand there, practically swaying on your feet. “Oh my god, he fucking hates me! Did you see the look on his face? Oh my god, why is this happening? I’m never going to able to leave my room again!”

You bury your face into your hands, suddenly exhausted. First the mess hall, now this? Why couldn’t you just not embarrass yourself for once?

Margot pats your shoulder as you groan. “There, there. It’s alright, all you have to do is avoid him for the rest of your life. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure the next time you see him he’ll either just ignore you or kill you for saying all that stuff about him, and then you won’t have to worry about it anymore!”

“But I didn’t even mean it in a bad way! I was just describing him, the same way I do with all unknown subjects.”

Margot winces. “Uh, yeah, I would definitely not tell him that.”

------

You feel like whining as you finally continue walking to the linking center. After all that, the excitement you had felt at meeting your Avatar had almost completely disappeared. Now, the only thing you wanted to do was crawl back to your room and hide underneath your blankets forever.

But Margot pulls on your hand and ignores your childish wishes. When you arrive, she practically has to push you into the room.

And then every single thing, all of your hard work, the training, the learning, even the awkwardness of that day, was suddenly all worth it when you saw her for the first time.

She was curled up in the tank, cords attached to her body and eyes moving behind her closed lids. She floated gently around in the liquid that surrounded her, sometimes twitching a limb as she slept on.

You approach the tank, mind blank and mouth dry. As you get closer, you can see the details of her face, your face, just shifted into the feline-like features of a Na’vi.

She stole the breath straight from your lungs.

And that was how you spent the next few weeks, gazing at her slash yourself. Eventually, the time came for the first linkup, and everything went well, just like you had told Margot.

You spent the next month linking into your Avatar and wandering around the facilities, checking your reflexes and consuming everything Pandora had to offer while still in the confined space of Bridgehead City.

The disorientation from linking was enough to make you lay in a cot for an half an hour each time, too dizzy to move much. It’s such a bizarre feeling, suddenly being so much taller than everything else, and you are so much stronger than you are as a human.

It took a long time to remember your strength, and you accidentally put dents into a metal door handle when you grabbed it, squeezing it much harder than you meant to. The tiny little humans helping you gave you a pretty wide berth after that, only approaching when necessary.

You practiced using your new body, walking around without sitting on your long-haired queue or stepping on your new tail, which flailed around with a mind of its own. You liked to press your tongue to your sharp canines and look at the swaying tendrils attached to your hair.

It was an exhausting, thrilling process, and you loved every second of it.

None of the new Avatars had yet to actually leave Bridgehead and go into the forest yet. It would probably take a few more weeks for that to happen, and even then, you would probably only be allowed into the tree line past the Kill Zone.

Still, you eagerly look forward to that day, barely able to contain yourself in your excitement. It’s all you can think of day and night, and even in your dreams. On that day, you would be accomplishing so much more than a lifelong goal.  

Now, your group is relaxing in one of the lounges used for breaks, discussing your experience with linking and Pandora. It was something you’d been talking about for the past few hours, the past few weeks, really. It wasn’t like any of you had very much in common with each other, other than your careers and education, but you were trying to dig a little deeper to learn more about these people.

The only problem was they were more antisocial than not, which was almost to be expected by a bunch of scientists. They were also hesitant to speak much about their past. You were the same way. They probably wouldn’t be here if they had a very pleasant past filled with lots of people they wanted to stay with back home.

You eat the small bag of crackers you’d snagged from one of the vending machines lining the gray walls of the room, hoping that the tiny treat will hold you until your next meal. The chair you are leaning back in creaks dangerously and wobbles, but you hold your precarious position, feet pulled up and crossed on the table in front of you.

Your mind wanders as the chatter of the group drifts in and out of your ears. You think of nothing in particular, dazing out of focus, simply relaxing for once.

That peace is shattered when James leaps from his chair further down the table where he and Emma sit. They’re playing an old-fashioned card game; one you’ve never heard of before. When you asked James where he learned it from, he said his great-grandfather had taught it to him. Something called ‘Go Fish’.

James raises his arms above his head in apparent victory, grinning fiercely.

“That’s round three for me, Emma!”

Emma is giggling behind her hand, cheeks flushed a bright pink. She keeps her eyes on James as he playfully postures at winning, and the sight of her joy makes you grin.

You look across the table at Margot and wiggle your eyebrows. She laughs quietly, nodding in agreement.

Sweet Emma and James. You’re almost surprised that they developed such an obvious, big fat crush on each other out of all people, given that their personalities are so different.

Maybe opposites really do attract?

Whatever the reason may be, you hope your friends find happiness in one another. The world could certainly do with more love.  

Margot scoffs in disgust and curls her lip at her empty plate, apparently already over the tooth-rotting sweetness that was Emma and James.

She throws down her silverware onto the table and leans back in her chair, pout firm on her face.

“The food here is ass! You’d think a multi-trillion-dollar company would be able to feed its employees with something other than more fucking oatmeal. I’m so damn tired of oatmeal! It’s been most of our meals for the past month!”

“The supply shipment is late, you know that.” Is all you say. There is nothing to gain from arguing with Margot when she gets into one of these hungry moods.

“Then they need to make it un-late and bring me my fucking muffins!”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that ‘un-late’ isn’t even a word, but I do agree with you. Oatmeal reserves are getting pretty old.”

Margot nods vigorously, leaning forward and placing her hands on the table.

“Coup? Coup? Anybody interested?”

You throw back your head and laugh, “Margot, we’re not going throw a coup just because there aren’t any muffins! I thought you had saved a bunch of snacks the last time this happened?”

Margot deflates. “I ate them all already and the vending machines are out of my favorites!”

“Oh, Margot.”

“I know! Somebody just put me out of my misery.” She plants her face into her crossed arms on the table, moping.

“You know, you always complain about the food here, Margot, but that never seems to stop you from scarfing it down,” James says, putting himself into your conversation. He sits in his chair still, shuffling the deck of cards as he smirks at Margot.

“I have to eat it, it’s the only thing they have here!”

You open your mouth to say something, only to pause when a big blue hand reaches around the curve of the open doorway like something out of a horror movie. You sit there, gaping, as Colonel Quaritch crouches down through the opening and steps into the break room.

Margot, James, and Emma see your startled face and turn to see what you’re looking at. When they see Quaritch, they all lurch out of their seats to stand up straight. The cards Emma and James were playing with go flying all over the table and the ground, and Margot nearly knocks her plate off the table.

Quaritch straightens up and stands, several feet taller than any of you. He rests his hand on the holster of the belt wrapped around his trim waistline and practically cocks his hip as he looks directly at you.

You’re still sitting, cracker packet now crushed to a pulp in your right hand. When he looks at you, you finally jolt up to your feet. You dust off the cracker crumbs from your shirt as best you can, anxiety filling you.

“S-Sir!”

What the hell is he doing here!?

He saunters into the room until he’s standing by the table, just a few feet from you. You crane your head up to look at him, baffled and worried.

“Is there…anything you need, sir?” You can’t help the way your eyebrows scrunch up as you ask, clearly confused.

He stares down at you, head tilting to the side as if pondering something. Eventually, he speaks.

“Walk with me.”

And then he turns on his heel and ducks out of the room as quickly as he had entered. You stand, frozen, turning a bewildered stare to your group of friends. They stare back at you, just as perplexed, until Margot urges you to follow him with a push of her hand on your back.

You get your limbs to move and start walking after him, exiting the break room and finding him waiting. Once he sees you’re following after him, he continues walking down the hallway without a word.

The silence is almost uncomfortable as you walk several hallway lengths away from the lounge to some unknown destination. You’re almost tempted to break it to ask where the hell he’s taking you, but fear of his biting words keeps your mouth shut.

His legs are so long that his stride is practically jogging for you, and you have to speed walk so you don’t get left behind. He notices you struggling but doesn’t slow down one bit. In fact, the bastard smirks meanly at your frustration and funny walking pace.

You scowl at his amusement but refuse to say a word.

Finally, Quaritch stops in front of an enormous metal door, and he takes a key from his pocket and twists it into the lock on the doorknob. He opens it and walks in, and then gestures for you to do the same with an impatient wave of his hand.

You hurriedly scuttle in, freaking out even more. If he’s taking you to his office then he must have something serious to talk about, right? Was he going to punish you for what you said, was he going to yell at you, threaten you? You’re practically sweating, fingers twisting as your imagination goes wild.

You take a moment to break out of your thoughts and look around.

You pause.

You stand in the middle of the room, eyes locked onto one thing and one thing only: the large bed laying flush up against the corner of the space.

Who keeps a bed in their office? Is the first thing that comes to your mind. Confusion rushes through you and you look around the room, taking in the closet doors, the large desk tucked into the corner across the room parallel to the bed, the empty walls just as barren as your own room.

Your own room.

Ohmygod I’m in his room. Why would he bring me to his room!?

You whirl around, and Quaritch is standing so close to you that your face nearly smacks into his crotch.

You leap backward with a yelp and jump when Quaritch barks out a loud, unfriendly laugh and then sneers at you.

“I would’ve taken you to my office before, but it seems I don’t have one of those anymore. So, this’ll have to do.”

Confusion layered with frustration comes back to you, and your eyebrows furrow. “Do for what, sir?” You barely remember to tack on the ‘sir’ at the end of your sentence.

His face suddenly breaks out into a sharp-toothed grin, and he leans back, smug once more. You were really starting to get tired of that expression.

“I have a… proposition, for you.”

You barely refrain from turning a wide-eyed, horrified look at the bed.

Under any other circumstance, if a man had taken you to his bedroom and said he was propositioning you, you would be real worried. Red flags would pop up in your brain, mind demanding you flee fast.

But these aren’t normal circumstances, given that one of his arms alone is almost as big as your body. And you didn’t really get the impression that was something he was looking for right now, so you shake your head to get rid of any crude thoughts. You refuse to lower your guard, though, still uneasy.

“Uh, a proposition, sir?”

“Yes. You see, I’m under the firm belief that to destroy your enemies, you have to think like ‘em, be like ‘em. Kill like ‘em, eat like ‘em, shit like ‘em, that sorta thing.”

He takes a step closer and you take one back.

“And if I want to have even a snowball’s chance in hell of finding Jake Sully and the rest of the natives, I’m going to need to put myself in their shoes, metaphorically speaking. But most of the people here are military, marines, people with no knowledge of the Na’vi except how best to kill ‘em.”

“So. Who best to teach me how to be Na’vi other than one of the soft-hearted, limp-dicked scientists who just eats up Na’vi shit like it’s Mamma’s home-baked cookies?”

His yellow eyes burn into yours.

“One specific little scientist came to mind, you see, when I was thinkin’.”

You knew it was coming, but that doesn’t stop you from blanching. You shove a finger in your chest and point at yourself like an idiot.

“Me?”

Quaritch finally leans back, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, you.”

You sputter, mind going a thousand miles per hour.

“But-but, I’m not even an anthropologist, sir! I study foreign plant and-and animal life! Emma, she is the one in anthropology, you should talk to her!”

Quaritch scoffs.

“Emma Rodrigo can barely string a sentence together without pissin’ her pants, let alone teach me to do anythin’.” He crosses his arms over his chest, muscles bulging. His wicked teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting as he grins.

“Nah, I think it outta be you. Peach.”

Shit, shit, shit!

I was right, I should have just gone to my room and never come out.

“But-”

“You can say no, ‘course. This ain’t an order.” The look in his eyes says otherwise. If you decline, you’re sure you’ll either be cleaning toilets for the rest of your life or found dead with his knife in your gut. There is no going easy with this guy.

You gape at him, dumbstruck by the bizarre turn your day had taken. You had hoped you would never have to see this terrifying man ever again, fully prepared to cower and duck out of every room you saw him in. Now, he was asking you, of all people on this base, to teach him?

While this guy had the height and look of a Na’vi, he seemed to utterly despise everything about them. Was it even possible for him to learn anything about the Na’vi, their culture and their language, for it to really make a difference in whether he found them or not?

You weren’t even good at teaching! You were far better at learning and observing than educating people, and you had never been interested in changing that. Could you really teach this guy anything? Was he even capable of learning?

Your face hardens as you realize you’re faced with no other choice but to accept.

I guess we’ll see.

“You know, if you’re too chicken-shit to help me out, I could always get-”

“I’ll do it.” Your voice comes out firm, as confidently as you dared to speak to him.

“…oh?” He raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. And skeptical, the asshole.

You nod your head, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You are nervous, yes, but it had been decided. There was no going back now.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. I’ll teach you everything you want to know about the Na’vi. But I-I also want something in return.”

His eyebrow raises higher.

You muster all the courage and audacity you can find in your body. Admittedly, there isn’t much, but you scrounge up enough to say the next few words aloud,

“In exchange for teaching you, I want you to teach me how to fight. I need to be able to protect myself when I’m out in the forest collecting samples, and I would ask one of my friends, but they can barely handle butter knives. And you are obviously…”

You eye him from top to bottom, eyes lingering on his massive arms before you can stop yourself.

“…capable.” You finish lamely, swallowing. You refuse to back down though, tilting your chin up and keeping eye contact.

Quaritch grins slowly.

“Well, little Peach, you certainly have bigger balls than I thought! It’s a deal-”

You hold your hand out for a handshake, palm open.

“To make it official.”

Quaritch glances down at your hand and then at your face, expression unreadable. And then, slowly, he reaches to grasp your hand and most of your arm once more. He pumps your entire arm down three times, eyes never leaving yours.

If you dared to think it, you might have thought he looked almost…impressed.

You clear your throat, face on fire. “So. When would work best for you, for our lessons?”

“…0500 every day for the next two months outta do it.”

Your eyes widen in horror, mouth dropping open all over again in protest. You barely keep yourself from grasping your chest in shock.

These military guys, did they never learn how to fucking sleep in!? That’s so damn early!

His sneering smirk returns to his face at your reaction, “Come on, Peach! Where’s your sense of adventure? You’ll tell me everything I need to know about the tree-fuckers, and I’ll teach you how to take a fist to the face, that sound good? About two hours each, four hours in total every single god-damn day. Good? Good.”

You sputter, hardly believing your ears. “Four hours every day? Don’t you have better things to do!?”

“Nope. My entire purpose for existing is to capture the traitor Jake Sully and end this war once and for all. With your help, I might actually be able to do that, which means that your time is now my time. Got it?”

You nod, queasy. It seems like all of your bravado from earlier had fled, leaving you with only the shakes and a bad feeling in your stomach.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl, Peach. Knew you had it in ya’!”

He claps your shoulder, and even through your shirt you can feel the warmth leaching off his hand and into your own skin.

The grin he wears makes you shiver, and you suddenly feel like prey that had just been caught by a predator, sharp teeth sinking into your neck and bleeding you dry.

He leads you to the door of his bedroom and practically tosses you out, done with you now that he had gotten what he wanted. He barely gives himself a chance to say, “See you bright an’ early tomorrow morning, Peach!” before he is slamming the door in your gawking face.

You stood outside his door for a few moments, simply processing. Eventually, you’re able to make your feet unstick from the floor and you wander back to the break room in a daze, mind clouded.

I can’t fucking believe that just happened. This is going to change my entire schedule for the next few months! Jesus Christ.

You practically stumble through the hallways toward your destination. Once you reach the door to the break room, you lean your arm against it and press your forehead into your arm. Your eyes close, and your heart jackhammers in your chest.

I don’t there’s anyone in my entire life who has ever made me as nervous as that guy. Holy shit.

You take deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and get some air into your lungs. It takes a few moments, but eventually you’re able to get your heart rate down to a steady pump.

You lick your lips, suddenly parched.

When you lean up from your perch against the door and open your eyes, you can see the faint form of your face shining up from the metal of the door. Your pupils are blown, eyes still wide, and your cheeks are red.

He is seriously the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever met. And now I’m going to have to teach him things! I don’t know how I’m going to do it without passing out a few times, ohmygod. This is going to be miserable.

You swallow as best you can with a dry throat and shakily reach up to fix your messy hair, smoothing down flyaways. You straighten your shirt, crack your neck, and plaster a calm smile onto your face.

There’s no reason to let them know how terrified I am.

You open the door to the break room and step inside, ready to answer any questions they must surely have, and…

The room is empty.

You deflate, hand rubbing down your face and feeling embarrassed.

Of course they wouldn’t wait, we have a linking session in thirty minutes…that I am now late for. Fantastic.

------

You spend the rest of the day completely distracted, too worried about what might happen the next morning. It even took longer than usual for you to link into your Avatar, and when you were finally able to get outside, you had to answer to the swarm of nosy scientists you called your friends.

They were just concerned, you knew, but you didn’t like having to relive the entire stressful event down to the last detail. Still, you gave in and spilled, telling them about Quaritch’s ‘proposition’ (ha!) and leaving out the part where he had taken you to his bedroom.  

They had all given you looks that ranged from horrified -Emma-, sympathetic -Margot and James-, and utterly uncaring -David-.

You start drinking from your water bottle franticly after you tell them everything, feeling anxious all over again.

“Well, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing,” Margot says, expression turning contemplative. All members of your group are sitting outside around a creaky wooden table in your Avatar forms, enjoying the fresh, sweet air and the bright light of Pandora as the rays warm your cyan skin. When you tilt your head back to let it shine on your face, it almost feels like home had been before the pollution clouded the sky.

Your hearing in this form is incredibly sensitive, and it hurts to hear the loud, never-ending beeping and rumbling of production taking place. It had taken you weeks to spend much time outside, and even then, you still sometimes have to put your hands over your big pointy ears when the sounds become too overwhelming.

Margot curls her large fingers underneath her chin and props her head up in her hand, “I mean, you’ll learn to protect yourself, so there’s that. Also, um…” She looks at the rest of the group mischievously, and they all get questioning looks on their faces.

She clears her throat and leans in closer to you. She puts a hand in front of her mouth, blocking it from the others, and whispers into your ear,

“I really, really wouldn’t mind getting to see how big his dick actually is and maybe you’ll get a chance.”

You choke on the water pouring into your mouth, spraying it all over the table you are sitting at. The liquid gets caught in your throat, causing you to cough painfully.

“Oh my god, Margot!” you screech, still coughing into your elbow and voice coming out scratchy. Your watery eyes glare at her over your arm.

Margot shrugs, “What, I was just saying what we were all thinking. He’s the biggest guy here, which has gotta mean something, right?” She wiggles her eyebrows and grins salaciously, and you bury your face into your arm.

“If he ever heard you saying anything like that, he would put his knife straight through your face without even hesitating!”

“I’ll let him put something else in my face if he wants.”

“Margot!”

It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed that Colonel Miles Quaritch was a beautiful man. It would be impossible, really. Despite the sneer he always seemed to have on his face, the deep cyan of his skin, his wide, golden eyes, and his tall, broad frame were enough to make anybody swoon.

And his feline features weren’t the only thing that made him attractive. You could see his beauty in his long-fingered and broad hands, in his high cheekbones, in the curve of his lips even when they were curled up in disdain. 

It wouldn’t surprise you to learn that a lot of people thought he was attractive just because of his attitude, either. Back home it seemed that everyone was interested in the cocky, proud, manly posturing that Quaritch seemed to like to do.

But despite how pretty he may be, he was also absolutely, shit-your-pants terrifying, and an asshole, which was enough for you to keep it in your pants. That, and the fact that he hated your guts.

“Trust me, Margot, I’ll be too busy trying not to piss him off again to see how big anything is.”

Great, now I’m thinking about his dick.

Margot rolls her eyes but leans back in her seat and drops the subject, “Your loss, then.”

James strikes up a new topic, just as embarrassed as you, and you slouch gratefully back into your seat, glad that the interrogation is over.

It’s nearing darkness by the time you all finish your linking sessions, and the group shuffles their way back into the sleeping center for the Avatars. You move over to your assigned bed, crawling under the soft sheets and sighing deeply.

You lightly traced your right-hand index finger over the smooth skin of your left arm, causing goosebumps to rise. It was still so strange, being able to actually feel with a body that was yours but not, having so many new features that you still have to adjust to even weeks later. Having a whole-ass tail, being several feet taller than any human alive, having super strength, hell, even being blue was still just totally fucking weird.

You lay back into the cot and attempt to clear your mind from any thoughts, but it was just as hard as it had been when you had linked earlier. After a few minutes, you are finally able to silence your mind and drift off just enough for the link to become secure and for you to wake up in the gel link bed, back in your human body.

By the time you walk to your room, you are bone-wary, almost stumbling on your feet. You dread the coming morning, and the only thing you want to do now is turn off your brain and rest. Your shoulders hurt from the stress of the day, and when you finally unlock your bedroom door, take off your clothes, shower, and brush your teeth, you’re practically hunched over.

You shuffle under the covers once again, and you’re unconscious before your head can fully settle onto the pillow. 

------

Your eyes pop open, arms and legs flailing wildly in your sheets as you struggle to reach over to your alarm clock to silence its screaming. When you finally smack it, the crack of your hand connecting with its durable metal makes your palm sting angrily.

You let out a hoarse groan, cradling your hand to your chest as you flop down onto your bed. It had barely felt like you had gotten a wink of sleep last night, too busy thinking about your approaching morning with Quaritch. Scenarios ranging from you accidentally stabbing him to him purposefully stabbing you ran through your head, keeping you awake after only a few hours of rest.

Eventually, you stop your moping and reluctantly pull yourself out of your bed, eyes blearily glaring around your room.

It’s still a gray and sad little space, your room, but you had placed the small number of personal items you brought with you to Pandora throughout it. The one picture you had of your parents sits framed on your desk, along with your holotablet.  

The few items of clothing and the two pairs of shoes you owned were put up in your closet haphazardly, and your hygienic amenities were scattered across the small bathroom connected to your room.

Your room and areas beyond it are all so generic and boring, which is why you spend most of your time either with your group or outside in your Avatar, being able to run around and feel. And once you were finally able to leave Bridgehead, your life would start, and it wouldn’t matter what your room looked like.

You tiredly get dressed and brush your teeth and your wild hair, putting it up into a simple ponytail to keep it out of your face. Once you’re suitable, you head out and lock the door behind you, placing the key in the right pocket of your jeans.

The hallways are quiet for once, and even the incessant roaring of construction has stopped. You walk down the softly lit hallways to the mess hall, unreasonably jealous of the people who get to sleep in their beds.

Most of the lights are off when you walk in, but to your surprise, there are a few people sitting down at a table already eating their breakfast.

Guess my assumption about the military was right, they really don’t know how to sleep in.

To your delight, there is a light amount of muffins and bagels laid out on a table nearby, but the most important thing was the coffee pot next to them.

Looks like the shipment finally came in. Margot is going to piss her pants.

You gladly snag two muffins with napkins and two small cups of coffee, heading right back out the door to the hallway with a friendly smile to the person walking in. They look blankly back at you, but you don’t mind as you stuff a chocolate chip muffin into your mouth as you walk.

You shuffle the remaining muffin and cups into your left hand and elbow crook, grasping the cold metal handle of the glass door that leads into the center with your right hand. You can see a head of black curls poke out from the side of a monitor, followed quickly by a scowl and a pair of eyes glaring blearily at you as you walk in.

You wince. “Morning, Tom. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it.”

Tom had been the unlucky soul you had asked to help link you into your Avatar every morning for the foreseeable future. He had balked when you had asked, saying “Hell no!” before the words were fully out of your mouth. You had leveled him with your best begging look and offered to pay for six of the ridiculously expensive books you know he liked to read coming in on the next supply shipment.

He grouchily agreed to the deal but demanded you bring him breakfast every morning. You had accepted with a pleased smile.

Tom rolls his eyes and snatches the cup of coffee from your hand when you offer it. You’re about to warn him about how hot it was when he gulps half of it down. You watch, halfway impressed and halfway feeling the pain for him in your own throat.

“Let’s get started, then.” His voice is even more crackly than yours is this early.

You nod hurriedly and take one last sip of your coffee before you reluctantly set it down on the table. You walk over to the link bed and crawl in, and Tom pulls the cover down over you. You settle in, closing your eyes to clear your mind.

------

“There ya’ are, Peach! I was startin’ to think you’d chickened out on me.” Quaritch’s loud voice startles you out of your sleepy trance, and your head snaps up from where it is laying against the metal table you are sitting at.

The asshole looks as awake and lucid as usual, not a hint of tiredness on his face. He grins nastily when he sees your sleepy expression.

“We didn’t agree on a place to meet up, sir.” You are barely able to cover your yawn with a hand, and you stand with a grimace.

“That is true. From now on, we’ll do our lessons in Courtyard Six. Try to keep up.”

He turns and walks away, clearly expecting you to follow. You hurry to catch up with his long stride, but it’s much easier to do in this form. He’s almost ten feet tall, but your Avatar is eight and a half feet tall, and you are able to lengthen your stride to match his pace. Your shoulder width and muscles are still much smaller than his, but you imagined most were.

As you step in close to him, your nose twitches, and you realize something that almost makes you trip.

Quaritch smells really, really good.

You lean in closer to him and inhale discreetly, deeper than before, and, yep, that scent is definitely coming from him.

It is such a rich scent, a strange combination of rainwater, black coffee, and something smoky, like a campfire.  

The smell is so strong that it feels like a physical mist floating its way through your nose and ears and into your head. Your mind goes fuzzy, as if suddenly stuffed with cotton. Your lips and fingertips tingle. And to your absolute horror, you can actually feel your mouth start to water.

It’s just such a lovely scent.

Do you think he’d be okay with it if I pressed my nose into his neck to smell him better-No!

You try to break out of the mist, shaking your head to get rid of the images of licking up his neck, tasting his skin, the way his head would tilt back and you would be able to feel his rumbling groan spread through his chest pressed up against your own and-

Stop it! Jesus Christ, don’t even think about it!

This is just a completely normal physical reaction, right? Maybe, but it wasn’t like this with the other guys!

In front of you, Quaritch’s footsteps stutter to a stop for a split second before resuming. It’s barely a pause, but it’s enough to make you snap out of your thoughts and look up at him. When you do, you notice the slight twitching of his own feline-like nose.

Is he smelling the same thing?

He turns his head around slightly to look at you, and you make eye contact with him just enough to notice his pupils are blown out, consuming most of his iris.

My eyes are probably no better, you think, before ducking your head to watch your feet as you walk.

Quaritch stares at you for a moment and then turns his attention back toward the path, and you do the same. You discreetly rub at your sensitive nose, trying to get his fantastic scent out of your head. A few moments after you do, Quaritch rubs at his own nose.

It doesn’t work, but by the time you reach the courtyard you’ve already gotten a little used to it. Thankfully you don’t feel as lightheaded anymore, but you have no idea if it is going to come back.

You notice that the sky has begun to lighten up as Quaritch unlocks the chain-link gate leading into the yard. Not that you really need any light, what with being able to see in the dark and all.

 He stops once you enter and closes the gate behind you, and you can immediately tell why he had chosen this courtyard out of all the others. It was hidden behind a big wall of concrete that had no windows, so nobody could see you from inside the building, and it was positioned all the way in the back of the court section, meaning it was far more remote and private than the others.

Probably doesn’t want his tough guy image to be hurt when people saw him learning about the Na’vi and chatting with a little scientist, the prick.

The enclosure is a simple little area with a small basketball court, a tetherball pole, and a metal table. Nothing special, but it would be perfect for your lessons. 

He turns around to meet your eyes, and you still have to tilt your head back to return his yellow gaze. The bioluminescent markings on his face glow brightly.  

“You wanna go first, Peach?”

You swallow nervously but nod, “I’ll go first. I thought a lot about what our first lesson was going to be last night.”

You drop down onto the soft faux grass that covered the courtyard, legs crisscross applesauce in front of you as you avoid sitting on your flicking tail. You look up at him expectantly when he continues to stand.

Quaritch looks at the table sitting just a few feet away and shrugs. He plops down onto the grass hesitantly and crosses his legs in front of him the same as you. Now that he’s actually here, all the plans you made completely leave your brain, and you mind turns blank as you struggle to come up with something to say. You both sit there in silence for a few moments before he says,

“So are you actually going to say anything in this lesson or what? Usually I can’t get you quacks to shut the fuck up-”

“Sorry, sorry! I’m just trying to figure out where to start. Um…” Your brain flashes to what Quaritch had said when he started this whole thing, wanting to learn more about the way the Na’vi think, what’s important to them, how they work.

“Okay. Well, I guess the first place to start would be at the very beginning. Millions of years ago, when-”

Quaritch interrupts you with a loud groan, throwing his head back in exasperation, “I’m not askin’ for a history lesson here, Peach. Just tell me about them now, how they operate now, in this time, not millions of years ago! Jesus Christ, you pretentious assholes always have to drag things out-”

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry! Um, so the most important thing to know about the Na’vi is their connection to nature, their connection to Eywa. You’ve heard about Her, right?”

You continue to speak when Quaritch nods. “Right, well, She protects the balance of life here on Pandora, and the Na’vi love Eywa, the Great Mother. All things on Pandora are connected to each other through Eywa; you, me, plants, animals, you name it. Life and the forest are sacred to them because it bonds them to Eywa. They can actually speak to Her, and there are places like the Tree of Souls and the Tree of Voices that are sacred to them. They connect all the Na’vi to Eywa and to their ancestors, and they can actually hear the voices of past living people, isn’t that amazing? Are you with me so far?”

Quaritch nods again, surprisingly quiet. In fact, it’s probably the longest you’ve ever seen him be silent. His face is carefully blank, eyebrows furrowed with some unnamed emotion as he listens to you speak.

And that’s how the next two hours go, you talking and Quaritch listening with rapt attention. You had no idea if what you were talking about was anything Quaritch wanted to hear, but he didn’t interrupt you other than to ask a rare question.  

About an hour in you stood up and stretched, bones popping and limbs aching from sitting on the ground for so long. Your ass was practically numb, and your left leg was stinging with pins and needles. You put your hands on your hips and looked down at Quaritch, who remained sitting on the grass.

For the first time ever, you were actually the one towering over him, and the thought made you grin as he looked up at you.

It seemed he could tell what you were thinking, because he scowled and pulled himself up on his feet, looming over you once more. He stretched his long arms above his head to get the blood flowing back in, groaning just like you had a moment ago.

You paused your own movement, gaze lingering on the way his strong muscles shifted underneath his pretty blue skin. They bunched up as his arms flexed, and your mouth turned dry.

Your eyes flickered over them for a few moments and then shifted to his face. Your stomach swooped low as you realized he had caught you looking, and you stared at him in mortification as his sneering, arrogant smile returned full force to his face. He looked so smug.

You had no idea your Avatar could even blush from embarrassment, but your cheeks burned all the same. You hurriedly turned your gaze away from him entirely, eyes squeezed shut.

He let out a low, unpleasant chuckle, clearly taking immense pleasure in your misery.

Asshole!

You stood for a few more minutes, back facing him as you pretended to examine the sky with incredible interest, waiting for your blush to fade and your stomach to settle. Eventually, you both sat on the grass once again, and you resumed your speech.

You talked about all things Na’vi related, from their connection to Eywa to what they wore, what they ate, their ceremonies, anything that popped into your head that you felt was important to mention.

In the grand scheme of things, you weren’t able to cover very much ground before your two hours were up and your lesson ended for the day.

By this time, Pandora’s light has returned from the eclipse, shining down brightly on both of you.

“So, how did I do?” you dare ask Quaritch.

“Well. Now I know what a Na’vi eats for breakfast, so. That’s something.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands, “I’m sorry, you said you wanted to know what they ate and everything! I promise we’ll eventually get into the more interesting and important things.”

Please don’t put me on toilet duty. I can do this!

Quaritch sighs, but says, “Don’t worry, Peach. We’ll get to the juicier parts someday. Learning to be one’s enemy is a long process, after all.”

He smacks his thighs, and the sound makes you jump, face moving away from your hands. Your nerves reignite in your stomach all over again as you realize it is now time for your lesson.

Why did I ever ask him to do this!? I should never have said anything, now I’m going to be Quaritch’s punching bag for the next few months! Idiot!

A sharp-toothed grin stretches over Quaritch’s face, and he leans in until he’s right in front of you, face close to yours. His yellow eyes bore into yours, and you can see your own terrified expression reflecting right back at you.

“Time for me to teach you, Peach.”

------

 “Alright, Peach. You know how to handle a knife?”

You think about it and shake your head.

“…Okay. Do you know how to throw a punch?”

Again, you shake your head.

Quaritch curses and takes a step back, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the middle finger of his right hand between them as if praying for patience.

Both of you are standing in the middle of the small basket court, facing one another. You refuse to feel embarrassed by Quaritch’s reaction to your fighting skills, or lack thereof.

Not everyone can be a terrifying killing machine, asshole!

Quaritch seems to get the patience he was asking for, straightening up with a sigh.

“Back to the basics, then. Jesus.”

He steps up to you and places his warm, large hands on the bare skin of your shoulders. He shuffles you over closer to him, and you go willingly, body tense.

“First step in learning to defend yourself is to not be a pussy.”

Wow. Wonderful advice.

“You need to be firm in your stance and your attack, else your opponent will just be able to knock you off your feet before you can even land a hit. And if your limbs are loose, you’ll lose your balance and go flying just from your own force. Keep your core tight.”

He places a large hand firmly against the bare skin of your stomach and you suck in a surprised breath. His touch tingles through you in a way you’ve never felt before, and you look up at him with wide eyes.

He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. He walks around toward your back, and you can see the veins in his arm shift when his hand flexes by his side.

“When you throw a punch, you need to keep your wrist straight and fully extend your arm each time. Make sure you step like this,” he demonstrates, “and pull your arm like this.”

“Keep your thumb behind your index and middle fingers but out of your fist, don’t stick your pinky out, and you want to hit your opponent with these knuckles right here. Got it?”

You nod slowly, making a fist following his instructions with your right hand. He nods once and then moves in front of you. He lifts his hands in the air, palms facing outward.

“Hit me.”

Already? But I barely even- alright, you know what, I don’t even care anymore.

You shake out your arms self-consciously and try to position your body in the way he had shown you. You pull your arms up, hands folding into fists, stance widening, and you lash your arm out at him with all the strength you can muster.

Your right fist smacks against his open palm with a satisfying thwack, and you grin, tossing your arms above your head at your success.

“Your form was good, Peach, but your fist felt like getting hit with a bug. You need to work on your strength, build up your muscles and your core. Try again.”

You nod, arm flying out and hitting his palm once more.

“No, you need to keep your arm tucked in, not flying out like an idiot bird with a broken wing. Again.”

You hit his hands over and over for the next half an hour as he corrects your form and stance. As he said, you need to build your strength up in this new body, but this was a good start. He has to get in pretty close once again to show you how to move your body, but other than he seems to keep his distance.

You know, this isn’t so bad!

You hit him again a few more times before he nods, satisfied, and drops his arms.

“Now you know how to hit somebody hard, Peach. Always go for sensitive places, like the nose, groin, ears, eyes, kidney, wherever you can reach. Got it?”

You lower your own arms, panting. Reaching out to punch him hadn’t taken much movement from your arms, but doing it over and over again for half an hour made them ache terribly. You struggle to catch your breath.

It had been embarrassing, admittedly, the first few times. You had felt shy and scared all at once, unsure of yourself and uneager to be anywhere near Quaritch, let alone close enough to touch him.

Then you’d lost most of the fear the second time he had lightly smacked your cheek when he got through your defensively positioned arms. They were pretty much love taps, practically pats, but it had lit an angry fire in your stomach. Your uneasiness turned to determination to land at least one hit on him, and you forgot all about your trepidation and that this was Quaritch you were tussling with.

From the way he had grinned and curled his fingers in a ‘come-hither’ gesture, that was probably what he had been trying to do.

He also probably just liked hitting you, the dickbag.

Quaritch nods, and you fully expect him to end the lesson early for the day. What you weren’t expecting was for him to reach down and pull a massive knife from its sheath on his right thigh, bringing it up toward the light for examination.

You lean back quickly, ears flicking to the sides of your head in alarm. You had thought your punching lesson had seemed tame for him! It really wouldn’t surprise you if he decided you needed a lesson on keeping your guard up and lunged at you.  

He won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me, he won’t stab me-

“This here’s a bowie knife, seventeen inches of serrated steel strong enough to cut through bone.”

He waves it around carefully, smirking at your wide-eyed look of terror.

“And this…” he leans down to put the knife back in its sheath before pulling out something else from a different pocket on his right leg, “This is your knife.”

The little knife is comically small in his giant hand, more of a switchblade than anything else.

“That’ll be the knife you use for the next week at least, so don’t lose it.”

You pluck it from his hand gingerly, fingers folding around the base as you bring it up to your eyes for closer inspection. It looks bigger in your hand than it did in his, and you can see his initials, M.Q, engraved on its tiny metal handle.

Why the hell would a guy as big as Quaritch even need a knife this small? Does he use it as a toothpick?

Nonetheless, you’re glad he didn’t give you anything bigger to use for your first time. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it without stabbing yourself.

He shows you how to hold it, how to slash and stab, the proper way to stand and lunge with the little blade.

After another half an hour, he nods.

“Alright, now I want you to try me.” He says, pulling his arms up close to his chest and goading you on once again with a ‘come at me’ curled hand gesture, cocky smirk in place.

You balk. “You want me to charge at you with a knife already? We just got started!”

“Yep, sure did. What, you think you could actually touch me, let alone hurt me with that little thing? Ha!”

You wince. That’s a good point.

You do what he taught you to, adjusting your grip on the blade and positioning your body and feet into the dirt, tightening your core. You take a deep breath, strengthen your muscles, and then leap with a cry.

Quaritch shifts out of the way of your knife quicker than you had yet to see him move, simply stepping to the side with an unsurprised expression.

You go sailing past him, war cry turning panicked. You drop the knife and jerk up your arms to cover your face, turning away and squeezing your eyes shut.

Just as you start tilting toward the dirt, a hand grips the back of the collar of your shirt and pulls you upright before you can even realize you aren’t falling anymore. You remained positioned for impact, hands still in front of your face to cushion your fall even as you stand on your own two feet.

You open your eyes and blink, hands patting down your front as if to make sure no injury had been done to your person.

Quaritch lets go of your collar, knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

“That was fuckin’ pathetic! It was like a wet paper bag was throwin’ itself my way. And where the hell did you learn to cry out like that, ‘cause it was fuckin’ embarrassin’.”

You pay no attention to his harsh words, still stunned you hadn’t face-planted into the dirt for once.

You look up at him, starry-eyed.

“That was amazing, Quaritch! You moved so fast I could barely see you! Have you always been that quick or is it new? Could you teach me how to dodge like that?”

He stares down at you, ears flicking back against the sides of his head. An odd expression crosses his face, almost as though he was taken aback by your wonder.

He clears his throat awkwardly, turning to the side to avoid your strong eye contact.

“That doesn’t matter, not with that pathetic performance. You need ta’ be firm, like I said, and not throwin’ your weight ‘round like a pussy. Come on, do it again.”

You reach down into the dirt to pick up your little knife, and you lunge at him again. He dodges all the same, but you surprise the both of you when you don’t stop, turning around and slashing in his direction.

Of course, the blade doesn’t even touch him, but it’s the thought that counts.

He grins at you, “There you go, Peach! Way to show some initiative, I’ll make a fine soldier out of you yet. Let’s go again, come on.”

And that’s how you end your morning, trying to stab Colonel Miles Quaritch with a knife the size of one of his fingers. You’d have never thought this was where you would be when you met him all those weeks ago, but hey, if learning from him would one day save your life, you’d do it gladly.

By the time two hours have passed, you’re sweating and panting for breath, hands on your knees. Your body was still new, and you hadn’t been in it long enough for you to get past light jogging and reflex training. Honestly, the fact that you were able to do all that moving without collapsing was a god-damn miracle.

You were so much faster in this form, so much more flexible and stronger. Still, that held no comparison to the trained, experienced combat vet you were practically playing with. Because that’s what this would be called, not fighting or even training. It was like playing tag or a slapping game, cause that’s all that happened for the entire lesson.

Quaritch, the fucker, doesn’t have a drop of sweat on him. His chest rose and fell evenly, and he rested one of his hands on the gun holster he had wrapped around his hips.

“You good, Peach? Not going to puke, are ‘ya?” You’d be flattered by his concern for your well-being if it weren’t for the mean, amused tone layering his voice when he spoke.

You stay bent over for a few more moments as you struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, you’re able to rise fully upright. You answer his question, even though you know it was rhetorical,  

“I-I’m good, I think.”

Just as you finish your sentence, your stomach growls angrily, as though enraged at being denied sustenance.

Ugh.

If you weren’t exhausted and beyond caring about what Quaritch thought of you, with your floppy, sweaty form and shitty punches, you would have been embarrassed. Now, though, the only thing you do is pout. Now, you were just a little pissed and tired at getting your ass thoroughly kicked for two hours.

“I’m hungry, can we be finished for the day?”

Quaritch rolls his eyes, unimpressed, but relents.

“Yeah, Peach, we’re done. Let’s get goin’.”

You grin, relieved, and your energy returns just slightly at the thought of lunch. You bound to his side, and he leads the way out of the courtyard and into the space beyond.

The day is in full swing, scientists, soldiers, robots, and trucks all bustling around Bridgehead as you follow Quaritch close on his heels to the mess hall.

You pass by all the tiny little humans, most of whom don’t even spare either of you a glance. Either because they were used to seeing ten-foot-tall Avatars walking around or because they were too busy to give a shit. Probably both, really.

You both have to duck as you walk through the doorway, Quaritch much more than you. You walk over to the table where you had snagged the muffins for breakfast earlier that morning, grabbing three of the sandwiches that were there now instead.

Quaritch grabs six of them, piling them all onto his plate.

You’ve just started scarfing yours down when a large hand whips out across your back, slamming into you. You inhale instinctively and start choking on your food, struggling to breathe. You turn around, fully ready to smash your sandwiches into the face of whichever fucker did that when you see Quaritch’s walking away, waving the spare hand not holding his food up behind him.

“See you ‘round, Peach.”

Oh. Well, at least he said goodbye.

You drink from the water bottle you’d snagged from the mass hall and eat your sandwiches as you walk to the showering station for Avatars. You stay under the pounding warm water longer than you probably should, enjoying the way it soothes the ache in your tense arms and shoulders.

After you’re done washing away the sweat and grime, you head back to the Avatar resting area, ready to be in your own body.

It had taken you a while to learn how to hold onto the brain link connecting your bodies; the first few weeks were the worst when you were learning to hold it longer and longer. Sometimes it would break, and you would slam back into your human body with a gasp, disoriented and head pounding.

Now, though, you were much better at holding onto the link for longer periods, even if it still gave you a headache.

You settle back into the pillows, closing your eyes and letting your mind go blank.

------

When you wake up in your human body, it always feels stuffy, not right, like you’re being squeezed into a tube. Your mouth is always cottony, too, and even though your body was simply laying down like you were asleep, your bones always ache when you get up as if you’ve been doing jumping jacks for however long you were in there.

You step out of the link bed, stretching your arms above your head and groaning. Tom is no longer in the linking center, but you didn’t expect him to be when there were others milling about who could watch over you.

You stand up and wobble a little bit, dizzy. Once it passes and you’re sure you can walk without smacking into anything, you make your way back toward your room, fully intent on sleeping for the rest of the afternoon before the conference in the evening.

Just as you leave the linking center, Margot runs into you, hair wild and eyes a little bit crazy. She grabs onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth lightly. You let her do whatever she wants, beyond caring.

“How did it go? Did he yell at you, did he flirt any? Ooh, did he smack your ass-? Hey!”

You shake her hands off, walking past her with a roll of your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Margot, you really need to get laid.”

She groans, following after you with quick steps, waving her arms around as she says, “I know! There’s just no one I’ve seen that I’m interested in, so I have to live through you and your sexy romance with Colonel Quaritch-”

You halt, turning around to grab her shoulders. You’re the one shaking her back and forth this time.

“Listen, Margot, there is nothing going on with Quaritch and me at all, nothing sexy, nothing flirty! We literally just met like two days ago, and he’s hated me ever since! Now stop saying stuff like that, or he’s going to overhear us, again, and kill us both. Okay? Okay.”

Margot whines, “Oh, but maybe there could be! If you were just a little less uptight and he was a little less homicidal, you guys could totally get together. I mean, you can’t deny that he might be interested, right? I totally saw the way he was looking at you yesterday!”

“Yeah, he was looking at me like he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat.”

“Kinky.”

“No, Margot, not kinky! More like murderous! You’re starting to sound crazy, Margot, you’ve gotta do something before you start humping anything that moves.”

Margot blushes, finally feeling some sort of shame, and she nods, “Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just so pent-up, honey. Ugh! Okay, I’m going to try to relax somewhere, get outta my head for a little bit. I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

You pat her shoulder and say, “See you then, Margot.”

She gives you one last smile before she’s off, bounding down the hallway. You shake your head in fond exasperation, now even more tired than before, and walk back to your room. You adored Margot, loved her, but sometimes her exuberance made your head pound.

You unlock your door, kick off your shoes, and toss yourself onto the unmade sheets of your bed. One last thought floats through your mind just before you drift off to sleep.  

Maybe mornings with Quaritch won’t be as bad as I thought.

peachy keen. Part Two

[midgardian-witch]

From the prompt list: “Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.” with Steven Grant please.

Since I already did this prompt with Jake I decided to approach this a little differently. And it turned out much longer than I had planned. I still hope you'll like it, anon 💙

Stupid Sexy Steven

tags: friends to lovers | kissing | cursing | Steven being effortlessly adorable and sexy | gn!reader

ships: Steven Grant/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You've been avoiding Steven. It's not the bravest thing to do and you're not exactly proud of it but you don't know what else to do. 

You need the space to figure out how to deal with your emotions. It's not an everyday thing you realize you're in love with your best friend. So avoiding it is. 

You know you'll have to say something at some point, you just didn't know how to say it. It's like your brain just shuts off when you look at him nowadays. He's just so genuinely kind and loving, and that goofy little grin he makes when he gets excited, and the way his brows furrow when he focuses on something-

Focus. Don't get distracted. 

So yeah, you get a little silly around him since you figured out that you have a crush on him. It happens. But also you don't want to make a total fool of yourself so some distance was in order. 

You just didn't account for Steven to just not let that happen. 

It's your day off when the inevitable happens. You were just getting ready to catch up on a TV show you had on your watchlist for a while when your doorbell rings. You get up, confused because you didn't expect any visitor or delivery, and walk over to your door. You open it to find the one man you didn’t plan on seeing. 

Steven smiles at you, standing there in your doorway like an excited puppy. 

"Hello! I hope I'm not disturbing you but we haven't seen eachother in a while and I wanted to check up on you."

Curse him and his puppy dog eyes. How could you turn him away like this? 

You clear your throat awkwardly and step aside to let him in. 

"Hi Steven. Yeah it's been a while. I didn't want to worry you."

He steps inside and you lead him into your living room. 

"You've been busy then, yeah?", he sits down in front of your TV and you join him, "I mean you didn't answer my calls or texts either so I thought maybe you weren't feeling well."

It's only now that you see the little container he's holding. Your heart squeezes in your chest. 

He got you soup because he thought you were sick. 

And all the while you had muted him in your contacts so you wouldn't be tempted. You were the worst human being on the planet. 

You take the offered soup, thanking him profusely. Quickly you carry it into your kitchen and return with some water for Steven. 

"You really didn't have to do this. See, I'm fine."

You smile at him as you place his water on the table. Steven returns your smile before his face turns thoughtful. 

Fuck, he looked so pretty even like this. His mouth twists into this little pout and you are once again wondering what it would feel like to press your lips against his, what sounds he would make as you lean in to kiss him, how he-

"-so it was either that or you were avoiding me."

You didn't even notice Steven was talking again. Curse Steven and his stupid, kissable mouth. 

"I- well…", you stammer. You couldn't lie to his face, you had to say the truth. "I was kind of avoiding you."

You regret it immediately. Steven looks at you like a kicked puppy. "Why?", he asks and just with that one word your heart breaks for him. 

It's too much, the guilt and the still lingering thoughts of Steven's lips on yours destroyed any brain-to-mouth filter you've ever had. 

“Because every time I see you, all I can think about is kissing you and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that.”

You slap your hand over your mouth, a desperate attempt to stop the words that have already left your lips. Steven stares at you, mouth agape and cheeks flushing. He starts stuttering and you can’t really make out what he's saying. 

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want to just dump this on you. I swear I had a plan and everything.", you groan, annoyed at yourself and hide your face behind your hands. 

Cautiously, softly, Steven asks: "Do you really want to kiss me?" 

He sounds like he doesn't believe it, that you couldn't possibly want that. And that could not stand. 

You take your hands off of your face and look directly into his eyes. 

"Steven Grant, I have been thinking about nothing else for the past weeks than how badly I want to kiss you. So believe me when I say that yes, I really really want to kiss you."

The noise that leaves Steven's mouth is the sweetest sound you've ever heard, something between a whine and a moan. You can't believe that he doesn't know what an effect he has on people. But you're happy to show him. 

"Would you- Do you want to- now?", he stumbles over his words, nerves overtaking him as he looks at you with such need in his eyes it almost leaves you breathless. 

Not a moment later you are on him, lips locked with his in a desperate first kiss. You swear you can see fireworks behind your eyelids as your lips connect. Steven whimpers into your mouth and his trembling hands hold onto you for support. In your rush you push Steven into the couch, all but laying on top of him as the two of you kiss to your heart's content. 

You force yourself to break apart from him with a gasp, forcing as much air into your lungs as possible. Steven looks up at you with dreamy eyes and a far away look, his face even more red than before. 

"Could we- Can you do that again?", he all but begs and with a laugh you nod. 

"Yes, Steven. As much as you want, whenever you want."

Immediately he pulls you back on top of him and seals your lips together again in another heedy kiss. 

[princessmaybank]

Im so so sorry. I requested but completely forgot to say who I wanted it with. Can you do prompts 6 and 14 from the Cherry Red prompt list??? Congrats on 5k you deserve it

😭😭

Sorry this took so long baby! You sent a few of these but we got it cleared up! I hope you like it!

No Touching

Pairings: JJ x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, kissing, mutual masterbation, etc.

Summary: JJ sees your bruises and doesn't want to hurt you, he comes up with a plan to get you both off.

Author's Note: Not my best work, but I hope you like it!

She came running in with tear stained cheeks, soaking wet, and bruises all over her exposed skin. Y/N hadn't even said anything yet and my blood was boiling. John B was at Sarah's, everyone else was at their respective homes, and I wouldn't be caught dead at my house at the moment.

She immediately ran into my open arms. I held her as we stood in the middle of the living room. Y/N cried into my chest and with each sob it shattered my heart a little bit more. I suddenly remembered that she had those bruises. Careful not to hurt her, I pull her away from me so I can stare into her eyes. "Who did this to you?" I asked through gritted teeth, ready to tear apart the asshole who dared to lay a fucking finger on her. She was shaking as she gave me a name, barely above a whisper, but I heard it. That name was all I needed before I was stomping my way to the screen door, ready to charge through the thunderstorm outside to beat Rafe Cameron's ass. I would've too if I wasn't yanked backwards by a small tug around my bicep. I turned to face Y/N, trying to calm my heavy breathing.

"Please stay here. Don't leave me." She cried. Her voice broke on every word. I couldn't leave her like this, broken and hurt, so I decided to stay for her. My arms enveloped her shivering body making sure not to squeeze her and cause more pain.

"I'm tired. So tired.." She choked out. I led her to the guest bedroom before pulling out some clothes for her to change into. After I handed them to her I turned to walk out of the room but I felt that same small tug on my bicep again.

"Can you help me Jay? It's hard to move in certain ways." She frowned. "Oh, of course.." I tried not to stutter. She walked over to me and started to try and lift her arms over her head. "Hey, hey, slow and easy okay? One step at a time." I smiled at her. She smiled back and slowly began to move. I grabbed the bottom of her shirt and slowly lifted, revealing more bruises on her torso.

I soothed her as I continued to remove her clothes. After she was left in her bra and panties I stepped back for a moment. I needed to grab the clothes from the bed but I couldn't help my eyes from running all over her body. The red and purple marks lacing her skin were enough to make my eyes water. Y/N is the most kind hearted and beautiful person I have ever known. Rafe Cameron never deserved her. He is already the biggest asshole on planet earth but to take Y/N, the sweetest woman in the entire fucking universe, for granted, now that's a new fucking low. Next time I see him I will fucking murder him. She deserves so much better.

Suddenly I was pulled out of my thoughts when I heard her light voice. "What did you say? Sorry.." I asked. "I said, are you just going to stare at me all day or are you going to do something about it Jay.." She smiled and waltzed over to me. She lightly placed her hands on my hips. Her bright E/C eyes were shining as she stared into mine. "I-I don't wanna hurt you Y/N.." I answered shyly. "I trust you with my life Jay.."

Before I knew it, we were on the couch, with each other's tongues down our throats. Her hips were jutting against mine. "Fuck are you sure about this Y/N?" I ask and pull away. "I've never been more sure, Jay." She smiled and stood up, her hand reached for mine and she led me to the bedroom. She closed the door and walked back over to me. "Hey uhm..can we take it slower?" I asked. I would usually jump at this opportunity but I couldn't help but think about how much pain she was in. I don't want to hurt her more.

She nodded in agreement before sitting next to me and started leaning in for a kiss. It took so much in me to keep my hands off of her, even though she wanted me to touch her. Our kiss led to me hovering over her, caressing her sides. She winced under my touch like it was too much. I pulled my hands away and continued to kiss her.

Fuck this was difficult! I couldn't touch her, but she wanted me to. "I-I can't I'm sorry Y/N." I pulled away and sat up. She hung her head low and whispered an apology. "No, no, don't be sorry Y/N. It's not your fault. And believe it or not, I really wanna touch you." I tried to comfort her from where I was sitting. "Really?" She asked through some tears. I nodded and gave her a smile. "Do you see what you do to me?" I chuckle and point to my hard-on which makes her giggle. "If it makes you feel better I'm extremely wet." She giggled and her cheeks tinted red. "I have an idea." I say before pulling my shorts down, my underwear follows shortly behind. I sat back down and started stroking myself. My head fell back as small whimpers released from me. I sat back and looked back to Y/N to see her with a shocked look on her face. "Oh fuck, close your mouth Y/N, not until you're ready to use it.." I whine and she surprisingly obeys. I stroked myself for a little bit longer while she watched me. "Your turn, princess." My pumps slowed down. "What?" She was embarrassed. Her eyes popped out of her head and her cheeks grew more red by the second. "Play with yourself princess." I said as I continued to stroke myself. I watched as her hand gently creeped between her legs. She started teasing herself through her shorts. "Fuck-" I whispered.

Y/N started to take her shorts off, leaving her panties on for a few moments. She teased herself by pulling her underwear harshly against her clit. My mouth was practically watering at this point. A small gasp came from her lips before she pulled her panties off. "C'mon princess, touch yourself for me." I whispered. Soon after, she brought her fingers down to her clit. I watched as her eyes closed and she shifted to get comfortable. Her tongue briefly came out to wet her lips as her fingers worked in small circles. I matched her pace with my stroking. Her eyes stayed closed but her mouth was wide, letting out pretty little noises. Her fingers circled faster. "Oh fuck Jay-" She moaned out and I nearly busted. I never thought I would hear her say my name this way. My hand went up and down faster as she continued to toy with herself. I still matched her pace making sure we would be ready around the same time. "C'mon princess, cum for me.." I panted. I sped up my motions and she did too. A few curses later from both of us and we both came at the same time. My name released from her mouth as I called her princess at the same time.

Her cum soaked the bedsheets under her as mine spilled into my hand. I smiled at her before walking to the bathroom to get a rag. I washed my hands so I could clean her up when I got back. I sat next to her on the bed again before gently wiping up her beautiful mess. "That was fun." She giggled. "Just wait until I can use my hands." I smiled and winked at her.

[aphroditesdoll]

potential [s.m]

18+

music: lurk by the neighborhood “better just go with the flow”

pairing: shane mccutcheon x hyper femme reader

warnings: slightly toxic, fingering, cunnilingus, reader crying before sex, rough kissing, lip biting.

summary: seeing shane out, and lying to you brings back some memories. some very 18+ ones!

a/n: definitely planning to make this into mutiple parts! i already love the inspo. (why can this woman never commit)

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆˚

“shane’s serious this time,” your long time friend alice gossiped, “plus that girl burnt down her place.” alice looked at you as she finishes her sentence anticipating your reaction. you didn’t know that story. shane told you it was an accident. “i didn’t know that, shane said a heater was left on, she lied.” you muttered to alice, not that anyone was your at table. maybe the disbelief that shane would lie to you, her roommate, her supposed best friend. alice looked away and back to you quickly, that one glance shared that means “shut the fuck up”, shane walked into the planet, leaving you slightly dumbfounded just hoping she wouldn’t come to your table.

“did you invite her out today?” you interrogate alice, “no but look, she’s meeting some girl.” alice burst out, “probably another hookup” you contemplate catching a glance but choose your own peace instead. “i’m gonna go get ready for our workout! see you there?” you ask, grabbing your leather bag, and fixing your skirt before standing up and making your way out. “yeah me and tash will be there!” she hollered back, as you leave the planet towards your apartment, it’s only about a ten minute walk.

you’re used to the busy city you’ve lived in for three years now, the walk is routine for you, but this is all so different, your mind floods with demands of ‘how long has she known her’, ‘have they already hooked up’, ‘what does she have over her’, to feeling mad, your fists clench at the thought of them doing everything you’ve heard her do before, and it stays with you every time you hear her fuck some random girl, your mind is focused on one thing the way shane uses women, why would she ever do that, why would she let them use her like that, eventually the thoughts slow down and you start to remember the way you truly feel about her behind any anger you have for her.

tears fill in your eyes making it hard to see, the tears bubble up and destroy any sense of vision you once had, it’s just not meant to be for you rings over and over in your mind.

two months ago

shane’s voice rings in the back of your head “why does it even matter to you?” she reminded, you knew she was right, even when you came out of your bedroom, angry, because “she can’t even respect you enough not to fuck these girls in your house”, to shane responded those words. why those fucking words. shane analyzed your face, seeing the tears starting to bubble up, your lips start to pout, her expression goes soft, she takes your face in her hands, caressing your cheek lightly with her thumb, you stare into her eyes seeing exactly why every girl does falls in love with her, how could you not? her green eyes scanning yours, looking for any kind of reassurance you know how sorry she is. “‘m so sorry, sorry- i’m so sorry sweetheart” she fumbles through her words her voice almost as shaky as yours now, “i know. i know you- you don’t mean to hurt me.” you mumble through yours too, and smash your lips into hers, it’s not a pretty kiss, it’s one you desperately need, pulling her in by her shirt.

she kisses you back, breathing heavily through each kiss you plaster on her lips, her hands float around your body before you notice and slide them down your back to your ass, shane quickly grabs a handful before she goes back to your hand, intertwining your fingers before she stops the kiss, “mmh” you mumble, opening your eyes to her puppy eyes, god she’s so beautiful when she’s lustful. “i don’t know if we should.” she states taking steps around you, leading you with her, still facing you, eyes locked with yours following every move you make, when you look at her lips she stares at yours, “please.” you plead before she nods and takes you down the white painted hallway.

you pull her in, begging to be kissed, to be touched. you kiss her gently this time, tenderly, sliding your tongue around hers, opening your eyes every few seconds because it’s so hard to believe. her hands finds their place on your ass again, gripping roughly, taking in all of you, one quick “can i?” before she slips her fingers in your shorts, rubbing her slim fingers against your clit, sliding them out to grab your jaw to forcing you to open wide, sliding her fingers in, and back down your shorts, her fingers going in circles as she slobbers pretty kisses all over your neck, boobs, and face, speeding up with each kiss she places, her pace rough.

she feels your walls clench, and can’t resist, she easily slids one finger in, watching your reaction before sliding another one in, soft pretty moans leave your lips, shane’s getting off on giving you pleasure, and she wants you to feel all of her potential. she’s secretly been waiting for this. before you can open your eyes from the shock of her fingers still in you, her pace going between gentle and rough, she wants to taste you more than anything.

she gets down on her knees hungrily pulling your cute pj shorts down, throwing them to the side, taking your thighs over her shoulders before she connects her mouth with your wet pussy, eating you out like her life depends on it, instantly sending you into orbit, moaning your way through her intense sucking and licking, moaning so loud you’ve never heard yourself like this before, “s-s-shane oh my god,” shane’s fingers still thrusting in you, you think you could collapse when you feel your insides clench, shane smirks against your mount chuckling before she speeds up, making it impossible not too start shaking all of it is so intense, you can feel it building up “don’t stop.” you whimper at her, she responds by sliding her tongue up and down your lips, hands gripping at your thigh as you let it all go, covering her chin, and nose in your cum, you shake as her gently drops your thighs, pulling herself to your lips, kissing you roughly, biting your bottom lip, “been keeping this from me the whole time?” she teased, her voice low and breathy.

“not just from you, from myself too,” “i didn’t know i could sound like that” you giggle leaning into her neck, she laughs back, “i guess i just bring those sounds out of you” she chuckles and laughs again before you playfully push her.

she leads you to the shower where she cleans you off, and you help her, staying in the rest of the night watching some of your favorite movies, having one of the most romantic nights with her.

the next day, she brought another girl home and made her moan the same way she made you.

you cried on that day and today. luckily, today brought a twisted idea to your head. the plan is to..

a/n: thank you for readin’ sexy 🤭 i love writing shane when i’m bored, and i have a whole plan with this part, and the next, so please let me know how you like this one!