#forgive the amount of tags i’m about to put on this

[solaredflare]

unresolved feelings about an uncle.

[impossible-rat-babies]

idk if my attitude has changed or what but I’m much more. forgiving of there not be in game reasons as to why xyz isn’t a certain way, or was stated to be one way and is now very different

[neteyamsilly]

i will soften every edge, hold the world to its best | 3

summary ;; Sullys stick together. You learn the hard way what happens when you don't. PART 2 | PART 4 pairings ;; dad!jake sully x reader, mom!neytiri x reader, sully family x reader genre ;; pure angst and family feels notes / explanations ;; descriptions of blood and violence incoming, beware! shout out to the ppl who predicted the stuff in this chapter LMAO so um... i couldnt tag everybody who asked when i said i would... there's apparently a limit to how many people you can tag. please forgive me 😭 im not taking any tagging requests anymore since i cant do it. so sorry about that,,,, seriously also, thank you so much for 1160 followers! i still cant fucking believe it... daddy issues solidarity 🤙🏻🤙🏻

“Hi there Corporal, you hear me? Yeah, I know you do. As much as I’m charmed by the fatherly love I could give you a big old sloppy wet kiss, we have unfinished business.”

Rain covered the rustling of clothes and the click-clacks of readjusted weapons as concentrated silence hung in the air, thick and heavy like the morning mist swallowing up the forest.

No answer. 

What face could your parents be making right now? Heartbeat in your ears, you tried to hide your shame by looking down, but a jerk on your queue set you straight. the avatar holding you digging his gun sharper in your neck.    

“What, cat got your tongue all of a sudden?” The leader’s stare found yours. “Let me give you a quick remedy.” 

They’d linked your device into another for the sound to be relayed outside and the voice detection range could be wider, in other words, they wanted your father to hear what was happening to you. Your braid was yanked as if the one pulling it wanted to snap it right off your skull, no amount of training could stop the scream torn out of you — all the show just for him. 

The line was deadly still, save for some rustling, crackling static that you could have easily mistaken for hissing.

A ghost of a smile shadowed the man’s face, he extended his rifle to tip your chin up. “Guess we’re gonna have to be louder than that to wake daddy up sweetheart.” 

“Stop!” Father yelled, the unexpected timing of it made you jump. That earned him a group chuckle from the avatars around you. “Stop.”

He talked. He didn’t leave you to fend for yourself in this. Thank Eywa!

“That was fast,” the captor behind you said. 

“Thought you’d have forgotten English by now, playing native.”

“...Quaritch?” 

Quaritch. That awful, awful man from the stories your mother killed? Spider’s father? But… But he was dead. How could sky people know how to cheat death?

“In the flesh.” 

Father’s voice wavered, you’d think he was scared if you didn’t know any better. “That’s impossible.”

“Back from the grave just for you, Jake.”

“Then I’ll just have to put you right back where you belong.”

The squad of avatars openly laughed at that, boisterous, confident, arrogant. 

This was Toruk Makto they were openly mocking. None of them would last for one minute in front of him and yet—

“Quite the teary lovers reunion we’re havin’ here, but you got busy while I was gone, huh?” He looked down at you again, yellow eyes filled with mirth. “I have this tiny bird here we plucked right out of the air. Imagine my surprise to learn she’s yours. Is this the only one, or you got yourself a litter now?”

Silence again. 

“What do you want?”

“Straight to the point as always.” The smug smile momentarily twitched into an unamused, withheld resentment. This man was nearing the end of his capacity to keep taunting. “I don’t think I’ll tell yet. You know I love to be a tease.”

Your ears rotated upwards in treacherous hope at your father's next words. “If you touch one hair on my daughter’s head I swear to god—”

“You exchanged your god for this shithole, Jake. Let’s not kid ourselves now.” Any hint of playing around was gone, now, eyes fixated on something on the ground ahead. “Your daughter will be my guest for a while. Think of it as summer vacation. Don’t worry, unlike the Na’vi, we’re very hospitable.” His thumb brushed over a button. “Until next time.”

“Fucking bastard—”

With one beep, the call was over. Quaritch was touching the band around his neck this time. “Iron Sky, Blue on Actual. We are standing by for extract, over.” 

You began to tussle against the avatar behind your back. “No! No! Let me go!” 

“Be advised. We're bringing in a high value prisoner.”

“Dad’s really gonna flay her alive this time, I can’t wait.” Lo’ak, positioned just behind the flap of the tent to not be seen from the outside as he peeked with one eyeball just in case, was watching his parents vehemently yell at each other in whispers that started out loud, but got hushed probably to not reach him and his siblings. Aggressive limb gestures were flying in the air, and at one point, his mom had tried to run off somewhere and was forcefully stopped. 

Dad was currently pacing around like a wild animal with one hand permanently stuck rubbing his face, and mom turned away from him, holding her forehead. “They’re really going at it, huh?

Kiri was not amused with his insistence to breach their privacy. “What’s so interesting about watching this kind of thing?”

“Catharsis?” He remarked in English, feeling sophisticated. “You remember Spider talking about it? Purification and emotional cleansing through relief that you’re not going through the horrible tragedy, the character on stage is.” 

“You’re normally so dumb.” Lo’ak bore his fangs at her matter-of-fact tone of voice. “Your brain only comes back on when it’s about chaos.”

“I’m petty, and what about it?” A tilt of his head to dare Kiri to ask for her point, then his attention was thwarted by an incomprehensible cry from his mother. She was pushing dad from his arms, furious like Lo’ak had never seen before as the upset man tried to hold her more. “Look at mom and dad breathing fire at each other! You think they’re discussing how to punish her?”

“Stop spying already skxawng, mom will be angry if she sees you. We’re supposed to be in bed.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to listen here!” His ears were tilting at every angle to make out any words that reached to him as nothing but a cluster of broken sounds. “Why did they have to go far?” 

“Because they wanted to be away from peeping toms like you?”

“And you’re still here too, so?” Lo’ak gave his sister a meaningful look. “I know you wanna see too.”

“Ugh!” Kiri shoved out her tongue at him, eyes dead. “And it’s not funny, by the way! They are fighting. Stop being happy about it.”

He knew they were fighting about his older sister, and that she’d get all the heat and fallout from it the moment she was back. Lo’ak’s head was full of what he could get out of it, or what to ask her for in return for helping her out in her detention. So satisfying to be the sibling who wasn’t in trouble. He should do it more, actually. “It is funny when it’s not about me.” 

“You’re sick for taking joy in another’s suffering.”

“Oh, I’m doomed, then.” Kiri took whatever fat was on his thin arm between her thumb and forefinger, and twisted. Lo’ak had to blink away the tears that rushed to his eyes, snatching his limb away from the displeased girl and pushing her away in return — he was annoyed at how much that hurt, why was that so damaging for no reason? “Yeouch! What the hell?”

“Will it kill you to practice mindfulness once in a while?” 

He raised his voice’s pitch to mock the wobbly, ear-scratching whine of yours, and exaggerated his body movements to match, too. “I hate you!”  

“Gross.” She tried to shove him, he caught her hands in the air, pushing her back and getting the spiteful annoyance of his sister as a result. “Dad was actually hurt by that.” Lo’ak’s eyes could roll down the hills by themselves the way that sounded, but Kiri, as always, was bothered so inexplicably. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling.”

That bad feeling was the herald of dad’s upcoming cranky ill-temper and what would follow after you inevitably had to come crawling back home with tail between your legs, Neteyam dragging you from the scruff of your neck. Lo’ak was refusing to sleep so he could enjoy the fight. 

“Me personally, am over the moon, ikran duty is so gonna be off my hands. For months.” He halted at the idea that just went off in his head, tail swishing with the hype. “I wanna tell Spider. I’ll go get him.”

“Absolutely not. You sneak off now and they’ll laser-focus all the anger on you!” Kiri was pointing a warning hand at him, but slowly lowered it, one corner of her mouth twitching up. She was holding back amusement. “Hey, you know what? Nevermind, you can go. I want you to go. I have to see this.”

“Ha-ha.” Lo’ak’s tail stuttered, losing enthusiasm. “Attempted murder, much?”

“Guys, what’s going on…”

Upon the unexpected voice that wobbled its way into their conversation, they both looked down to see Tuk gripping her weaved blanket with one hand and dragging it on the floor as she made her way to them, the other rubbing her eyes one by one so sleep dripping from them would fly away.

“See, you woke her up! What do we do now?”

“You woke her up by yelling, why is it my fault now?”

“I didn’t, you—”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did n—”

“Guys…” Tuk pulled on Kiri’s hand, and the foreign object she was clutching the whole time distracted Lo’ak. It must have dug into the older one’s skin that she carefully picked it up to inspect. The ear pieces they took off before they went to sleep. This one was Kiri’s.  “Neteyam’s calling. You didn’t hear…”

Grinning, Lo’ak snatched it up and skipped backwards and put it in his own ear, ignoring Kiri’s hushed yells to give it back now and the groans about ruining it with his stinky, cheesy earwax. He had to keep bouncing around, the girl was chasing him around the tent. “Bro! Tell her she’s sooo dead. Dad’s literally keeping guard in front of the tent—”

“Lo’ak, quit it.” Neteyam’s tremulous answer was harsh. Lo’ak’s smile wavered as he dodged Kiri’s arm and jumped over discarded cups on the floor, knocking over wooden spoons. “I need you to tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Aw, baby’s so scared to come back she needs to make a game plan first?” He laughed, slapping Kiri’s hands away. “I’ll only tell if she gives back my karambit knife.”

His older brother sighed, a bit too exasperated. 

“Yeah, I’m not letting that one go and I’m also making it your problem—”

“Lo’ak, she isn’t here.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”

“She isn’t here. I couldn’t find her.” Kiri bumped into him, unable to stop herself at the right time to hit the brakes due to how abruptly Lo’ak had stilled. They’d almost tumbled over. “Dad told me to wait until he contacts her and I’ve been waiting for minutes. Now tell me what’s going on over there.”

“Bro, you’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious, skxawng!” 

He turned to Kiri in disgusted discomfort, who had damn-near glued her own ear to his to hear better. “Forget months, I’ll be free for years. Dad’s not gonna let her take one step off the camp anymore.”

The girl would stomp her foot if she was a couple years younger. “What’s this about?”

And Neteyam would shake Lo’ak from the neck for ignoring him this long while he was fussing. “Tell me already you—!”

“They’re having a fight bro.” He leaned better to peep outside the tent. “Yeah.”

“She came back? Why didn’t you tell me?”

It was uncommon for Neteyam to completely disregard the previous input he’d been given. Lo’ak didn’t understand this level of anxiety. “Are you having a brain fart? Would we be having this conversation if she was here? It’s mom and dad who are fighting.”

It wasn’t that serious — on the contrary, his sister was quite simple to understand. She didn’t want to be found and had changed her place of hiding. End of story. The golden boy’s worrywart nature was keeping him from reasoning. 

“Don’t be a smartass.” Lo’ak practically felt Neteyam’s want to land a loud smack on his back. “Were they only able to reach her, then? Is that why they’re fighting?”

“You’re asking me?—”

The older boy began to grumble under his breath. “This is why I called Kiri.”

Said girl’s ears perked up over picking her name from the static-surrounded line. Lo’ak snorted. “Ouch, bro.”

Kiri shook him from the elbow. “Me? What about me?”

“Great title for your autobiography.”

Kiri raised her arms to give him a beating and Lo’ak was already bolting away from anywhere near her vicinity. The siblings didn’t even take notice of the line with Neteyam going dark as they focused on their own play-scuffle for a while. 

Until Lo’ak bumped into someone.

It wasn’t Tuk. 

Shoulders pulled into himself, he turned around torturously freaked out to find dad standing there like a ghost, his tactical vest packed to the brim and gun hanging from his back the way they wore their bows. 

The blue of his skin had faded into an ashier tone, amber eyes wide and bloodshot, the veins on the normally put together Olo’eyktan’s forehead were bulging, even a socially clueless person would pick up something was seriously wrong. He commanded cold authority of the battlefield simply by the way he stood, immediately triggering Lo’ak into soldier mode.  

He took a few steps back, chin hanging low at the lightless, unblinking stare his father pushed down on him. “Sir.”

All the sleepiness that had Tuk unresponsive and nodding off through Lo’ak and Kiri’s push-and-pull was knocked out of her at the sight, she was now unnerved and frightened. “Dad?”

The man’s intensity was somehow eased by his youngest’s reaction, but he held back from taking her in his arms like he normally would to comfort her, didn’t even care to remark on how they were supposed to be sleeping — how they’d woken their little sister up, instead focusing on Lo’ak. “I want you all to listen well. Your mother and I are heading out for a minute and your grandmother will be with you soon — Neteyam is Oscar-Mike to come back here. Stay put and don’t go anywhere, understand?” His finger pointed accusingly at him. “Don’t cause trouble. Looking at you boy, what I’m saying here is Marine proof. I’m at the end of my wits here, don’t even think about slipping a tail out of this tent.” 

The potent severity of whatever the hell was making him this agitated to the point of a voice so hoarse it was unrecognizable got the wheels in Lo’ak’s head whirring. “What’s happening, dad?”

“One child!” The thundering shout came down on him with the force of a falling mountain, making Lo’ak jump out of his skin. “I need one child of mine to listen to me without asking any questions today!” Dad’s voice broke when Tuk whined, he shut his eyes as if he was in physical pain, and flexed his jaw, shaking his head and pulling the girl in from her shoulders to soothe her. Still no direct hugging. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Lo’ak said immediately, distraught by the over-the-top reaction, hands unknowingly curling into fists by his sides. Whenever that sky people word ‘Jesus’ slipped from dad not having any control between the border of his two languages, the boy knew it was demanding gravitas. “I heard you CFB.”

“Good.” He thinned his lips. “Kiri, please.”

Lo’ak frowned at dad basically asking for her to play her brother’s keeper in Neteyam’s absence in two simple words.

She nodded. “I know dad.”

He caught a glimpse of his mother running in the distance, her father’s bow in her hand. 

Just what was happening? What had you done? 

Eywa, it had to be sky people. 

Dad saw the realization in his face. “Stay,” he emphasized, one final time before he was also gone with the wind. 

Lo’ak wouldn’t have obeyed if it wasn’t for his grandmother arriving just in time, keeping them busy with a story about the arrival of a wounded ikran with no rider.

You realized the gunshot wound puncturing your upper abdomen was there the whole time when the avatars put first aid and later slapped a rectangular sky people bandage on it that helped clotting or whatever it was called, the pain simply not being there had played a big factor in it with the body running on pure adrenaline. 

(Crouching close to you, Quaritch had bragged, “We aren’t so bad after all, huh, sweetheart? It’s called civilization. Your daddy ever taught you about that?”

Civilization, your ass. They needed you. There was nothing well-meaning about what they were doing.

And the nickname had ticked you off, sullying the good memories of father, your head slammed into his nose in full power after a hiss.

“Now my daddy taught me that!” you spat in English as other avatars had tackled you. The man claiming to be Quaritch was smiling as he wiped away the blood trickling down his nose.

What was the point in trying to patch you up if they were going to do this, then?)

You were now a part of an elaborate trap to lure your father in. Bait. The worst position to be in. This was the kind of trouble Lo’ak would get himself in. It was too late to go back now, the mess you’d gotten yourself into had made itself known. 

Think, think! How could you get out of this?

Within the unsleeping forest’s nightly noises chirping all around you, a specific call in the air halted your train of thought. 

It was mom. 

Your parents were here. But how? How did they know where you were, exactly? Dread and expectation pooled in your heart, coexisting in a nauseating mix. 

Father must be thinking that you already caused so much trouble, they couldn’t know you were also hurt, you’d never hear the end of it.

But there was no time to think, the pain you should have been feeling was ebbing its way into your body, and she was calling in the night to inform you to get ready.

All hell broke loose when the man who held you tight from your queue was shot right from the back of his head with an arrow, collapsing right on top of you. 

You couldn’t get away in time to not be crushed by his dead body and promptly got squished between the mossy soil and him, his gun was hurting you, the wound on your stomach getting in the way of you using your core to push the body off. 

How many minutes had passed with you struggling to get him off as a hurricane of bullets roared, you didn’t know (it hurt, pain was climbing towards the threshold) — mom was able to break free from the weight of a whole AMP suit, as you’d heard as a child, a Na’vi was naturally strong, but you couldn’t even crawl out. Panic was a rope tightening around your ribcage as your breathing picked up

All of a sudden, the weight was gone, and the only remaining thing from it was the big gun left from the avatar you found yourself hugging for dear life, eyes wide as saucers. Before you could see whoever had done that, you got hoisted up right back on your feet and tried to run, only to be held tighter and pulled behind the trunk of a tree.

“Hey, it’s me, it’s me!” Clumsy, overwrought hands were cupping your cheeks and — and oh, it was your father. 

You didn’t know whether to be afraid or cry from happiness.

Once he was sure you registered it was him by staring intently in your eyes with that edge of the softness you’d missed so much, his hold shifted to your neck and around your shoulders, and he gave you a look-over, checking for any wounds. Too bad what he was searching for was behind the gun you were holding. “Are you hurt?” He shook you when you were too stunned to answer. “Are you hurt at all?”

“No,” you shook your head automatically, it was weak against the explosions of bullets raining down all around you, but father had picked it up regardless, only focusing on you for the moment.

In the darkness, nobody could see the blood running down your body, that bandage had come out at one point. 

“On my mark, we’re gonna run, okay?” He nodded to you, tomahawk axe in hand coated in a dark substance, commanding your full attention. “Follow me. Ready? Ready?”

You weren’t ready at all, stomach feeling like it was being stabbed at every heartbeat, but you couldn’t tell him that. 

Instead, you ran like hell, moored by father’s taut clutch on your forearm pulling you forward to match his incredible speed dodging roots, bushes and branches. 

Things stopped moving only when you were enveloped in mom’s embrace, consciousness almost flying off from the relief that washed over you. Kisses were peppered along your hairline and forehead, her mumbling your name in gratitude blending with your panting. Tears burned bitter in your eyes, but you couldn’t cry, not when father was looking at you like that, chest rising and falling. You instantaneously remembered why you were holding that gun at the intensity he was radiating, tail escaping between your legs and letting mom hold you. 

At least this way he wasn’t able to objurgate you.  

Over her shoulder, you saw three ikrans instead of two. Heart soaring, you were skipping towards him in pure astonishment in a heartbeat. “Hey buddy!”  

His head lowered down towards you in bird-like movements. In this angle, it looked like he was giving you a razor sharp-toothed big grin. 

“He brought us here,” your mother said. The hand you were going to pet the ikran with stopped midway at her dejected tone. “You have passed Iknimaya, I take it. On your own.”

You didn’t know what to say, feeling immense guilt at having made her this disappointed over it. If this was any normal situation, any normal fight at all, you would have shot back with, ‘Well father told me to do it.’

But you were tired. 

Your pain threshold was being threatened, and you needed to get to your grandmother before any of your parents saw the situation you were in and this escalated into the worst fight you were going to get into in your entire life. 

Father’s only response was a dead cold, “C’mon, we gotta get outta here.”

He didn’t talk to you after that. Not one word. 

Squatting on an ikran’s back on a flight with an abdominal gunshot wound you were trying to hide was not an option unless you wanted to pass out midair and was looking for a free dive, so you were all but hugging the poor thing’s neck like a monkey, trusting him to follow your parents while you concentrated on mentally fighting to level out the pain. 

Nonsensical as it was to believe the gun stuck between your ikran’s neck and your stomach was acting as a tampon to lessen the bleeding, you were concerned with how dumb it must have looked to father and mom, how incompetent they must think of you that their daughter didn’t even know how to ride right. 

Got an ikran for nothing. 

Would they be less proud of you seeing how funny it appeared, nevermind that it was to contain your pain all the while not trying to faint?

But no words were exchanged about it. 

Father clamping up right after he’d made sure you weren’t hurt (yikes) had resulted in this awkward trip succumbing in total silence. They had sandwiched you between them, only necessary space for the ikrans to beat their wings freely left, so close that you could discern the scariest look on father yet, deepening the lines of age in his face while simultaneously expressing his barely contained desire to kill someone. 

A ticking time bomb. 

Forget speaking at all, but not only did he never address you until now, he didn’t even look in your direction for once. You knew because staring at him for five minutes straight for him to just acknowledge your existence had proven to be unfruitful. 

And the tears involuntarily streamed down your cheeks with how utterly worthless and alone that made you feel, trapped in this agony you couldn’t help but hide because he’d think you didn’t deserve to complain after bringing it upon yourself. You would rather bite your tongue and bear the pain than stay dreading his reaction. 

Yeah, no, he couldn’t know. 

Mom was looking over at you every one minute to make sure you were okay after her ears picked up on your sniffles, arrows of worry shot from her side sinking down your skin every single time, and you hated to make her this way. 

Your ikran kept comforting you through tsaheylu until you landed.

Father had promptly jumped down, agile and making haste away somewhere, passing you by and giving the cold shoulder. You all but slid off your own ikran, managing to make the gun stay where it should be, as you couldn’t help but weakly call out to him for one drop of consolation. “Father…”

He didn’t stop for you, quickening his steps, but his ears twitched, the tail beating the air ferociously halting and lowering before it returned to the previous motions, and those were the only indications that he’d heard it Lima Charlie.

The man just didn’t want to talk to you.    

And you had to make yourself believe it wasn’t the emotional devastation that had you falling down, but the wound sucking out all your energy now that you had gotten to safety. 

“Ma’ite?” Mom rushed to you. “Ma’ite, what’s wrong? What is it?”

“I’m okay, mom, it’s okay.” You were sitting on the floor, cross-legged. Thank goodness you still had the unbreakable willpower (and not the fear of Eywa put into you by father) to hold your shit together. “I’m okay. Just tired. My knees buckled. Weak, you know?” You swallowed, smiling. “I’m just… Just resting.”

Her gaze full of concern studied you, zeroing in on the gun you clung on for dear life against your stomach. Her hands lovingly brushed your hair, gripped your shoulders and elbows even though you were disgustingly clammy all over. It was grounding, anchoring within the ocean of pain washing over you in waves. 

“Oh, why are you sweating so much? You’re freezing.” You clutched the gun harder in a panic when she grasped it, most likely to put it away. It was the wrong reaction to have, but you weren’t exactly in the position to function healthily. 

Mom, as any other person would, got suspicious from it, her eyes flying up to your owlish ones — blanked out like a frightened animal. “You’re fine now,” she whispered, thankfully attributing it to how disturbed you must be, still not out of survival mode. “You are safe, my daughter. Mom is here.” She cupped your cheek, but every touch to your body hurt now, even when it was away from the gaping wound, still gushing blood, trickling down your hips and getting you scared that it’d be discovered once you stood up. “I’m here.” She searched your soul to know just why you were grimacing at her attempts of comforting. “I will take this now, you do not need it anymore.”

You snapped out of the gradually darkening gray haze mom’s lulling was laying you down gingerly into. “No, please don’t,” your breathing hitched. She was going to see. She couldn’t see. You had to avoid this somehow, as long as you could. Grandmother’s tent. You would make it, you had to.  “I’ll… I’ll just sit here for a while, okay? I need to just… take a small break, and then I’ll… Can you go back? I’ll follow later. Father is angry, I don’t—”

“Nonsense.” Incredulous and enraged suddenly about something you couldn’t put a finger on, and before you could stop her, she tried to haul you up with her by gripping your upper arms — colors exploded behind your eyelids, getting you you to lose consciousness for two seconds, your vision flooding back in a starry kaleidoscope. When mom’s voice reached your ears, it was in staccato exclaims your ears were ringing too much to discern. She was shaking you. 

You weren’t able to sit up straight anymore, leaning forward — mom had caught you, utterly confused and panicked at the same time. And then your head was lying on the crook of her elbow resting on her legs she’d tucked under herself. The moment you’d switched from sitting to straight up lying down was missing from your memories. 

A baby being cradled. Yes, this is exactly what it was like. Gentle arms surrounded you amidst the pulsating sea of agony. 

Your body was letting go, but your arms were vices around the gun, still holding that last line. Don’t let go. Don’t let go. They can’t know. Father will be so mad if he learns. “‘m okay… ‘st restin’…”

When your eyes cleared enough for the surroundings to be only a bit blurry, your mom was looking at the hand she’d just tried to take away the gun with, caked with your blood that had stained it, out of it and perplexed like she didn’t want to believe it. 

Her gut-wrenchingly stunned numbness sent the misery clawing its way inside into overdrive, pulling your consciousness down to the earth from the clouds it was ascending to. “Not mine,” you forced out, but it came out as begging. Everything was falling apart. The plan was so simple, why couldn’t you do anything right? “Not mine. Please. Mom, it’s okay.” 

“No…” Mumbling, she started sharply swaying back and forth, and with one brutally vigorous attack, she ripped the gun away from your arms, and hurled it away — then it was over. Your sob wasn’t due to the motion hurting you, it was all entirely for the broken wail of your mother at seeing the bloodied mess, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached down to press down at the pouring liquid. “No! No! Oh Great Mother! Why did you hide this! Oh, my daughter!” 

“No, mom, I’m fine, it’s nothing. Not my blood. Not my blood, okay?” You reached up weakly and wiped at her cheeks with trembling fingers, your heart got crushed worse than the pain could beat you down at her grief — lungs constricting. Where was all the air?  “I’ll get up. I’ll go to grandmother, don’t cry. Just resting.”

Frantically looking around, she yelled, “Jake!—” but her voice didn’t quite come out, breathy as if she’d been punched in the ribcage seconds prior.

A heartbeat’s worth of nothingness, after which you were full-on freaking out. Only one thought: Father will be angry. 

“No!” You shrieked, and blood swelled in one strong pump against mom’s fingers. She looked down at you in anguish, pupils blown wide, arm tightening around you as if you were a flailing bird. “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell father! He’ll really kill me for this—”

“No, no no no,” she shook her head, frenzied, tone cracked from beginning to end. “Do not say that. Don’t you ever say that—”

But you were struggling in her arms, wanting nothing but to crawl away into a hole, no reason registering whatsoever, only instinct. “He’ll be so angry,” you begged, pleading, pink spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth. The sound of gurgling accompanying the words you forced your whole body to form. “You can’t tell him — you can’t! He already hates me!”

The more you thrashed around and kicked your legs, the more you bled.

“Please, Great Mother!” The more mom lost her mind, hissing and howling hysterically, crazed, hugging you tighter and rocking. “Jake! Jake! Ma’Jake!” She put her temple against yours. “Not my daughter, please, Eywa…”

Why was she being like this? It wasn’t that serious! You were okay!

Delirium claimed you hot as she kept calling his name and her unbreakable hold on you kept you in a cage of a mother’s despair. In your feverish mind, a threat to your life was coming. Weakness spread like wildfire around your body and chipped away at the pain, slowly picking it apart to replace it with drowsiness. “Don’t call ‘im,” you continued to repeat, over and over again. “I’m just taking a break. Don’t call him over. He’s gonna be angry. He’ll hate me. He hates me. Please, mom.”

The sentences slurred together, shortened, wilted away pitifully, your voice died down, tongue deteriorating into only echoing, “He hates me.” A withered away, old flute. 

Your ikran was bellowing in the distance and you looked. The torches on cave walls were illuminating him and finally revealing to you his beautiful color scheme.    

And then your father was here, falling to his knees right beside you, his glistening wide eyes flying everywhere around your body — tracing all the blood, hands hovering above you as if he didn’t know where to start piecing a shattered vase back together.   

It was over.

Fully expecting the chastising you were about to receive to shake the floating mountains so bad the enemy would be able to spot you, you began to apologize — pride be damned, this battle be lost, you’d failed anyway. “Please don’t be mad,” you shuddered, meek and unsteady, tunnel vision flickering at the edges only perceiving him. “It’s my fault—I’m sorry—please don’t be angry—”

“Stop talking,” he ordered, rough and harsh, eyebrows knitted tightly, and out of breath — probably because of how hard he was trying to hold the anger back. You knew. That had to be it. “Don’t speak.”

Ah of course. This was only natural when he had refused to utter a single word at you the whole way, denying you the temporary comfort of a simple glance. 

Even the hand he pressed down so ruthlessly firm on your stomach it might as well be a boulder pinning you down was meant to be punishment, the whines your unbreathing lungs couldn’t stop turned into yowls — you hadn’t even noticed your hands were wrapped around father’s wrist in an effort to push him away, scratching him, but he only added his other hand on top of the other in return.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I got you, please hang on a little longer,” he pleaded, but you were already too far gone, Eywa was cruel to have plugged your ears to the endearment you’d been dying to hear from him for so long, making the last things you were aware father said to you the fact that he didn’t even want to hear you talking. 

And you fulfilled his wish. 

taglist: @ihonestlydontknowwhattonamethis@alohastitch0626 @jackiehollanderr @lucciera @qvrcll @iloveavatar @velvtcherie @ssc7514 @goldenmoonbeam @neteyamforlife @itsluludoll @jakesullys-bitch @blubrryy @sully-stick-together @arminsgfloll @alice121804 @noname2246 @justthingzsblog @eywamygoddess @m-1234 @ellabellabus07 @hellok1ttycake @dakotali @bluefire12348 @abbersreads @yellooaaa @aimsro @octavias-next-meat-bite @nikqdn @nao-cchi @spicycloudsalad @yeosxxx @heybiatchz @winxschester @elegantkidfansoul @eichenhouseproperty @kakimakiloh @dueiosy @liyahsocorro @dimplesxx @tigresslily @n8ivatar @strnqer @lillybbyy @jakesullyssluttt @r3dc4ndy @myheartfollower @gcldtom @bunnyrose01 @aceofheartzzz @ghoulbli @slasherfcker505 @ducks118 @megsthings @graykageyama @gwolf92

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Waffles for breakfast

Pairing/AU: Joel Miller x afab!reader, no outbreak so flour is safe in this one lol

Words counts: 1141

Rating: +16? (just a little tiny smut 👀)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, reader is described having breasts and vagina, no other description is given, established relationship, a huge amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v (do better irl!), joel cooks (i feel like this needs its own tag 😂)

A/N: another thing I wrote a year ago, revised and corrected. I hope there are no mistakes but if there are please, forgive me.

Enjoy the Sunday fluff my lovely friends, hope you’ll like it and you’ll have a really nice day♥️

Tagging: @baronessvonglitter , @aurorawritestoescape, @milla-frenchy and @bean-is-reading just to say thanks for your encouragement, kindness and support, you all are great and deserve the world 😭♥️

Thanks to anyone who reads this!

“Joel”

“What”

“Leave it alone, there's no need for you to do it”

“I’m doing great!”

“Okay”

You are observing a batter that is too liquid and full of lumps.

Joel got into his head to prepare breakfast this morning, perhaps because last night you ironically commented on his total inability to cook something vaguely edible.

“Let me finish, you'll see you'll like them”

He got into his head to make you waffles.

Him.

The one who burns everything he tries to cook, the one who holds a neat pile of takeaway flyers near the phone.

His idea of fine cuisine is fried chicken wings or pepperoni pizza with olives.  

You tried to make him forget that he promised you, you tried very hard.

This morning you woke up first, slipped over to his side of the bed and hugged him, clinging to his back and encircling his waist with one arm.

You intertwined your legs with his to get as close as possible and slid your hand under his shirt caressing his tummy, leaving little kisses on his wide back through the shirt. 

Your hand made its way into his boxers to reach his sex and you gently stroked it until you felt it get hard.

He made a grunt as he woke up and put his big hand on yours, continuing to massage. 

You surrounded the base with your fingers, slowly going up to the tip, stroking his cock.

Slowly.

He made a deep, hoarse moan. 

He turned to look at you and held you close, lowered a hand on your sex and massaged you in turn.

You took back his shaft in your hand and you both continued like this, caressing each other, looking at each other smiling, until everything became too hot and blurry.

You undressed in an instant, throwing everything on the floor.

You rode him the way he likes it, your hands resting on his broad chest while he held you firmly by your hips. He always says he loves seeing you like this and he loves your tits bounce before his eyes.

You lay on him exhausted, totally satisfied, he hugged you tightly.

“God baby, you're amazing”

He kept you like this for what seemed like an endless time and anyway you wish it never ended.

He kissed your forehead and nose and whispered “well, good morning I guess”.

You giggled then kissed that little patch in his beard that you adore “Good morning, Joel”.

You thought he'd forget by then and never get up.

Joel, however, is a man who keeps his promises.

He is a stubborn man, above all, when he gets something in his head, nothing stops him. Whether it's small or big doesn't matter.

And he would do anything when he cares about a person.

He got up and you saw him disappear in the bathroom.

 You wanted to follow to continue distracting him but you knew that it would be useless anyway so you decided to enjoy the warmth of the bed for a while longer, wrapped in his scent on the sheets and pillow.

You heard the shower water flowing and after a few minutes he came out with a towel around his waist, a few drops of water still on his skin, chest, shoulders, wet hair pulled back.

A breathtaking view.

You would have liked to drag him back to bed but he headed to the closet, pulled out a clean t-shirt, boxer briefs and a pair of sweatpants.

He got dressed and said, “stay in bed, babe, I'll make you breakfast” with a smile so sweet and enthusiastic that it melted your heart.

 You didn't have the courage to say no to him, and now you're here, watching him energetically turn a spoon into the bowl and try to remove the lumps from a too liquid blob. You wonder how he was able to make it liquid but at the same time lumpy.

You smile, looking at how he's trying.

“Joel, please. There are frozen pancakes in the freezer.”

“Absolutely not, it's Sunday, I won't let you eat frozen stuff”

And you laugh thinking that he would like to give you that thing that he is furiously stirring instead.

It looks like glue.

You stop protesting, because you see how tenderly he looks at you, you see how convinced he is as he pulls out the waffle iron and lets it warm up.

In the meantime, the batter has thickened a bit but it remains full of lumps.

You offer to set the table, but he doesn't want you to do that either.

“Today you have to relax, I'll take care of you”

You stay on your stool, with your elbows leaning against the island counter looking at him and remaining silent, enjoying the sight of his arms delightfully embraced by his t-shirt.

He puts two placemats on the counter, two plates, cutlery and glasses. 

He takes the orange juice out of the fridge.

Pour a little batter on the iron, close and wait with a satisfied smile.

What he puts on your plate it’s the ugliest waffle you've ever seen but you don't have the heart to tell him.

Not when he seems so proud and convinced of his work.

After all, what does it cost you to taste?

You hope you won't need to call 911.

You chew slowly, tasting a strange flavor, but you don't say anything.

He looks at you in expectation.

“So, how is it?”

“Good” you try to say, but you don't know how to swallow the bite.

It's weird, gummy, incredibly salty.

You keep chewing while he takes a bite too.

He chews for a few seconds and then roll his eyes and bend over the sink spitting.

“My God it’s horrible! Don't eat it!”

At his surrender, you can no longer resist and you also spit in the sink and then turn on the garbage disposal hoping that that horrible thing will disappear forever.

 You laugh, you laugh so much that tears come to your eyes while he looks so sorry.

“I think I put salt instead of sugar in it” he murmurs.

You keep laughing, as you approach to hug him “how much did you put in, a whole jar?”

“Fuck” he rolls his eyes, looking frustrated.

“Babe, it doesn't matter, really”

You squeeze him as much as you can, he put his chin on your shoulder “I’m sorry, I wanted to do something nice”

“Don't worry, you tried” you stroke the back of his neck trying to comfort him “I appreciate it anyway”

His strong arms surround your waist and you wouldn't want to change him with anything in the world.

You look him in the eyes “I love you”

“Damn I guess that's true, considering the crap I just made”

And he laughs too, finally relaxed.

“I love you too”

And he kisses you.

After all, breakfast is not that important.

[howlett-variants]

"I've got you"

a/n: I love Charlie Kenton sm, he deserves more love. Also, I haven't written an X reader fic in like 10 years forgive me.

Prompt: Charlie gets his ass kicked, thankfully he has you to patch him up! Words: 2,975 Tags: gn!reader, post movie, hurt/comfort, Charlie is very dog coded to me and I don't know how to tag things anymore

You could have never guessed your day to go like this. Work had been boring as all hell. The only thing keeping you going was the thought of getting to hang out with those you cared about most over at Tallets Gym. Bailey was basically your closest friend at this point. She was kind and caring but could always match your energy- especially if that energy was being angry with Charlie. Speaking of Charlie, seeing him was always one of the best parts of your day. Even when he was being an idiot, or impulsive, or both- he always knew how to put a smile on your face. Which was much needed after a boring day at work. You even looked forward to seeing Max most days. The kid was the spitting image of his father when it came to personality, which definitely had its downsides. Max was probably the most independent eleven-year-old you’ve ever met- he was always determined to do stuff by himself. Even if he ended up asking you or Bailey for help in the end. Things were never boring with the Kentons. 

Today would be no exception.

Your phone rang mere moments before you were about to park in front of the rundown gym.

“Hel-” You started, but were quickly cut off by the sound of your good friend Bailey in a panic.

“Charlies hurt.” “What?” “Max just called, and he’s freaking out-” You could hear her voice quicken on the other end. 

“Slow down Bail, where are they?” “Some gas station twenty minutes outside of town, they were on their way back from a fight and-” She gave you a few more vague responses, clearly not sure of the situation herself, but that was okay. You could work with that. There weren’t that many gas stations on that side of town, plus it would be hard to miss Charlie’s massive green truck. 

–

Ten minutes, and a few potential road laws broken, later- you finally spotted the truck. You pulled up next to them, attempting to not fully slam on your brakes. Your panic had slowly grown over the last few moments, and panicked driving is not a good idea. 

Tossing the door open in a quick motion, you stepped out and ran over to see Charlie sitting on the tailgate of his truck. Max was next to him, holding a makeshift ice pack to his face. 

“How’s he doing?” You plant your feet in front of them, doing your best to keep your arms at your side to not fret over him. At the sound of your voice, Max looked over with a smile. Charlie attempted to look at you, but winces the moment he tried to open his eyes.

“I’m fine- just a black eye.” Charlie replied weakly, still unable to fully open his eyes. 

“He might need stitches this time.” Max’s smile fades, returning to a worried expression. 

“Let me see.” Max nods before jumping off of the tailgate, making room for you to take his place. You carefully move to sit next to him, close enough for your legs to touch. You reach a hand up to his face, slowly peeling away the ice pack. It took everything in you to not visibly tense at the rather nasty wound on his face. Whoever beat him up this time actually used a weapon, brass knuckles, if you’d have to guess. He had a large gash right next to his eyebrow, reaching almost to his ear, as well as a black eye and numerous other bruises all over his neck. You can only imagine the amount of bruises he was hiding on the skin you couldn’t see. “Yeah…that’s going to scar. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Don’t have one…” He mumbled.

“Come again?” You can’t help but sigh, “With how much you get beat up-”

He avoids your glare and refuses to respond, which is Charlie for ‘You’re right, but I will not admit it’. With a slight roll of your eye, you reach into your back pocket with your free hand and take out your wallet to hand to Max. “They should have bandages, or at least some cotton balls I can use to stop the bleeding. Grab what you can- if nothing else, your dad can save it for later.”

The kid nodded as he took your wallet before running back into the gas station. It probably wasn’t your smartest idea to just hand your wallet to an eleven-year-old, but you knew Max would at least grab what you asked- even if he came back with a few extra snacks.

Seconds after he left your eye-line, you heard Charlie suck in a sharp breath. The sound caused your full attention to turn back to the man next to you. He was no longer sitting upright, but instead leaning on the side of the truck as if the metal wall was the only thing holding him upright. You were quick to notice the stiffness in his shoulders was far worse than a few seconds ago, and you didn’t have to ask why to know what was going on in his head. 

“Char, the kid just watched you get your ass kicked- again. You don’t have to act all tough. Hell your face is bleeding like some kind of horror movie victim. He knows that you’re not alright.” It broke your heart to see him like this. He was always putting on a front of the big strong unfeeling douchebag, but you knew better. You also knew better than to question it. Max was a strong kid, but he was still just a child. No kid should have to watch this dad getting beat up as much as Charlie did. You moved your hand from his face to his shoulder, using your thumb to rub soothing motions in a small attempt to comfort him. 

“How’d you get here so fast?” He questioned, completely avoiding your concerned comments.

“Max called Bailey. Bailey called me. Here I am.” You moved your free hand up to his face, attempting to inspect the wound a bit more. Fingers lightly holding his chin, making it easier for you to move his head if needed. He couldn’t help but lean into the small touches. “I think I still have some pizza in the car. It’ll be cold by now though.”

He let out a light chuckle, mouth struggling to turn into a smile without pain. “Maybe when my face is done bleedin’ out.”

You smile at him, grateful to hear that his sense of humor was still intact. The moment he winces again, your smile falls. “What the hell happened?”

“Just some assholes that I used to owe money to, what else-” He pouts, “I would have been able to our run em but-”

“Max…”

He didn’t have to even look at you for you to understand what he meant. From what Bailey had told you in the past, getting his ass kicked out of the ring was nothing new for Charlie. He was constantly coming back to the gym with cuts and bruises, and the occasional broken bone, but ever since he regained custody of his son, he’s tried to be a lot more careful. He had always been reckless and almost uncaring when it came to what happened to him, but now he had someone to protect. Thankfully, the Atom fights had helped pay off practically every debt he had ever owed, but there were still some people who had it out for him that couldn’t give less of a shit if his son was watching or not. 

The hand on his face slowly moved to the back of his neck, before you carefully pulled him closer to you. You positioned his head to rest comfortably on your shoulder. Your other arm snaked around his back, holding him in a secure hug. “It’s okay…I’ve got you.”

Your hushed tone was all he needed to melt completely into your hold. His face hid in the crook of your neck, like it was the only thing keeping him in one piece. His arms found their way around you, holding onto the fabric of your shirt like a lifeline. Charlie Kenton was many things. He was a boxer who had seen his fair share of violence, as well as a man who routinely went to shady places for robot fights, but he was also a father who had no idea what he was doing. To him, there was nothing more terrifying than the idea of his son watching him bleed out (and potentially die). Whoever had attacked him this time didn’t hold back. He honestly didn’t know if he was going to make it out in one piece. 

He was in pain and scared shitless, but you were there. You kept him grounded, like you always knew what to do or say to keep his anxieties at bay. You were his rock, and he was yours. The two of you had this unspoken thing that not even Bailey dared to bring up to either of you. You could feel your shoulder becoming damn, from both tears and the blood from his wound- but you didn’t care. The stains would come out, and even if you ended up having to throw the shirt away, it didn’t matter. What mattered was the man quietly sobbing in your arms. 

He would never admit it, but Charlie cried a lot. Never in front of you or anyone else, but you’d always catch him silently crying to himself in the middle of the night. You knew that Bailey and Max were aware, but all three of you knew better than to mention it to him. Anytime that you gathered the nerve to ask him if he was alright in the middle of his crying session, he’d just yell at you to go away. You knew he never meant to actually yell at you. Normally he’d even apologize the next morning with a vague ‘sorry about last night’ while avoiding any actual questions about whatever he had been upset about. But right now, he didn’t care. There was nothing he needed more than you. 

—

Time passed by in a small blur. The only sound you could hear was Charlie’s heavy breathing finally beginning to regulate itself to the sound of your light humming. His arms were still wrapped around you, but the grip on your shirt had loosened. You still had one arm around his back, the other had found its way to his hair- playing with the short brown strands. 

“I got some stuff!” Max’s sudden voice startled you both. You turned your head in his direction to see that his hands were filled with an assortment of bandaid boxes, a bag of cotton balls, and a few snacks that he bought with your money (which you fully expected would happen). Charlie’s body went stiff under your arm at the sound of his son’s voice, embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable state. “This is all they had.”

“Thanks kiddo,” you smiled at him. The arm around Charlie’s middle let go, so you could reach out for the ‘medical’ supplies. He silently mourned the loss of the touch the second you let go. You placed the items next to you before your gaze returned to Max. “Why don’t you sit up front and update Bailey, tell her we’ll be back in a little bit. I’ll get to work patching up your dad’s apparently very punchable face.”

It was a poor attempt at a joke, but Max still smiled. Charlie made a mental note to thank you later for the small attempt at saving what was left of his pride. Thankfully, Max obliged and left to go sit in the front seat, giving you two a bit of privacy.

Using both your hands, you carefully lifted his head off of your shoulder. He made a small noise of disappointment as you pulled him from his safe spot. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself. You held his face in between your palms as you examined his face one more time. His eyes were a little swollen from the crying, and he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The adrenaline must have finally worn off. 

“Okay, I’ll do what I can, but I’m taking you to actually get this checked out first thing in the morning.”

“Fine by me.” his words were beginning to slur together. Something told you that you’d be the one driving the truck back to town tonight. It would be safer to leave your old car than the massive truck holding one of the most popular boxing robots at the moment. 

Your humming continued as you cleaned up the drying blood from his cheek. There was only so much you could do with the limited items (and skill) you had, but you stayed focused. With the bleeding stopped and wiped away, the wound wasn’t as bad as you originally thought. It would still leave a nasty scar, but it was small enough that a trip to an actual medical professional could wait. As you worked, you could feel Charlie’s head become heavy in your hands.

“You falling asleep on me?” You teased lightly.

“mmmno.” It was more of a noise than an actual word. 

“Almost done, big guy. Then you’re welcome to crash on your little cot back there.” Between the warmth of your hands, the soft touches, and your quiet humming as you worked- Charlie was practically melting. Bailey and you liked to joke that he was like a dog sometimes, from the bursts of impulsive energy, to the unapologetic joy over the smallest things, and of course his mastery of the ‘puppy dog eyes’ that he often used on you and Bailey to get what he wanted. He would always scoff or roll his eyes whenever you would tease him or whenever you called him a dog. You couldn’t help it, especially at times like this- with his eyes comfortably closed and melting into your every touch. It was adorable, despite the fact that you were actively cleaning up a wound. 

“Can’t sleep yet-” His body betrayed his words by interrupting his sentence to let out a yawn. “Gotta drive back.”

“Not like this, you’re not. I’ll drive.” Driving the truck wasn’t your favorite, but you have done it before. As long as you didn’t get pulled over, you could drive it home without a problem. “C’mon, let’s get you into bed before you actually pass out on me.”

With a light pat to his cheek, he dutifully allowed you to help him stand. His head immediately seeking your shoulder to lean on again. He was taller than you, but still seemed perfectly comfortable once he found the crook of your neck again. You blamed the blood loss and the crying for how touchy he was being. It’s not that he wasn’t a touchy person. He had a lack of personal space with those he was close to, but this was different. For a second, you questioned if this was even beyond him seeking you out as a source of comfort. 

Ignoring the swirl of worry and emotions you had yet to even fully admit to yourself, in your stomach, you carefully led him over to the cot inside the truck. You gave him a small nudge to sit down. He listened with only a small sound of complaint. The disappointment was short-lived. You could almost see ears perk up the moment you returned to sit by his side. 

“Thanks…for doing all this.” Standing must have woken him a little. His voice was much clearer than it was a few seconds ago. 

“It’s not like I was going to let you bleed out.” You rolled your eyes with a small smile across your lips, as you finished putting the last bandaid on his face. It was a haphazard job, but it would do the trick- at least for a few hours. 

“I know. Glad to have you on my side is all.” Your eyes moved from the collection of bandages to his eyes, feeling a little shocked by the genuine emotion they held. Charlie didn’t have a lot of people to count on. You knew that better than anyone.

“I’m happy to patch you up anytime.” Your hands left the sides of his face where you had been diligently working, moving down to find his hands. He took the hint and intertwined your fingers, giving them a light squeeze. The two of you were bonded, neither wanting to question of risk actually talking about what that bond was. You were waiting for him to say something, and he was in between being far too chicken shit and waiting for you. So many days spent dancing around either other like this. You knew, even now, that neither of you would mention the softness and tenderness from tonight’s interaction. He’d go to sleep as you drove him, and he’d wake up not remembering much of the night in the first place. Still you sat with him, foreheads pressed together, basking in each other’s company. 

“I gotta take you home, Char.” You whispered, not wanting to leave this moment yet. His grip on your hand tightened, but he still allowed you to pull away.  

“Tomorrow, let me take you to dinner.” His voice wasn’t as quiet as yours, but it was even more unsure of itself. Speaking before thinking, as always, but looking deep into your eyes this time. “As…thanks.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the offer. The two of you went out for dinner alone all the time, but something about this felt different. You gave his hand one final squeeze and planted a small kiss on his cheek before standing up. “It’s a date.���

[satzumosupremacy]

The Sun Shines After A Storm

Male reader x Sana 9k words

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slight kink

(Intro) A/N: 2 broken souls, copping an emotional trauma in different ways, slowly falling for each other but won’t tell, trying not to get hurt again.

A breakup can always be hard to forget with the memories and time you had with your ex. A four-year relationship, shattered within minutes, but the problem wasn’t with you; your ex had taken you for granted, a rebound, used, and cheated on you. She played her cards right, discarding you for someone else. Going out to drink and party was your only way of healing. It wasn’t healthy, but why should you care anymore? 

A fool that you are, reminiscing about the good times you had with her devilish act behind a fake smile that you never knew until the last minute. You go clubbing with your friends, and they try to cheer you up as much as they can. It doesn’t work very well.

“Let’s go on the dance floor, we’ve been sitting for too long.” Your group of friends wanted you to join them.

"I’ll come in a bit, don’t worry." Your group of friends got up and left you alone at the bar table. You chat with the bartender about the different types of drinks, trying everything possible to forget your ill memories. You’re buzzed at this point with the amount of alcohol you consumed, not knowing a woman across the room staring right at you and walks slowly over. You tilt your head forward, trying to sober up more. You felt a breeze behind you, not knowing she was sitting beside you. She’s looking at you, wondering what went wrong with your life to get to this point. She taps on your shoulder, and you look up at her. 

“Why is a handsome man like you getting drunk?”

You couldn’t say anything, her beauty makes you stunned. A slight pause in the air, just looking at her.

“It hasn’t been good these last couple of months.”

“Do you want to talk about it, I can be someone you rely on. Let’s be friends, I want to know you more, what’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N, what about you?” You don’t want a friendship with a women at this point, not trying to get hurt again.

“Mhm, be my friend and I’ll tell you my name.” She giggles at you. Her giggles are cute, vividly seeing her nose scrunch.

“Are you here with your friends?” She curiously ask you.

“Yea, they’re dancing right now.”

“Be my friend, I’m here to listen to you. I won’t judge.” You start to think she is interested in you, not even wanting to be friends. “Should we go somewhere quiet together?”

“Like where?” You answer her, thinking she’s beating around the bush.

“A place that you might like.” She smiles brightly at you. You took the offer, getting sober as you talk to her. You text your friends that you are heading out. She holds your hands and pull you along with her to the parking lot.

“You drove here didn’t you, I came with my friends, I’ll need you to take me home later.” You nod at her, walking towards your car, and she gives you an address. You put it in the navigation and headed out.

“I’m Sana, nice to meet you, Y/N.” Finally giving you her name

“That’s a nice name, Sana.”

“You look broken inside, can I show you how you should be treated?” She gets straight to the point.

“I don’t know, we’ll see about that.” You try shrugging her off nicely. She pouts at your answer.

“If you don’t know, why did you let me in your car?” Sana tries to corner you in a teasing way.

“I don’t want to be at the club today for some reason.” You can see houses in your view only, catching on that it might just be her house that she gave to you, and it was when the navigation said you reached your destination. She fooled you, but it didn’t surprise you, having a mindset that all women are the same after your breakup.

“I’m sorry, but I really do want to know you, I just didn’t have a place to chat with you unless it was my house.” You forgive her halfheartedly.

“Come inside.” She smirks at you.

You exited the car with her and walked to the entrance. Sana unlocks her door. The house was big, considering how small it looks outside. 

“Feel free to sit down on the couch.” You sit on the couch, looking at her grabbing some snacks to place on the table by you.

"Sana, can you show me where the bathroom is?" You feel the urge to puke from all that alcohol. She leads the way to the bathroom, and you close the door just in time to puke. Sana comes back rushing in, panicking and tapping your back as you puke. You then think she’s nicer than you thought, helping you as quickly as possible. Sana feels bad for you because of the amount of alcohol you puked. She realizes you are so broken inside and wants to help. 

“I’m sorry, Sana, but thanks for helping me.”

"It’s okay, I’ve been there before, I understand." Her words hit you, knowing you aren’t the only person who’s having a rough time. You get up and wash yourself. She goes to sit on the couch and waits. You come back and sit, and she inches closer to you. Sana grabs some chips to eat. 

“So what do you want to talk about, Sana?” She places the bag of chips on the table.

"Well, I’m not actually here to talk, I want to fuck. I’ll treat you how you should be treated." You weren’t surprised at this point again, but she’s smoking hot. She takes off her clothes, revealing her toned thighs and tits, and gets on top of you. 

"Use me however you want." She goes in for a kiss, making out with you and hearing the kisses in the cozy, quiet house. She grabs your hand and places your hands on her soft tits. It wasn’t the biggest or the smallest, but they fit so nicely on your hands, making you hard. 

"Fuck, you're so hot, I really couldn’t wait longer." You couldn’t even answer; her lips were glued to yours. Sana slowly grinds on your cock, which was getting hard. You take off your shirt as she gives you space. She’s fascinated by your body, and she places her hand on your chest, going back in for more kisses. 

“Take off the rest of my clothes if you want, Sana.” She quickly gets off, pulling off your pants and boxers.

"Ahh, you look so tasty. You don’t mind if I do, right?" She doesn’t wait for your answer, and you grab her by the chin. 

“Be a good girl for me, Sana.” She smiles at you and then smirks seductively.

"Please?" You see her eyes begging for your cock. You take your hands away and let her get a taste. Sana’s mouth wraps around your cock. Her warm breaths coat your length, and she starts bobbing her head slowly, deeper and deeper. She starts gagging when her nose touches the skin of your pelvis. You grunt at how good she is at this and grabbed her hair as it got in the way. 

“Sana, you’re so hot.” She looks up at you and smile as she pulls herself out.

"I know I am; that’s why you came with me. You wanted this too." It would be a lie if you say you didn’t. You wanted her but never expected this quickly. She goes back to sucking you off, making a mess on your cock. You can’t hold it much longer; she’s amazing at giving you a blowjob. 

“Sana, I don’t think I can last longer if you keep going.” You grunt in a husky voice. She stops and pulls herself out of your cock.

“You haven’t had this kind of intimacy in a while I’m guessing.” Sana was spot on, you couldn’t say anything.

“Well, I don’t want you to cum either way this early. Follow me to my bed.” She giggles at you. She leads you to the bed and stops suddenly.

“May I be honest, I haven’t had any intimacy in weeks.”

"We’re both on the same page then." You reply, and she continues to walk to the bedroom. Sana pushes you onto the bed and gets on top as you sit by the edge. She brings her hands to the sides of her well-shaped tits, squeezing from the sides for you to look at. 

“I know you love my tits.”

"I do, Sana." You plant your face between her tits and kiss her cleavage; she mashes her tits onto your face as you go in for more. Licking and nibbling her nipples makes her moan softly. She giggles and laughs at the sensation she feels. 

“You know how to treat a women, I’m glad you came with me.”

“You know how to please a man.” You added.

You kiss her neck; making her moan erotically. Her voice is so gorgeous and seductive. You couldn’t help it; you went back to her tits, sucking and licking them. You hug her, not wanting to let go, and you bite her tits softly, making her squeal. You firmly squeeze her left tits with your hand, making a print on it as you grip it hard. She yells out of pain and pleasure as you suck on her right. "Fuck, you’re so amazing." She breathes heavier, feeling her chest move as her diaphragm expands and contracts. She was getting bite marks all over her tits. You loosen your arms for her to move around better and give her neck attention next. Slowly kissing them loudly, you use your left arm again, massaging her tits in circles. She giggles, loving everything you do. She starts to grind on your cock. You bring your hand down to her wet folds and gave her a tease, arching her back in the process. 

“Your so sensitive, Sana.” You laugh quietly at her.

"You should see how tight I am, you’ll love my body even more." You pull her chin towards you and kiss her; she moans from you French kissing her. She rests her hands on your shoulders, and your hands still rub her clit slowly. Sana’s breaths get heavy; her hands lock you by your nape and doesn’t let go of your lips. Sana is a great kisser, and you wanted more of her soft lips on yours. The minutes go by slowly, still making out; she was drunk off your kisses. 

“Sana, let m-” She doesn’t let you speak. Sana loves how you kiss her. She tilts down to your neck smothering your neck with her soft lips.

“Sana, let me taste you.” She finally stops.

“You’re such a great kisser, I couldn’t help myself.” She laughs and lick her lips, making eye contact with you.

Sana gets off, and you get up after making out with her. She sits on the bed now, and you kiss her inner thighs while your hands squeeze her tits. She yells and moans at what you are doing. "Eat me already." You heard her and lick her wet folds in a circular motion; her moan becomes erotic and louder. She falls down and lay on the bed as you insert your tongue inside her and lick her pussy. She grips the bedsheets and brings her legs to your shoulders, squeezing her tits harder, and yells out moans of pleasure. You suck on her sensitive clit. Her hands grip your hair as you keep pleasing her. "Fucking make me cum hard." You grant her wish and slide two fingers inside her, hooking onto her tight walls and rubbing them inside. You look at her while you finger and fist your hand inside her. She couldn’t maintain eye contact as her head tilts back. You grab her by the neck and choke her lightly. 

She smiles and brings both her hands to your arm; her pussy gets more wet from you fingering her vigorously. Your fingers get soaked from her juice as you pull it out and give her pussy a taste. "That’s so hot of you." She compliments you as you go back to finger her. Her moans become more high pitched, you wonder if she will cum if you keep fingering her at this speed. You choke her harder, still smiling from the kink that she loves. You insert your fingers deeper, feeling how tight she really is. You lick her clit, making her get to the edge of cumming. 

She suddenly becomes quiet, mouth opened; you know she is cumming and you use your fingers as a hook to feel more of her walls. She screams as her back arches and legs start shaking. Sana breathes heavily as you finger her faster. Her chest pumps, gasping for air, and you let go of your arm on her neck. Her breathing slows down, and she tries to get up. You grab her hands and help her out. 

“I really found a man that can please me this good.” She complimented you. You smile at her, realizing she got you smiling again.

“Want it inside, Sana?”

“Yes please.”

She guides you to lay down as she gets on top. Sana keeps smirking, waiting for this very moment. She kisses your lips, down to the chest, feeling her tits drag along your body and onto the tip of your cock. Sana licks your cock from your sensitive tip to the base, staring right at you. Sana stands up on her knees, holding your cock, and then inserts your cock inside her. She goes down slowly as you both moan; her folds stretch to the girth of your length. 

"Fuck, you feel so good inside me." Her moans are erotic. She grinds on your cock, exchanging breaths with her as she starts to moan softly. You grab her soft tits, massaging them. She moans louder as you take the lead and penetrate her deeply. "I think we should take this slow and deep."

"We can do that." You replied. Sana starts riding you, and her walls start to get tighter and wet. You grab her ass with both hands and play with them. Sana’s moan gets louder, and you rub her clit.

"Fuck, it feels so fucking good inside me." She brings herself to lay on top of you, feeling her tits mashed against your chest. You kiss her neck, smelling her distinct scent. She rides you slower, wanting the pleasure to last longer with you. Sana guides your chin up to her face.

"Keep making out with me; I want more." You laugh at her desperation. You grab her nape, pulling her face, and glue to yours. The quiet room fills with kisses and bodies crashing into each other. She moans softly and rides you slowly as you both make out. You feel how good she slowly rides you. 

“I don’t want this to end.”

“I could say the same, Sana.”

She holds your face, aggressively showering you with loud kisses. Your hands reach down to her ass and give her a light spank. 

"Harder." She laughs and goes back to make out with you again. You spank her harder, yelling within her moans, and she gives you a slight giggle. You love her seductive voice so much. She makes her way to your neck, and you tilt back to give her room, feeling the soft lips that she’s kissing you with on your neck. She doesn’t say a word, just moans at you penetrating her tight walls. Sana slows down riding you and lets you do the work this time. You position your legs up, and she leans in more towards you. She suddenly hugs you by the neck, bracing for what you will do next. 

“You can cum inside me, I’m on a pill.”

“I don’t think I can even pull out to your beauty, Sana.”

You feel her face getting warmer; most likely she’s blushing at your words. You slowly thrust her deep; she squeals as you went deeper. She momentarily couldn’t kiss your neck; you just feel her warm breaths as she breathes heavily to your thrust. You hold onto her soft ass, your other hand gripping her nape. The slow sex that she wanted started making you reach your limit, not knowing how long it’s been, but the time you had with her was amazing. 

“Sana, I won’t last longer.”

“It’s okay, I’m yours for the night anyways.”

You pick up the pace and thrust her harder, using moderate speed. She moans loudly at the pillow and near your ears, her voice still seductive as always. You pin her head like you were hugging her at the same time. She gets butterflies in her stomach, not knowing that you, a one-night stand, can handle her like she wants and show her how you treat her gently at the same time. You keep thrusting until you feel your cock pulsate. 

"Sana, I’m going to cum." She doesn’t answer; she's busy kissing you on the neck and on your lips. You thrust her for the last time before you start to cum. You stop deep inside her and release your warm cum, flooding her walls. It doesn’t stop there; you haven’t had sex in a while, and release more than she expected. Sana moans as you keep cumming more inside her. 

"Ah, that’s so much!" Sana yells in a happy tone. You pull your cock out of her, cum oozes from her pussy and onto your cock and the bedsheets. She takes the chance and tastes your cum, wiping off the bedsheets. Your cock was coated with your cum, and she sucks you off, not missing a single drop. Sana looks at you, licking off her fingers seductively, and kisses the tip of your cock. 

“You taste so good.” Her smirks are so deadly. She lays beside you and you check the time on your phone.

"It’s very late, Sana." You plan to leave, like any one-night stand, but a part of you wanted to stay with her. You try getting up, feeling her hand grab you, and look back. 

"Can you… stay the night with me? I think you need to rest here tonight; it’s already late." You couldn’t decline the offer and stay for her, laying down to her again. Your eyes met hers, eye to eye, staring into each other. You now wonder how broken she is too, but you don’t want to ask her. She taps her chest, telling you to sleep on her tits. You inch closer, and she hugs you tightly. She was fast asleep in your presence, and you fall asleep quickly after. 

It was an hour later, Sana didn’t fall asleep; she only closed her eyes as she got teary. Sana waited until you slept. You didn’t notice that until you heard her cry and woke up to it. She wasn’t facing you anymore, trying not to be loud as she cried. You pull her shoulders back so you can see her. 

“Sana.. What’s wrong?”

"I haven’t felt this much attention in a while." Her words shattered you into pieces. A woman crying right in front of you. You try to understand why she feels like this. 

“Sana, I’m here to listen.” You kept your words short and simple. She musters up the courage to tell you.

“I’ve had slept with people to cope my past relationship, but you were the first to stay after.”

You start putting the pieces of her past together. “She’s probably hurt longer than me” You thought to yourself.

You pat her hair and gave her a hug by your chest. You didn’t want her to cry like this, but the missing piece that you want to know was how she actually started this copping mechanism.

"I’ll tell you why I drink, but may I understand why you did this also?" You speak to her carefully, not trying to make her cry more. She stops crying and listens to what you have to say. 

“I was used and cheated on with another guy. It was a four year relationship, I wanted to propose to…… her sooner or later, but it ended painfully.” You almost broke down with her just telling her about yourself.

She clears her throat. "I was in a sexless relationship. He didn’t give me as much attention as I gave him. We argued a lot; I cried, but he didn’t care. I also have a high sex drive. I told him sex is also something that couples can bond more with, and it made him mad. One day I came back home, and I caught him sleeping with someone else. He didn’t know I saw him, and I ran to my friend's house. I texted him that I was staying with my friends for the night. The next day, I came back home to confront him, but I waited and waited for him to come back……. He left me alone in an empty house; his clothes and stuff were all gone." 

You gulped, never thinking she actually had this much pain after seeing her smile at you when you met her. You couldn’t help but shed tears as she started to cry again. You hug her tight as you both cope with each other's scarred past. She doesn’t stop crying, and you reach for the napkin on the nightstand. You wipe off her tears and she does the same back. Sana was unknowingly catching feelings for you. The time you spent listening to her, being gentle, being there for her, and giving her what she wanted from you added up to you unknowingly sparking her feelings. Sana tries to keep it to herself, not wanting to get hurt again. 

"Why would anyone do such a thing to you, Sana?" You try to assure her. Sana’s breathing slows down, crying to sleep. You lay still, looking at the ceiling, feeling bad for her, and wanting to help each other recover from the scars. You slowly fall back asleep while you hug her.

It’s the next morning, and Sana wakes up to the side of you and looks at you sleeping. Small tears of joy form in her eyes, happy that you stayed with her through the night. Sana has never felt this much love from a man. She goes in for a kiss, making you wake up. Your eyes met hers; she was so beautiful with the smile she gave you. No words were said; you both stare at each other. Sunlight shines at her, and you see how beautiful she is just looking at you. Sana starts blushing and getting shy at you as you both stare, waiting for a word. 

“Can I give you breakfast in bed?” Sana giggles

"Yea, sure." You thought you were actually getting breakfast, but she thinks differently. She gets up, sits on your chest, and inches closer to your face. You laugh, never expected this kind of breakfast from her. 

“May I?” You asked

“Can we be friends with benefits at the very least?” She curiously asked you.

“I mean, why not?” She sits on your face as you greet her folds. You lock on her soft thighs and lick her pussy. Sana moans from your tongue pleasing her.

"Sana, I want you to turn around; you can have breakfast too." She gladly turns around and plants herself on your face. You lock onto her thighs, feeling and caressing her ass. Sana kisses your tip and licks your length as it gets hard. Her mouth feels so good on your cock, you can't get enough of her. You eat her pussy slowly, wanting her to feel every pleasure you give her. Her body jerks as you dig your tongue into her. Sana moans softly, making a mess on your cock. You can hear her swallowing her mess here and there. Sana slowly grinds on your face, and you giggle at her action. 

“Make me cum if you want.” Said Sana.

“Isn’t breakfast suppose to be eaten slowly?” You tease her, making her aroused.

"Fuck, you’re such a tease, it’s so hot of you." You’re glad she played along with you, and she sucks you off slowly. You keep your pace, squeezing her ass and making her squeal. Sana jerks you off; she was feeling good to you licking and sucking her pussy while she moans. You lock her thighs harder from her legs jerking too much. She giggles and moans at your aggression. You stop for a bit, and she goes back to sucking on your cock. You kiss her thighs and her ass; she was blushing with the amount of attention you give her body. Sana sucks on your sensitive tip, making you jerk a little, and heard her giggle at what she did. You rub her clit and look at how appetizing she is. It was so wet, hearing the sounds it make as you rub her area. You insert a finger into her tight walls slowly, hearing her moan loudly, and you insert a second finger. Her body arches, feeling her body pushed onto yours. 

“Are you going to cum, Sana?” She releases her mouth from your cock.

“Please make me cum, I can’t take it anymore.”

You lock her legs again; she won’t move around much this time, as you want to make her cum hard. You glue your mouth to her folds and eat her at a fast pace. She falls down on your legs, moaning loudly and yelling with pleasure. You are addicted to her voice now, loving how she moans. You flick your tongue on her clit and insert a finger into her folds, fingering her faster to cum. Sana’s body jerks around more; you go back to pin her as she starts cumming and lick her pussy as she cums. She starts to squeal and yell at you making her cum. 

"Ah, fuck, don’t stop!" She grips the bedsheets and clenches her teeth from cumming hard on your face. Her body stops moving, feeling exhausted from cumming and you shower her thighs with kisses until she’s ready. 

“Do you want to see a good view of me?” She giggles.

“Of course.”

Sana gets up from the pillow, turns her back to you, and you open your legs for her. You saw her toned back, and her ass in your view. Sana slowly inserts your cock in her and starts riding you, seeing her ass bounce on your thighs and pelvis. "You like the view?" She said it seductively. 

"Your body is so hot, Sana." You compliment her. She has her ways of seducing you with her voice in bed that gets you turned on. You couldn’t bear to see her toned back not getting any attention. You sit up as she still grinds and rides your cock, and you wrap your arm around her tits. You kiss her back, making her giggle and moan. "Fuck, that tickles." You didn’t stop and decide to tickle her sides; she rides you faster from being tickled. You lock her legs in place with yours, and she gets on all fours and rides you faster, taking every inch of you. You couldn’t take the sensation she's putting you through and fall back down. She looks behind her and sees you grunt. You are going to cum to how tight she is riding you. 

“I want to get on my knees for your cum.” She breaths heavily from riding you.

You got up from the bed, and she gets on her knees. "I think it’s better if your head rests on the wall, Sana." You grab a pillow for her head and then insert your cock as she opens her mouth for you. You slowly thrust your cock inside her mouth. She places her hands on your thighs, and her hair starts getting in the way. Reaching and grabbing a hair tie on her dresser, you put her hair into a ponytail, letting her suck on your cock slowly. You start thrusting inside her mouth again, and suddenly she wraps her arm around your thighs and pushes you in with each thrust. Saliva drips out from the corner of her mouth, and closes her eyes. You love how she looks taking your cock in her mouth. She doesn’t back down, but takes every inch of your cock. 

"Sana, I’m going to cum." You breathe heavily, you start releasing your warm cum inside her mouth as she takes it all in. Your body jerks around, almost losing balance, and you hold onto the dresser. She chokes on your cock, your legs still wrapped by her; she didn’t let go until the very last cum you release. She catches her breath with her mouth still on your cock. Sana lets go of you and starts coughing at the amount of cum she has in her mouth. Her saliva and your cum drips from her chin, stretching as it drops to the floor. Your cock was dripping with her mess, and she goes in to lick it off. You bent down to her, grabbing her by the chin, and place your thumb on her soft lips, dragging across and wiping the cum. She sucks on your thumb. "Sana, you’re so hot." It was all you could say to her after you placed your thumbs on her lips. She was catching her breath, and you raise her up as she stood still from kneeling. You made her sit down on the bed. Her knees got red from you thrusting her on the rug. 

"Thanks for putting the pillow on my back and the ponytail; that was manly." She didn’t have much to say but you understood her appreciation.

“Do you have bandaid and ointment, I’m sorry for hurting your knees, Sana.”

"Don’t be sorry; I would have stopped you if I didn’t want my knees hurting; I asked for it. You were aggressive, but I loved every second of it." She smiles at you. 

“Should we get breakfast?” You asked

“I have a place that I want to go.”

"Alright, let’s get ready." You really don’t know why you are still with her after a one-night stand. Sana takes a shower and comes back naked, right in front of you. You get surprised, wondering why she’s so bold. 

“Sa…na.” You could only stare at her body.

"It’s not like you've never seen my body." She pouts, pointing out a fact. You gulp at her amazing figure as she dresses up right in front of you. "Is my body really a distraction for you? I know I have a good body to fuck, but you should shower." She laughs, you grow fond of her smile at this point. You gulp again, then get up to wash yourself as she gives you an extra towel. After a couple minutes, you’re out of the bathroom as she patiently waits for you, putting on makeup, and hums quietly. 

“Should we head out?”

“Yea, let me finish putting on my mascara.” You wait on the bed, you see pictures of her childhood with her parents. The picture look recent, but realize she's an only child assuming from the photos.

“Are you an only child, Sana?”

“Yea, I am, what about you?”

“I have a younger sister. She’s in college right now.”

"Oh, that’s great, I would like to mee- I’m almost finished." You almost caught on but didn’t hear what word she almost slipped out. You just sat there, looking at her finish. Sana gets up, "alright let’s go." 

"Can I at least put on some ointment and bandages on your knees?" You question her. Her heart was racing from your question. She nods at you and opens up the dresser for you. Sana sits back down on the bed as you get on one knee and apply ointment and bandages. She was looking at you the whole time as her heart starts melting with you caring for her. As soon as you finish, you look up to her to tell her that you’re done. Your eyes met hers, seeing her face glow red as you both stare at each other. You couldn’t believe how beautiful she still is with makeup; nothing much changed but just some touch-up. 

“Am I pretty?” She laughs. You saw how she smiles with her eyes almost closing, she’s cute, but a different person in bed.

“You’re beautiful, Sana.” She blushes and you get up to follow her out the door. You go to the passenger seat to open the door for her without realizing you did.

“That’s manly of you.” Her heart was melting, she knows you are more of a better person than you think you are. You walk back to the driver seat, thinking that you really did that without knowing.

“What’s the address?” She gives you the location and head out. It was ten minutes away to a local ramen shop in Osaka. You arrive there, parked, and got out.

"How does your hand feel?" Sana asked and held your hand without you answering. She was flirting at this point. You didn’t mind her holding hands; you were getting butterflies in your stomach, but try not to catch feelings. You both sat at a table for two. The waitress gives both of you a menu, and you look through the menu. 

“What are you getting, Sana?”

“I want the seafood ramen, it’s my favorite dish here.”

“You must come here often.”

“I do, it’s a good place. What are you getting?”

"Thinking about takoyaki for an appetizer, and maybe curry ramen." She nods as she reads through the menu, looking for more stuff to order. 

“Ah, do you want some beer? I’ll get it since you are getting the appetizer.”

“Beer in the morning, Sana?” You wonder what really goes through her mind.

“It’s only one bottle that we are sharing. You can’t handle half a bottle?” She smirks, teasing you and laughing. You see her nose scrunch.

“I can, I just don’t drink in the morning, but feel free to order that.”

The waitress comes, and you both give your orders. The waitress leaves to notify the chef of the order. Sana looks outside the window. You see her smile, unknowingly making you smile too. She turns back, looking at you, but you look away, trying to hide the fact that you looked at her. You try looking at her to see if she’s still staring; in fact, she is. You join her, staring at her; both of you don’t break eye contact as she rests her arms on the table and pulls in closer. You do the same as her; both of you look madly in love with the random people glancing towards both of you as they eat. 

“What are you doing later?” She asked.

“Not sure, maybe go home after I drop you off.” You try to put up a wall around yourself, knowing you might get hurt if you catch feelings. You saw her frown.

"You don’t want to have my body after; it seems like someone can’t get enough." She whispered to you. Her comments make you speechless as always with her flirty and seductive nature. She sees you gulp, and Sana giggles quietly. 

"Isn’t friends with benefits something that we only call each other when we want and not every time?" You then forgot that she said she has a high sex drive. 

"Yeah, but I’m always alone. I can’t stand being in a house alone. Maybe we could work something out, like being roommates." She grabbed your hand and rubbed it as she said that. 

“Basically you want me to move in.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to.” Her smiles fade. You start to see how her past relationship really affected her. You decide to stay with her after.

"I’ll stay, but I won’t move in." She smiles brightly at you. The waitress comes to your table with the appetizers. Your muscle memory controls you, and gave her a piece of the deep fried octopus. She gladly accepts it with her mouth. You were tired at this point, disappointed at yourself that you did that, but for some reason, you couldn’t handle how naturally cute she can be. The waitress comes to hand over the ramen and leaves. You eat the takoyaki, as there will be one left. 

"Have the last takoyaki, Sana." Her heart beats faster and she gets flustered. She gets fond of you being respectful and caring for her. She takes the last bite, seeing how her cheeks expand with the food she’s eating and feeling like you are melting and growing fond of everything she does. She unknowingly spark your emotions and feelings, as it haven’t been after you broke up with your ex. Your heart starts pounding, trying to control your feelings. You start to wonder if crossing paths with her was a fate for both of you, thinking how two broken people end up within a night and eating together the next morning. 

“Why aren’t you eating?” Sana wondered

“Oh, just thinking.” She slurps some noodles, curiously wondering what you thought about.

“What are you thinking?” You didn’t want to answer, but you tell her anyways as she smiles.

"I was thinking about why we crossed paths with each other." Sana already understands, also thinking that two broken people meet within a night and eating in the morning. Her face was glowing red, trying to hide it and eats her ramen. You look at her glowing cheeks, knowing she understood what you said, and try to hide her face. 

"Mhmm, this ramen is steaming." You know she’s hiding her face glowing red, but pick up your chopstick and finish the food with her. It was quiet as you both eat, she’s having thoughts, as so were you. Sana finishes her plate first and waits for you. The bowl you have is almost done, and she takes a picture of the sunshine from the window. Sana smiles brightly; it breaks your heart knowing she’s hiding her pain through a smile. The waitress brings the check and you quickly give her your card to pay. It was too late for Sana to realize as she tried to reach her purse. 

“That’s nice of you, thanks.”

“I should be the one paying anyways.” You said to her.

She couldn’t take how you treated her, falling for you quickly without herself knowing. The waitress comes back with your card and receipt, you both head out to the car and back to her house. You exit, and she waits for you to open the passenger door. She reads you like a book, and so you do open the door for her. She finds you cute, good-looking at the same time. You wait for her as she opens the door and go inside. 

“Feel free to do anything as I clean up the house a bit.” Sana smiles.

You turn on the TV, giving some glances to Sana as she cleans the kitchen up. You look at the photos that were hanging in the living room. Family photos were the ones that stood out the most as you look at them. Sana sees you looking through the pictures, getting shy at you seeing her parents and when she was little. She doesn’t have any siblings, but knowing that she’s the only sibling must have been something you couldn’t relate to. Putting yourself in her shoes, you realize she didn’t have an actual sibling to look up to when she was young. You then see a more modern photo of her kissing a baby, which must be her aunt's baby. She looks like someone who loves kids. 

You turn back around, trying to go sit on the couch. She comes and hugs you like a teddy bear. Your heart starts beating rapidly at her sudden movement. You hug her also and hear her snuffle and cry quietly; you didn’t say a word, understanding how broken she is.

"She’s needy, but why would anyone do such a thing to her?" You spoke inside your thoughts; it makes you fill with anger at how someone can treat another person like this. 

You really can’t fight your feelings at this point if your feelings and thoughts are always about Sana. You’re taking the risk, not caring if Sana could potentially hurt you next. 

“Sana, may I tell you something?” Your heart was racing. She wipes off her tears on your shirt, smudging her mascara and looks up to you in a mess.

“I think we are meant to be together, Sana. Let’s date.”

She freezes looking at you. Her eyes gleamed, smiling at you with happiness. You saw an actual smile that wasn’t so fake anymore.

"I would agree." She cries tears of joy, hugging you tighter and almost cutting off your airway. She jumps with joy, not hiding her feelings, and kisses your lips. It quickly turns into a French kiss, and you stumble onto the couch, she gets on top, showing you the love she’s been hiding. The kisses feel like it last forever, but you love how she’s a great kisser.

"Sana." She doesn’t stop kissing. You kiss her more; her back arches toward you and the romance quickly fills the living room. Her past scars melt away as your love heals her. You start to realize Sana is the one who makes you see life in a new light. Your scars quickly fade away, only focusing on Sana, who is now your girlfriend.

She suddenly pauses and gets up. "Should we head to the bed?" You don’t say a word and get up with her, carrying her to the bed, and she covers her mouth, laughing and giggling. You toss her on the bed and both of you take off your clothes. You crawl on top of her, kissing her thighs, midriff, tits, and back to her soft lips that you crave. She grinds slowly on your cock, feeling it get harder. 

"Put it in me, please." You do what she says, you tease her and thrust your tip on her folds, and then slowly put it in for her. She closes her eyes from you entering her, Sana moans erotically and turns you on even more. Your body crashes onto hers, tits bouncing with each thrust. "Fuck, that feels so good; go deeper; make me take your cock." You slowly go deeper and she yells at how your cock was deep in her tight walls. You feel her toned abs and glide your hands over her body to her tits. You kiss her tits and suck on them, "ahh fuck, you’re so good; keep fucking me like this." You make your way to her face and kiss her. She kisses and caresses your neck, smelling your scent. "You smell so good." Sana wraps her legs around your back, taking your cock at an angle as her lower body hangs off the bedsheets by an inch. 

Her moans get erotic. You went back to kissing her amazing body and caressing it. You fuck her in that position, not knowing how long it’s been as your back started hurting from arching. You get up on your feet, making her legs wrap around your back, and you make her land on the dresser to sit. She moves her makeup without looking as she kisses you, dropping lipstick and a couple of unknown things she had on the dresser. She opens her legs for you to thrust inside. You thrust in her faster; Sana’s upper body drops down, and her head leans against the mirror. She moans loudly at your thrust, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. Sana arches her back, seeing her tits bounce with your body crashing into her thighs. You went in to suck on her tits. She giggles seductively and moans again after the sudden pleasure. You wrap your arms around her soft-toned thighs and penetrate her even more deeply, making her satisfied. "Ah, fuck, it’s so fucking deep." She grunts and yells, and you know she loves it when she feels pain and pleasure at the same time. She is breathing faster and heavier at how deep you are inside her. "Fuck!" Sana shouts, knowing that’s the only word she can say as you aggressively fuck her. She tries looking at you fucking her, but loses focus. Her eyes rolled back, taking every inch of your cock inside her tight walls and g-spot. 

You hear her gasping for air. You slow down and she manages to grab your arm, knowing she don’t don’t want you stop. You pick up the pace and back to penetrate her walls. She smiles through the moans, happy that you know what she wants without telling you. Your back was sweating, the room was getting humid from you and Sana. Parts of her hair were glued to her face with her smudged mascara. She was having the time of her life with you fucking her. "Fucking make me c-" Sana couldn’t finish the sentence as she tried to say it in a single breath. 

You understood what she tried to say, releasing your arms from her thighs as they hang down from the dresser. Immediately, you rub her clit in circular motion. She moans loudly at a high pitch. Sana starts to arch her back again, breathing heavier and almost seeing her rib cage with her toned abs. You want to cum deep inside of her as you keep thrusting. You feel sweat dripping down your face but don’t care; you want Sana to cum. She clenches her teeth, trying not to scream loudly the moment she cums. You grab her neck, knowing she loves it when you choke her. You apply moderate pressure to the sides of her neck and softly to her throat. She starts smiling and relaxes her mouth after clenching her teeth. 

"Don’t fight yourself; I love it when I hear you cum, Sana; it’s so hot." The smile doesn’t last long after you said that, making her drunk on your words. She arches her back, her body starts tensing, her thighs begin to shake, and she cums, making her scream and moan to you. Your cock pulsates at her voice when she cums, and you're going to cum from her walls tightening on your cock. 

“Fuck, Sana, I’m going to cum.”

You thrust inside her to make you cum. After a final thrust, you release your cum inside her. She was still riding out her orgasm, breathing heavily. You fall down towards her and hold onto the dresser, almost crashing into her.

She grabs you by your nape, pulling your face towards her and kisses you. You feel her breathe on your skin as her moans get softer and quieter.

“You said it so hot, can’t believe I came from you just saying that.” She gets shy at you, not knowing she could cum from your words.

“I thought you came just in time after that, not from what I said.” You laugh

“I was at the edge, but your words were so hot, I came unexpectedly from it.”

“I really can’t get over how you cum, it really is hot, Sana.” Her face becomes red, overwhelmed from your words of encouragement. She hugs you, and you get up along with her.

“Another round?” She caresses your hand.

“Anything for you, Sana.”

You toss Sana on the bed laying on her back. It isn’t the position you wanted and flip her to lay on her stomach. She giggles, getting man handled by you, and give her ass a light spank. You thrust on her crack, teasing her as you get hard again. Sana puts her hands on her back for you to pin her.

“You love being pinned don’t you, Sana.”

“It’s so hot being pinned by you.”

“You’re such a good girl, Sana.” You kiss her toned back and then insert your cock.

“Ah!”

You thrust her quickly as her body sinks into the bed with each thrust that your body collides with her. Sana moans with pain and pleasure as you penetrate her deeply. You grab her hands, holding them tightly like you’re stretching her arms out. 

"Fuck me harder!" She yells. You love how she wanted more, like she was now addicted to you fucking her. You push your cock in as deep as possible when your body collides with her, making her ass bounce on your pelvis. You release your hands from hers and put your hands on her hips, feeling her curves. Sana’s skin is soft, she knows how to take care of her body, knowing that it’s yours now. Sana gasped for air, overwhelmed by your aggression towards her. You slow down the pace, "I don’t want you passing out, Sana." She becomes flustered and moans more softly. You squeeze her ass, loving how nice and round they are. You get down closer to her body, digging through the bedsheets to grab her neck, and she tilts her head upwards for you. She smiles so seductively, gripping her own bedsheets as you choke her lightly. 

"Sana, you’re so fucking hot, I can’t stand it." She smiles happily, making her feel loved again. You kiss her cheeks and hair, giving her the love and attention that she’s been desperately searching for. 

"You smell so amazing, Sana." Tears of joy stream down as she closes her eyes. You love giving her the reassurance that she needs, melting your own heart as you fuck her slowly. You guide her to her sides; she stares right at you and wipes off her tears, smudging her mascara, still looking hot as ever taking your cock deep and slow. Her body was twisted from you guiding her to her sides and you grab her legs, lifting them to her side, and she spreads herself open. You lean towards her; your cock is deep inside Sana as you both stare into each other's eyes, falling deeply in love. You aren’t lasting any longer because of how hot she is. You don’t tell her that you are cumming; most likely she already knows from your cock pulsating within her tight walls. She smirks, showing her natural seductiveness and makes your cock erupt inside her. You cum hard, stopping your thrust deep inside her as you grunt and fall on top of her, giving you a hug as she feels your cum deep in her. You lay on her for minutes, catching your own breath to how hard you came. She kisses your neck, licking off the little sweats that you created. Suddenly, she gives you a hard bite, marking you her territory. You grunt, knowing what she’s doing. Your breaths slow down and you crawl back to her open legs. 

“Bite my thighs, my body belongs to you.”

You bite her thighs that is close to her wet folds, screaming in pain that sounds seductive. You give her inner thighs a hickey. Your cum oozes out like a flood onto her bedsheets; you scoop it up and give her a taste. She moans, getting a taste of your cum and licking your fingers clean. 

“I think we should wash the bedsheet, Sana.”

“Yea, it’s getting soaked with sweat and your tasty cum.” She laughs.

You and Sana get up to dress, removing the bed and pillow sheets. You fix her hair as you both walk to the laundry room and place the sheets in the washer. You hold her hand, getting out and sitting at the couch to rest. You keep fixing her hair, distracting yourself from her beauty. Sana looks at you and place her hand on your cheek.

“I- I love you.” You never heard that word in a long time, your heart beats quickly and gives you butterflies in your stomach. It took Sana a lot of courage to say that word again.

“I- I love you too, Sana.” She smiles, brighter than the smiles you’ve seen from her.

“Can we just cuddle? I want to spend time watching a movie with you.”

“I’m not stopping you.” You tease her and pulled her towards you. She turns on a movie, watching it until the sun starts to set as the movie ends. You admire everything about her, from her scarred past to how she is with you.

“Sana, I want to take you to a place.” The sun starts to go down and you want to take her to a place that you went to when you had the worst times in your life.

"I’ll drive this time." Sana said. Both of you get out the house and she quickly opens the passenger door for you and laughs. It feels weird for you, but you love how she can joke around while showing her love. You laugh with her and she goes back to the driver side door, you reach for her door, pushing it out for her. It makes her shy; never expecting that from you. 

You give the address to her and she drives off. It wasn’t far from the club you met her from as she drives up the mountain, seeing the beautiful view of the lights in the city. Sana arrives at the place and gets out, amazed from seeing the whole city from the mountains. You hold her hands, walking towards the bench, giving her a fantastic view of the city as the sun sets.

“Let’s take a picture together, Sana.” She agrees and pull out her phone, taking a picture of the city and both of you within the frame. She looks at the pictures, knowing she’s keeping this moment for memories with you. Sana puts her phone away and hugs you.

“Thank you for making me feel loved again.”

“I want to thank you also, Sana. I love you”

“I love you too.”

A/N: Pretty long story, depending how good this fic receives, I might make a 2nd chapter. This is also my first time publishing a fic. Thanks to @twice-inamillion and @coldfanbou for giving me feedback.

[werewolfsmile]

re: "All I’m saying is the fact that someone isn’t talking to me about Eliot Spencer every second of every day is very unfair and borderline illegal." & tags - if you want to, can you elaborate on your werewolf!eliot ideas?? i’d like to hear about it!! if not all good tho :)

Oh boy oh boy oh boy! Yes I would love to elaborate! (buckle up because i have Thoughts)

(wow this really got away from me so uhhh .... warning for 2k of ranting about Eliot as a werewolf?? list of headcanons under the cut)

From the moment I first met Eliot Spencer, I knew he was werewolf-coded. Aside from his insanely fantastic fighting abilities and the absurd amount of punishment he can take, there are many other factors that contribute to his werewolf status.

Eliot needs a pack Our boy is out here working on his own for years and look at all the good it did him! None! He carries severe trauma from his family life because he blames himself for how it all went down and doesn't think he'll be welcomed back. Plus something probably happened during his military days or early PMC days to put him off working with others. Could have been the pain of losing people all the time, could have been something more. Either way, Eliot working on his own is a defence mechanism - but a self-destructive one.

Wolves thrive in packs - like duh, they're pack animals. As my username suggests, I'm into werewolves and, by extension, wolves. I've done research for my own werewolf novels in the past, so I know that in an average wolf pack, each pack member will have physical contact with the other pack members on the regular. Like, several times an hour! (gosh if I can find the research paper this info came from I'll link it but honestly it's been years) That's a serious level of physical contact required to keep the emotional bonds of the pack healthy!

Flick back to Eliot. He loves to fight, he loves the violence and the pain, yes. He hates the killing and the blood on his hands. He actually tries to leave the assassin world behind after he meets Toby (which is before he meets Moreau, as per early dialogue in The French Connection Job). He bonds quickly with Toby. Show Eliot a little love and care and he's yours for life! He moves onto retrieval work, then somehow ends up working for Moreau.

Now, when we see Eliot and Moreau in The Big Bang Job, Moreau says, "You work alone." Which means that Eliot had that reputation when he came to Moreau. He probably only took contracts to start off with. But he accepted job after job from Moreau and was so good that he was highly respect and it's inferred he ended up as Moreau's top bodyguard/assassin. Why the hell would Eliot end up that close to a man who brings out all the worst in him? Because Eliot's a werewolf and no matter how toxic, Moreau fulfills the need for a pack bond that he's been missing all this time.

Fast forward to Eliot meeting the rest of the Leverage team. One job only - my ass. He saves Hardison's life after Hardison brought a gun to their little meeting - and we all know how Eliot feels about guns.

Wolves are designed to live and operate in packs. Eliot says it's one job only but is bonding with them all from the get-go. Werewolf trait confirmed.

Eliot needs physical touch Now, I know what you're thinking. Eliot canonically avoids physical contact with the team. He refuses hugs, especially from Hardison, growls at Parker poking his bruises (don't get me started on the growls), and shoves people (ahem Parker) out of his personal space. So why would he do all this if he needs physical touch??

Because he's one gigantic ball of angst and self-loathing and guilt.

Eliot doesn't think he deserves forgiveness or love or family, etc. That is a whole other rant, but he denies himself the physical contact he needs with others as a way of punishing himself.

However, as the series progresses, we see him become more comfortable with physical contact! He hugs Hardison several times, he doesn't move away from Parker, etc. Why? Because he's bonded with this team (ahem pack) and there's only so much he can suppress his instincts. The more time he spends with them, the more naturally the contact flows.

Eliot needs to protect others Whenever we get a scene of the team walking as a group, where is Eliot positioned 90% of the time?? That's right, at the back of the group. He lets the others walk in pairs and falls back to bring up the rear. He's keeping them all in his line of sight and constantly scanning for threats ahead, along with protecting the team from any rear attacks. It makes sense for him to do this given his military background, but it also makes sense for a werewolf to do this.

He's the only werewolf in the team. His instincts revolve around keeping the pack safe and protected, so he does that in the best way he knows how.

Not to mention how feral gets over kids!!

Wolf life is all about the pack and the family structure. Pups are integral to the pack's survival and future. Eliot doesn't have kids of his own. But that doesn't stop his instincts from blaring every time he interacts with a kid, be it on the con or off. He takes time out every time to help that kid in an attempt to calm the raging storm of instincts inside his body.

Eliot needs to feed others It's another werewolf instinct that rears its head when they're in the safety of their headquarters (ahem den). Protecting the team/pack from physical threats is just one aspect of taking care of them. Feeding them is the other major one.

None of these idiots can cook to save their lives - except Nate, but he's also drowning his liver 90% of the time, so Eliot has to compensate for that, too. The team can't operate at full capacity if they're not consuming good nutrition. So Eliot makes sure to feed them.

His humanity recognises that these are independent people - coworkers - and he can't control every meal of every day. But he can cook for them, once a week or once a job, which is just enough to satisfy his instincts that he's doing his part to care for them. Plus they love his cooking, and the praise he gets from it is an unexpected but pleasant bonus.

Eliot and team sports/kitchens This ties in with my first point about Eliot needing a pack, but all the times we see Eliot go super hard and get absorbed in the role he's playing are when he's on a team sport or he's in the kitchen. Both of these fulfill super important instincts for him - being in a team/pack and providing food for others.

Think about The Tap-Out Job. Eliot's playing a fighter but he's not pretending to be on a team. He doesn't get over-invested in the role. But what about when he's a baseball player? A hockey player? He falls into those roles hard because he's working with another team again, and this little werewolf is built for that environment. Same in The French Connection: the kitchen becomes his den, the students are his pack mates, and he goes hard at investing in them and protecting them. Never mind the personal aspect of Toby.

Same for episodes like The Fairy Godparents Job when we get a scene of Eliot teaching a bunch of girls self-defence. Team setting + protecting kids = happy werewolf instincts.

So, werewolf headcanons? I have a lot of different origin theories but the main one I like for Eliot is:

he became a werewolf either for a covert military op, or was bitten by Moreau (choose your own angst flavour)

if it was for the military, they were trying to engineer supersoldiers and he was deemed a failure; he has werewolf instincts all the time but only has enhanced strength, healing, etc on full moons

if it was bitten by Moreau, there's a psychic-style bond linking them, which is why he was so loyal to Moreau for so long, and also why he is so reluctant to go after Moreau

(wow this is too different theories already and i said this was my 'main one' whoops)

Eliot can only shift easily on the full moon; shifting outside of a full moon can only be caused by extreme stress and is ridiculously painful

he suffers an insanely high prey drive all the time and is so strict about his control because he doesn't actually wanna rip out the throat of Random Guard #3

he used to chain himself up for full moons so he didn't hurt anyone, but since the team found out about him, Hardison and Parker have taken it upon themselves to 'puppy-sit' him every full moon

this involves no chains but an obscene amount of dog chew toys. Eliot is never impressed. He also never chases or chews the toys. The video evidence Hardison has was obviously doctored.

Hardison and Parker found out the truth when a con went sideways and Eliot was trapped in a room with them during the full moon

he was terrified he was going to kill them - or worse, bite them - but his instincts recognised them as pack so instead he just tried to wrestle with them all night

Hardison had a major freak out when he discovered Eliot was a werewolf - it's one thing to be obsessed with sci-fi/fantasy, it's another thing entirely to see your best friend transform before your eyes

Parker was not even remotely phased, being all like, "pfft of course werewolves are real, I thought you knew that Hardison, you talk about your elves and orcs all the time!"

"Woman that is completely different and you know it!"

"What else do you think is fake? The tooth fairy?? Ha!"

Eliot is Done With Their Shenanigans

Parker only ever refers to Eliot as Sparky when he's in his wolf form

Sophie didn't actually know about werewolves before the reveal but she pretends that she did

Nate knew about werewolves before Eliot, he just chooses to pretend that they're Not A Thing

werewolves generally don't make good hitters, because the constant exposure to violence ramps up their hunting instincts aka they find it hard not to kill

of course, this doesn't matter if you're someone like Moreau who specifically wants killing machines and thus turns his top hitters into werewolves, to ensure loyalty and enhance his strength

the only other werewolf hitter not under Moreau's control that Eliot knows is Quinn, who most certainly did not pull his werewolf strength punches when they tousled in The First David Job

Quinn doesn't have a pack (werewolf or otherwise) and genuinely doesn't seem phased by this, which pisses off Eliot to no end

however, after they work together in The Last Dam Job, Quinn deems himself Eliot's Best Werewolf Bud and keeps popping up randomly to hang out on full moons, etc

Parker and Hardison are a bit weirded out (and a little jealous) of Quinn's attention initially, but soon get over that when they discover that two werewolves on a full moon absolutely play for hours like 6 month old puppies - especially with the tug rope

Eliot is Extremely Susceptible to belly rubs even in his human form, which is half the reason he pushes people out of his personal space a lot - his reputation would never survive anyone finding out

of course the entire team figures it out and take to ambushing him with belly rubs whenever he's being stubborn or annoying

belly rubs are also the only way he will relax enough when he's injured so they can treat his wounds

despite the incessant dog jokes, the ever-growing pile of dog toys, and the bowls labelled with "Sparky" and cartoon bone symbols ... Eliot absolutely adores the pack he's found himself in and wouldn't change them for the world

One of these days I will sit down and write a thousand fics for werewolf!Eliot! Till then, I'll just keep churning out the headcanons ;)

[cannedpickledpeaches]

Insert Your Name (11)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: Congratulations! You have successfully made it all about you (positive). This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

Sorry that the tags haven't been working for the past couple of posts! I had to go in and edit the html for each individual one T-T please forgive me

Tags: @guava-enjoyer @itszzmoon @twstsandturns @myteacupisempty @rou-luxe @chikitasmol @night-shadowblood-writes2 @haveneulalie @owodi

A strange sense of satisfaction fills you as surprise fills the man’s face, but you don’t show it. You need to see this through. If you’re powerless in the face of his ability, you simply need to borrow his power. So what if he’s akin to a god? All you need to do is bring him to your side. Whoever that author is, whoever took over (Y/N)’s body—maybe they aren’t capable of using such an asset effectively. However, you’re confident you won’t let that advantage go to waste.

The man hums in thought. “I suppose it could be done without much fanfare. I would simply need to shift my attention to your experiences and abandon the current story. However, you would need to have your story recorded somewhere, in whatever form you may wish for it to take.”

You understand what he’s getting at. A story needs a medium, just like that manuscript. There are many options: on film, as a novel, as a collage of pictures. No strict rules exist for expression of self.

“I’ll keep a journal. Every day, I’ll write an entry, and I’ll also use it as a planner. This way, my ‘story’ will have the events that occurred in my life, how they affected my ‘character development,’ and also outline how I expect the story to ‘progress.’ Is that good enough?”

You still don’t think of yourself as a fictional character. You’re real, in every aspect, to yourself. But that doesn’t matter right now. Functionally, you’re a character to this man. You’ll use that assumption to put yourself in the most advantageous position.

“Yes, that would be a rather interesting way to tell your story. There are indeed many stories that were written in the form of diary entries, so this is not an issue at all. This would, in fact, make things easier for me. I would not have to go through the paperwork and expend energy to bring someone from another world since you already exist in Twisted Wonderland as an established character. There is just one thing you should know before you make this decision.”

“Tell me.” Of course there are strings attached. There always are. You prepare yourself. Self-sacrifice in small amounts is necessary, of course, but if there’s anything you can negotiate with . . . .

“I will have to take the previous author’s soul out of (Y/N)’s body. (Y/N)’s soul will regain control of her own body, since it was never removed, only dormant. Since the author’s original body cannot function without a soul, she cannot return to her world. It will disappear, never to be recovered, lost to the fabric of what forms this space. Are you still willing to proceed?”

“Is that it?” You expected something else. This has nothing to do with you giving up anything. In fact, it could even be considered a bonus. This woman whose story made your life and relationships exceedingly difficult will disappear down to the traces of her soul. It’s an easy decision. “Of course.”

“How cold-hearted you are.” He chuckles down at his teacup. It never seems to drain empty no matter how he sips it. “That is not an undesirable quality in protagonists, although they often do not have a happy ending in fairytales.”

“Is that supposed to deter me or something?” You stay resolute. “My future was always uncertain no matter if it’s a story or not. I’m in the mafia. I’ve come to terms that horrible things could happen at any moment because of the nature of my job a long, long time ago. It’s my responsibility to plan so that I reduce those chances as much as possible. And you’re going to help me.”

“Yes, I am.” He glances at the fireplace, which has burned down to glowing red embers. “Perhaps you should count yourself lucky that you are under my jurisdiction. I am partial to tragic endings, but I also do not mind if an amoral character triumphs in the end. Some of my peers would adamantly ensure it does not happen.”

You furrow your brows. This is not the first time he brought up something being under his “jurisdiction.” However, this is the first time he’s mentioned “peers” instead of “characters.”

“There are others like you?”

“Yes, of course. Twisted Wonderland is filled with too many stories for me to manage on my own. Since you are mainly involved with the Leech Mafia and stories of the Coral Sea, you fall under my jurisdiction.”

It makes sense. This man compared himself to a god, but he isn’t one. He isn’t omnipotent or omniscient.

“Who are they?”

He tilts his head. “You would not know us even if I told you.”

“I’m curious. Tell me anyway.”

“Such a curious character.” He glances at the embers again. “Alright, I see no harm in it. My peers overseeing Twisted Wonderland include Walt Disney, the Brothers Grimm, Hanna Diyab, Victor Hugo, and Lewis Carroll, among others.”

None of these names ring a bell. It is just a list of names, but having more information is never a bad thing.

“And your name? I should know how to address you.”

“Oh, I have not yet introduced myself to you? My apologies, I must be turning forgetful in my old age.” He laughs at himself in a good-natured manner. “My name is Hans Christian Anderson. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduce yourself as well. He extends a hand to you. When your hands connect in a firm handshake, the new deal you’ve made feels solidified.

Anderson looks at the fireplace one more time. The light has died completely, the little room lit only by the moonlight pouring in the window. With a gentle but decisive clap of his hands, he stands from his armchair.

“That was a fruitful discussion, and I thank you for your patience and understanding. I fear time has run out, however, and so I will be sending you back shortly. I’ll place you right back where you came from: at the moment when I brought you here.”

“Hold on!” Too soon, too sudden. You still have so much to say. He holds up a hand, stopping your protests.

“If you’d like to communicate with me, simply write a request for it in your new journal. I wish you best of luck.”

And with that, the world goes white again.

This is the story of a girl whose name is no longer hers. A girl so common that she may as well be a faceless background character in another person’s story. A girl who wishes, more than anything, to be the protagonist of a love story that will sweep her off her feet and solve all her problems.

Her family is normal. Her friends, too. And so is she. It isn’t enough for her. The world inside that game she plays is so magical, so whimsical, so perfect. The characters are handsome, powerful, clever, funny, or rich, or some combination of those qualities. If she enters this world, surely all those wonderful characters would treat her as someone special. They’d love and revere her unconditionally. She pines for a man who would love her and her shortcomings in their entirety, no matter what she does.

The beauty about fictional characters is that because they are fictional, they can be whatever she wants them to be. She can wholeheartedly believe they’ll love her, and there is nothing wrong with that. But she isn’t satisfied with that alone. It needs to be real.

Desperately, she writes a story revolving around a faceless, flawless main character who she desperately wishes she could be. Everyday, the writing consumes her, dragging her into a fantasy of bliss. She begins to resent her reality. Nobody in real life will love her the correct way. Nobody can be as good as the characters she pours her love and headcanons on. She doesn’t consider how love can be gradual, nor does realize someone might have to get to know her before loving her. After all, in her fanfiction, the perfect mafioso loves her main character upon the first meeting and devotes himself with no questions asked. Isn’t that the ideal love?

One day, a miracle occurs. She meets a man who offers to make her story into her reality. Jumping on the chance to live her perfectly crafted life of happiness, she agrees. Finally. Finally, she will be loved the way she wants.

At first, everything went perfectly. Real life follows her fanfiction to the letter. Jade is charming, Floyd is endearing, and a string of coincidences leads her to meet Vil, another handsome bachelor. Love surrounds her at every turn. All she needs in this life are the handsome men who give her special treatment. After all, this body, this life—(Y/N)—was created by her, for her use. All of the previous relationships this body entertained no longer matter. They aren’t hers, anyway.

The polaroids that occupied her nightstand are probably in a landfill somewhere. The aesthetic was cute, befitting the tastes of a character she modelled after herself, but the person in them is irrelevant. Some side character she’s never going to see again. No matter; she’ll eventually replace those polaroids with cute photos of herself and her new love. (Y/N)—no, the placeholder—has served its purpose. It will not miss those useless decorations since it will never again have its own consciousness.

So where did it all go wrong? Perhaps it was wrong from the start. She should have cursed that old man for scamming her. Her happy ending was never a guarantee. How dare a throwaway side character upend her perfect, fairy tale ending? Is that even allowed? They’re all just characters anyway. How can they steal from a real person?

Until the very end, she couldn’t see anyone around her as anything other than characters in a story. Maybe if she did, she might have gotten the love she wanted. Now, she disappears, having never achieved the goal she so desperately grasped at. Like seafoam, her hopes and yearning for love bubbles and disappears.

Hans Christian Anderson places a book into an empty spot on one of his many shelves. He has always been fond of tragedies. As for this new story that’s unfolding . . . who’s to say how it will end? He’s a patient man. With a smile, he settles into an armchair and sips from a cup of tea. He’s looking forward to it. When it eventually ends, like all stories inevitably do, he’ll shelve it and find another story to bring to life.

The world suddenly flashes into focus. The sun’s dying embers flicker on the sea. Sand shifts between your toes. Fingers graze your neck. Before you can activate your Signature Spell, (Y/N) crashes into you and you both topple over into a bed of sand. Bloodlust raises the hairs on the back of your neck. But it isn’t coming from (Y/N). Instead, you instinctively wrap one arm around her and hold the other one out in front of you, shielding her from Jade.

“Wait, wait! Jade, it’s fine. I’m okay.”

He freezes. One of his hands stops a centimeter away from (Y/N)’s hair. She doesn’t react. Slowly, you lay back down, heaving a sigh. You shift her face to the side so that she doesn’t suffocate in your shoulder. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, complementing the slow rise and fall of her ribs.

“See? She’s asleep.”

Jade furrows his brows. “I fail to understand. Most importantly, are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring up at the stars that unveil themselves in the darkening sky. “I’m just a little tired.”

You explain everything to him. He seems skeptical, but eventually, he accepts it. He sits in the sand next to you, his hand covering yours. You pretend not to notice, but it offers a soothing calm to your exhausted mind.

“I’m sorry,” you say, glancing at his side profile. “Even if I write that Vil Schoenheit will cure your parents, it might not happen because of continuity issues. Maybe (Y/N) will still be able to convince him.”

“That’s alright.” He catches your gaze. “It would make the story progress more smoothly if we continue with our talks with Walrus.”

He accepted it so quickly. For that matter, so did you. You wonder briefly if there is something at play that makes you accept the reality of your situation as fact—if it’s because you’re a character after all—but that’s all speculation. Not worth your time and energy to figure out.

“Bottom line is, this is my story now. So I’ll make sure the curse on your parents is dispelled.”

“How reliable.” Jade gives you a gentle smile, one that causes an unfamiliar stirring in your chest. “Thank you. What would you like in recompense?”

You weren’t expecting him to offer anything at all. But since he offered, you aren’t one to refuse.

“Money.”

His quiet laughter blends in with the sound of rushing waves.

“No hesitation at all, I see. Of course, I will pay you adequately for your invaluable help.”

“I also want something else.” You fiddle with the strands of (Y/N)’s hair. “I’d like a vacation. Just a week or two after everything settles down so I can go back to my hometown with my mom.”

“Is that what the money is for?”

“Yeah.” Your heart feels a little lighter. “You should visit the Coral Sea after your parents wake up as well. I’m sure you’ll want to spend time with them.”

A pause. You scrutinize Jade’s expression in the low light, but his expression is wholly unfamiliar to you. He almost looks . . . nervous.

“Would you come with us?”

You blink. “Don’t you want to spend time with just your family?”

“Yes, but my parents would be delighted to have you over again. You have not been to our home under the sea in a long time, and I would be more than happy to show you around again.”

“It won’t be a bother?”

“Far from it.” His thumb rubs softly against the back of your hand. “I . . . We are very fond of you.”

You can’t help but think there’s an ulterior motive, but you accept. This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve travelled to their home under the sea, and this most likely won’t be the last.

Suddenly, (Y/N) shifts on your chest. A soft noise escapes her lips as though she’s finally awakened from a long nap. Her bleary eyes find yours. Kind, lovely, and gentle eyes. The eyes of the (Y/N) you know and love, the eyes of your friend.

“Huh? Are we on the beach? What happened?”

A relieved laugh bubbles out of your throat and you hug her tightly. Confused but sweet, she reciprocates with reassuring pats to your arm.

“Yeah, we’re on the beach. Let’s get you home.” You sit up and smile as she fusses over the sand in your hair. Normalcy is slowly but surely returning. “I’ll tell you everything on the way there.”

[creativeimagination206]

A Goes Wrong Show Poll!

Recently, I showed both my parents and my best friend many/all of the Goes Wrong Show episodes (plus Christmas Carol and Peter Pan), and they all had sort of different responses to what they enjoyed about the show.

So, I decided I’d come to Tumblr and ask fandom opinion on why (if at all) you enjoy the show, and what generation you’re from!

Since amounts of options are limited and you can only put in one poll per post, if you could indicate which option you picked and what generation you’re from, that would be greatly appreciated!! I’m really just curious about what type of comedy hits with people.

Forgive me for the format of the poll, it’s prolly the most clunky way of doing it, but I really wasn’t sure how else to do it.

[saturnville]

Hi 👋🏾

So yesterday I was driving and I was listening to Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart by Alicia Keys & I immediately thought of your Candy Bling - Joe Rantz Fic. I feel like it fits the story so well. Not sure if you plan on adding more to it but with the way it ended, I’d be open to reading it. <3

inseparable | sleeping with a broken heart, joe rantz

pairing: joe rantz x black fem oc (cleotha jean). content: cleo and joe have a conversation. warning: angst. fluff. song: inseparable by mariah carey and try sleeping with a broken heart by alicia keys an: welllll long time, no see. hope y'all enjoyed tags: @neeville @turn-thy-paige @ihe4rtisa @ineedafictionalman @lovebyceleste @alliewassobonum

She had dreamed of this day for months, Where the invisible string between them would become shorter and shorter and their hearts would reunite as one. It was always a fairytale in her eyes; he’d come to her desparate and weeping for her forgiveness and they’d ride off into the sunset with dopey smiles on their faces, drunk off the love they had for one another. 

It was quite the opposite. They sat at opposite ends of her elongated dining room table, fiddling with the delicate wine glasses that held a dangerous amount of sweet red wine that she’d refilled twice more since his arrival. For them to be so uncomfortable in each other’s presence was so unlike them. It drove her mad. 

The silence was deafening and could cut the tension like a sharped-bladed knife. Cleotha wrapped her hand around the body of the glass and brought it to her lips, “What brought you here, Joe?” Her words were muffled from the glass, but he heard her loud and clear. 

Joe’s jaw clenched as he thought long and hard about his answer. Nothing that he said would matter regardless of how he tried to phrase it. Simply put, he was scared. But, he knew she wouldn’t hear that. They were so in love and he proposed to her. If he was scared, he would’ve broken it off sooner than later. But, it wasn’t that he was scared of commitment or being together with her forever, he doubted his ability to be the best life partner he could be. 

His parents’ relationship wasn’t successful; hell, they left him an orphan. There was no guidance on how to be a good man let alone a good partner and soon-to-be husband. So, as he explained to her, “I panicked.” 

Cleotha Jean was not easily amused, but his response drew a chuckle from her. Her tired eyes held no life. “Panicked? About what, Joe? I-I-I’m not understanding. We were together for almost 3 years and you panic weeks after our engagement, call off the wedding, then show up at my house months later just to say you panicked?” 

Joe inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. She was upset and rightfully so. But, the harshness of her words made him want to crawl into a hole and stay there. It was deeper than she thought. Yet, being the emotionally intelligent person she worked to be, Cleotha took note of how he retreated further into his seat and sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that. But, Joe, I just…panicked for what?” 

He panicked. She hurt. She’d lay in bed at night and pray that God would mend the heart she’d feel break like rock to a window. She’d writhe in pain, begging for him to return. He panicked while she suffered. 

“I got in my head, Cleo,” he said shortly. “You have both parents in your life and your father loves your mother more than words can describe. He’s a good man, a good father, and a good husband. I never had that example. I freaked out. I don’t have parents, I don’t have an example of what a good husband should be. The last thing I wanted to do was take this huge step and failing you as a husband. That kind of weight either makes or breaks a person…and it broke me. And I’m sorry for putting you through that.” 

Cleotha’s lips twisted as she fought the lump that formed in her throat. She sought for any form of dishonesty or lack of truth in his eyes, but all she saw was a plea for forgiveness. One more chance, he begged silently.

“It might take forever and a day for you to forgive me, but…I can’t do life without you, Cleo. I tried and I’ve been so miserable. Words can’t make up for anything, but I want to start over.” 

And the question became, would she agree? 

-

“A little to the left, baby,” she said, hands pressed against the small of her back as she waddled toward the middle of the nursery. He glanced upward at her after he made the adjustment to the position of the white crub. “Perfect. Thank you, baby.” 

Her husband stood to his feet and walked toward her with a smile on his face. He planted the softest kiss against her lips, hands around her swelling belly. “You’re welcome. Looking beautiful as ever.” His lips grazed the skin of her neck, making her eyes flutter closed. She giggled and pressed her hands against his chest. “Joe…” 

“I’ll never get enough of you, Cleo,” he drug out her name playfully and pecked her forehead. “Love you darling.” 

Cleotha smiled. Everything that she desired had fallen into place just as it should have and they were inseparable. And boldly, she repeated. “I love you too.”

[crimsonvictory]

Release

MINORS DNI

word count: 3.6k

tags: the mandalorian, the mandalorian smut, the mandalorian x reader, din djarin x reader

warnings: overstimulation, sub!din, dom!reader, touch-starved!din, p-in-v sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!din

notes: i love touch-starved!din. he just needs some release. 😩

I haven’t written anything in SO long please forgive me.

Updated it a little bit because I wasn’t happy with the first results.

prompt(s):

"Tell me what you like.”

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

————————————————————

Since boarding the Crest a little over a year ago, the increasing amount of frustration that was filling the air was concerning you. The tension was so crisp, you could cut it with a knife.

Being within close proximity with someone else gave you plenty of practice on reading unspoken body language. The Mandalorian thought he could hide how he was feeling from you, but you could pick up on his little tells. The way his modulator would pick up his change of breath, it could mean many things, agitation, a slight laugh at your jokes, or sometimes a sign that he was tired and needed a break. His shoulders held so much emotion too. He carried the galaxy on his shoulders and almost never seemed to relax, unless he was asleep.

You mourned the way he never allowed himself to rest. He slept only a couple hours at a time, always on alert, never fully comfortable.

A couple of weeks ago, you noticed that he was getting agitated over every little thing that happened within the ship. The hot water fluctuating (not your fault), the GPS being off by a few parsecs (most definitely not your fault) you (possibly your fault?).

It seemed lately that nearly every day he was almost always taking his anger out on you. Whether it be a snide comment on the work you were doing on the ship or stony silence. But either way, you were getting tired of it. This last dispute really crawling under your skin.

It had all started because you had ordered the wrong part for the GPS system (okay so it was your fault), causing it to overshoot by a few parsecs. It was an honest mistake, and you owned up to it right away. But he did not take your apology well.

It took you almost a better part of the day to explain it to him. You made your way up to the cockpit, hands sweaty on the metal rungs. You danced your way around the room, not able to sit still, the guilt just eating at you.

You went over and over in your head how you were going to tell him, but he beat you to the point.

“What did you do wrong?” he asks, not turning around to face you.

How did he know? Was he as good at reading body language as you?

You cleared you throat, beginning to explain what had happened. Your voice shook as you told him.

“You know better. You better pray to the Maker that we can make it to a shop that has a competent mechanic.” he seethed whipping around to look at you.

You glared at him, face heating up from embarrassment.

“It was an honest mistake, Mando.” you explained.

“You think you know everything but you don’t. You’re adequate at best. How hard is it to order a GPS component?!” he continued.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock, tears brimming your eyes. You were angry.

“I said it was a mistake! Why don’t you lay off of me? I’ll fix it when we get to the next planet, okay? I’m sorry.”

He stood up, walking over and getting down in your face. “I don’t need your help.” he bit out, huffing as he turned and stomped back over to the pilot’s chair.

He spun around quickly, huffing loudly and putting in the next coordinates. You stood there in shock, shaking from anger. Taking a deep breath, you composed your thoughts, trying your best not to be emotional about the situation.

He was still seething. You could feel the anger radiating off of him. The tension in the room so thick you could barely breathe. You took shallow breaths through your nose and out of your mouth, willing yourself to calm down.

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like that,” you stated, leaning against the co-pilots seat and crossing your arms.

He stayed facing away from you, stony and silent.

“Mando,” you pressed. “You can’t talk to me like that. I am human and I’m going to make mistakes. But at least I own up to them and offer to fix them-“

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes-“ he spits.

“If you don’t want mistakes then hire a kriffing droid,” you spit back, fire under your tongue.

He whirls around at that, chest heaving.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but you don’t need to take it out on me,” you tell him, glaring at his unwavering visor.

He sighs heavily, and you can already feel him putting up a wall again.

You roll your eyes. “You always do this! You always put up a wall when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to help, Mando. That’s what I’m here for. I’ve been here for nearly a year and I know nothing about you.”

“It’s best it stays that way,” he grunts out. “Like I said, I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance a bit. He leans back in his chair, watching you warily as you come closer.

“But what if I want to help?” you offer softly, completely flipping the situation.

You’re surprised at your words, not knowing where they came from. He freezes at your words, unable to speak. His shoulders tense, a fist forming by his side. You walk closer to him, slowly inching the space closed. His visor follows your movements, watching you closely.

“You need to relax,” you whisper, warily placing a hand on his pauldron.

You hear his breath catch and small smile tugs at your lips.

“Let me help, Mando.”

You watch him, he’s completely still, almost not even breathing, not used to another’s’ touch. After a terse moment, he slowly nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, modulator catching the hesitation in his voice.

You smile at his words, sliding your hand up to rest at his cowl. You’re slow with your moments, not wanting to spook him. You gently stroke the exposed skin at his nape, feeling goosebumps erupt at your touch.

His breath expels shakily through the modulator.

“Breathe,” you remind him. “If it‘s too much, let me know, okay?”

Mando nods again, relaxing a bit after a few deep breaths. You slowly slide your hands down his chest, taking mind of his armor. You gently caress his arms, working from his wrists up to his biceps and back down again, watching his body language for any signs of discomfort.

“This okay?” you question. He nods and clears his throat.

You can tell he wants to say something, but it’s catching in his throat. He eventually tells you after a silent moment.

“You can, uh, take the armor off if you want,” he murmurs.

The request takes you by surprise.

“Are you sure?” you ask, appalled that he would suggest even a thing.

He nods, confirming your questioning.

You go slowly, starting at his shoulder pauldrons and working your way down. His hands guide yours, helping you on the places that you struggle.

It’s the most careful he’s been with you. Your hands tremble with excitement and you feel your heart begin to race. Your cheeks warm, feeling so vulnerable in this small space.

You continue to unfasten the buckles, setting his armor down gently on the floor beside you. Working your way down to his breast plate, you glide your fingers under the beskar, lifting it up over his head. His vambrances come next, and finally the thigh and shin guards.

Your breath catches at the mere size of him. He was big without the armor. Just pure muscle, but still soft, especially the way he’s relaxing under your touch. He’s left in his thermals, and your imagination begins running wild. You’ve always imagined what he looked like.

You always thought of him having dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp, aquiline nose. You’ve never taken a peak, but sometimes you dream of him. You would never confess that. Not to anyone. You turn your focus back to the man in front of you. He seems to shy away from your eyes, turning his head away from you.

You guess that he’s blushing under his helmet. If only you could see him. You just know he’s beautiful. You make a soft noise, appreciating the opportunity unfolding before you. You wrap your fingers around his bicep, squeezing gently.

“Tell me what you like,” you coo.

His visor snaps back to you and he lets out a choked noise. You’ve taken him by surprise.

“I-I-,” he stutters as you trail your fingers down his arm, removing his gloves and placing them down next to his armor.

You finally get a glance at his skin. He’s sun-kissed, nearly golden under all of that armor. You wonder if he ever misses the feeling of sun on his skin. You lace your fingers together, gently squeezing his against your own.

He hums his approval, it crackles through the vocoder.

“Mando.” you say, catching his attention. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I- uh,” he clears his throat again. “I’ve never really-“, he mumbles, looking away again.

Your mind reels at his confession. The Mandalorian, a virgin? It couldn’t be.

“Never?” you question softly, no judgement in your voice.

He answers with another shake of his head.

“This is the Way.”

You hum, considering your options. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you want to make him feel good. Sliding your hand down to his thigh and squeezing gently.

“Would you let me take care of you?” you ask again. He looks up at you from the pilots seat, in a daze, and takes. a moment before nodding again.

“Use your words, Mando.”

“Y-Yes,” he finally gets out.

You give his thigh another squeeze before straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel how hard he’s becoming underneath you, and it makes your stomach flutter.

Reaching up and placing your hand on the exposed part of his neck, you tilt it to the side, giving you access to the skin closest to you. His breathing quickens, nervousness- and you stroke the side of his neck gently before leaning down and placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. There’s a hint of scruff and you slip your fingers up near his jaw to memorize his face. You’re careful not to move his helmet too much, keeping the Creed in mind. He hums his appreciation at your courtesy.

Hints of mahogany and black vanilla filled your space and you dart your tongue out, tasting his skin. He keens, tilting his head back against the headrest, giving you as much space as he could. His cock twitches against you, and you hum, feeling his arousal grow.

You mouth along his neck, dipping down a few times to kiss his collarbones. Goosebumps follow your kisses, and you can feel the intimacy buzzing under his skin. His energy is electrifying.

Mando shifts his weight underneath you, hips bumping up against your own and it catches you by surprise. You grab onto his arm, steadying yourself.

“Sorry-“ he apologizes as quickly as possible.

“No need to apologize,” you murmur against his skin, dropping your weight down and grinding once, twice, against him.

A moan crackles through his helmet.

Oh.

You wish you could hear him unfiltered. His voice would sound like molten honey. You watch his chest rise and fall, a blush peaking just above his collar.

“Doing okay?” you whisper, checking to make sure your boundaries aren’t overstepped.

He nods, trying to meet the downward grind of your hips. His hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place. You gladly let him use you.

You feel yourself getting aroused, a warm feeling building in your stomach. The way his length is rubbing against your clit feels otherworldly. You bite your lip to keep quiet. He strokes your hip with his thumb, visor watching you. A warmth spreads over your cheeks, the roles reversed.

You take control again, slowing your movements and wrapping your fingers around his neck, pulling him close as you grind against his lap. You watch as he slowly starts to come apart, the pleasure becoming too much. Your kids grow heavy and you watch his chest rise and fall, little gasps falling from his mouth. He sounds fucking angelic.

You wish you could listen to them on repeat. He’s trying his best to keep his hands at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s fighting to relax but slowly giving in when the pleasure builds up and up and up.

“You can touch me, y’know,” you pant, watching his visor. “You’re not going to hurt me. It’s not a bad thing to give in to your pleasure,” you remind.

He’s hesitant, you can practically see the battle in his mind. He slips his hand around your hip, stroking circles into your skin. You hum, praising him.

You begin to slow down your movements, taking the time to gather the strength to climb off of him and position yourself in between his legs. He spreads them wide, placing one foot up on the edge of the seat before tilting his helmet down and looking at you.

Maker- the angle of him above you, chest flushed with arousal- makes you squirm. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, anxious of your next move. His arm is resting on his knee, fingers splayed, relaxed. He looks like a fucking god. You imagine his lids heavy, mouth parted open as he breathes. You nearly come apart at the sight.

“Like the view?” he jokes, and you nod, unable to congregate a sentence. His voice has dropped an octave. You could fucking die happy right here.

You get to work, unbuckling his belt, then having him shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

The outline of his cock is straining against the material. You almost drool, looking up at him through your lashes, you ask, “May I?”

He nods, motioning with his hand to go ahead. You lean forward, placing both hands on his upper thighs and lean down to mouth at his length.

Oh.

He’s fucking huge.

You place soft kisses against the fabric before licking a stripe up to the tip. He whines, hips bucking upwards.

“Please-“ he whines. “Don’t tease.”

His hand grips the side of the pilots chair, fingers wrapping around it tightly, restraining himself.

You bring one hand closer, slipping your hand inside and wrapping your fingers around his length. He’s soft, like velvet - and he twitches in your hand. You bring out his cock through his boxers, adoring the sight of him.

“Maker-“ you whisper in shock. You give him a test stroke, curling your fingers over the tip before sliding them back down to the base. “You’re fucking huge.”

A gasp leaves his lips and he tenses up at your touch. You repeat the pattern, watching his resolve come undone under your finger tips.

He slumps back in the pilots chair, hips bucking upwards to meet your strokes. He’s covered your fingers in precome, easing the way your strokes go up and down.

You tighten your grip on his cock, slowing your strokes down and leaning over to place your lips around his tip.

“Oh, fuck-“ he curses, hips stuttering.

You hum, slowly taking him into your mouth while stroking what you can’t fit at the moment. You suck, swirling your tongue around his tip and bobbing your head up and down his length. You nearly gag due to his size. You cannot believe the situation right now. Maker, you are in heaven.

A heavy hand threads its fingers through your hair, tugging as you absolutely devour him. You can’t get enough. He tastes so fucking good. You lean into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

Your eyes roll in your head as you take him deeper. The sheer size of him makes you so fucking wet. A moan slips from your mouth and you look up at him from your eyelashes.

The sight above you was painted by the Maker himself. You wished so badly again that you could see his face. You imagine his brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth pouting open in the prettiest of ways. You know his lips were angry and pink from his teeth biting into them. He was trying so hard to be quiet and was failing miserably.

You wanted him to let go, relax and enjoy this feeling. Because you didn’t know how long it would be until he needed this again. He wasn’t a man to ask for help. But when he did, you were more than happy to deliver.

The quiet gasps filtering their way through the modulator was music to your ears. He sounded so fucking desperate.

You stroke him a couple more times, coming off of his length with a pop. He groans, mourning the loss of your mouth. You make your way up to his lap again, pulling your underwear to the side and straddling his waist again.

You tilt his chin up, making him make eye contact with you.

“Mando, do you want me to stop?”

He grabs onto your arm, squeezing tightly.

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

You moan at his words, an ultimate confession of wanted pleasure. You both were shaking with anticipation, getting used to each other's bodies. Lining yourself up, you take his hand and guide it down to your pussy.

“Do you feel that? You did that, Mando,” you coo, feeling his thick fingers glide through your folds.

He groans, bringing his fingers up and underneath his helmet, like a man dying of thirst.

“Fuck, you taste fucking good.” he moans, returning his fingers to your folds for another taste.

You keen at his praise, holding on to his shoulder as he dips his fingers back again and again. He’s hooked on your taste and cannot get enough.

Mando wraps his fingers around your hips, guiding you over to his cock. His other hand cuffs around your neck as he pulls you close, voicing another confession.

“Please, fucking wreck me.”

He trembling at this point and you cannot deny him any longer. You guide the tip of his length to your entrance and slowly guide yourself down. It takes a while, as you’re not used to his length. By the time you bottom out, you’re both shaking with exertion.

“Holy fuck-“ you choke out, appalled by the sheer size of him.

“If you don’t fucking move right now-“ he gasps, trembling with pleasure.

You obey, slowly move back up before guiding yourself back down. You feel so full, not knowing if you can take all of him. It’s overwhelming, but in such a good way. You clench around his length, grabbing his attention.

“O-Oh my god-“ he gasps, squeezing your hip. “Again,” he praises.

You oblige, loving the pleasure it gives you both. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin and your thighs start to tremble. It’s fucking worth it.

You know he’s not going to last long, you can tell from his breathing. You’re not either, by doing all of the work. But you’re so blissed out on pleasure you don’t even care. He fills you up in just the right way, the tip catching at the deepest part of your cervix and creating a delicious burn in your stomach.

He grabs onto your shoulder, leaving one hand on your hip as he takes control for a moment, speeding his thrusts up to meet yours. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the cockpit, tension resolved and disappearing.

All that lingers now is the smell of sex and arousal. Warmth from both of your bodies filling the air. It’s comfortable and you don’t want to leave.

“Fuck- Mando, you’re doing such a good job,” you gasp out between thrusts. “Look how well I’m taking you.”

He moans at your praise, hips stuttering. His visor tilts down, watching where your bodies separate and then meet again. His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp.

“If you keep talking like that I’m not going to last-“ he warns.

“Good,” you laugh, high off of pleasure. “I want you to let go, come for me.”

“Oh Maker,” he chokes out, thrusting, once, twice, thrice before seizing up, pleasure overcoming his body.

You watch as his body tenses and then slump as the pleasure slowly makes its way through his body. He’s breathing heavily, gently rubbing circles on your hip. He laughs, a musical thing. You wish you could have this moment on repeat.

Your pleasure is still building, burning it your stomach. He glides his hands down to your clit, thumb brushing along your little bundle of nerves. He’s unexperienced, but a quick learner. You show him how to build your pleasure and he repeats your motions, making it burn in your belly.

You slump forward on him, grabbing his bicep for support. His fingers are slow and calulating, but adding the perfect amount of pressure that has you seeing stars.

He does something unexpected, wrapping his fingers around your throat and giving a soft squeeze. You clench around him, body going taught as you reach your orgasm. He coaxes your body through it, guiding you up, up up, and carrying you gently back down.

The pleasure is so intense you start to cry. It’s been so long since you’ve had any intimacy and you cannot handle it. He strokes circles onto your side as you calm down.

“Thank you,” you both say at the same time, causing a chuckle from you both.

“Don’t wait so long to ask me for help next time,” you joke, leaning against his chest and giving him a hug.

“I won’t,” he says.

You believe him.

[demigod-jack-hearth]

This is to address a situation where I had carelessly modified my Circe blog @the-goddess-circe to fit my alternate universe. This caused many people to get hurt and I am addressing it.

When I created the Circe Blog on August 8, it was with the intention for Jack to get possessed by Circe, a character I was interested in because as a character Circe is really complex and fascinating, I am not excusing her actions OR morals. She had not much canon lore to work with and I was excited at the opportunity to be able to experiment and work with Circe.

During one of Jack’s possession scenes ( https://www.tumblr.com/demigod-jack-hearth/758229800393523200/open-starter )

I thought it was a good idea to make a complete alternate universe for Circe, which is how I modified her intro to the alternate universe that Odysseus has raped Circe and sexually assaulted her. I did not think of the consequences of my actions and how I was not handling this situation OR topic with the care or respect it deserved.

This is the role play thread that started this alternate universe- https://www.tumblr.com/camp-sky-heaven-on-earth/758618332716056576/i-know-it-hasnt-been-long-since-i-asked-you-to?source=share

I did not consider how this was dehumanising and triggering the trauma other others and this was not my intention in the slightest.

For this overlook and negligence on my part,

I’m am wholeheartedly sorry to everyone, those affected by my actions and my audience who have seen it.

I realise now that I have people that watch me, people that reads the things I put out and they are very real. Their feelings are real. Their experiences are real and their stories and trauma are real. This is a grave mistake on my part, and I now understand that what I say and do have an effect on others.

I did not take the correct amount of time to think this through and do my proper research on the canon lore.

This section is to address my first anon message back on August 13 about my Circe au:

Link to the post-https://www.tumblr.com/demigod-jack-hearth/758706460356149249/its-kind-of-disheartening-to-see-you-re-writing?source=share and https://www.tumblr.com/demigod-jack-hearth/758707116707119104/if-you-realise-it-was-a-mistake-it-might-be-a?source=share

When I first received this anon message, I dismissed it as something I didn’t need to worry too much about and because of my WRONG mindset that I do not share as of now, I made a very throw away and poorly worded response.

I spoke to some people I am now not in contact with and they had encouraged me to not think too much about it and reinforced my belief that I had free reign to make alternate universes without discretion. I was also unhappy with a separate issue that caused me to have a lot of pent up anger and frustration, this does not excuse the way I replied the anon.

These conversations with people who enabled my wrong view on the situation sparked me to make my response hurtful, bitter and unnecessary.

I regret making that comment and I am sorry to the anonymous message who got hurt by my remarks.

I understand that Odysseus and Circe are very important characters whose stories should not be modified so carelessly.

Now onto the important part: What I will do to amend this situation.

I am not asking for anyone to forget or forgive this situation, but I hope to at least make some amends.

First off I will be deleting Circe’s Blog and will not be reworking it until I can get an acceptable version in the works.

Second of all this is a repetition but I apologise to everyone affected and reached by this situation. I am willing to make personal apologies at your request.

Finally, this will not happen again. I have grown and understood the situation to the best of my ability and will do everything in my power (running it past people before I post things and checking the facts) to make sure this does NOT happen again.

I'm going to tag everyone because I don't know who has been affected by my actions

@ja50nt0ddwa5h3r3 @unhinged-waterlilly @zariahthewitch @thegroovydaughterofhestia @beauty-queen-official @that-girl-cupid @ariathemortal @emdabitchass @if-chaos-was-a-boy @the-gods-strange-children @silena-daughterofaphrodite @love-lightning-forethought @fabulousdaughterofhecate @weakest-son-of-sun @chaos-pers0nified @neoptolemus-achilles-son @kaiaalwayswins @bast-the-best26 @goddess-of-bubblegum @hispanic-daughter-of-hermes @gaygirldoodles @luck-is-crucial @pink-koi-lovejoy @smileyalater @the-bosses-of-you @the-goddess-aphrod1te @cloak-of-ares @heraaaaaaaa @unproblematic-hestia @theycallmejeezycreezy @queenofthedeep @giant-prophetic-snake @reyna4ever @vicious-daughter-of-zeus @itsyourboyezra @the-smart-and-the-dumb-one @feral-hermes-child @oopsies-i-did-a-thing @creature-under-ur-bed @unfortunate-daughter-of-hestia

Thanks to my friend who helped me so much with editing this and helping me make it sense

[ofallthingsnasty]

henlooo!! i read ur post abt manipulator kaiser and oliver. (i’m already 20 btw) what would be their reaction if their foreign!s/o tries to escape from them and go home to their country? would they hunt them down or would they just let them go?

hello hello haha 🤗 tbh I've only thought about Kaiser with a foreign darling so far because that really tickles me - but Oliver as well? Interesting thought 👀

word count: 1k goes with this thirst post here

tags: yandere, emotional manipulation

I think neither one is the 'hunting down' type (Shidou or even Barou, however...) - but Kaiser, in my opinion, will not hesitate to utilize his fame. Soccer is really popular here in Germany and I know a fair share of players and their partners even though I am absolutely not invested in the Bundesliga and the likes. You leaving and in such an abrupt way? Basically overnight? That's going to be all over the yellow press, no doubt. He is one of Germany's best players and he won't have to lift a finger to get all eyes on your 'break-up' (Of course they don't know that you basically fled, don’t know what he’s really like behind the scenes-). The media circus will be a lot for you. You'll definitely have to go private or even delete all your socials because of the sheer amount of hate you will get (if he let you run your own, of course. He might just be the type to insist on him curating those for you, never mind the fact that you could be located through those). Your face is all you see the moment you open any European news site, aside from the more serious ones. The media will most likely smear you - and maybe even turn on you fully once Kaiser drops a few calculated words. Everyone will speculate why you left like you did, will try to analyze yours and Kaiser’s relationship until they’ve found a plausible reason. You’re better off ditching the internet or the media all together for a little while. As for Kaiser, would he ask you for forgiveness, knock on your door one night or just straight up snatch you up? Oh, no. He's too proud for that, even though he is positively seething. He's angry, first and foremost, angry that you could be so ungrateful, that you would just leave him, a goddamn superstar. You were supposed to worship him like the rest of them, not run for the hills the moment he got a little too comfortable. But I can actually see Ness sniffing your location out and paying you a tearful visit, harping on your feelings, telling you how much of a mess Kaiser is without you, how he can be so difficult but, really, he only acted the way he did because he loves you- He’ll put on his sweetest face, the biggest teary eyes. When you don't fall for it, he will turn downright nasty and berate you for it, threaten you. Don't you know what level of influence Kaiser has, how much money he has to waste? You think some measly borders will stop that? He can turn your life into hell even from a continent away, you'll see. Ness will play the errand boy for Kaiser happily - and he'll mean every word he'll say. Disloyalty towards Kaiser is just something he won’t stand. I think he'd leave you to mull over it - waiting to see if you can be scared into crawling back. But if you still don’t come back, Kaiser will make Ness’ threats come true until you do, paranoid and destitute. He can absolutely pull some strings - and he will.

Oliver doesn't have the same tools available to him - not that he isn't famous, just not as much as Kaiser - your break-up will probably be picked up by some tabloids and fans online but it won't make the waves it does with Kaiser. But forcing you back with his influence is not his style, anyways. No, Oliver will make you take him back. Willingly. I think he'd grin and bear the ‘break-up’, on the outside. He won't lose his cool over this, even though it's bothering him a lot. He'll throw himself into his work, his team, keeps that laissez-fair attitude as if his life depends on it. I don't see him as the type to come up with an intricate plan to get you back but he'll let you cool off a little and bets on your poor, little brain smoothing things over for him in retrospect. He won't pick up anyone during this time to get back at you or to make you jealous - he'll be on his best behavior, won't be mentioning the 'break-up' anywhere, won't utter a word of contempt into your direction, won't even go out to party that much. For his standards, he's turning into somewhat of a golden boy - but it really is just a ploy. To make you see how much you've changed him. To make you see how heart-broken he is. Due to his charade, you’ll probably think yourself safe - until he turns up at your door one day, with the biggest apologetic smile on his face. It’s so jarring, it actually stuns you into silence. He’ll show you just how much of a talker he can be - for hours and hours he’ll lay it on thick, won’t spare a single, oh-so-sad detail. And it’s so easy to let yourself fall for his charms again - it wasn’t all that bad, right? You’ve loved him, still kind of do - the old wounds have scarred over, the pain long gone. And with the way he eyes you, still tired from his travels, like some kicked puppy, his attention solely focused on you... You can feel a familiar tug at your heart again and before you know it, you find yourself doubting your past self. Maybe you just overreacted at times? Maybe you could have poured yourself more into the relationship, could have given him more - shown him just how much you loved him. It’s an ugly feeling of doubt, of uncertainty, of longing. Before you know it, you’ll see the relationship through a different lense and him in a much softer light - how lucky you are, then, that he is here to stay for a little while, just until you can sort your feelings out. And this time, he’s serious - and willing to show you with a shiny ring on your finger.

[satoruzlove]

hello again! first and foremost, thank you for doing my request 100000x more than what i imagined 🙇🏻‍♀️🫶 AND HERE I AM AGAIN lol i can't help but to imagine many scenarios with Haikyuu boys (courtesy of TikTok)

can i possibly request a scenario of atsumu (and whoever haikyuu boy you could imagine that certainly loves socializing) based on the tiktok trend where the boys are having a night out and they give their s/o food/money/or just something that makes their girl happy just to get their permission & telling them not to call/text/bother/find him for the whole night.

for better reference; https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8jbW2rg/

- 🫧

my beloved bubble anon, FORGIVE ME FOR TAKING A GAJILLION YEARS WITH THIS. i was trying so hard to imagine writing it the right way around but i couldn’t stop myself from doing it the other way around!!!😭😭 i hope you don’t mind .

DONT TEXT ME, DONT CALL ME .

[ atsumu miya , rintarou suna ]

- one [1] ass slap in tsumu’s,touchiness, atsumu healing my daddy issues one ‘sweetheart’ at a time, rintaro almost strips, ALMOST. very soft angst , rin with an attitude lol-

a. miya !

tonight is your little reunion between your highschool friendgroup. fun, right?

no.

well, when you get there it will be but before you do wont. the reason for this is that your man child boyfriend has a habit of following you everywhere- it was actually the only reason he wanted to know everyone you spend time with. so he can always tag along and be with you 24/7, 365. you love him for it and it’s very endearing how he craves your presence but you couldn’t help but want a little alone time with some people that you’ve made memories with.

your group has been planning this about a month in advance, which gave you a month to decide how you wanted to go about keeping tsumu away. you thought about asking his friends to take him out, sending him to run errands but they all made you feel like you were committing a crime and trying to make sure atsumu stays in the dark about it.

discouraged, you had sat down to wallow in your own stupidity and opened your phone. scrolling through tiktok, you had found a solution to all your problems. a little video , no longer than 20 seconds, was gonna secure your fun night out with friends. said video showed a guy giving his girlfriend food in exchange for her not to call, text, email or even think about him. you reckoned that it would work on your blond lover too.

now you practically skip down the stairs barely able to see your feet because of the sheer amount of food in your hands. you even asked samu to make atsumu’s favorite rice balls and picked them up on your way back from work- safely hiding them in your bag. atsumu finally comes into sight when you reach the kitchen. he’s leaned up against the counter, hair messy and his honey eyes focused on the screen of his phone. he only looks up when you nearly trip- and his eyes widen.

“babe, what the hell-?” he tries, but you simply saunter over to the counter and look him dead in his eyes. first, you put everything down infront of you. “i’m going out with my high school friends and- before you ask i still love you- but i wanna go alone,so” atsumu’s eyes shoot up at the uncharacteristic seriousness in your voice, but he allows you to continue. you put down a bag of mcdonald’s, his favorite order with an extra large fry just how he likes, “ do not text me,” you take a bag of kfc , mainly wings that are extra hot because you know he loves to wash it down with coke,” do not call me,” as you put things down, you can see atsumu’s eyebrows drop and a pout grow on his pretty pink lips. finally you present the rice balls that samu made, and a coke, “ don’t email me, or smoke signal me, or anything. okay?” you finally finish, look up at him hopefully.

his lip is jutted out as he glances down at the items you used to bribe him and back to yours. you nearly start tapping your foot impatiently. atsumu leans down so for once, you two are eye to eye level. “ are ya sure you still love me?” he asks you softly. you think for a moment that he’s kidding, but the pause and loud swallow you hear give him away.immediately, you realise that you’ve screwed up. before you can answer, your boyfriend speaks again. “if you didn’t want me to come you could’a asked me to just.. stay here. i would have. ya didn’t have to go and spend all that time bribing me like i’m a mafia boss or somethin’” atsumu sighs, obviously disheartened and now walking away from you. you go to hold his bicep to stop him, but he easily moves out the way without making it look obvious.

you’re feeling really bad now, the dull look in his eyes eating into your tummy. “ i do still love you, tsum, don’t be dumb. i just,” you paused when he looks at you with a raised brow. he looks like he really couldn’t care less about your excuses right now. “i actually don’t have an excuse, i’m just being dumb,” your voice was small, timid from hoping that your boyfriend isn’t too upset. the last thing on your mind is the buzzing phone in your pocket but it’s the first in atsumu’s.

he turns again, getting a glass of water. “ answer it, go. have fun. just text me if you get drunk off your ass and i’ll come get ya, if ya aren’t sleeping at one of your friends’ places.” atsumu instructed you. you bite your lip in thought.quietly , you go up behind him. he pretends to not notice your presence, the warmth of your skin hovering over his clothed back. his eyes stay trained on his very important glass of water. your arms wrap around him gently at first but when you feel no protest, you get comfortable. he tuts, tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth. “ you’re gonna be late, yn. go.” and you nearly cry at him using your first name- but you soon realise that if he did what you had done, you’d be doing a lot worse than calling him a first name.

you inhale. deep, calming, hopeful. “ i’m not going,” you mumbled into his covered flesh. he fights a smile, affection creeping onto his skin. “ why? you seemed pretty interested in it a minute ago? i reckon you should go have fun with your little friends. god knows why ya wanna be here, with me, who you wanted to avoid all night.” as he talks, his tone is more playful , more pouty. you rub a thumb over his tummy, speaking into his back and causing vibrations that seem to warm his soul. “because i realise that i like you more than them and i screwed up,” you say. he nods curtly, eyes shiny with unshed tears that are now going away. “ good. i’m glad you know that.” he says.

your newly free arms are folded as you do your classic awkward smile- waiting for his verdict. “go change. we’re watching mulan.” atsumu tells you. before you walk away, you go closer to him.

“i’m sorry,” you say, tenderly putting a hand on his shoulder. “ i should’ve just asked you like a normal person. i wont do that again, promise.” you know you’re in the clear, his eyes soft and his own hands running up from your hips to your cheeks to hold them. he plants a kiss on your lips, affectionately holding your face until your cheeks squish slightly. “it was funny , kinda,” he mumbles. you huff air out your nose, shaking your head. “barely. i almost made you cry,” you reply. he shrugs. “‘s okay, sweetheart. i forgive ya. i wont crucify my baby just ‘cause ya don’t know how to communicate.” and you laugh at that. he releases your gorgeous face, placing a little slap on your ass. “ go on, get comfy. you got a whooole night of apology cuddles ta give me, lover.”

r. suna !

suna rintaro is apathetic, painfully apathetic.

everyone knows. it’s his resting bitch face, the monotone voice and hooded eyes that make people think that he doesn’t care. for others, it’s true, he doesn’t. when it comes to a news anchor or someone interviewing him he wouldn’t give them any time of his day if he wasn’t forced. he isnt the type to talk without purpose- and until you that purpose was only to tease people, communicate, or pass a sarcastic comment every once and a while.

but to you? suna rintaro was not himself , or what people have ideally plastered together of him in their heads. suna rintaro became rinnie, or rin. the rin who would hold your hands in his when it was cold or rub his cheek against you for fun, rin that kissed your nose and kissed your shoulders after you showered. rin who would lip sync any song he heard in the car to you.

rintarou became a completely different person around you; his walls of steel melting to a puddle and letting you pass. his heart became only for you. something that also changed was how tolerant he became to being around someone, that someone being you. he found himself wanting to be around you always, opting to come with you everywhere and always touching you in some way. no matter how much you writhed or attempted to sway his clinginess it never seemed to ebb away.

that is how you were put into this situation. standing across from him as he lain on your bed- all his favorite food, a new hoodie , and a $100 bill on top of it. he stared at you in absolute disbelief. “ .. so the reason i got you this is because i wanna go to the spa, and no. you cannot come.” you explain to him, tone firm but your heart nearly falling into your ass when he sat up with a bored look on his face. “ are you like,” he starts, picking up the gifts like they were toxic waste- only with two fingers, “ bribing me right now?” he asked. you pondered for a moment, “ basically. i am , yeah.” you reply. he looks up at you, green irises boring into yours as he tries to telepathically say that you’re kidding.

he sighs when he realises that you arent. he gets up, his t shirt draping down his large figure as he collects all the stuff and places it in your arms. “ don’t want it, and let me go shower,” he mumbles, walking past you. you drop the items back onto your shared bed, following him like a lost puppy. the sound of water wafts to your ears as you reach the bathroom, rin now shirtless in front of you. you look at him, confused.

“ showering.. for?” you ponder out loud. he blows air from his nose, pulling his sweat pants down and adjusting the water. your boyfriend, only in boxers, turns to you. “ so we can go to the spa, you silly thing.” he teases , hand coming up to pinch your cheek lovingly. you scoff. “ i just said that you can’t come, rintaro.” and he hisses in faux pain.“full first name? ouch.” your boyfriend jests. before he can hop into the shower, his hands hook around his boxers and-

“rintaro.” you call him sternly and he laughs wholeheartedly. running a hand through his brown hair he’s now inches away from you. “you did say that i can’t come, but you’re wrong. i’m literally getting ready to right now,” he says casually. you poke at his built chest, eyes flitting up beautifully to meet his own. “rintaro i said no, just stay here, you don’t even like the spa,” you were whining now, and his heart squeezed ever so slightly at your childish tone.

“true, i don’ like the spa, but i like you.” he smiles , hands rubbing your shoulders. he places a kiss on your nose, directing you towards the bathroom door. “so, before i get naked infront of you and we both end up staying here, go away.” and before you could protest - he was gone.

[untaemedqueen]

At Your Service

Escort!Jeongguk x CEO!Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 12.

Series Warnings (Will Be Updated): Angst, Fluff, Cold Heartedness, Emotional Trauma, Healing, Smut, Dark Humor

Warnings For This Chapter: Soft Dom!Jeongguk, Spanking, Riding, Praise, Unprotected Sex, Daddy Kink

A/N: My mouse batteries are slowly dying and I don’t have extra so this chapter is a rush job to publish. I’ll do a tag list next time probably.

Now seated at the table, Jeongguk squeezes your hand as if to let you know you don't need to be nervous.

The air since his two best friends arrived has been thick and hazy, emotions of distrust and awkwardness swimming through the atmosphere. It seems like it's a tangible thing, if you're being honest. Like the distrust from these two is going to wrap around your neck and choke you out.

It doesn't help that their eyes are hazed over with discomfort either.

They're protective.

You know this to be true but they're not putting a foot forward and you being who you are, you're immediately recoiling within yourself and trying to stack a huge wall up just in case one of them tries and offends you.

You've become soft with the escort by your side in such a short amount of time that your brain and heart are trying to make up for the damage.

Guk, who's been looking between both parties, is watching you fight the inner turmoil within yourself now. He's worked so hard to break down your walls and he won't forgive his friends if he has to start all over again.

Taehyung looks you over once more, something he's been doing since he stepped foot in this apartment.

"Dinner's almost ready," Guk announces, trying to start some flow of conversation.

Maybe Jimin's been waiting for someone to speak first but now he sits up straighter, bringing his glass of wine away from his lips.

"Has Gukkie cooked for you before, Y/N? Everything he makes is delicious!" Jimin raves, nudging the youngest's shoulder.

"No, I haven't but he did tell me that he learned to cook from his dad who worked in restaurants so I'm excited to try it," you reveal, adoring the way your boyfriend squeezes your knee affectionately.

Taehyung, who seems to be the most suspicious of you, raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh," he drolls, swirling his wine in his glass, "I'm surprised he told you something like that. His ex-girlfriend Chloe didn't even know that. You do know about her, don't you?"

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, not appreciating the tone his best friend is aiming your way.

"I do," you reply just as equally unamused, "I've even met her. She's… sad."

Jimin snorts into his glass of wine, chuckling at how completely devoid of emotion your voice sounds. "When did that happen?"

"I took Y/N with me to my grandmother's luncheon. She liked her a lot, accepted her faster than Chloe, which is only right because they're so completely different," Guk announces, standing up to check the oven.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look that you can only deem as surprise and they seem to be having an unspoken conversation with just looks.

You understand being protective of your boyfriend. Hell, you're protective of him too. So even though the wall is still building back up within you, you accept his two friends' caution.

"How'd you get into the wine business?" Taehyung asks, his voice a tad less judgy then previous statements.

"I don't know if Y/N wants to tell that stor-" you boyfriend begins, opening the oven.

"It's okay," you promise, cutting him off.

He looks over at you with soft eyes, trying to read your body language and expression but he finds no fierceness within you at the moment.

"I too had a significant other that was really terrible and toxic for me. When that went to shit I decided to build up an empire for myself so that my name would always be out there. I made a name for myself so he wouldn't forget. Wine just happened to be the thing I had the most knowledge in," you tell his two friends, pouring yourself another glass of the deep red alcohol.

Jimin hums in agreement, nodding thoughtfully at your words.

To be honest, when these two men met Chloe, they were immediately turned off. She carried herself in such a way that it was embarrassing to watch. She was spoiled and whiny, completely the opposite from their youngest friend.

You're completely the opposite. Even though you have a rough disposition to you, the friends are already warming up to you.

If Jeongguk is serious about you you're not going anywhere anytime soon and they're going to have to get used to this.

"Guk's been getting bottles of wine from your company for months now, maybe it was destiny," Jimin suggests with a smile.

Taehyung beside him only chooses to stare down into his glass of wine. He only looks up when he's decided on what to say. "We're very protective of him. He was hurt badly by Chloe, almost as if he was losing himself every step of the way. We just don't want to see that again."

You nod understandingly, looking over at your boyfriend who's lost himself into the role of being the host for the evening.

"I would never want to see him hurt," you reply, watching how he takes the lid off the pot carefully, "I care about him more than I care about myself."

The escorts two best friends share a look with one another and Taehyung continues to nod thoughtfully until your boyfriend speaks up.

"Okay! Dinner's ready!" he beams, passing you a new bottle of wine.

He kisses the top of your head sweetly, setting down the hot pot on the table.

When Guk looks over at his best friends while you're consumed with opening the bottle, he simply tilts his head as if to ask if they'll accept you.

Jimin gives him a cheerful wink while Taehyung begrudgingly nods.

"Good," Jeongguk hisses happily, hearing the cork pop forcefully from the bottle.

With a groan, the escort crawls into his bed beside you.

"It's a nice room," you breathe, looking around at the multitude of framed small artworks.

When Hawking jumps up onto the bed, forcing Guk closer to you with how massive he is, your boyfriend only rolls his eyes playfully.

"Thanks, buddy," he breathes, looking behind him with a wistful scowl.

"What'd you think today?" the escort inquires, drifting his lips over your shoulder.

Turning to him, you lay your head on your hand. His arm curls around your waist like needy vines and his chocolate irises bore deeply into yours. The moonlight that streaks through his windows is hazy and bright highlighting all of his perfect features for your eyes to feast on.

"I expected them to be cautious of me," you reply, allowing him to get closer.

Guk runs his finger from your waist to your hip, lifting up the short nightgown you have on.

"They warmed up. They know you aren't going anywhere," he promises, letting his fingers dig sweetly into the globes of your backside.

When you hiss softly and move closer, your boyfriend groans wantonly.

"You don't know what you do to me," he whispers, rearing his hand back to spank your backside.

You writhe beneath his touch, mewling when he immediately soothes your stinging skin.

When he goes to climb over you, Hawking won't budge for a second, already comfortable with the place that he's deemed his own for the night.

The escort rolls his eyes, trying once more before huffing out impatiently.

"I swear this dog sometimes…" he mumbles, lifting your leg over his own and showing you his simple strength by tugging you close.

You can feel how hard he is as it rests against your inner thigh. His cock is throbbing for relief and you can only bite your lower lip with anticipation.

"Tell daddy what you want," Guk hisses, pulling your lip from between your teeth with his thumb.

"You, I want you," you gasp, pressing your breasts to his chest.

"Mmm," he hums, entering his thumb into your mouth slowly.

You swirl your tongue around the digit, feeling your liquid arousal gushing out of you at the loud groan he admits from your actions.

"Fuck, look at you," your boyfriend hisses, watching how your cheeks hollow around his thumb.

When he goes to pull his hand away from your mouth, you gently bite down on him playfully.

His bottom lip purchases between his teeth and he whines softly at the sting. "Be a good girl, baby."

You let him go begrudgingly, giving him a gentle smile as he narrows his eyes at you.

"You're really asking for it tonight," he mumbles, entering you with one hard thrust.

You gasp loudly, grabbing onto his muscled arms.

"Fuck," he seethes through his teeth, dipping his head down to kiss at your breasts, "you're so damn tight."

His lips pluck sweetly at your nipple, starting a smooth, relentless pace with his thrusts.

Your mind muddles with each snap of his hips and you can barely think or string a single thought together.

You can only focus on how his smooth, thick cock fucks deeply into you, gently tapping the mushroom head to your soft cervix folds with ever thrust.

"O-Oh my God," you cry out, squeezing your eyes shut.

"That's it, baby," Jeongguk whispers breathlessly, pulling away enough to pinch and roll your nipples between his fingertips, "I love to see you so fucked out for me. I love how dumb you get on my cock."

You can only babble in response, pushing your hips down to meet his.

"You're so fucking wet, my God!" your boyfriend groans loudly, flipping you over to ride him.

Hawking lifts his head and huffs out gruffly before hopping off the bed with a yawn.

The escort spreads your knees wider, pushing the comforter off the both of you to see you in your entirety above him. His hands grip at the soft, fleshy globes of your ass roughly and you begin to ride him with as much fervor as you can muster.

"Oh fuck! Good girl!" Guk praises loudly, letting his head loll back at the pleasure.

You can only whimper, adoring how the head of his cock taps against the spongy patch of nerves within you.

"Goddamn, look at you," your boyfriend hisses, spanking your ass with strong hands.

Your skin smarts, only adding to the immense pleasure and your body shivers at the impending explosion that is readying itself within you.

"C'mere," Guk hisses, sitting up and lifting you up slightly with ease.

"I fuckin' feel it. I want you to cum all over this cock. Give it to me, baby girl," he orders, fucking up into you roughly.

You can only squeal, digging the heels of your feet into his terse thighs.

Wrapping one arm around your back, he holds you close. The warmth you feel, the closeness you feel, it only brings you that much closer to your own release.

His golden skin sings with a sheen of sweat and you can't get over how impossibly handsome he is before you. He looks up at your pleasured face as if you hold the keys to the entire galaxy and the vast beyond.

He has three words on the tip of his tongue that he won't dare say because he's afraid to push you away. He adores you in all honesty, you're the first real, tangible thing he's ever gotten the pleasure to experience.

He's falling fast and he has no hope to come up from breath anytime soon.

"Oh, baby," he moans, wrapping his hand around the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss.

When your lips touch, it's like wildfire. The pleasure, the passion it soars through you like fireworks and you can only grip onto him in hopes of not losing yourself.

The gentle squeaks and whimpers you give against the pretty pink petals of his lips makes him put in all his effort into his thrusts.

"Daddy!" you cry out, feeling the bubble within you about to burst.

"Go ahead, baby girl. Cum on my cock," he grunts, accepting the way you bury your face into his neck.

When your thighs quiver and lock, when your cries become short and loud, your boyfriend's eyes flutter shut. Such peace, such pleasure, he's never known it like this before.

When you orgasm around him, sobbing his pet name, he pulls you down with him.

"Shit! You're incredible!" he praises as your cunt rhythmically clutches around his cock begging to milk him for all he's worth.

His thrusts become slower and harder, shivering below you until his hips stutter all together.

Ropes of his warm seed paint your walls and he whispers your name reverently, coasting his large hand over your back.

"Oh baby," he sighs softly, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

You don't move off of him, coddling to him like some sort of needy animal.

Pulling the blanket up with a tired arm, he covers both of your bodies.

Your hair is splayed all over his chest and your face is so perfectly nestled into his neck that he can't hope for anything else but this.

You're too tired to move, satiated beyond belief. Maybe it's the stress of the day now turning into sleepiness but your boyfriend is the most comforting body pillow below you at this moment.

Brushing your hair back and behind your shoulder, Guk lifts his head to lay it down on his arm. His fingers draw unimaginably soft random shapes to your skin and it's so peaceful to watch your face become highlighted by the moon's rays.

While you can still be deemed a puzzle, a Rubik's cube, he's slowly figuring out the answer.

When your breathing becomes more shallow, he lets himself utter the words he's been holding while he thinks you're asleep.

"I'm falling in love with you," he whispers, holding you closer to him.

Your eyes open, not daring to look up at him but you can hear the emotion in his voice. You can see the way he swallows thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing with every one.

You know he thinks you're sleeping, you know he's speaking openly with hopes that you can't hear him right now so you let his sentence float away in the stagnant air like water down a calm river.

You're afraid to say it back. You're afraid it might be true. And you're even more afraid that you might be feeling the same way.

<------ Last Chapter       Next Chapter ----->

[fahbev]

Hi! Saw you jumped on the tim hate train, welcome to the club! Aplarently you're Damian fan, which is good bc hes also one of the characters who's hit by tim's..woobification? Victimization(???) while simultaneously being the bestest, most competent batfam member. You Damian fans honestly have my respect for the pure amount of shit Damian gets because of tim.

hi lmao. Thanks xD. I usually try to keep all my negativity off of the internet, but last night I was going the anti Tim drake tag bc my frustration was flaring up. At first i was collecting posts by liking them instead of rb, then I was replying, and then at some point... “Fuck it. I want this on my blog.”

(This is gonna be a ramble btw, I don’t care abt making a good post rn.)

I used to be fine with Tim! I think the whole thing was a lot less prominent in the dpxdc fandom bc DANNY was the fan favorite/community elected woobie, but then I kinda moved out and... well. It still took awhile for this issue to seep in bc those Tim fans (you know the ones) are certainly a minority, but I just don’t think you can be a Damian fan for longer than a few months without getting frustrated.

Nowadays I refuse to read anything tagged with any variation of “Tim Drake angst” that features the batfam. Timkon fics are usually just fine though.

Actually— recently? Shit’s been bothering me so bad that I don’t wanna risk reading fics that have Tim in the first relationship tag at all. He’s gotta at most be in the second one. Ship fics are again an exception, but I don’t tend to seek out ship fics much anyway.

But, like I said, I usually keep it to myself. Every time i catch myself venting in the tags I either screenshot the tags and delete, or I delete and retype them. I put them into a private notes document. I also journal in there a lot instead of posting it.

That document is pretty long.

I do wanna say that there’s nothing wrong with what tim fans are doing. It is fun to woobify your fave. It’s fun to prop them up and tear others down and make everything about your blorbo and it is harmless. I do it too (usually in my daydreams). It’s a fantasy, and that’s what fanfiction is for. People who act like it’s “problematic” are wrong. That doesn’t mean it’s not annoying. Because it is. It’s annoying as all fuck.

Also wanna mention that I once read a damian fic that like... started off with some delicious whump, but then it turned into a whole Damian pity party and it guilt tripped all his friends and family. Damian IS my blorbo and I couldn’t read that. I didn’t even know who Maps was at the time but it seemed so bizarre to throw her under the bus. Anyway I feel like that’s what a quite large portion of Tim fic is like except a bit less extreme.

I used to tell myself that “ohhh it’s just a rivalry. I’m sure Tim fans get the same shit in reverse all the time” but I literally NEVER see it in the other direction and spend the most of my time in Damian circles. The only time I see tim hate from damian fans is frustration at those particular fans in response to it or in response to favoritism of authors.

I mean i saw a good chunk of it last night, but what else can I expect from the anti tim drake tag?

It’s actually funny how most of the stuff in anti tags is polarized hate shitting on the character with a lot of bad takes, but in tims anti tag it was almost exclusively frustration from Damian and Jason fans, and usually pretty mild takes. Also people calling Tim boring.

Ngl, Idk much about Jason. I’m familiar with his fanon, but the only comic i’ve read that featured him in a major way was Gotham War. I don’t know him well, and I don’t have too much interest in him. However, I hate “Jason falls over in guilt and kisses Tim’s fingers begging for forgiveness” type posts in solidarity. It’s yucky.

Anyway, I didn’t even mean to get on this anti tim train you speak of, It just sorta leaked out of my vent doc. Don’t expect me to keep posting about it.

but also... don’t not expect it. It might happen.

Even so, my dms are absolutely open for Timothy Drake related frustration! I’m pretty tired of being nice to him.