#i've been aching to post my own work for a while

[bunny-jpeg]

the jailbird (2)

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

part 1 | original text post

cw: (former) prisoner!simon, civilian!reader, romance & fluff, smut, size kink, sane and consensual, roleplay, rough sex, spanking, bondage & gags, tattoo kink, dom!simon, sub!reader

bunny says: love the fic? leave a comment! really love the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are encouraged!

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living with an ex-convict was interesting. he still woke up at the crack of dawn, and as a result you were up too. he didn't know where anything was in your apartment, he hated that he had to wake you up but he didn't know where the spoons were.

you were happy to help him and spend some extra time together before you went to work. the more you were around him, the more you realized how big he was compared to you.

even his hands were much larger than yours. he loved to wrap you up in his arms and hold you while you were making yourself some breakfast. those strong tattooed arms around your middle as you flipped eggs.

sometimes he'd bury his face in your neck and visibly relaxed. he was still dealing with his fair share of trauma from the previous events of his life. and while it often left him stressed, he found comfort in you.

"you're my anchor, love." he said within the first week of his return to society.

you simply smiled and tried not to blush too hard as you said, "well, si. i'll happily be your anchor, as long as your mine."

"you're anchor, your rock, your foot solider, your lover." he said as he kept his gaze on you. since he had been living with you, you found his expression had softened a little. he could relax here.

"my husband." you reached out for him. he took your hand and kissed the top of it before he held it for a moment then returned it to you.

simon had a long road ahead of him, being on the inside for so long was going to cause some problems. but, he knew even if he had nothing. he had you.

it was almost five months into living together and he managed to get an interview working in small parts manufacturing. while it was tedious, they didn't need to look at his criminal record. which greatly excited him.

when he came home from the interview, he told you that it went well. that they seemed to like his dedication and were impressed when he mentioned his time in the military. he said, "got the whole 'thank you for your service'." as he held you and kissed you deeply.

it felt like your little lives were coming together. but the one thing you hated to admit to yourself. you sort of had a dark side, it wasn't anything too aggressive or 'evil'. you thought that simon was the perfect boyfriend, he'd never hurt a hair on your head.

but the idea of being with a criminal sort of had a sexy ring to it. to be with the bad boy. you almost felt embarrassed to admit it when he'd come home with flowers for you, or when he smiled at you. or when he held your hand when you went out. with you he got to be a person with love.

deep down you wanted to know the depths of your boyfriend. you wanted to know what a man like him, with his skill set, was capable of. you wanted it to burn, ache and hurt.

it took a lot of courage, you communicated with your boyfriend about a little make believe. while hesitant at first, he slowly started to warm up to the idea. you knew he was open to it when he came home from one, actually the first day at his job, with a bundle of bondage rope.

"the blue looks good on you." he remarked as he finished tying you up on the bed. he had your arms behind your back with you on your side and one leg tied to the bed post.

you looked at him, those eyes of yours were so alluring. you tried to move your leg but was stuck to the bed. he smiled down at you and tapped the ball gag in your mouth.

"but it doesn't matter what you want. right?' he asked, "i've searched a long time for you. you're not an easy woman to catch." he got between your legs, and hiked one leg over his shoulder as he started to aggressively lick your cunt. it was already dripping from the act of him tying you up.

there was no escape for you, even if you somehow got out of the bondage. he was almost twice the size of you and could do some damage if he wanted to.

you squirmed and whimpered around the ball gag as he took long, hard licks against your clit. he wanted to make sure his girl was wet enough for his large cock.

"maybe i should breed ya. bring you back to the boys all fat with my brats.' he purred, "i don't think they can throw ya in the can if you're pregnant. but who knows, you got pregnant by a thief." he continued to lick your sweet cunt. he was in heaven.

he really was so much bigger than you. he overpowered you, he could keep you down and fuck you until he had his fill, and there was nothing you could do about it. you were bound and gagged like a good girl.

he kept at it, he even teased your hole with his thick fingers until you were squirming more with your moans getting louder. he slapped your ass and gave you a stern look over your pussy. he gripped your leg over his shoulder. "shut up." he growled, "i don't need ya causin' a scene. i'd hate to go back to prison because you can't keep your trap shut up."

you hole clenched and he chuckled. he patted where he smacked and grabbed at the flesh before he went back to his feast between your legs. it didn't take long before the slick between your thighs got all over his face.

he pulled away and sat up on his knees. he stared down at you with your thigh wrapped around his waist. he was going to fuck you at a weird angle, but it was the only way he could keep his little prize tied up. he wiped is face, "you are the best thing i've caught." he said, "stolen a lotta loose change, but they're nothin' to the sweet taste of your cunt." he got his cock out his sweatpants and started to rub it against your slick pussy. he let out a harsh sigh from the sensation, "they should be keepin' ya behind the vault door." the tip slipped in for a moment and you clenched around it.

you whimpered and tried to pushed yourself down on his cock, but it was hard to do that when you were so tied up, he pushed the hair out of your eyes, your leftover wetness got on your cheek from his movements.

"but, you need to know." he said, "you're mine to do whatever to. your mommy and daddy aren't gonna save ya. you fell in love with a bad man and now you're lettin' him fuck your cunt raw. what's gonna happen at christmas when you're all swollen with my brats. riley boys are lil hell raisers." he went back to rubbing his cock up against your slit, "you'll be mine forever. my little prize. i should've taken ya a long time ago. just snatched ya up off the train. keep ya to myself." his tongue was getting loose from the buzz of pleasure in his brain.

you whimpered around the gag and almost cried out when he slipped his large cock into you easily. you felt it in your guts and his pace was much more brutal than the other times you've made love. that was the difference, you made love before. this was dirty, primal sex between a criminal and his captive.

the sounds of sex filled the air, paired with simon's heavy breathing. his heart was thumping steadily as he pushed his cock as deep as it would go. he loomed over you as he drilled himself into you. you were a comfortably tight fit around his cock.

you dug your nails into your palms from the immense pleasure and yelped when he slapped your ass. you whimpered when he leaned further into you to get closer into your personal space. his pace was brutal and it excited you.

"i'm a bad man." he said lowly, his voice close to your ear, "my worst crime is tainting such a precious angel." he held onto your calf as he bent your hips the closer he got. his voice was hot, "fill ya right up, make sure no other man has a chance to get ya knocked up." his tattooed hand went to your stomach which he gave a small rub, "my girl carryin' my boys."

your eyes almost rolled back from the heat in your body. you were almost drooling around the rubber gag in your mouth. it was dirty, it was filth. if anyone saw the state you were in, they would be shocked!

your head felt full of lust, you felt your lover so close to him. you knew despite the roughness and the harsh words, the entire scenario was safe. you knew you could get out of this if you needed to. but it wasn't getting to be too much, it was just enough.

the wetness between your legs and the flips in your stomach only excited you. to have such a large man be so domineering. it made you feel small in a good way. it was almost like being bound made you feel protected.

that you could lay yourself over to him and he'd cherish you. even if you were his little 'prize' for the evening. the hottest part was the pace at which his cock was battering your womb.

you whimpered against your gag and felt the heat rush through you. you held onto your palms as best as you could with your arms bound. the entire situation left you spinning, there was no wonder that orgasm crept up on you so easily.

with a loud moan around your gag, you climaxed around his cock. the tightness of your cunt mid-orgasm milked his cock till he was seeing stars. he came inside of you, his seed hit against the back of your womb.

the feeling of being able to do so left him a little slack-jawed. but he kept it together, even if his cheeks were flushed. when he finished, he slowly pulled out and started to untie you. his hands were shaky from the after effects of his orgasm.

he took the gag out of your mouth and pulled you in for a kiss when he finished untying you. he fell into bed with you and laid on top of the covers with you. he held you gently and kissed your face. he gave you gentle praise as he kept you in his arms.

when he looked at you, all was right in the world. you held onto him and pressed kisses against his face. after care consisted of tea and a small snack followed by a shower together, where he washed every part of you.

even though you were capable of doing it yourself, you still appreciated how detail orientated he was in the manner of getting you clean. little did you know that biology was working its magic and simon's seed found home in your cervix.

you better hope that the line about the riley boys being hellions was untrue or you'd have your hands full. it didn't help that when simon's hand grazed your stomach as he washed you that you blushed and tucked yourself closer to him.

mama riley did have a ring to it.

[revelboo]

I've seen people talk about waiting impatiently for another chapter of a story. I've never actually experienced it myself until now.

I just want you to know that these little posts about Starscream and the little human are my first experience actually setting my tumblr to alert me when someone posts and then frantically scrolling to read it lol.

Your writing is phenomenal and I love the physical descriptions you use for sensory type stuff. Just..... BRAVO!

I genuinely get a jolt of endorphins with each post!

And I hope you are doing well and having a nice day!

Awww, thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense! Starscream’s pretty fun to write.

Everything is Alright Pt 18

Starscream x Reader

• Venting loudly, he tips his head back against his berth. Can feel you still staring at him anyway, but he doesn’t look. Doesn’t need to see those pleading eyes, because his resolve will crumble. Just needs this contact, the warmth of your small form and the steady drum of your heart to ground himself. To prove you’re really okay. “No,” he growls, the word a firm warning that he couples with a gentle, but firm warning tap of a servo to the back of your head. “If you’d run into anyone smarter, you wouldn’t have survived.”

• Something he really doesn’t want to think about, but that his processor is delighting in torturing him with. You’re just so fragile. Breakable. With any luck, Scrapper immediately forgot all about seeing a human. With how many blows to the helm the mech has taken over the decades, his processor isn’t the most reliable. It’s honestly amazing he remembers his own name sometimes. “The cassettes kept me safe,” you protest, pushing up and he immediately pins you flat again under his palm. The cassettes. Why exactly you think they’re safe, he’s not sure. They certainly tossed you right at him on sight to save themselves. Denta working, he shutters his optics to keep from snarling. He’s not jealous of the fact that you seem to like their company. Of course not.

• He’s not sleeping or whatever passes for it in Cybertronians, just ignoring your protests. The hand laying across your lower body to keep you in place isn’t still. One single servo slides over the back of your head down between your shoulder blades again and again. Stroking almost absentmindedly, but it still slowly drains the tension out of you. And him, too you’re pretty sure. Cheek laying against him, you can feel the thrum of whatever it is inside him and smell him, a spiced scent with a metallic bite. Not unpleasant, just different.

• Blowing out a frustrated breath, you swallow a groan. You were so sure the cassettes are your get out of jail free card. Or at least, a day pass from spending the time he’s out and about doing whatever his alien robot job entails staring at the walls of his quarters alone. Pestering is just likely to make him angry and you don’t want to ruin this fragile peace. Or try to figure out what exactly you are to him, because it’s unlikely to make you feel better. And that brings you back to the look that has been on his face. That violent fury that had just fallen away because you were okay. He’d been worried. Maybe even terrified. And it makes your heart ache.

• He’s told you that he’s the second in command before while grumbling about his leader, this Megatron with a mix of sneering revulsion and an uneasy fear that’s only betrayed by his wings. What you know about the Decepticons is pretty sketchy at best, but you get the distinct impression that being second in command isn’t exactly glamorous. Maybe more like others constantly gunning for his spot by any means necessary. Which almost makes a sort of sense. If you are seen as a weakness of his, you might be targeted. It might be safer to be kept a secret. And trapped in his quarters for your own safety. Even if you hate it, you never want to see that stark fear on his face again.

Previous Next

[eemamminy-art]

Title: Coming Around Again Rating: Explicit, no archive warnings apply. Summary: It had always been his dream to eventually return to Pelican Town after spending his summers there as a child, but when Mallory inherits his grandparents' old farm he is surprised by just how much the town— and more importantly the people in it— have changed. Alex had been his best friend once, but now he was seemingly too busy and too cool for his old friend. Mallory threw away the life he had been building in order to come back home, but nothing is as he remembered it to be. His heart aches for the fleeting happiness of his past, and to forge a new future for himself— with any luck, a future that includes Alex by his side.

I've finally started posting this! I've uploaded the first three chapters and plan to post one chapter either every week, or every other week on weekends. It feels so vulnerable to finally be sharing this after pouring my heart out for 100k~ words, but here goes! I hope you enjoy!!

(Do note, that while marked explicit, the explicit chapters will be later. It is a slow burn after all!)

[thepenandthepistol]

Mundane Aching (Platonic!Grian x reader)

Due to some soreness, you're unable to help Gem like you said you would. Grian helps you out and soothes some of your worries.

A/N : Sickfic I wrote because my period was killing me T-T and also the first thing I've actually posted on this account! A win for the slayers of perfectionism. This was meant as a platonic fic but I'm sure you could read it as romantic if you want. Also, reader is an avian as well. (1018 words)

Art by @applestruda and divider by @saradika-graphics

There's still so much to be done, and here you are, still under the sheets. You spent the first half of the day trying to manage a creeping pain in your back right where skin meets the base of your coal-black wings. Ache spreads in waves from the limb and into your vertebra, as if something alive is puppeteering the sinews under your skin.

Despite the guilt, you've resigned yourself to your bed; due to an enormous nap, you missed your afternoon plans with Gem. Being an avian means you were much more used to flying than she was, and the new nether build she was planning required some tight maneuvering. Days like these are some you look forward to, holding onto the back of her chestplate, hovering over lava lakes and bastions. 

The trust she has in you, feeling safe even if dangling over potential death, is special in its own right. The friendship you've cultivated and the idle conversations had midair are among your most treasured memories. So, when the exhaustion from carrying materials to and from your shop finally made itself known, you groaned as you curled up on your bed, trying to push away the pain and at least pass by Gem's to apologize for your absence. Maybe sweeten the deal with a nice cake and evening tea.

A sudden flash of crimson outside your window makes you stop in your tracks, feet just inches from touching the cool floor. A single moment of silence is had before Grian pulls himself back up onto the windowsill with a mischievous smile. 

"Did I scare you?" He asks, shuffling inside and closing the window behind him with a soft click.

"Oh yeah," you start, closing your eyes and breathing deeply as a particularly sharp stab rolls from your back and claws at your ribs. "Only if being worried you were going to cut your wings on the bars outside counts as scared." 

"Excuse me, I'm very skilled! I could probably dodge like five of those in a row." He speaks with a smile, but, to your dismay, he's seen through your teasing and into the discomfort below. 

"Gem's been looking for you," he says, aligning some of the trinkets on your shelf and picking your work clothes off the floor. "Sent me here to check while she continued working." 

"Shit," you sigh and drape your arm over your eyes, blocking the light crawling in from outside. "I'm having a bad day, I guess. Must've overworked myself last week, and now my wings are killing me."

"Have you had something to eat?" You hear your closet door creek open and Grian looking for something between clothes and towels.

"Not exactly. I had a snack before midday, but I slept through lunch." You open your eyes to see him bring a nice blanket over your shoulders. It doesn't ease the pain, but the soft texture makes existing a little easier.

"Well, just about time for some tea then." You grimace, remembering your promise to Gem. Grian moves to close the room door behind him when you groan out a protest, wrapping the woolen quilt around yourself and finally standing up.

"I'll join you. If I lay here any longer, I'll sleep the entire day away," Grian snickers, but walks in sync with your lethargic steps down the stairs and into a quaint kitchen. 

Plopping down on a stool, you watch Grian clack on the stove and place a ceramic kettle on top. It was a birthday gift from Ren. A painted flock of dark birds contrasts the white background alongside some fleuron details. 

"Grian, mate, it's you," you point to a particularly wonky bird.

"Absolutely not, look at him! He's your splitting image." He gestures to the dark wings behind you. 

"You know what else is splitting?"

"Your head?"

"My head."

You rest your temple on the wooden table and furrow your eyebrows. You could probably make the journey over to Gem's by now; despite the headache and muscle cramps, you're feeling well enough to stand, and you could chance flying the short way over. 

With a crack, you stretch your wings entirely; they spasm a bit before reaching their full length; you pay no mind. What was once a terrible tendon-deep flare has resided to a burning soreness; you've done more than travel a couple hundred blocks in worse conditions. 

Grian pours the water into two mugs, each with a homemade teabag flopping loosely off the side. You take the smaller mug, lifting it to say 'cheers,' and sip on the sweet berry. You begin putting on your boots when Grian finally lets concern wash over his face.

"You should rest a bit more. Gem's fine. Her garden's turning out really nice." You hesitate a tad bit before tying the laces together.

"I promised her I'd help you know. I'm sure she understands, but I want to make good on my word." You don't register Grian setting down his mug and tilt your head in confusion as he kneels and pulls your boots to his thigh, unlacing them.

"You sound like a knight going to war," he cracks a tiny fond smile. "I know it's your nature, but these things aren't that serious. Your 'word' is still good even if you don't put your own health on the line." Silence follows.

"You're sure she doesn't need me?"

"Positively." He stalks off to line your shoes up by the door and then returns, sitting next to you on the couch and letting his wing curl around you.

"You need to relax. No wonder you're having a bad time when your muscles are that tense." He teases, and you scoff, taking back the mug and continuing to drink.

"Can you tell Gem I won't be making it then, please." 

"Yeah, course," he says, knocking his shoulder with yours and hopping to his feet. 

"I should tie a letter to your leg and throw you out of the second-story window." You say into the mug as he turns the knob on the front door.

"Hey! I am not a pigeon!"

[coffee-in-rain]

Vulnerable Hannibal Fic Rec List

Updated 1/13/2025 with three new additions located at the bottom of the page. A few of these fics are mine, but the rest are some of my favorite fics I've ever read that feature vulnerable Hannibal in various seasons, AUs, and post-canon.

shrike (to your sharp and glorious thorn):

Will begins to notice a change in Hannibal's behavior post-fall. He's become something akin to a fretting housewife.

The Ache Against The Wind (Rewritten):

3x13 AU: Will travels into an alternate dimension after plunging into the Atlantic and is confronted with the unexpected aftermath following the removal of Hannibal's toilet in the BSHCI.

Pareidolia:

Six weeks post-fall, Hannibal suffers from a seizure during dinner.

Je Te Laisserai Des Mots:

Six months have passed since Will pulled them over the cliff. Even in light of their progressing relationship, much of Hannibal still remains a mystery to Will. For reasons unknown, he’s begun to pull away. (A sequel to Shrike--my housewife Hannibal fic!)

Between The Hour Of Reprieve:

At the cliff house, Hannibal receives a much-needed-hug.

A Cabin In The Woods by KoolJack1:

Hannibal is thirteen and runs away from the orphanage when he feels that a fate of the elements will be better than the fate of abuse. He finds a small cabin in the woods, thinking warmth will be all he finds. He also finds Will. But who changes who?

this is absolutely amazing. i've never read an AU quite like this. a true masterpiece.

Recipricol Alchemy by Scifibabe:

In the silent echoes of his dreams, Will Graham treads a line blurred between control and chaos, each step drawing him inexorably towards claiming Hannibal as his own. It's a perilous dance on the edge of darkness, where the thrill of possession whispers of a transformation too profound to resist.

one of my faves. i can't even describe how perfect this explores their season 2 dynamic. such a unique trajectory and i am living for it.

Hold Me, Don’t Let Me Go by sourweather:

It's a few months after the Fall when it finally hits him. Hannibal has barely been touched in 3 years. And Will won't let it go on for another moment.

so precious omg. love it

Hosanna In The Highest by sainthannibal:

During the fall, Hannibal receives the brunt of the injuries, which leaves him unable to care for himself. Will discovers how much he enjoys taking care of him.

the post-fall whump is immaculate 🤧 love it

You Made Me Soup by itsybitsylemonsqueezy:

Hannibal comes down with pneumonia while incarcerated. Will decides to make him some soup. Absolutely no one thinks it's strange that Will comes to give his ex soup when he finds out he's sick. No one at all finds this suspicious. At. All.

god, i love this one so much. sick hannibal being hand-fed in the BSHCI? wailing my heart out

The Boy Under The Monster’s Bed by Wr4tttttthh:

There were deep wounds that needed healing, new and old, physical and otherwise.

one of my faves. Will finding Hannibal hiding under the table? a gut punch 😭

Delicate Ghost by hannigramcracker & TimmyJayBird:

She was different- not the ghost of his memories, but something about this bloodied child ripped right at Hannibal's chest, and left him drowning in a cold snow he thought he had left in his childhood, that he had locked away within his skull. Drowning, with only one hand to grasp at, one body to cling to. One man to work him through the trauma and remind him what life was.

so amazing. a unique perspective of how Will would deal with Hannibal becoming distressed while on a case together. one of the first vulnerable hannibal fics i've ever read 🥺

You With Those Nails, Me With This Cross by TheBitterKitten:

Will goes too far.

wailing into my pillow omg this had the perfect amount of angst.

The Distance Is Quite Simply Much Too Far For Me To Row by softhan:

Hannibal is having a rough time recovering from his injuries post-fall, and retreats into himself to avoid confrontation with Will while he's still weak and ill. Having to play happy husbands hardly helps.

my all time fave Hannibal whump fic. the way he's scared Will is disgusted by his accident? eternally sobbing. forever recommending this to anyone who is searching through this rec list.

Silk and Lace by jonnimir:

Bedelia leaves Hannibal and Will a gift at the house on the cliff.

crying because this was so tender and sweet. touch-starved hannibal at the cliff house. chef's kiss.

Not So Fast by scifibabe:

Hannibal wakes from a heated dream with a need that can’t be ignored—and Will, half-asleep but all too eager, is more than happy to help. What begins as a midnight indulgence quickly spirals into an overwhelming game of push and pull, as Will’s relentless appetite pushes Hannibal to the edge and beyond. Kinktober Day 10: Overstimulation + Face-Sitting

desperate and needy hannibal. need i say more? loved it 🤭

Hush Now by scifibabe:

What starts as Will stitching up Hannibal's latest hunting injury turns into something else entirely when a teasing "let Daddy take care of you" slips out. It's meant to be a joke--until Hannibal's reaction tells a different story. One playful push leads to another, and soon enough, they're both realizing they might be into this a little more than they expected. Kinktober Day 19: Fisting.

I truly cannot recommend Hush Now enough! It'll live rent free in my mind and heart for the rest of my life ♡

The Antidote To Grief by incidentsofunkownorigins:

On Will's idea, they visit Mischa's grave. What Will had hoped to be a healing moment of closure breaks something in Hannibal and he is the only one who can put the pieces back together.

this is such a beautiful take on Hannibal and Will visiting Lithuania together and how that would impact Hannibal. ♡

Pulse Point:

Post-Fall, an injured Hannibal awakes from an erotic dream, desperate and needy, aching for Will's touch.

Marveling at a Spoon by scifibabe:

After a gourmet dinner, Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter decide to indulge in something a little more... pedestrian—a joint. As the smoke settles and their usual control begins to loosen, Hannibal finds himself experiencing a sensation he never expected: a heightened sensitivity that unravels him under Will’s teasing touch. What starts as a curious experiment in relaxation quickly turns into a surprising discovery, one that leaves even the meticulous Hannibal completely undone. Will is all too eager to take advantage of his newfound knowledge, and Hannibal, for once, is too overwhelmed to resist.

god, i loved this so much.

We Are Now Among The Ruins by ADeedWithoutAName:

Hannibal survived the fall, but not unchanged. He intends to give Will the only gift he now can, and Will intends to honor him in the only way that matters.

i rarely read MCD, but this one is so worth the pain. i am eternally sobbing from this 😭 i also cannot recommend this one enough!!

Something Sacred by scifibabe:

In the quiet aftermath of their survival, silence has taken hold. Hannibal hasn't spoken since the night they washed ashore, his voice swallowed by their shared trauma. Will, haunted by the absence of words and the weight of unspoken things, has learned to reach Hannibal through touch, through the quiet rituals of care. When the strain of Hannibal’s pain becomes too much to hide, Will draws a bath—an unspoken offer of comfort. But today is different. Today, beneath the surface of familiar rituals, something stirs. As the warmth of the water surrounds them, walls begin to crack, and a fragile trust, once guarded so fiercely, blooms into something more intimate and vulnerable than either of them anticipated. In the quiet steam of the bath, two men find solace in each other’s arms, where tenderness can no longer be ignored.

this was so beautiful and soft omg. forever wailing about Hannibal asking Will to join him in the bath. ♡

A Pinch Of Salt In The Wound:

Renderered mute and bedbound post-fall, Hannibal begins to spiral.

You Believe Me Like A God:

Hannibal becomes severely injured post-episode 3x13.

compimento by cervviidae:

Hannibal learns what it's like to be Will's husband.

one of the most beautiful fics i've ever read that explore post-fall hannibal being loved with genuine tenderness and affection by Will. one i'll forever recommend.

Solace In Being Heard by air_of_the_Waterfall:

Hannibal is having terrible nightmares, and Will comes up with a rather unexpected method of helping him get a full night’s sleep.

i love that this offers such a unique look into Hannibal's childhood trauma and how it would impact his sleep. can't recommend it enough!

Bright Burn by Shotgun_sinner:

Hannibal suffers life-threatening injuries post-fall. Will makes decisions to save Hannibal, while trying to recover the life with him that he's only just realized he wanted. How far will he go to keep what's his?

the whump is immaculate in this post-fall fic too 🤧

crave, then succumb:

Hannibal receives a second hug post-fall, while high as a kite on morphine, and ends up unraveling in Will's arms.

chimera of the chapel by bleakmidwinter:

When Will Graham wakes up from a coma three months after the fall, Jack reveals that Hannibal Lecter didn't survive. Outside the realm of Hannibal's influence, Will decides to discover the full truth behind the world's sudden and seeming falsehood. Everybody seems to hold their own opinion on Hannibal's fate, but Will knows better than anyone that trust and honesty are as elusive as death.

incredible. i can't even express how much i loved this. the tender moments and development of their relationship is so beautiful 😭♥���

Keep Me Warm by nbcravenstag:

Will arrives home after walking through a blizzard, fully expecting an angry husband, but instead finds a traumatized little boy, terrified of the cold and haunted by what he's already lost.

the hurt/comfort in this was amazing. love it so much.

Beauty Not Needed Here by kralbellen:

“I know you are in love with me.”

It's not a question but not fully a statement either. A certain amount of doubt colores Will's tone, giving the sentence a nervous lilt.

Hannibal's first instinct is to deny it, in some half-hearted, last effort at self-preservation. He almost smiles – there is no self-preservation left for him when it comes to Will.

Hannibal is asexual. this was so tender and sweet. eternally wailing into my pillow. as someone who's ace this was like a breath of fresh air.

O Holy Night by memequeen1127:

Hannibal gazes at him right back, smiling as if he knows exactly what Will’s thinking. And considering how they know each other inside and out, he very well might.

“Merry Christmas, Will,” he says softly.

Will smiles. “Merry Christmas, Hannibal.”

the sweetest oneshot i've ever read. Hannibal regresses during Christmas and Will is so patient and caring. wailing about this until the end of time 😭🩵

The Perception Of Reality Through Language by Angelic_Disaster:

Hannibal can recognize the factors of trauma in others but not in himself. That's why he denies that there is a reason why he doesn't speak Lithuanian.

sobbing at this for eternity. Will speaking to Hannibal in Lithuanian and then Hannibal breaks down in his arms?? i couldn't ask for anything more beautiful than that in a fic.

Living With A Ghost Of Summer by itsbeautiful:

Based on a requested prompt. Where Will is an idiot, ahem, I mean Will loves Hannibal and tries to surprise him by making a home cooked meal using dishes from Lithuania. Fails spectacularly to lie his way out of it and everything goes horribly wrong. And then they cuddle. The end.

one of my favorites. Will cooks Lithuanian food for Hannibal, who ends up becoming an emotional mess.

[luxsky]

Kicking out

Rhysand x reader

Summary: Reader tries to have a peaceful day without their partner hovering with overprotection, but destiny has other plans.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of body aches, Rhysand being an overly protective rooster. Ignore any biological errors; I've never been pregnant and have no background in any health-related field, so everything here is either from my imagination or a quick Google search.

Autor's Note: This is my first time posting here, and I'm anxious and very, very nervous (especially because it's the first time I've written in a long time). I don't know if I like this or not, but this idea has been lingering in my head for days. Maybe I'll do a part two, but I'm not sure. Please, I welcome any kind of feedback here! (but be careful with how you say it). I apologize if the grammar is... bad? English is not my first language, and I'm not fluent (much of this had help from AI for translation, so if something doesn't make sense or is placed incorrectly, please let me know so I can correct it).

It's the beginning of fall, all you wanted to do was sit on the expensive and cozy sofa decorating the House of Wind and read a soft and cliché romance book while sipping on a cup of hot coffee. Except, you couldn't consume caffeine for the sake of the baby growing in your belly. Still, you had the option to sit and read a book, but your large and exuberant belly prevented you from sitting comfortably for too long. Well, nothing a few pillows and a blanket couldn't solve. Okay then, you didn't have coffee or a comfortable position, but you could still read your book, right?

Well, no, you've been trying to do that since the early afternoon when you sent Rhysand to his office, asking him to work a bit in his own court instead of watching over you. In fact, he had been a mother hen since the beginning of the pregnancy, and that was just one of the excuses you gave to get rid of his overprotectiveness. But it was becoming a challenging mission to concentrate on reading. You're nearing the end of your pregnancy, which is exciting in part, with the anticipation of meeting your little one consuming you, but the discomfort of carrying a baby constantly kicking your ribs has proven quite persistent.

It's been more than five minutes since you were stuck on the same page, reading and rereading but unable to focus on the book, back pain and intermittent cramps stealing all your concentration. You were used to a slight discomfort in your back since the beginning of the second trimester, but today, in particular, it was more of a significant and noticeable discomfort. You sighed in frustration and decided that maybe eating something would help. Putting the book aside, you remove the blanket from over you and swing your legs out of the sofa, prepared for the struggle it would be to get up. Normally, Rhys would help you, but if he left the office long enough to realize something was bothering you, he would spend the rest of the day hovering over you, worried and concerned.

Breathless and almost sweating, you managed to get up. At this point, the only clothes that fit you were light fabric dresses, or what you were currently wearing: one of Rhys's sweatpants and a sweater stolen from his closet. Your partner started sharing half of his wardrobe when your beautiful, stylish, and beloved clothes no longer fit you—you cried for a whole hour after trying to put on one of your favorite pants, and Rhys almost cried too, not knowing how to comfort you.

Walking towards the kitchen, you almost laughed, remembering the various times when hormones provided you with uncontrollable tears and frightened your partner. In those moments, you felt slightly vindicated by his insistence on being present for every breath you took. It's not that you didn't love your partner and appreciate his concern; it's just that he didn't know how to balance it at certain times. As soon as you told him you were pregnant, he became an overprotective mother hen full-time, and it suffocated you a bit. Of course, you talked about it, and he promised to control himself, but if you made a different move, he was already on top of you, asking what was wrong and insisting that you needed to stay in bed.

Reaching the kitchen, you pause for a moment to catch your breath and lean your hands on your back while deciding what to eat. God, this belly was weighing more than usual. Deciding to make a big, hearty sandwich, you start gathering all the necessary ingredients from the cabinets and placing them on the counter.

You feel your partner gently pulling that thread connecting you two, and the next moment, he's entering the kitchen, a furrow between his eyebrows indicating that he's thinking, and the slight contraction in his mouth tells you he's worried. "Darling, you should be resting."

You roll your eyes and let a faint smile form on your lips as you reply, "I was resting, but then I got bored." You lean against the counter for a minute, then turn to grab a knife to cut the tomatoes. When you turn again, Rhys is in front of you, reaching out towards you and taking the knife. "If you wanted something to eat, you just had to ask." You pout at him, but he ignores it and turns to the counter, starting to cut the tomatoes. "I just wanted to do something for myself; you don't let me touch anything since you found out I'm pregnant."

You're beside him, staring at the tomatoes he cut, waiting for a response. He turns his face to you and plants a quick kiss on your forehead, grabbing the bread and saying, "Because the only thing I'll let my partner do while she's pregnant is to make this baby. That's consuming enough energy, and I don't want you to tire yourself out."

"Well, your partner may be making a baby, but she assures you she has enough energy to make her own sandwich."

He raises an eyebrow, and a shit-eating grin forms on his lips. Like she had enough energy to organize the baby's clothes last night? His voice fills your mind, the thread connecting you two vibrating with his amusement. Bastard.

I only slept because you decided to intervene and didn't let me do anything else.

"Darling, I only intervened because you were asleep." He starts putting each ingredient on the bread, and you decide to sit — not because you're tired, obviously — in front of him. You go around the counter as you respond, "Well, I don't remember... Argh." The sudden pain reverberating in your back and cramping that comes and goes cut your speech in half. Damn, you really hoped it wouldn't happen now.

Rhys is in front of you before you can even move, one hand on your belly and the other gently placed on your face, guiding your eyes to meet his. "What's wrong? Is it you? The baby? Panic fills his voice and shines in his beloved violet eyes. His mouth has that contraction again.

The only response you give is a negative nod, trying to catch your breath as the pain passes. He continues with his hands on you and doesn't seem satisfied with your non-verbal answer. I'm fine, the baby is fine. It must have been just another kick in my rib.

His right hand holds the one he placed on your face, and his lips try to form a reassuring smile, which is probably just a funny grimace at the moment. He kisses your forehead, and there's still concern on his face when he pulls away just enough to put both hands on your belly. His gaze alternates between your face and your belly; he still seems reluctant, so he asks again, "Are you sure? I can call Madja just to check, and..."

''Shh." You interrupt him, placing a finger on his lips. Your gaze softened, and now you're the one placing both hands on your partner's face, your thumb stroking his cheek." I said we're fine; it's nothing serious. The baby has been restless all day."

That seems to convince him enough because he agrees and holds your hands, bringing his face closer to yours and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You pull away after a moment, this time with a complete smile when you playfully say, "Now, go finish my sandwich, or else this baby will start kicking for food." Rhysand laughs with your remark and turns to the counter, finishing your sandwich.

He starts putting away the ingredients again after placing the plate in front of you. "Why didn't you tell me you were in pain? We could have asked Madja for something." He finishes putting away the last ingredient and turns to you again, only the counter separating him as he watches you take the first bite of the sandwich.

"Oh God, this is so good." You ignore his statement, too focused on savoring what might be the best sandwich of your life. He accepts your lack of response with a soft laugh and turns to the cabinets to grab a glass. "Do you want some juice?" you mumble a yes, with your mouth full of the sandwich, and wait for him to fill the glass. He has his back to you while rummaging through the cabinets.

Splash.

"What kind of juice do you want, dear? Because I think we only have orange or grape, but I can ask the House to make some other flavor." He turns to you, waiting for a response, but his face transforms when he sees your expression. "What? Is something wrong?"

Oh, well, this is going to be funny. You finish swallowing the sandwich, trying to formulate a word. He stays where he is, waiting for your response, frozen. But it's your next words that make him run towards you.

"I think my water just broke."

Another pang erupts in your back, and you realize that maybe it wasn't the baby that was restless. It was contractions.

And this baby is about to kick its way out of your belly.

[qhazomb]

so some recent art by @we-cool-beans reminded me of this one "sharing a body" au i've thought about.

i've talked about my other one where it takes place post-canon, with the temporary body-sharing happening in order to save gordon from a life-threatening disease he developed (likely from all that radioactive raw sewage...), but this is one that takes place during canon.

(this is using my headcanon that benry's true form is just a big glowing cloud of rainbow cosmic energy containing a consciousness).

after gordon's hand gets chopped off, and then benry realizes humans cannot in fact regrow limbs, he's not exactly jazzed over the fact that he got gordon perma-fucked up. he's also not a big fan of the fact that he can't un-fuck him up. benry doesn't know how to make someone else's body regrow limbs, just the body that he's in!

....so then he gets the idea "oh i'll just pop into gordon's body to fix it, then."

so benry abandons his own body somewhere (not important, he can just make a new one later), and slips into gordon's when everybody's asleep. when he gets there, he originally intended on just fixing gordon's hand and then leaving, but holy shit this guy is a LOT more beat up than benry thought. this hev suit's kinda sucks at being armor, huh. there's new wounds that are looking pretty rough, and benry also notes evidence of old injuries that don't look like they healed the way they're supposed to. he's got a looooot of work to do.

when the science team all wake up, they're all extremely surprised to see that gordon is no longer down a hand. the others of course make light of it, but gordon himself is feeling a weird mix of relief and what the fuck over the fact that he just... regrew a limb. like a fucking lizard or something. the rest of the team try coming up with theories on why this happened- "Perhaps the hazardous materials you've been swimming in have given you mutant powers!" "Are you sure you're actually human?" "Maybe Black Mesa's been secretly experimenting on you without you knowing it."

gordon of course does not like any of these theories.

at one point gordon gets a cut on his hand, an sees that his blood is a LOT darker than it should be, which freaks him out further. and then, again, when that cut heals up pretty much right before his eyes, he's not sure if he should be thankful or freaking the fuck out over it.

gordon also doesn't like the fact that benry's been missing again for A While, which normally he'd be thankful for, but given the current circumstances, it's putting him extra on edge.

gordon finally finds out both why he has a hand again and where benry went when he has a big emotional outburst... that's accompanied by sweet voice.

"I didn't know you could use the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, Gordon!"

gordon insists that he can't, and his panic is rising as more coloured orbs spill from his mouth (which tommy comfirms means gordon is panicking. bubby makes a comment like "Yeah, we can tell.")

it's then that benry, who has been just been staying quiet the whole time, finally speaks up in gordon's mind. "hey, calm down maybe?"

obviously this just freaks gordon out even more, albiet in a different way.

when gordon says he can hear benry in his fucking head, there's definitely some jokes in there from the team about gordon hearing voices now/being haunted again, pff.

eventually benry's able to explain himself (the best he can, at least). he's in here because gordon couldn't heal that good on his own, and benry couldn't heal him without being in here. and he's staying here because gordon's weak lil baby human body is just SO easy to break, like damn, so benry's gotta stick around to make sure it stays put together. he's the maintenance man, now.

gordon of course HIGHLY objects to this, but it's not like he can force this weird cosmic energy being out of his body.

(and though he's not saying it out loud, he does appreciate how all his usual aches and pains have been completely gone ever since benry started this "maintenance" work.)

gordon does at least get benry to agree to get the fuck out of him once they're all out of black mesa, though.

and then through the rest of their journey, understandings happen, and bonding happens. i've imagined one point where gordon is feeling Overwhelmed with Emotions and having a bad time because of it, when benry tells him to just, sing it all out with sweet voice. gordon begrudingly does so, and then... actually does feel better afterwords. turns out sweet voice is a really good way to get Big Feelings out. huh.

now the thing that we-cool-bean's art specifically reminded me of, is when they get to xen. benry obviously isn't here to be the big bad final boss, thus the nihilanth is still kickin' around, and proving to be just as dangerous as xenrey. during the fight, benry gives gordon a lil power-up: RAINBOW DEATH MODE

(gordon doesn't get freaky shape-shifting like benry does when in RAINBOW DEATH MODE, he just gets glowy. there's extra orange in there as that's gordon's life energy colour signature!)

i picture gordon getting to land the final blow on the nihilanth, managing to get up on its head, prying open that noggin' to expose the crystal... but then being unsure what to do next.

benry yells in his mind "song of death at it!"

"How do I do that!?"

"just think about how much you wanna kill this guy and SING!"

the 'singing' that comes out of gordon's mouth sounds less like the angelic theramin notes benry sings, and more like death metal screaming, but hey it gets the job done all the same!

in the end, even after benry's vacated the freeman, it soon becomes aparent that gordon is... not entirely human anymore. having benry spend so much time hanging out within him, and then giving that RAINBOW DEATH MODE boost at the end fully cemented gordon's own connection to the cosmic ether, which is what sustains benry. now it's sustaining gordon, too.

...aaaand gordon's gonna need some lessons on how to keep from spitting out sweet voice when he gets a bit too emotional while in public :B

[staybabblingbaby]

Soulmate Garden AU Ch.2 (Anemone) a3d2

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 4,218

Notes: I don't feel like the summary completely matches this story anymore. I'm also not really satisfied with this chapter, but I'm too tired to really get into a whole bunch of drafts and edits, I've just really been feeling poorly lately. The archive is for writing progress anyways, it's fine. I'll probably rewrite this whole chapter if I ever get to where I'd be comfortable posting finished versions to Ao3. I'm also just not fond of my writing style somehow. It feels too formal, doesn't flow enough. Problem is that I really talk like that lmao. Idk, I'll figure it out.

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

Bangchan clambered into the van behind Felix, Minho and Jisung loading into the row in front of them. It always felt a bit weird to not spend some time swapping seatmates around based on who was clinging to who at the moment, but on days like today it was easier to just board the vehicles as quick as possible.

He's ended up with a relatively quite combination of their cluster today, and Chan was grateful for it as he settled into his seat with a pained grimace.

He wasn’t sure when it had started, but a persistent on-and-off pain had been roaming around his back for the last twenty minutes as they’d said goodbye to Stays and prepared to leave the venue. He’d be more worried about it, except the sharp, needle-like, pains would settle into a gentler ache before kicking back up again.

As it was, Chan was pretty sure he’d pinched a nerve or strained something and would simply rest when he got back to the hotel. Maybe call up the PT. For now, as three of his soulmates settled in around him, Chan was content to leave it be.

Well, almost. Another twinge of pain makes him wince as he twists to buckle in, and Chan decides that maybe it’d be a good idea to know what he was working with. For comfort’s sake, if nothing else.

“Felix,” He prods the blond next to him, “Can you look at my back for me? I think I pinched something.” He motions toward his lower back, where the majority of the pain had been accumulating.

Felix immediately nods his acceptance, their group’s resident massage expert always willing to lend a hand. Especially if it let him lay hands on his very well built soulmates.

Chan scooches forward and rotates around, balancing with his hand on the headrest of the seat in front of him. He helps Felix shimmy his shirt upwards, struggling with it where it gets caught in the seat-belt.

Chan ends up stuck struggling on his own as Felix chooses that moment to direct his eyes and hands to the afflicted area.

“There’s your first issue,” Felix tuts, “You’ve left your concealment tape on. You’ll give yourself a rash one of these days, hyung.”

Chan gives a sheepish smile from where he’s managed to trap himself in a cloth prison. His head is free, and the shirt his appropriately bunched up over his shoulders and around his neck. Unfortunately, he hadn’t managed to free his hands, so he’s got a bit of a t-Rex thing going on right now. It’s fine.

“I forget it’s there,” he confesses with a whine, “I can’t see my own back, y’know?”

Felix rolls his eyes at their oh-so-glorious leader, carefully peeling the thin material away from Chan’s skin as he scolds, “You still need to take it off. We sweat way too much to not at least change it after a performance.”

He’s bunching up the extra-strength tape to maybe toss at Jisung in the front seat (maybe Minho, if he’s feeling very brave), when he spots something off.

More than half a decade into having found each other, the members of Stray Kids were intimately familiar with each other’s soulmarks. Every drop of color, every line, every curve.

So when Felix looks at the freshly uncovered canvas on Chan’s back, familiar trees, bushes, and rocks painting a forested landscape that describes their impact on their eldest, something new immediately catches his eye.

There, on the fallen log that bridged two banks of a crystal-clear creek, was a moss blanket and a cluster little shelf mushrooms. They added life to the previously defunct object, a little bit of color that couldn’t have been said to be missing until it wasn’t.

The closer Felix looked, the more he saw. A mushroom here, a mossy patch there. Little signs of life and decay that he could have sworn weren’t there the last time he looked.

He looks to Jisung, who’s blissfully unaware.

As the first of their cluster to paint Chan’s skin with color, he was the most familiar with their leader’s mark. Jisung had been too young for his own mark to have appeared when he’d met Chan, but that didn’t stop him from influencing their eldest’s. They all knew he’d spent a lot of time studying Chan’s mark (and Changbin’s when it had appeared, already partially colored in) while waiting for his own.

If there was anyone who’d be more than certain of a change in their soulmarks, it’d be Jisung.

Felix swiftly removes his hands from Chan’s back, earning him a little noise of confusion from the prone man, and reaches over to poke Jisung harshly in the side.

Jisung immediately flinches away from the offending fingers with a loud yelp, attracting the attention of Minho, who’d been peacefully scrolling on his phone. Jisung swiftly fixes Felix with an offended glare, ready to retaliate, but is cut off before he can even try.

“Look at Chan’s mark for me.” Felix demands.

“My mark?” Chan echoes, baffled and alarmed. “What’s wrong with my mark?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Felix assures, “I just need to check I’m not seeing things.”

A series of furtive, silent, and, on Felix’s part, urgent, gestures are exchanged before Jisung finally relents and leans around the back of his seat, grabbing Minho’s for balance as the van departs.

Jisung lazily traces his eyes over Chan’s soulmark. All of Stray Kids had huge marks, but Jisung privately thought that Chan had them all beat. His mark spanned his entire back, not an inch untouched by the image. From shoulder to hip was an oil painting of a mark, filled in from what used to be a desolate landscape to what was now a thriving forest.

Jisung used to think it was so overwhelming to be part of such a mark. To be loved so much, and so deeply. It was evident in every brushstroke of the image on Chan’s skin, and in every action of the man himself.

These days, he found great comfort in it.

He’d gotten so lost in thought as he studied his soulmate’s mark that Jisung had almost missed what had caught Felix’s attention in the first place. But sure enough, his eyes catch on the same log that Felix’s had.

“Oh.” He whispers to himself. “Oh.” He says again, as Minho shoves his head under Jisung’s arm to look himself.

“No, yeah, that’s different.” He confirms, Minho nodding against him, having already spotted it for himself. The two of them find their eyes glued to tiny mushrooms, only sparing a moment to glance at each other before returning their gaze to Chan’s skin, each with their own racing thoughts.

“I thought so.” Felix nods to himself.

“What?” Chan questions, becoming more alarmed by the second, “What’s going on? What’s happened? What’s wrong with my mark?”

Felix lays his palms flat on Chan’s back and begins to rub gentle, soothing, circles. Any changes to a soulmark were stressful at the best of times, and they all knew how much Chan treasured his.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Felix soothes, letting the warmth of Chan’s mark resonating with his touch calm them both as he searches for gentle words.

“It’s just,” He begins hesitantly, “Well, the good news is that you haven’t pinched or strained anything.”

“Good news?” Chan echoes, “Is there bad news?” He lets a nervous giggle fall from his lips even as he relaxes into Felix’s hands.

“Not necessarily?” Felix says uncertainly, “It’s just. Well. Your mark has changed.” He pauses a second and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture and then passing it around so Chan can see. “Something’s been added.”

Felix lets the implication of his words sit untouched in the air as the three of them wait for Chan to process what this means.

Ironically, Chan was the least familiar with his own mark out of all of them. His and Minho’s both resided on their backs so it stood to reason that the two of them didn’t see their marks very often. So it was no surprise that it took Chan several, very long, moments to spot the tiny changes.

When he does, Chan pulls in a deep, stuttering breath. The pain is already fading out to an ache now that it’s been acknowledged and Chan isn’t sure how he feels about the extra confirmation.

He carefully pulls his shirt back down, breaking his soulmate’s line of sight like they hadn’t already burned the image onto their retinas. He doesn’t remove his eyes from Felix’s phone.

“I...” He trails off, “I have another soulmate?” His voice is filled with wonder as he marvels at the picture of his mark. He looks up at the rest of his soulmates currently in the van with awe. “We have another soulmate?”

“Yeah,” Minho whispers, voice choked with emotion, “Yeah it looks like it.”

Felix doesn’t wait for Chan to fully turn around before he’s pulling their leader into a bone-crushing hug, giddy, disbelieving, laughter spilling out of him even as tears prick at his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Felix celebrates quietly as Chan wiggles to return his hug just as tightly. “Oh my god.” The other man agrees.

Even as his soulmates celebrate around him, each feeling their own storm of emotions, Chan can’t quite grasp the reality of the situation.

Stray Kids was a uniquely large soul cluster. From the beginning, when it had become evident that Hannie wasn’t his only soulmate, it had caused issues. Then came Bin, and the rest had followed like dominos. Each time their circle expanded he’d thought “this has to be it, right?” and each time there was a little voice in the back of his mind saying, “No, not yet.”

The issue was that that feeling, that little voice saying ”not yet”, the knowledge that they weren’t complete, had never gone away.

By the time they had all met, none of them could spot anything obviously missing from their marks. All of them were completely colored, lines drawn, images complete. And yet, every one of them felt that hollowness of an incomplete bond.

They’d talked about it a lot. Individually, as a group, in pairs and in quartets and seemingly endless combinations. It was hard, as the years went by, to ignore that nagging feeling.

Chan would always remember Jeongin crawling into his bed in the middle of the night, crying and apologizing for not being enough. Could never forget taking Jisung to a rage room so they could both break down their feelings or drinking with Changbin and wondering if it was wrong for them to be so greedy as to want more when they already had so much.

After so many years, they’d begun to wonder if they were just broken. If they didn’t have another soulmate out there after all, and it was all in their heads.

It had been hard. It was hard.

And now that little blank space in his soul was painted with someone else’s colors and Chan felt whole in a way he wasn’t sure he’d ever experience.

It kind of made him want to cry.

He wanted to cry even more when Felix innocently asks, “So what were they like?” An unmatched eagerness in his eyes as Chan pulled away.

That one guileless question triggers a realization in Chan that has his groaning in despair and slumping forward back onto Felix’s shoulder.

“I don’t know.” Chan mumbles into the shoulder of the slighter man.

“What was that?” Jisung questions from where he and Minho were still turned toward him, obviously as curious as Felix.

“I said I don’t know!” Chan wails, wilting further into Felix’s frame.

“How do you not know?” Minho questions incredulously. Felix gasps as he connects dots he’d been too excited to before.

“I didn’t even know my mark had changed before now,” Chan explains miserably, “I don’t even know exactly when the pain started.”

Jisung sucks in a hiss of air, sympathy splashed across his face. “Oh geeze,” he breathes out, “How many people have we met today alone?”

“Ok, well,” Felix interjects, “Not ideal, but we’ll figure it out!”

Minho turns his incredulous stare onto the optimistic man.

"How are we going to figure it out?" He demands, "Because there were tens of thousands of people in that stadium and I know every single one of us shook dozens of hands tonight."

Felix wilts a little bit even as Jisung comes to his defense, "We kind of have to figure it out, hyung," he points out, "And soon. We're back to Seoul soon."

"Okay but how?" Minho challenges, "And don't give me any 'with the power of love and fate' crap."

"We might have to rely on fate." Chan shrugs, dejected. "It's not like I have a description or anything to give out."

"It'll be okay Channie hyung," Felix pats Chan's back lightly from where they're still entangled together, "It'll have to be."

The van descends into silence as the four of them contemplate their new situation. After a few minutes Chan leverages himself up and out of Felix's embrace to frown aimlessly at his knees.

"Well," Felix breaks the silence, "We don’t have any more shows after this, and we have some days of break time, right?”

“Right,” Chan confirms, “We have tomorrow off and then we’re returning to Seoul to start working on the next album.”

“But officially,” Felix hedges, “We have, like, an entire week off, don’t we?”

“Not quite, but sure,” Chan hesitantly agrees.

“Well, we know they were in town for the concert at least,” Felix continues, “So as long as they didn’t leave the city immediately after, I mean, there's seven more first contacts to go, right?”

“Are you saying we should spend our break wandering around trying for first contacts?” Jisung asks, “Because I’m all for searching for them, but I don’t know that aimless wandering is gonna help.”

Chan holds up his hands to halt that conversation before it could devolve into a bigger debate.

“Let’s shelve that for now, and meet up with the others at the hotel,” He suggests, “We should discuss this as a group anyways.”

He receives a variety of agreements and the four of them settle in for the short remaining drive back to their hotel. He absently hands Felix’s phone back to him and retrieves his own from his pocket to ask the others to meet them in his room.

Chan looks out the window, post-concert fatigue all but a memory. As the buildings pass by, he can’t help but hope that their mystery soulmate was looking for them too.

You reaffirm your decision to never ever meet your soulmates as Taylor loads you into the car, arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder the whole way.

It was one thing when your stupidly large soul cluster was just an idea. Knowledge you held, but unactionable in any way.

It was another when you had evidence, in the form of little white flowers burning with warmth on your skin, that they were real, physical, people.

Even worse when you knew that they were a group of very famous musicians.

You hadn’t actually been sick when you’d texted Taylor, who’d thankfully managed to get all of the autographs he’d wanted before he’d checked his phone to try to find you, but you were getting there. Anxiety had nausea creeping up your throat like molasses.

You’re beyond grateful when your roommate doesn’t question your sudden illness, the both of you well aware that you were hale and hearty when you’d left the house.

Taylor just buckles you in like you’re something precious and fragile and takes the wheel.

The two of you drive in silence the entire way home. It’s not awkward, but you can’t deny the weight of something heavy in the air. The buzz of the concert still lingered between the two of you, and it only made the silence stifling and itchy.

When you pull into your apartment complex neither of you speak for a long moment.

“Sorry for ruining the day.” You murmur to the air in front of you. Taylor just reaches over to pat your thigh and unclip your seatbelt.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” He assures, “Don’t sweat it.” He hesitates a moment before continuing.

“I’m not gonna push,” Taylor begins gently, “But you know you can talk to me, right? Whatever happened, I’m not gonna judge. I just wanna be here for you.”

“What makes you think something happened?” You mutter mulishly. Taylor just gives you a look that has you sinking into your seat.

“It’s nothing. I’m just being dramatic.” You admit. He bumps your shoulder with his and climbs out of the car.

“It’s not nothing if it makes you feel something.” He tells you as he goes. The two of you walk up to the apartment in silence, contemplative this time.

You think about telling him as the two of you separate to wash the concert off of yourselves. You think about it as you take turns using the bathroom and as you make dinner side by side. You think about it as you settle in front of the couch at his feet as his hands automatically pull your head to his knees, his fingers digging into your hair just how you like.

You want to tell him, you decide. You do. It's just that. Well...

Your sister was right, in a way. You’d known Taylor for over a year now, but the two of you didn’t really know much about each other. You really were just roommates.

You didn’t know what his favorite color was. You didn’t know the names of his parents, or if he had any siblings. You barely knew what he did for a living. He’d only ended up your roommate by virtue of you responding to his “roommate wanted” ad with full willingness to be murdered on the spot.

At the same time, the two of you knew everything about each other. You knew how he took his coffee in the morning, that he preferred his eggs dry and over-seasoned. You knew the bands he liked and the games he played. You knew his hobbies better than you knew your own sometimes, and more about his friend’s drama that you ever wanted to.

You know the important things, you think.

You know that every word you tell him in confidence will be clutched tightly all the way to the grave.

“I met my soulmate today.” You confess, your cheek pressed to his knee, half-asleep.

The words somehow feel like they were snatched from the darkest depths of your soul as they spill from your lips. You make no move to take them back.

Taylor’s hand, to his credit, only pauses for a moment. Then he treats your hushed admission like any other comment made while you nod off to dramas the both of you know you only watch for him, resuming the soothing movement of his hand and humming lightly to acknowledge you.

You think it’s that casual treatment that lets you find the courage to continue.

“Well, one of them anyway.” You mumble. Taylor hums his interest, but doesn't take his eyes off of the screen and doesn’t stop petting your hair.

“I don’t want to meet them. There’s so many of them and only one of me, y'know? I don’t even know how to love myself, how am I supposed to love eight other people?” Taylor says nothing still, his eyes glued to an episode of a drama you know the two of you have already finished three times over.

“I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared they’ll fuck me up.” Your voice cracks as you breathe life into one of your deepest fears. You realize as you say it that you’ve never voiced these thoughts aloud before, even to yourself.

Tears prick at the back of your eyes when you admit, “I’m not ready for them. I don’t think I can be.”

Taylor finally gives in to the seriousness of the conversation and hauls you bodily up onto the couch. You go willingly, but with rag-doll limpness. He rearranges you to his liking and you find yourself in Gossip Position, sitting criss-cross facing him.

“First of all,” He starts in, his usual levity giving way to a seriousness you rarely see from him, “Don’t be mean to my best friend. I’ll hit you.” You ignore his threat in favor of the warm feeling in chest at hearing him call you his best friend.

Take THAT Ma! No friends your glorious behind.

“Secondly, you are literally the most loving person I have ever met in my life. You would fit the entire world in there if you could,” He pokes your chest, right above your heart, for emphasis, “So I’m not that surprised you have more than one soulmate.”

“I have eight though,” You argue, “Isn’t that weird?”

Taylor just shrugs. “I mean, yeah. But weird is basically your brand, so...” He trails off with a teasing smirk.

You shove him a bit in retaliation, but he just grabs your wrists to still you and continues speaking before you can argue.

“I don’t think eight soulmates is enough for you, honestly,” He muses, “I mean it when I say you’re the most loving person I know. I think you’d even try to take care of Danny if he needed you to.” The mention of Taylor’s very creepy second cousin sends a shiver down both of your spines.

The worst part is that you can’t even argue with him.

“But you know, even with eight soulmates, you don’t have to be with them.” Taylor suddenly switches tracks to reassure you, “They’re your soulmates sure, but you’re your own person. They’re for you, it’s not like they are you. You can live without, if you really want to.”

The two of you let that statement settle for a moment. He’s right, you know all too well. Still, the thought leaves a wad of uncomfortable and complicated feelings lodged in your throat.

After a moment’s pause, you break the silence.

“I have too many years of trauma and not enough therapy money to unpack everything I’m feeling right now.”

Taylor cracks first, and giggles come pouring out of the two of you. The joke wasn’t even funny, but you guessed the two of you had been serious for far too long.

Some minutes later, when the giggles finally die down and you return to watching Taylor’s show, you find yourself with your head on his shoulder.

“Whatever you decide, you know I’m here for you, right?” Taylor quietly picks up where the conversation had left off.

“Sure,” you agree, “Like I was there for you when you cried over a boy I told you wasn’t shit.” You completely deserve the elbow to the side you receive for that comment.

“Shut up, I’m being cheesy!” Taylor scolds with a laugh.

“I’m lactose intolerant!” You complain, but obligingly fall silent.

“Seriously,” Taylor insists, “I’ll be here every step of the way. Whatever you need.”

You wrap your arms around the one of his that you’re leaning on and give a gentle squeeze to show your appreciation. “Thanks Tay.” you murmur.

“Of course. You got me front row tickets to a SKZ concert, we’re ride or die whether you like it for not!” You poke his side to scold him for not being serious after just insisting that you be, but end up having to fight for your life when he immediately retaliates by trying to tickle you.

It takes the two of you quite a while to calm down again, Taylor smug in his victory. He holds your ankles in his lap like trophies of war as you stare at the ceiling. The quiet creeps back in quickly, so you speak.

“I’m just not sure what I want, I think.” You tell him, “I don’t want to meet them. But at the same time, I really do, y’know?”

Taylor nods, “Just let the universe do its thing.” he suggests, “If you’re meant to meet them now, you’ll meet them regardless of what you want. But after you meet them, it’s all up to you.”

You nod along, humming your acceptance of his advice. He’s right, again. You can’t really fight fate, even if you desperately want to. But even within that large restraint, you’re a human being with free will. The world is your oyster and all that.

You let your thoughts fade out and just listen to Taylor yap about the drama on the TV as he finally tunes back into it.

It’s nearly dawn when the two of you decide to turn in, post-concert jitters having deserted you and heavy conversations having taken their toll.

“Did you manage to get their name before you bolted?” Taylor asks out of nowhere as you’re walking to your respective rooms. “Your soulmate’s” He clarifies at your confused look.

“Oh, I didn’t need to.” You answer absentmindedly, already opening your door and dreaming of your cozy sheets. “It was Bangchan.”

You close your door on his gawping face, blissfully unaware of the crisis you’d just sent him into.

Perma Tag List: @Mbioooo0000

[sleepy-writes-stuff]

(short continuation to the prompt I wrote, which is linked below. I thought I was done with this, but then @victoria-has-no-secret and @bluerosefox had some ideas to incorporate into it. Screenshots of said ideas are also below but are sprinkled throughout the post too.)

(*) = Me building off of other ideas

TW: mentions of animal death

← previous

✦

After the whole fiasco with the Justice League, Danny gets an idea. Not very many people actually know about Laika, at least from what he could see of the majority of the Justice League who had never learned about her. Although, to be fair, a lot of them come from different planets. Either way, it gives Danny the idea to create a YouTube channel starring Laika to teach the people of Earth about the pup.

The channel immediately garners attention from all around the world, and even winds up on a couple of news stations too! It grows so much that Danny decides to expand further than just Laika, but to the other things that were sent into space in the quest for knowledge: The space rovers as well as many other animals.

Laika even leads Danny to them as he ventures further into space with a specially made camera that can withstand traversing space and the differing atmosphereic conditions of other planets. He manages to find every single one of them, discovering that maybe Laika hadn't been as alone as he'd first thought as he watches and records her playing with the spirits (imprints?) of the rovers, chimps, mice, and many other animals haunting the endless void of the cosmos.

People back on earth are going wild with the knowledge that their hopes, thoughts, and feelings helped to give life to beings that had long been dead/stopped working. They have no idea what to feel about this new information except an amalgamation of pure awe, curiosity, joy, guilt, and sadness. They still mourned the loss of Laika, the rovers, and everyone before and after them, but knowing that their existence wasn't completely lost soothed an ache many didn't know they carried with them when they were there to witness the beginning of such astronomical leaps in technology.

To also know that out of the many stars shooting across the sky, one of them might be Laika happily racing amongst the stars with her friends brought many to tears. At every opportunity, they wished for the sweet pup's happiness and the continuing health of their own furry companions down on Earth with them. They also wished that upon the eventuality that they have to part with their companions that maybe a few of them would join Laika and her friends in stars to keep them company for many years to come.

Although many of these wishes were heard by Desiree, she refused to touch such hopeful and well-meaning wishes for fear of twisting them in unseemly ways, allowing them to form on their own. The other ghosts among Danny's rouges even made a deal with each other to not interfere or attack the town when Danny was recording his videos out in space.

It was beyond bad manners to interfere with another ghost's obsession, after all.

✦

I'm gonna go cry some more. I've learned more about the progress of space exploration in the past couple hours than I probably should. This is the last thing I'm adding onto this prompt. If any of y'all wanna continue it, be my guest!

Notes:

(*) One more thing to add. Where are the ghost hunters/Guys in White during all of this? If they start making a fuss over Phantom and all the ghost animals, do they get a bunch of civilians raiding their government facilities and causing them bodily harm? What's happening with the Justice League? Are they sitting back and eating popcorn while all this goes down? Who knows. :)

[prodbymaui]

Happy Wife, Happy Life.

baby, take my hand. I want you to be my husband

PAIRING: lee donghyuck x reader

GENRE: porn without plot, husband!haechan, established relationship

WC: 1k+ words

WARNINGS: slight somnophilia, reader is pregnant, unprotected sex (I mean..), breeding kink

SYNOPSIS: Haechan decides it doesn't matter if he's tired-- waking up to you bouncing on his cock is worth it.

A/N: uh.. hi? I've been working on 2 fics these past few days, hence I wasn't able to post drabbles and ficlets. So I gave you this as a compensatory fic (?). anyways, happy reading!

The moment his wife fell asleep, he wasted no time in bathing himself and doing the same thing. Dealing with a furious boss, handling a meeting for a big project, checking the progress of each departments and the list goes on. Haechan's day, to say the least, could be defined as tiring and draining.

His deep slumber, however, was broken when he heard small whimpers seemingly around him. The instincts of being a husband rang inside him, immediately alarmed by the thought of you being in pain-- so he opened his eyes.

Haechan doesn't know whether to be thankful or otherwise as he met with a sight of his pregnant wife bouncing on his cock, hands forming fists in an attempt to hide your wails. Your husband cursed while you gasped, his hands gripped your thighs and steadied you above him, guiding and helping you to a more pleasurable and stable pace.

Maybe it's the hormones, the feeling of guilt of waking up your tired husband to fend your own desires was enough to prick tears in your eyes, lips quivering lightly when you couldn't afford to stop despite wanting to. ''I-I'm sorry, love.. I- ah!'' Your hips jerked, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and hands fell to hold on to the sides of Haechan's.

He spurted out profanities, wrapping his arms around you as he sat up to a more comfortable position, feet flat on the floor. ''Are you gonna cum, pretty?'' The gentle whispers against your ears contradicted the harsh meet of your and Haechan's hips, clashing feverishly as you both tried chasing a high.

Observing how your nose reddened, eyes glassy and lips pouted in an enticing way-- Haechan knew you've been riding him for a while. True to his guess, your mumbles of rants and cries proved him that you were indeed bouncing up and down on his dick not shorter then 5 minutes ago. ''Can't cum, can't--''

The whines was a music to his ears but as much as Haechan loved hearing you desperate for release on his cock, he wouldn't want to let his wifey to fend for herself, wouldn't he now? Of course, not without making you beg for it.

Panic raised inside you when the ache in your thighs became unbearable, your high slipping away from you just as fast as it came. You shook your head left and right, bracing yourself on Haechan's shoulders as you tried to chase the climax back, big globs of teardrops running on your face when pain overpowered the pleasure.

Lee Haechan, as cruel as he was, fucking laughed at your state. This man never failed to make sure that you knew he gets off of you being desperate, being needy for his big cock. If possible, his already hard length, got even harder at one of his favorite sight of yours. Eyes shut tightly, pussy glistening in arousal, begging him to fuck you with no remorse, to have his way on you for the sake of cumming.

Tilting your face up with a contrasting soft grip on your chin, he smirked. ''Beg,'' That's all he had to say for you to scramble on your words as you spat out the nastiest shits while sporting your best innocent face. Haechan loved that.

''Please fuck me, use me however you want. Wanna feel your cum inside me-- making me pregnant with your child. Want everyone to see who got my belly big and round. Fuck-- I'll do anything, please!''

It happened too quickly that you didn't had time to process his next actions because the next thing you knew, you were caged in Haechan's arms as he flipped your positions, laying you down gently on the mattress. Giving your stomach a last sweet kiss before plunging inside you and thrusting just how you like it, deep and rough.

The husband intertwined his hands with yours and pinned them above your head. With this, he had an hd view of how his wife's face was scrunched up in pleasure. The moans and cries shoot straight to his ears. His gaze went from the beautiful flush of your face to the plump boobs, hard nipples, untouched.

Wetting his lips, Haechan dove into the appetizing buds. Licking, sucking and nipping them as if he hadn’t had any meals for days. You had no choice but to take and take everything your husband has to offer.

Letting go of your hands, he moved his grip to the curves of your waist. He, then, leaned backwards and almost felt his cum shooting out as he witnessed the ethereal image you were presenting. ''Fucking hell.''

You're so beautiful like this-- all spread out for him, shining under the moonlight that was peeking through your bedroom's windows. So beautiful that he had to fasten his pace, give you pleasure more than you can take so he could see you glow in the best way you both loved so much.

And you're there, laying down, gripping the sheets and babbling about how much you love your husband's cock. Your body reacted to the immense pleasure, not knowing whether to pull away or meet the thrusts.

''Yeah, just like that, baby. Come for me-- come for me, my love.'' You cried out loudly that a complaint from the neighbors tomorrow was already guaranteed. A ring of white formed around the girth of Haechan red length, your pussy clamped down on him, determined to suck the cum out of him. Your begging and the constant clenches of your warm velvety walls were the ones that finally pushed him to edge, his semen filled you up as Haechan caught your lips in an intimate kiss, hoping that the amount of his love for you can be seen through it.

Deep breaths and giggles. It took more than a few minutes for the two of you to calm down. Haechan laid beside you after doing his duties as your lover, aftercare. With a wrap of his arms around your waist, Haechan murmured something about how you'll probably get attacked by your hormones again this morning and how you shouldn't feel guilty of using him just the way you liked.

Because he was yours, just as you were his.

Comes morning and there you were, under the sheets, smiling up to him so cheekily and innocently. As if you weren't holding his dick in your hands, as if you weren't just sucking him dry.

[katuschka]

His Sugar-Dusted Skin – Part 1

Jake Kiszka x reader 5.639 words (Part 1)

So, After some consideration, I decided to split this one in two, because a) I promised to post it this weekend and it's not finished yet, and b) it might me too long. December's been a bit chaotic and as I said before, I've been struggling a bit with this one. So let me know what you think. Any feedback is much appreciated!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): alcohol consumption and heavy intoxication, mentions of the death of a close person (retrospective), allusions to a potentially promiscuous behaviour, some strong language, the twins being assholes (kind of... they're still cute), Jake's happy trail, I think that's it for now...

Oh, life…

How ordinary and boring it can get when you stick to thinking that there aren’t any other options. As far as I remember, conformity never made sense to me. And as far as I remember, I was being raised and forced to embrace it. My mind surrendered for a while, but my vagrant soul just kept resisting. I never wanted to fit in. I always wanted to fly.

When I left home three years ago, I didn’t take much with me. My parents didn’t approve of my choices and the only person who would’ve supported me in my decisions was already gone. My beloved grandma. She was the disruptive force that kept me on my toes, always challenging me in the most loving way, knowing too well that it was exactly what I needed. She gave me my first guitar, too. Even though sclerosis made her homeward-bound, her dreams and fantasies always kept her wandering. I loved that. She was always there to spark my imagination and in return, I wanted to be her legs and eyes one day. When I was little, my friends used to call her fairy godmother. “Keep your sails up sweetheart, the wind is whimsical.” That’s what she used to say. “All you need is that air in your lungs and love in your heart.” 

“You must never leave me, oma,” I said to her once. “I need that love in my heart forever.”

“Someone else will fill it, darling,” she replied. “I’m only here to make sure it is open. But one day, you won’t need me anymore.”

When she died, I lost my only reason to stay there. The world was slowly getting to its feet again and it was my turn to do the same. I had dreams that simply couldn’t be fulfilled at home. My heart was aching for adventure. So I packed my bags, just like they sing in old songs, slung my guitar over my shoulder and hit the road. A vagabond chick. 

As I came to Tennessee, all I owned could fit in my barely drivable car: literally just a few dresses, my phone, my modest savings, my old six string, my treasured voice and THE recipe. Aaaah, those were the days…

Who am I kidding? It was pretty rough at first. VERY rough, to be honest. I cried many nights. But the one thing my parents had taught me was to save money, and that helped me survive the first months, when I waited tables during the day and sang my ass off after dark. 

Many people never make it. Hell, even though I’m an optimist, I have to admit that most don’t. If you’re not strong willed and immune to shit, you’re most certainly destined to fail. I’ve seen way too many extra talented and broken people on my journey, just because they were too nice or too naive. Well, I’m not naive, but I’m definitely not a cold bitch either. I think I just got lucky, because I had my guardian angel with me the whole time. When she was still walking on earth, she absolutely loved the Beatles, With a Little Help from My Friends being her favorite song. My childhood memories are filled with those songs and how she sang along, and I believe that it was her doing that eventually turned this tune into the soundtrack of my life. I met a lot of fantastic people on my arduous journey towards my goals and dreams, and that’s how I got by. 

As a token of my gratitude, I baked cookies for them. My grandma’s famous linzer cookies. THE recipe. Fast forward a few years, I still keep doing that at Christmas. Apart from the fact that my friends simply demand it, it’s also my way of keeping her alive, to make myself feel like she’s still here with me… in a way. 

Back home, the whole neighborhood loved her art of baking. Me being her only granddaughter, she literally forced me to learn how to bake those linzer cookies – her own recipe, to be precise. Every time I rolled my eyes, while making annoyed noises, blowing raspberries and just being a little asshole about it in general, she simply smiled and said that one day I’ll thank her. Why – I asked – and she responded that one day it would bring me love. “Love goes through the stomach, my dear. Look at your grandpa. See how huge it is?” And then he smiled and kissed her hair and it always made me believe her.

Except it didn’t happen. At least not yet. It – however – gave me a semblance of home that I consciously chose not to have, but sometimes missed. 

Just last year, I decided to continue with the tradition my grandma  started back at home. “Love is a reciprocal game, my dear,” she said. “You get what you give, but do not lose yourself in giving.” 

They want my sweets? Fine! But let them show me how much. They have to “earn” it. At the beginning of December, I give my friends custom-made Christmas greetings, and if they want to receive their own little box of cookies, they have to send back a card of their own making. The first time was a success, and I ended up baking sweets for eleven people. And it didn’t stop there, as it earned me nine bottles of wine, a flacon of my favorite perfume and  a ukulele. All I really wanted was a thank you, but hey! I won’t say no to wine! So I decided to do it again, and this time I received seventeen cards, including three “masterpieces” from the members of the infamous Greta Van Fleet! Yeah, that’s right. While I still feel like I’m barely making it sometimes, I move in high-ish circles. El-oh-el. 

I met Daniel first, through a mutual friend, at one of the music clubs we frequented. He was actually one of the eleven buddies that helped me restart this Christmas tradition. Later I learned that he selflessly shared his portion with the rest of the group during a rehearsal he went to right after he dropped by at my place, and that’s how I got invited to one of their semi-private dinners. Dan kindly introduced me as “Joni”, which earned me two “woos” and one ironic smirk. To be fair, I didn’t like it either. It actually made me cringe, because the woman is an unattainable role model, but it was just Daniel being himself, aka the nice guy. Bless his soul. 

I went from an acquaintance with useful skills to a drinking buddy, because I’m good at that too. One of my less admirable strengths, but there are times when it comes in handy. Especially when a Johnny Depp wannabe from Middle-earth wants to outsmart you…

A year flew by and it was time to extend my offer to Sam and Josh, who made sure I wouldn’t forget them. Don’t ask me how. The video they sent me definitely had the potential to go viral. I wholeheartedly appreciate how much they trust me not to do that. 

They wouldn’t stop there, though. I had to laugh when I received their own precious hand drawn contributions. How sweet. They’re all so sweet actually… well, all except Jake. Aloof, taciturn and arrogant, that’s how he rolls. I’m pretty sure he just can’t stand me, because while he often laughs with others, he only ever laughs at me. His opinion on my baking goes hand in hand with what he thinks about my playing, preferring darker and more spicy shit, as he once put it. Well, whatever. He’s a colossal prick. 

It’s quite unfortunate that I’ve also had a colossal crush on him for quite some time now. As I said, I’m a vagabond chick, and he happens to possess all the right shit to lure me. Like a moth to a flame. And I got burned. 

See, oma? Not working. 

Well, I’m not the one to cry over guys, so I’m not going to lose my sleep over that. He can go fuck himself. (Someone else can do it. I swear he needs it.). 

Seventeen packages meant I was going to spend most of the Friday evening as well as the whole Saturday slaving in my kitchen. Thankfully, I really do enjoy doing this, so it’s simply an essential part of Christmas festivities. A good time spent with me, myself and Ella Fitzgerald. It’s still quite a lot of work though. 

Friday was just about making dough. It might seem easy, but you need to understand that in order to make enough cookies for 17 (!) people, I needed more than 5 lbs of flour, 3 lbs of butter, nearly 24 ounces of sugar, 23 egg yolks and zest from 6 lemons! I will say no more to protect the family secret, but you can see it takes a lot of effort just to put this all together. I take this very seriously. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. 

It had to be perfect. 

But alas! I couldn’t have known that one malicious and horny sprite who wanted me to spoil him with my art of baking was also going to sabotage my efforts in the most peculiar way. 

Once finished, I covered the dough with plastic wrap and put it in the fridge to let it rest overnight before I hopped in the shower to wash off the sweaty sugar crust that seemed to stick to every inch of my exposed skin. It was almost midnight when I finally managed to climb in bed, pleasantly exhausted and happy, only to be woken up by a frantic doorbell noise at around two am. A normal person would just freak out in such a situation, but knowing who that might be, I was already pretty much used to it as I lived nearest to their favorite bar. Our favorite bar, to be precise. 

Over time, they came to an agreement that my tiny apartment was a perfect place for nightcaps, the only problem being that the Kiszkas were usually quite loud about it, completely ignoring the fact that I had neighbors. Thankfully, this part of town is a bit specific in a sense that the said neighbors simply didn’t give a shit, with their own lifestyle not being much different. 

This is what I wanted. Friends, late night laughs, my life filled with music and hugs and kisses and peculiar outcomes of unpredictable events that could only lead to more hugs and kisses. 

There was this one time when Josh fell asleep on my couch while the others simply sneaked away giggling and left him there, spread-eagled and snoring his uvula off. Several hours later, I was woken up by the delicious smell of buttermilk waffles, served with maple syrup and a guilty, puppy dog stare. 

Simply put, they were (almost) always welcome here. Almost…

Sober, sleepy and disoriented, I was definitely in no mood for a late night party (or an early morning one… seriously Josh, wtf!), with all the baking lying ahead of me. I didn’t even have to guess if it was really them; I could already hear them the moment my heart calmed down a bit and I stepped out of my bedroom. Determined to chase them away with a rolling pin, I answered the door angrily and was nearly knocked down by the falling Oliver Reed who obviously decided to lean against it the very moment I yanked it open. 

It’s always intrigued me how the brain works in these situations, working so fast that the time seems to slow down to an almost comical pace. I watched in slow motion how his back slid against the wood, his arms flapping in the air in a futile attempt to regain balance. I could tell at the first fleeting glance that he wasn’t fit to keep his balance standing, let alone falling, so no wonder it was a completely lost cause. Some voice at the back of my skull tried to tell me to jump aside, but I was too mesmerized by the sight. Just when his shoulder hit me clumsily in the chest and I stumbled backwards, Josh finally managed to grab Jake’s arms to keep him from knocking me down completely. My rolling pin fell on the wooden floor with a loud bang that made my neighbor’s dog bark. Jake, now aggressively pinned against the corridor wall by Josh, only added to the ear-piercing nocturnal cacophony with his loud howls: “Whoa whooooa!” 

“Shhh, shut the fuck up, Jake!” Josh hissed through his teeth before he turned his concerned stare back at me. “Y/N, sweetheart, terribly sorry hun! Didn’t mean too…” I could tell that he was tipsy as well, but it paled in comparison with the state Jake was in. I had seen him drunk many times before, with his glossy, beady eyes and unfocused stare that always made him look a bit like a teddy bear. This was new, though. He seemed absolutely plastered. 

Out of the imminent danger, but with my heart still wildly pumping adrenaline-enriched blood into my veins, I grabbed the doorframe first to support myself before I tried to make sense of what was just happening in front of me. 

They weren’t alone. Right behind Josh stood a guy whom I had seen a few times before, but I couldn’t recall his name. He looked slightly uncomfortable. “What the fuck, Josh!?!” I hissed. 

Josh immediately tried to win me over with the most sheepish smile he could muster, but his involuntarily cocked eyebrow betrayed him, which only made me more furious. “Dearest Y/N, we need your help, baby!” 

“With what? I asked incredulously. 

“I need you to take care of my asshole brother, pretty pleeeease.” 

“You what?” I goggled at him, completely taken aback by his impudent request. “Why can’t you just take him home?” Much to Jake’s annoyance, we kept discussing him and his imminent future as if he wasn’t even there, which only resulted in another outburst of his loud and incoherent babbling and our collective attempt to shush him before Josh answered.

“Because, I am not planning on going home, honey,” he whisper-shouted, hoping that I would just get it without him having to be too obvious. Yeah, I got it. It didn’t mean I was willing to help him. I looked at the guy again, who suddenly pretended to be very interested in the hallway lights. At that moment, the owner of the barking dog opened his own door to passionately inform us what we all were. I had no other choice than to hastily usher them all in.

“You can’t leave him here just like that? Are you out of your mind? Is this some kind of retribution for what he did the last time? Because it’s not funny. This is my home, and not a fucking sobering center! Just call him an uber,” I continued to protest once we were all safely inside my apartment, and that’s when Jake chimed in for the first time with something that made at least a bit of sense: “Yeah, ah-don’ wanna…,” he hiccupped before he could finish the sentence, making me even more incensed with the whole situation. He quickly tried to amend it, but it was too late. I was seething, my nostrils flaring. “...bother-er. Ah-don’ wanna bother-er! She’s…fierssshe!” he spat in Josh’s face, making him scrunch his face in disgust. 

“Well, you should have thought about not bothering people before you got so shitfaced,” Josh spat back, completely ignoring what I just said. “This is your doing.”

What? I shot a deadly stare at Josh. No, it was absolutely not Jake’s doing that they were now standing in my living room. And regardless of the fact that I had work to do – and he knew that – he also knew how I felt about Jake, and was now putting me in a very uncomfortable position. “Out! All of you!” 

I’m pretty sure I must have looked like Wrath personified, because Jake whoa’ed again and Josh seemed to finally acknowledge his misconduct. He grabbed my hands in his, suddenly looking like a meek puppy. “I’m sorry, babe. Don’t be mad, hun. I know this is too much to ask, but do this for a friend. I beg you…”

“No, I beg you Josh!” I tried to sound as calm and collected as possible through my gritted teeth, knowing that being just mad would get me nowhere. Josh was too stubborn to ever acknowledge someone else’s anger and boundaries meant nothing to him once you became his friend, which basically meant family. However, he was empathetic. “You know I have a lot of baking to do tomorrow. I’m tired. Just please, take him home.”

Josh bit his lip and he looked like he was trying to say something and NOT say it at the same time. It was late and I felt awfully tired, but the whole thing seemed a bit fishy to me. Just when Josh nodded and finally opened his mouth to respond, Jake grabbed his shoulder. “Ah need to pee, Jawshy boy,” he whined and swayed dangerously, pouting his lips at his twin brother. He was already in his teddy bear phase which meant that he indeed wasn’t fit to be sent home alone in an uber. He’d be knocked out in no time, and even if Josh went with him, he’d have a hard time just getting him out of the car. 

Josh glanced sideways at the guy, who had been pretending to be invisible the whole time, and then looked at me pleadingly again. I capitulated. “OK, take that big baby to the bathroom and I’ll fetch some blankets,” I sighed. 

Together, they helped Jake get comfy on the couch and he fell asleep before his head even touched the pillow. And me? I felt relieved when I finally closed the door behind them and everything became quiet again, disturbed only by Jake’s light snoring.

They were taking their time, so once I fixed the makeshift bed, it was just me and the guy standing in the middle of the room, waiting, and it was getting increasingly awkward with each passing second. “So, you’re Y/N,” he finally spoke.

“Yeah,” I answered curtly, confirming the obvious. “We’ve met.”

“But we weren’t properly introduced yet. I’m Martin.” I shook Martin’s hand politely without really wanting to, because I knew that if they were heading to his place instead of Josh’s, it probably meant that the chances I’d see Martin again were quite low. Yet another reason for me being annoyed. 

I poured him a large glass of water, squeezed some fresh lemon juice into it and placed it carefully on a small table right next to his head before I switched off the light, leaving just a small table lamp on, and went back to my bed, hoping to spend the rest of the night in peace and get some much needed rest. 

However, the fact that there was Jacob Kiszka, Sir, lying unconscious on my couch right outside my bedroom door, made it a bit difficult to fall back to sleep. I had never been in a situation like this and it made me feel unpleasantly agitated. I wasn’t afraid of him. I just didn’t trust my own feelings. 

I should have been angry. 

But I was not. Not exactly. Not anymore. My heart wasn’t beating wildly out of annoyance. Instead, I felt like a schoolgirl, trapped in an elevator with that annoying boy from music class who was also her crush. There were many conflicting feelings inside both my head and chest; and knowing that he probably wouldn’t remember how he ended up on my couch come morning only made it all worse. 

I finally dozed off, but morning came sooner than I wished it would, and with it a headache. It felt like just a brief moment, filled with restless dreams about me and Jake dancing on the rooftop to Golden Slumbers playing out of nowhere, with sugar snowing down at us and our hands sticky with jam. Then he smeared some on my cheek and peppered it with kisses…

When I opened my eyes, the feeling still lingered, like powdered sugar on the top of my tongue. Soft and weightless like snowflakes, yet it lay heavily on my chest. Together with the lack of rest, it made me feel almost hungover-ish. I lied unmoving for a while, listening to the silence that surrounded me and wondering whether he was still there. Maybe he already woke up earlier and quickly sneaked out after realizing where he was. 

It was unlikely, but I could hardly ever control these self-deprecating thoughts. Especially regarding men. I cursed Josh once again and decided to take a quick cold shower to wake up my senses.

It helped only just a bit. Refreshed, I opened my bedroom door carefully and peaked inside the living room. He was still there, and fast asleep. Slowly, I creeped up on him on my tiptoes, and then spent several long seconds just watching him sleep, before I started to feel like a complete lunatic. But… he looked so peaceful and almost angelic in the milky morning light, lying on his side with his hands folded under his chin, his lips parted and brows relaxed. The glass was empty, and I couldn’t help but smile involuntarily. Once there was a way to get back homeward…

Then I remembered that this was no domestic idyl. I just had a drunk rock guitarist on my couch, and – let’s be brutally honest here – once I got past that dreamy visual illusion, a strong olfactory reminder of this much more prosaic reality hit my nostrils. 

I also had several large chunks of dough in the fridge and a debilitating headache that almost made me question all my life choices.

No, it didn’t.

But all those things had to be taken care of and I had no idea how. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse at first, but after realizing that it could take at least a couple more hours before he’d wake up, maybe even half a day – the time that I couldn’t afford to waste – I took Josh’s previous advice and decided to just ignore him. 

I really needed coffee… to get the stupid dream, and the song, and all my delusions out of my head. Did I forget that he was also a big-headed asshole? Yeah, that’s the spirit. 

It turned out that my worries were groundless anyway. I could make as much noise as possible in my adjacent kitchenette and he wouldn’t even stir. The motherfucker really seemed to be losing his hearing from standing in front of those huge amplifiers and the malicious creature inside my chest chuckled at the thought. 

I took the dough out of the fridge and let it soften at room temperature while I made myself some coffee and started to get everything ready. Clanking of baking sheets, coffee grinder, squeaking cabinet doors…nothing seemed to disturb my sleeping beauty. I kept casting wary glances at him every now and then at first, but soon I got accustomed to the unusual situation and just immersed myself in my work. 

I had my very elaborate system. I could fit twenty cut pieces – meaning ten cookies – on one sheet, there was roughly enough dough for approximately thirty sheets, it takes ten minutes to bake AND I had only four sheets. You can see I had to be very systematic. Preparation is the key and every minor disturbance could be disastrous. Thankfully, I’m a master multitasker. Still, I prayed to all the known and yet to be made-up deities that nothing would happen. No more surprises, please and thank you. 

A few hours passed and the delicious aroma of lemon and vanilla started to fill the room. I was also sweating like a pig, rolling and cutting the dough in haste, always making sure I had enough sheets ready so that there would be no idle time. Focused on the task ahead, I didn’t hear him stir, and my heart jumped in my throat when I finally looked up and saw those beady eyes watching me intently. 

I tried to keep my cool, looking down again quickly. “Well, good morning,” I mumbled. It was almost midday. 

“Morning, Y/N…,” he choked out huskily and finally tried to stand up, which only resulted in him groaning in pain and slumping back immediately. Oh yeah, consequences…

“Do you remember how you got here?” I asked tentatively. 

“I wish I could say I do, but to be honest, I’ve no idea,” he breathed out with his eyes closed. “I was just hanging out with Josh and the next thing I know I’m lying on your couch at blue hour, feeling half dead.” He finally opened at least one eye, just enough to be able to see me.

I nodded and continued cutting the dough. I wasn’t going to make it any easier for him. The timer just chimed and I had to switch the sheets anyway. 

“So?” 

Did I just hear annoyance and impatience in his voice? Oh yeah, a hungover asshole is still an asshole. It shouldn’t have surprised me. “What?” I spat back over my shoulder.

“Care to explain what the fuck I’m doing here?” 

I don’t understand how he always managed to just smash all my buttons with one single blow, and once again he made me see red. I literally threw the next sheet in the oven and slammed the door shut with a loud bang before I turned around and lashed out at him. 

“Oh I wish I knew the answer. Be so kind and ask your precious brother who literally just pushed you through my door in the middle of the night, half-conscious and reeking of whisky, because he wanted to get laid. You’re welcome! Fucker…”

He blinked a few times, obviously taken aback. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.” The tone of his voice changed and for a split second I almost regretted my curtness. Almost. “Just let me call an uber and I’ll be out of here in no time,” he mumbled, checking his pocket, while I watched him struggle with secret satisfaction. That headache must have been hellish. Good. At least I wasn’t the only one. 

He suddenly frowned and started rummaging in all his pockets frantically, including the jacket haphazardly thrown over the armrest. “Where the hell is my phone… and my valet… and my fucking keys. Y/N…did you take my stuff?” 

“What? No! The last thing I’d wanna do would be to prevent you from leaving.”

We were watching each other warily, both equally confused. Then it dawned on him. “I’m gonna kill that scrawny little bastard!” Straightening up, he closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath in a futile attempt to fight off his growing nausea as well as the rage that made his nostrils flare. 

My anger dissipated in an instant… or, to be more precise, it was instantly redirected towards his twin. “I don’t understand. Why would he do that? He knows how busy I am today,” I whined. 

Jake didn’t respond. Instead, he asked for my phone. I quickly dialed Josh’s number and handed it to Jake, because the timer chimed again. 

It went straight to voicemail. 

As I was stacking freshly baked pieces on a tray placed on the small kitchen island which also served as my dining table, Jake leaned against it right opposite to me, looking absolutely miserable. “What now?” 

Am I their mother or what? I couldn’t drive him, but even if I did, he still didn’t have his keys. I couldn’t even call him an uber to Josh’s, because I knew that scrawny little bastard wasn’t there. It became obvious that Jake was stuck with me for at least another couple hours. He kept watching, obviously still waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t answer. Instead, I just sighed and grabbed the rolling pin again, aggravated with both of them and feeling like their hostage, stuck in the middle of their infantile games. The time was ticking, with my perfectly planned schedule already disrupted.

“Let me at least help you,” he looked at me hopefully with those puppy eyes they both shared. Fuckers. Seriously. Quirks of the mischievous nature that at one point decided that one of them wasn’t enough. 

“I think you should take a shower first.”

It was a deliberate jab, and I expected him to retort back just like he always did. I did NOT expect him to widen his eyes in genuine horror. “Is it that bad?” 

I didn’t dare answer that question but my face betrayed me when I looked at him sideways and bit my lip. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and took one tentative whiff. “Oh my god, it is. I think I need more than a shower, actually. I smell as if I slept in a puddle of beer.” 

I immediately regretted that I let him sleep on my couch, but he looked completely bashful and embarrassed and my previous unwillingness to continue helping him was already in shambles.

“Ok,” I sighed and put down the cookie cutter. “Come with me. I have some spare sweatpants. Thankfully, my ass is just as big as yours, but it might be a bit too tight around the waist…”

“Excuse me?” he protested, but otherwise obediently followed me into my bedroom. 

“You’re right. My mistake. Yours is bigger,” I chuckled at my own joke while rummaging in my drawer, before throwing him a pair of my favorite grey sweatpants, an old, oversize flannel shirt and a clean towel. “Everything else you might need is in the bathroom. The washing machine’s down in the basement.” 

“Thank you. Uummm…do you, perhaps, have a spare toothbrush? For friends... and such?” He smiled cheekily, testing my patience once again. But to be fair, he couldn’t have known that there was a shortage of “and such” people ever since I met him, because I just wasn’t interested in anyone else for a while now. 

“Yeah, there’s a couple of them in the purple cabi… oh fuck!” I quickly excused myself, alarmed by the smell of something burning, because I forgot to set the timer…

Too busy trying to stave off the impending disaster in my kitchen, I barely noticed him sneaking around me on his way down to the basement. So, when he knocked on the door a moment later and I answered it, the sight in front of me threw me completely off-guard. Being no stranger to Jake’s exposed chest, there was a strange sense of novelty in seeing him in my own unbuttoned shirt. Paul started singing inside my head again, but only until my eyes involuntarily slid further down, putting the song to an abrupt stop, just like a torn magnetic tape.

I was right about the waist being too tight, which meant he had it pulled down well below his navel, and seeing his happy trail made me scream internally. 

And to top it all off, he still had the towel wrapped around his head. 

I was not prepared for the feral reaction he suddenly elicited deep inside my body, and I’m sure he noticed, judging by the cocky half-smile that followed. I quickly turned away before I would compromise myself further. 

“I made you some coffee,” I nodded towards the steaming cup waiting for him on the counter, while still not daring to look directly at him again. “... and there are some popsicles in the freezer.”

“Thank yo… popsicles?!?” I might as well have suggested cotton candy, judging by the look he gave me, making me feel like an idiot,  so I quickly explained: “Yeah, they’re perfect when you wanna get rid of a hangover. Orange’s my favorite.” I still felt like an idiot. 

“I’m feeling better now.” His tone was kind and friendly, for which I was grateful, and I could hear him smiling, with my eyes still fixed on the small yellow circles in front of me. “I think I’m getting a bit hungry, though.”

“I’m not cooking anything now, Jake!” I placed the last little yellow circle on the sheet with care, before I started kneading another chunk of dough frantically.

“No, I didn’t mea…”

“There’s instant ramen on the top shelf.”

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Yeah, whatever.”

“What are YOU going to eat, Y/N?”

“I don’t have time for such luxuries right now…”

“Y/N!” He was leaning against the counter desk right in front of me again. I hadn’t even noticed him sneaking so close again, so his sudden exclamation made me jump. “You have to eat something. Look, your hands are shaking.” 

Yeah, no shit. But I’m not exactly hungry. There was a huge lump in my stomach, making it quite full. I was getting lost in the sea of my conflicting feelings again when all of the sudden, he put an abrupt stop to it like a fierce wave that sent me crashing on the shore, as he lifted my chin up gently with his index and middle finger. “Look at me, Y/N. I am going to fix us a quick lunch, ok?” 

“Ok…,” I peeped meekly. 

Jake just nodded, bound his damp, uncombed hair in a makeshift low bun with the band he always wore on one his fingers just in case, and started rummaging in my fridge. “Allrighty then! What do we have here…,” he crooned cheerfully.

And just like that, Paul was back… lalalalala.

To be continued...

@thewritingbeforesunrise @fleet-of-fiction @writingcold @lvnterninthenight @its-interesting-van-kleep   @takenbythemadness   @edgingthedarkness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @josh-iamyour-mama @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf @peaceloveunitygvf @cheersdannyx2 @fleetingjake @lizzys-sunflower @emojakekiszka @gvfmarge @Dayumclarizzel @lipstickittty @clownstarr @gretasfallingsky @musicislove3389 @i-love-gvf @psychedelectable @allof--mylove @sacredsparrow @hearts-hunger

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Impulse

AN: Um so, I wasn't supposed to post this, let alone be working on this, today. I blame @majestyjun for violently tossing me back into severe Beomgyu brainrot and, my brain produced this in a few hours as a result. I have 6 other fics I've been actively working on and this is what I did instead. ONE OF THEM IS EVEN A TXT FIC. Either way, enjoy the fruit of my suffering.

Synopsis: After two weeks of no sex while visiting your parents, Beomgyu is beyond frustrated. You completely empathise with your boyfriend but, you're determined to tough it out. You fail to consider just how persuasive Beomgyu can be.

Heads up: Choi Beomgyu x Fem! Reader, established relationship, mostly pwp, dirty talk, pet names, incredibly mild degradation (f. receiving), risky sex, fingering (f. receiving), Monster dick! Beomgyu agenda, Pussy whipped! Beomgyu (is this going to become a thing lol?), Dick whipped! Reader, unprotected piv sex, breeding kink and creampie.

Word count: 1807

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Beomgyu," you chastise when you feel your boyfriend's hand sneak its way up your tank top.

"I can't help it. You just look so hot and you feel so soft. It's been for fucking ever," he groans against your neck, leaving goosebumps in his wake. You pointedly ignore the dull ache you feel between your thighs.

"I know, baby but, we're just here for one more week," you respond sympathetically. It's not as though you don't understand his frustration. If anything, it resonates with you a little too deeply. So many mornings of waking up to him hard and hot and pressed against your thigh have really been testing your own sanity. Having to push down your baser instincts as you get out of bed and get ready to spend another day with your family.

None of this is helped by how needy Beomgyu has been as the days with no sex tick by. Desperate, messy make-out sessions before bed and one night of a quick blowjob not nearly enough for either of you. However, he's been trying to tempt you more and more in recent days, and your fragile composure is dangerously close to shattering.

"I can't do this for another week," he whines, his fingers toying with one of your already hard nipples. Before you can chastise him again, he grinds his fully hard cock against your ass and, words completely fail you.

You bite your bottom lip in an attempt to silence the moan that bubbles up from the action and the sensation of his fingers pinching your sensitive nipple. Instinct is what makes you press your ass back into him, and Beomgyu seems to lose it at that.

"You want this just as badly as I do. Don't worry, baby. We'll be quiet. Make sure noone hears," he whispers while his hand finds itself in your sleeping shorts, and more specifically, your panties.

"Fuck. Shit. You're already wet," he practically moans when he first comes into contact with your pussy. Expert fingers rubbing circles against your clit in the way he knows will render you little better than a whimpering mess.

You try your best to silence your sounds against the pillow. Fingernails digging into his forearm while he rubs your clit and grinds against your ass in search of some sort of relief. You accidentally bite your tongue when he pushes two of his stupidly long fingers inside of you.

"Wanna fuck you so badly. You're so wet and tight and warm," he breathes behind you while his fingers stretch you out. A slightly louder cry flies from your lips when he sinks a third finger into you. Beomgyu doesn't give you much time to get used to the intrusion. Curling his fingers mercilessly inside of you while his filthy mouth keeps going.

"Fuck, I missed this. Missed feeling your pussy. Can't wait to feel you around my cock," he groans, his thumb rubbing fast circles on your clit this time around. Your thighs begin to quiver violently, and you feel the knot in your core tightening with each one of his ministrations. You're embarrassingly close already.

"Are you gonna cum for me, baby? Huh? Already? That's so hot. You're so hot. Please cum for me. I wanna feel you cum."

Between his words and fingers, you never stood a chance. You shove your face deeper into the pillow in an attempt to muffle your whimpers and moans when you do eventually fall apart on his hand. Your mind is too dazed to be certain, but you're pretty sure you can hear Beomgyu still talking. For the life of you, you can't make out what his saying though. Tremors still wreaking havoc on your body as he slowly fingers you through it all.

You haven't cum this hard and quickly in what feels like ages. The one time you caved and touched yourself in the shower a few days ago not coming anywhere close to this. Beomgyu might've seriously spoiled you for anyone else. Even yourself, apparently.

"Baby," you eventually hear him whine desperately against your shoulder as he grinds against your ass more aggressively now. Looks like seeing and feeling you cum did quite the number on him.

"I know, Gyu," you soothe, rubbing his forearm, "I can suck you off," you offer.

You feel him shake his head behind you. Jolting slightly when his fingers move inside of you before he speaks, "I wanna fuck you," he says, the throatiness in his voice making you clench around him instinctively.

This is incredibly stupid and risky but, you're already so far gone and you miss feeling him inside of you.

"Okay."

That's how you find yourself with your face in one of the pillows and your ass in the air for him. Anticipation and desire mixing into a heady cocktail in your system as you hear him shuffling behind you. You'd love to see his face. Beomgyu always makes the most attractive faces but, you're just happy to be getting fucked in general.

You gasp softly when you feel his cock prod at your soaking entrance. Wetness smearing your inner thighs and likely coating his tip. You imagine you're making quite the sight right now. Beomgyu, never one for shyness when it came to you, admitted that one of the reasons taking you from behind is so enjoyable to him is the view he gets.

"You're dripping onto my dick, princess," he whispers, running his cock along your slit and letting your juices cover him. "Beomgyu, don't tease," you respond, meeting his lidded gaze over your shoulder.

You're not sure what he sees on your face but, evidently it's enough to finally get him to push into you. He hasn't even started yet and you already find yourself biting down on the pillow and clawing at the sheets beneath you. Your pussy definitely feels that it's been two weeks without feeling him inside of you. The stretch stinging more than it usually would.

"Relax for me, baby," he coos softly, his thumbs soothingly rubbing your hips as he slowly eases into you. You try your best to. Tears accumulating in the corners of your eyes as he sinks inch after inch into you. God, it feels otherworldly. Even with the slight pain that comes along with feeling him pulse inside of you.

"Fuck," he groans when you take initiative and push yourself back until he's completely sheathed inside of you. The grip he has on your hips becoming bruising as you both try to catch your breaths and regain some semblance of composure.

Your thighs are already shaking, and you let out small whimpers and moans just from feeling him bottom out. His tip brushing against places you still can't comprehend exist sometimes despite being with him for months now. Beomgyu, for his part, seems to be struggling more than you currently. His cock throbbing violently inside of you as he grits out curses and groans between his laboured breathing.

"You little slut. I could've cum," he moans and god, you really wish you could see his face. Before you can fire back a retort, he pulls back before thrusting back into you. The drag of his girthy cock along your walls dissolving your mind into a puddle. One thrust, and you were already a drooling mess.

You're not the only one affected if his strangled moan is anything to go by. His pace picking up considerably once he's sure you've mostly adjusted to him. You pray to whatever deity is willing to listen that the walls of your childhood bedroom are decent. There's no way you two could silence the sounds of skin slapping against skin even if you tried.

He doesn't give you a moment to catch your breath. His cock splitting you open over and over again while all your body can think to do is fist the sheets and take it.

"So wet and tight around my dick," he moans as quietly as he can manage, "Missed this pretty pussy." You feel him spread your ass to seemingly get a better view. A breathy 'fuck' and a particularly brutal thrust confirming your suspicions.

You can tell he's close. He was barely hanging on by a thread when he eased into you but, the uncoordinated nature of his thrusts and increase in sounds tell you all you need to know.

Taking all the energy and brain power you have, you look at him once more over your shoulder, "Beomie, I ah want you to cum insi-inside me pl-please," you whine. The glazed look in his eyes is replaced by something more dangerous. Something more feral. You walls tighten around him in anticipation, and a shiver runs down your spine.

His arms wrap around you while he fucks into you faster, chasing his own release. "Yeah? Does my baby want my cum? Want me to cum inside until it's dripping out of you?" He asks darkly against your ear, nipping the lobe in the process. You're sure he could tell at this point in your relationship but, fuck you love it when he gets like this. You weren't sure if you could cum again but, he certainly is trying to get you there.

"Ye-yes, please. Wa-want it. I need i-it," you whimper in response, a few tears rolling down your heated face.

"Ah fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Your pussy is gonna make me cum," he moans, his cock pulsing incessantly while his thrusts become sloppier and sloppier. "You're gonna take it like a good girl, yeah? Take all of it. Let me breed this pretty pussy until you're filled with nothing but, my cum," he rambles bordering on delirious. His words making you grip him even tighter, "Yes Beomie, please please please."

That does it for him.

His broken whines and moans flood your ears while his cock pulses inside of you. His tip feeling as though it's kissing your cervix with how deeply he's nestled in your pussy. He holds onto you like a lifeline as he rides out his release, his warm cum filling you to what seems like the brim.

For a moment, all that can be heard is your laboured breathing. Beomgyu sagging against you as you two crumple onto the bed.

"Maybe we should wait weeks to have sex more often. That was so fucking hot," he mutters against your shoulder and you valiantly resist the urge to roll your eyes.

"Do you really want to go weeks without having sex again?"

"... Fair point," he responds sheepishly.

You do snort at that. Shaking your head good-naturedly at him.

"So, can we do it again?"

"Beomgyu, you just came,"

"Yeah but, I'll be ready to go in like 20 minutes,"

You love your boyfriend's stamina but, it really was a double-edged sword at times.

[hearts4golbach]

could you write something about reader and johnnie related to the line 'he love me but he fucks me like he hates my guts' from the song yummy? ty 💕💕

Tease.

Johnnie Guilbert x Fem!Reader.

warnings: use of ma, baby, mama, love, babe, slut, cheating, rough sex, unprotected sex (please use protection lol), overstimulation, implied hair pulling.

third person.

Johnnie had never thought of you as anything more than his best friend. maybe he had thought about you late at night, biting his tongue so as not to wake up jake in the room over, but never past that. he had always shooed away the thought, anyway.

ever since his past girlfriend, he had refused to ever think of another person romantically. although, he had acknowledged from time to time how funny, kind, and beautiful you were. he admired you in a friend way, he told himself.

although, whenever you had posted a selfie laying in your bed in the cutest outfit he had ever seen, it made him rethink your relationship.

he thought about the way your face lit up brighter than the sun when you saw him and the way your hand would purposefully graze him every chance you got. how could he be so oblivious? he began to think as his feelings for you grew.

you never seemed to mention other guys until you did. it was late at night whenever you had walked into johnnies room and asked him for advice. you wanted to know how to respond to a flirty text some random guy on instagram had sent, you explained. You thought he was cute and lived just a city over. this infuriated johnnie, as his feelings had been brewing for about 3 months now.

it didn't help that he got to see you every day, not that he was complaining, but it was torture. he frequently thought of you in your booty shorts and oversized band t-shirt early in the morning, making breakfast. or the slutty dresses youd wear to parties every other weekend. dont even get him started on the rhinestone belts you incorporated into every outfit. you had one in every different color, and he believed it was the cutest thing, your little addiction to them. it became too much to bear, and he frequently considered pouring his heart out to you. but he never did. things were going well with the other guy, and all he wanted was for you to be happy.

first person.

"Why are we even hanging all of this up? everyone is gonna be too drunk to notice, anyway." i complained, my arms beginning to ache as i held the decorations of choice to the wall while johnnie pinned them.

he shrugged, his eyes trailing down my body as i stretched. "cause were cool."

"i guess," i sighed, "im so worried, the guy I've been talking to is coming tonight." truth was, i could give a fuck less about that guy. yeah, he was sweet, but he wasn't johnnie. he wasn't anywhere close to being as prefect as johnnie was.

i looked into his eyes, praying he would beg me to uninvite him and be his, but that didn't happen. "Don't be, you'll be good," he responded nonchalantly before turning away to go put up valuables in the house that could be broken.

i stared at him for a moment before turning around and tending to my own work.

"Do you think this dress is okay?" i asked frantically.

"y/n, people are about to start showing up, and you're still trying to get dressed -" johnnie began to scold as he turned around.

his face flushed as he admired me in the dress. his eyes hesitated, staring at the slit in the dress that revealed my thigh and how the cut of the dress complimented my cleavage. he stayed silent.

"...so?" i asked, putting my hands on my hips.

"yeah, its whatever. its good." he brushed me off, going to unlock the door.

i hated how much he acted like he didn't care. i rolled my eyes and walked back to my room to put my shoes on. even though it was my own house, i didn't want anyone looking at my feet, of course. i put on my comfiest pair of heels and went to grab the drinks from the kitchen. i organized them on the table, setting out the plastic cups. i felt an arm wrap around my waist as a presence moved next to me.

"hey, its good to see you." the guy from instagram whispered in my ear. i leaned into his touch, ignoring the growing ache in my heart. "you look stunning."

"Thank you," i smile, "it's good to see you, too." This was only the second time we had ever seen each other in person.

i heard johnnie laughing behind me, presumably speaking to jake. i glanced behind me to see him leaning on the counter. he looked at me at the exact same time. He held his breath as his eyes ran over every part of me before turning his attention back to jake.

i sighed, "you wanna go dance?" i asked, hoping he'd say yes and hoping johnnie would hate it.

his eyes shined with lust, "Of course."

i grabbed his hand and dragged him into the other room, making sure we were still in johnnies vision. the guys hands moved to my hips immediately, pulling me onto him. my eye twitched with anger. i hoped it would work. i hoped and prayed johnnie would give in and make me his, so i had a reason to end this situationship. distractions weren't working anymore.

i kept my eyes on johnnie as he turned to watch. his eyebrows scrunched together whenever he saw the way i was pressed into the guy. his hand gripped the cup tighter, his knuckles turning white. i held eye contact the whole time, my gaze never leaving his as our movements became more sexual.

johnnie turned back to jake, saying something before setting his cup down and walking over to me. "can i steal you for a second?"

"Sure, bro," the guy said, taking his hands off of me and letting me walk away with johnnie.

"what, johnnie?" i groan, "im just trying to have fun."

he pushed me into my room and shut the door behind us and locked it. "what the fuck do you think youre doing?"

"what do you mean?" my heart raced.

"You know exactly what you're doing." he whispered in my ear, his pale arms snaked around me and grabbed my hips. "You've been teasing me for so long."

he pulled me closer. i pressed my hands against his chest. "really? what makes you say that?" i taunted.

"Those tiny jean shorts you wear around the house. you never wear them out, so i know they're for me. and those studded belts you always wear that somehow make your body even sexier than it already is." his hands slid down my thighs and pulled up my dress. it bunched around my waist as he squeezed my ass. "you really think i dont notice all the slutty little things you do?"

i bit my lip, feeling his nails digging into my flesh. "i was hoping you did. ive wanted you for so long."

"me too, mama." he replied before crashing his lips onto mine.

the kiss was rough and needy. he pressed me against the wall, his hands dragging up my body to my tits. he squeezed and pawed at them, not bothering to be gentle. i let out a soft moan on his lips. i felt him grow harder through his jeans as he pressed into me. i began to pull off of his shirt, immediately returning to the kiss as it landed on the floor. he wrapped his hand around my neck, squeezing gently. our teeth occasionally clashed as we tried to take as much of each other as possible.

he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist before bringing me to the bed. he tossed me down on my back before crawling on top of me. his mouth found the soft spot on my neck, biting and sucking until dark hickeys covered my neck and chest. he pulled the top of my dress down, revealing my bare chest.

he hummed, "god, you're so beautiful." he murmured before taking my nipple into his mouth. his tongue swirled over the bud, sucking gently. i moaned and arched my back, grinding onto his buldge.

"fuck, johnnie, let me have you." i pleaded, beginning to unbuckle his pants.

"Yes, ma'am." he complied, pulling his pants and boxers down around his ankles. his hard dick sprung out of his jeans.

i hissed, "shit."

johnnie slipped his middle and ring finger in my mouth. "Spit, baby." i did as he told, licking his fingers before spitting on them. my gaze never left his. i watched as lust overtook his eyes. "Good girl."

he rubbed my spit on his cock, wincing slightly as the friction. his slender fingers slipped through the lace strap of my underwear, pulling them down. i choked out curses as the cold air hit my pussy.

"god, youre fucking soaked." he smriked, "youre going to do so good for me, ma."

he gripped my hips, aligning his tip with my entrance before slowly sliding his cock inside of me. my mouth fell ajar as a soft moan escaped my lips. he bottomed out, giving me a moment to adjust to his size. my walls squeezed his cock, sending shivers through my body.

"fuck," he choked out, "are you okay?" he checked, running his hand over my cheek and pulling on my bottom lip.

i nodded quickly, wrapping my legs around his waist. his fingers intertwined with mine, putting one hand above my head. his other stayed on my hip, gripping so tightly i figured there'd be bruises in the morning. he began to thrust slowly, taking his time with me.

"I've wanted to feel you for so long," he muttered on my lips before kissing me softly. "god, youre so perfect. do you think you can take me, babe?"

i hesitated before nodding. "yes, oh my- please."

he moved his hand, so he had a firm hold on my hips. speeding up his pace, he whispered sweet nothings under his breath. "That's it, baby." his hand flew to my clit, rubbing circles.

my back arched slightly as i threw my head back. he took that to his advantage, his cock driving further into me. "Oh, shit." i moaned, placing my hand on his chest. "johnnie, i-i can't.."

"Yes, you can, love. i believe in you." his eyebrows furrowed. "im not done with you, yet."

i nodded, letting pleasure take over my body. moans and curses flowed out of my mouth. his pace was relentless. my mind was fuzzy, and i couldn't form any words besides his name. i moaned his name loud, forgetting other people could hear.

"you arent worried about your little boyfriend hearing you?" he chuckled in between pants, "youre such a slut, i love it."

"only you," i repeated, "only for you."

"That's my girl," he slammed my g-spot over and over as a knot began to form in my stomach. "youre mine."

i nodded eagerly, "'m gonna cum, baby."

"Me too, where do you want me?" he asked breathlessly. his thrusts became sloppy.

"inside. im on the pill," i moaned out, louder than i was expecting.

"i fucking love you." his raspy voice responded. "cum with me, mama."

his thumb met my clit again as my walls milked his cock, taking every last drop of his cum inside. my orgasm took over my body, making me go limp.

he kissed my forehead. "god, you're amazing," he flipped me over so i was bending over the bed, "give me one more."

all i could do was nod as i was still recovering from my previous orgasm. without warning, he was inside of me again, his quick pace never faltering.

my moans became high-pitched. the overstimulation was a mix of pain and pleasure. his fingers tangled in my hair, pushing my head down into the bed as he hit a different angle inside of me. his other hand gripped my ass as low whimpers slipped from his lips.

"fuck, i love you so much." his sweet words contradicting his actions. i tried to say it back, but it came out unintelligible. he stopped thrusting, balls deep inside of me. "use your words, baby."

"fuck, i love you." i grinded my ass into his hips, "i love you so much."

his cock began to drill into me again as i felt the knot in my stomach tighten again. "You close?" i moaned out in agreement. "Me too,"

my second orgasm hit me like a truck at the same time his did. johnnie collapsed onto the bed next to me. "we'll go shower when everyone leaves." he said breathlessly. i nodded in agreement. i laid my head on his chest and knocked the fuck out.

[libraryofgage]

Mermaid/Pirate Steddie Four

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hi hi! It's been kind of a long week for me lmao but here's the next part! You'll def wanna stick around to the very end of the post; there's a very fun surprise for y'all lol

Also! If you like my writing or want to see a quicker update of this or another series, I've opened commissions (student loans are hitting a lot harder than I expected orz). If you're interested, you can find more information in this post

Even if you don't commission me, I appreciate your likes/comments/reblogs of my work! They keep me going and make me really happy ^_^

Anyway, now for the good stuff. As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

----

Sinking a ship takes skill, intense planning, and strong tails. Or, if you're Robin and seven guppies, it takes incredible, unbridled rage and a worry that could kill a Kraken. A ship that should take half the day to sink only takes the group two hours, their tails bashing against the hull and claws ripping planks to let seawater surge inside. Dustin is particularly brutal, recruiting Lucas and Mike to help him use the same net that caught him and took Steve to drag the ship beneath the waves.

Between tending to Dustin's wounds, lying to the pod about why they're going to be away for a while, and actually tracking the damned thing, it took Robin and the guppies a few days to catch up to the ship. And as they scavenge the drowned wreckage, pushing past broken doors and through holes in the hull, it becomes increasingly clear that they're too late.

"Where could he be?!" Dustin shouts, his gills flaring and bubbles rising in an enraged pattern above him. He takes a spear and jabs it into a water-bloated plank. "If he's not here, that means he escaped, right? So why hasn't he found us yet?"

"Steve could have been taken by another ship," El points out, her head poking from behind a mast. She's gained a dagger with a jewel-encrusted hilt and is currently using her nails to dig the jewels out and drop them into a seaweed bag.

Robin frowns, swimmingly anxiously in circles. She's not the one that's good with guppies. That's Steve. If she's the fun caretaker that encourages them to play Scuttlefish with sharks, Steve is the one a tail's-length behind dragging them back to the pod before they can get hurt. He's the one who knows how to keep the guppies calm and healthy. Robin is the one who keeps them energetic and chaotic.

"He was definitely here," Will says, swimming out from a cabin on the ship. He stops in front of Robin and holds his hands out, letting her see the dull, blood-stained scales sitting in his palms.

With a shaking hand, Robin takes the scales and turns them over, hoping they're somehow not Steve's. But he's her partner. Robin could recognize him by the flick of his tail alone. So, of course, she knows they're Steve's scales at a glance.

She turns, her tail creating a small current that brushes over the guppies and forces them to look at her. "If he's not on this one," she says, "then we'll just keep sinking ships until we find him."

"Let's start with the other ship," Erica says.

"The other ship?" Robin asks.

Erica nods, pointing in the direction they'd just come from. "A few leagues before we found this one, I saw another one that was sailing in the other direction. Maybe they crossed paths."

For a brief moment, Robin wonders how she missed the other ship. But then she remembers how she's been caught between her own worries and keeping the guppies from spiraling, and she gives herself a break. "Yeah," she says, nodding as she closes her fingers over the scales. The edges cut into her palms but don't draw blood. "Let's go track down that ship. But don't keep something like that from me next time."

The guppies all nod in agreement, and Robin looks at the wreckage around them. She's half-tempted to let the guppies loot the rest of the ship, but she knows they're all aching to find Steve already. So, Robin herds them away from the sunken ship in the direction Erica pointed and hopes Steve can hold on for just a little longer.

----

Excerpt from "The Lovelorn Fool's Guide to Merfolk Courtship"

Song Types

There are several song types that merfolk are likely to use in their lifetime. While the human ear cannot distinguish the intricacies of the songs, it can tell the major categories apart.

As newly-born guppies, they know only how to vocalize wordless sounds based on their needs. These sounds are referred to as Guppy Songs. These songs are generally lacking in any real melody or rhythm. They are rough and unskilled, but many caretakers consider them precious.

Pod songs are shared tunes and melodies among the pod to communicate big news. When hearing a pod song from a lone merperson, it will sound incomplete. Pod songs usually require at least one other merperson to support or respond to the initial measures, which creates a complete and satisfying loop.

Individual songs are varied and unique, as the name suggests. They cover a range of emotions that simply can't be communicated through regular speech or bubble patterns (to learn more about bubble patterns, please see Part I: The Basics). Among these songs, the most important to know is the courting song, which can actually be multiple songs using the same opening measures and melodies with slightly different tones.

Now that you know the most basic kind of songs, we can move to harmonizing. Truthfully, a human's ability to harmonize with a merperson is nearly impossible. However, it can be done with an instrument, which can reach ranges the human voice cannot. So, if you don't know how to play one, I'd suggest learning. Harmonizing is a key step in the courtship process, after all.

----

Steve shrieks as Eddie spins him around, the sound high and grating, and clings tighter to Eddie's neck. His tailfin slaps Eddie behind his knee, hard enough to make him falter and slip on the rain-soaked deck. He falls on his ass, Steve safely in his lap, and laughs. The charms in his hair knock against each other, and Steve idly reaches up to brush his finger against one. "What was that for?" Eddie asks, the words slightly breathless.

"You surprised me," Steve says, frowning slightly as raindrops catch in his eyelashes and make them heavy. He holds a hand above his eyes and then does the same for Eddie.

"You just looked so pretty, sweetheart," Eddie says, grinning at Steve like he knows what bubble pattern his fluttering gills would create (flustered and flattered).

He rolls his eyes, looking at the sky and sea in the distance. The ocean is surging, and waves and sea foam collide as the wind picks up force. Dark clouds hang over the sea, and Steve would be concerned if he didn't know the storm would clear up soon. He can tell from the sound of the ocean and the taste in the air: the water isn't angry enough and there isn't enough salt on his lips.

The rain is still going to turn brutal, though, and Steve would prefer they weren't on deck when it happens. He overheard Asher and Jeff talking about the last time Eddie got soaked to the bone and got sick. He's not sure what a "cold" is, but he doesn't want Eddie catching it again.

"Let's go back to the cabin," he says, looking back at Eddie with a light smile. "I want to hear you play that, uh, gee-tare."

"Guitar, Stevie," Eddie corrects, holding Steve tight as he stands. He has an excited smile, something expectant in his eyes that Steve still hasn't figured out.

Steve hums, knowing very well how it's pronounced, but he likes to see the somewhat dopey smile Eddie gets whenever he mispronounces something. He gets the feeling Eddie also knows he's doing it on purpose, but he's not said anything yet.

Eddie carries him down to the captain's cabin, kicking the door shut with his foot. "Where do you want to be, sweetheart?" he asks.

After a moment's consideration, Steve gestures to the bed, looking forward to the soft pillows and even softer sheets. When Eddie places him down, he wiggles until his tail is curled comfortably, soaking the sheets beneath him, and looks at Eddie expectantly.

"Any requests?" Eddie asks, clearly amused as he grabs his guitar and hops onto the bed next to Steve. His knee brushes against Steve's tail, drawing Steve's attention briefly to the faint scar that lingers across his scales.

He's been healed for almost a day now, and Steve should probably start bracing himself to say goodbye, but he'd like to remain in denial a little longer. He doesn't want to leave. Even if he knows he'll come right back with Robin and the guppies, Steve doesn't want to be away from Eddie that long. They haven't even confirmed their courtship. Leaving before they do means any merperson with half a brain could see how much of a pearl Eddie is and try to steal him away.

Steve forces the thought away, forces himself to focus on answering Eddie's question, and shakes his head. "Just play something," he says.

Eddie nods and thinks a moment as he tunes the guitar. "Could you hum something?" he asks.

When he looks up at Steve again, there's something oddly intense in his gaze. He looks determined, as though something very important is riding on this moment. Steve isn't sure what it is, exactly, but he knows he doesn't want it to pass him by. Steve nods and starts humming a soft and familiar tune, one he's used a lot more after meeting Eddie.

It must be the right choice, because Eddie practically lights up, a grin tugging at his lips and crinkling the corners of his eyes as he listens. After a few seconds, he starts plucking strings on the guitar, adding a gentle accompaniment that makes Steve's humming rock back and forth like the ocean currents.

Usually, Eddie plays fast, his music filling Steve with the same heat and energy as an underwater volcano in the middle of an eruption. But this is slow and sweet like the honey Steve tried a few days ago. It creeps through him, his gills fluttering with each note that Eddie pulls from his guitar. He feels soft and happy, his voice shifting to follow Eddie's lead as inspiration hits him.

They trade the lead back and forth between them, and Steve starts to actually sing at some point. He doesn't know when he opened his mouth and started to vocalize the notes instead of just humming them, a sweet melody forming as his voice resonates with the guitar. It just happens as naturally as swimming. Steve can no longer tell where his voice ends and the guitar begins. They've fallen into sync, strumming and singing together without missing a beat.

Steve leans closer, his heart pounding against his ribs even faster than usual. They're harmonizing. He realizes it suddenly, but it doesn't catch him off-guard. It's just a whisper in the back of his mind, a little nudge that makes him smile and move without thinking beyond the desire to be closer.

The song doesn't end naturally. In fact, Eddie is in the middle of a particularly lovely string of notes when Steve kisses him, still humming low in his throat. Eddie's fingers fumble, a sour note pulling from the guitar, but Steve doesn't care. He's too busy wrapping one hand around the back of Eddie's neck and placing the other on Eddie's chest.

He can feel Eddie's heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and Steve presses closer. He's barely balancing on his tail as Eddie moves the guitar from his lap, pushing it to the side of the bed while he kisses Steve back. Eddie pushes his hand into Steve's hair, tangling his fingers in the strands.

Steve's humming happily rises in pitch, and he finally loses his balance, his weight pressing entirely on Eddie and causing him to fall back on the bed. The kiss breaks when Eddie bounces slightly, their foreheads knocking together, and Steve can't help laughing.

"You're fucking gorgeous, sweetheart," Eddie whispers, his free hand trailing to Steve's waist and settling on his back. His fingers brush against the line where scales meet skin, and Steve shudders, his mouth going dry, and he kisses Eddie again before he can say another word.

----

Tag List (the tag list is full! I wasn't able to fit everyone, so if you aren't on here, I'd suggest following #high seas steddie. I think you should still get updates on your dash if you do)

@mugloversonly, @raisedbylibrarians, @thegirlwiththelibrarybag, @savory-babby, @vankaar, @beckkthewreck, @itcanbepalped, @imfinereallyy, @finntheehumaneater, @mightbeasleep, @weekend-dreamer7

@whenindoubtb72, @troublemaker2azz, @just-a-tiny-void, @upallnightogetloki, @mxmakessense, @ellietheasexylibrarian, @haelreadsshit, @y4r3luv, @starman-jpg, @littlewildflowerkitten, @estrellami-1, @stevieschrodinger, @gaelicblue, @they-reap-what-we-sow

@5ammi90, @noodle-shenaniganery, @acrolius, @hallelujahimatheist, @rainbow-freckle, @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @79chevyimpala, @aliea82, @hopefulcookieoperatorpersona, @sani-86, @queenie-ofthe-void, @goosesister, @hello-fellow-nerds, @luthienstormblessed, @xtkxkrzrizir, @potato-of-the-lord, @geekymagicalpotato, @child-of-cthulhu, @aizawa-emma, @m-owo-n, @newtstabber, @cartercaptainofthemoon, @spectrum-spectre, @a-little-unsteddie

And, if you've made it this far, here's a little meme for your entertainment

[vivid-ink]

"Show Me & Teach Me"

Neteyam Sully / female Omatikaya reader

Summary: You were an inconsequential member of the Omatikaya clan who had failed your rites of passage once already. You were born to heal, not hunt or fight. So, why had the tsahìk designated Neteyam of all people to take over your training? What business did the future olo’eyktan have mentoring you? But it was too late now. You should have known better than to fall in love with your mentor. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it…

Content: Angst & fluff, pining, protective Neteyam, romance, Neteyam is your mentor, teacher-student chemistry, eventual happy ending, slight age-gap fetish, older man-younger woman.

Word count: 6.5k

Notes: This is my first ever Tumblr fic post! I've posted previously on AO3, Wattpad and FF.net, but I discovered this wonderful fandom on Tumblr recently and you've inspired me! Shout out to these bloggers whose work and writing I've been avidly browsing recently - @cinetrix, @andraga12, @pandoraslxna, @lanasblood and @draiochtwrites Special thanks to @cinetrix for her fabulous Neteyam renders. SO. BLOODY. GORGEOUS. This is also my first attempt at a Neteyam/Reader style of writing, so I hope I've done it justice. I personally don't like the usage of 'Y/N', so the reader's name in this is Seyla. The name is not used often, but there are a few points where it has been used for stylistic/emotional effect in the dialogue. Cross-posted also on AO3 - Show Me & Teach Me Other works available - VividInk AO3

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

The dichotomy of emotion that swirled in your chest was a frustrating ache; a blight against the happiness of the occasion. Today was a happy day, and yet the unwelcome despondency you felt stubbornly insisted on battling with your elation at having finally completed your rites of passage. You had completed Iknimaya to tame your own ikran last week, and yesterday you had completed your uniltaron (dream hunt).

You were officially a woman now, born again as one of the Omatikaya, and tonight the entire clan was celebrating you and your other successful peers. Your peers who are all a few years younger than you are… The pessimistic part of your brain unhelpfully supplied.

The swallow of saliva down your throat was tight at the thought and you mentally attempted to bat away the negativity. So what if you were a late bloomer? What mattered was that you had succeeded now, and you had one person in particular to thank for that.

Neteyam…

His name breathed like a soothing balm over your fraught mind, but before your thoughts could carry you further away from the jovial festivity that surrounded you, the call of your name jolted you from your contemplation.

“Seyla! Come and join us! Tonight isn’t for sitting, it’s for dancing!”

Twisting your torso where you were seated to meet the mirthful eyes of another girl across the bonfire, you gave her a small grin in response and shook your head. Nope, you were not much of a dancer. You were skilled with your hands; at weaving; at beading, and at healing – especially healing -, but the rest of you was as uncoordinated as they came. This was one of the reasons it had taken you longer than most to achieve your rites.

You raised your voice to ensure it would carry over the percussion drumbeats of the music and the crackle and spit of the fire, “No thanks! You go on, Pania! I can’t dance, and I’m happy being merry over here with my drink!” The vessel of bittersweet alcohol in your hand was brought to your lips once more to prove your point and though Pania pouted, she acquiesced and returned to her frolicking.

Shyness had been your constant companion your entire life. You had never liked being the centre of attention, had always been content to just blend into the background where it was safe and constant. Happy though you were tonight at your success, no amount of cajoling would to persuade you to join the mosh pit of revelry around the bonfire. You preferred your quiet contemplation, observing and finding joy in others’ bliss while they enjoyed the celebration around you.

With another sip of your drink, you sighed to yourself as the liquid burned a path down your throat.

As always, your gaze wandered through the sea of swaying and jaunting bodies, seeking out the strapping frame of the man you had become familiar with recently. You had grown fond of him over the many moons you had spent under his tutelage, far too fond, you realised. It was not long before you found him, mingling amongst a group of the other mentors.

Neteyam was laughing heartily among them, nursing his own vessel of alcohol. His smile was dashing, and his laughter was like music to your ears, warming the cockles of your heart and setting it aflame. You felt your own lips pull into a diffident smile of your own at the sight of him. He was so beautiful; both inside as well as out.

You remembered being mortified at first when he had been assigned as your replacement mentor. It had happened not long after his family had returned to the clan following the Long War.

The return of Toruk Makto and his family had been greatly celebrated; the return of their beloved olo’eyktan and the return of Neteyam as his successor. Neteyam had always been handsome, even in his youth. You recalled the silly girlhood crush you had harboured for him, a boy several years older than yourself who took not much notice of you, although he had always been kind in the few interactions you had shared.

Neteyam had returned to the clan even more striking now that he had grown into a man, with the toned musculature of a warriors’ body that made even the most reserved of women think unchaste things. You were guilty of this too.

So, imagine your horror when tsahìk Mo’at had pronounced that Neteyam would take over training you for your second attempt at your rites. Great. Just what you needed; more self-conscious pressure…

You had not done well under Rini’s instruction. Rini was one of the best young warriors in the clan, but she had found your lack of confidence frustrating and your timid nature more annoying than endearing. She had been impatient and exasperated as a result, the entire ordeal culminating in the shame of your first unsuccessful attempt at Iknimaya. You had not been injured, but you had failed because none of the ikran had challenged you and you had made no further attempt to tame one.

The decision for Neteyam to replace Rini had shocked you and it had made no sense. Even thinking back now, it still made no sense. Great Mother, why would anyone devote the time of the future olo’eyktan to the training of an inconsequential young woman?

Nevertheless, Mo’at’s decision had proven to be beneficial to your learning. You put it down to Neteyam more so than yourself. You were still the same old you; bashful, uncertain and reluctant to cause things harm, even if it was hunting wild game for the clan’s sustenance. Neteyam just had a way about him; he was unassuming and patient, and he had made you feel at ease with him.

The lively swell of the music around you faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you once more. The memory of your first meeting with Neteyam floated into the forefront of your mind…

*** FLASHBACK ***

“Tsahìk, I think the yalnabark tincture is done brewing. I’ve taken it off the fire for now or the mixture might scorch at the bottom.” You called out assuredly. If there was one thing in life you knew you were good at, it was the art of healing.

Mo’at reappeared from around the partition in the healers’ hut, crouching down to test the consistency of the tincture in the pot by stirring it gently with a wooden ladle. The viscous fluid bubbled gently and you knew it would cool eventually to form the thick salve you were used to slathering on cuts and wounds.

The tsahìk sniffed the wafting fumes before settling appraising gold eyes on you. She smiled and the expression made the corners of her eyes and mouth crinkle with warmth, “Well done, child. It’s the perfect consistency.”

Beaming at the praise you received, you settled the pot to the side to cool and began gathering your things to clean up for the day. Eclipse was fast approaching and the light of day was fading fast. Quietly, you wondered to yourself why you could not just carry on as you were, learning from Mo’at and assisting her with the sick and injured from day to day.

You were born to help people; to heal them and give them comfort in difficult times. Hunting and learning to spar with knives and spears were the farthest things away from your proficiencies.

“You are thinking so loudly I can hear your thoughts.” Mo’at hummed, her lips forming a wry grin.

“I just don’t understand why I have to train and pass Iknimaya. I’ll never be a hunter or a warrior. Can’t I just learn from you and be a healer for the rest of my life?”

Mo’at fixed you with an astute gaze and she narrowed her eyes at you, “You can and will be a great healer, Seyla. But Iknimaya is a rite of passage that all Omatikaya individuals must pass. You need to tame an ikran or how will you travel? You’ll never fly otherwise and you are too grown now to be a pillion passenger on another’s ikran.”

With a resigned huff, you slung your pouch across your torso, preparing to depart for the evening when Mo’at called out to you again.

“Just stay back for a while today. I told Neteyam to meet you here at eclipse. I figured it would be good for the two of you to reacquaint yourselves with each other a bit before you he starts your training tomorrow.”

Self-conscious flutters erupted in your belly.

Of course, you knew you would be spending a lot of time with Neteyam in the coming while since he would be mentoring you, but the timid part of you had thought you would not need to deal with your nerves around this until tomorrow. You did what was requested of you nonetheless.

Neteyam was prompt, stepping into the healers’ hut within moments of eclipse’s onset. Your heart had been racing steadily behind your sternum in anxious anticipation, but the sight of him made it skip a few beats. Eywa help you, he was so attractive… How were you ever going to be able to concentrate on your learnings being mentored by him?

You immediately rose to your feet from where you were knelt out of respect at his arrival. Dipping your knees slightly and with a bow of your head, you greeted him, “Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam. My name is-”

Neteyam interrupted you before you could finish, “Seyla. Yes, I know. I remember you.”

Your head snapped up in surprise at his words. His smile was kind and his eyes gentle as he regarded you and you blinked, lost for words, for several moments before you found them again, “Oh, you do? We never really spoke much.”

You were six years his junior. Too young to have been in any of the social circles Neteyam had made his way around in. Any interactions you had shared were fleeting and often just greetings in passing. He was as good as the crown prince of the clan, so naturally you had known who he was. It would not have been unfair though to assume, especially with your quiet nature, that he did not notice you.

A jovial grin danced across Neteyam’s lips, the tips of his canines peaking charmingly out from his behind his upper lip, “The girl with the pretty braids. Though I see you don’t wear them as long anymore.”

The peal of laughter that bubbled up from within you was involuntary, sparked by pure delight at the realisation that he did indeed remember you. You had worn your hair much longer as a girl, your tresses trailing in luscious locks down to your hips. Your hair had been one of the beautiful things about you, and you and your mother had spent countless hours crafting new beads and braiding them into your hair in intricate styles. The length had unfortunately become inconvenient as you grew older, so the ends of your braids were now lopped shorter to brush the small of your back.

A flush heated your cheeks under his scrutiny and your laughter died down. Clearing your throat clumsily, you nodded, “Yeah, that’s me.”

A hoarse chortle emanated from behind you and you remembered Mo’at was still present. Her husky voice piped up, her eyes twinkling with some enigmatic reason in their depths, “You need to look after this one, Neteyam. Her hands work miracles with the ill and injured. She is gifted with healing, both physical and spiritual. And you of all people should understand how exceptional that is.”

The tsahìk’s words were high praise and you felt the flush on your face intensify. Her words reminded you suddenly of the reason for your meeting with Neteyam in the first place though, and you quickly added, “I will work hard as your trainee. I’m not particularly athletic or strong, but I’ll always try my best. I don’t wait to fail again and I don’t want to bring you shame as my mentor, so I’ll pass my rites or die trying.”

Neteyam appeared taken aback by the candour with which you spoke and the severity of your tone. He gave a slow cock of his head to the side, his eyes calculating while you fought hard not to squirm at his silent assessment.

His assessing gaze only lasted several moments before the comfortable warmth of his usual expression returned. His voice was benevolent when he spoke, “No one is going to die trying anything. We will go at your pace. I may push you at times, but if it gets too much, you are at every right to voice this to me.”

Neteyam’s words were a reassurance and the thundering of your heart began to subside. Mustering up what little dregs of courage you possessed from within yourself, you lifted your head to peer into his eyes and found them void of any judgement. Their green-gold depths were open and sincere, and you perceived also a silent promise of security in them.

The lump forming in your throat hindered you from finding your word, however, and your response to Neteyam was a mute nod.

He spoke again then, the baritone of his voice rumbling delightfully through you, “I swear to you as your mentor that I will keep you safe. Your safety is my priority and you will have the protection of my body too if need be.”

Neteyam’s masculine pledge of security made parts of you squeeze in feminine appreciation, and you berated yourself internally for letting his appeal distract you.

 You watched as he extended a hand out to you and you placed your hand in his to shake it, only to feel him raise the back of it to his lips instead in a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

A stray ember spat from the bonfire and sailed through the air towards you. You hissed and slapped at your arm where the ember made blistering contact with your bare skin. The heat of the fire suddenly felt stifling and you got to your feet, intent on heading somewhere quieter where you could be alone with your thoughts.

Great Mother, you missed him already. You were going to miss him so much.

Feminine laughter reached you and the points of your ears swivelled in that direction, your eyes following suit a moment later. You spotted one of the female warriors, Penina, giggling while she clasped on to Neteyam’s forearm as the troupe of warriors continued in their conversation. She raised herself onto the balls of her feet to whisper something in his ear before she pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. Neteyam turned his head and gave Penina a sly smile in response.

You turned away quickly, not wanting to witness anything more. You should have clung on tighter to your heart while you still had it.

A sharp stab of sadness pricked in your chest and you silently chastised yourself for being so foolish. Neteyam was the future olo’eyktan for goodness sake. He had his pick of the females and he could court who he liked. You had known this day would come; the day when your success would mean losing his company.

Looking around you, you saw that everyone else was engrossed in their carousing and it allowed you slip away unhindered. Padding towards the appealing tranquillity of the woodland glade that surrounded the clan’s new Hometree, you found yourself a patch of soft moss amongst the bioluminescent eyaye ferns and settled yourself there.

Taking deep breaths through your nostrils, you closed your eyes and surrendered yourself to the sounds of the night; the soft pattering of water from the nearby cascades; the chirruping of insects and the occasional calls of a troop of syaksyuk in the lush canopy overhead. Beating back the soreness in your heart, you willed yourself to pray to the Great Mother, to be grateful and thankful for your achievement.

However, your mind did not appear to want to co-operate and the painful image of Penina kissing Neteyam’s cheek flashed through your consciousness again.

Being mentored by Neteyam was both your greatest blessing and your greatest curse.

After that first meeting with Neteyam, you had only gone from strength to strength under his guidance. He was a kind but firm tutor who held an unwavering belief in your abilities, despite the fact that you did not share that same confidence. He pushed you to your limits, but never beyond them and like any good mentor, he knew when to reward you with praise and when to be more critical.

You should have known you were a lost cause from the moment he had sworn to protect you during that first meeting. You should have been more careful. You should have guarded your heart with the constant reminder that he was not yours and never would be no matter how much you felt drawn to him during your lessons.

*** FLASHBACK ***

Neteyam stood at your back, his stance almost a mirror of yours as he adjusted your shooting form; legs positioned firmly apart, back straight with a strong core, bowstring drawn as you took aim at the target in the distance between the thick trunks of the trees. Your aim and accuracy had strengthened considerably in the weeks training under Neteyam. Tomorrow, you would attempt again the first rite of making a clean kill.

It was difficult to concentrate when you could feel the heat of his body radiating off him and feel his warm breaths tickling the point of one of your ears. The heat of one of his hands seared against the skin of your hip as he steadied you and the fingertips of his other hand supported the wrist of your bow arm. Unable to take your eyes off the target to confirm your suspicion for yourself, you also swore to the Great Mother that the tuft of his tail was delicately caressing the calf of your back leg.

“Whenever you’re ready, loose the arrow.” Neteyam whispered, and the purr of his voice sent a shudder through you that you hoped he did not notice.

Target in focus, you narrowed your eyes and when the instinctive urge hit, you let your arrow fly. It hurtled through the trees to embed itself dead centre of the mounted target amongst your previous attempts. The thrill of success washed through you once more and you gave a little skip on the spot in celebration.

“Seysonìltsan (well done)!” Neteyam cheered, looping an arm around your waist and pressing his cheek to yours in an affectionate nuzzle that made your face and neck flush, “You’re all set for tomorrow. You’re going to be just fine.”

Your initial joy at your success with target practice soon clouded over when you contemplated the final part of making a clean kill: A dagger through the creature’s heart to return its soul to Eywa; the part that you had failed to complete on your own during your first attempt. Rini had been forced to end the creature’s life for you.

The sound of the yerik’s pained, bleating cries still haunted your ears to this day. You had felt rotten being responsible for the arrow that had impaled its side. You had not wanted to cause it anymore pain…

Sensing the change in your mood, Neteyam ran a gentle hand down your side, “Hey, come back to me. What are you thinking about?”

Chewing on your bottom lip, ears twitching, your nervous eyes flitted to his, “Did Rini tell you why I failed this rite last time?”

A frown marred his handsome face and he shook his head, his concern evident as he snaked an arm around your shoulders to pull you against his side.

The soothing strokes of his thumb against your upper arm coaxed you to continue, “My arrow’s aim was true and I managed to impale the yerik. But I couldn’t end its life with my dagger. I don’t like to hurt things. It was in pain and all I wanted to do was make the pain stop. Of course, the pain would’ve stopped once I ended its life but the thought of stabbing it was too much for me to bear. Rini had to do it in the end. I was too weak to.”

Your last words were uttered with all the dejection that you felt and the tears of your shame stung in your downcast eyes. Something so simple, so natural in the cycle of life that all creatures shared in the Great Mother, and you could not do it. You were weak.

You felt warm fingers grasp your chin gently and your face was tilted up to meet Neteyam’s. Your eyes remained shuttered, however, and you cursed the two fat tears that squeezed their way from behind your closed lids to roll down your cheeks.

“Seyla, look at me.” Neteyam implored you, and it was only the sheer tenderness in his tone that made you brave enough to obey. Your breath was stolen from you as you met his striking eyes and his expression was full of compassion, “You’re not weak for finding it difficult to end a life. Your calling is to heal, to restore life even in the direst of circumstances when all seems lost. There is great strength in that. Empathy is not weakness. You have a big heart and I don’t want to hear you call yourself weak ever again.”

Swiping your tears from your face with the back of one hand, you sniffled softly and nodded. But your chin wobbled along with your voice as you posed your question, “What if I can’t do it tomorrow? What if I fail again?”

“Then I’ll guide your hand and we’ll do it together. And after you’ve completed your rites, you’ll never have to hunt again if you don’t want to.”

*** FLASHBACK END ***

And he had guided your hand in the end.

Neteyam’s bigger hand had enveloped yours to steady its trembling amid the bleating cries of the yerik you had felled, and he had given you the strength, the driving force that you needed, to complete your first rite.

Afterward, your adrenalin and your distress had all come to a head and he had held you in his arms where you were both crouched, comforting you as you cried.

That had been the first of your successful firsts, as you called them, and Neteyam had been there every single step of the way after that. Your first kill; your first climb to Iknimaya where you successfully tamed your ikran; your first flight; your first talioang hunt; and your first Dream Hunt. It was always his eyes that you sought out first at the end of each achievement, and your heart had always soared to find his gaze waiting to receive yours.

You were not even aware of it at first, that your heart no longer beat inside the confines of your chest. Then one day as Neteyam had graced you with another one of his magnetic smiles, you realised that your heart now beat in the hold of his hands. He had swindled it from you without you even knowing it and now it was too late to get it back.

Today had been the first day in many moons – almost seven – that you did not arise in the morning and head out to meet Neteyam. You were one of the people now. There was no more training to be had and you had felt the loss of his presence keenly during the day today.

You had thanked Neteyam last night, for all his guidance and perseverance that had led to your success. You had been weary from the exertion of your Dream Hunt, your mind still foggy from the psychoactive effects of the glow worm one had to consume as part of the rite. However, you remembered murmuring your thanks to him and falling asleep against the blissful warmth of his chest as he had carried you home to your family’s alcove.

He must feel it too… You thought to yourself. That magnetism that pushed and pulled between the two of you, surely it was not simply one-sided on your part?

Neteyam had never said anything, had never given any indication to you of wanting to address the bond that had grown between the two of you. All the smiles, the embraces, the tender nuzzles, the deliberate touches and the gentle brushing of his fingers against your skin; all the almost kisses; had you imagined it all? Did your lovesick brain infer more than there actually was to all of it?

“What are you doing here?”

The voice at your back startled you out of your skin and you jumped with an unintentional yelp.

Neteyam’s deep laughter reverberated loudly in the serenity of the glade around you and you turned to swat at the calf of one of his legs, your tail lashing crossly behind you at being alarmed. He moved to settle himself on the moss next to you and you shuffled over to make room for him where the moss was its plushest.

“What have I always told you about watching your back?” Neteyam clucked playfully, reaching out to poke you in the ribs lightly.

You recoiled from the ticklish jab, unable to stop the giggle that escaped you despite the frown you still wore due to his previous action, “I don’t really think anything dangerous will sneak up on me whilst I’m on home-ground. So you’ll forgive me, karyu (teacher), for letting my guard down.”

“You don’t think I’m dangerous?” There was a mischievous glint in Neteyam’s eyes and his tone was cheeky as he regarded you.

Oh, you knew Neteyam could be dangerous with his imposing stature and warriors’ body, corded with powerful muscle that guaranteed brute strength in a wrestling match, and promised carnal delight for a woman caged within his hold in a very different kind of match. The explicit nature of your last thought surprised you and you hoped the furious blush staining your cheeks was not obvious in the dim light of eclipse.

“Seriously though, I know you’re not one for crowds and carousing, but what are you doing hiding out here?” Neteyam queried again, and sincerity coloured his tone this time.

“Everything just got a bit much. And I’m still tired from yesterday, I think. I just wanted somewhere quiet to reflect.” You muttered softly.

The familiar musk of his scent tantalised your nose and you took a discreet inhale, savouring the comfort it brought you while you also tried simultaneously to embed it into the deepest recesses of your memory. You were not going to be around Neteyam much anymore. You had healers’ duties to attend to and he had duties as future clan leader to attend to. That certainly made for quite a lot of distance.

Another twinge of sadness pulled at you and you kept your gaze on your folded knees, unable to look at him. Wanting to deflect and distract yourself from the sombre mood that was threatening to overwhelm you, you parroted his first question back at him, “I could ask you the same thing. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back with the others, enjoying the party? You seemed to be quite engaged with the warriors before.”

“I saw you sneak away and I figured I’d check in with you. This is technically your party after all, to celebrate your rebirth. You sure you don’t want to head back out there? There are quite a few people who want to congratulate you.” Neteyam cajoled.

“Not right now. I’ll come back in a bit. You go on though. I’m OK, you’ve seen that no danger has befallen me.” Your attempt to be jovial fell flat even to your own ears and you felt Neteyam shift beside you, lowering his head to try and catch your eye.

“Seyla, what’s wrong? You’re upset. Has someone said something to you tonight? Hurt you? Tell me what happened and I’ll deal with them.”

Neteyam’s concern and immediate oath to defend you was moving. It was wonderful to know he still cared deeply for you despite the conclusion of your mentor-mentee relationship. His devotion to the people he cared about was one of the many things you loved about him.

Great Mother, you loved him. You were in love with him.

The sentiment threatened to choke you and you swallowed it down painfully. You were determined to keep your composure. You did not want to cry tonight in front of Neteyam, not when it was a night of celebration for you as well as for him as your mentor. You would look like an absolute ingrate and you were not about to admit to him the real reason for your melancholy either.

“Nothing untoward has happened. No one has said anything or done anything.” The words were forced from your throat and you realised with mounting horror that you were failing miserably at trying to sound normal. Your voice was unsteady and unbidden tears were pooling in your eyes.

Neteyam’s brow furrowed uneasily at your apparent distress and he shifted to face you. His large hands encircled each of your upper arms, rubbing gently in an attempt to mollify whatever turmoil you clearly felt but seemed reluctant to tell him of. “Shh it’s alright, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you know you can tell me anything, right?”

A choked sob left you and you pawed in frustration at your wet eyes, lying through your teeth, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m just really tired and out of sorts. That glow worm really did a number on me.” You pushed at his forearms gently, faking a smile and urging him to return to the merriment of the party, “Go, honestly. Don’t let me ruin your evening.”

Neteyam appeared utterly unconvinced, which was testament to how well he had come to know you; how easily he could read you. He fidgeted uncomfortably then and you mused to yourself how uncharacteristic that was of him when he was usually so self-assured.

He took a slow and measured inhale, one of his hands leaving you to scratch nervously at the back of his head, “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Something important.”

The downturned points of your ears pricked upwards with interest, his last two words piquing your curiosity, “What is it? Is it bad news?”

By Eywa, please let it not be bad news. What could be so important that he needed to speak to you right now?

Neteyam took in your worried expression, your beautiful doe-eyes shiny with emotion, and he chuckled lightly, “No, it’s not bad news. Well, it could be bad news for me, but that depends on your viewpoint on the matter.”

“What do you mean?” You queried and you both watched and felt as he took your smaller hands in his, his fingers squeezing and rubbing your palms gently comfortingly.

Licking his lips and swallowing the knot of nerves in his throat, Neteyam began to explain slowly, “You know my position within the clan as my father’s successor.”

“Yes.”

“You know that I will lead this clan as olo’eyktan when my father’s time in that position ends.”

“Yes.”

“Well, every olo’eyktan needs a tsahìk.”

You blinked perplexedly up at him. His three statements appeared rather matter-of-fact and ‘old news’ to you. It was nothing you did not know and nothing you were not already aware of. You were quite puzzled as to why Neteyam was bringing this up now. “Sorry, I don’t think I’m following you. I know all this already.”

A nervous chuckle left Neteyam then and he ran a hand down his face. He knew he was being cryptic and it was the result of his own nerves that caused him to be so. He could see you had no idea where he was going with this and he took the opportunity to tease one last time, “Have you never wondered why I was assigned as your mentor?”

You perked up at the question. Ah! This question you could relate to, “Yes! I wonder about this all the time actually. There are many other skilled hunters or warriors who could’ve trained me. I don’t understand why they designated you. Surely your skills would’ve been better used elsewhere.”

“It was my grandmother’s decision specifically. As tsahìk, she interprets the will of our Great Mother. She determines the best candidates for the future leaders of this clan.” Neteyam continued, his tone measured and he watched carefully for your reaction while you took in his words, “Seyla, you were her choice of tsakarem (future tsahìk). Of course, it was all dependent on you passing your rites, which is why no one could tell you this fact. Not even me. She assigned me as your mentor not just because of my skills, but because she wanted to see if we would get along.”

“W-What?” Your heart was galloping in your chest, your brain reeling as it tried to process the information you had just been enlightened about.

“It was such a hard secret for me to keep.” Neteyam appeared a little sheepish then and he chortled, bringing both of your hands up to his lips to press several kisses to your knuckles, “Your heart is so pure and you’re so beautiful. I grew fonder and fonder of you the more I got to know you. I wanted you to pass your rites and I knew you would with time if I could build your confidence. Now you have, and I’m so proud of you.”

A sudden burst of clarity struck you as Neteyam’s words began to sink in. Everything that had not made sense before made perfect sense now: The reason the future olo’eyktan of all people had been assigned to mentor you; the reason Neteyam had been so forward with his affection during your training; the reason Mo’at had always been so welcoming towards you learning from her, despite the unofficial mantle you had once held for so long as the ‘flop’ of the clan who may never pass your rites. There had been a bigger picture all along.

“Your grandmother wants me to be your tsahìk?”

Neteyam nodded and he reached out to cup your cheek, “Yes, if you’ll accept the position and accept me as your betrothed.”

Something dazzling white and wonderfully warm pierced through the cloud of your melancholy. You looked at Neteyam’s face, really looked at him and at the future he was presenting you with. You, tsakarem! Neteyam’s betrothed and future mate. You would stand at his side, tsahìk and olo’eyktan…

It was such an about-turn of events from what you felt moments ago that you could hardly believe it. But the sheer joy that burst within your heart was so welcome and in that moment, all was right with the world. It felt like the misshapen pieces of your wounded pride that had taken a beating after your past failures had reshaped themselves and found their place.

Beaming at Neteyam through glassy eyes that were now filling with happy tears, you laughed and the sound was bright in your ears.

Neteyam leaned in to nuzzle your cheek tenderly, his warm breath ghosting across the smooth skin there, “Please say you’ll accept and be mine. You are gifted and blessed by Eywa, and it would be an honour to have you as my tsahìk.”

“Yes. Yes, I accept.” Your giggles were wet and your arms instinctively curled around Neteyam’s neck as he lifted you in his arms to your knees in a triumphant embrace.

Neteyam drew back then, his face mere inches from yours. He nuzzled your nose lightly, “May I kiss you?”

With parted lips and a bashful nod, you absently thought to yourself that you were yet again about to experience another one of your firsts with Neteyam. Your first kiss.

His lips met yours in a tentative meld at first, the moist brush of lips an entirely new sensation to you. Neteyam pressed forward again after, claiming your lips this time in a deliberate sweep of lips and tongue that stole your breath from you and sent a spark of desire coursing through your veins.

Your earlier melancholy seemed lightyears away now in the face of what had just happened, and your heart sighed in contentment at the uplifting of its grief that had come with Neteyam’s declaration.

Not wanting to scare you with his fervent ardour, Neteyam pulled away a little to rest his forehead against yours, “By Eywa, you don’t know how long I have wanted to do that.”

“I see you, Neteyam.”

“I see you, yawntu (beloved).” He returned the sentiment, smiling as he delivered a couple more chaste kisses. He sat back on his haunches then to properly look at you, his expression turning serious then, “Will you tell me why were you upset before? I’m just concerned, that’s all.”

Rolling your lips together in mild embarrassment, you outed the truthful answer to his question, “I was sad that I wouldn’t see you every day anymore. I was missing you. But it seems I don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

Several emotions flitted their way across Neteyam’s face; surprise, compassion and then satisfaction. With a wayward smirk, he purred, “Our daytimes may be spent apart now, but our evenings, well, we’ll have to fill those, won’t we? I’m looking forward to getting to know my betrothed in a more personal manner.”

Neteyam surged forward to kiss you again, more forcefully this time, and your head craned backward under the pleasurable plundering of his mouth. You moaned lightly and when a mistimed re-angling of your head caused your teeth to clack against his, you pulled away self-consciously with an apology, “Sorry, I’m new to this. Looks like you’re still going to have to teach me, karyu.”

The impish grin that Neteyam cast you sent hot shivers down your spine and his eyes glinted with the promise of the best kind of wickedness. He placed slow kisses to your face; one to your chin, one to your mouth and then to each of your eyes before he murmued, “Oh, there is so much that I plan to teach you, yawntu. And we have a lifetime to explore all that.”

He punctuated his words with a searing, open-mouthed kiss to the column of your neck and the suction he applied there made your toes curl into the plush moss beneath you.

With your eyes closed and your mouth slack-jawed from the pleasure his lips were wreaking where he worshipped your neck and chest, you knew without a doubt that today was just the beginning of the first of many firsts with Neteyam.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~*** Author's Note:

If you've made it this far, THANK YOU for reading! <3 How did I do with this? It was very tricky to write at points, as I had to be mindful of the POV and the pronoun usage.

Leave me a line with your thoughts! <3 Could you relate to the protagonist in this? Did you feel what she felt? All the angst, her shyness, the fluff at the end...

On a side note, I love Mo'at always playing matchmaker. I always seem to write her with some cheek in her personality.

Want more Neteyam & Seyla? Check out Part II below which has a very steamy spice-extension. ;) Next Chapter: Part II - I Like Your Stars Better

[thornsnvultures]

eddie munson x plus size!fem!reader, 18+

a little drabble loosely based on this text post cause I was having a feeling-bad-about-my-body day and I know eddie would be having absolutely none of that ♡

---

Thick, ringed fingers holding you, pressing into where your tummy dips and fold and rolls. Your legs are spread wide, Eddie's thighs holding yours open, leaving you exposed, bared completely to the mirror in front of you. It's hard to look at first, your head turning into the soft curls at his neck, hiding from your reflection.

"Uh-uh. Look, baby. Look'it how she opens up for me."

It took a long time, learning how not to hate yourself. Learning that everything you hated about you was the opinion of someone who didn't love you, didn't care. It took a long time to look in the mirror and be okay, to accept. Not always celebrating, or loving, but sometimes admiring, appreciating. Understanding that your body didn't hold the entirety of your worth.

And Eddie did enough loving for the both of you anyway.

For a while you stayed away from skinny boys like him, afraid they'd do more damage to all that hard work. But Eddie... there was something different about him. You knew it right away. He wasn't ashamed to be seen with you, wasn't asking you to stay the night only to pretend like he didn't know who you were in front of his friends. He worshipped you, fully worshipped you properly. That can't keep his hands off you, needs you by his side 24/7, thinks you've hung the moon kind of worship.

It was intense at first. You thought he'd get tired of you, move on in a week or two have his fun until something better came along. But it's been months, years of him loving you like no one else has before and, no matter your own reservations about your body, you believe him when he tells you, when he shows you just how much.

His thick fingers delve into your core, a reward for finally looking back at your reflection. The sopping wet center of you wets his winding fingers, the sound obscene as he makes tight circles around your clit.

"The prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

You want to tease, to ask just how many he's seen to make that claim, but you can't form words with the way he's jackhammering his thick fingers in and out of your cunt.

"That's it, princess. Making such a mess for me."

Eddie presses kisses to your temple, down your soft jawline. You stare with rapt attention, jaw practically hanging to the floor and eyes glazed, hazy but laser focused on the ring of your creamy juices around Eddie's knuckles.

His fingers curl into the roof of your cunt, pushing, searching for your release like he needs it more than you do. He's begging in your ear for you to give it to him.

"Show me, princess. Shhhh, I got you," his other hand moves to your clit to work the aching nub when you whine, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Give it to me. Want you to see yourself cum. You're so pretty when you cum on my cock."

Your thighs tense and shake at the mention of his cock and you're bombarded with images of him bending you over in front of this mirror, his fat cock stuffed in your cunt to the base and before you can catch your breath you're screaming, clenching down on his fingers and wailing like a cat in heat. Your eyes never leave your sweaty, heaving body in the mirror. Full breats shuddering, shaking as you gasp for air. Your tummy clenching against Eddie's arm pressed to your middle, holding you tight.

"That's it. Fuck, that's it, baby."

Eddie drags his fingers from your pussy, pulsing and grasping for his fingers, begging them not to leave.

He catches your gaze in the mirror, watching you watching him with his fingers in his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Did so good for me, princess. So good, so beautiful."