#idle animation my beloved | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

strawberri-blonde · 1 year ago

Text

02 - Devour Me - Neteyam

02 - eating out : gotta love October for all the horniness it brings out of us!

Photo credits to @woistmeinavocado

Summary: Neteyam gets his ears pierced and you can’t handle yourself

Warning: Smut, Neteyam devours your pussy.

Masterlist

The aroma of the freshly cooked food lingers in the air, playfully teasing your senses. The scent of sizzling meat and herb-infused bread fills the atmosphere with a mouthwatering fragrance. The forest comes alive with the cheerful chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of animals, creating a symphony of nature's melodies. The tranquility of the day momentarily shields you from the bustling village nearby.

You're not one to sit idle, continually seeking ways to ease your restlessness. With the afternoon to yourself, you channel your energy into adding the finishing touches to the tent's interior. Colorful beads adorn the entrance, and baskets filled with flowers and dried fruits are thoughtfully placed around your cozy home.

As you put the final touches on the evening meal, the peaceful ambiance allows you to immerse yourself in the moment fully. So much so that you didn't hear Neteyam's infamous whistle he let out, knowing he was close to home.

As you fluffed up the last fur pillow, a tiny squeal escaped from your lips as you felt a large hand caress the back of your head from your position on the floor. "Someone's been busy." You tilted your head back to see Neteyam towering over you with a huge smile covering his features. "Sorry, my yawne; I didn't mean to scare you."

A matching grin enters your face while Neteyam bends to sit next to you. "Here." You plopped the pillow beside you so he wouldn't sit on the hard surface.

"Thank you, baby." Your hand reached towards his thigh, needing his touch from not seeing him all day. "You really are making this feel like a home." An instant lavender hue flushed your face.

Neteyam let out a giggle, kissing your face everywhere but your lips. "Teyam." You groaned out with a pout, and it made him greedy. He loved how you both couldn't get enough of each other.

"What yawne?" He slowly teased his lips as he kissed the corners of your lips. "Need something?"

Your hand trailed up his thigh to his chest. "Neteyam, don't tease. I did all this work for you."

His fangs nimble on your soft skin before finally, captivating you in a much-needed kiss. Your breathing hitches as he pulls away, and you notice something.

"Oh, Eywa, your ears." Neteyam chuckled at your shocked expression. You continue to blush as you stare at the newly pierced ears of your beloved mate. His ears are now adorned with elegant blue beads, just like yours.

He sees you staring and grins widely, seeming quite proud of his decision to get his ears pierced. You carefully run your finger along his ear to not hurt him, feeling the rough texture of the piercings against your finger as you brush away a strand of hair. "Do you like them?" You kiss his ear gently in response and tell him how beautiful he is. Your emotions run wild, and you cannot contain yourself from embracing him tightly and covering his face with kisses.

"You look so handsome, Nete." Your eyes are still glued to Neteyam's ear, fascinated by the rough texture of the earrings against your finger. You suddenly realize that you smell the fantastic aroma of the food you made for the two of you. You lean away reluctantly and turn around to grab an empty bowl, filling it with all fruit, bread, and roasted fish. Meanwhile, Neteyam is staring at you with an adored look. You blush and hand him a bowl of the delicious meal you've prepared. "Here, Nete." You say, your eyes now trained on him as you wait for his reaction.

"Yawne, that smells delicious. I can't wait to dig in!" Neteyam's voice is a melodic baritone, and a wide, mischievous smile accompanies it. Your eyes are drawn to the tiny beads on his ears, and you can't help but imagine how his face would look wearing a lot of jewelry.

You giggle and kiss him on his soft lips before grabbing yourself a bowl as well. You both moaned as the taste. "It's so good, yawne." He reaches out and takes your hand in his. You smile at each other, and your hearts beat in unison.

You stare at Neteyam lovingly as you hear him compliment your hard work. You blush, feeling silly that you are so obsessed with his earrings. To cover up your embarrassment, you focus on the dinner you have prepared.

The warrior noticed this and laughed, "I'm glad you like them, Y/n. To be honest, I was scared that you would like them?"

You furrowed your eyebrows at the comment. "Why would you say that?"

"I don't know." He gets bashful and says, "I actually want to stretch my lobes, like my mom."

You wipe the corner of your mouth, then lift your intertwined fingers, pressing kisses to his blue skin. You are surprised to hear him ask about stretching his ears. You thought the little studs he has on now looked sweet, but you are open to the idea and think it would make him look even more handsome than he already is.

"Really? I think it would suit you." You offer him a smile and watch him take another bite of the food. You tell Neteyam that he 'looks even more handsome with the piercings in his ears.' The little blue beads highlight the color of his skin and bring out his robust facial features.

Neteyam grins cheekily at you, delighted to hear you say he looks good. He finishes his dinner quickly and leans over to kiss you again. There is something more passionate and intimate to this kiss compared to others you have shared in the past; perhaps it is the new look and style to his ears.

You did like how he looked with them—just seeing them made your insides tingle. You enjoy the new look on your mate and are eager to show him your appreciation.

A moan escaped his lips as you nibbled on his top lip. Hearing his response, you pulled back, mumbling, "So sexy, yawne." You captivated his lips onto yours, crawling into his lap.

Neteyam's hands gripped your thighs almost greedily, but you didn't mind. "Y/n." The warrior groaned, making you break the kiss to his eyes and see the same fire and desire in them.

You can't contain your feelings any longer, and you grab Neteyam in a tight embrace. You kiss him passionately and feel the rush of emotions as your tongues explore each other. Your hands explore every part of his body, caressing and driving him wild with desire.

"I need you, Teyam." Without warning, Neteyam grabbed you around the waist and pushed you onto the soft mat of your home. "Teyam." You squealed out, having him hover over you.

His kisses became hungry, and your insides warmed as you ran your hands along his broad chest and pulled him closer. You can feel his excitement, and his breath is warm against your skin. "If I'd known getting my ears pierced would've made you this insensible, I would've gotten'em sooner, my love."

You couldn't help but admire his handsome face as your eyes darkened. You reached behind him, gently gathering his hair in your hand. Then, you used the twine from your wrist to pull his hair back, revealing those blue beads for you to see. "Well, now that you know," You lean forward and kiss his cheek, jaw, and neck. "Why don't you give me a show and have yourself dessert?"

Your seductive tone had Neteyam chuckling darkly. He then looks at you with a playful grin, "What kind of show do you want to see, my Yawne?"

"You know what I want." The desperation was evident in the air. Your hands clawed at his broad shoulders to show him how much you wanted him, but Neteyam already knew.

His nostrils flared at the delicious scent of your arousal, causing a growl to escape his throat, sensing vibrations through his body. "Well, yawne," you gasp at the sensation of his body on top of yours.

"Teyam." You whined out as he licked a bold line up from your collarbone to your neck, stopping just under your jaw where he stopped to nimble on your skin.

"You still haven't told me what you want."

Your moans echoed through the tent, and your loincloth began to stick to you from your wetness. Your hands grabbed his queue at the base of his skull, edging him to grind against your throbbing heat. "Please eat me, Neteyam. I need to see your new earrings in action. Need to see that pretty face devour this pussy."

"Fuck, my sweet girl." His hand flew towards your touch on his queue, tapping you to let go, and you did so eagerly. Meanwhile, Neteyam’s lips never left your body. His lips felt warm as they applied hot, wet kisses to your skin. His ears flexed, twitching as versions of his name spilled from your gaped mouth. Your legs grew antsy as they needed him to hurry up and get where you needed him the most. “My needy girl.” His large hands pushed back the decorative chest piece made from purple leaves.

“Um, hm.” You nodded your head down against the floor of your shared home; then you felt his thumbs circle your perky dark blue nipples. “Oh my.”

Seeing that your head was thrown back, Neteyam moved his hands towards the waistband of your loincloth, then ever so gently blew a slight breeze on the sensitive bud, sending goosebumps to litter the skin. Then, suddenly, he bites down on your mound, having you jerk your head in his direction. Your pussy throbs in pain from the need, angry that she wasn’t getting any attention.

“That’s right, Y/n don’t be rude.” Your face displayed a bewildered expression, with furrowed brows and wide, searching eyes filled with desperation. Your lips were slightly parted, making them look so kissable. “If you want a show, you must watch sweet girl.”

Without warning, Neteyam shifts the furry pillows you both sat on for dinner. He moves the one you usually sit on under your head, but not without cradling the back of your neck, pulling your queue from under you to prevent you from wiggling on it to the point where you might hurt yourself.

Pressing a longing kiss to your lips, he puts his cushion under your waist, closer to the base of your tail near your butt, to give him better access. After the warrior was confident that you would be comfortable, he lowered himself between your legs, finally giving you what you so depressingly wanted.

His tender kisses trail up and down your thighs, making you mumble, “Such a tease.” A toothy grin took over his features before he flicked his tongue against the cloth fabric, keeping him from the sweet goodness of your heat. “Fuck.” Your breathing got fast and heavy, and your eyes locked down on him as he quickly untangled you from the material feeling you bare to him.

“How did I get so lucky, huh, Y/n?” your hands gripped the pillow behind you as you couldn’t believe the sight. Neteyam’s eyes were so dark, so full of desire, that there was the tiniest bit of fire surrounding his pupils. His lips were swollen from the constant kisses and seeing him with his hair pulled back, which he rarely does. It was too much. Then, let's add those blue beads pierced in his ears. They made him look more mature, and more decorative. They had you swimming in your juices.

“I’m the lucky one.” Animalistic gasps left your mouth as he kissed the junction between your leg and your awaiting folds. He then spits his saliva onto your cunt, making all sorts of aired breaths escape your throat to release in the lust-filled air. “Definitely the lucky one.”

The tip of his tongue barely caressed your velvet lips, like he was holding back to teeter you over the edge, driving you wild. “Tease.” You mumbled, earning the corners of his lips to curl up in a sly grin, but your mate didn’t say anything. Neteyam only continued to flicker his tongue softly against your growing wet need.

Then suddenly, he licks up from your wet opening to your throbbing clit. “Fuck.” You moaned, looking again into his eyes, making the moment even more intense. His tongue sped up slightly, covering you in his salvia. “Teyam, please, kiss me.” His non-existent eyebrows raised, giving you a sinful look.

Without much debate, the warrior shook his head, having his tongue wiggle more into your folds, making you spew out moans. Finally, his soft wet mouth closed around you, sucking on your soft skin, making him groan that sent such vibrations onto your clit. One of your hands left the pillow to reach for the top of his head.

Neteyam didn’t mind having your nimble fingers in his silk braids. Knowing that he was turning you on to the point where you couldn’t contain yourself made him feel more like a man than when he got his Ikran. Or when he killed a Talioang all by his lonesome. None of it made him feel like a warrior more than having you scream out his name.

So, when it came to eating your pussy, Neteyam always took his time to work you out. For every open mouth kiss, he placed on your cunt, his tongue explored more parts of you, finding all the nerve endings that drove you crazy.

Broken moans were the only thing escaping your throat as his large hands slipped for your thighs to slip under you to palm your bottom. “Yeah, grab my ass baby. Yank my tail.” His tongue slipped inside your warm vaginal walls as he palmed your butt so tight you were sure you'd have bruises tomorrow, but you always wore Neteyam’s markings with pride.

The warrior pulled away, making you groan in frustration, but it was quickly replaced with a yelp as you felt his hand grab onto your tail, pulling on it and making you fully submit to him. Your bent legs spread open, allowing the large man to have all the room to devour you completely.

As his hot mouth returned to your cunt, your shared tent filled with your moans. His tongue lapped up your juices, swirled around your entrance teasingly, and slipped it into your swollen walls. “Neteyam.” You moaned as his tongue fucked itself inside of you. Your walls clenched around him from the delicious sensation.

Your hips circled against his damp face, and you couldn’t help but sink your head back into the pillow, barely looking at his performance when you felt his nose nudge your clit. But you mustered through the overwhelming sensation, worried that he might stop if you didn’t look at him, and you couldn’t let that happen.

You had slipped away from the top of his head towards your nipple to squeeze them in your hands, letting out more moans as his tongue slipped out of your cunt to circle your clit.

Neteyam saw this and moved his hands from under you to throw your legs over his broad shoulder to slip his fingers to circle the sensitive buds of your nipples and pinch them between his fingers.

“Fuck, Neteyam, so good, baby. Make me feel as unreal.” Your lower half twitched in pleasure as the warmth in your abdomen began to form.

Your breathing hitched as his mouth swallowed over you entirely. His left hand remained on your breast while the other returned to your ass, giving it a form slap. “EYWA!” you screamed out from the sensation, and his tongue rolled your clit over and over, making juices leak on your home's woven mat, and some ended up on Neteyam’s cushion.

The way Neteyam worshipped your body became too much; your orgasm was approaching. His hand slipped away from your breast, sensing that you were close.

Neteyam’s tongued continued to suck and slurp at your clit. Without warning, the warrior inserted his two fingers into your cunt, where you immediately clenched around them and arched your back.

“Neteyam, I’m so close.” You whimpered as your body was convulsing at the hands and mouth of your mate.

His fingers plunged into you at a steady pace, and his tongue was sending you to your great mother as his face nestled itself into your messy cunt. Your mouth opened, letting out broken moans as your climax finally took over your nerve-endings.

Your body continued to shake in his grasp as the euphoric feeling of your orgasm washed over you. “Tey-” you managed to squeal out before your vision got a little blurry, and your body stopped all its movements, feeling his touch's lasting effects.

Neteyam made sure to lick up all your sweetness before he gently settled the lower half of your body on the mat, then crawled over your tired body, kissing your skin softly before reaching your peaceful features. The future leader of the Omatikaya always loved seeing your face after he’d made you cum. No matter how tired you’d be after the long hours of lovemaking, a silly grin always covered your face.

As his wet lips contacted yours, your hand flew towards his face, tasting yourself on his tongue. As your tongues lazily kissed, you groaned in his mouth, making him pull away to offer you a mischievous grin. “You ready for more yawne?”

You didn’t say anything but grinned back at him, pulling him into a kiss, trailing your hands to trace the tops of his ears, making sure not to touch his freshly pierced skin. “As long as you keep these earrings and your promise to make the gages larger, you can have me every night for as long as we breathe.”

His dark blue eyes glisten in anticipation as he stares into yours. He leans in and presses his lips against yours once more. He pulls away, breathless. "Promise." He whispers seductively, gazing into your eyes, his voice a little breathless. "Every night for as long as we breathe." Your response intrigues him and arouses his desire even more. He leans in and kisses you intensely, his hands sliding along your body. The heat is unbearable, and the passion is electric, making you both so happy that you have each other for life.

Happy Day 2 of Kinktober 2023. Would you be able to give me some read recommendations, or is there a specific day you'd like me to write? Maybe, I can make it happen if I still need to write for that day.

~ Caroline

#neteyam x reader #neteyam imagine #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam smut #neteyam x omaticaya!reader #neteyam #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully #neteyam sully imagine #avatar neteyam #neteyam sully smut #neteyam suli x reader #lunaskinktober2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

232 notes · View notes

lillaydee · 3 months ago

Text

The Arrangement Epilogue

Pioneer! Joel Miller / Reader

Your life crumbled to nothing during a migration to Jackson, forcing you to agree to an arrangement just to survive.

NOTE: Possible inaccuracies in baby developments, food intake and inheritance or ownership laws coming. I really know nothing, but I needed to put some stuff in for the sake of the story line, so please forgive me and take everything in the spirit of storytelling yeah?

WARNINGS: Protective Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel Bonding (The Last of Us), Good Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Parent Joel (The Last of Us), Soft Joel (The Last of Us), Joel is Bad at Feelings (The Last of Us), Joel Needs a Hug (The Last of Us), Hurt Joel (The Last of Us), Joel Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (The Last of Us), Jealousy, Mutual Pining, Fluff and Angst, Frontier Joel, Alternate Universe - No Cordyceps Outbreak (The Last of Us), Virgin Joel, Virgin Reader, Minor Character Death, Period-typical Misogyny, Marriage of Convenience

SERIES MASTERLIST

Part 11

OK SO I HAVE ZERO SELF CONTROL SO IMMA JUST UPLOAD THE EPILOGUE TODAY TOO. HOPE YOU LIKE IT. TQ SO MUCH FOR READING! 🥰🥰🥰

---

Joel locked his front door, a bit grumpy that he had to be up this early. Ever since he started working with his father when he turned 16 last week, he had been given the very unwanted task of feeding the animals first thing in the morning, which, as far as ranch life was concerned, was the God-awful five in the morning. He felt as if he had just fallen asleep, and here he was, walking over to the family ranch with his eyes hardly opened.

The family had stayed up late last night, and he didn’t want to leave early just to catch his unfortunate, usual bedtime. It was a special event, after all.

Fifty years. That’s how long his namesake, his Pops and beloved Nana had been together. And it was hard not to feel jealous of them. They were still so very much in love. For as long as he remembered, it was rare to see one of them without the other. Pops was never an idle man, always working on something or other, and Nana was always right there, keeping him company, a project always in her hands for the grandchildren or the business. They were always talking and laughing, hands on each other at all times, giggling like teenagers in love. How a couple could go fifty years without running out of things to talk about, he never knew. But he would love to find out one day.

Considering the amount of times he heard Pops tell the same story over and over again, he was shocked to find out that he had never told anyone the story of how he and Nana had met and married in the first place. He was saving this story for their fiftieth anniversary, he had told everyone during his speech last night, the room filled with the original Millers, children and grandchildren, and family friends.

Everyone listened intently, this old man telling his family how he came to meet the love of his life, his very reason for living, his eyes full of love for her, full of nostalgia and happy memories with her.

“Thank you for a wonderful fifty years, darling, I am the luckiest man alive. My heart beats only for you, my dear. I love you so much.” He then took Nana by the hand and kissed her lovingly.

The whole room was silent. There was not a dry eye in the room. Great Uncles Will, Tommy and Benny and Great Aunts Liv, Maria and Diana were the only ones who knew the story, and even they were teary. Shockingly, not even Great Uncle Max and Great Aunt Tess knew this, despite the fact that they had all been friends for fifty years. Heck, they were the unofficial Millers.

Aunt Ellie, despite knowing she was adopted and was there from the beginning, apparently didn’t know this either. She and Aunt Sarah were inconsolable, sitting in their brother, his father’s arms while the story was being told. His father was wiping tears off his cheek, touched by his parents’ love story. The siblings went over and hugged their parents, crying into their shoulders, thanking them for being the greatest parents anyone could hope for.

If he was ever lucky enough to fall in love one day, Joel hoped he would have a story like that to tell too. And that, in his mind, was a tough one to beat.

He walked quickly in the early spring morning, wanting to get the job done as quickly as possible. Nana had promised him breakfast today. And he was never going to say no to that. He walked past the office and workshop for the tailoring business that Nana and Great Aunt Maria started, Miller Tailoring, which Aunt Sarah and Aunt Lucy, along with Aunt Ellie’s partner, Aunt Dina, now ran. Right next door was Miller’s Constructions, the business his Pops and Great Uncles started. Aunt Ellie ran it now, some of his male cousins working under her. To no one’s surprise, she was the only child from the first generation of the original Millers who had taken to carpentry and building, despite everyone being roped in for the work in the beginning. She really was her Papa’s daughter.

Joel had the option of working for either business, as everyone in the family did, but he knew squat about tailoring, taking almost ten minutes to thread a needle, and successfully crushed his thumb the first time he tried to hammer a nail in place. So here he was, headed for the ranch, which his father and Uncle Danny ran together at this ungodly hour to earn his place in the family business. Everyone starts from the bottom of the barrel, Pops had said, even family.

Pops, Nana and the great aunts and uncles were all retired now, reaping the benefits of their hard work during their youth. Apparently, the lands began as a combined less than half an acre between the four families. They had expanded to over 70, and there were talks of expanding further.

Joel hurried, the morning chill that still came with early spring starting to get to him. He quickly did his tasks, some of the ranch hands already there, making sure he performed them up to standards. By the time he finished, the sun was up, and he quickly ran to his Pops and Nana’s to get that promised breakfast, always a treat. He needed it for the rest of his work day, after all.

He and his cousins loved their grandparents. Loved the advantage of living in close quarters with everyone. Pops and Nana’s house was basically sanctuary. No one could be harmed if they were there. Hugs from Nana were the best, her beef and vegetable stew even better.

Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his Mama all learned how to make that stew, but none of them could quite get it to taste exactly like Nanas. If he was lucky, he could have whatever’s left of that delicious stew she made for Pops last night for breakfast, that is, if Pops hadn’t devoured all of it himself after everyone left. It was his favourite meal, despite the unfortunate event that was the stew’s first try, which left everyone howling last night. Pops claimed it was delicious, to which Great Aunt Maria answered with a quick “Heck no it wasn’t,” to a roar of laughter from everyone. Pops then told everyone that he would eat it every day if it meant staying married to Nana, earning him a kiss from her. She still blushed every time they kissed. It really was the sweetest thing to behold.

Sometimes, they stayed over just to hear Nana read to Pops, his head in her lap, her hand scratching his head absentmindedly. He knew Pops could read. He distinctly remembered him reading contracts and newspapers. Apparently he could not read very well when they first married, and the habit of listening to her read to him stuck. And after all these years, they still kept that tradition alive, even if the grandchildren joined in. But Pops always had one restriction for these sessions - her lap was for his use only, much to his grandchildren’s chagrin. Greedy, greedy, greedy.

When he approached, the house was still dark. He knocked on the front door, placing the jars of fresh milk he had brought for them on the bench that supposedly no one was allowed to use ever, it was their special bench, that and the swing overlooking the land. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father had often complained that their only times spent on that swing were back when they still couldn’t form memory, how unfair!

Weird, Joel and his cousins used to think – he and his cousins played on that swing all the time, Pops and Nana watching them happily. Maybe it’s true, parents and grandparents had different rules and standards, even if they were the exact same people.

There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time, just for good measure. The grandchildren had always been warned again and again by their parents to knock when visiting Pops and Nana. You never knew what those two were up to behind closed doors. Apparently, the three siblings found out the hard way. What they saw still haunted them to this day.

There was still no answer, so Joel used the key everyone seemed to have and unlocked the front door. The house was quiet. It was almost seven, it was quite unthinkable that they were still asleep, even with last night’s festivities. Early birds get the worms, Pops always said.

He didn’t know why, but standing there in that familiar room, there was an unease in his heart. He ran up the stairs and frantically knocked on their bedroom door. Nothing. He knocked again, yelling for his Pops and Nana, his heart beating fast. He opened the door and rushed in.

There they were, still in bed, the framed old kerchief and lace hankerchief with their initials in the corners on the wall above their head. They were facing each other, looking so peaceful and in love. Pops holding Nana close to his chest with his right arm, his left holding her right hand between their bodies, fingers entwined, legs tangled, his lips on her forehead.

They looked like they were sleeping, but his heart was telling him otherwise.

Joel nervously went over and tried to wake his Nana, his hand jerking back as soon as he noticed how cold her skin was, as was his Pops’, his cheek wet with drying tears.

He ran out, gunning it towards the other houses, screaming for his parents, his siblings, his cousins, his aunts and uncles, great aunts and great uncles, for everyone. Everyone came out, still dressed in pyjamas, getting their housecoats to go over. Joel was inconsolable, begging for someone to help his Pops and Nana. His Uncle Marcus, the family doctor, ran ahead to their house.

Their bedroom was soon filled with heartbroken sobs. Aunts Ellie and Sarah laid on the bed with their parents, his father sitting at Pops’s feet, tears flowing out of their eyes.

Nana had left first, peacefully, in her sleep, Uncle Marcus later told everyone. Pops must have woken up to his lifeless wife, and held her close, mourning her, before his own heart gave out. His body was warmer than hers when Marcus got there, the tears on his face still drying.

“He died of a broken heart,” Aunt Sarah had tearily whispered.

No one could find reason to disagree with her.

Pops wasn’t exaggerating after all. His heart really did beat for her.

**********

They buried the beloved lovebirds in a single casket, the great uncles coming out of retirement to build their brother and sister a special one to fit them both. Aunt Ellie, Aunt Sarah and his father helped prepare their parents for burial, leaving their fingers entwined. They chose the spot where the swing stood. The one Pops had built for Nana. The two would sit there for hours in each other’s arms, looking at the view, the land it covered now part of their legacy.

Aunt Ellie played the guitar, tearfully singing the lullaby her beloved Mama used to sing for her and her siblings, and later her nieces and nephews to sleep.

The family stood in silence for a long time after the burial, remembering this couple who had devoted their lives to each other for fifty happy years, so in love with each other that they couldn’t bear to part from one another, even in death.

Their love for each other was the definition of romance. Their love story was one of fairy tales and dreams. One that was all-consuming. A love that inspires love stories, poems and songs for generations to come.

And to think it all began as a marriage of convenience.

Just an arrangement.

#joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction

37 notes · View notes

popponn · 1 year ago

Text

a hug and some words. [mikage reo x f!reader]

note: reo seems like a soft someone who knows how to cheer someone up. like he seems like someone who has a lot of arsenal for that you know. warning: light allusion to bad day and insecurity, prince & princess as pet names, but mostly fluff and comfort for everyone, especially you who needs a hug rn. i offer u, domestic cohabitation cuddling baby. and @yoisami saki bby i write reo (✿ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)⁾⁾ i hope u like it darling

When you suddenly threw your arms around him, Reo’s first reaction was to blink. Before you buried your face to his chest, fondly and tiredly, you noted how it was adorable.

“Oh, you are home?” he asked as he took off the earphones he wore. A hand reaching out to wrap itself around your waist. “Didn't hear you coming in. Welcome home.”

Feeling another hand reaching out to your hair and gently resting on it, you couldn't help but nuzzle further into Reo’s chest. It felt odd being the one coming home searching for this. Most of the time, it was him being busier than ever with you already sitting somewhere in the penthouse the two of you share, ready to spoil him at a moment’s notice.

Nonetheless, it was comforting.

“I’m home,” you said, muffled by the soft fabric of his sweater. It seemed to be the one you bought some time ago. It wasn't as expensive as most of his clothing, but Reo seemed to like it. It made you want to coo, or talk to him about it—as an idle chat for any other ordinary day. Yet, this time you could only take note of it silently and let your fatigue seep in, weighing down your body as you felt like you were turning into a lump inside Reo’s hug.

“…did something happen today?” Reo ask softly, shifting his back to lay down on the sofa all while also dragging you along with him, letting you rest your head on his chest still whilst your legs rest in between his.

“Nothing,” you answered shortly. You tried to keep your tone as light as possible, but Reo is sharp. It wouldn't surprise you if he didn't buy it.

Reo raised an eyebrow at your response. “Yeah. No way. Fess up, who makes my princess look so pouty?” Reo pressed as he kissed one of your eyelids softly.

“I’m not pouting,” you protested, half-hearted and almost grumbling.

“Say that when you are really not,” he replied easily, the teasing lilt in his voice mismatching the gentle expression he wore. Yet again, you were reminded of how he truly was almost like a prince in every aspect. That thought filled your mind with both petals and mud, at that moment. He truly is wonderful. Way too wonderful for you even, perhaps.

You didn't know what sort of face that you made. You truly hope it wasn't the face of an ugly someone pretending to be a princess to his prince. But whatever it was, it certainly made Reo’s smile wane away.

He stayed silent for another few seconds, simply staring at you. Then, he asked again, softer yet with more weight in his tone, “…seriously, what happened?”

It was a bit unnerving how the tone he used made you almost want to spill everything out. From the first to the last. Gladly, unfortunately, the fatigue won and overwhelmed you. Breathlessly and bitterly, you just laughed and turned your head away. “Many things. I don't know. Can I just tell you later, really?”

Faintly, you could feel the thumping of his heartbeat against your ear. It felt calming, along with the hand that someone had snaked around and fiddled with the hem of your top since who knows when. You feel terrible—look at him, your beloved. as perfect as always, understanding and affectionate, concerned and caring, and you can't even return all those. Maybe you truly were—

“Okay. Sure, then let's talk about them later—ah, just saying I'm holding that promise though, okay!” Reo said, tightening his hold around your waist. Once again he moved around slightly, a bit ungraceful but somehow very cute like a particularly adorable small animal, trying to bring you upward a little bit more. The moment he managed to get your face closer to his, he let his chin rest on the crown of your head. “Now, watch this shitty opera with me. This one is really shit. But I’m curious about who will she end up with, so you have to suffer through this with me.”

As Reo swiftly returned to the foreign telenovela in his phone, you blinked absentmindedly. You could have sworn it was a soccer match minutes ago when you arrived. Did you see it wrong? Reo actually has an interest in some tacky soap opera? That was new. You kind of wanted to laugh, even though it stunned you. How were you supposed to react—

Oh.

“…do you really want to watch or is this some attempt to cheer me up? Just saying the latter will make me feel stuffs already,” you said as the female protagonist started slapping someone who was probably her evil stepmother.

Reo made a hum that sounded way too smug. While it wouldn't be surprising if this guy has a “cheer up darling” plan or such with an equally embarrassing name, you didn't really expect this. “And it's working, isn't it? Isn't your prince amazing?”

“Eh,” you scoffed. You wished you could answer him jokingly, but out of many many things inside your heart, you couldn't even lie for a harmless banter. With a gaze that you hoped was enough to say everything to him, you nudged at him slightly. “He is, of course. enough that I wonder how could a peasant like me deserve him.”

Hearing your answer, Reo glanced away from his screen and let his eyes wander to yours. There was something you couldn't quite put into words at that moment. But, you were fully aware of how your breath hitched when the quirks on his lips grew wider.

“Well, let's see,” Reo said, with a hand caressing shapes on top of your hip, “Do you really want to hear them all, Princess?”

#bllk #bllk imagines #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #blue lock imagines #bllk fluff #drabbles #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #bllk reo #reo fluff #reo x reader #thought damn a hug is so nice and then i went to town. also cheesy prince and princess is cute let me live #i didn't expect to write him this soon but reo mood is in the air #writing this comfort me in some ways #hope you who read it also feel comfort or at least enjoy it

331 notes · View notes

violethursday · 2 months ago

Note

back to the classics

Pleasant Aroma Agent 4 my beloved ❤

Fun fact: There's a mod on Game Banana that replaces the idle wait animation with this pose!

#ask box #ask answered #splatoon #Splatoon mod #agent 4 #Ah! What a pleasant aroma!

21 notes · View notes

sorry-i-forgot · 3 months ago

Text

Despite my love hate relationship with this game, Lucanis has won mine (and my rook's) heart. The brainrot is so real and so is my writing degree have some tidbits and screenshots for free. Rook is Hanina Mercer (Hanina meaning 'your glory') a dalish foundling sold into "adoption" to a insignificant military family trying to get a one-up by adding new mage blood into the mix. Was briefly an abomination herself when possessed by a rage demon (I stg I didn't even know Lucanis had a demon I'd purposefully avoided spoilers before launch) with fire now being her expertise. She's gregarious, sarcastic (purple rook my beloved), and deadly in a fight. The orb & blade combo is so hot both literally and figuratively. The playful headstrong mage switching to unabashed concern and care on a dime -- Lucanis did not stand a chance. And honestly neither did she because NO ONE has ever offered Hanina 'Rook' Mercar anything without wanting something in return and they certainly have never cooked a fucking meal for her. Anyway I just think the moral dilemma of an elven child being taken from her original parents and facing a terrible fate only to be given quality housing, food, education, etc all with the understanding it's only because of her blood is mind-bending -- especially when she joins the Shadow Dragons with the purpose of freeing more of her "true people" only to be faced with the choice of saving her "home" or Treviso; a choice that will end up hurting her more than she cares to admit no matter what she decides. All while she's tasked with saving all of Thedas from the ancient gods of the people she was forcibly disconnected from so many years before.

i swear half his idle animation is leaning against objects, not that i'm complaining... also i could not turn off ui dont come for me

22 notes · View notes

emisanemu · 2 months ago

Text

*°Almost Me Again°*

Aaron (Raleigh) x Plus-sized! Fem! Reader

Word count: ~7000

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Minor character death, smut, cursing, accurate in depth descriptions of body parts, Negan, mentions or murder and death, unprotected sex, PiV, fingering, nipple sucking, female anatomy, male anatomy.

Genre: Slight Angst, smut, fluff, friends to lovers.

{Author’s note: yes, I am acutely aware of the fact Aaron is gay, this is an OOC fanfic where he chooses to sleep with a woman. If you do not like it, don’t read it, I am not erasing the character’s identity or what have you, it’s my own interpretation.}

It was a quiet night along the vast stretches of Alexandria, for the first time in a long time the air was filled with the subtle chirping of crickets and the crackling of leaves fluttering to the ground. The usual rot that fills the air is instead replaced by the scent of fresh tomatoes growing in the makeshift garden, and the nostril nipping aroma of embers from the small fire pit Deaana had built just beyond her home. This, the quiet, the peace, the assurance was all new to you, having spent the last two or so years betweens camps and the unforgiving roads. You had arrived around a day after Rick’s group, covered in mud, blood, and looking utterly filthy, the ‘guards’ on post at the front gates had at first mistaken you for a walker, that was until you vehemently protested being shot. The look of shock on their faces that you were not some rotter would have been comical if it wasn't so utterly pitiful. That had been roughly two and a half months ago, not that you made a habit of keeping track of the hours or days any longer, not that it would matter, each day just seems to blend together, or at least it did for a very long time.

Now, for the first time in years, you truly yearned to savour life, to savour the setting sun and the quiet nights. Simply just surviving had faded into living, to actually living for the first time in what seemed like forever. Although, despite the euphoria that came with safety, you could not help but to feel restless at times, unable to sleep, still on edge as if you were hiding out in some dingey cave again rather than sleeping in a bed. You stood up from the bed, your cold, sockless feet settling against the shaggy carpeted floor below you, cringing slightly as the aged wood beneath creaks slightly. A lot had happened since your arrival, the joining of the various communities surrounding Alexandria, the loss of many beloved members of the community, including the leader herself, Deeanna, Negan endlessly terrorizing Alexandria as well as the other communities, and the impending ‘war’. You wanted to hunt the man down and kill him yourself, anything to return to the previous sense of peace and serenity you had once known, yet your fear of succumbing to the fate so many others had fallen to, held you back. So instead you remained placid and idle, offering your services when needed, but not putting yourself too far out on the line.

You slowly meander across the carpeted floor to the white door of the room, hoping to whatever higher power, if you even believed in one anymore, that you wouldn’t wake your housemate, Aaron. The pairing was unconventional to say the very least, but Rick’s group, at first, were not the epitome of trusting, and the other residents of Alexandria had looked upon you as if you were some wild animal who had wandered into the community. Aaron, as well as Eric when he was still alive, had not. Just as they had welcomed in the rabid, almost feral Daryl Dixon, they had welcomed you in as well, scars, dirt, and all. You were always thankful for them, for the kind solace they had offered you, Eric’s death had hurt you, but it hadn’t affected anyone more than Aaron. When you saw him, you swore you saw a shell of a man walking amongst the rest of the community, wandering and fighting almost aimlessly. You slowly make your way out of the room and creep past Aaron’s room and to the stairs, cringing each time the floor sighs and creaks.

Although, when you reach the bottom of the staircase and turn towards the living room, you silently jolt in surprise at Arron’s figure sitting with his back turned towards you on the couch. His head is down and you can hear the distinct sound of sniffles coming from between his lips, which sends a spark of sadness and empathy through your heart.

“Aaron?”

You speak softly, like a gentle coo, almost as if you are beckoning a frightened animal, which you know feels a tad condescending, but you cannot help but want to offer comfort, rather than questioning and judgement. He all but whips around, his eyes are red and puffy with still flowing tears, and his face is wet, he looks like a man broken by the world, left shattered and in pieces. He knows he looks pathetic, almost pitiful, sitting in the dark, quiet living room, crying as if he is some young child. He does not want to appear weak like that, like some kind of broken mirror of his former self, shattered and splintered apart by the events of his life, by the loss of his love. He swiftly wipes the tears from his face, hoping desperately you had not seen them fall in the first place, even though he knows from that worried look on your face that you had.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He speaks softly, his voice gravelly from crying, all you do is gingerly shake your head and step forward, your voice a quiet croon as you speak. “No, I couldn’t sleep…you’re fine.”

Your reassuring smile that you flash him does little to quell the ache deep in his chest that melts and seeps far into his bones like a sickness that can never be cured. You walk slowly towards him, as if you are scared of spooking him, which only serves to deepen the pit within his stomach, making him feel smaller, as if he is physically shrinking in on himself. He can still feel the sting in the corners of his eyes, remaining from his previous fit of choked tears. He almost wants to protest your presence, to vainly insist that he is fine, when without a single doubt, he is far from being fine, so far he doesn’t think he even remembers what feeling ‘fine’ means. You stop just in front of him, tentative to move or speak, the air feels thick, as if it could be cut with the edge of a knife. Yet, unexpectedly, your presence doesn’t crowd him, rather it blankets him in a rare form of peace, the warmth and earnest radiating off of you in waves, like a soothing balm to his perpetual aching soul. Just you being there causes his heart to ache in a way that he doesn’t quite know how to explain, although, he doesn’t know if he even wants to explain in, or just allow it to fester, to bubble beneath the surface.

He wishes in this moment he could pull back, to retreat somewhere secret and deep within himself, where comfort can not find him. He feels so undeserving of solace, undeserving of peace, not after what happened to Eric, not when he feels it is so deeply his fault. Eric had been hesitant, not wanting to fight, insistent on being the even benevolent, peaceful presence, yet he had chosen to protect Aaron, something Aaron had failed to do so in return. He almost wishes he had left and taken Eric with him, started something new away from it all, protected his peace, protected his love. He had chosen what feels to be an unwinnable fight over what he knew in his heart would have been the right thing, and for what? For people he barely knew? For a community he didn’t even know if he believed in anymore? All of it seems to pale in comparison to the ever loving, ever steadying presence that Eric was. When he looks up into your eyes, and sees that glimmer, the shine of empathy and understanding, it lights a fire of self loathing within him that threatens to burn him from the inside out, to tear down the weak walls he has built up, to tear him down.

“You don’t have to pretend, Aaron.”

Your voice is a soft soothing murmur when you speak, so earnest and sweet it almost physically pains him. He turns away, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands white knuckling the arm of the recliner he is sitting on. The way you speak, despite himself, makes his heart stutter in his chest and his breath hitch slightly, and all he wants in that moment is to dive into that pool of delicious warm relief that you offer. The way your eyes glow with unspoken affection and care, it makes him feel things he has buried so far down he never thought he’d feel them again. Everything about you is a tempting, fragile thread pulling him closer, urging him to let go of the walls he’s built, the armor he’s worn for so long. But fear grips him, cold and sharp, like a phantom clawing at his insides. If he gives in, if he leans into you—into this softness—will it break him? Will he lose himself in the comfort you offer, only to be torn apart when the world turns against him again? He swallows hard, trying to steady his breathing, but it only makes everything worse. The beat of his heart quickens, and for a moment, he’s paralyzed, caught between the need for your warmth and the panic that comes with letting someone in again.

“You don’t have to face it alone…” You place a gentle hand onto his shoulder, a soothing, caring, yet simple gesture. “...and you don’t have to keep blaming yourself.”

Your voice sounds like syrupy gospel to his ears, and your hand on his shoulder sends sparks through him, all the way to his core, shaking him slightly. His jaw tightens at the simplicity of it, the truth in your words that cuts right through him. He wants to believe you, wants to hold onto the idea that there’s more than just survival left in this world. That there’s something here worth saving. But how could he? How could he after everything he’s seen, everything he’s lost? It’s easier to stay numb, to keep his heart locked away behind walls too high to climb. But, you make it so immensely difficult by simply being who you are, by being so open and understanding, even in the face of everything you hold a flame of hope he can only hope to have.

“I…” He starts, his voice hoarse, not entirely sure of what he’s trying to say. Words are too hard to come by right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, the crack in his voice betraying him. “I don’t know how to let anyone in again.”

The words fall from his lips like a weight, heavy and raw, and the ache that swells in his chest feels almost unbearable. He hates how broken they sound. He hates how much he wants to crawl into the comfort of your presence and just stay there, hidden from everything, but he’s too afraid to. Afraid of being hurt again, afraid of the pain that might come if he gives his heart to someone only for it to be torn away. But something about you... it makes him want to believe again. It makes him wonder if there’s a sliver of hope left in a world so empty. His hands tighten around the armrest of the recliner, his knuckles white, as if bracing for impact. He can't let you see the way his heart falters, the way it aches with longing and fear all at once. He’s afraid if he does, it will ruin everything—everything he’s built up over the years. But when he looks at you, when he sees the care in your eyes, the quiet strength you’ve always carried, he wonders if maybe it’s time to let go

“I….” He trails off, not sure how to force the words from his throat, how to admit the one thing he’s tried so hard to push down, to hide even from himself, knowing it’s too painful at times to admit. “I don’t know how to forgive myself, he’d still be here if it weren’t for me.”

He admits weakly, so quiet he almost hopes you didn’t hear him, but the way your hand falls away from his arm, tells him all that he needs to know. Despite himself, another hot, wet tear slides down the length of his cheek, pooling at his furry, bearded chin. He half expects you to just walk away, to leave him in his never ending self-loathing, yet you don't, instead you shock him as the warm pad of your thumb rubs underneath his eye, wiping away his stray tear. The motion is gentle, intimate in a way that sends an electric current straight to his chest. His heart stutters at the softness of your touch, and he feels something in him crack wide open. He had braced himself for the silence, for the distance he’d come to expect when he let people in too far. But your hand is warm, steady, and unwavering. It offers something he hasn’t felt in so long—hope.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, and he wonders if you can feel how much those words sink into him. “And you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry the weight of it all.”

His breath hitches, chest tightening, as he looks at you. The fear that has always gripped him, the guilt that has suffocated him ever since he lost so much, now collides with the raw tenderness in your eyes. He’s not sure if he’s ready to confront the truth, if he’s ready to let go of the guilt that has haunted him for so long. But the sincerity in your gaze makes it hard to hold back any longer.

“I couldn’t save him,” Aaron chokes out, his voice trembling. “If I’d done things differently—if I’d just been there...” You shake your head gently, cutting off his spiraling thoughts. “You can’t carry the weight of things you couldn’t control,” you say softly. “It’s not your fault, Aaron. You did everything you could. But sometimes... sometimes, we lose people no matter how hard we try to hold on. It’s the world we’re in.”

The way you speak, so matter-of-fact but with such compassion, makes his heart ache. You’re not excusing his pain, not pretending that it doesn’t matter. But you’re giving him space to feel it without letting it consume him entirely. The words are raw, and they cut deep, but somehow, with you there, they feel less suffocating. He feels something shift in him—a slight easing of the burden that’s been crushing him for so long. It’s almost as if the weight of his past—the guilt, the fear, the grief—can finally breathe for the first time. It’s still there, lingering in the shadows, but it no longer holds the same power over him. He doesn’t know if he’s ready to let it all go just yet, but with you beside him, he feels like maybe it’s possible. Just maybe. He swallows thickly, his throat tight with emotion, but he doesn’t pull away from you. In fact, he leans closer, seeking the comfort in the steady presence you’ve offered him without hesitation. You’ve become his anchor, even when he feels like he’s about to be swallowed by the storm inside his own chest.

“I don’t deserve your kindness,” he mutters, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but it feels truer than ever now. He’s lived a life of mistakes, of things lost, of people gone. How could someone like him deserve someone so full of warmth, someone who sees him without judgment? You shock even yourself when you speak up, your tone almost angry, angry that he could talk about himself like that. “How can you say that?”

You speak more forcefully than you initially intend to, but your voice isn’t harsh, instead it holds an air of hurt, both for yourself and for him. Your hand falls away once more and you take a step back, your chest feeling tight, almost painfully tight. He looks at you with shocked, wide eyes, thrown off by your outburst, never quite seeing you act in such a way, he has seen you act fiercely, but never towards him. Your voice isn’t harsh, but there’s a rawness to it, as if the words are more than just for him—they’re for you too. You take a step back, your chest tight, the pressure rising within you. You can feel the weight of the emotion swirling in your throat, fighting to break free. You weren’t expecting to react this way, but something about seeing him so broken, so full of self-loathing, cuts deep. Aaron looks at you in stunned silence, eyes wide with confusion. He’s never seen you act like this, not toward him. You’ve always been gentle with him, understanding, patient, but now there’s something different in the way you stand. There’s a fire in your eyes, a desperate need for him to see himself as you see him.

“I don’t understand,” you continue, your voice more quiet now, but still fierce. “Why do you think you don’t deserve kindness? Why are you punishing yourself like this?” Your hand falls away from him, fingers curling into a fist at your side, unable to keep your frustration from showing. “You’ve been through so much, Aaron. I see you. I see the good in you. I know what you’ve done, what you’ve lost, but you’ve also given everything to keep others alive. You deserve kindness.”

The words settle into the space between you like a quiet storm, and Aaron’s gaze falters. His eyes drop to the floor, his shoulders tense, the familiar weight of guilt pulling him further inward. There’s a heaviness in the air, the kind that only comes when someone is too full of emotion to express it, and it settles heavily on his chest.

“But I’ve made so many mistakes,” he whispers, almost to himself. “I’ve lost too much. And people... people died because of me. I couldn’t protect them.” He swallows, his voice shaking with the admission. “I don’t deserve to feel good, I don’t deserve forgiveness, not after everything.” You step forward, your heart aching for him. You know the kind of pain he’s carrying. You can see it in the way his body tightens at the mention of loss, the way his words tremble like they’re coming from a place too dark to reach. But you refuse to let him pull away. “You didn’t kill him, Aaron, you loved him, more than I have ever seen a person love someone. You didn’t kill Eric, the world did, and you can not keep blaming yourself for that.”

You speak earnestly, so much so your words nearly make him ache. You lift a hesitant hand to his cheek, caressing his stubbly, pale skin gently, tracing along his scars and the lines along his face with the tips of your fingers. He shivers gently at the contact, he hasn’t so much as had a hug since Eric died, your simple, caring touch sends shocks through his system, and causes his heart to pound dangerously against his ribcage. It is foreign to him, never had he thought he would have butterflies in his stomach for anyone but Eric, especially someone of the fairer sex, yet, they flutter treacherously in his gut making him feel almost nervous. His eyes flutter closed for a moment as your touch lingers, the unexpected warmth grounding him, pulling him away from the spiraling thoughts he has been carrying for so long. The weight of his past, the mistakes, the loss—it all becomes a little less suffocating, softened by the gentleness in your touch. He never realized how starved he’d been for this kind of tenderness, how much he'd longed to be seen and cared for again. It’s almost disorienting. To feel this much, to feel this good, after everything. He can’t remember the last time he felt safe enough to let go, to trust someone. To feel like he matters. But right now, with your fingers lightly tracing the contours of his face, everything feels a little more bearable. The heaviness in his chest isn’t gone, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel so alone in it.

“Aaron…” Your voice is soft, quiet, and it makes him want to close the distance between you, to allow himself to sink into the warmth and safety you’re offering. His heart flutters unsteadily at the way you say his name, the care in your tone pulling at something deep inside of him. He’s so afraid of feeling this way, but he can’t stop it. And, despite the fear, he doesn’t want to. Not anymore.

His breath catches as you step even closer, your presence overwhelming in the best way possible. He finds himself reaching for you without thinking, his hand trembling slightly as it moves to rest on the curve of your waist. The simple touch feels monumental—his pulse racing beneath his skin, reminding him of the emotions he’s spent so long suppressing. Before he can stop himself, his hand moves, lifting gently to cup your cheek. His thumb brushes against the soft skin there, tracing the curve of your jawline. The touch is almost too tender, like he’s afraid he’ll break something precious. But he doesn’t pull back. The space between you grows even thinner, and you can see the war in his eyes—the battle between wanting to pull away and desperately wanting to lean in. The tension in the air is palpable, but it doesn’t feel like pressure; it feels like something waiting, something he’s not sure he’s ready for but can’t fight anymore. Without thinking, his face inches closer, just enough for his lips to hover over yours. He can feel the heat from your breath, feel your pulse thrum beneath his fingertips. He hesitates for a moment, just a moment, his eyes flicking to yours, searching for reassurance. You don’t pull away. In fact, you close the last inch of distance between you with a slow, deliberate movement, your lips brushing his with the gentlest of touches.

It’s like the world shifts beneath them, everything but the two of you fading into nothingness. The kiss is tentative at first, a soft, hesitant thing as if you’re both testing the waters—neither one of you is sure what the next step will be, but both of you are willing to take it. His heart is pounding in his chest, and for a moment, he wonders if you can feel the thrum of it through the space between you, through the kiss. But then, something shifts. The kiss deepens, and Aaron finds himself unable to resist any longer. He pulls you closer, his hand slipping to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. He’s not sure if it’s the fear of losing you or the raw emotion that has built up inside him over the months, but it’s everything at once—comfort, fear, need, desire. His lips taste of mint, coffee, and something so distinctly him that it all but turns your brain to mush and leaves you completely and utterly breathless.

Your lips taste of some kind of lip balm he assumes you must have found on a recent supply run, mixed with mint toothpaste and something fruity that he can't quite identify, but it is oh so addicting. He almost can’t help as his tongue darts out from behind his lips to caress yours, asking silently for entrance into your mouth, which to even your surprise, you grant without a moment of hesitation. His tongue, commanding yet tender, slips beyond the barrier of your lips, nudging at your own, spongy pink organ, caressing and feeling the waiting cavern of your mouth.

~18+ beyond this point~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He moans, a small gruff noise that bubbles up from the back of his throat, into your mouth. It vibrates past your lips and down the column of your throat, your hand comes up, gripping almost desperately at the front of his shirt, your mind warring between pushing him back and pulling him impossibly closer. His appreciative, desire fueled moan sends shocks straight to your core, and your panties. Despite the want and yearning that is pooling in your lower abdomen like a coiling snake, you pull away, although your resolve almost crumbles as his mouth chases after yours. The hand you have on his chest stops him, and instead his forehead presses against yours, his breathing heavy and mingling with yours. He can feel his own desire swirling deep within himself, the hardness in his pants that is pressing into your lower stomach a testament of that. Aaron’s eyes bore into yours, his breath still hot against your mouth. He’s waiting, waiting for you to make the next move, to decide if you’ll give in to the unspoken heat between you. His hand grips your waist possessively, his other comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your swollen lower lip. You feel the pressure of his fingers as he grabs your waist, his touch burning you through your clothes. You swallow hard, trying to find the right words.

“Are you sure?” You whisper softly, your breathing still laboured, your hand is pressed gently against his chest, your fingers splayed against the black fabric of his shirt. He wants to laugh, you’re so caring, still so soft despite the cruel world that surrounds you both, he just caresses your chin and utters a simple, “Yes,” before he swoops his head down and reconnects your lips with his.

Your eyes widen slightly at his boldness, but then flutter closed at the feel of his slightly chapped lips against yours and his stubbly mustache pressing against the skin underneath your nose and you allow yourself to melt into the passionate embrace of his kiss. His right hand slides up from your chin to the back of your hair, tangling into the locks of your hair and pulling you closer, the one at your waist squeezes your hip through the fabric of your bed pants, the soft plush expanses squishing beneath his grip. His hands are firm but still tentative as he explores you, squeezing at your hips, sides, and back, yet never straying down past your waist, ever being the respectful man that he is. Your left hand glides up from his chest to his face, gasping his cheek, the pad of your thumb caressing his beard clad jaw, while the other hand goes almost tentatively to his shoulder.

Your eyes threaten to fly open with shock as he sits back onto the recliner, pulling you along with him so you end up on his lap, straddling either side of his thighs. The contact even surprises him, it is all so new to him, you’re so delicate and feminine against him, the soft, chubby curves of your body pressing against his lean muscular form in a way he has so solemnly experienced. He allows his lips to move away from your lips and down your jaw, another moan bubbling up from his throat at the soft feel of your jaw against his mouth. His hand slides down to grip the meaty flesh of your thigh through your bed pants, again, heat spreads through him at the soft tantalizing curves of your plush body beneath his calloused fingertips. He kisses along the side of your neck, allowing his tongue to dart out, giving himself a taste of your sweet, silken skin, you taste of salty sweat, some faint soap, and something so uniquely you that it all but makes his head spin. Your breath catches in your throat as his lips trail down your neck, sending tingles throughout your body. You lean into his touch, tilting your head to give him better access. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping gently as waves of pleasure wash over you. His hands continue to roam your curves, kneading and caressing with a reverent tenderness. You rock your hips instinctively, drawing a low groan from him that vibrates against your skin. The sound ignites a fire deep within you.

His strong, warm hand traveled higher, reaching beneath your sleepwear to caress your stomach, sending shivers down your spine. You gasped, and he immediately froze, his breath hot on your earlobe. "Are... are you alright?" he rasped out, his voice thick with arousal yet clouded with concern. His fingers were lightly tracing hypnotic patterns on your belly, the calluses on his fingertips sending goosebumps across your skin.

You manage a weak nod as his hands dance up and underneath your bed shirt, caressing and feeling the smooth expanses of your skin, squeezing your plushness gently between his fingers. The pads of his fingertips explore every dimple, freckle, and stretch mark along your skin as if he is adventuring the Earth itself, worshipping your skin, because in that moment you are his own personal heaven. His goddess to pray to at bended knee, his solace in a world so broken, and the glue that can fix a broken, shattered man. Sure there were better ways for this to happen, when he is more clear headed and put together, where he can delicately drape you across his bed and feel every part of you so deeply. Yet, he can not bring himself to move, partially because he doesn’t dare snap you out of this haze, nor does he want to move away from you for even a fraction of a second, revelling too much in your warmth and your desire for him. When your hips rock forward, almost on their own accord, he lets out what can be described as a low growl of approval against the side of your neck, right where your clavicle meets your shoulder.

His hands slide up higher, finding the heavy, fleshy mounds of your breasts, nearly weighing them in his grip, squeezing and squishing the soft plush of your chest. You let out a small, breathy gasp and arch into him, pushing your breasts further into his gentle grip, which causes him to smile into the skin of your shoulder. His thumbs react in an exploring manner, brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples, playing and swirling around the buds gently. A shiver goes through you at the touch, and a small moan falls from your lips, your hands tighten in his hair, pulling at the deep chocolate coloured locks. His lips move back upwards, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses up the side of your neck to your ear. The heat of his breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine, and heat rushing towards your core.

“You’re so beautiful,” He rasps huskily against your ear, his hands squeezing your breasts as if to emphasize his point. “So perfect and beautiful.”

His mouth pulls away from the side of your neck for a mere moment to pull your loose bed shirt up and over your head, allowing it to fall haphazardly onto the carpeted living room floor. He pauses, and for the first time since his lips touched yours, he feels unsure, he is just completely and utterly mesmerized by the sight of your bare front. The heavy, plush curves of your breasts, the hard peaks of your nipples, the plush mound of your stomach, the hills and valleys of your stretch marks and the dimpling along your skin. You look like magic in human form, so aggressively beautiful and feminine, it causes his breath to hitch in his throat. He swallows deeply and allows instinct to guide his mouth towards your chest where his lips envelop your hardened nipple, pulling the aching bud into his mouth and swirling around the peak with his hot, wet tongue. Again, you arch into his touch, your breasts pressing into his face causing his beard to rub at your soft, sensitive skin, sending another needy mewl to fall from your lips, almost yearning and begging for him.

His ministrations become more desperate and feverish as he allows the sensitive bud of your nipple to slide between his teeth where he nibbles gently. He smirks against your bare breast at the way you moan almost needily for him, your hands pushing his face deeper into your skin. His free hand, the one that isn’t lavishing your other nipple with attention to match the movements of his mouth, slides down past your stomach to the waistband of your sleep pants. Your breath catches in your throat as his fingers tease the edge of your pants and his blue eyes glance upwards, searching for the permission he so desperately craves. Words don’t seem to find you in this moment as you just almost too eagerly nod your head, something you would be embarrassed about if you weren’t so blindingly desperate for him. His hand slips down past your waistband, immediately seeking out that warm, slick heat between your legs. He feels a little out of his depth as his fingertips glide along the edge of your panties, feeling your slick that has dampened the fabric. It is different and new, yet rather than feeling trepidation he feels anticipation as he slides his fingers further down to push your panties aside.

He almost gasps as his finger makes contact with your hot, soft, wet skin, his pointer and middle digits slide down through your slit, gathering the wet arousal onto them. A soft moan escapes your lips at his touch. You arch your back slightly, pressing yourself against his exploring fingers. The sensation sends shivers of pleasure through your body. His fingers move slowly, teasingly, as if memorizing every curve and fold. You can feel his breath quicken, matching your own rising excitement. He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers huskily, "You're so wet for me." The low rumble of his voice makes you tremble with desire. His fingers continue their sensual dance, circling and stroking in a maddening rhythm that has you aching for more.

A shudder runs through your body at his touch, and you arch into his hand, craving more. His fingers explore you slowly, teasingly, circling your most sensitive spots without quite giving you the pressure you need. You whimper softly, your hips rocking against his hand. He watches your face intently, drinking in every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips. When his thumb finally brushes over your swollen bud, you cry out, clutching at his shoulders. He smiles, continuing his ministrations as tension coils tighter and tighter within you. Just as it begins to build, he pulls his hand from your panties and out of your sleep pants, causing a whine of protest to fall from your lips.

“Shh…” He croons out gently and allows his lips to travel up your jaw, over your chin and to the corner of your lips. “...I just want to go slow, beautiful.”

His words cause heat to rise to your cheeks and you nod almost shyly, causing a small amused smile to etch its way onto his lips. He caresses your bare side gently before pulling his hands away ro reach to the hem of his black long sleeved shirt. He pulls his shirt up, slowly, almost teasingly, and over his head allowing the article to join your own shirt on the shaggy carpeted floor. Your eyes roam over his exposed torso, drinking in the sight of his toned muscles and smooth skin. The dim light of the room casts shadows that accentuate every curve and plane of his body. You reach out tentatively, fingers ghosting along his collarbone before trailing down to his chest. His breath hitches slightly at your touch, and you feel a thrill of excitement course through you. He captures your wandering hand in his own, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on your palm. The tender gesture makes your heart flutter. He leans in, his forehead resting against yours as his free hand cups your cheek. For a moment, you both stay like that, breathing each other in, savoring the intimacy of the moment. He leans in, reconnecting his lips to yours in a deep, sweet intimate kiss.

He brings his free hand back down to the waistband of your pants, grabbing gently at the fabric as he begins to pull them down. “Lift your hips, pretty girl.” He coos softly, coaxing your hips up, which you do without hesitation, pushing yourself up onto your knees on the recliner so he can pull your pants down. With some clumsy maneuvering he manages to pull your pants and underwear down your legs before discarding them into the growing pile of clothing on the floor. You settle back into your seated position on his lap, letting out a soft gasp at the feel of his hard bulge pressed right against the bare fat of your pussy. He grinds up against you, a small, gruff breathy moan falling from his lips at the feeling of your slick staining the front of his jeans. His hands move to his belt, which he makes quick work of removing and casting aside onto the floor before he fumbles with the button of his jeans. He pushes the now damp, blue denim fabric down his legs, along with his boxers, exposing his achingly hard manhood.

He is long and thick, pale with an angry red leaking tip, long blue veins up his girthy shaft, uncut and perfect. He has a thicket of dark curls at the base, adorning his pretty cock perfectly. His balls are full and heavy, every part of him aching for your slick silken heat, he reaches down, unable to resist as he gives himself a few languid, teasing strokes, both to quell the ache and to give you a show of what is to come.

“Are you ready?”

He asks quietly, although he wants nothing more than to take you immediately, but he won’t push you or force you, he wants to make sure you want him just as badly as he needs you in this moment. You manage a weak nod and lift your hips, pressing forward to allow his swollen tip to slide between the slick folds of your pussy lips, nudging at your waiting heat. He moans softly the minute he makes contact with your womanhood and gives you a nod back before his hands come up to grip your hips, guiding you downwards towards his aching cock. His tip notches against the entrance of your wet tunnel before in a slow grinding thrust he presses up into you. You both let out breathy wanton moans at the sensation, and your hips move down almost on their own, pushing him deeper within your silky heat. He fills you, inch by delicious inch, every ridge of your tight, wet pussy squeezing his aching cock, making it difficult for him to keep his composure and not just bucking up into you with reckless abandon. In a moment you’re fully seated on his bare, muscular thighs, his cock filling you at depths you didn’t even think were possible to reach. You grind down experimentally, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix as you do.

“You feel so good.” He groans into your bare shoulder, his hands sliding down to the thick plushness of your ass, squeezing roughly, as if trying to ground himself and not move too hard too fast. “I almost can’t control myself.”

You want to respond but your words seem to get caught on your tongue as he bucks up into you gently, causing a whiny moan to fall from between your lips, like a beautiful siren song to his ears, beckoning him deeper into your silky slick pussy. You grind your hips down, your pelvis nudging against his, your pussy mound meeting his pelvic bone. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements as you rock against him. The delicious friction sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. You arch your back, pressing your breasts forward as waves of sensation wash over you. His eyes roam hungrily over your form, drinking in every curve and contour. You lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing as you continue to move together. The coil of tension builds low in your belly with each thrust. You break the kiss, panting, and rest your forehead against his. His breath is hot on your skin as he increases his pace, driving deeper. His hand travels down to rub circles with his thumb against your neglected swollen clit, and almost like a trigger on a gun, it sets you off.

Your hips still, your entire body clenching as you cum, your pussy squeezes him in an impossibly tight vice grip, sending him into his own finish. His cock presses deeply into you as he expels his hot wet seed into your waiting channel, filling you to the brim with hot wetness. You rock your hips a few more times, riding out both of your highs before you fall forward collapsing against his chest. Your breathing is hard, the same as his, and your heart is pounding rapidly in your chest. You can feel a thin sheen of sweat coating your bodies as you settle against him, not even making a move to pull him from your spent, and still spasming pussy. You both fall into a semi silence, only broken by the sounds of your heavy pants, and the small kissing noises as he places gentle pecks along your shoulders, trying to bring you down from your intense pleasure fuelled high. At this moment, neither of you speak, but you both know this is just the beginning of something new, a peace between the two of you that cannot be turned on its head, not even by the harsh world you now live in. In this moment, and hopefully for many more moments to come, it's just you and Aaron.

14 notes · View notes

iwritenarrativesandstuff · 7 months ago

Text

Just started Medjed arc of P5R; here are my current thoughts on the characters I know so far:

Joker: Look, I know people say he's a "self-insert" but I really, really see a few very distinct personality traits in him. He's lost in thought a lot. He zones out. He's really goal-driven. He's clever. He's a risk-taker. He's wary of consequences. He takes a little while to trust people, especially adults. He's suspicious and easily annoyed. He's on your side. He wants to help. He's a snarky little shit. His compassion is as much his defiance as his bitter disdain. He's hesitant. He's confident. He's bluffing. His respect is earned. His assistance isn't. He's free. He's chained. He's larger than life. He's a dumbass dork of a teenager. Incredibly fun character to play as, 10/10. I love that you can actually see him becoming more confident as time goes on. His dialogue options also become sillier/snarkier/more teasing as he becomes closer with people. It's just fun. I have a lot more thoughts on him but I'm going to stop here. I'd love to do a bit of an analysis on him once I finish the game - I'd like to go back through his main story dialogue options and his idle and specific scene animations. Plus, they seriously popped off with his character design. There's so much I could say about that alone.

Ryuji: Ryuji, my beloved. I wish you were less horny in uncomfortable ways in some scenes - I think, as well as Atlus not knowing what teenage girls are like, they also have not... spoken to people raised by single mothers, or mothers who got out of an abusive relationship... but anyways, asides from that, I love Ryuji. I think his desire for popularity makes a lot of sense - he's only ever stood out in a bad way. He just wants to be liked, you know? And he doesn't think he's enough the way he is. He's trying his best. I need him to shut up so bad but also I hope he never shuts up, you know. He's genuinely so funny, and he's the most ride or die of anyone. Ryuji gets angry on everyone's behalf when they can't muster up their own anger yet. Everyone say thank you, Ryuji.

Morgana: I do not get the hate for this not-cat; he's so funny to me. He's becoming a little more aligned to the thieves' morality, which is probably for the best since at the beginning he was definitely down with accidental murder and totally open about his pragmatism. He actually encourages this in Joker. It's just funny. I love my emotional support not-cat bestie who sits in my desk at school then tells me to go strike shady deals with random people in back alleys. You can definitely see a change in Morgana though; he's becoming more excited about helping people for the sake of it (like Joker, he too has gained purpose), but he's also becoming more insecure.

Ann: She remains my favourite of the Thieves. If Ryuji is the original drive and Morgana the original method, then she is the original conviction. The strength to stand with victims. The desire to force those who hurt others to understand the feelings of said victims. She has the rawest fucking lines at the end of the Kamoshida arc. She loves Shiho so much, and I really feel like her and Joker are on the same page when it comes to things deeper than their surface level interests. Get you a friend like Ann fr. It's a shame that later scenes have her mostly just getting mad at the guys when they uhhh... act like horny guys towards her. Feels bad man, especially because I love the aspect of her character that wants to be more comfortable with her sexuality and have that be on her terms. <- That's really cool, actually! Why couldn't we do more with that...? As a note though, I seriously love her admiration towards female cartoon villains and that one mean girl model. I think that's so funny and also such a mood. I do not believe for one second that Ann is straight. I hope she becomes the sexy and confidant morally-ambiguous thief of her dreams, and also that she gets a girlfriend. It's what she deserves.

Yusuke: He's so dramatic. Do you expect me not to love him? I really loved his conflict during Madarame's arc - those revelations were absolutely brutal, and Yusuke really handled things well, all things considered. Again, like Ann, there were some raw lines in there. But then, of course, the slump on the other end, when the adrenaline wears off. That Yusuke's painting only showed the dark side of desire tells me that he is still grappling with the effects of all these reveals. He has a lot to process.

Makoto: I just think she's so cute. Her design is adorable. She's such a sweetheart. On the flip side though, while I don't find her as intimidating as the game seems to, I definitely would not want her mad at me. While, as I mentioned before, I found the lead up to her joining the thieves to be a little janky, the actual moment was great. I love that she has a support system now. She really needed that. I hope there are more scenes with her in group settings tbh. While I'm enjoying her one-on-one dynamics with Ryuji and Ann, I do feel like she doesn't really... gel with the group as well as, say, Yusuke did. I think they need to drag her out to more activities lol.

Sojiro: I still don't know yet? He seems like the tough love sort. I do enjoy getting to learn random coffee trivia from him, and it seems like he cares in a kind of gruff way. He also gets a lot of suspicious people coming by. Guess I'll find out more later.

Maruki: Again, I don't know much still. He's endearing and dorky. That salt bae thing still lives rent-free in my head. I feel his frustration with not being able to help more. I get it man. I will say though, the fact that we get to see scenes with the thieves and Maruki, with no Joker present, is... odd.

Kasumi: I... I don't know how to feel. She's too nice. She's too polite. All of her scenes are so weirdly convenient. I like her just fine, but there's something seriously off. I almost feel like she's an outlier on purpose, like she doesn't blend into the world. Unlike Maruki, who is new to Royal but blends into the story quite nicely, Kasumi really stands out, to the point it kind of feels like that was the intention. She is adorable, though, I won't deny that, and I do want her to succeed and all, I just... hm. I don't know how to feel about her.

Akechi: I could fix him (smack him upside the head). <- okay but seriously, he is so obviously suspicious, he so obviously knows about Joker, he's such a smarmy little shit. I would despise him irl, but he's absolutely the funniest character in the game right now. Everything he says has me either cackling or my jaw dropping at the fucking audacity. He's also really interesting to me. Love a character whose every line means three things rolled into one. He feels dangerous and weirdly endearing at the same time. What the hell is his problem (affectionate + derogatory).

Yoshida: YOSHIDA MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED. I love him so far. He's my favourite confidant right now. He just makes me so happy man I love him so much. Yoshida takes the hard road and he's got the conviction, but you need support from people to really turn your life around. Hey, that's kind of what the game is about, yeah?

Takemi: Oh I love her confidant so far. I don't know that she's one of my favourites, character-wise, but I was especially taken with her dedication to that medicine, and Joker's response to her saying that she doesn't suit everyone coming to her for medical help by countering her with an "it suits you". Very sweet. I'm getting close to finishing her confidant; I just need to level up charm.

Mishima: I'm almost done his confidant too! I actually enjoy Mishima's character. I feel like his downward spiral made a lot of sense, and I like that he's both helpful and made me feel a bit uncomfortable. I especially like that he's pulling himself out of that fame mentality by himself, without his heart being changed. We just gave his shadow something to think on.

Kawakami: Idk how I feel about this, but the perks are good. I'm curious about her though.

Sae: She seems dedicated to her job. Forming a confidant with her during the interrogation was something I did not expect and had me going "ohohoho". But man, some of the stuff she says to Makoto is way out of line... I'm glad she's at least aware as soon as it leaves her mouth, and I cannot imagine the constant stress and scrutiny she's under but... still. Girl. :/

Iwai: I'm going to properly start his confidant soon. He's cool. I feel like he's not nearly as scary as he makes himself out to be.

Ohya: Don't know much about her so far, but she's a disaster, and I will always enjoy a good disaster woman.

Lala: SHE'S PERFECT. I wish there was a mechanic where you could get advice from Lala-chan. She's looking out for everybody. She's good. :)

Chihaya: She told me I'm gonna die... :(

#storyrambles #story plays persona 5 #p5r #random thoughts

25 notes · View notes