#it isn’t perfectly consistent yet

[goldensunset]

i gotta say. i didn’t like it but in hindsight pokémon black and white 2 having a small handful of trainers that want to re-battle you every time you re-enter an area is actually so nice. trainer battles make you lots of money, they provide much more exp than wild encounters, and they’re infinitely more consistent than wild encounters anyway. it makes grinding verrrrrry easy. thank you pokémon breeder magnolia on route 11 i have killed your emolga and altaria more times than i can count and my little fraxure is almost ready to commit a massive chain of first degree homicides in the opelucid city gym

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 04 - Nipple Sucking]

Pairing: Brat to Good Boy!Jungkook x Mommy Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: nipple sucking, breast worship, thigh grinding, clothed sex, vaginal fingering, cumming in his pants, subby boy tears, drool, he accidentally bruises her nipple from being too eager, he is a lil brat at the beginning and bites her nipples jfsdjf, masochist!Jungkook, tongue spanking, hair pulling, subspace, cuddling & praises for aftercare

Wordcount: 3.8k

a/n: this is inspired by anonie’s idea this was actually not planned to be included in kinktober at first but i suddenly felt the unbearable urge to write this and so i did <3 have fun besties i’m a whore for him

You and Jungkook have been arguing. It wasn’t a terrible fight, nor a very burdening one, but it was still a fight. You say that Jungkook was in your magic kitchen and messed up the papers on your desk, while he insists that it wasn’t him. You know for a fact however that it was him and that he is being stubborn. You know because you noticed the ink stain on his shirt from accidentally dunking it into your inkpot. 

“I don’t understand why you want to keep up this stubborn farce.” 

“It’s not a farce, it’s fact. I didn’t mess up your papers.”

“So you were in my magic kitchen?” 

“Ye- No? No, that’s not what I meant.” 

“Mhm sure and I’m the queen of the moon.” 

Jungkook huffs out air, pouting. 

“Even if I was, theoretically, it doesn’t mean I was the one who messed up your papers. Maybe they were already messed up when I got there.” 

“We’ve been over this, Kookie. How the hell did the ink stain get on your shirt then?” 

“It’s from the love letters I was writing to you.”

“Wow, I can’t believe you. Flirting isn’t gonna work right now”, you say, but chuckle.

Jungkook grins boyishly, closing the distance between you and him.

“What’s a few papers anyway, right?” he says, fluttering his lashes at you.

“No, no stay away, you stubborn walnut.”

“I’m not stubborn.”

“Yes, you are. You’re even more stubborn than I am.”

Jungkook gasps, clutching his imaginary pearls.

“You take that back.”

“I’m taking it back once you admit that you were in my kitchen and messed up my papers.”

Jungkook sits down on the sofa and crosses his arms in front of his chest. He pouts, looking to the side like a sulking baby.

The thing is. You weren’t angry, nor really frustrated. In some weird way, you were amused. The fight is silly and so obviously not taken seriously by either party. In a peculiar sense, it almost feels like flirting. You and Jungkook find yourselves in a weird yet exciting dance of “who breaks first?” and you know exactly how to break him. 

You begin opening the front lacing on your dress. Jungkook notices from the corner of his eyes, shifting on the sofa as inconspicuously as possible. 

You sometimes like to wear pretty dresses from earlier time periods when at the estate. Your dress today consists of an outer layer and a flowy under dress. You let the outer dress fall to the floor, stepping out of it. 

Jungkook shifts again, clearing his throat. He turns his head further to the side, acting as if he can’t see you. 

Your under dress is made of a very thin cotton fabric, making it so perfectly translucent at the parts of your body which were more sinful than the rest. Yes, we are talking about your nipples and pubes here. Jungkook has a very hard time not looking at you. The collar of your under dress is closed with a ribbon. You open it as you strut to Jungkook.

You straddle his lap. His meaty thighs tense, jaw tightening. 

One skilled move and the dress slips down your shoulders, revealing your chest to him. 

Jungkook tries to turn his head even more but you stop him, nudging him to face you with two fingers gripping his chin. 

His eyes ghost over your breasts but flit up to stare at your face obsessively. Even now he is stubborn enough not to admit that you have him charmed.

“Do I really have to force you to confess, sweet one?” you say, caressing him under his chin. Your eyes race between his.

“I didn’t mess up-”

“Hush now”, you silence him, stuffing your nipple into his mouth. 

Jungkook mewls in surprise, eyes widened and hands stretching from his body. One second, two. He whimpers and sucks, eyes falling closed and hands grasping your waist. His thighs tremble as his body makes sense of the almost drug like effect your nipples have on him. 

“There we go”, you get out, playing with his hair, “now you can’t lie anymore. You’re so much sweeter like this.” 

Jungkook breaks away, craning his neck.

“I’m not ly-”

“Pssst.”

You force his head down and shove your other nipple into his mouth. Jungkook keens, sucking on it instantly. He drags his hands up your bared back, tickling goosebumps to the surface. 

He feels good. Really good. His touch is so gentle while his mouth is so eager. He is still trying to hold back, to pretend as if he wasn’t utterly into this, but his mouth begins to betray him. He sucks but he also licks. Very sloppily and messily. And whenever he licks, he lets out a throaty purr, thighs tensing under your weight. 

Jungkook changes sides, sliding his hands to your breasts to hold them. His tongue darts out, circling your nipple quickly while his fingers knead the flesh. 

“That’s good. Your mouth is put to so much better use like this. It’s too pretty to be used for lying.” 

“Shut up”, Jungkook murmurs and takes your nipple between his teeth to tug. 

“Ah, hey”, you gasp, arching your back. 

He grins against you. This little shit has the audacity to grin after biting your nipple. 

You can’t let him get away with it. You twist a bundle of his hair and tug. Jungkook’s head tilts back, revealing his boyish grin and cloudy eyes. His lips are glossy from spit. 

“Did you just bite my nipple, you little brat?”

“And if I did?” 

“Then I might need to punish you.”

His grin turns into a smirk, his eyes glimmer. He slides his fingers to your nipples and pinches them both.

“Ah”, you flinch in surprise.

He chuckles, pinching them again. 

“Hey, brat”, you gasp, slapping his hands away. 

He laughs, looking so pleased with himself.

“That’s it. Tongue out.”

Jungkook obeys, sticking it out as far as possible. He can’t wait to have your nipples on it. Except that you don’t give him what he craves, you give his tongue a spank. 

“Ahng”, he lets out, pulling it back instinctively. So you grab him by his chin and pull him closer, spanking his tongue as you do. 

His wet muscle trembles and tenses. He mewls and sticks it out some more, accepting the next spank with a tense of his entire body. It was a tense of pleasure, the kind which builds up fire in one’s stomach. 

One last spank and then you soothe it by dragging your tongue over it. Jungkook moans, fingers cradling the back of your head and lips closing around your tongue to kiss you. You kiss him back for one second, two seconds. No longer than that. It makes him desperate. Good. You like him desperate. 

“Mhm”, you hum and pull him down into your chest by holding his cheeks between your thumb and fingers. 

Jungkook returns to heaven in a mewl and his mouth wide open to take you in. He holds your breasts, wasting no time this round. He sucks as much of your softness into his mouth as he can fit, then moves his head back so you would slip out of him again. He sucks the entire time, resulting in pressure around your nipple so wonderful you sigh his name. 

Jungkook purrs, repeating what he did on your other side. His name falls from your lips a second time, your hips grind back and forth on his thigh. 

You had a fight once, didn’t you? Jungkook can barely remember. Neither can you. The charged tension which is still present keeps reminding you however. You want each other like crazy yet are too proud to give in already. That’s good though, means that Jungkook can suck on your breasts until you are sensitive.

“So good. So much better than when you’re bratty.” 

Jungkook loves being punished though. He has a thing for it. He bites your other nipple and tugs. 

You squeal and writhe, instantly pulling him away by his hair. 

Jungkook looks up at you, grinning goofily.

“You did that to yourself, Mommy.” 

“Do I have to punish you again?”

Jungkook sticks out his tongue and nods his head. Look at him waiting so eagerly. He wants to be punished and you want to punish him, but where is the fun in a punishment that is wanted?

No, you are going to ruin him another way. You lift your butt from his thigh to make up for the difference in height between his lips and your chest. Once in position, you slap your tits on his tongue, watching in delight how his eyes roll back and his mouth goes slack. You lift yourself and slap his tongue again then change sides to repeat it with punishing strength. 

Jungkook moans, tongue shaking under your nipple. He curls the tip each time you are in contact with him, trying to get a feel of you that way. It is so good because he is shaking so much when does.

You lift yourself and slam down, pressing yourself closer afterwards to grind your nipple over his tongue. 

He gurgles out a sound of need, fingers dimpling your hips as he grips you desperately. 

You’ve got him. You wrap your arm around his head and push, smothering him with your breasts. Jungkook moans, sinking his face into them gladly and when you keep him there? He swears he actually spills into his pants. He moves his head from side to side as his eager mouth begins trying to be everywhere at the same time. His tongue is just as restless, wetting your entire chest as he swirls it over you aimlessly. He just loves to be like this. It is so obvious that he is currently worshiping your tits with no goal in mind. All that he lives and breathes for, are your breasts. And that he can use his mouth on them. 

“So good, such a good wet mouth you have. So good” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair. You rock back and forth, coming to realise that there is something missing. You instantly make up for it by dropping down on his thigh again, pulling his head with you to make sure he wouldn’t leave your chest. 

Jungkook lets you move him gladly, mewling into you as he mouths at your tender flesh eagerly. He is so dizzy. You smell so good and feel even better.

You rock your hips, moaning in bliss now that there is finally something that brings you pleasure. Now granted, Jungkook’s mouth already feels like heaven, but you want even more. His warm, wet mouth and  his strong thigh in contrast. It is so good. 

He is wearing a pair of white cotton pants today, they are oversized and comfortable and they feel so good against your warmth. Just a little rough, but still soft enough, also perfectly thin to let his body heat through. How goddamn addicting.

“Fuck this is so good now that you’re quiet. So good”, you moan, fingers feeling up his scalp and neck while Jungkook mewls into you, licking you eagerly. 

He doesn’t even want to be really bratty anymore. Okay, maybe he tries it a little by grazing his teeth against your nipple but one corrective tug on his hair and he already gives up on it, burying his face in your softness with a defeated keen. His tongue soothes what he wanted to bite, his drool runs down your breasts but instantly gets slurped up by him.

“So good, fuck…” you moan breathily, hips dancing on him eagerly. 

You didn’t truly think about the concept of grinding for pleasure before you met your lovers. How could something like that be fun? You were wrong. You were very wrong. You could honestly jump them all day every day. It is so addicting to find pleasure this way, to use their bodies until you find your highest peak.

Today is such a day. You can’t get enough of the friction and the pressure and how little movements are enough to build pleasurable tension in your stomach. 

Jungkook is gone as well, high on a different kind of drug. He loves quarrelling with you when it is so obvious that it wasn’t serious. He loves it because he can be bratty and tease you and therefore get punished. He also loves the tension and how you look at him when you pretend to be annoyed. He loves it, but he can’t win against your breasts. He feels submissive and stupid and good. So good. As if he never ever wants to be bad again. 

He whimpers, glossy lips sucking on your right nipple helplessly while his fingers grasp your hips. He sucks with such eagerness that hot electricity shoot through you. 

“Is that nice?” 

He nods his head, changing sides because he doesn't want to neglect even an inch from your perfect chest. 

“Nice enough to confess your sins?”

Jungkook makes a sound. 

You twist his hair and pull, denying him of the only heaven he craves right now. 

“No please”, he gets out, looking up at you teary eyed and pouty lips parted. His cheeks are flushed, his dark hair messy. “Please.” 

“How much do you want it?”

“So much, please.”

“Then confess.”

He mewls, shaking his head. You stop it with a thug of his hair. You lift your hips, guiding your nipples to his lips. He moans and opens his mouth, drooling in anticipation. He is panting quicker the closer you come. 

Stop. 

Jungkook tries to make up for the last inch of distance but you hold him in place by his hair.

“No please”, he squeaks out, spilling tears. He looks agonised and tortured, fighting your grip helplessly. 

You cradle your right breast in your hand and move it around, showing him what he can’t do right now. 

He pulls an expression of pain, letting out  a sound which borders a sob.

“Confess and I’ll make all of this go away.  The pain, the withdrawal, you can be freed of it.”

“Mommy please.”

“I know sweet one, I know”, you coo, caressing his cheek, “Mommy can help you, but you have to be honest with me.”

Jungkook sobs softly, squeezing his eyes shut. You broke him. 

“I lied. I ruined your papers. I, I tried to look for a pen and, and accidentally knocked over the inkpot with my sleeve. I’m sorry.”

“See? Doesn’t the truth feel so much better?” 

“Please”, he cups your tender breasts, eyes widening in pleading, “please I did what you asked of me.” 

“You did. Go ahead then”, you allow him, letting go of his hair.

Jungkook takes the freedom instantly, burying his face back in your breasts with a loud moan. He squeezes them together in his hands, sucking and nibbling on you hungrily. 

“Fuck, that’s so good”, you sigh, rolling your hips against his thigh. You bury your hands in his hair and drop your head against his own head, closing your eyes. “You feel so good, sweetie. Keep going.” 

Jungkook agrees with a mewl, slipping his hands under your dress so he could hold your bared hips. No more fabric, he needs the sensation of your warm, soft skin. No panties. Sometimes in long dresses you go pantieless. Jungkook traces the naked paths where normally a piece of cotton would sit with tingling fingers. So soft. All of you. 

“Why are you so soft, Mommy?” he mewls into you, lips trembling as they suck on your left nipple.

“You’re so sweet”, you sigh, smiling blissfully. You scratch his scalp slowly, melting in his touch. “Ah fuck”, you breathe, hips desperately trying to search for more friction. You are dripping on him, soaking his pants. It feels good, but starts to feel like not enough. You feel so empty, so goddamn empty. 

He notices that you are using his thigh to pleasure yourself. His pants leg became very wet all of a sudden and your sweet scent tickles his nose. He wants to come up for air and ask if you feel good, but he can’t. He doesn’t want to miss even one second of your chest. But he has to. You are restless as if you are searching for more. 

“Is it enough?” he asks, mouth barely gone from your chest.

“I don’t know, I ahm.”

“Lift your hips, Mommy.” 

You follow his wish. Jungkook wiggles his arm under you so he can rest his hand on his thigh. He turns his palm up and sticks two of his fingers up. 

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck, baby, holy fuck”, you babble, claiming what he offers instantly. You sink down on his fingers, pulling him into your chest at the same time. 

You yelp in pleasure, Jungkook matches your enthusiasm, moaning into your chest  as he takes your nipple back inside. Your walls are throbbing and trembling around his digits, taking him in eagerly.

“Holy fuck, Jungkook”, you croak, arching your back and twisting his hair. 

This is finally scratching that itch. You are so stuffed, so goddamn full of him and it’s heaven. You chase the explosions of pleasure with eager rocks of your hips, filling the silence with moans and gasps. Like this, your clit is grinding on his lower arm while your spots inside are grinding on his fingers. They are so long, so perfectly girthy and groomed.

“Jungkook baby. Baby, this is so good, holy fuck”, you moan, dropping your face into his soft hair. 

“Mommy”, the word is muffled and barely audible, his mouth is sloppy and restless on your chest. Even more than before. It is as if he was experiencing more pleasure as well, as if this is scratching his itch as well. 

Truth is, it feels like that for him. You are so wet and so warm around his digits and so goddamn fucking soft. Jungkook goes insane because of it, lost enough in you that his own mind is betraying him and he swears that he can feel you on his cock. It’s impossible because he is crammed into his pants, but it feels like it. Wet, soft, warm. 

“Mommy, soft. Mommy”, he whimpers, curling his fingers desperately.

“Urgh fuck”, you get out and drop into him, forcing his back to fall against the sofa cushions and for your nipple to leave his lips. “Sorry.”

“Is okay”, he mumbles, free hand rubbing your back and eager mouth sucking on your breasts in the new position. 

“Curl them again.” 

Jungkook obeys, moaning with you when this makes you shake and keen. Your hips move on him sloppily, your pussy keeps tightening around him. 

“Fuck baby”, you rasp, grabbing the pillow edge and twisting it. 

Jungkook spills tears, thighs shaking under you and cock throbbing in his pants. Your heart is racing like crazy. He can hear it, feel it too. He tries to get to it with eager sucks and wiggles of his head. It not only forces his lips and tongue to grind against your nipple but his nose as well. You are so sensitive at this point, you genuinely can’t feel any difference between stimulation on your clit and your nipples. 

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, urgh fuck”, you chant, convulsing and shaking on him. You are close. Dangerously close. 

Jungkook knows that you are feeling so ruined by it that he can barely move his mouth. He is ruined, running on nothing but you and everything that happens to your body when you are experiencing pleasure. Your raised pulse, your choppy breathing, your higher body heat and the array of sweet scents. He also swears that your skin becomes even softer than usually, contradicting the spots where the electricity is bundled. Your nipples hard and swollen, your clit enlarged and throbbing, your folds heated and engorged. So soft yet so plump in pleasure. Jungkook swears this is heaven and he promises silently to never ever be bratty again (he will be bratty again).

He curls his fingers and knows that this was it.

“Jungkook, baby”, you get out, tensing up as your pussy begins throbbing and clenching. Your voice pitches, coming out as squeaks and mewls. Your fingers twist his hair and hold him oh so close. This is so intense that you can’t see as it happens. Every single spot of concentrated pleasure was set off, forcing your entire body to be engulfed in flames. 

Jungkook’s eyes roll back even closed. He sobs, truly sobs, losing against the warmth. He orgasms in his pants. No touch, no grind, no lick just your breasts and your pussy on his fingers was enough. He accidentally bruises your nipple from sucking too aggressively, free hand leaving a bruise on your waist as well. You don’t mind, riding the waves with him until you both come down together.

“Oh god, baby”, you get out, slipping off his fingers. You nudge them down into a relaxed position, sitting on his hand. You grind as slowly as possible, wanting to enjoy the warmth and pressure just a little longer. 

Jungkook calms down in twitches of his body and little whimpers into your chest as he mouths at your breasts tiredly. He is so ruined, head dizzy and vision blurry, and your chest comforts him beyond comparison. 

“How…” You clear your raspy throat. “...how are you?” 

“Good”, he squeaks and shakes, sobbing softly as he hugs you closer, “feeling submissive.” 

“Mhm”, you scratch his scalp soothingly, holding him safely, “good boy. You were such a good boy. Let it happen, you’re safe with me.” 

“Mommy.”

“My good boy. You made me feel so good.”

He agrees with a nod of his head, hips twitching up. It calls your attention. You need to check something.

“Can Mommy touch you for a moment?” 

He nods his head.

You cup his clothed and softened cock, squeezing it a little. Jungkook whimpers, hiding deeper in your chest to handle the overstimulation. 

“Just as I had thought. You came in your pants. It’s soaking the fabric.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay, sweetie. Did you enjoy yourself?” 

“So much.”

“Then that’s all that counts.” You give his soft dick one last caress then use the hand to ruffle his hair. “My good boy.”

Jungkook tugs his hand free and wraps both arms around you in a tight hug. He whimpers, dimpling your skin as he practically tries to melt you with him.

“I’m sorry for ruining your papers. I want to fix it, please.” 

“Mhm, we’ll find a solution together. But for now, hush, okay?”

“Okay, oh god. Can we hold each other? Please, Mommy.” 

“Of course, my baby.” You melt into him, resting your cheek on the crown of his head. “Let’s relax like this.” 

“I love you so much ” 

“I love you too, my baby. So much.“

[shoeistars]

— NO PHOTOS ! pt. 2

༺ feat. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

༺ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

༺ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

༺ pt. 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

— REO ! car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

— BAROU ! wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

— RIN ! under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

— SAE ! checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

— SHIDOU ! pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[usedpidemo]

Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)

Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.

And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.

Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks. 

She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake. 

“Here you go!”

Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.

You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart. 

The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife. 

She never lets up. 

She wants to know you.

“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes. 

Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”

“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”

More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.

Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf. 

Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”

From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council. 

Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.

“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.

—————

The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.

Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.

The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you. 

Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.

Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession. 

You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.

But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour. 

A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.

“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.

You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”

“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”

“I’m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success. 

Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.

“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”

“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”

Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”

In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”

“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”

Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand. 

Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”

“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”

Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”

“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”

—————

Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.

And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.

While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.  

For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.

So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.

Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—

And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.

She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.

At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”

“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”

Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”

Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”

“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”

You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.

“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”

When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.

“I-I—” 

You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face. 

Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.

Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.

You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.

Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.” 

You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.

Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to. 

She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”

Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious. 

Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable. 

A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.

She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.

“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”

Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.” 

If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.

“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”

“Hanni—”

She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”

And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.

Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.

There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.

“Fuck—”

“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.” 

She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”

And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further. 

Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all. 

You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.

Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally. 

“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one. 

“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.

Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”

“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.

“Only if they allowed it.”

“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”

“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”

Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.

Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.

She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric. 

And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought. 

“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”

As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.

You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.

Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:

She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again. 

From there, everything takes care of itself.

Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.

“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”

You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.

It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine. 

“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.

Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.

And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.

It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—

Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.

Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.

Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”

Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.” 

You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.

“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.

“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”

“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”

—————

A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3

[stayinlimbo]

cat walk

pairing: lee minho x reader ft. soondoongdori requested?: yes; 100 followers celebration genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, i am only using my own cat experience, lowercase intended, slightly unedited word count: 935 note: thank you @infinity-tiny for the request. i definitely took some creative liberties with it but i hope you still like it ♡

if anyone had asked minho what he thought he’d arrive home to on a seemingly normal friday evening, he probably would’ve described his typical welcoming committee consisting of you shouting out a “hey min!” from somewhere in the living room or kitchen, and, if he was lucky, his cats poking out from their usual hiding spots to greet him. 

it most certainly wouldn’t have been this, yet here we are. 

minho’s hand hasn’t even released the front door handle before soonie’s pleading eyes bore holes into his soul. the cat’s large body is draped comfortably over your shoulder, but minho can tell that soonie would rather be literally anywhere else than where he currently is.  

the sound of rustling diverts minho’s attention towards the ground next to your feet. doongie’s sprawled out form rubs against a pair of shoes strewn to the side of the entryway as he noisily meows at the sight of his owner’s (father’s) figure barely stepping past the threshold. 

minho flicks his eyes back up as soft clicking noises reverberate around the narrow hallway, watching the final child hesitantly making his way towards your free, outstretched hand holding his favorite treat. 

“what are you doing?”

dori’s cautious steps halt at minho’s voice, making you quietly groan out in frustration.

“hey min, happy to see you, now shhh for a minute please,” you hastily whisper, gaze focused on the brown tabby. the soft clicking resumes and dori finally comes close enough for you to scoop him up in your arms alongside his older brother. 

you whirl around to face your boyfriend, who at long last has properly entered the house and closed the door. a radiant grin illuminates your face at the sight of him. if minho’s being honest, it tugs at his heartstrings a bit. you missed him and you’re so happy to see–

“hold soonie and dori for me, will you? i need to grab this bag real quick,” you rush out, not giving him much of a choice as you’re already transferring the two cats into his arms. 

okay, so maybe not. 

minho watches you jog over to a bag he didn’t see at the end of the hall, laughing at the tiny slip in your footing when you turn around to come back towards him. you plop down next to doongie, giving him a quick pet before fishing in the bag and pulling out a leash and a cat-sized reflective vest.

hold up. 

“you didn’t,” minho blanches, watching you put doongie’s head and paws through the green vest’s openings, hooking the leash to the rings that are now attached to the cat’s back.

“i did. soonie,” you reply, reaching up for your next (unwilling) participant. minho crouches down next to you, reluctantly complying with your demands. 

“you’re going out now?” he questions. poor soonie is not as cooperative as his younger brother, and it takes everything within minho to not save him out of pity for what is to come. 

“yes, they’re more frisky in the evening—dori—so i thought ‘why not?’”

“but it’s dark outside,” minho tries to reason, passing you the final feline. it’s of no use, you are too far gone. 

“that’s what the reflective vests are for. duh,” you counter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile as you let dori leap out of your hold. “there, don’t they look ready for the outdoors?”

the cats are all sprawled in different positions on the floor. soonie still looks like he’d rather be anywhere else, doongie is preoccupied with swatting the bag now, and if dori could make himself any smaller, he would turn into a perfectly shaped ball. 

no, ready isn’t the word minho would use. 

you must see the hesitance still lingering behind his eyes because  this time you sift through the bag to retrieve a human-sized reflective vest and pull it over your sweatshirt. 

“if it makes you feel any better, i’ll be wearing this the entire time with them to be extra safe. please, please, please let me try this,” you beg, looking at him with your best imploring eyes. 

minho has to give it to you, you’ve gotten better at this. you must’ve been practicing after the last time he told you “no” to something he can’t even remember at this point. 

he lets out a sigh at your unwavering gaze, finally giving in to your pleas. “...did you at least get me one?”

“of course i did, who do you think i am?” you scoff lightly, digging through the bag and extending your hand towards him with his very own green reflective vest. 

as minho slips on what, in his opinion, is the ugliest vest he’s ever seen in his life, he can’t help the smile blooming on his face growing wider. although this may be one of the weirdest methods (and he means it) you’ve used to get the family all together, he can see the commitment and energy you put into making sure everyone would be safe. 

you don’t need to know right now that he tried this years before he met you and that the cats will give up entirely about ten steps away from the walkway. he’ll let you discover that on your own. 

and as you call “hurry up, let’s go!” to him halfway out the door with soonie and dori in your arms, doongie trailing slowly by your feet trying to bite the loose leash dangling in front of his face, minho knows he wouldn’t trade this for the world. not when he has the ones he loves most all in one place.

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liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz

[consciouscarrot]

day 14 - first kisses [s.black]

sirius black x fem!reader

content warnings; fluff, r’s first kiss but not sirius’, kiss gets the teensiest bit heated at the end

notes; all likes, comments and reblogs are much appreciated <3 :)

kinktober/flufftober masterlist

—————

the two of you were walking back after your first date, having confessed your mutual love for each other just a few days ago, hearts pounding in fear of rejection, and then in awe that you felt the same way. the date had consisted of spending the afternoon trailing around the shops in hogsmeade, before he’d bought you both a couple of butter beers at the three broomsticks, sitting together on one side of a booth with your thighs pressed tightly together.

now, you were walking back to the castle, wanting to make it back in time for dinner. the glittering snow crunched under your boots, breathing in the crisp air as a group of your classmates passed by. you and sirius were taking your time getting back, walking leisurely to try and make the date last a tiny bit longer, desperate for it to never end.

he’d intertwined your fingers early on in the date, craving the casual intimacy and wanting to break the ice a little. he’d barely let go of them all day, only reluctantly letting go when the aisles in a shop had been too narrow, and even then he’d complained dramatically about his hands freezing off without your warmth.

your gloved hands were now swinging between you, fingers clasped together, him occasionally using them to pull your body closer to his.

sneaking a quick look at him, you watched him as you walked, half listening to him talk about how he’d accidentally lobbed a book at a first year’s head the other day, when it had been intended for james’ “fat skull”.

his black curls were bound in a loose bun, thick strands falling from its tie, framing his sharp features, his pale skin smooth, nose slightly pink with cold. you thought to yourself that he somehow got prettier and prettier everyday, and you were still in slight disbelief that he liked you so much.

eventually getting back to the castle, you stepped through the fat lady’s portrait, the heat from the common room fireplace hitting you all at once, turning your once shivering form into a sweltering mess with all the thick clothing.

you scrambled to take off you coat, sirius copying your actions, leaving you in just your t-shirt and jeans. he took your coat from you, ignoring your protesting, slinging both of yours over his arm before reaching for your hand again.

you clung to him as you walked up the steps to the dorms, the hand not in his clutching at his bicep, nails softly digging into his skin.

you stopped outside your dorm, turning on your heels to face him. you were unsure on what happened now, hoping that he’d chose to kiss you, but not positive that he’d want that just yet.

he was closer than you’d expected him to be, cheeks heating as you wracked your brains for what to say, hoping that the little “hi,” you settle for isn’t too weird.

you’re instantly comforted by his warm chuckle, followed by his own, “hi, trouble. c’mere.”

you were tugged into him, lean arms surrounding you in a long hug, eyes fluttering shut in tranquility.

missing your face, he let go to admire you, the lavender eyeshadow you’d picked out enhancing your eye colour perfectly.

you paused, noting him watching you, panicking that you’d done something wrong, and he’d finally began to found you annoying.

“what?” you asked nervously, chewing the inside of your cheek.

he went to tell you ‘nothing’, his brain hardwired to refuse any kind of vulnerability, but saw the insecurity written on your face, evidently thinking some sort of awful, self-conscious thing about yourself, and instead decided to push himself, knowing you needed it.

“you’re just so pretty,”

relief flooded you, happy that he was still more than tolerating you, but cheeks heating as you quietly whined his name, staring at the ground to hide from his stare.

he ducked his head down, following your gaze and rubbed your arms, feeling your silken skin, fingertips dipping under the short sleeves of your t-shirt.

your hands rested against his chest, fingers subconsciously fisting the material there in order to keep him close.

“siri,” you whispered his name again, leaning in to him a little more.

his hands grasped your hot cheeks, gently tilting your head up to look at him, his face almost touching yours.

“i really wanna kiss you, puppy,”

“i don’t know how to,”

“it’s okay, i’ll show you,”

“yeah?”

“yeah,”

he finally closed to gap between you, rosy lips pressing against yours, soft pecks turning into long kisses, your mouth clumsily trying to follow his movements.

he smiled into you at your eagerness, whispers of gentle encouragement for you to slow down and enjoy it, before swiping his tongue over your bottom lip, flicking it against yours when you gasped at the new sensation.

you tried your best to match his rhythm, but eventually relaxed into it and let it happen, the feeling of his hands on you calming you immensely.

it was all so innocent, and although your movements were a little clumsy, it was his favourite kiss by far. he could spend forever like this, and wished that he’d done it sooner, even if he knows that you needed the proper build up.

pulling back for air, you giggled as he trailed little kisses all over your face, lips making their way over your cheeks, up to your forehead and hairline, down to your chin and jaw.

setlling, he tilted his head to the side, nose pressing into your flushed cheek with one last kiss, chest still pressed to yours.

you brought your hands further up his body, toying with the loose strands of his hair, velvety wisps sliding through your fingers. you focused all of your energy on maintaining eye contact, trying and failing to not fluster under the intensity.

his focus flitted over your glossy lips, his spit pooling slightly in the corners of your mouth. you made a keening noise when he wiped it away, still a little dazed from the kiss.

“y’okay, baby?” he asked, fingers tracing over the slope of your nose, gliding down as you shivered and nodded. he thought his heart might explode with the way your wide eyes looked up at him, so saccharine and full of love.

“‘nother one, pretty please,”

“oh no! i’ve corrupted you, you’ve turned into a scoundrel!”

you shriek when he rubs his nose into your neck, giggling as his dark hair tickled the exposed skin, licking there just to tease you further.

he was ecstatic that you’d had the confidence to ask though, so he quickly indulged you, kissing you with a little more tongue than before. your breaths quickened, chest heaving with the effort as his hands began to slide down over your body, settling at your waist to pull you right into him.

sirius walked you backwards, seemingly wanting to press you into the door, but you gasped as you began to fall, door apparently not shut properly.

he caught you, wrapping his arms around you and making sure you were alright, brow furrowing with worry.

but, the sound of your roommates giggling interrupted him, making you flush again and bury your face in sirius’ chest, whining pitifully, and only made worse by his chest vibrating under you as he tried to hold back his own laughter.

[0cta9on]

And We Danced

Length: 1.1k words

Genre: Angst

Nmixx Lily x Male Reader

(Author's Note: Wrote this for a prompt thingy hosted by @mintwithchoco! Inspired by this really pretty song, do give it a listen if you have the chance :])

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

“...and then he just brushes past me and immediately gets on his game!” Lily huffs, pacing around your room. “Like, I get that he’s tired and all that, but at least a ‘Hi’ would be nice!”

A song you don’t recognize blasts from your speaker, fiery and tumultuous to mimic the current emotions of your friend. With how often she comes over to your place to rant about her boyfriend, it’s a wonder how she doesn’t have a consistent playlist.

“What do you think? Am I just overreacting?” she asks, slumping onto your mattress.

You shake your head. “Not at all.”

“Really? Because if I’m being crazy, I need you to tell me.”

“I know when you’re being crazy, but this isn’t one of those times.”

Lily chuckles before scooting next to you and resting her head on your shoulder. You swallow down the thoughts and words that threaten to burst from your chest, potentially ruining this good thing that you have. Things are fine. Calm down.

“What should I do now?” she asks, her words floating through the open air between the transition of songs. The next song brings in slow, melancholic piano chords paired with a heartbreaking story of unrequited love. Lily’s head sinks deeper into your shoulder like the weight of the lyrics is pulling her down and you’re her only means of support.

You should break up with him.

“You should talk to him,” you say, breathing steadily. “You said that this started happening recently, right? Maybe something happened to him and he just hasn’t told you yet. Most guys are stupid and don’t like talking about their feelings and all that mushy stuff.”

“Talk to him. Right,” she sighs. “You make it sound so simple.”

You shrug. “Things are always more difficult than they seem. It really depends on him for this to work out. You’re doing the best you can, and if he can’t see that then… maybe you should—”

Lily’s phone buzzes from across the room, prompting her to jump towards it with the desperation of a lost puppy finding its owner. Her warmth is stripped away from you in an instant, and the impending cold becomes a grim reminder that it was never yours in the first place. 

Her expression immediately sours as she checks the notification.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, worried.

“No.” Lily’s shoulders slump as she tosses her phone back on your desk with a resounding thud. “Bae just wants me to get her some ice cream on the way home.”

You fail to stifle a chuckle, earning an icy glare from those perfectly round eyes.

“I feel like I’m going insane.” She throws up her hands in exasperation. “What if I just end it all and jump off a cliff?”

“You definitely shouldn’t do that. How else will Bae get her ice cream?” you quip.

“Ha ha, very funny.”

The last bit of sunlight fades past the edge of your window just as the music dies down to give way to the next song. From the first note, you’re left reeling as memories of thumping heartbeats and unattainable closeness flood your mind like a tsunami. Flashing lights, the linoleum scent of the gym floors, your dad’s tie that your mom made you wear, every single excruciating detail of that night comes crashing down in an instant.

The night you cherish deeply, yet regret the most.

“Oh. My. God!” Lily yanks your arm, nearly pulling it out of its socket from sheer excitement. “Get up!”

“W-what?”

“Do you not remember this song!?”

“I-I, uh…” Of course you remember it. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed where you don’t think of what that damned song entails.

“Sophomore year homecoming! We slow danced to this song together! How could you forget that!?” She pouts at you, and it takes every facial muscle you have not to immediately burst out into the dumbest smile.

Without hesitation, Lily pulls your arms around her waist and intertwines her fingers behind your neck, and suddenly, you forget how to breathe, how to think, how to function like a regular human being. 

“I-I think I remember this song,” you stutter, not quite meeting her eyes.

You find yourself being transported back to that sophomore dance as the two of you sway to the beats of the music. Lily rests her head on your chest just as she did back then, and you wonder if she can hear your heartbeat as it races from the proximity. You wonder if she can hear your thoughts, what she would think about how every corner of your mind is occupied by her. You wonder what would’ve happened if you had done something, anything differently that night, if a couple words were the difference between dancing here as lovers or as reminiscing friends.

Say something. This is your only chance. After this, she’ll be gone forever.

Yet, just like that night so many years ago, you stand quietly like a fool, damning yourself to an eternity of forever staying out of her reach.

“That was fun,” Lily giggles as she steps away from you, her fingers lingering in between yours. “I should probably head back though, it’s getting kinda late.”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Regretfully, you let go of her hands and walk her to the front door, trying to not let your mess of emotions reveal itself in your expression.

“Maybe we can hang out again tomorrow! If you’re not busy of course.”

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but yeah, I would like that.” Of course you don’t have anything planned for tomorrow. Even if you did, you’d move Heaven and Earth just to spend another moment with her.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Lily pulls you into a hug like she always does and you fight off every urge screaming at you to keep her close.

“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Long after the door shuts behind her, all you can do is stand there, motionless, like life suddenly stops mattering when she’s not around. This is all your fault, really. It shouldn’t be a surprise that guys would line up for an inkling of a chance with her; in fact, you could fill up entire libraries with books describing how perfect Lily is in every single way, forever pondering how a single glance can fill you up with so much joy and sorrow that it threatens to drown you. You had more than a decade head start, you should’ve been the first one in line.

And yet, your own cowardice got in the way.

Again. And again. And again.

That song plays in your head once more, its melody haunting yet comforting. In a perfect world, the two of you would be able to dance all night to a song that never stops.

[bloop-bl00p]

Are the suffering and consequences in the room with us?

For a place that is supposed to be Hell, there’s little to no effort into showing that these people are punished. Not necessarily by the Hellborns, I very much like the approach of “Hell is other people” but the writers failed at showing us this aspect. Vivziepop's version of Hell feels more like L.A. painted in red. And that’s disappointing.

It’s still a messed up place but outside of episode 4, there’s no real investment in making sure we understand that this is HELL. We see people do drugs yet we see nobody in a zombie-like state on the street. The closest we had was a randoe in Happy Day in Hell but it was a joke.

This is something very blatant with HH, most of the time, when something serious is presented it’s a joke (Sexual assault, drugs, etc...) It’ll depend on whether you're Viv's favorite character or not.

*cough*

Sir Pentious was not.

*cough*

You also see this in how they approached the crimes committed by characters, most of them did messed up things but Charlie never tries to address these despite being the one supposed to care about redemption.

Vaggie participated in genocide, she was angry but for one episode only, and her rant to Alastor was too light-hearted to be taken seriously (again a joke). Rewatch the scene, with an Alastor that doesn't give a damn, the funny music in the background, her goofy facial expression and tone, that’s not taking it seriously narratively.

Alastor was a serial killer and took pleasure in torturing his victims. Currently, he’s a cannibal and slave owner, Charlie does nothing about it. I’m not asking her to free Husk and Nifty we don’t know if she really can, but she could have had a conversation asking Al to not torture people during his stay at the hotel or treat his employees like humans and not pets.

Angel Dust was part of the mafia. From what we’ve seen he isn't against killing people, in fact, he seems to like it.

Every time we see him fight he’s smiling and enjoying himself, it’s said in the pilot that he’ll never miss an opportunity to help Cherry fight in those turf wars of hers. But his problem is druUuUUugs (this is an issue but that’s the only thing pointed out.)

That’s even more noticeable with the cannibals… who are nice? Whoa… you’re saying that the people whose whole culture is to jump you at your most vulnerable, tear through your flesh with teeth and hands just to feast on you in the middle of the street are actually silly guys and gals who like meat a bit too much. How charming ☺️

She was more annoyed that guts and blood went into her eye than anything.

There isn’t enough effort to showcase the horrors of living in a place where your only chance to survive is to be physically stronger and a good manipulator. When we’re shown something awful like “murders or cannibalizing someone” it’s presented as quirky, and funny, and nobody really mentions it. Aren't we supposed to believe that Hell is a bad place as a whole? Is Extermination really the only thing we have to worry about?

What’s the point of adding concepts like forced labor, addiction, and an unfair hierarchical system if you’re not going to show the viewer the horrendous reality of these things?

Vivziepop needs to pick a consistent tone for her series, there’s nothing wrong with joking about murders and EdgyyYyy humor, but that makes the audience detach from the reality of these things and they will have a hard time caring for a character the second they are portrayed as bad. Especially when the transition between funny and serious is from one episode to another.

“Angel and Husk are suffering!!!!!”

The characters that are supposed to be addicts are sober every time we see them on screen. We see Husk drink alcohol directly from the bottle and rather than showing that the toxins are affecting his body by making him sluggish and/or on the verge of vomiting he’s still able to stand still and hold a conversation perfectly. Even if Husk drank like a sailor, there’s so much alcohol your liver can take before eventually letting it affect your system.

But maybe we could use his addiction in a way to reinforce the fact that he isn't free.

Think of it like this, show a few scenes where Husk is excessively drinking experiencing bad hangovers, and not doing his job correctly as a whole. Vaggie complains about this to Alastor saying that til now he has done nothing significant to help the hotel and the employees he brought aren’t even behaving properly. She threatens him saying that he might get kicked out if this continues.

To that, Alastor could later threaten Husk saying he better fix his drinking habits or he’ll broadcast his scream or whatever. Later Husk would still be drinking but you could have little details of Alastor side-eyeing him and him just letting go of his bottles. He’ll still be sluggish but he’ll make sure he’s sober enough to keep The Radio Demon happy.

We never really felt like Husk’s movements were controlled by Alastor, he was just brought into the hotel without his concent, that sucks, but he can still converse normally with the others. In the Pilot, he insulted Deer Boe in his face with no repercussions. A few more scenes like the one in episode 5 to reinforce the power dynamics between him and Al wouldn't kill.

And Angel Dust how many scenes do we see him do drugs yet his body is able to take it all?

He’s supposed to be an addict, there are few mentions of him hiding things in his room but it's all talking! Talking is not bad, you can talk, but it’s boring and holds NO substances when there isn't SHOWING. Imagine this:

Charlie is worried because it’s been an hour and Angel hasn't come back to the Hotel, she knows his schedule as a sex worker is extremely busy but she usually knows when he comes back and he didn't respond to any of her messages.

Before she could go out to search for him, Cherry burst out into the room, a beaten and knocked out Angel on her shoulder. She was barely standing herself as she was also injured, with many cuts freshly bleeding mainly on her arms and face.

Charlie and the other help her get Angel to his room to tend to his wounds and Cherry’s. When she asks for an explanation Bomb explains that Angel couldn't buy his usual stash of drugs at the local store he went to anymore, as it got plundered right after the end of the extermination, the owner was killed and the shop was vulnerable to thieves.

Angel was looking for a very rare type of drug, made in the Gluttony ring, usually, the things made there take you quickly to cloud nine practically knocking you out in the process. The store he bought it from was the only one with prices affordable enough for him.

He eventually found a gang that was willing to give him a very small portion of drugs in exchange for money. Except that he didn't have nearly enough for what they were asking but he still went with it just after his work in one of Val’s clubs, already a shitty idea since he was exposed to many illicit substances when working with the moth so he wasn’t clean.

Obliviously the gang didn't accept a slip payment and tried to rob and take advantage of him. Cherry stepped up, fought a bit, and escaped with Angel, thanks to her smoke bombs, before things could get too serious. She goes on a small rant about how she and Angel are friends and they mutually help each other, when her wounds are patched up she leaves not before asking Angel to call her when he wakes up. Before she could go Charlie proposed to her to stay at the hotel but Cherry refused stating that there were people in the street who probably needed her help, but she might send people to Charlie’s hotel if she felt like they couldn’t survive in the street.

There’s probably a lot I could fix with this story but that’s just a quick example. What did I manage to convey without blatantly saying it? Angel Dust isn’t in a great financial situation, his addiction is so bad that he’s willing to put himself in danger just to get his hand on the strongest dope and Hell is a fucked up place. I didn't say it I showed it and since you’re smart you understood the subtext.

Some will say that there’s Extermination, but first, we just learned that they can fight back and they have a year to prepare themselves so the stakes are lesser.

Second, it’s surprisingly easy to get angelic weapons.

Someone like Striker managed to get multiple angelic weapons to kill Stolas and a rope that neutralized his powers.

An imp, the cockroach of the society, either his killing business is extremely successful or Carmilla’s prices aren’t that high. And don’t go tell me “Stealaa bought it!!” that’s never implied or stated.

Plus the angel leaves these in the open, I’d say it’s quite easy to get one of those right after an Extermination, nobody was surprised Vaggie has a spear so it feels like it’s common for someone to have them.

[theemporium]

click 'here' to unlock the other boyfriends!

.

You had thought you were perfectly content with love being expressed silently until you met Nico Hischier.

For you, love and silence had always been interchangeable throughout your entire life. You weren’t sure when it clicked, when the realisation had been set in stone in your head and never to be argued with. You just knew that silence usually meant good things, that it meant positive feelings. At least, you liked to assume.

When it came to your parents, the silence meant there was no scolding or nitpicking. They were never shy at the way they pointed out your flaws, your mistakes, your errors. It was hidden under concerns and wishes for you to thrive, but the pressure just felt as suffocating and overbearing as them. The silence was a relief from the constant remarks. 

In school, it was like the teachers and professors just expected you to do well. They saw a bright child, so the second the grades started to matter, the assumption was made that you would just thrive. That pressure returned, and you hated the disappointing and disapproving talks you would get if you did badly. Once again, the silence was a relief, it meant they left you alone and that was what you wanted.

It followed as the same in almost every aspect in your life: in your friendships, in your relationships, in your careers, in your achievements. Silence had become so intertwined with love, success and praise in your life that you knew nothing but. 

Until Nico Hischier. 

Maybe it was the captain in him, or maybe it was just the kind of guy Nico was. It was almost comical to think back upon the early stages of your relationship, when everything was so new and his words left you overwhelmed—but in a good way, in a way you didn’t think was possible.

“You didn’t have to wake up with me,” Nico said as he wandered into the kitchen. 

Unlike you who was still in your pyjamas, he was dressed in some sweatpants and a hoodie—the Devils logo and his number standing out on both. His gym bag was dropped at his feet before he wandered over to where you stood by the stove. 

It was early. Dreadfully early, in fact. And despite every cell in your body screaming for you to stay in your warm, cosy bed when Nico’s alarm blared for his early morning practice, you wanted to do a little something for him for once.

“I wanted to make you a proper breakfast,” you shrugged, letting out a soft sigh as he wound his arms around your waist, his chest pressed into your back as the warmth of him washed over you. “An apple and a protein shake isn’t enough.” 

“It’s worked alright so far,” Nico grumbled, his head dropped to your shoulder as he watched you cook. “But thank you. You’re amazing, schätzi.” 

You snorted. “You mean having a proper breakfast is amazing.”

“No,” he said, his voice firm but sincere. “I mean you are amazing. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

And maybe there was still a part of you that wasn’t used to Nico’s constant praise and affection. You could do hugs and kind acts and thoughtful gifts but, fuck, the words really got to you.

It just baffled you how easily the words could pass his lips. It came so naturally to him, so fucking easily that it made you question how you went your whole life having people struggle to even give you basic appreciation but this boy seemed to be able to praise you for something as simple as making him a meal. But it went beyond that.

 Nico did it with everything. 

You look gorgeous, baby, that dress was made for you.

Fuck, schätzi, doing so good f’me. Just like that.

I’m so proud of you.

You’re doing the best you can, baby, you’re so strong.

He wasn’t shy about his appreciation for you. He showed his love in so many different ways that made him the absolute perfect boyfriend, but the words that left his lips were the most consistent and—though you didn’t have the courage to say it yet—your favourite.

“You’re a sap in the mornings,” you commented, because whilst you were used to hearing them, it would still take time to fully accept them and not deflect instantly. 

He knew that. If anything, he thought it was adorable. It prompted him to do it more often just to see how flushed you got, just to see the way you were somehow caught off-guard every single time.

“Maybe you should wake up with me more often,” Nico retorted, swaying your bodies together in the chilly kitchen. “I could use a shower buddy.”

You snorted. “You would never make it to practise on time.”

“That is a sacrifice I’m willing to make,” Nico shrugged, but you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn’t see it.

“You’re gonna set a bad influence, captain,” you teased, shaking your head.

Nico let out a low groan. “Don’t start calling me captain, I have to leave in fifteen.”

“Think of it as motivation to do well,” you countered as you plated up your breakfasts and lightly nudged him so he would allow you to place them on the breakfast bar. “I’ll be in bed waiting for you.”

Nico shot you a look. “You’re a temptress.”

You grinned back.

“A gorgeous, sexy temptress that I can’t wait to come back home too,” Nico continued, pleased at the way your face flushed in response. 

“Dick,” you grumbled but you happily accepted the kiss he placed on your cheek as he thanked you for the breakfast.

And, much to his delight, you were in bed waiting for him after he had come home from practice, eager to climb in with you.

.

[cherryredstars]

holy sbit i just read your actor!mig oneshot and i’m frothing at the mouthjfjfjdand it got me thinking

how would reader react if mig had to do a sex scene for a movie? i mean she’d be fine with outwardly but inwardly, understandably she’d be jealous asf, even though there is security in their relationship i feel like it would be difficult, how would mig react to her being insecure? or maybe jealous because of that🥹

(i saw ur requests were open and i couldn’t help myself, tysm for reading this and you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to i love your work regardless<333)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Insecurity, Mirror Sex, Praise, Fingering, Oral Sex, Mentions to Breeding Kinks

Summary: Nothing but a good sex scene. 

Word Count: 2K (Not Edited)

Part 1

The internet sucks.

You know that, Miguel knows that, everyone knows it. Yet, here you are, hurting your own feelings as your phone feeds you countless posts about your boyfriend and his new movie. His new movie that also stars a really popular, really really pretty female co-star. Who he had sex with. Cinematically. In the movie.

Movie sex is not real sex. Miguel says and reminds you all the time. Most of the time, sex scenes only consist of the actors being shirtless and zoomed in shots of their upper bodies. Convenient things like a perfectly placed object or being under the sheets hid the fact nothing is actually going on. Miguel always assures you that, if the directors want a real sex scene, he’d be out of there in seconds. 

But still, all the edits and tweets and pictures that are filling up every corner of the internet make your skin raise and ache. It definitely looks real. It’s not really a surprise, Miguel and his co-star are wonderful actors. They’re so good at their jobs. It makes you feel gross. Especially when you can’t stop replaying the scene over and over again. It’s not hard to find it, the scene devours the internet like a wildfire. 

She looks pretty. No, not pretty, gorgeous. Hot and sexy and erotic. Nothing like you at all. Her skin is impossibly smooth, shiny and soft. Her lips are painted in a deep red that pops against her skin and draws attention to her perfectly sculpted face. Even if it weren’t for the lipstick, the calculated moans she makes for the camera draws your attention to her mouth. Her moans are perfectly pitched. They’re breathy and her mouth forms the perfect ‘o’. It makes you rub at your throat, an uneasy feeling getting stuck there. You don’t moan like that. 

Her facial expressions are amazing too. Brows furrowed in a way that perfectly showcases her pleasure. But they don’t look funny or distort her face too drastically. When her eyes roll back, her eyelashes flutter so nicely. She doesn’t look possessed or ugly. Your hand subconsciously rubs at your cheek. You don’t look so effortlessly pretty like that.

It ruins you. Why would Miguel possibly want to have sex with you if he has pretty, hotter co-stars? The thought sticks with you even with Miguel on top of you. Usually, you’d be on your back, legs spread and exposed for his viewing pleasure. But you can’t, not today. So Miguel has begrudgingly agreed to take you in a different position. Your ass is in the air, upper body pressed into the mattress. Your face is completely hidden from his view, something Miguel isn’t the happiest about. What’s even worse, he can barely even hear you. You’re pushing your face into one of the stupid pillows, muffling the minimal sounds you’re making. 

Usually, you’re moaning and whining uncontrollably under him. Your mouth never shutting as noise spills from your swollen lips. It drives him crazy to hear your verbal pleasure. The pleasure he gives you. Sometimes you’re babbling broken sentences or just calling out his name, but it's everything to him. So hearing almost complete silence from you, paired with not being able to see your reactions, shoots worry through him. 

He tries everything he knows drives you crazy. He leans forward and pinches and tugs at your clit. It twitches in his fingers, but you don’t make your usual gasps. He spreads your legs wider and juts his hips into you with more force, hitter deeper against your wall. You don’t give him that beautiful, high-pitched scream of his name. You instead, shove your face into the pillow and hum. He leans in and whines into your ear about how tight you are. How he really, really wishes the two of you would throw away all protection so he can fill you up with his baby. Instead of begging and babbling, you wiggle your hips and push back into him. 

Something awful hits his chest. Did he do something wrong? Are you upset with him? Are you not feeling well? Does it not feel good?

He instantly stills, all the arousal he once had disintegrating. He pulls out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. You turn to him in confusion, brows furrowed from over the pillow. He flips you over gently, turning you on your back and dragging you close to him. You still have that pillow pressed to your lower face, arms wrapped around it. You look like a damn vision, naked before him with your hair spread out on the bed. You look like an offering with that white pillow covering your face and chest, leaving him to only focus on your big doe eyes and the fact your legs are spread to accommodate his body. Innocent and cute and sexy. 

His hands land on your outer thighs, warm and big as they rub up and down your skin. It makes you melt into the bed, a sleepy look masking your eyes. Miguel’s heart sings at the pure content on your face, but it doesn’t drown out his concern. He can feel unease in the air and his hair stands on end. Slowly, you pull the pillow away from your face as you realize he isn’t going to slip back inside of you.

“Why y’stop?” you call out shyly to him, a small pout on your lips. You seem nervous and Miguel’s hands tighten on your thighs. 

“You’re acting differently. What’s wrong?” He counters. 

You grow bashful under him, pulling the pillow up to hide your cheeks that are colored in shame. You simply shrug, turning away from him as you slowly start to close your legs. He doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t take his hands off of you. He helps you sit up when you make the move to, his hand moving to grasp both of yours. He gives them a comforting squeeze and a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the comforting clean scent he carries. 

“What’s wrong, mi vida?” He asks again. 

You don’t respond. But you don’t have to. Miguel looks at you like he knows. He always knows. Tentative and caring Miguel who always knows. His kiss to your forehead is rougher, more pressure behind it before he pulls away. The way he carries you is effortless, like he’s carrying a bag of feathers. He moves the two of you to the opposite side of the bed, directly in front of the wall of mirrors that make up the walk-in closet. He sits down first, maneuvering you to sit on his thigh with your back pressed to his front. 

Your eyes are glued to your reflection, naked against Miguel with nothing but a fluffy pillow hiding you. His face nudges at your jawline and neck. He places soft kisses along the skin, distracting you as he takes the pillow from you. He places it to the side, still within your reach. Your fingers itch to grab at it again, but you resist. Instead, you close your eyes and focus on the way Miguel’s fingertips glide over your warm skin and make you shiver. You lean back into him, head resting against his shoulder. His hands travel down, and you bury your face into the crook of his neck to hide your gasp. His fingers caress the lasting stickiness between your thighs, his own leg moving to widen yours. You peek at the mirror from beside his neck, eyes falling to the glistening between your thighs. Your cheeks heat and you nuzzle your face into Miguel as a way to hide. He hums against you, hand still moving and collecting your juices on his finger. You whimper when he pushes it in, thumb swiping gently over your clit.

“Shh, taking it so well, mi hermosa. My pretty baby.” He coos gently into your ear, curling his finger inside of you. 

Your hips buck instinctively, another whine leaving as his finger grazes your walls. His other hand comes to massage your hip and your eyes catch the movement in the mirror. Miguel is looking at the mirror too, studying you. His touch is soft, his finger pumping in and out of you slowly. You moan into his neck, eyes fluttering when he adds another. They scissor inside of you, meeting together to curl. Your hand comes up to hold his, taking it away from your hip and squeezing it tight to stabilize you. 

He hums into your hair, muttering soft praise into the strands. His fingers continue curling, going to the knuckle so he can press onto the gummy spot inside of you. You can’t hold in your moans anymore, giving them freely to him. It makes him smile, kissing the crown of your head. 

“That’s it, singing so prettily for me, yeah?” He asks, letting go of your hand to grab your chin. 

He removes your face from his neck, making you face him. Your eyes are droopy from pleasure, and your lips are parted slightly so soft moans can escape. It makes his cock jump, but he ignores it to give you a sweet kiss. It’s soft and passionate. His lips opened and slanted against yours. His tongue is warm as it slips into your mouth, caressing your own until the both of you are moaning into each other's mouth. It makes your head foggy and you forget all about what you were scared about before. 

When Miguel pulls away, he turns back to the mirror and groans at the sight of you. You’re slick is dripping down his fingers and your skin fucking glows in the reflection. His fingers speed up, his thumb pressing into your swollen bud. 

“Been thinking about you so much, y’know that. Was fucking fantasizing about you during that whole movie. Imagining doing all those things in the script to you drove me fucking crazy. Had to take care of myself in my dressing room thinking about your cute little noises and the faces you make. Mi hermosa nena.”

The little whimper you let out paired with the tightening of your walls is fucking precious. He pulls you into another kiss, quickening his fingers until your whole body is twitching. You have to pull away from the kiss, your hand clawing to his arm and nails digging in as your moans get louder. With a hard flick to your clit and the curling of his fingers, your body is shaking with an orgasm. Your toes curl, head thrown back against his shoulder as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. 

“That’s, that’s my beautiful girl. Ride it out baby, I got you.” He mumbles against your shoulder, pressing kisses along the curve of skin. 

He only stops pumping into you when your hand pushes him away. Your body is heaving with the effort of breathing, and Miguel watches every second through the mirror. When you finally compose yourself, you nuzzle into his skin. It makes Miguel smile, kissing your hair again before gently lifting you off of his lap and laying you down on the bed. You watch hypnotized as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming around them before popping them back out. You whine softly at him, and he chuckles down at you. 

He leaves you on the bed, vanishing into the bathroom before coming back with a towel. It makes your brows furrow, leaning up and your elbows as he begins to clean you up. 

“But… What about you?” You ask, eyes trailing down to his prominent hard-on. 

Miguel follows your line of sight, shaking his head when he looks back up at you. “Don’t worry about it baby, all I care about right now is you.”

His confession makes you melt, letting yourself sink into the bed. His touch is gentle as he cleans you, and he throws the towel to the floor when he’s done. He hovers over you, leaning down to kiss you softly before resting his head against yours. 

“Te amo, mi amor.”

And you know. He always lets you know.

[heliads]

Hellloooo!!! I don’t wanna add to your workload so if this just piles on, please delete it! 😅😊 I just had an idea for a newt x reader fic where they’re in an established relationship in the Glade and during a bonfire one night the boys all ask newt questions about what it’s like to date reader and how it feels and newt just answers with the upmost sweetness. Reader overhears and fluff ensues!!!!

fluff ensues has got to be one of my favorite plot descriptions. like yeah it absolutely will do that (and no worries, nothing will stop the workload from being! newt just helps make it better <3)

masterlist

Newt is aware that he is a little bit luckier than most. This is a sentiment that he never thought he’d be caught dead believing. Not in the Glade. Not in the Maze. Not anywhere in this surreal mess of a place. Yet it’s on repeat in his head on a day to day basis nonetheless, ticking off the hours like an alarm clock consisting solely of his blessings. 

Newt didn’t think he’d have that much to brag about. No memories means no history he can mention to his equally luckless friends. Still, he’s got one important victory in his life that no one else can even dream of, and that’s the fact that he’s dating Y/N. Yeah, that certainly sets him apart in the world of good things given to kids who can’t quite convince themselves they deserve them. 

Some would say that Newt is being a little dramatic. He would argue that his response is perfectly within reason. One girl has been sent up in all the months that anyone’s been in the Glade, one girl and one girl alone, and she just happened to choose him. Around here, that’s grounds for being nominated for sainthood. 

Newt isn’t going to act like he’s not just over the moon every time he thinks about the whole situation. Against all odds, Y/N fell in love with him. That’s so unreal that Newt has to pinch himself every hour on the hour just to make sure it isn’t a dream. He never tries too hard, though. Just in case. 

He didn’t have many thoughts on love before she came up. There wasn’t really time now, was there? It was just him and the scores of other stragglers making do in their bloody terrible world. You don’t spend much time lingering over potential sweethearts when the closest thing to a Romeo is Gally yelling at everyone in the Glade except his friends.

Not great dating material, to say the least. Even when Y/N came up that one month, though, he still hadn’t fallen for her from the start. He liked her, obviously, she was nice and didn’t test his patience, but he was perfectly content to keep her as a friend, just that. Great expectations have a way of letting you down. Newt’s learned that if you keep your eyes on the ground, stop looking up at the sun and stars, you’ll be able to deal with it a little easier when all your brightest aspirations go away.

He’d done that before and he planned on doing it again. Even as time passed and he realized that his heart had a funny way of speeding up whenever she was nearby, when it occurred to him that his daily routines always had a way of working in chances to see her, Newt forced himself to ignore everything. Maybe he liked the way the morning sunlight always played on Y/N’s face, maybe he could have spent hours wondering over the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs. It was nothing that he could ever commit to treasuring above anything else.

It took several rounds of self-talk and about a dozen different interventions staged by his friends for Newt to get up the courage to tell Y/N how he felt. Hell, it took at least half of those interventions for him to even admit how he felt to himself. Newt had been internalizing for so long that bringing some of those emotions to the forefront of his attention was damned near impossible. Minho, Alby, and a few others, however, were so sick of seeing him ‘mope around like a lovesick fool,’ to quote them specifically, that they were dedicated to the task of getting him in order.

It worked, too. Newt had run through what could have been a hundred speech variations in his head, all mentioning her character or her sense of humor or any one of the millions of things he liked about her best. In the end, he didn’t choose a single one. The second Newt pulled Y/N away from a crowd of their friends for ‘something he needed to say in private,’ every single whirlwind of thoughts storming through his head came to an abrupt stop. He totally blanked out. 

Newt wouldn’t even know that he managed to force any words out at all were it not for the fact that the effects of that interaction are quite obvious. Somehow, Y/N ended up returning his affections, and they’ve been doing pretty well ever since. Newt doesn’t like counting his eggs before they hatch and all that, but he’d go so far as to say that he doesn’t see it ever breaking down for quite some time, if ever. They’re alright. They’re great, and they’re happy, and in a place like this, you take that and run with it for as long as you can. Maybe it’ll ruin itself someday, but Newt plans on pushing that off to the distant future for forever and a day.

In the meantime, Newt gets to think about how lucky he is. Despite the fact that Y/N’s apparently been crushing on him for just as long as he started liking her, and despite the fact that Frypan proclaims on a daily basis that he’s never seen two shanks more alike, Newt still feels like all of this is just one great coincidence. Maybe it was never supposed to happen, but it did, and he’s going to love that and her for as long as he can.

She’s waiting for him now, he thinks. Work is over for the day, and there’s a Bonfire Night happening this evening too, courtesy of the shivering Greenie fresh out of the Box who still can’t seem to keep his shock from showing. The fool to whom this celebration is owed looks like he’s going to keel over, what from the way he keeps half doing a backbend from continually craning his neck up to stare at the Walls, but the rest of them can get drunk and fuck around and generally have a good time. 

Greenies never appreciate their Bonfire Nights enough anyway. It’s up to the rest of the Gladers to show them what it’s like to have fun. Who knows the next time they’ll be able to stop stressing over the ruins of their lives anyway? Newt’s heard half a dozen Gladers proclaim that they only live bonfire to bonfire anyway. They might as well prove it tonight.

Newt meets Y/N on the outskirts of the bonfire just as the dark starts to fall. Dusk kicks up its heels, keeping watch over the revels and hiding the sun, which can never bear to see whatever mistakes they’re going to make next. Y/N holds out a hand to him, one Newt gladly accepts.

“I can’t believe it’s been six months now since I first showed up,” she grins, gesturing towards the Box with her free hand, “Feels like just yesterday.”

Newt snorts. “Time flies when you’re having fun, huh? Trust me, the Greenie Days get faster and faster. I swear I just finished touring the last kid, and now we’ve got another one to keep pestering us with questions.”

Y/N shakes her head, considering this. “Nah, I think this one will be better. He’s too scared to speak above a whisper. If you try, you can just ignore him.”

Newt chuckles. “I’m not supposed to be bullying the Greenies. Alby says I’m meant to set a good example.”

“I saw Alby telling Minho to trip the new kid to see if he’d finally make a sound if he bit the dirt,” Y/N comments, “I don’t think kindness is really in our books.”

Newt arches a brow. “I could see that happening. Did it work?”

“No,” Y/N says, disappointed, “Kid was so scared to move a muscle that he didn’t fall at all. Just kind of stopped walking like he’d hit a wall instead of Minho’s ankle.”

Newt tries to bite back a smile. He’s only half successful. “Shame. That would have been fun to see.”

Y/N laughs. “That’s what I said. Anyways, they’re all over there, near the fire. I think the next strategy is to give the kid some of Gally’s brew in the hopes that it’ll coax something out of him other than his dinner.”

Newt shudders. “Best of luck to him.”

“And to me,” Y/N replies, “I think I’m going to get a glass of my own. See you in a second.”

Newt waves a casual hand in goodbye, watching as his girlfriend weaves through the steadily forming crowds of Gladers in an attempt to track down a drink. He takes a seat near an overturned log, staring into the fire as it disappears into sparks. Six months since Y/N appeared in the Box, so it’s been indeed.

Newt can’t decide whether that feels like a long time or not nearly long enough. Y/N’s changed him in almost every way, that much is obvious. Sometimes, in meeting someone you know will impact you forever, you almost want them to have been around for much longer. Strangers aren’t meant to become your best friends, not until you’ve known them for years and you have scores of memories to share. You want to give them decades in your mind, centuries, as a sign that they’ve been so important to you. Mere months aren’t enough. Surely it should be more.

It isn’t, and maybe that’s for the best. Newt has no memories save for when he came up his own share of months ago. All his friends are new, all his enemies still more recent. Maybe the girl he loves has only been in his life for a short time, but his recorded life is short indeed. Everything is modern. That’s just how it is.

Newt becomes aware of eyes on him and realizes that he might not be the only one reminiscing about when Y/N came up in the maze. A few Gladers have come up by Newt’s side, steadily appearing out of the gloom and smoke to stare at him.

Newt glances at them questioningly, and a few moments later the bravest of them dares to voice their collective thoughts. “What’s it like dating Y/N?” The boy asks, “you know, since she’s the only girl?”

Newt smiles to himself. “It’s great,” he says.

This clearly isn’t the response the other boy wants. “Yeah,” he repeats, “but what’s it like? It’s not like the rest of us have our own girlfriends to compare it with.”

Newt bites back a laugh. “Well,” he begins, noticing out of the corner of his eyes that the other boys draw closer to him expectantly, “it’s like having a best friend, but even better. She’s someone I can talk to at any time, but I don’t have to worry about seeming uncool or weird around her. Y/N knows exactly who I am, the good and the bad, but she’s chosen to be with me anyway. It makes you feel like you can do anything.”

The boy nods, accepting this. “Are you ever worried that she’s going to get tired of you and leave you for someone else?”

“If you’re asking me if I’m worried about competition,” Newt says slowly, “I’d say, don’t think you even have a chance. She’s my girlfriend, you bloody shank, not some object you can steal away. Anyway, obviously I’d like it if she stayed with me a while longer, but I’m not scared, no. I know that we’re happy, and that’s enough.”

The boy’s face flushes scarlet when Newt calls him out, but he seems to have made his peace with it at the end. Newt’s half expecting more questions, but all of a sudden they scatter to the corners of the celebration. A few moments later, the cause of the disturbance becomes obvious:  Y/N herself takes a seat next to him, glass in hand.

“It seems like you had a score of admirers,” she says, lips twitching up into a smile.

Newt groans. “More like your admirers, trust me. They wanted to ask about what it was like to date you. Not something I thought I’d be discussing with the Slicers-in-training, but why not?”

Y/N laughs. “Oh, I know. I have to say, though, it was very sweet. Being with me makes you feel like you can do anything?”

Newt feels his entire face heat up, and he briefly ponders launching himself into the fire to escape it. “I didn’t realize you were eavesdropping. That’s rude, you know.”

Y/N just grins. “I do apologize. It was very sweet, though. I appreciated it.”

Newt rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep a smile off of his face for long. “Does that mean you won’t leave me for some random boy who showed up a few months ago?”

“I’ll consider it,” she assures him, “like you said, though, I wouldn’t worry much. I happen to like being with you quite a bit as well.”

Newt reaches over, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her close. Y/N leans her head on his shoulder, and they stay there for quite some time, watching the embers of the fire curl into ribbons of smoke up in the darkest reaches of the sky. The bonfire dances, their friends shout and clap and laugh all around them, and through it, they keep going. All is well.

tmr tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @thatfangirl42, @hiya-its-amber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @23victoria, @w1shes43, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

[erenjaegerwifee]

Don’t tell him

Survive the Night: Day 1

Paring: Lo'ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Cheating, kissing, masturbation, manipulation (just a tiny bit), rough sex, explicit language, mentions of blood, squirting, fingering, degradation, dirty talk, choking, knife Play,

Word Count: 5.3K

Disclaimer: All characters are aged up! if this makes you uncomfortable, do not read

Event Masterlist

Your mate Tsu’ti is a wonderful man. He works so hard to keep you safe and provided for, so much so that he’s the second in command to the clan’s new Olo’eyktan, Neteyam. He is kind and smart, and these are only some of the qualities that drew you to him. However, since he moved up in rank, he has been much busier than he was before. He leaves your kelku before dawn and comes back after eclipse when your fast asleep. The only time you get to feel his body against yours is when he snuggles into your neck at night.  

You are very happy being married to him and you have never regrated your decision, but you are extremely sexually frustrated now. He isn’t around the way he used to be. Back when he wasn't second in command for Neteyam, he was around more. Always home for dinner, always there to snuggle together before bed every night. Now you have no such privilege.  

You don’t know when this started but you can’t seem to stop yourself from doing it. Your kelku looks over a part if the warrior training ground. You always liked the high view of the forest it gave you but it always gave you access to look at your husband. Since you do not really have a job in the clan, your duties consist of making sure your quarters are kept in top shape and to take care of your husband. But he now trains in a different part of the grounds so you no longer see him. However, you do see all these other muscular men.  

They’re perfectly sculptured bodies, honestly you feel bad you've never had eyes for anyone except your husband. Though now that you are horny all the time, you notice things you didn’t before, people you didn’t before. One of these people just so happens to be Lo’ak Sully. 

Neteyam’s younger brother took up the mantle your husband held before, training young warriors, which just so happen to be right under your window. You know the brothers well now; your husband grew up alongside them and introduced you. They are always welcome for dinner and used to join you both a couple times a week.  

You feel like you have mapped out his routine from the moment he arrived to the grounds until the moment he leaves. You can’t seem to keep your eyes off him. Lo’ak has grown much over the years, his lean body, slutty waist, his huge biceps and hands. That man looks like Eywa herself carved him; you can’t believe you never noticed him before. It is not the only way he has grown but also emotionally, he matured a lot from the stories you heard about him in the pass. He is not as impulsive or reckless as he once way, there is even talk of him getting a mate in the near future.  

Today however was different, he wasn't meant to have training for the next few days because he was supposed to go on a hunting trip on his brother and your husband who has left early dawn. Here he was though, sat on a rock under the shade of a tree, sharpening his knife. You were practically drooling over him, watching his arms bulge with the movements, his grip on the knife exposed his veiny forearms. You felt like you were getting more turning on by the minute watching him.  

Lo'ak wasn’t even doing something remotely sexual, yet here you are soaking up your loincloth, essence messing up your thighs. You gnawed at your lip until it turned cherry red, ready to burst. Without thinking you slump down to the floor eyes still above the window so you could see his figure and you hand stuffed down into your folds lathering up the wetness before inserting one of your fingers. It is been so long since you have touched yourself let alone someone else touch you. You are surprised at the level of slick you feel around your fingers and thighs. 

Your other hand fiddles with the beads in front of your breast before you move them aside pinching and pulling at your nipple. Your eyes still haven’t left his frame, you aren't even sure you’ve blinked in the pass few minutes. You were so close to your first relief, thinking about all the things that man would do to you. All the positions he could effortlessly fold you into, all the ways he could make you scream using his hands, his tongue, his cock. Oh, you bet his cock is huge, you’ve heard women talking about their sexual escapades with him and it sounded fucking amazing, all the ways they described he made them cum so good.  

Lastly that big knife that looks small in his huge hands but you know you couldn’t wrap yours around the handle...you just know his handle would look so big in your hand. You roll your eyes at the thought, the wet noises coming from in between your legs as you thinking about him pressing down the cool knife on your tummy while he fucks you, feeling him run it over your body sending chills all over you. Maybe he’d drawn a little bit of blood and press his tongue down on you to clean it up. You near your release thinking about how good his tongue would feel pressed down on your skin like that- 

“Fuck!” he hissed, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts. You raise your head alarmed above the window sill, fingers still snug inside your pussy. He shakes his hand out watching the blood splatter in the green grass, he cut himself. “Lo’ak are you ok?” you say without even thinking. He looks up towards your voice taking note of your messy hair, blushed purple cheeks and sweet red lips, and just your overall fucked-out look. He’d be lying if he said he never thought about fucking those sweet lips- “Yea I'm fine just cut myself” he smiles softly, “you don’t happen to have a first aid kit?”  

You do have one, your husband made it a point to make sure your kept one in the house, he always said ‘you’ll never know when you get a little cut.’ Again, without thinking you nod your head and watch him stand up shielding his knife on his hip and walk up to the tree that your kelku is built on  

‘Shit oh no’ 

You rip your hands out of your loincloth and spring up, stumbling around to clean yourself up before he walks through that doorway. Lo’ak is a very skilled climb shouldn’t take him more than a few seconds to reach- “hey”  

You spin on your heel hiding your hands behind your back as you use a cloth that was thrown aside to wipe your juices off. Unfortunately for you, your hair was still messy and your clothes were shriveled and there was a wet stain on your lavender colored loincloth, as if you had spilled water on yourself, or something else. You aren’t as slick as you thought you were cleaning up. Lo’ak could smell your essence on the cushion you were previously sitting on, you didn’t even realize you leaked.  

“Hey- sit, sit I'll get the-” you stumble around looking for it through the shelves as he sits down on the cushions situated against the wall. “How’d you cut your hand?” you ask him as you walk over to him with the kit. “Sharpening my knife, not that it needed it I was just tryna relief some frustration” he sighed out.  

“What happened?  Is it because you didn’t go with this this morning?” you ask about the hunting trip. “Yea my brother told me to stay home, that I'll go on the next one so Tsu’ti can stay home then” he tilts his head back eyes still on you as you open up the kit and pull his hand into your lap. You skin is feverish, hot to the touch, ‘when was the last time your husband touched you?’ The thought crosses his mind. 

“I bet it’s been tough huh, not having him around?” you move in closer to get a better angle to clean his cut. “Yea it’s weird not having him around, sometimes I wonder what keeps him so busy” you chuckle a bit making him laugh as well. You finish up cleaning his finger and you feel his hand move up to tuck some of your loose hair behind your ears. Only then did his closeness invade you, his scent hit you like a truck ‘Eywa did he always smell so good?’ 

Your eyes raise to meet his and your noses always touch. Without another thought you brush his lips into am impulsive kiss. His lips felt so soft and warm, his hair tickled the side of your neck when you tilt your head making you squeeze your thighs together, the action doesn’t go unnoticed by Lo’ak, he felt it. You didn’t continue the kiss though, pulling away just as quickly as you kissed him.

You look up into his eyes panicked trying to decipher what he might be feeling. What have you done? No did you just ruin your friendship with him? Is he going to tell your husband? Did you just ruin your marriage? Thoughts fly through your mind at full speed as you blabber out apologies to him. 

“Sorry Lo’ak, ‘m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. Please don’t tell tsu’ti, he’ll leave me I'm sorry! I’ve just been so frustrated and he’s not around to help me and I’m sorry!” Tears spill just as fast as your words when you try to explain yourself, begging him to keep it a secret. You didn't want to end your marriage, you let your frustration get the better of you and you never meant for this to happen, especially not with someone your husband is so close to.  

“Woah- woah baby don’t cry” he pleads with you, his hands move up to your shoulder holding you in place as he tries to calm you down, continuously telling you ‘Its ok’ and ‘don’t worries’ spew from him, but none of it seems to stop your rambling. “Hey- hey y/n sweetheart, I won’t tell him.” 

 Now that gets your attention. You’ve somehow ended up half way into his lap with one leg thrown over his behind him and the other folded between the both of you, “you’re not going to tell him?” you sniffle looking up at him with wide eyes. Lo’ak brought a hand up to your face drying your tears while he shook his head ‘no’. “Not gonna tell him, I know you're not used to having him around, it is ok” he shushes you down and pull your head to his chest.  

What you don’t know is Lo’ak has wanted to fuck you since the day he met you, but you were always off limits being his friend's girl. But all things chance, never mind the fact and you are still happily mated to one of his friends, you are not satisfied. It would be wrong of him to not help you right? It would be wrong of him to leave you here in a little puddle of horniness. He knows you can’t help yourself the way your husband might be able to. So maybe if he offers his help...you wouldn’t have to tell your husband.  

Maybe you’ll take it and he’d be able to fuck you like he always wanted to. He'd be able to get down in that cunt and ruin it for you. He just knows you’d love that from the drunken conversation he once had from your husband, he knows you like it rough. Lo’ak inhales deeply, his nose buried in your hair as you rest on his chest. His skin is warm, almost hot. He’s always loved the way you smelt, every time you pass by him, he gets a whiff of your sweet conditioner, make from sweet flowers and fruit essences.  

Lo’ak shuts his eyes before making his little moves, nothing too obvious but he just wants to make sure you don’t say no when he asks you his pending question. One of his hands run up and down your back soothing you, but this time it runs a bit lower to the base of your tail. His index and middle fingers open to curly around it subtly. Curtius of your drunken husband again, there is a lot of things Lo’ak knows about you that he shouldn’t.  

This for instance, he shouldn’t know playing with and pulling on your tail turns you on. He also shouldn’t know you like it when your mate starts you off gently then rails you roughly until you cum. But Lo’ak isn’t gonna stop just after you cum, he’s never getting this chance again he’s gonna give it to you until you passing out cock drunk on him, or until he’s shooting blanks.  

Your thigh tightens a bit around his hip and you sniffles come to a minimum as you feel his hand on you. Your tail thrashes a bit feeling the tinges his fingers send down to your hole. Your lips part slightly and you breathe through your mouth. Hot breath hits his chest and he knows he has you exactly where he wants you. His fingers then grip the base of your tail and with small squeezes until he runs it up to the fluff at the end before letting it go and starting over again. His other hand moves down to your ankle that is folded in his lap, his fingers brush over his before softly gripping and messaging the bone. 

 Because of your compromising position, that hand, those fingers are dangerously close to your pussy, to where you want him the most. You have to continue to remind yourself of your husband but it doesn’t really help you. Your mind runs circles around only one thing, one person. Lo’ak  

His hands feel so good on your skin, so warm. Your mind runs to the times your husband touches you with cold fingers and you subconsciously compare both men. You feel bad you really do, this is wrong. Sitting in the arms of another man and letting him touch you in ways only your husband should. A sharp tug to your tail pulls out of your thoughts and your body shifts up instinctively making your clit brush against the knuckle of his hand. The double stimulation makes you moan pathetically and you raise your head to look at him with wide eyes.   

Lo’ak can see how conflicted you are, on one hand you want to be loyal to your husband and he doesn’t blame you at all for that, but on the other he knows he want him to put his cock down on you just as much as he does. “Lo’ak-”  

“Shh... I know you miss your husband sweetheart, but he left you like this, alone and horny right? Wanna let me help you out” his voice sound so sweet but you push down the thought immediately protesting. “Lo’ak that cheatin-” 

“Baby, today is only the first day of the hunting trip, he’s gonna be gone for a week most likely, maybe longer if they don’t hunt enough, are you really gonna suffer yourself for that long, let me help you out, I know you want me to” 

Lo’ak hand moves from your ankle to your loincloth smoothly, rubbing the wet spot you created over your clit making you pant through parted lips, “Look how wet you are sweetheart? I've barely even touched you...you don’t really want me to stop to you” he asked sweetly rubbing circles on your swollen nub. 

You bite your lip looking up at him and eyes water. You aren’t sure if it is because if how guilt you feel letting him feel you up in such an inappropriate way or if it is because you don’t want him to stop. “You didn’t answer my question sweet girl you want me to stop?” he asks again. His movements slow down a bit as if he's about to stop. 

You don’t know what to say. He fingers feel so good on you. This is wrong your married. But he’s gonna make you cum. But this is cheating. But your finally gonna get some relief after so much weeks of waiting for your husband to be available.  

Screw it. You stretch your head up bringing him into a heated kiss, he immediately reciprocates and kisses you back. His hand starts moving faster on your clit drawing out whimpers into his mouth. He takes the opportunity and sticks his tongue in exploring your entire mouth, his tongue is long maybe he’ll stick it in your- 

He uses the hand that was playing with your tail and wraps it around your back pulling you further into his lap. Your legs stretch out and curl around his lower back. Your hands move up to his arms squeezing the muscle between your fingers. You moan and whimper into his mouth before he picks you up off the ground effortlessly and places you down on your sleeping mat.  

Thanks to your husband you have a big seven-foot mirror sitting right in from of the mat. You watch your flush reflection, messy hair, purple blush now down to your neck, tear-stained cheeks. You look like you just had sex when in reality you haven’t even started yet. You find yourself comparing both men again, you never look like this when your husband fucks you, or when he is about to fuck you. 

Lo'ak moved his body behind yours, legs spread and he pulls you back to his front. You lean your head back on his firm chest making eye contact with him in the mirror as he runs his hands over your body. “You won’t tell him I touched you right?” you shook your head no. “Because you that if he finds out that will be the end of me seeing you, forever” the thought makes you pout slightly but you nod anyways.  

He smirks in the mirror as he unties your loincloth from around your hips and toss it to the side, he spreads your legs throwing both your knees over his thighs then he wastes no time bringing his hand back down to your clit, circling the bud before running his fingers down your wet slit. 

You mewl and shut your eyes when he inserts his middle and ring finger into your hole. You feel like you are about to cum and he just started. “You look so pretty baby” he says watching you in the mirror as you moan and squirm in his lap. 

“Taking my fingers so well” his voice deep edges you on more, “Does your husband do this with you baby? Does he finger your sweet cunt?” you feel his chest vibrating behind you, almost like he’s purring when he speaks to you. “Ah- yea, so-sometimes he does yea.” you mumble out. 

“He doesn’t stretch you out before he fucks you sweetheart?” his free hand moves your beaded top to the side to play with your perky tits. “no- no time” you moan as you near your release. “Coming! Coming Lo’ak” without a reply you squirt on his fingers, juices spray messing up the mat and a few cushions, some even end up on the mirror across the room.  

“Fuck I didn’t know you could do that sweetheart” Lo’ak says in awe of what he just made happen. You pant trying to catch your breath as you lean your head back on his shoulder and closer your eyes, “never done that before, first time” you blush bringing your hands up to cover your face.  

He grabs a hold of your hands pulling them from your face and looks down at you, “So, if that enough can I go?” you look at him shocked, he’s leaving you like this? Just like that be burst out laughing in your face. “Oh no sweetheart you don’t really think I’d leave you like this? What kind of man do you think I am” he buried his face in your neck kissing and sucking but being careful not to leave any marks. You pull your hands away from him and elbow him int he ribs before sitting up and facing him.  

He was about to protest but when your hands untied the string holding your top and let it drop to the ground, he suddenly had no complains. Lo’ak looked at your tits wickedly, as if he had planned beforehand what he would do. He did, you just didn’t know that yet. He pulled you closer by your hips, pulling your chest right into his face. He sucked on your nipples one by one, pinching and pulling on the other that wasn’t in his mouth. You whimpered and wiggled in his grasp. 

You sat yourself down on his lap feeling his bulge through his loincloth, you grinding down on him moving back and forth making yourself feel good on his body. Lo’ak started moaning from your movements, his grip on you becomes tighter.  

You bring both your hands up to the sides of his face, threading your fingers through his braids. You pull his head away from your chest and you to your face to kiss you. For the first time since he’s been like this with you, Lo’ak moaned. You felt that you could cum untouched from the noise he just made. It made you giggle against his lips thinking about it. He pulled away looking at you confused, “Why are you laughing?” he smiles at your sweet laugh.  

“You sound really sexy when you moan” you smile before going back into the kiss, this time he laughs and mumbled a ‘thank you’ against your lips. Your hands moved down his chest and abdomen slowly, soaking in the feeling of all the ridges down his abs as your soft fingers move. You eventually make it down to his loincloth trying and failing to untie it. Lo’ak makes no more to help you though, he finds your struggling entertaining.  

You give up pulling away from the kiss and looking down at his knot trying to undo it, ignoring the sound of his amused laughter. You glimpse the knife he has shielded away on his hip and pull it out of the protective strap. “Woah-” his eyes flash in panic like you were about to hurt him but quickly calmed down when all you do was cut the string holding his loincloth together and he lets out a breath of relief. 

You hold the knife up in the air next to your faces as you watch his cock spring out of the confinement and slap his abdomen right under his belly button. Your eyes widen slights are you watch his sheer size; you have never taken anything that big before. “Like what you see?” your eyes follow the voice back up to his face to see him laid back against the wall smirking at you.  

You bite your lip looking at him prettily, “Yea it’s really big” your free hand moves to stroke him a bit. Your fingers don’t touch because you can’t full wrap your hand around his cock but you still give the head a nice squeeze, hearing him let out a deep groan and throw his head back.  

“You know Lo’ak, earlier before you came up, I was watching you, I was watching you sharpen your knife, and you looked so hot doing it...you handle it so well I mean, look at it in my hand...” you bite your lip gesturing the knife that is the size of your entire head in your other hand. Lo’ak was so engrossed in watching your small hand pump his cock he almost didn’t realize you were speaking to him.  

His eyes raise up to your other hand watching your small hand wiggle it in the air, your fingers couldn’t fit around that either. “Gosh baby” his big palm came and covered yours holding the knife and he smirked while it took it out of your hand. “You wanna play with this?” he asked you as he moved the hand with the knife behind your back pressing the point to the top of your neck. 

The cold metal made your gasp for air as you lean forward closer to his body, both your hands now pumping his cock together making him feel good. Lo’ak begins to move the knife so the sharp tip is pressed up against your soft skin, but not enough to actually cut you. The slight pinch for the blade feels so pleasurable, you had no idea you would have liked it so much, but here you are. 

Lo’ak drags the knife down your back slowly, making sure you feel very bit of the drag. Your tail comes up to wrap around his forearm as you tilt your head back slightly, still looking him in the eye. “You liked that baby?” you quickly, and a bit desperately nod your head. “Listen I’m going to do something, if you don’t like it, I need you to say to work ‘red’ ok?” he speaks in a serious tone making sure you understand and when you nod your head once more, he takes it as a sign to continue.  

“You are going to make me cum with those pretty hands yea? And if you don’t, I’m gonna start cutting” he’s tone changes quickly back into a very seductive one. “Cut what Lo?” you pout dumbly. “You sweetheart” he brings the knife down to one of your thighs and press to metal tip down into your skin, not enough to draw blood but just so it will hurt a bit, and leave a small dent.  

Your breathing picks up as you tilt your head down and let a heavy drop of spit fall on the head of his cock, he whimpers at the feeling before his jaw went slack watching you pump for slit all over his entire length. Lo’ak feels like his body lagged by the way you so effectively made him want to cum all over your pretty face.  

He moves the knife around your body, occasionally pressing down leaving small dents and marks all over. The process makes your cunt slick, and creates a deep purple blush on your face. Finally, he draws blood, the knife kinked right beneath your collarbone making you whimper. Lo’ak brings his head closer to the part of your body that now slowly drips blood.  

Now you have imagined this before, but you never thought it would feel like this. His warm tongue makes contact with your skin, you get chills down the length of your spine. Your hands stutter before continuing the fast movements bringing him closer to his release. It feels so good, you throw your head back, mouth ajar as you pump him faster and faster.  

Lo’ak groans into your skin when he shoots his cum all over your tummy and hands. He pulls away watching you pant as if you just came, you bring one of your hands up to your mouth and licked it clean making eye contact with him. “Fuck baby you are just perfect aren’t you” he roughly grips your neck as he pulls you in for a kiss.  

The roughness catches you off guard but you welcome it happily. Your whimpers are cut off by this tightening grip on the sides of your neck, the way he presses down on your windpipe is just so fucking good. You break the kiss tilting your head up so he can have full access, “Oh you dirty bitch” he chuckles darkly, “you like getting choked, you want me to cut off your air and make you high sweetheart...damn does your husband choke you like this to get you off baby? You like feeling his one hand cover your entire throat?” Lo’ak smirks, laughing softly while he speaks. 

He finds it very amusing the way you, turn into a full-blown freak when he thought you were such an innocent little husband pleaser. You are fucking perfect. If he has known all this time, you’d be this nasty he would have tried to fuck you a long time ago. “Lo’ak please-” you wheeze out. 

“Please what baby?” he teases you. He loves hearing your sweet voice beg him, he has no intention of wasting time though. He lets go of your neck and grips your hips before spinning you onto all fours. You are facing the mirror now and you watch him get up on his knees behind you. “I want you to watch yourself take my cock. I want you to make sure you remember no one else can fuck you the way i do, not even your sweet husband” he rubs your ass and up your back as he speaks, gripping and spreading your cheeks to get a better view. You don’t even get a chance to reply when you feel his cock rubbing between your wet folds.  

Lo’ak pushes in slowly glancing from your reaction in the mirror to the sight of his dick disappearing inside you inch by inch. He watches your body drop down onto the mat head still facing the mirror. Now he has more than one perfect view off your arch. When he bottoms out, you both moan in unison. Feeling his grit stretch you out like no one ever has, he is quite possibly the biggest cock you’ve ever taken, and you're loving it.  

When he stars moving you feel like you're seeing stars, your mouth gaping just like your cunt and you mewl loudly at his rough thrust. He is quite literally fucking you into the mat, you can barely breath as he pounds into you. “Fuck- Lo AH!”  

“Yea you like that baby- like feeling my big cock fuck your little hole, yea I know you like that you slutty little thing” his words come out through gritted teeth and his hands come down to around your neck, effectively pulling your head off the mat and pulling you back into his thrust the same time. You scream as you look at yourself in the mirror, new tears fall down your cheeks but this time from pleasure. You aren’t sure if you're coming because of his vulgar words, or because he is fucking you so good.  

A combination of both feels right. He looks so sexy, he looks like he was meant to be the man fucking you, he looks like he’s gonna come. You watch him throw his head back his grip on you somehow becomes stronger when you gush all over his cock and thighs. He looks down at your leaking pussy, “Shit baby, came so fucking good for me” he pants out and speeds up his thrust ready to come. “Where do you want it sweet girl?” he lets your head go and it falls back to the mat, he bends his head down to your ear when he asks his last question.  

“Mifa Lo’ak pleaseee” you beg. He is 100 percent not in his right mind, he is definitely not thinking about the detrimental consequences this could have on you both. But who cars right now it feels good. It feels right. When he releases his load, he kissing your neck and whimpering sweetly into your ear, “fuck, fuck, fuck” then your both fall to the side together, his body curling around yours. Your eyes are shut as you both lay in silence, you know what you’ve done is beyond wrong, but you can’t find it in yourself to be guilt, at least not right now. Oh well that’s tomorrow's problem.  

✨thanks so much for reading! Likes, repost and comments are always appreciated!

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[inamindfarfaraway]

Hnnng dehumanisation in Spies are Forever. Curt's “not a man, [he's] property of the United States government". Tatiana wasn't a child, she was an “instrument of war”, a “killing machine". It’s particularly poignant that Barb calls Curt property of their government, a cog in the machine, because she knows that she’s in the same boat, and in fact socially inferior to him as both a woman and a support worker to his more prestigious career. She herself has always seen and valued him as a person and is constantly trying to make him reciprocate. But he initially views her as just a cool gadget dispenser. Technology appears to be her only means of asserting her worth and earning people’s attention, which might be why she’s working on a global information network, essentially the internet - the ultimate technological platform for human connection and collaboration. Cynthia is so committed to overcoming her human vulnerability in order to be the best tool her country could possibly ask for that she poisons herself every day to build up an immunity. One of the villains is a literal Nazi who uses a literal puppet. And the other is Owen.

Owen's evil vision is "turning everyone into a spy", aka property. Instruments for him to conduct. Creating a global surveillance network, because the internet has as much power to distance and isolate people as to unite them. The machine failed him when he was a cog in it, so he aims to replace it with a more efficient one and control it this time; he cannot comprehend of any ethical improvement to or dismantling of the machine itself. His problem with spies is that they contaminate the ruthless political mechanisms with messy, fallible humanity... and vice versa. Agent Mega messed up the mission because he was human; Curt left his boyfriend for dead because he was a spy. You can’t be both. Person or tool. So Owen chooses the one that can’t be hurt. He willingly becomes a tool of CHIMERA, a living weapon. He kills and tortures hundreds of people, considers himself an actor in a story and others expendable characters, does everything he can to detach himself from ideas of personhood. “Who needs spies when a box in a room can do your job in seconds?" Humanity is worthless. Obsolete.

Except no, it isn't. Curt and his allies proves it. After the prologue, Curt simultaneously makes Owen’s mistake of binary thinking. First he wants to be purely a man, and an absolute wreck of one; then he wants to be purely the greatest spy ever, with no sentimental weaknesses. But he can’t maintain that divide. He has to be both. The team win with their skills, training and expertise and by being human - social, irrational animals, working together, loving each for the sake of it, acting spontaneously. They aren’t tools that Owen can perfectly predict and manipulate. Curt surprises him. And Owen, for all his icy calculations and grand talk, cannot escape his humanity any more than he can destroy Curt’s, as his last scene makes painfully clear. He lowers his gun like a person. His voice breaks like one. He bleeds like one. Meanwhile, Barb is a genius engineer and Tatiana is a master assassin. You’d think that their climactic moment of triumph would demonstrate Barb’s amazing technology or Tatiana’s combat skills, but instead the focus is on them simply talking to each other and even Mrs Mega. Human connection and collaboration. Human error that doesn’t negate their victory. “You can break a computer box, but you can’t break the will of a man.” That’s what Curt is. Not property. A man. He is a gay, unemployed man; Barb is a woman in STEM; Tatiana is a female ex-KGB Russian immigrant; all in the United States of America in the 1960s, a very bad time and place to be all of those things. Yet they will survive. They are not alone and they will endure. Spies are forever because they are people.

And the narrative consistently emphasises that everybody is a person! It mocks the Nazis, obviously, but even then Baron von Nazi isn’t a one-dimensional monster, he has emotions and cognitive biases and a backstory and fondness for cheeseburgers. Sergio isn’t just an interchangeable criminal, he’s a devoted family man awkwardly trying to lighten his work atmosphere. Richard Big isn’t just a crass parody, he has moral principles. We hear all kinds of characters’ thoughts and feelings: the Informant, Barb’s fellow scientists, the waiter at the casino, the guests at the gala. This affirmation that everyone has a inner life means that yes, anyone can be a spy.

[astrea16]

Piers and Pirates

So I've never watched One Piece before the live action, and I was curious about the anime but wasn’t sure I’d be into it so I started with Skypiea right away. The interesting thing I’ve noted about the structure of the story is that it reads a lot like a DnD campaign: one big journey divided into story arcs with their own atmospheres and challenges, and of course the iconic “you want to go now?” that turns into a ten-episode prep before the sky islands. I’ve briefly mentioned them before, but some of the encounters are so creative. I’m thinking for example of the Swamp Priest with the body control of a toddler who can’t cross his arms on his chest and forgets to say things out loud; or the old lady at sky customs who will let you pass because she can’t do anything to stop you but then sends an entire squadron after you. It’s a shame the anime is so poorly paced because the worldbuilding is genuinely phenomenal—but then again, it’s like watching a really long DnD campaign.

You can tell that Oda put a lot of research into his manga because every piece of information feels believable, whether it be Robin’s knowledge on ancient civilizations—the fact that Skypiea itself was inspired by the Mysterious Cities of Gold makes so much sense—or Nami’s navigation skills. It feels like you could sail in any direction and find an island with incredibly rich lore and characters. I’m just in awe of how unique each of them feels. Character creation is HARD, and yet no two are the same in Oda’s world. I could only achieve this level of depth with consistent roleplay, and he did it with all of his characters. They speak for decades of reading stories and consuming art blooming into one personal mindscape.

But the most remarkable one is Luffy. As opposed to the typical hero on a journey, Luffy doesn’t stand out because of a major personal growth or anything of the kind. toraheart put it perfectly in their analysis by calling him a catalyst: the story isn’t about Luffy, it’s about how he changes the world around him. How he inspires people to break free from their chains, how he stands for an ideology. More than an actor, Luffy is a symbol. And you can see that as clear as day in One Piece Fan Letter (2024) where he receives less than a minute of screen time, yet his presence resonates throughout the entire episode. The Marine who was inspired to save his brother in a moment of crisis, finding his strength in the boy whose own brother had died before his very eyes. The little girl looking up to Nami as a beacon of hope and rebellion, the same woman who found the courage to ask for help so that she could free herself from a decade of child exploitation at last. The teenager who works at the bookstore, listening to Brook’s music to get through her day. All of these were informed in some ways by the unstoppable force that is Monkey D. Luffy. He quite literally jumped out of a fire in that episode, and we know that epic imagery is one of the most evocative means of inspiration. If the boy wasn’t an anarchist, he’d be the face of revolutionary propaganda.

Speaking of anarchy, some people have called him a terrorist and I think I can stand with that. Luffy is kind, yes, but he is also selfish and stubborn. Despite his desire to help people achieve their dreams, he is entirely unconcerned with casualties when he’s fighting. He has only one goal in mind and will do anything to see it to the end. What compels me isn’t his beastly strength or his extraordinary abilities, it’s the fact that he wants everyone to do the same. To find their one piece, and to add it to the puzzle. It may not fit the first time around, but there will be people riding the same wave as you. And if someone stands in your way, well then screw that! Why do you think Luffy was so happy to have his face on a wanted poster? I’ll give you a hint, it’s not because it confirms his power. It’s because he knows that the world finally sees him. Luffy doesn’t really care about the treasure, he wants to become King of the Pirates so that he can have a place in a world that doesn’t want him.

To finish up on Fan Letter because it’s a masterpiece and I need everyone to acknowledge it, you really get this sense of carelessness from the Strawhats making their escape out of Sabaody. Yeah, everybody knows what they’re up to and they’re not exactly subtle about it (see: Luffy), but since when do they give a damn? The whole world is watching and they’re not even looking back, they’re just feeling the wind in their backs and staring straight ahead. Doesn’t that make you want to go on a grand adventure yourself?

By the way, if you liked the feel of the animation I highly recommend checking out the Gobelins channel on YouTube. It features several shorts by aspiring filmmakers in art school and they’re all a freaking delight to watch.

[kachowden]

Hello! Just found your blog recently but i really like it here :3

Could we learn more about Apis the bull demon, specifically i would like to know about these special "needs" u mentioned

Of course! And thank you so much that means a lot anon <3 （＾∇＾）

TW: nsfw themes, degradation, Excessive cum, size difference, “milking”, overstimulation, slight masochism

——————————

The hallow, thundering sound of your bedpost smashing against the wall filled your once neat and tidy bedroom.

“For fucks sake Apis not again!”

The beast mewled in embarrassment

It was a filthy sight really.

The bed was misshapen, sheets falling off, pillows thrown across the room. The only exception being the two head pillows, that cushioned the bull demons heavy cock. Just barely.

It twitched and pulsed to life under your stare, thick globs of pretty cum dripping from the flaming head, soaking your pillows more than they had already been.

You’ll have to get those thrown out.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. No, the first time it happened you damn near passed out in shock. Actually no, you did pass out. You woke up the sight of large pecs squished into your face, and a hefty weight strewn across your lap. You passed twice that day actually.

To be perfectly honest you weren’t very well versed in the needs or biology of demons, nor more specifically bull demons. So how could you have know these guys needed a regular “milking”?

You pitied the poor fella who first discovered that.

Speaking of.

Apis whined needily at your wandering thoughts, forcing a multitude of disgusting, filthy lewd visuals to flood in, and encouraging you to take a deep breath and squeeze your thighs together tightly.

He practically purred at the sight, hips stuttering forward slightly and smearing cum against your sheets.

“Apis didn’t we take care of this last week? Isn’t it supposed to be monthly?”

Emphasis on supposed to be. Apis was a special case though.

You’d taken him to a “demon expert” once, to find out why he was so consistently hot and bothered.

Apparently since he was “infatuated” with you, and you two had yet to mate, the “milking” period was had become much more frequent in an attempt to coerce you into having sex with him. You know like how some demons have pheromone’s and heats and all that?

Except you don’t know because you literally knew nothing about demons before meeting Apis.

Just your luck right?

Painintheassfuckingmotherfucker-

Anyway.

It was annoying to put simply. Granted, bull demon seed sold for quite a lot to most “farms” and “grocers”. So in terms of some extra cash it really wasn’t all that bad. It was just a massive blow to your pride and mental stability.

Not to mention it made your back hurt something awful.

The poor guy was a fucking mess during milking time. It was hard to keep him to sit still half the time, especially with his whip like tail occasionally smacking you in the face, and him trying to grab you or grind into your side.

Typically he was pretty well behaved, just not on days like this which has become more and more frequent.

You guessed this “milking” period was pretty effective.

Your hand wasn’t nearly big enough to wrap around the full girth of his cock, so more often than not you’d have to use both to successfully lift the thing up. It was heavy too, which often meant you had to take breaks. But you’d gotten better!

You supposed that wasn’t really something to be proud of.

Luckily it wasn’t that difficult to get him going after that. You were pretty sure you could breathe on it and he’d ejaculate at least a pound or two worth. But that never solved the problem. He needed direct stimulation, from you, before his dick would go back down and he’d be good for a few more weeks.

So typically you had to be extra hands on. Which is what you were doing now.

The bull demon rested dutifully against the sofa, length stood proud and pulsing above the metal bucket on the floor, meant to catch whatever came out.

You’d done this enough times to have finally bought a big enough bucket. You could probably take a bath in the thing if you really wanted to even, though that wasn’t really important to mention right now.

Apis let out a half growl half whimper, as his hips bucked upwards, cock head rubbing against your cheek disgustingly.

Motherfucker had the audacity to moan at the sight.

“Watch it!” You pushed the appendage away, unfortunately causing Apis to release another deliciously filthy moan at the split second contact, as more pre cum rushed from the sweet Cherry red tip of his cock.

He was such a pathetic mess.

why was he such a pathetic hot mess?!

His teary eye urged you to continue, your mind being overwhelmed with the desperate and erotic imagery he sent to you.

You were 90% sure you couldn’t bend that way.

You supposed you had to finish this quickly now, less this bull decided to finally take matters into his own hands.

Your hands gripped at the base of his cock, encouraging even more pre cum to dribble out, before you finally began pumping.

It was an arm work out for sure, but you couldn’t help and admire the visuals at this point.

His head was thrown back, and his pretty pattered fur fluffed up with pleasure. Delicious, sultry moans poured from his jagged teeth, and his shoulders shook with the force which he gripped the couch head. You could hear it cracking under the pressure of his fingers. The implications of those hands holding you down made you shiver, and pump your hands a little faster.

At some point however, the pathetic mewls and moans began to fade into white noise, as your previous trance quickly turned into irritation.

Especially at the sight of your ruined furniture.

Whyd this happen to you exactly anyway? All you did was find the guy when he was wandering in your back yard at night. You thought he was trying to rob you or something! But he looked so sad that you stupidly took pity on him.

You didn’t have to offer him to stay though! Maybe he hypnotized you or something. Maybe he hypnotized you into naming him too! Maybe he’s the reason your stuck here, say and night, helping an overgrown cow jerk off in your living room, in your house, when you could be doing literally anything else after a long, exhausting, annoying day! Maybe he-!

“Ahhhgn!”

A loud blaring, thundering wave hit your thoughts like a truck, forcing you away from your angry inner tantrum.

Apis had never done that before.

Oh.

The bull demons eye was screwed shut, tears pouring out from behind his eye lids, his whole body riddled with tremors as orgasm after orgasm was ripped from his poor abused cock. He whined deeply and pathetic, choking out moans with strangled pants and furious blush that swelled over his cheeks and shoulders.

He slumped back tiredly, as fat bursts of seed shot from his cock all over the floor and couch. The bucket overflowing with cum that you hadn’t even noticed till now.

Holy shit

This was probably the most disgustingly sexy thing you’d ever seen. He looked utterly ruined

You would have felt bad for the poor bastard too, had it not been for the stupid wobbly grin and your name being sang like a prayer from the bulls thoughts.

What a pain in the ass.

“?”

“Not an invitation.”

———————————-

A/n: hope you enjoyed <3

[chaifootsteps]

What makes me sad about the spindle crew sometimes is while maybe the majority of the staff just see it as a job and nothing more (which is perfectly fine) it’s only people who are really passionate about the project who will engage with the story and recognise flaws in the writing/have headcanons, AU, etc, things they do or don’t like. Like that artist who made the AU that stolas and Stella were on okay terms and faked being into each other. They were ripped to shreds for it.

People who write long threads dissecting scenes, symbolism, and look for consistency in the writing are giving a huge compliment by engaging with it that deeply. When you go to English class, aside from original creating, that is almost entirely what is happening. Analysing media. Even in a scrutinising way. Video essays are also a compliment.

Yet those are the people medrano sets her hate mobs after, blocks on Twitter, vague tweets about angrily. That’s just bad business. It’s not about the bad writing, it’s alienating people by being the most hostile, oversensitive, arrogant version of yourself. And all those people say ‘yknow what fine. This show isn’t worth my energy if you get punished for paying attention” = decline in engagement, decline in views. Negative rep.

Hell you can’t even make satire memes about her show. I guarantee you the my name is caine thing more than anything was a massive blow to the reputation and viewership. And all she had to do to avoid it was repost it with a laughing emote, to stay ahead of the curve and turn it into something fun and lighthearted. Millions of people saw what happened and how childishly she handled it.

It's extremely sad. Nothing I or anyone else says will ever inflict as much damage on Viv as Viv herself did with the "my name is Caine, I am your bitch" debacle, where millions of people sat there and saw firsthand how she treated someone who meant her zero ill-will, and then continued to do so even after it was made clear to her that it was just a lighthearted meme made in lighthearted fun.

To Viv, being a fan of her works and supporting her monetarily isn't enough. You'll engage with her shows uncritically and exactly the way she wants you to, or you're subhuman to her.