#it just makes me so frustrated that their personal lives were exposed in such a cruel way | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

killerpancakeburger · 3 months

Text

KNIGHT IN SHINING KHAKI

Gif by @bastardcompany

SUMMARY: You've angered the wrong officer. You think you're a goner when Johnny sweeps in to save the day.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader ("her" is used to refer to reader once, that's it) (+ Reader's hair is long enough to grab)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Depressed!Reader, Insecure!Reader, Angry!Soap, Protective!Soap, GuardDog!Soap, canon violence, hurt/comfort, swearing, blood mention. Ghost makes an appearance as a matchmaker lol. The love is requited they're just insecure idiots. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: My original prompt for this was: civilian!reader sees Soap in action and gets Horny. No Scared Just Horny.

Then I found out that Soap canonically beat up an officer. I am also obsessed with this video.

Part 1. Part 3.

This is it, you thought to yourself.

This is how I die.

The day had unfolded like any other. Your shift was over and you were locking up your office, as usual. Your attention was focused on your hands’ motion, your guard dropped, your back exposed.

This explained why, when the stranger grabbed your hair and bashed your head against the door mercilessly, you didn’t see it coming in the slightest. The fact that you had zero combat experience while the person manhandling you was a decorated military officer obviously made matters worse, but at the moment of the assault, you didn’t know that.

The thud of the collision was eclipsed almost immediately by the pain exploding in your face. Half-stunned, all you could comprehend at the moment, every single signal sent by your brain was compacted in one word: suffering. Sharp, all-encompassing. You yelped, your hands vainly pushing against the cold, hard surface to get away.

“I've finally found you, you little snitch. Didn’t think you'd get away with it, now did you?”

Despite the blood thumping in your ears, and how groggy the hit on your head made you, his words reached you perfectly. They were seeping with fury and disdain. His voice didn’t ring a bell, so you tried to turn your head to glimpse him, if only at the corner of your eye, and he granted you some leeway to do so.

Perplexity filled you as you finally caught sight of your aggressor: you've never seen that man before.

“I don't even know who you are,” you winced.

Talking back in your situation would be judged stupid and reckless by a majority of people. Laying low assured more chances to avoid harm.

However most people hadn't been mugged at knifepoint like you had been, and most people valued their lives way more than you did.

Once the confusion and incredulity subsided, the pain still vivid but manageable, you were left with frustration and anger towards your interminable bad luck and the man behind you. His aversion was harder to take seriously when it seemed to have no foundation.

The grip on your hair tightened, making you grit your teeth.

“I'll refresh your memory, then.”

One part of you managed to be pleased to know that this mystery would be solved; the rest was ringing alarm bells when hearing the underlying threats in his tone.

“Weeks ago, you filed a report for embezzlement.”

You frowned, having no recollection of his claims, before a memory emerged. You saw them in flashes: the sudden, abnormally high spendings, the certificates full of anomalies, the incoherent dates; all this lead you to complete a reporting form, just as your job required you to. It was just a formality. You hadn't even even paid attention to the name attached to the expenses, therefore the officer was still anonymous.

Your aggressor scoffs menacingly, easily reading on your face that you remembered.

“They're gonna strip me of my rank and throw me in jail because of you. I'll make you pay even if it’s the last thing I do.”

That last sentence was finished in an almost shout, making you flinch, wishing you could pass through the door.

You quietly resigned yourself to your fate. No one was coming for you. You were no stranger to the inner workings of the military - no one would dare cross an officer that high-ranked for your sake.

I've lived a good li- well, no. A pretty shitty life, actually. But at least I can say I did the right thing.

Just as you closed your eyes and braced yourself, hoping this wouldn’t drag on, a Scottish-accentuated roar resonated in the empty hall.

“Get yer hands off her-”

You had never heard Soap sound so enraged, nor his pitch so gravelly. Relief flooded through you at the sound of his voice, blended with gratitude. Tears stinged the corners of your eyes.

All of a sudden the unyielding grip on your hair was gone, the sound of something violently hitting the wall punctuating your newfound freedom.

“-ye fucking bastard!”

You immediately turned around to see what was happening, leaning against the door behind you. Your legs were too shaky to be reliable. The harmed side of your face was throbbing in pain as you took in the scene with wide eyes.

Johnny had pinned the officer against the wall with one forearm across his chest. He dealt him a punch to the face powerful enough that the resulting thud made you grimace, despite not feeling any sympathy for his target.

He managed to administer a second blow before his adversary snapped out of his stupor, and the advantage he gained from taking him by surprise ran its course.

As your assailant defended himself with the strength of someone backed into a corner, you couldn't help but fear for Soap's safety for a moment. Despite knowing that one's rank didn’t reflect their fighting prowess, a rush of anxiety passed through you at the idea that he could lose that confrontation.

Nonetheless, he quickly put your mind at ease as his skills proved to be largely superior. The gap between the two was deep enough that it was obvious even to a neophyte like you.

Paralyzed, you couldn’t do anything but stare at the display of violence with a mix of morbid fascination and sadistic satisfaction. Honestly, if you could borrow Soap's body, you would without a doubt inflict the same treatment on that man. Maybe worse. Fair payback for the threats, the smashing of your face, the probable trauma you'd get from this. Maybe not that fair. But maybe for once you'd stop trying to act like a paragon of virtue.

You should have been scared, you realized. You had never been involved in a fight before. You had never witnessed firsthand the brutality Johnny was capable of, despite being aware of it, between his status as a soldier and the reports you read. The dog tags jingling from his neck and the khaki of his uniform were like so many visual reminders that he was a killing machine. His ferocious wrath, his yelling and his punches should have made you cower in fright.

However the only feeling inhabiting you was safety, as paradoxical as it sounded. Soap was safe, you were convinced of it, consciously or not.

This whole ordeal felt like it lasted an eternity and a minute at the same time. You blinked and out of nowhere, Johnny was straddling the officer on the floor. Blows kept pouring in but they were one-sided - the sergeant had gained the upper hand. The rhythm of his strikes seemed attuned to the beatings of your heart. Each resonated inside of your ears with your skull as their echo chamber. The noise was loud enough to cover your own thoughts.

As you focused on your breathing, you managed to slow down your heartbeats, and the blood-fueled pump between your ribs no longer felt like it could burst out of your chest at any moment. You failed however to contain the tremor in your hands.

You chose to focus on Soap's hands instead. They were soaked red from blood spilled, but not his. Specks of crimson sprinkled his hair, his face, his neck, his t-shirt.

There was a certain sort of lethal beauty to this brutal display that you couldn't help but contemplate in reverent silence: the way his bicep swole when he threw his arm back before hitting his target. The tightening of the muscles beneath the tanned skin of his arms. His icy stare. The harsh line of his jaw. His stern, inflexible expression, one he usually wore in meetings or after Price gave the order to leave.

The expression of someone who would stop at nothing, provided a bleak little voice in the back of your mind. The idea didn’t bother you nearly as much as it should have.

“Not gonna make him stop?”

The familiar grunt of Ghost's voice almost made you jump out of your skin. You pivoted and the behemoth of a lieutenant was there, in casual clothes, right by your side. You had no idea when he arrived or how long he's been standing there, quiet like a shadow.

Something dark flashed in his brown eyes as his gaze lingered on the hurt side of your face.

“Why would I show mercy to someone who would have granted me none?” you scoffed bitterly.

“Someone's bloodthirsty.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You turned your attention back to Soap and Ghost did the same.

“I doubt he would listen to me.”

“He would,” stated the masked man, with the assertiveness of someone announcing a conviction.

“But if ya don't believe me…”

A beat, then.

“Oï, Johnny!”

The shout was nonchalant, like it was something he did often, calling off his sergeant from some prey like the Scotsman was his personal attack dog.

The effect was immediate.

Soap abruptly froze, blinking a couple times as if awakening from a trance. Then he perked up, and turned around, eyes searching. The first sound that left his lips was a call of your name. His gaze latched onto you and didn’t let go as he stood up and rushed towards you. The naked vulnerability, the raw openness in his voice and on his face were so earnest that they felt like a Cupid's arrow shot straight between your lungs. It left you devoid of speech and motion, so as Johnny reached for you, all you could do was try to convey your reassurances through your eyes; that you were mostly fine, and so grateful, but worried for him, that he made everything better-

His arms closing around you made the outside disappear, and suddenly the whole world came down to Johnny, and only him. His embrace was enjoyable for a second before the pressure of his body against your face woke up your contusions. You let out a muffled cry of pain and he released you immediately, swearing and apologizing. However his hands didn’t leave you, grasping your shoulders.

“C'mere hen, lemme have a look at ye.”

“Oh, I'm fine, you should worry about-”

Your voice pathetically died in your throat as he cupped your face, leaning over, way too close for your heart to not start stammering uncontrollably.

The combined attention of his fingertips on your skin and the turquoise of his eyes roaming your visage turned your cheeks into a blazing inferno.

Unable to maintain eye contact, your gaze wandered over his own injuries, a split lip and a couple of bruises.

Suddenly he grabbed your chin between his thumb and index, tilting your face one way and the other. Your skin flared up at the contact, pleasant yet nervous tingles scattering all over your body.

“Ye sure he didn’t hit ye on that side? Yer a wee bit red.”

You bit back a whine of complaint at that comment. He couldn’t be that oblivious.

“Yer makin’ it worse, Johnny.” sneaked Ghost, the amusement manifest in his voice - at least to you.

Soap looked up to him, frowning in incomprehension, indignant.

“The hell ya on aboot L.T.? How am ah makin’ it worse?”

You panicked.

“Shut up Riley!” you hissed, in a desperate attempt to put a stop to his shenanigans, forgetting that you were supposed to be severely intimidated by the masked man.

That drew a gruff chuckle out of him. Your sudden outburst caused Johnny to release you.

“Not that I'm not glad to see you, but why are you two even here, anyway?”

You were kind of proud of your ability to change the subject.

“Was comin’ tae get ye fer a game,” smiled Soap, and it reminded you of a pet proudly presenting its owners with its findings.

“This one wasn’t coming back, and neither of you were answering your phones, so we figured somethin’ went wrong. And we were right. This poor fucker is wanted. Called in reinforcements to deal with him.”

Footsteps’ noises caught your attention. A group of soldiers in uniform seized your aggressor and brought him to his feet, before unceremoniously shoving him in the direction opposite of you.

“Gotta tell Gaz the game ain't happening tonight.”

By the time you took in what Ghost had said, and turned away from the procession, he had already disappeared.

“This isn’t over,” menaced the officer, passing by your spot as he was hauled away. “When I get out-”

“Shut the fuck up,” snarled Soap instantly, protectively positionning himself in front of you.

“Found yourself a faithful guard dog, uh?” the other man taunted.

One one hand, that last remark wasn’t so far from the truth - he had been acting a lot like that: barking threats, baring his teeths, standing between you and the menace, reducing a man to a bloody pulp for hitting you…

But on the other hand, letting that piece of shit talk to Johnny this way was simply out of the question.

Before thinking, you found yourself walking in front of the sergeant and retorting.

“What, jealous he's ten times the man you'll never be?”

Fortunately for you, he was dragged away before he could snap anything back. That didn’t prevent you from regretting your snarky comment immediately. It had been a purely impulsive urge, the kind that could make you feel heavy remorse for days, if not years. As if this seasoned combat expert needed your aid to defend himself. The idea was ludicrous.

You didn’t get a moment to mope around however, as Johnny proceeded to grab you by the hips and press you flush against him with a jubilant smirk. You couldn’t do much except prop yourself with both hands on his pectorals to avoid stumbling.

“My hero.” he praised like a smitten damsel in distress.

“Look who's talking.”

You lowered your gaze despite yourself, mumbling your reply, a half smile on your lips, embarrassed but amused.

“Going after bastards is mah job, not yours. You gutsy little thing.”

You refrained a sarcastic laughter at the nickname - gutsy and little were two things you have never been called, as far as you can remember. But you weren't about to argue with the man who just saved your sorry ass.

His fingers pressed into your flesh, sending tickles at the bottom of your spine.You were about to ask him to let you go, the position too incriminating for this public setting, when you noticed how dilated his pupils were. He had to be high on adrenaline from the fight.

You may have let yourself get lost in the blue pools of his eyes, until his expression turned grave.

“Ye sure yer good? Yer too calm about this. No need tae put oan a brave face fer me, aye?”

The genuine, serious concern in his eyes made the inside of your stomach twist.

“I'm good. You arrived just in time,” you assured.

How peculiar it felt to be the one to comfort Johnny, rather than the opposite; that the lionhearted, superhuman sergeant Mactavish might even need such a thing; that he might require it from you, of all people.

“He didn’t get to do much.”

His pretty features contorted into a scowl at the reminder of your attacker.

“That sonuvabitch… raising a hand on ye in broad fuckin’ daylight… if he ever touches ye again, I swear I’ll…”

As he kept fulminating against your assailant, you couldn’t stop an endeared smile from spreading on your lips. Listening to one of Soap's rants brightened your mood; it was familiar. The sincerity in his words and his tone was welcome. He wasn’t able to fake those emotions even if he wanted to; they spilled out of him like a waterfall. His honest worry and righteous ire towards someone who hurt you was… flattering, in a sense. It made you feel cared for, like you mattered.

Then red started dripping.

“Johnny… your nose is bleeding.”

He wiped it negligently with the back of his hand, only succeeding in smearing it over his face. You couldn’t hold back a snort.

“Bend over. It will stop faster.”

“Buy me dinner first.”

He punctuated his quip with a suggestive wriggle of his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes.

“Let's just go to medical already.” you grumbled, starting to walk decisively, albeit stiffly, in the right direction.

“Aye, aye,” acquiesced your savior, jogging a bit to catch up to you.

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obsessedwrhys · 5 months

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Can we have a part 2 Deadpool reader with the boys and maybe soldier boy too❓❓ if you want to of course

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ The Boys x Deadpool!Reader

t/w: loooots of dark humour/jokes, reader's origin will be explained underneath, reader is still an asshole lol that comes with the character, mention about killing,death,gore, weed, drugs, Reader is gn!!!

ᯓ★ here's a version with the seven, kiss kiss <3

Origin:

Quick summary, when you were born, your parents had agreed with Vought to have you be pumped full of Compound V so you could grow up and be a hero working under them, but the problem was when you were around 7, they changed their mind so Vought ended up sending several people to come to your house to settle the matter.

Your whole family was massacred in the living room during thanksgiving and when they tried to capture you. You were able to run away. Homeless and living on the street, you grew up in a life of crime, depending on nobody but yourself. Make sense? No? Good! Let's start now.

BUTCHER

To him, you were like a fly that won't leave him alone.

How he knew you was through Mallory, she thought you were okay and fit for the job since you hated Vought just as much.

Obviously he didn't like you once you were introduced to him and the two (M.M and Frenchie)

"No way am I lettin' a supe join us"

":("

Though after what happened to Mallory's grandchildren, the gang pretty much dispersed but wherever Butcher went, you followed. Since he was the only person you trusted... and also enjoy annoying the shit out of.

He'd head inside a club, relieved he hadn't seen you for the past few days so he decided to grab a drink by the bar to unwind.

"Whiskey" He said with his eyes looking around, paranoia shown on his face.

Once his drink was served, he would look back to find your eyes smiling at him, you were wearing a bartender disguise over your red suit.

"Did you miss me?"

"Oh christ..."

When you heard word that he was gathering back the team, you had to be there. What kind of friend would you be if you didn't?

Undoubtedly he had to admit, there were times where he was grateful to have you on the team but there were also other times he regretted it.

For example, that time when you guys needed to sneak into a lab to get something and the goal was to stay quiet but even that simple rule was hard for you to follow.

"Room's up ahead. (Y/N) I need you to—"

"Heads up!" You said as you threw a bomb at the metal door.

The explosion causing the alarm to turn on and it had the whole lab now on high alert. You shrug innocently when Butcher glared at you like he wanted to tear you apart.

Also, you enjoy constantly pissing him off. You can't die so you don't really care if he'll kill you for it.

"Maybe, if you didn' press the fuckin' button, we wouldn't have to come bac' to save yer ass from the guards"

"OOH GOD SAVE THE QUEEEN!! Please, cry me a fucking river. I got us the target didn't I?"

"He's dead"

"Well you weren't being specific when you said to capture him"

But it's fine, all his frustration will be solved once he uses you as bait. He knows you can't die but hey, it makes him feel slightly better watching you get shot at.

Despite your ups and downs, he appreciates you. When the team would turn against him on his insane journey for revenge, he always found you the only one still standing by his side. You're loyal and he likes that.

Compatibility? 75%

HUGHIE

You treat him like a child.

No seriously you baby talk him sometimes and it annoys him

"Awwwww is little hughie angry?"

"Stop..."

"Does baby want his milky?"

Since he's pretty much the only person who isn't that exposed to crime as the others, he's terrified 100% everytime when he's paired up to do any dirty work with you.

"Now listen buddy, you better start talking or I'm gonna shoot" You said, gun raised at the man who seemed to be begging you to spare his life in a language you didn't speak.

"I don't think he speaks English"

"Ah shit... ENGLISH!! SPEAK!! ABCDEFG??!"

"How is shouting in English gonna make him understand?"

"Eh, you're right"

BANG

"WHY'D YOU SHOOT HIM??!"

"Well did you expect me to pull out Duolingo and start taking classes?!"

You had to admit, it was a pain in the ass each time he starts giving you the cold shoulder whenever he gets mad at you for doing something terrible. It was like his way of guilt tripping you so you always try to apologise in your own ways.

"Hey..." You said, handing him ice cream.

"...I uh... I don’t like Strawberry ice cream... I thought I told you that"

"God you're so ungrateful!!"

Since he was such a scaredy cat, you try to tone down your craziness a bit. For the sake of him not going into cardiac arrest.

"(Y/N) STOP!! She has nothing to do with this!! She was tricked" Hughie grabbed you by the arm to pull your gun away from the innocent woman.

You turn your head to look at him, then at the woman, then at him again, then the woman, then him again.

"Ugh finnnne... you're boring..."

However, he does appreciate you trying to be a better person. Even you had to admit, after you met him and became friends. You noticed yourself being less brutal than you used to be. The thought keeps you awake at night and it scares the shit out of you.

But oh well, how could you ever say no to those scared little puppy eyes?

Compatibility? 55%

FRENCHIE

He's like your hype man which is concerning.

Not because you're not afraid to get the job done but also because you always have his back.

"Well... I need some gunpowder but I've run out of them" Frenchie said, telling Butcher that the plan was most likely not gonna happen.

"Hold on" You said with the typical comical ☝🏻 gesture before heading into a different room. Everyone exchanging confused glances at what you could possibly be doing.

After a few minutes you'd return with a bag of gunpowder while struggling to zip up your pants with the other hand.

"Don't tell me how I got it. It almost tore me apart" You said, rubbing your ass.

On stressful nights, you guys would enjoy smoking weed together by the sofa and share stories of your traumatic childhood. It's how you guys bond and it's oddly wholesome.

Also when he needs a shoulder to cry on, you were always there for him. You two shared a type of relationship that even Romeo and Juliet couldn't compete with. To be fair they're dead so they actually can't fight.

"Hey reader!! If you're gonna keep reading then you might as well give the post a like or a repost. C'mon, pleassssseeee pleasepleaseplease"

"Ma cerise, who are you talking to?"

Although he doesn't mind your behaviour sometimes but he won't tolerate it if you ever cross the line on something. He's like the owner who sprays water at his pet cat when they don't listen.

"What are you mad at me for?!?!"

"You damn near tried to get us killed!!"

"Hey! You're the one who said it would be a suicide mission so I made sure it was a suicide mission!!"

"WHAT?"

There's no way he can deny how curious he is about where you get your guns and things. He once went in your room to find boxes of dynamite and a RPG just placed against the wall like furniture.

Like do you have a supplier or are you your own supplier?

Compatibility? 99.9%

M.M

Everybody deserves second chances.

He always tells him that to calm himself down everytime you managed to fuck up a thoroughly planned mission.

"What did I say about pressing buttons (Y/N)?"

"Honestly I stopped paying attention after you said 'Listen here'."

M.M has to be the only person you fear to the fact you try very hard to avoid him, this is because his long ass lectures are such a pain to deal with.

"How many times do I have to remind you? You can't just go around doing shit like that. You gotta consider the amount of danger you'll put everyone in..."

"(Blah blah blah... he's still going... uggggh... make it stop...!)"

Unable to handle the lecture any longer, you ended up shooting yourself in the head.

"(Y/N)!" His tone more disappointed than concern since this wasn't the first time you did this to escape his talks.

You know that russian dollhouse he tries to build in season 2? Well you'd constantly be found standing or sitting near him when he's trying to finish the set.

Since you're aware of his OCD, you like to edge him on by sometimes rearranging the parts or stealing some of it so he ends up searching high and low for the missing parts.

You had to admit it was entertaining to watch him accuse other people for touching his stuff when it was you behind all the schemes.

I'd like to think that after every mission when you happen to die, he'd be the one in charge of collecting your remains so you'd grow back.

That's why it comes naturally that his job is to make sure you don't do anything extreme.

"Where are my bombs??!?!" You'd shout, storming around the place looking for them.

"I sold them. Thought it'd do us more good knowing you won’t accidentally blow us up"

"WHAT?! GOD! It's like the writers of the show couldn't afford another explosion for this season so they had to use this DUMB of an excuse!!"

Though he does see some good in you through the messed up parts, he once saw you give his daughter a cute teddy bear when they've been burned by Vought.

She still has the bear and M.M likes to think that maybe you have a soft spot for kids since you never had a proper childhood. That's why he chooses to understand you rather than just being ignorant about your behaviour.

Compatibility? 80%

KIMIKO

She finds you a little odd but she doesn't mind once she realises how everyone is used to you being like that.

Whenever you're bored, you'd come to see what she was up to. Just imagine you sitting on the sofa like a curious kid as you watch her write alphabets on the book.

She also tries to communicate with you since she thought maybe your fucked up mind would understand her better in a way. Like how in season 2 she was repeatedly writing 'boy' to Frenchie but he didn't understand, so she came to you.

"Woow... watching you try to talk to me is like watching a baby take it's first breath..."

"😐"

"It's beautiful..."

Turns out her theory was wrong, you had a harder time understanding her compared to the rest.

Since you're the only two people in the group with powers, most of the time you two are sent on dangerous missions together. It's a nightmare for her because everybody knows communication is key but one is mute and the other doesn't listen.

"(Be quiet! There's people in the other room!)" She'd sign to you but you were busy humming a song while throwing around the enemies equipment.

"Oooh, what's this?" You held up a Homelander figurine which made you laugh as you show it to her.

"Hey look! 'I'm Homelander, I'm God's favourite. I play golf with Jesus every Sunday."

"(Can you please take this seriously?)"

"You're right, you gotta stop messing around Kimiko! We have a target to kill here" You said and you threw the figurine away which apparently clashes into a stack of boxes that came crashing down. The sound making everyone inside the building grab their weapons and began cornering you two in the room.

"😡"

"Okay that wasn't me that was gravity"

For the boys, you were plan A and she was plan B. That's because you always end up rushing into a fight first which most of the time resulted in you getting dismembered, which she later comes in to save you.

For example when Stormfront had stopped you guys, your bright ass thought it was a good idea to charge at her even though everyone was signalling you to stop. Next thing you know you were just a head being carried by M.M, you ended up watching as Kimiko fought Stormfront with the help of Starlight and Queen Maeve.

"That's my girl!! Now can anyone lend me a hand? I think I lost mine"

Compatibility? 97%

Bonus +

SOLDIER BOY

You know the scene where he walks out of his containment with the gas surrounding him? You swore when you watched him step out butt naked, you could hear angels singing and trumpets playing inside your head.

Shockingly enough, he was the only person who appreciated your humour. Could be a generation thing. He's just relieved not everyone has gone soft over the years.

In a way, you feel like you've become his babysitter. Everytime Butcher and Hughie left to do some business, you were in charge of making sure he doesn't blow up anyone. You kept him entertained so he didn't mind. That's why on the hunt for his former team members, he immediately chose you to be by his side.

"I'll take red with me"

"Red as in the american flag or the russians?" You asked which had him do the typical boomer laugh.

"I like you, you're funny" He said with a strong pat on your shoulder.

Butcher doesn't mind you with him cause he trusts that you can keep him under control. Hughie on the other hand isn't sure if you can even keep yourself under control.

"Shhh... wait... do you hear that?"

"Ah shit, did I accidentally said my dirty thoughts out loud? It's just you look breedable in that suit"

Another thing he likes about you is that you're okay with killing pretty much anyone, just try not to overstep cause that could potentially piss him off.

"I told you he's mine" He said as he had you pinned against one of the trees, apparently you had shot Mindstorm in the head when he literally made it clear to you minutes ago that was his kill.

"Quite possessive aren't you? I can recommended a therapist I know. Her names Martha—"

"You shut your mouth before I shove my shield up your ass"

"Gasp don't you DARE threaten me with a good time!!"

At the end of Season 3, you would obviously side with Butcher when everyone started to turn against Soldier Boy. He had to admit he was kinda hurt though, he expected you to be on his side.

"So what? You're crawling back to him now? After what we've been through?"

"Sorry big daddy, but Butcher has been my day one and I also happen to love him veryvery much"

Cue Butcher rolling his eyes out of disgust.

Compatibility? 100% but after the betrayal? 0% 😔

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makoodles · 2 years

Text

tìtunu | tsu'tey (part 4 | nsfw)

pairing: tsu'tey x human fem reader

word count: 10k words

warnings: nsfw, jealousy, hurt/comfort, size difference, p in v sex, doggy-style, rough (?) sex

notes: i really though that i was finished with this, but y'all got me with the asks about jealous and protective tsu'tey 😭 (also this gif makes me fucking FERALLLL)

read it on ao3

part one | part two | part three (nsfw) | part 4 (nsfw) masterlist

Tsu’tey doesn’t think he’s ever been so smug in his whole life.

He survived the battle with the Sky People, he has healed from his wounds and come back even stronger, and he has been successful in his mating advances with his chosen mate.

The fact that his chosen mate was one of the little sky demons that he hates so much, was a surprise to the whole village (he had surprised himself too, truthfully) but everything is different with you. You are not destructive, you are not harmful – you study the flora and fauna of his planet with the reverence of a wide-eyed child, and he finds it terribly endearing. You are so small, and his planet can be such a harsh place for one as soft as a human. It’s a constant source of frustration and concern, despite his best efforts to handle and minimise possible risks.

“You are certain?” He demands of the Sky Person in front of him.

The man is one of the so-called scientists that live in the pathetic excuse for housing that the alien demons had built in the forest after the rest of the Sky People had been forced off the planet. There’s not many of them; the ones who stayed were approved by the few loyal demons, and they are largely respectful of the native populations as they try to integrate as much as they are allowed. That does not mean that Tsu’tey trusts them, and it certainly doesn’t mean that he likes them.

“Yes,” The little man in front of him says, visibly nervous. He swallows thickly, his heavy breaths fogging up his odd little mask. “Yes, we tested all the fruit you brought, and they all came up safe for human consumption. A human digestive system wouldn’t be able to break down something like meat from Pandoran animals, but the fruits you brought should be fine. Chemically, it’s quite similar to fruits we have back on Earth-”

Tsu’tey just grunts. He does not care about Earth's fruits. All he wants to know is whether he can feed you some of the fruits that he has foraged, and now that he has gotten his answer he is not inclined to stand around and listen to the little man bumble along any longer.

Without another word he turns and strides away, reaching his pa’li and pulling himself astride her with ease before urging her forward into the forest. At a swift pace, he reaches the village in no time and from there he moves quickly to find you.

Unsurprisingly, he finds you beneath one of the pxiut trees. You have your notebook open in front of you as you lay on your belly making your silly little notes, totally absorbed in your work. As he approaches, he takes the opportunity to look you over.

You appear content, head bowed over your work as you write. The bright sunshine filters in through the trees overhead, sending dappled patterns over your exposed skin. Seeing your strange human form dressed in the traditional clothes of the Na’vi always sets Tsu’tey alight, and his tail swishes appreciatively as he admires you.

“Hello, demon,” He murmurs when he reaches you, lowering himself to his knees out of pure habit. It has become second-nature to lower himself to your level when he’s around you – he enjoys the closeness of it.

You hum. Though you don’t lift your eyes from your work, a smile is beginning to curve your lips. “Is that any way to greet your mate?”

Tsu’tey’s lips quirk in response, and he leans in so his nose is nuzzling into your hair. You lean into him in a move that’s mostly automatic, and he feels a flare of smug pleasure at the ease with which you melt against his side.

“My little demon,” He corrects himself with a sardonic little grin, enjoying the way you roll your eyes fondly. “I have brought you food. Will you eat?”

Your eyes dart to his immediately, visibly uncertain. He already knows what you’re thinking, and he tries not to wince.

“It is safe,” He says quickly. “I asked one of the tawtute. They did tests.”

Your expression changes then, your grin growing sharper. “Aw, look at you taking care of me, huh?”

He can tell by your tone of voice that you’re teasing him, but that doesn’t stop the swell of pride in his chest. Yes, he is taking care of you. It’s always gratifying when his efforts are noticed, and he tries not to look too smug as he reaches out to touch you.

You are laying on your belly with your notebook in front of you, so his hand comes to rest on the back of one of your thighs. You are so small beneath him, so soft and squishy compared to the lean hardness of most Na’vi bodies. He can’t resist squeezing just slightly, just to watch the squidge of your thighs poke out between his spread fingers.

You roll your eyes at him – you know exactly what he’s doing, after all. He has not been very successful at keeping his fascination with your little pliable body a secret, and why should he? You are his mate, and you belong to him as surely as he belongs to you. Getting to touch you like this is a privilege belonging only to him, and he wishes to get as much out of it as he can.

“I always take care of you.” He says, and your smile softens.

“Yeah, big guy, you do.” You say, and the fondness in your voice is so obvious that it makes Tsu’tey’s hardened heart tremble a little in his chest.

His hand slides up your plush thighs and comes to a rest over the swell of your backside, relishing the heat of your skin even through the tewng covering you. You’re even softer here, nothing but squidge, and he allows himself a moment to indulge in squeezing you here too as you laugh.

“Alright, pervert,” You snicker, closing your notebook and pushing yourself up. “You can’t just start feeling me up – we’re in public.”

Tsu’tey’s hand falls away as you move to stand, and he has to fight the urge to pout hard. “The People know that we are mated in the eyes of Eywa.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s okay to traumatise them all like this.” You snort. “I don’t think anyone wants to see you groping me in broad daylight.”

Many of the People have a sort of morbid curiosity about how mating with a tawtute works, so Tsu’tey isn’t entirely certain that you’re correct in that assumption. There are many who would be only too pleased to watch. But he doesn’t argue; you are beginning to push yourself to your feet, so he stands too.

“What is pervert?” He asks, looking down at you as you stretch your arms overhead and yawn.

Truthfully he gets distracted for a moment, admiring your soft belly and exposed skin in Na’vi clothes – if he could burn all your human coverings without you getting angry at him, he certainly would. He wants to see you dressed in the clothes of his People all the time.

You laugh as if he had said something very funny. “A pervert is what you are.”

“Is it a bad thing?” He wonders, reaching out so that his hand rests on the back of your neck across your shoulders.

Your eyes flutter closed as he kneads lightly at the base of your neck. “No,” You murmur softly. “Not when it’s you.”

He relaxes, nodding decisively before reaching for your small hand. “Come. You will eat and watch me train.”

It’s become almost like a routine for him to drag you with him to practice fighting or sparring. While you don’t come with him every day, he has managed to bring you often enough that the sight of you trailing behind him towards the training ground is a familiar one for the young warriors in training.

As he leads you towards the training grounds, he sees the few young warriors gathered around the archery practice range turn to watch his approach. Their eyes flicker towards you – though they never say anything about it, he knows that their curiosity is burning at the sight of you at Tsu’tey’s hip. The apprehension and caution about the Sky People is still very much embedded in their hearts and minds, and yet you are probably the least intimidating thing they’ve ever seen in their lives.

Tsu’tey imagines that his own interest and desire for you only fuels their curiosity further. He had gained somewhat of a reputation for himself before he had met you; he is the strongest warrior in the clan, he had been trained from a very young age for leadership, and he is a prominent and well-respected figure within the village. He was much desired as a mate by many women in the clan.

So when he chose you, the small and soft demon that is entirely unsuited to their planet, it was a source of surprise to many. Yet he is lucky – his people are supportive, even when they do not understand his choice of mate. Even if some of the women remain slightly disgruntled with him.

“You will sit over here,” He pushes you gently towards a clearing, out of the way of the other Na’vi that tower over you, to a spot where you will be safe. “You can see well, from here.”

It’s important that you have a good view, after all. He likes it when you watch him – it’s satisfying to give you a display of his physical strength and his skills, to remind you that he is a strong mate for you.

You just sit down where he’s directed you, and smile eagerly at him. He knows that you enjoy watching him too, and his tail swishes in anticipation. If you are pleased with what you see, it can only mean good things in store for him later.

“What are you up to today, then?” You ask, lounging back in the soft mossy ground against the stump of a tree.

“Spear training, and then hand to hand combat.” He says, reaching into the small bag around his waist. He pulls out the soft wrapped leaf package that he had prepared earlier and hands it to you. “Fruit. Eat.”

You take the wrapped fruit from him and peer at it with curiosity, poking at it with your small fingers. You seem pleased, and take a breath before lifting your mask so you can pop the fruit in your mouth before replacing it.

“It’s good,” You say, smiling, before tilting your head up at him with a faux-innocent expression. “So, do I get to see you all oiled up and wrestling some other super muscly man?”

That makes him chuckle, and he reaches out to stroke a single finger over the top of your head. “Would you like to see that?”

“Oh yeah,” You hum, and your grin behind your mask is unmistakably suggestive. “Definitely.”

His own grin grows sharp, and he bends on one knee so that he can be at eye-level with you. “I can oil myself up and show you wrestling later, after eclipse.”

That makes you laugh, tilting your head back with delight. “Oh, that’s so corny.”

He has no idea what that means, corny, but you look happy so it must be a good thing. He leans down and kisses the top of your head before straightening up. From behind, he can hear some of the younger warriors in training begin to call his name.

He gives you one last lingering look before turning and making his way towards the others.

Training takes the better half of the afternoon.

He demonstrates spear throwing techniques, he corrects postures and methods, he shouts criticisms and praises by turn. Every so often he glances towards you, mostly out of habit – you have pulled out your little book at some point, and are making notes again. Every single time, without fail, you look up as though you feel his eyes on you. And every time, you beam at him and his heart stumbles a little in his chest. Burying his reactions as best he can in front of his fellow warriors, the most Tsu’tey allows himself is the flick of a single ear.

When they finally do get to hand to hand training, he sees you visibly perk up and his ego inflates significantly. It is so very gratifying to be able to train and show off in front of you, especially when he successfully overcomes his opponents.

He can feel your watchful eyes on him all the time, pushing him harder and harder as he wrestles with warrior after warrior. The young ones in training watch on too, eager to learn, but the only gaze he truly cares about is yours.

Eventually, he takes a break from tumbling around the square that had been cleared off specifically for training and steps to the side so that he can observe some of the young ones in training practice their form. While he attempts to focus on calling out constructive criticism, he can’t stop his eyes from darting towards you occasionally.

Though your notebook is splayed out front of you, you are making no effort at all to hide the fact that you’re watching him. His chest is heaving and a thin layer of sweat coats his body, and he can feel the weight of your stare dropping slowly over the length of him. It makes him feel hot and itchy, and he has to fight to keep himself from marching right over to you and doing something very stupid indeed.

He is so distracted by your stare that he almost doesn’t notice when one of the other warriors sidles up to him. It is Takuk, and he is watching him with an amused sort of expression.

“Brother,” He greets him, offering the customary gesture of respect. “You are distracted today.”

His statement is nothing but the truth, but Tsu’tey bristles anyway. Takuk had been a hunter trainee not too long ago himself, but has developed into a man in the last year; he has claimed an ikran, he wears a battle band around his waist, but he has not yet taken a mate. Tsu’tey dislikes the way he is looking at you, considering you are already claimed.

“I am not distracted.” Tsu’tey lies through his teeth. His tone is sharp enough that he hopes it will dissuade Takuk from this line of conversation.

Takuk just hums, clearly unconvinced. He has grown irritatingly confident since his iknimaya. He looks over to where you’re sitting; you’ve lowered your head once more to scribble in your book, and Takuk takes the opportunity to squint at you.

“What is it like, being with one of them?” He asks, casting a slant-eyed glance back at Tsu’tey. “Is she not too… small?”

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes around his ankles, though he keeps his expression carefully contained. He is proud to be mated to you, but he does not like questions like this. He does not like to think that Takuk is imagining you like that.

“She is small,” He acknowledges, his voice clipped. “But not too small.”

It is enough to answer his question without giving him details, but Takuk grins as though what he has said is much more revealing than it truly is. When he looks back over in your direction again, Tsu’tey tenses.

Takuk notices, and sighs. “Brother, I am only asking. We are curious about your mate. You are so protective of her.”

Tsu’tey rolls his shoulders, considering. This is not untrue. The curiosity of his people is blatant, and mostly harmless; perhaps he has been too protective, but he has always been a private man.

“It works.” He says at last. It feels a little as though the words are being pulled from him by force. “She is small, and strange, but it works.”

Takuk’s ears twitch forwards in amusement, but he wisely decides not to make a smart comment.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu?” He wonders, low and quiet.

Ah. So that is the source of all their curiosity. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that. It is a most unusual relationship he has with you, after all. Tsaheylu is the building block of all life on Pandora, and it is how every living creature interacts with the world around them. To have taken a mate that is unable to make this bond would be almost unthinkable to many Na’vi. Tsu’tey supposes he cannot blame them for that morbid curiosity – it would have been unthinkable for him once, too.

“Even though she cannot make tsaheylu.” Tsu’tey confirms quietly. “She sees me anyway.”

Takuk is thoughtfully silent at that, which Tsu’tey is mercifully grateful for. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes, and he ends up clearing his throat and straightening his shoulders in an attempt to regain some of his authority.

“Back to training.” He says firmly, reaching out to push at Takuk’s head. “No more making eyes at my mate.”

Takuk just laughs, his ears twitching with good humour. “It is not me you need to tell, brother,” He says, before tilting his head pointedly in your direction. “It is the trainees that are so curious about her.”

Tsu’tey follows his gaze. Sure enough, you are no longer alone in your spot at the side of the training grounds. Several of the hunter trainees are crouched near you, watching you with big curious eyes as you chat to one of the young Na’vi that has been bold enough to creep forward. It is At’u, one of the foremost young men in training.

Tsu’tey’s ears flatten when he sees the way At’u’s tail is coiling. It is the universal signal of interest among their kind, and the audacity of the younglings infuriate him.

Without waiting another moment, Tsu’tey strides your way. He can hear Takuk starting to laugh from behind him, but he ignores him; he is precision-focused on you and the jumped up little shits around you.

When At’u reaches out to touch the hair on your head, Tsu’tey’s vision goes black around the edges. Anger bubbles up in his chest; curiosity is one thing, but having the insolence to touch you right in front of Tsu’tey’s eyes is another thing.

When Tsu’tey reaches you, you look up at him with a smile. He doesn’t return it; he’s too busy levelling a dark glare At’u’s way, his ears flat and tail held low. The youngling’s tail coils low in response, but he does not move away from you.

Tsu’tey hisses at him, baring his sharp teeth as he rounds on the rest of the trainees. They scatter almost instantly, scrambling to flee back to the training area. At’u flees too, flinching hard before following after his friends.

“Tsu’tey!” You hiss at him, visibly horrified. “That was so rude! They were only curious-”

He’s still glaring at the backs of the young trainees as he crouches down in front of you, but after a moment he turns to look at you. Your brows are scrunched, your eyes flared a little in outrage as you scowl at him. Oh, you look angry with him. It’s more adorable than you probably mean it to be.

“They do not know their place.” He mutters, scooching a little closer to you.

“They’re children!” You protest, rolling your eyes.

“They are training to be hunters and warriors.” Tsu’tey grumbles. As cute as you are when you’re angry, he doesn’t like being on the receiving end of it. “They know what they’re doing. They will be eligible to pick a mate after iknimaya.”

That makes you pause, and your eyes flicker carefully over his face.

“Are you…” You begin slowly. “Are you jealous? They’re going to pick Na’vi mates. Besides, I already have a mate.”

Warm satisfaction pools in his chest, and he scooches closer to you yet again. Something deep within him eases now that you’re within arms reach.

“Did you not see the way they were twitching their ears at you?” He murmurs, brow furrowing. You hesitate, and his tail lashes in agitation. “I knew it! You do not even see how they act-”

“Oh, hush,” You sigh, reaching out to pet the side of his face. “You’re being silly. Why would I want anyone else when I have a big handsome beefcake like you, huh?”

Tsu’tey has no idea what beefcake is, but you sound pleased when you say it so he imagines it is a good thing.

Your thumb strokes over his cheek, and then you frown and reach out to wipe under his nose. “You’re bleeding.”

He had received an elbow to the face at some point during hand to hand combat, but it feels only mildly tender now. Still though, when you begin smoothing away the blood with your thumb he leans into your hands. It feels good to be cared for.

“Does it hurt?” You wonder, peering closer as you try to assess the damage.

“No,” Tsu’tey snorts, a little offended. How weak do you think he is? But then you start to pull away, taking your little hands away from his face, and he’s quick to add, “A little. Will you care for me later?”

That makes you laugh, and his ears wiggle smugly when you lean forward to bump your forehead against his.

“Yes,” You whisper, grinning up at him. “I’ll take real good care of you.”

His tail thumps off the ground, his mouth beginning to curl in an eager smile. Your eyes are lingering around his sweat-slick chest and your thumb strokes over his bloodied nose, gentle over his bruised skin. He fights the urge to lean in further into your grasp, though it’s difficult.

“You watched me train?”

You huff a soft laugh. “Of course. Couldn’t tear my eyes away. You looked good, big guy.”

Tsu’tey swears he feels his whole heart thump heavily in his chest. There is a bone-deep satisfaction that settles over him at the confirmation that you see him as someone worthy, a good mate. It soothes the edges of his jagged pride and makes him feel whole.

“I am happy to have pleased you,” He murmurs sincerely, tucking his ears low as he meets your eyes. Your eyes soften, and you brush the last remnants of blood from his nose before taking your hand back. “Would you like to watch further?”

You hum in thought for a moment, before shrugging. “I think I’ll head back to the kelku. I wanted to cross-check some notes I took today with my other research.”

Tsu’tey has never been able to make much sense of your science talk, but he inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Then I will meet you back at home, ma’yawntutsyìp.”

For the rest of the afternoon, Tsu’tey’s feels as though he’s crawling out of his skin. He runs through the rest of his duties on autopilot, offering criticism and compliments by turns to the young warriors and hunters throughout the day, but his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of you the whole time.

It’s a struggle to stay focused. He keeps thinking of your eyes tracing over his chest and stomach, of your soft hands on his face, of your coy promise to take care of him later. It feels almost physically painful to force himself to finish out training with the others, but he pushes himself anyway.

It’s nearing evening when he finally begins to finish up, delivering his last few instructions to the young hunters as they begin to ready themselves to return to the village. He’s antsy, watching impatiently as the young ones push and laugh at each other.

When Takuk approaches him again, he has to fight not to roll his eyes – he has picked up too many of your little human mannerisms already.

“Your aim has improved.” Tsu’tey grunts, preoccupied with slinging his bow back over his shoulder.

Takuk perks up, visibly pleased with the compliment. He inclines his head in thanks, before leaning his weight casually back on one leg as he watches Tsu’tey pack up. He’s no doubt noticing that he’s moving with an unusual sense of urgency.

“Your mate is waiting for you, hm?” He asks, his mouth twitching.

Tsu’tey’s tail lashes in warning. He doesn’t like Takuk’s teasing tone, but he can’t help the anticipation that’s building in his stomach at the thought of getting back to you after your teasing throughout the day.

“Yes,” Tsu’tey grunts. “I will bring her fruit.”

Takuk nods, clearly approving, before looking to his feet. He appears to be thinking, and Tsu’tey waits as patiently as he can for him to speak again.

“I am thinking of taking a mate soon,” The young warrior says at last, still keeping his gaze low. “Do.. Do you think that Kaey’ra would have me?”

Tsu’tey pauses to give his question some thought. “Yes. I think she would. It would be a good match.”

Takuk’s shoulders loosen, and his ears rotate forward in satisfaction. It is a confidence booster for Tsu’tey too – it is nice to have his opinion so valued by one of his past students, now a peer. He is happy for his friend, and Tsu’tey claps him on the shoulder.

“I must plan a courting display,” Takuk murmurs, his brow lowering thoughtfully. “I will-”

He cuts himself off, staring somewhere behind Tsu’tey’s shoulder. Frowning, Tsu’tey turns to follow his gaze only to be met with the sight of one of the young warriors approaching him with his tail tucked low between his legs.

“Ma’Tsu’tey,” He greets, his ears flattened anxiously against his head. “I am sorry-”

“What.” Tsu’tey interrupts, his eyes narrowing. The sight of the youngling all twisted and anxious leaves a bad feeling settling into his stomach. “What is it?”

The youngling looks as though he would rather be anywhere else other than right there. “It’s just.. Your mate is-”

Tsu’tey’s stomach plummets to his feet, and he takes a step forward. His teeth bare without conscious thought. “Where is she?”

The young hunter flinches, but to his credit he doesn’t step back. “She is with tsahìk-”

It feels as though Tsu’tey’s brain has been filled with static panic. He’s hardly aware of turning away from the warriors and racing away, his feet pounding hard against the ground as he shoulders his way past the young trainees that are still lingering around the training area.

The only reason for you to be with Mo’at is that you are injured, and the thought fills Tsu’tey with a bone-deep, nauseating fear. He was only apart from you for a few hours at most – how could you have gotten hurt in such a short space of time? He thinks of your fragile bones, your thin skin, your diminutive stature; he knows that the answer is all too easily.

He can’t help himself from conjuring up worst-case scenarios – he imagines you broken and bleeding, unconscious, crying from pain, calling for him when he’s too far away to hear you. He feels sick as he reaches the village, making a beeline for the tsahìk’s hut.

“Move,” He snarls at someone who walks across his path. He’s blind with panic, hardly even sees who he’s snarling at. They jump out of his way as he storms past, practically diving his way towards the tsahìk’s home.

Usually, Tsu’tey prides himself on his grace and agility. He has always been the best warrior in the clan, and one of the most decorated hunters – his training has left him swift and dextrous. And yet now he finds himself stumbling, acting like a fear-stricken fool as he ducks his way into the hut.

Mo’at doesn’t even glance up at his unceremonious entrance, though you do. You’re perched carefully in the corner, with the tsahìk hunched over you as she carefully wraps your forearm with plant-fibre bandages. The whole space smells like the medicinal herbs used for healing – he guesses that she’s spread healing paste over you.

Something loosens in his chest at the sight of you unbloodied and conscious, though he doesn’t relax just yet.

“Oh, shit.” You sigh when you see him, before offering him a weak little smile.

“What has happened?” He demands, ducking his way under the dried herbs hanging from the woven ceiling as he makes his way towards you.

Mo’at still doesn’t look away from her work. “Where are your manners, Tsu’tey?”

Her tone is sharp enough to chasten him, but he does not relent completely. He comes to a stop over Mo’at’s shoulder and attempts to lean over her in an attempt to see what she’s doing, his tail whipping anxiously around his feet.

When he spots your arm, he makes a wounded sort of noise. Your wrist is all swollen, and if he looks closely he can see the beginning of discolouration around the joint as it begins to bruise. He ends up dropping to his knees beside you. In his haste, he almost pushes Mo’at aside, oblivious to the sharp look she sends his way.

“What happened, ma’muntxate?” He demands, reaching out to take your wrist in his hand so he can get a better look.

Mo’at knocks his hand away with a resounding slap before hissing a sharp warning at him. “Do not touch while I am bandaging!”

“Is it broken?” He asks, whirling to face the tsahìk. His tail curls around your thigh, squeezing tight as he seeks reassurance in the form of your soft, warm flesh.

“It’s fine-” You start to say, but Tsu’tey isn’t listening to your attempts at placating him.

“It is a sprain.” Mo’at says. Her tone implies that she is sick of dealing with him already, but he pays her no mind.

“How did this happen?” He asks yet again, shuffling forward on his knees so that the bulk of his body is curling around you. There is no danger here in Mo’at’s tent, but it makes him feel better when he hunches protectively around you.

“It’s no big deal,” You say quickly, clearly attempting damage control. “I just- I fell, and I landed a little awkwardly-”

“Fell where?”

That makes you pause, and Tsu’tey’s expression flattens as he waits for your answer.

“Um.. The ladder,” You murmur, glancing down at your lap. “The ladder that leads to the kelku. I slipped climbing up it, and fell. But it wasn’t from very high.”

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he feels his stomach sink even further at that. Fuck, it was his fault. The vine ladder he had woven for you was only meant to be a temporary measure to help you climb up into your shared kelku in the high trees until he could get around to building a more permanent solution. He had considered the possibility of you falling, but never seriously – not even children would fall so easily.

He must look stricken somehow, because your own face begins to contort in response.

“It was my fault,” You say hurriedly. “I wasn’t paying proper attention, and I slipped. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

He lets out a soft, low sound, before shaking his head. His jaw is clenched tight. What a stupid mistake for him to make. His tiny soft mate, so frail and weak. He should have known that the ladder was too risky for you to be climbing up and down. Only a sprain; he is so lucky that it was only a sprain. What would he have done if it was something worse?

Mo’at clicks her tongue, then sits back and surveys her handiwork. It’s as neat and meticulous as ever, the bandages wrapped tight around your injured wrist.

“There,” Mo’at says simply. “Rest it. It will be just fine in a few days.”

Tsu’tey hardly hears her at all. He’s too busy staring at the bandages, pale green against your bruised skin. This should never have happened. He’s meant to protect you, to keep you safe. That’s what he had promised you. What kind of mate is he, if he can’t even provide a safe way for you to enter the home he had offered you?

He’s pulled out of his cycle of self-flagellation by Mo’at swatting ungently at his head.

“Take your mate and leave,” She says, shooting him an unimpressed look. “No sulking. Just watch after her.”

“Yes, tsahìk.” He says quietly, inclining his head towards her out of respect.

When he turns back to you, you’re already watching him with big, guilty eyes. That only makes him feel worse – why should you feel guilty, when it is him that has failed you?

“Come, ma’yawne,” He murmurs, reaching out to hold you. “I will take you home.”

You open your mouth, no doubt to be stubborn and protest that you can walk yourself, or some other such nonsense, but he doesn’t wait to give you the chance. He just tucks his arms under your back and legs and hauls you up into his arms, holding you close to his chest as he stands.

With one last murmured thanks to Mo’at, he carries you right out of the hut and back into the evening light.

Tsu’tey is willing to admit that over the next few days, he is a little more… vigilant than usual.

“Tsu’tey, seriously,” You complain. “It’s a sprained wrist, it’s nothing!”

He doesn’t justify that with a response. Your injury is not nothing. It is a representation of his failure as a mate, and it hurts his pride to look at the bandages for too long. All he can do is commit himself to ensuring that something like this never happens again.

He brings you food and water in bed, he offers you gifts of books and the silly little glowing pads he manages to bully out of the tawtute in the human science encampment, and he makes sure the kelku is more cushioned and comfortable than ever before. His aim is to make sure that you have everything you need right there in your home, so that you won’t have to leave again – at least, not until he has finished safe-guarding the sloping rope bridge he is attempting to build for you.

Even now, your legs dangle from the edge of the kelku’s entrance as you watch him work on the wide branch below. You’re secure where you are, your hands holding tight to the edge of the tree branch that your legs hang from, but Tsu’tey keeps stealing looks up at you every couple of moments to ensure that you’re still there.

Around the twentieth time he glances up at you, you roll your eyes and meet his gaze with a challenging stare.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” You ask, swinging your legs in the air. “It’s a nice day, and I haven’t been out in ages.”

Tsu’tey grunts, but doesn’t answer properly. His tail curls as he weaves another section of his makeshift rope bridge; it will be narrow and a little precarious, but he is certain it will be a better solution than the ladder you had fallen from.

From above, you click your tongue in dissatisfaction. “I know what you’re doing.”

He slants a glance up at you, lips pursed. Once again, he says nothing. Knowing you, you’re not finished speaking yet anyway.

Sure enough, his silence only seems to irritate you.

“I’m not staying up here forever, you know.” You say insistently, and Tsu’tey tenses when you lean forward to get a better look at him as he works on the branch below you. “I know you’re angry at me for getting hurt, but it’s only a sprained wrist and it’s not like-”

“I am not angry.” Tsu’tey interrupts, though he can’t manage to meet your eyes. His ears are pinned to the sides of his head; is that really what you think?

You let out a clearly frustrated noise. “You’ve hardly spoken to me for days. All you do is work on this stupid bridge-”

He finally looks up at that, lip curling in annoyance as he squints up to you. The rope bridge is admittedly rudimentary, but it’s for you. It’s true that he hasn’t been as demonstrative with his affections as usual for the past couple of days, but you’ve been injured. He couldn’t even think of touching you when you’re hurt – the remnants of bruising around your wrist makes him feel that sense of failure every time he catches sight of them.

When he fails to verbally respond yet again, you scowl at him. “Are you just not going to talk to me?”

At that, he sighs. “What do you want me to say?”

You set your jaw and glare for a second, before promptly shoving yourself to your feet. Tsu’tey tenses once more as you stand, so nerve-wrackingly close to the edge of the kelku, before you turn on your heel and march back inside.

Once you’re gone, Tsu’tey allows his shoulders to drop. Damn. He probably could have handled that better – communication has never been his strong suit. He’s never really felt the compulsion to explain himself or his thinking to anyone before, and now he finds himself at a loss for how to approach his feelings with you.

You think that he’s angry with you, which is absolutely untrue. Are you angry with him? Fuck.

Sighing, he finishes one last knot in the rope he was working on before dropping it. He needs to sort this out.

It only takes one jump for him to catch the edge of the kelku with his hands, and then he hauls himself up with ease. Part of the reason that he had been so startled when he realised you had been injured climbing the tree was because it was something that should have been so easy, something that just came naturally to the Omaticaya. It hadn’t occurred to him that it might have been possible for you to fall so easily.

When he steps inside the kelku, he spots your little form curled up on the woven rug atop the cushy leaves he had padded the wooden floor with. You’re holding one of the glowing pad things that the tawtute are always tapping away on, although you don’t appear to be reading anything off it – it seems more like you’re simply staring fixedly at it in an effort to avoid meeting his stare.

He moves slowly towards you, tail held low in as non-threatening a manner as he can manage. You don’t look up, though he can see the way your eyes slide subtly toward him. When he kneels down by your side, you’re forced to raise your gaze towards him.

“I do not mean to upset you, Säsrätx,” He murmurs, his voice low as he bends his head towards you. He does not want you to be angry with him – the thought curdles in his stomach.

You take a slow inhale through your nose, the breath fogging lightly against the clear material of your breathing mask before dissipating.

“I’m not made of glass, big guy,” You mumble, glancing back down at your hands. “You can’t treat me like a kid just because I got a minor injury.”

Tsu’tey makes a soft grumbling noise in the back of his throat, but doesn’t argue. You’ve never been annoyed at him like this, and he’s surprised by how much he doesn’t like it. He’s never been one to put too much stock in the opinion of others, but this is different. You are his mate, and he doesn’t want to make anything worse.

He adjusts his stance so that he’s crouched at your side, his much bigger body curling over yours as he looms over you. You’re just so small, it makes his palms itch. He hasn’t touched you properly in days, so afraid that he’ll make your injuries worse, but now he’s finding it difficult to keep his hands to himself.

You must be thinking the same thing, because your gaze drifts from his face down over his shoulders and chest, lingering around his woven necklaces and his battle waistband. Tsu’tey preens a little under your eyes, his chest puffing out a little.

“You should not have been hurt like this,” He murmurs, reaching out for your hand. “The kelku should have been safe for you. This was my fault.”

You just sigh, and shake your head. “Don’t be stupid. It was an accident. These things happen.”

Tsu’tey grunts unhappily. He’s too busy peering carefully at your wrist; your wrist and hand look so fragile in his much larger palm, and his lips press together tight as he strokes a careful thumb over the lingering discolouration on your skin. The bruises are almost gone, but he can still see the faint traces remaining.

“I have waited a long time to take a mate and have a family of my own,” He murmurs without looking up at your face. He tilts his head, a wry sort of smirk beginning to grow on his face. “I did not expect it would be with a tawtute, but I would not change things. I have lost too much over the years – I could not take it if something happened to you.”

Your expression wobbles, and then you toss your little piece of technology aside and push yourself up to your knees.

“Tsu’tey,” You whisper, eyes turning soft. “It was only a sprained wrist.”

His tail lashes, but he ducks his head down towards you so that you can cup his face in your little palms. Some of the restlessness in his chest begins to settle now that he has your hands holding his cheeks.

“I do not want you to think less of me as a mate.” He says quietly, reaching up to lay his palm flat over one of your hands on his cheek. “I should have ensured you had a safe way of entering our kelku-”

“Less of you?” You interrupt, choking out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I thought that you would think I was a total skxawng for falling like that. I had literally been promising you earlier that day that I would look after you, and then I ended up hurt like an idiot.”

Tsu’tey just makes a soft, rumbly noise in his chest in an effort to soothe you. To his relief it seems to work, and you relax into his chest.

“You can take care of me when you are better.” He says, his lips pulling up into a little smirk. It is something he looks forward to.

You hum, tilting your head back so you can look him in the eye with a coy grin. “I’m better now, big guy.”

Tsu’tey starts to snort, to pull back with an eyeroll, but to his surprise you continue grasping at his hand. When he blinks at you, he finds you staring up at him with a determined sort of look about you.

“I mean it,” You whisper, eyes all liquid and pleading. “My arm is fine, Mo’at said so. You haven’t touched me in days.”

Tsu’tey pauses at that. He looks at you properly; behind your breathing mask, your eyelashes are longer and darker than usual, and your lips are glossier. He recognises the traces of what you call makeup, and his ears twitch backwards in surprise. He knows that you wear this when you’re trying to catch his attention, and a little jolt of realisation rockets through him as he looks at you.

“Oh,” He breathes, reaching out to capture your jaw in one hand. “I see. My little mate feels neglected, is that it?”

Your cheeks grow hot in his hand, your eyes flickering away in an attempt to avoid eye contact. Despite your plea for him to touch you, now you appear flustered.

“Yes.” You whine, tilting your head into his hand. Despite your embarrassment, you manage to appear semi-confident when you finally raise your chin to look at him. “I want you to touch me.”

The edge of your breathing mask digs into his palm, and he starts to grin as he winds his long fingers into your hair. Oh, that soothes his wounded pride. Despite his mistake with the ladder, you still want him.

He ducks his head and presses a kiss to your neck, humming in satisfaction when you tilt your head back immediately to allow him access to your throat. Tsu’tey lets out a soft breath, and reaches for your waist so he can pull you into his lap. You go eagerly, clambering onto his thighs with a grin. You’re just so pliable, so trusting and needy. As soon as you’re settled in his lap, you start to grind yourself down against the growing stiffness beneath his tewng.

He lets out a quiet, surprised little huff. You really do want him to touch you, and your eagerness rushes straight to his head. He really has been neglecting you if you’re reacting like this just from a simple little neck kiss.

“I will make you feel good, ma’yawntutsyìp.” He promises – he is determined to make up for the last few days of distance between you, and he wants so desperately to taste you.

But when he begins to kiss his way down your chest, your belly, towards your thighs, your fingers weave into the roots of his hair and you tug lightly to stop him.

“As nice as your mouth would be,” You breathe, your mouth curving into a grin. “I said I’d make you feel good, didn’t I?”

His ears twitch, and he tilts his head as he eyes you carefully. You look earnest, but he’s not sure if he understands. You do not want him to use his mouth on you? Why not?

When he doesn’t make any immediate moves, you appear to take initiative yourself. You reach out to take his hand in your much smaller one, and pull it down beneath the hem of the little tewng that had been specially made for you. When his fingers make contact with the wet heat of your cunt, he goes stock still.

“You…” He starts, his brow furrowing as his fingers slide along the slickness between your legs.

He dips one finger inside, awed by how easily it slips in. It seems like you’re already all stretched out, far wetter than natural – he recognises the texture of the tawtute-made liquid you used on occasion to make the size of him easier to take. Lube, you call it. He slips another finger in, and you moan softly at the slide of it.

“You are ready.” Tsu’tey rumbles in surprise, his fingers twitching inside you.

“I’ve been ready for days,” You complain, dropping your head against his shoulder as you move your hips, attempting to get his fingers working deeper. “Waiting for you to get over your stupid worry and just fuck me.”

That just about sends him over the edge entirely. You had prepared yourself for him just to save time with stretching? The thought of you walking around the kelku for days, all sloppy and dripping down your legs as you wait for him to emerge from his brooding mood and please you sends his thoughts scattering. Fuck. How could he have been so preoccupied with his stupid rope bridge when you were sitting waiting for him to pay attention to you?

“I will fuck you,” He breathes, nuzzling at your jaw eagerly. The human term is harsh on his tongue, but he enjoys the coarseness of it.

“Don’t be gentle.” You blurt, still writhing against the bulge beneath his tewng and sending zings of pleasure shooting up his spine. “Fuck me like you mean it. I won’t break.”

Tsu’tey lets out a soft hiss. Well. What kind of a man would he be if he did not obey his little mate’s orders?

Though you have been making demands, it still seems to surprise you when he launches into movement. He grips your hips and flips you around – it’s a quick movement, and it takes you a moment to regain your bearings when you find yourself on your hands and knees on the soft leaves he’s padded the kelku’s bouncy floor with.

“Fuck, yes.” You breathe, guessing where he’s going with this immediately. You arch your back, pushing your ass back eagerly into his hands as he unties your tewng and tosses it aside.

Tsu’tey bears his teeth in a grin, lowering his face to lay a hot, biting kiss between your shoulderblades.

“Needy girl,” He rumbles, groping at your ass as his thumbs roll around your puffy, slick pussy and pull you apart so that he can admire the sticky strands of arousal that drip from you. “You are so swollen here. My poor, neglected little mate. I will make this up to you.”

When brushes his fingers through the puffy lips of your cunt and then pushes inside, you can't quite stifle the whine that escapes you. It drives him crazy. You’re still squirming even on your hands and knees beneath him, and Tsu’tey hunches over you so he can plaster his big chest over your back.

His erection presses thick and heavy against your ass. He grinds into you at the same time as he reaches around and rubs quick, tight circles into your clit. You practically choke, alternating between pushing back into his erection which is laid flushed and hot between your thighs, and pushing forward into his hand, which is still toying with your pussy.

“Come on then, big guy,” You say, your voice wavering slightly as he rubs at your clit. “Stop telling me how good you can fuck me and actually do it.”

That makes Tsu’tey snicker into the hot skin of your neck. Oh, how he can’t wait to fulfill the orders of his bossy little mate.

Grinning, he reaches out and places a hand on the back of your neck before exerting gentle pressure to push you down onto the padded floor. You go willingly, until you’re face down and ass up in a position that has Tsu’tey’s mouth watering. He can smell your arousal, so sweet and dizzying as you lay exposed and waiting for him.

You crane your neck around so that you can see him as he eyes your arched back and exposed behind eagerly. You look flustered, but your eyes are still challenging as you watch him and wait for his next move.

“So impatient, ma’tawtute,” He rumbles, amused.

He smooths a hand over your waist and down over your hip and ass. A quick, open-palmed smack is delivered to the soft, squishy flesh of your ass, and you rock forward with a choked gasp. He was careful to control the pressure he used, but even still the hint of force makes your soft cunt flutter around nothing.

“Come on, big guy,” You gasp, laying your cheek flat against the padded floor as you push your ass back towards him eagerly. “Come on, come on-”

With you all spread out and wet and begging beneath him, his self-control crumbles. He tears off his tewng and grabs at his cock, stroking it with a growled rumble before rubbing the sensitive tip against the slick folds of your cunt.

You’re gasping already, before he even begins to press inside, and he can’t help but feel impossibly endeared by your stubborn nature. Look at you – so determined and eager to take him.

When he does begin to push inside, you drop your head down to the padded floor and moan, clearly just short of overwhelmed. You’re so tight, Tsu’tey swears he nearly blacks out. He pushes in slowly, his front plastered to your little back as one of his arms reaches under your stomach to support you. The two of you are breathing heavily; you from the struggle of accepting his size inside you, and him from the vice-like grip of your cunt.

“Breathe and relax, my small mate,” He grunts, squeezing his eyes tight as he nuzzles into your shoulder. “You are taking me so well.”

You do as he says unthinkingly, gasping a breath and forcing yourself to relax as he presses inside of you inch by excruciating inch. You can't seem to decide if you want him to hurry up and get it over with or go slow and gentle, and you keep alternating between twitching back on his cock and flinching away from it. Tsu’tey, however, is careful to keep a very medium pace; he pushes evenly and steadily until he's seated inside of you, hunched over your back, and then pauses to let you adjust.

As you tremble, face pressed into the floor as your pussy flutters frantically around his cock, Tsu’tey presses soft, insistent kisses all around your back and shoulders. It feels as though you’re trying to squeeze his cock right off, and he grunts a moan into the soft flesh of your bare back as you finally begin to ease up around him.

Then, finally, he begins to move.

"Fuck!" You gasp, squirming a little as he starts up at a steady pace.

When his hands come down to grip your hips and keep you in place, you grab at the leaf-padded floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as the thrusting of his hips rocks your whole body forward.

He's barely started fucking you at all, but Tsu’tey’s thoughts are already scattered and his body feels like it's close to overheating already. There’s something about seeing you so hungry for him that sends him wild – he’s never taken you from behind before, but the view of your ass stuck up in the air as your cunt sucks him so greedily makes his head spin.

"You feel so good," Tsu’tey murmurs into the side of your throat before biting at it, "So tight around me. Oh, fuck, that's it."

Each thrust pushes you further up the floor, until you’re forced to stop grabbing at the leaf-padding and instead to reach behind you and grab at one of his hands. He takes your hand eagerly, wrapping your odd little five-fingered hand in his own four-fingered one and pinning it to the floor as his other hand uses your hip to pull you back into him. You moan quite happily as you bury your face into the leaf-padding as he fucks you into the floor.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts as best you can, and he bares his teeth at the sight beneath him. You’re just adorable – you glance over your shoulder and smile dazedly as you tighten up around him. He makes a soft sound of pleasure and wraps his arm firmly around your stomach to keep you close to him.

“Come on, ma’yawne,” He rumbles, nipping lightly at the juncture of your bare shoulder as you shudder beneath him. “Talk to me.”

You manage an embarrassingly breathless little moan in response, and Tsu’tey snorts a wild sort of laugh. It feels a little as though he's coming apart at the seams. Tsu’tey is big, a fact which is apparently emphasised even further in this position, and it's overwhelming but it's so good — you feel so delightfully perfect, all wrapped around him like a vice as he fills you up.

He must be hitting a spot inside you that makes your legs go weak, because your jaw is slack and you keep making senseless little gasping sounds as you go limp as he fucks into you. It’s so sweet that he thinks momentarily about relenting, but you had asked for this. You did not want him to be gentle, not tonight.

"I didn't hear you." He says, a warning in his voice. His fingers weave into the roots of your hair and fist at the base of your skull, before he pulls your head back so that your face is no longer buried in the floor. “I want to hear you talk to me, my girl.”

"Oh, fucking goddamn shit-" You manage to choke out. His hand pulling your hair has somehow caused you to go semi-boneless as he fucks into you.

He picks up his pace, his hips rolling into yours so that your breath is catching in your chest and your eyes are rolling wildly. When his hand slips under you to start playing with your clit, you make a soft, broken-sounding moan and throw your head back eagerly.

Tsu’tey is so close to coming that his head is actually swimming, his thoughts slow as molasses as every nerve and synapse tunes into you beneath him so that the only thing he can actually focus on is the feel of you gasping and writhing below. He has always taken mating with you seriously, but right now it feels as though his only purpose is touching and stroking and fucking you so good that you forget everything other than him.

“Oh god,” You wheeze, your little hand squeezing tight around his fingers as his other hand uses his grip on your hips to pull you back into his thrusts. “Oh god, oh god, oh god-”

He recognises that frantic edge to your voice, and he bares his teeth in pleasure as he realises just how close you are to coming. His balls slap against your clit with every thrust, and he can feel the way they begin to tighten and draw up as his thrusts get faster. He’s close himself, his teeth practically buzzing with his oncoming orgasm, but he clenches his jaw as he attempts to hold it off. He wants so desperately to come inside you, but only after he’s experienced you creaming and squealing around his cock.

He adjusts his angle just slightly, but it's enough to have you dropping bonelessly back to the floor as you gasp.

"Fuck, there, don't stop!"

He snickers, though it trails off into a winded sort of snarl. His bossy, demanding little demon of a mate. Your orders only make his cock harder, and he lets out a whole body rumble as he feels his cock start to pulse inside your soft, wet, tight insides. He needs you to come now, before he completely loses his mind.

“Come, ma’yawntutsyìp, my precious one,” He grunts, leaving nipping kisses along the length of your spine. “I want to feel your release around me.”

The combination of his cock rubbing and grinding against the soft spongey part inside of you and the messy stimulation of your clit has your legs trembling and pussy quivering wildly. It feels like you’re being strung tighter and tighter under him as your orgasm draws closer and your breath begins coming in rapid pants.

You just manage to get out the words "Oh, yes-!" before the pleasure growing in your belly seems to crest and your back bows as you start to cum. All of the pressure that's been building up in your body is set free with the sweetest release, made all the sweeter by the fact that Tsu’tey keeps rocking into you the whole way through, the heavy head of his cock grinding hard against your G-spot the whole time.

Your eyes roll back and your mouth drops open as your orgasm rocks through you, and Tsu’tey watches with wide eyes and avid interest as your entire little body shudders and shakes beneath him.

“Yes,” He breathes, his whole face contorting in toe-curling pleasure as your cunt clenches and ripples around him. “Yes, my love, so good.”

Your orgasm seems to last forever, leaving your chest heaving and back glittering with sweat, but eventually you reach back and slap at his thigh.

“Turn me around,” You wheeze, sounding winded. “Keep going, I want you to come in me-”

Fuck, how he loves it when you make demands. He doesn’t even wait for you to finish speaking before he pulls out, gripping your hips and flipping you around so that you’re on your back. He pushes back in immediately, snarling out a desperate groan as his cock splits you open all over again, you wrapping him up all snug and tight inside.

One of his hands snakes under your back and curls around your waist to pull you up against him as he pounds into you. With the other arm, he's balanced himself on his forearm beside your head for leverage as he drives into you hard and fast. He is still conscious of your limits, of your soft and fragile little human body, but his head is reeling from the sheer sensation and from the squealing little moans that are escaping your mouth. He’s still careful not to hurt you, but he’s also rolling his hips into your more frantically than he’s ever done before.

When you hike your little legs up over Tsu’tey’s narrow hips and squeeze tight around him, he lets out a rather wrecked, desperate sounding whimper. He drops his head to your chest, shoving the woven chest covering out of the way so that he can suck one of your tits into his mouth, sloppily rolling your nipple around on his tongue and clutching at your ass with one hand when you arch into him.

“Oh, fuck,” You gasp, arching your back so that your breasts are pushed further into his face. Your voice is hoarse — you sound absolutely wrecked. “Oh god, yes, please-”

He's hovering right on the precipice of orgasm — it's obvious by his desperate open-mouthed panting, the way he hunches over as his thrusting starts to turn clumsy, and the way he's messily sucking at your tits.

What really pushes him over the edge, to his honest surprise, is when you moan out, “Fuck, I.. Tsu’tey, I really love you-”

Tsu’tey lets out a choked, desperate groan before dropping his forehead to your breastbone as he comes inside of you. It’s like a wave of white rushes through his mind, wiping everything clean inside his head as he strains desperately against you. The motion of his hips stutters and falters as his brow pinches, and he lets out a long, low moan as he grasps at you, his eyes squeezing shut tight as he feels his cum flood your cunt and overflow, dribbling down your ass.

"Oh." He groans, shivering as his elbows give out and he drops down on top of you so that you’re plastered together from head to toe. He tucks his face into your neck and kisses under your ear, enjoying the heat from your overworked, sweaty bodies while also being hyper-conscious of crushing you.

You’re both covered in a sheen of sweat, which makes your bodies slide slickly together whenever either of you move. Tsu’tey’s hand drifts down over your ass, and he squeezes lazily at the soft, squishy flesh there.

“Are you well, my mate?” He rumbles, still a little dazed as he lifts his head to squint down at you. “Did I- are you hurt?”

You’re staring at the ceiling, mouth softly ajar as you take deep, heaving breaths. His question makes you laugh, though it’s a quiet, breathless little sound.

“No,” You whisper, your mouth curving in a dopy sort of smile. “Only sore in the best way. Fuck, that was good.”

The positive affirmation is exactly what he needed to hear, and he feels his tail begin to sway in slow satisfaction. You had been right, after all – you could take it, and you were not necessarily as delicate as he had feared after your injury. The lazy, contented smile on your face only reassures him further that you are happy and unscathed.

He pulls out carefully, his ears twitching as he leaves your perfect, wet warmth. You hiss at the sensation too, and he rumbles a quiet apology before running the pads of his fingers over your swollen, puffy pussy; his come is dripping slowly out of you, and he rubs absently at the wet white trails to massage it into your skin.

“Bring me to the bed,” You say, though it lacks the demanding edge of the previous requests you had made. You sound sleepy, as though he had entirely worn you out.

His mouth twitches, and he reaches down to scoop you into his arms. You go easily, your head rolling around on your neck as you nuzzle into his chest. To his surprise, his own knees feel a little jelly-like when he moves to stand and put weight on them. Damn, he doesn’t think an orgasm has ever left him reeling like this afterwards.

When he lays you out on the tawtute-style bed he had made for you out of plant fibres and leaves, he crawls up next to you and stretches out, his tail undulating in lazy satisfaction. You roll over and shove your face up against his still glistening chest, burrowing close to him.

“Told you I could take it.” You say. You sound exhausted, but so damn pleased with yourself.

Tsu’tey just laughs, a tired sort of chuckle as he nuzzles his nose into your sweet-smelling hair.

“You take it so well, ma’yawntutsyìp,” He assures you fondly, pressing a little kiss to the top of your small, blunt little ear.

When he takes your hand and pulls it up to his face, he gives a small smile and presses his mouth to the near-invisible remnants of bruising around your wrist. He bares his sharp teeth against your fragile skin as he murmurs, “And I love you too.”

#tsu'tey x reader #tsu'tey smut #tsu'tey #avatar wotw #avatar x reader #na'vi x human #na'vi x reader #terato #fics #tsu'tey fic #alien x human #avatar 2 #avatar 2009

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

Note

oh, and it was a guy who decided to tell me that as soon as all my clothes were off

Original request:

I have a really personal request of thats ok w u. my first time having sex i was called ugly and obese, and it still sticks with me nowadays so i shy away from being fully exposed/on top/having the lights on bc im scared they were right and its gonna happen again - so how would 5 deal w this in a partner? if this is too weird 4 u then just ignore

Thanks to @kaybreezy3000 for reading through this before I posted and making me sound less like a wildly-masturbating 19th century nobleman. Note for you at the end, anon.

Venus and Cupid | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 4k words, Rated E

Five was an observant man: he had to be. If he hadn’t learned to pick up on the details then it's doubtful he could have even made it to adulthood.

So he noticed that you had quite specific tendencies very early on, back when you were first seeing one another. The first time you had sex, he thought you leaving your clothes on was pretty hot - it seemed as if you were so desperate to have him inside you that you couldn’t delay it even the short time it would take to get undressed - but it quickly became apparent to him that this was something more.

You always seemed to leave as many clothes on as humanly possible, or else turn off the lights before undressing shyly, almost reluctantly, always keeping something clutched around you.

His first reaction was to feel frustrated, (okay, frustrated and insecure, if you insisted on wheedling that out of him). Were you even into it?

He loved the sex you had, and you certainly seemed to get something out of it, but all the while you were covering yourself from his lustful gaze like he was a lecherous drunk eyeing you from down an alley.

He just didn’t understand it. Things were great outside the bedroom: you laughed together, you had intelligent, lively conversations…you even romanced him in a way nothing had taught him to expect. You anticipated his wants, you surprised him with dates and the occasional gift. You made him feel special and wanted in every way except this one way.

And he needed it that way too.

Maybe there was something about sex that brought home to you that he was old enough to be your father. Maybe you saw his hungry gaze as the leer of a dirty, predatory old man...and that thought hurt because it held too much truth.

He finally asked you about it after a session of sex in which you looked distinctly uncomfortable riding him, avoiding his gaze and keeping the bed sheets wrapped around you.

He brought it up in a way typical to him: blunt antagonism as defense, masking his real insecurities. “Question: why are you with me?”

“Because I like you,” you replied, confused by his tone.

“Sure,” he said, the smallest trace of sarcasm in his voice, “but there’s a problem here, isn’t there?”

You turned to him on the pillow, and you were greeted by his expectant, irritated smile. He raised a brow, clearly prompting you to state this so-called ‘problem’. When you seemed none the wiser, he continued.

“The problem seems to be that you hate having sex with me.”

You looked at him, nonplussed.

“No I don’t. Why would you say that?”

He shook his head with the trace of a bitter laugh.

“So you just hate me looking at you, is that it? You know, nobody’s forcing you to sleep with me. We could just end it if you can’t stand me ogling you.”

You turned away from him, folding your arms across your chest protectively, hugging yourself. You tried not to cry, but tears were already welling in your eyes, threatening to overspill and roll down your face. You could feel him slipping away; sense the rejection coming on the breeze.

At the sound of a sniffle, Five softened slightly

“Why do you always cover yourself?” he said, finally.

You choked back the tears.

“B-because I’m self-conscious about my body, okay?”

Five sounded incredulous.

“You’re self-conscious about your body?”

You nodded, still not looking at him.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he said, suddenly irritated again, “You expect me to believe someone who looks like you is self conscious about her body? You’re beautiful, what the hell do you got to be self conscious about?”

His words, though spoken in a tone of irritated disbelief, gave you a warm feeling in your chest. In fact, it was his irritation that assured you of his honesty. That feeling of affirmation brought more tears at first, and it took a few moments to recover.

Five waited for you to begin patiently, able to tell by now that you’d been holding something back, and realizing for the first time that perhaps this wasn’t all about him.

You told him everything.

Your first sexual experience was with somebody who called you ‘ugly’ and ‘obese’ as soon as your clothes were removed. The first man to touch you in that way had used that privilege, not to lift you up and make you feel beautiful, but to tear you down, destroying your confidence in the process. Now, being in full view when having sex was almost unbearable to you, so you avoided Five seeing you completely naked and you avoided being on top as far as you could, lest it break the illusion and he see you for what you really were.

You stopped occasionally to cry, unable to meet Five’s eyes. It was partially the memories, and partly the fact that you were bearing your soul to him in this way: totally vulnerable. You were giving power to him now; knowledge of how to hurt you worse than almost anything if he chose.

As he listened, Five’s heavy brows lowered further and further, his lips becoming thinner and thinner, occasionally shaking his head as you unfolded the tale.

“Shit.” he said, after you finished your story, and then fell into silence. After almost a full minute, he spoke in a low, serious tone.

“What was his name?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, wiping your eyes.

“What was his name?”

You told him.

“Well he’s a fucking idiot, you know that right? A nasty little…you know where he lives?”

“No.”

“No problem, I can find him.”

“Five-”

“First I’ll pull out his fucking fingernails.”

“Five, no.”

“I’ll kill that cunt slow. Ignorant-”

“Five!”

Your raised voice finally made him turn his head.

“What good would killing him do?”

He blinked.

“It would make me feel better,” he said, though the murderous fantasies seemed to be fading from behind his eyes.

Then, he shook his head, casting the thoughts away like a dog shaking off water.

“....I admit that making me feel better is low on our priority list right now.”

He held out his arms to you. When you didn’t immediately enter his embrace, he spoke in a voice so soft, and so caring that you couldn’t deny him.

“Please, my love.”

My love?

That was new.

You leaned up against him, and he wrapped his arms tightly around you, one around your shoulders, the other around your waist.

“You don’t have to feel self-conscious or…ashamed around me. You know I would never - you know that I…I worship you, for Chist’s sake. I’m desperate to see all of you. That guy was an ignorant, tasteless bastard. You don’t - surely you know that?”

You nodded uncertainly, another tear running down the side of your nose.

“I guess,” you said, mouth against his firm pectoral, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, “but I always get scared. Like you might…like one day you might see me and...get grossed out. Because…I know, I know I’m not sexy. I know I’m -”

“You think you aren’t sexy?” he said, speaking as if you’d just claimed that you were an organic cucumber, “are you crazy?”

He pulled away from you, a hand on each shoulder so he could look you dead in the eye.

“Jesus, you think I’d be ‘grossed out’ if I saw you? I’m not blind, y'know; a bedsheet or a light switch can’t really hide your body from me. You’re so sexy, I can barely think straight sometimes - how in the hell can you not see that? I’d choose you for looks over any girl, every damn time. The other day when you were wearing that tight black dress- god, I pitched a tent big enough to sleep eight.”

And the way he looked down at your silhouette had you almost believing him.

You smiled, nevertheless self conscious of the idea of your black dress being more form-hugging than you’d thought. Five continued, sweeping his hair carelessly out of his eyes.

“And it’s not just your face or your body, it’s the way you carry yourself. The way your hair falls, your smile, the color of your skin. It’s just attractive. It’s hot. End of story.”

The vehemence in his face made you smile a little more. He looked the way he did when he’d just completed a complex mathematical proof: buzzing with the knowledge of pure, objective truth. From his perspective, he had just conclusively proved an undeniable fact.

“I know I’m biased because I love you, but anyone would say that you’re beautiful. When you met Klaus, he took me aside and told me I was punching way over my weight. I didn’t even argue-”

But you interrupted him.

“You love me?”

He fell silent abruptly, playing back his last words in his mind.

Yup, he’d definitely said it.

He swallowed. He was an idiot.

“Well yes. Actually, I do.”

Before you had time to do anything except gape, he rushed to fill the silence:

“I know it’s not been too long, and I don’t expect you to feel the same-”

“But I do.”

He fell silent again, his eyes on yours.

They were strange eyes. Their shape and color, although beautiful, were normal enough, but there was a little something in their expression that always took you firmly by the throat. One might fall into those eyes and drown, yet his hand, coming to take yours, tethered you to the water’s edge.

“You sure?”

“Never been more sure of anything,” you breathed.

His lips gave a spasm and, for a moment, you both thought he was going to cry too, but instead, he just smiled. He smiled for you a lot, but the clear, open love in this one was like being bathed in warm sunlight, and you luxuriated in it.

Then, he laughed. He giggled, in fact. It bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth before he could temper it into anything that sounded more sophisticated.

“We love each other,” he said, grinning in a dopey, infectious way.

When you smiled back, he cupped your chin gently, those eyes keeping your face upturned to his just as firmly as his hand did. He leaned into you.

At first, his kiss was tender, and your lips slid past and around one another like an embrace. But when he leaned forward, forcing you back onto your pillows, his tongue entered your mouth, and the kiss took on a more amorous character. He made a low noise as he deepened his tongue’s quest into your mouth, and you reciprocated with a soft bite to his lower lip.

He growled, and heat spread through you as his kiss became rough and firm, pressing you into the pillows now with the weight of his body. All the tenderness had transferred from his lips to his hands, one stroking reassuringly through your hair, and the other at your waist, giving you feather-light, electric touches through the bedsheets.

Your hands came to his subtly muscled back, and cinched him closer to you. The heat was concentrating now, pooling in your lower stomach and swirling there as his unyielding lips let you know that resistance was futile. Your skin was alight with every gentle, loving touch from his fingers, now starting to work their way beneath the bedsheets.

He broke the kiss just long enough to speak. His voice matched the kiss: deep, rough and feral.

“Let me see you.”

Though it was a command, it had the sound of a request, so you took it as such.

Despite the desire now aching in your guts, your fears were still there: perhaps irrational in this situation, but no less real. Beneath the sheets, Five’s hand squeezed and massaged the flesh just above your hip. The touch spoke of his renewed need, but it spoke also of his restraint: his hand had stopped just shy of the area you’d usually hide.

“Please.”

And the word, in that husky voice, broke you.

“Okay,” you said, arousal threatening to be overcome by nerves, “just…take it slowly.”

He nodded distractedly. His eyes were roaming your skin as he came to kneel between your legs. Both of his hands were now inching the bedsheets down, from your waist to the swell of your hips.

He made a low noise in his throat, and his soft hair fell onto the newly-exposed torso as he bent to kiss it, hot presses of his lips against sensitive skin. His hands skimmed you, feeling out your flesh.

“So beautiful,” he growled, looking up at you, fingers worming their way beneath the sheets again, “is this okay?”

You nodded as he pulled the sheets down another few inches, exposing your stomach to just below the navel. As the air met the newly-exposed skin, you felt gooseflesh prickle across your arms, your stomach tightening with the feeling of exposure. “Pretty girl.” Five cooed, running his hands across your tummy, his pressure gentle, but proprietary.

With another slow shift of the sheets, and you were exposed to your pubic bone. He let out a breath and squeezed the skin of your hips, smiling at you broadly. It was the dangerous, toothy smile.

“I’m sorry, my love, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to get you over this. I’m going to have to make you realize how fucking hot you are, because I’m going to need to hold onto you just like this while you bounce on my cock. I need to watch these tits bounce while you ride me.”

He squeezed your flank harshly, making you gasp, and you arched your back into him as he leaned forward to take each nipple into his mouth. There was a low rumble in his throat as he first nibbled, and then soothed each tortured bud with his tongue. Your whines tailed off into moans, as arousal and the intensity of his desire once again overcame your fears.

You felt his satisfied smile around your nipples, and then his hands left your hips to paw and knead your breasts, weighing and bouncing them in each hand.

He gave you another kiss on the lips before straightening up, so that he was kneeling over you again, head tilted as he looked down on you, almost speculatively. The position made it obvious that he was hard again, his bulge stretching the fabric of his white boxer-briefs, leaning up against his stomach and beginning to put pressure on the elastic of his waistband. His pretty, curved cock was perfectly outlined by the material:

“I’m going to make you feel so confident that you’ll push me onto the bed, trap me between your thighs and ride me so hard I get a concussion against the headboard.”

Though the idea made you feel another squirm of discomfort, the humor combined with the lust behind his eyes made you give a small smile.

“Not today,” you said, in a small voice.

The memories were still too close…the hurt from recalling them was only just over the horizon.

“Not today.” he confirmed, eyes roving down to where the bedsheets still covered your sex, “but can I see your pussy, beautiful?”

“Yes.” you said, barely more than a whisper.

“Mm. Good girl,” he groaned, and pulled the bedsheets down to your knees.

There you were, fully exposed to him…totally bared. Internally, you were fighting between the urge to cover up, and the urge to please him. You still felt exposed, like a turtle without its shell, vulnerable laid out in front of him.

He was still taking it all in, eyes lingering on where your thighs were as close together as they could be with his body between your calves.

Part of you was still terrified it was coming. Perhaps he wouldn’t be cruel - he’d probably try to be polite about it - but he was still about to reject you now that he’d finally got a real look. Perhaps it was okay when his imagination could fill in the blanks, but now he’d actually seen you -

“Oh,” he said.

And in that syllable, all your fears were proved baseless. The sound was a moan of pure, wanton appreciation.

His tongue slid out to wet his lips, still pink and swollen from his hard kisses. His dominant left hand slid immediately into his underwear, and he began to pump himself vigorously. Apparently, he was more than ready for this evening’s second round.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, speeding his strokes as his eyes roamed your exposed flesh, “you’re so hot.”

As his eyes came to your thighs and pussy again, he increased the frequency of his strokes, fist still out of sight down his underwear.

“Five,” you said, anxiously, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Just a few minutes, baby.” he said, desperately, “Look what you’re doing to me.”

Beneath the material, he retracted his foreskin and pressed the head of his cock against the small, wet patch that had appeared there. The pink of his deeply-flushed cock tip was just visible through the fabric, rendered semi-transparent by his precome.

“I’m already leaking.” he said, agony creeping into his rough voice, “Just a few more minutes. Just until I finish.”

His eyes looked hazy, far away somehow, transported to a place where his body’s need ruled him with an iron fist. It was enchanting to behold, impossibly arousing: Five Hargreeves (the man of impeccably starched, pressed and tightly-buttoned dress shirts), was keening in front of you, totally undone with his hips gyrating into his own fist as he visually devoured your body.

“Let me eat you,” he said, begging now, “I want to jack myself off with my head between those thighs.”

And he groaned at the idea, throwing his head back and speeding his pumps.

Your body didn’t give you the opportunity to turn him down. Your pussy throbbed and slick wetness drooled onto your thighs as you looked up at him, all pale skin, latent strength and desperation.

You gave a small nod, and he bent, first to kiss your lips and then to press small pecks onto each thigh.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, “open your legs for me. Show me that pretty pussy.”

And that way, with small kisses progressively further up your thighs, he coaxed your legs wide.

“Good girl,” he crooned, his hand leaving his leaking cock only for the minute it would take to run his index finger up and down your slit.

You shivered at the contact, too sensitive. He’d already fingered and fucked you to two orgasms tonight, and the feeling of his mouth replacing his finger made you buck immediately.

“Nngh - Five.”

In response to your moan, he tasted you with a flat tongue.

Your flavor, a potent honey, made his cock twitch in his hand, and he wrapped his free arm around your leg, drawing you even closer to him. Your soft folds soaked his lips, serving to excite him more.

“Fuck,” he whispered, still in that low growl. His exhale sent warm air dancing across your swollen clit, “you’re so perfect. I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

You had no time to glow with his praise, because he was sucking your clit too hard for you to do anything but gasp. As his mouth worked you, his tongue moved rapidly inside his mouth, flicking deliberately across your aching, needy nub. His tongue pulsed to the same beat as his hand inside his underwear, unconsciously matching the rhythm of your pleasure to his.

“God, Five!”

All the shame and discomfort was gone, washed away by the tide of swirling heat. The pleasure curled inside you, winding tighter and tighter. All that mattered now was Five’s clever mouth, pushing you inexorably towards another orgasm.

Your conscious brain let go, and your hand gripped his hair tightly, not aware that you were pulling him even closer to you, forcing his nose into your mound.

He grunted like a wounded bear, surprise causing his hand to falter around his cock. It was hard to concentrate, so preoccupied was he by the fact that you were taking control, pressing his face deeper into your folds. It was quite possibly the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

Recovering, he gripped himself even tighter, veins and tendons standing out in his left forearm as he worked himself almost violently.

He was too close now, and it made him clumsy, completely losing the rhythm of his suckles and tonguing.

“Nooo!” you whined, thighs tightening around his head, “Like before!”

Though lightheaded with the knowledge that your thighs were crushing his ears, (he was wrong earlier, this was definitely the hottest thing he had ever experienced), Five reluctantly let up on his protesting manhood and concentrated his efforts on your pussy.

Soon, you were gasping and moaning, writhing, and taking him with you with the power of your thighs.

“F-Five. Fuuuck. Oh fuck, that’s it!”

Your cunt gushed onto his face as he brought you to orgasm. He groaned again as his chin and cheeks were soaked with sweet slickness. He strained to hear you scream his name, your thighs rendering him deaf as they clutched around his ears. While he couldn’t hear the individual words, he certainly heard enough to flatter his ego.

Wave after wave of ecstasy was crashing through you, and you babbled meaninglessly: unconnected, incomprehensible syllables. Behind closed eyes, you were seeing stars, completely unaware of everything but the explosion going on in your lower body.

He withdrew, finally, when your thighs relaxed and your climax abated to spasms down your limbs. As you were still catching your breath, he rose to his knees, wiped his sodden mouth, and took himself in hand again, looking at you splayed, completely on display and too drunk on his sex to care.

It took him fewer than ten pumps to bring himself to orgasm.

“Fucking gorgeous - cunt tastes so good. Mm - fucking perfect, so fucking hot. Oh shit!”

Eyebrows raised, mouth wide in a perfect ‘o’, he exploded into his underwear.

You could see his first shots of come soaking through the material before he was even finished painting their insides with spurts of his thick seed: an impressive load given the fact it was his second in under an hour.

His throat ground out a low whine as he slowed his hand.

He took four or five seconds to catch his breath, and in that time your conscious mind took a firmer hold. Though you pulled the bedsheets up and over you, it was more for physical comfort rather than mental.

Five crawled beneath the sheets beside you, still breathing hard. When he collapsed on the pillow, he turned to you.

“Believe me now?” he asked, “you think I’d wank myself raw over someone I thought was ugly?”

You smiled and let out a small puff of air; a shy little laugh.

He propped himself up on one elbow while his other hand caressed your body beneath the sheets.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, firmly, “To me, you’re a renaissance painting, and I was there when Titian finished Venus and Cupid, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmured, eyes already heavy, “I’m sorry that I squeezed your head with my legs.”

“You kidding me?” he said, amused, “You could break my neck with your thighs and I’d die happy…what a way to go.”

“Well,” you said, a little discomfort returning, “I still feel bad.”

“Baby steps,” he said, voice as soft as his hand now stroking hair away from your eyes, “soon I’ll have you riding me fast and rough.”

You smiled and let his caresses close your tired eyes. After a few minutes, in which he looked lovingly down at your gentle doze, his voice sounded again.

“Can I at least beat the living shit out of that guy?”

You considered.

“...Maybe.”

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: Dear sweet, anonymous girl, I see you. You did not deserve this, and this was never your problem. These formative experiences really do hurt us, and yours was such an extreme version that I'm not surprised it's given you these insecurities. I can promise you, it does get better. Feminism and loving yourself is at least half the battle, but nothing quite cements the truth like this: One day, you will be naked in front of a guy you trust completely. He'll look at you with that lustful, testosterone-fuelled glower and you'll know without a shadow of a doubt that, to him, you are venus. I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you

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pascaloverx · 9 months

Text

OUR SECRET — MYG

chapter one

Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.

Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.

AO3LINK NEXT

"You're in denial, you could just say you didn't want me anymore. But you prefer to pretend that..." You throw his favorite book out the window like it means nothing. 'Cause now it doesn't mean.

"You can't blame me, our romance should have ended a long time ago. But you and I..." Yoongi seems almost too serious saying this. Do you mean nothing to him?

"You and me what?" You respond from the balcony of your apartment. Luckily your neighbors aren't too curious to know why you're yelling at your ex-lover.

"You know I can't shout that here, some fans might be here." Poor little thing, at that moment you wonder where the brave man is who asked you to embark on this relationship even though you knew your worlds would never be the same.

"I thought the whole point of paying a lot of money to live in an apartment far from the big city and known for its discretion would be being able to yell at you at two in the morning." You don't care if he thinks he's going to leave you without anything more or less, and that you're going to come out of this situation smiling, he should have found someone else to have sex with.

"If you would let me come up, we could talk like adults." He speaks subtly with an impressive poker face. If he stops being a musician, perhaps he could try a career as an actor or a gambler.

"Like adults? I'll be waiting for the other adult to arrive." You say throwing some clothes that are in your apartment that belong to him.

"Like you're being mature about all this. Damn!" One of his belongings ends up breaking near his feet. In fright he lets out several swear words, you luckily end up laughing.

"You break up with me over the phone and I have to be mature. I gave up part of my freedom to be yours. And look what I get in return." Anger took over you initially but now all you can do is try to keep from crying.

"Y/N. Let me in, so we can talk. I can see you almost crying from here." You smile lightly as you feel tears fall down your cheek. What a humiliation.

"If you cared about me you would have had the decency to say that you wanted to finish it the last time you were here." His cowardice can only be explained by his fear of having to do this in person.

"I couldn't. I didn't..." That was exactly what was left of the two of you. An awkward silence and resentment.

"Do you know how frustrating it is not being able to curse your name or tell someone you broke my heart?" You say that sobbing. What a tragedy it is that has made you sentimental now.

"Just because we don't work anymore doesn't mean I don't love you." You look at him and for a moment you feel more sorry for him than for yourself.

"If this is how you love someone. I'm sorry to inform you that you don't know love." Ironically it makes you smile. Maybe this is all his fault, not yours.

"Love..." It's very painful to see the man you've been involved with for the last year, call you that and not be able to respond.

"I'll send the rest of your things to the company. Don't worry, I won't expose you any more than I already have. Now get out of here, you and your fake love." Using one of his songs as the grand finale was a majestic act. Crying yourself to sleep, unfortunately, is not so majestic.

Two Months Later...

"You were the only person I thought would understand my situation. Try not to judge me but I need an opinion." You say looking Namjoon in the eyes. You got really close to him during your secret relationship with Yoongi.

"Is it too big a secret?" He asks entering his new home. A home where you swore you would start over.

"You tell me..." You say, opening your coat and revealing your stomach.

"Did you call me here because you gained weight after the breakup or do you have worms?" Namjoon asks and you smile nervously. Until you shake your head denying.

"Let's say the weight gain is due to something prior to the breakup..." You try not to say the word. Maybe the situation will go away if you don't name it.

"You are pregnant?" He named his current situation. Now it means it's really happening.

"Surprise!" You say trying to liven up the situation but you know you're fucked. Namjoon seems really surprised. As soon as he assimilates the information, he hugs you. You knew you could lean on the friendship you two have.

#min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #reader insert #spotify #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts angst #bts smut #min yoongi x you #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #ex to enemies to lovers #namjoon #seokjin #taehyung #jungkook #jhope #jimin

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comicaurora · 10 months

Note

I've started making my way through the playlist hbomberguy made of actually good video essays by queer creators and spotted a comment of yours on the one about the relationship between Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, which was fun xD red in the wild!

Anyways, just wanted to appreciate how both you and Blue and you are very good at showing your sources! It's always nice to know that the people you've watched for years have good habits after an event like this, and I hope you guys are among the people that get some new fans after this whole debacle, because your channel definitely qualifies for "good educational videos made by queer people"

I'm glad! Blue's much better about listing his sources and follow-up reading than I am.

To be honest, I loved the video, but my imposter syndrome always flares like crazy when I watch an essay like that. It might be the ADHD or it might just be who I am as a person, but I feel like I've lived my whole life striving to make everything I do the best it can be, and still managing to fuck up and get criticised for things I could've done better if only I never missed anything. It's an actual gut-drop when it turns out a source I used wasn't trustworthy, or when in older videos I only went wiki-deep for some claims and didn't check every source to be 100% sure I wasn't being goat-fish'd. And this being the internet, I can get criticized at any time for things I've gotten wrong years ago, since it's evergreen online and to the new-viewing critic it's as fresh as yesterday. It makes it hard for me to stay proud of my work past the first moment of "oh I would've done that different now". There's a cocktail of complicated, scary feelings around this space, no matter how little I actually have in common with the bad guys of this scenario - it's less about the reality and more about who my imposter syndrome tells me I am. I saw several people saying that the video actually made them feel much better about their own work because it made it clear that accidental plagiarism on that scale is impossible, but if my anxieties listened to reason I would've successfully machete'd them out of my skull years ago. I just hope I never fuck up badly enough to deserve an hbombing of my own.

But my own stress aside, the hbomb essay exposed a level of laxness, laziness and entitlement on the part of these plagiarists that I think is almost incomprehensible to people who actually create for a living or even just the joy of it. How hollow do you have to be to take in someone else's writing and not consider it, digest it, let it reshape your views and then formulate your own interpretation on it, but instead to file off the serial numbers and pretend it's yours, trusting that the person whose thoughts and words you valued enough to steal will never be powerful enough to call you out on it? I go down research rabbit holes because I love the frustration and thrill of putting something together! How joyless it must be to skim the surface and borrow someone else's conclusions!

I've sometimes had people email asking for sources on parts of my interpretation of various myths, possibly in the interest of source-citing for school papers (a nightmare concept in and of itself) and with very few exceptions I usually have to tell them "the only sources were the english translations I used of the primary source where the myth was originally written, like I said in the video, and the part where I said I was conspiracy-boarding has no source other than my own analysis of the given source, which is why I called it conspiracy-boarding" and I was always a little baffled by those emails - half the videos are introduced like "this is The Prose Edda" or "this is in Ovid's Metamorphoses" or "this bit is Hesiod" so what else could they want - but seeing the hbomb of the week made me realize that truly original analysis might not be what most people are expecting from a "thing summarized." They might be expecting a compilation of other people's summaries instead.

#asks #not aurora

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strangeshoepatrolbandit-alt · 10 months

Text

Saudade.

Warnings: Distrust, being a hostage, mentions of death and murder, being knocked out yet again.

Part two.

Series Masterlist.

~☆~

Your hair had long since dried from your shower as you sat on "your" bed, thinking over everything that has led you to this moment.

You went from a small force user who was taken in by the Jedi and became a Padawan, to a Jedi Knight, to a newly appointed Jedi Master, to a person who went into hiding, then to a hostage for a Jedi killer.

A knock echoed from the doors to your room.

Weird, the Stormtroopers haven't knocked the past few times you saw them...

The doors opened and low and behold, there was a stormtrooper.

"Lord Vader has requested to see you, Ma'am." He stands at attention, looking forward, rather than looking at you.

A tingle went down your spine. This was it. This was how you die. "He does?"

The Stormtrooper nods his head ever so slightly. "Affirmative. He was very adamant. If you refuse, I will have to use force."

You listened to the slightly modulated voice before getting up from your bed. "There's no need...."

You walked over to the door, standing near the Stormtrooper so that he could lead the way. He grabs your bicep with the hand that's not holding his blaster, holding onto you so you don't run off.

He leads you down the hall where a few more Stormtroopers join your walk, marching behind the two of you.

To your surprise, you're not led to another room where you'll meet Darth Vader. You're led to big double doors that require a keycard and password so that they can open.

The stormtrooper you're with does what he needs, and the doors slowly open, revealing the hot atmosphere of Mustafar and the black rocks that sometimes have molten lava seep down them.

Your other arm is suddenly grabbed by another stormtrooper. They both pull you outside, their fingers digging into your arms from their firm grips. You were led away from the fortress that you had recently been forced to stay in. Now you stood in a plain open space. Black rocks covering the black ground.

They let go of your arms and immediately started walking away. "W- Hey!" You turned to face the Stormtroopers, ready to go after them, but a presence stopped you.

The presence is so familiar, making you giddy. Hopeful.

Only its more sinister. Dark

You slowly turn back around, your eyes darting around the terrain.

It felt like he was everywhere.

"You're scared." Another modulated voice speaks from behind you, but this one made it harder to understand the person's real voice.

You turn around yet again, facing him. He was big, standing almost seven feet tall. "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering."

"Still using the Jedi ways, I see." He noted, standing eerily still, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Excuse me?" You're confused, frustrated. He can tell. "Do I know you?" You meant to ask: 'Did I know you?'

He took a step, then another. His aura was so striking. You feel like you're drowning in his aura.

Maybe you could.

"What do you want?" You ask, your voice holding false confidence. "Why am I here? Are you going to kill me now?"

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have left you in that cellar to die." He told you. "I would have made sure you were left neglected and rotting in there. I wouldn't have given you your own chambers and some new clothing."

"Maybe you just want to lure me into a false sense of security?"

He stopped his steps, standing just about six feet away from you. "I get what I want. I don't wait for it. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead."

The two of you stared at each other, neither of you uttering a word. Knowing he was looking at you from underneath his helmet, but not being able to see his face made you uncomfortable, exposed. You knew he could see and feel everything about you, but you can't see or feel anything about him.

"I was on that backwater planet for business." He told you, breaking the silence as he talked about where you lived and were taken from. "Imagine my surprise when I found a Jedi."

He won't tell you that he felt your presence on that planet he marched around on foot until he wandered across your comfy little home.

Hope.

"And now what? You just hold on to me?" You question him some more.

"I do not have to explain myself to you."

"You do when it is my life!"

He stood idle, staring at you with his threatening gaze. You couldn't find a single weak spot within him. His walls were too high. Regret started to fill you, your body full of trepidation.

"You've never had your own life. I'm giving you one." He offers an outstretched hand, his leather gloves reminding you of an old friend of yours. "With me."

Your eyebrows furrow. With him?

"Join me, Y/N L/N."

A breath escapes you. "No." Your voice is firm. "I'm not joining you."

His outstretched hand balls into a fist. "You will."

Your vision grows spotty, darkness starting to grow in random spots. Your legs give out and you collapse to your knees.

"Ngh..." A strained noise escapes your lips before you went down completely, unconscious yet again.

Vaders modulated voice spoke to deaf ears.

"Do not fight me, Starshine."

~☆~

Taglist: @songbirdcannabe @sonnensplitter @divxnee @anakinslvt @sweetcheesecakesblog @artemissunn @valsarchives @slut-4-ani @luvvfromme

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars x reader #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #anakin x reader #star wars #star wars x y/n #star wars x you #darth vader x female reader #darth vader x y/n #darth vader x you #darth vader x reader #darth vader

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billskeis · 9 months

Note

Could you do giving 2010 Tom the best head hes ever had :p

ᡣ𐭩 tom receiving the best head ever

after a good day out of shopping with your friends, you all decided that it was time to head home. your head was foggy, needy, and you were extremely frustrated with a certain something.

a certain, someone, occupying your mind.

you enter your apartment throwing your keys onto the counter, plopping all the bags your held that left your arms and fingers arching. turning red from all the tensions of the handles that almost brought you down with gravity.

“what’s up baby? how was the mall?” a voice was heard from the side as a small kiss was placed onto your cheek. the figure passed you and sat down on the couch in the living room.

tom cracked open a coke bottle and took a sip of the fizzy beverage while watching whatever was on the tv. giggles were heard after there was an assumingely comedic scene from the screen.

again, you didn’t really care to make note of that, or the bags that once filled you with so much excitement as you swiped your card like at least twenty times.

to you, the person who was watching the tv, was veryy important right now.

you walk, making your way towards the couch and standing in front of the television, blocking tom’s view. he tries to lean his head to each side of your body but you still stood straight within his peripherals.

“baby, move please, ‘m watching,” he asks politely, and as much as you really wanted to listen to him and just let him go along with his day, you were extremely needy. you don’t say anything to him. just standing there, he raises an eyebrow at you.

slowly, you begin to get down on your knees.

“s-schatzi?? what’re you doing?” “just lemme relieve some stress, i need this, okay?” he first held your shoulders in concern as to why you were knelt down in front of him, but instead he just leans back into the couch.

he could tell that after all that time outside, you just needed this to calm down. why like this? he doesn’t know, not that he’s complaining but this is the first time you’ve ever wanted to give him head.

he was always a giver. and he never asks despite his libido. tom wanted to wait for you to ask him. he was patient, surprisingly. you bring your hands to fiddle and undo the tie that held his sweatpants together, bringing them down mid-thigh to expose his boxers.

palming him, tom groans softly and shuts his eyes tight. “y/n…” you then free his dick from his boxers, springing up. you look at it in shock.

you had sex, you knew of tom’s size and length, it filled you. in a good way, of course. but never had you really had the time and effort to actually take a good look at it before. you’ve never blown him, or even given him a handjob.

well! i guess today was the day.

you lick a long stripe up his length, closing your eyes, all you can hear from his reaction is a deep inhale. opening one of your eyes, you peak to see your boyfriend clutching very tightly onto the couch. his head rests on the top of it as he just lays there.

“you okay tomi?” “yeayea, just—fuck keep going..” you then take him into your mouth and begin bobbing your head up and down, ensuring to coat his entire dick with your saliva.

you swirl your tongue along his shaft, not missing a spot or leaving an inch of his penis neglected. because he’s so big, you can’t have his whole length in your mouth so instead you jerk the bottom half of his shaft while the top remains in your mouth.

“a-ah, shit schatz just like that.. being so good f’me.. know how to work your mouth just right,” for your first time sucking him off, you’re doing pretty well!

opening both your eyes, you can see how tom clenches his jaw shut and how his stomach caves in, “tellin’ me this ya first time?” he questions, you stop sucking him off with a pop sound, saliva running down your chin.

“yep! i was just really in the mood.. been outside for too long,” “could tell, couldn’t wait to put my dick in your mouth huh?” kissing his tip, you watch as tom’s hips jerk slightly upward at the sudden sensation.

“don’t get ahead of yourself, this is for me. not you,” “whatever you say baby,” continuing, you bring his tip into your mouth once more, swirling your tongue around the head slowly to ensure he feels allllll of your mouth on him, again bringing your hands to rub the rest of his length.

tom brings a hand to pat your head, “coming.. ‘m gonna come soon,” you don’t stop, you overstimulate him. he deserves it, he’s the best boyfriend you’ve ever had and he deserves such treatment.

bless his heart for letting you suck him off.

you fasten the pace of how you move your tongue and hands along his member. quickly but swiftly, tom brings both hands to the back of your head. gripping on your hair, he shoves his dick down your throat, releasing his load along the walls of your esophagus.

you don’t choke. why? that’s a mystery we’ll never know. maybe you’re just made for sucking dick. because after this first session, tom’s fucking addicted.

“fuckbabyfuck!” as his hips jolt into your mouth, he slows down his small thrusts into you as he finally lets go of your hair. you stick your tongue out at him to show your boyfriend that you had swallowed his load.

“y/n! why did you do that!?” he immediately grabs a tissue from the coffee table to wipe off the saliva and cum around your mouth and chin, “s’fine, you literally just deepthroated me without warning..” “fuck—yeah sorry it just felt good…head so good you got me acting insane schatz…”

smiling at him, you stick a tongue out at him, “i know, thanks for letting me do that, i really needed it,” you begin to get up and leave to put away the shopping bags and begin cooking dinner.

that was until a hand grabbed your wrist and stilled your movements.

“tom?” “but we still have to fix this..”

you look down to below his torso, he’s still hard. you swallow a hard lump going down your throat. even though you just gave tom the best head of his life, you felt yourself becoming nervous. as if you were a virgin.

oh boy.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp

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sketchedspiders · 6 months

Text

Cotag actually breaks my fucking heart knowing the reality of their relationship and the fact that they could never be able to truly love each other.

1. Their workplace literally steals their mind, body, and soul so they can just become machines that don’t think of or take interest in anything else.

2. It’s the 1970s and they’re both guys; being gay wasn’t allowed anywhere back then.

[Full analysis under the cut + Spoilers]

[Keep in mind some of this is my own interpretations, but it still goes off canon)

Normal Guy literally tells Protag this when he tells him that Coworker was a great help and they got along well.

He gets frustrated by this fact and worries that Coworker is a distraction for Protag. He doesn’t want them to form a relationship of any kind because it would distract them from their work. Immediately after Normal Guy tells him that, he goes on to ask this:

Maybe I’m reaching right now because this question comes up no matter what, but for this it’s important. There’s multiple reasons and aspects as to why he asked this question, but one of them could be the fact that if Protag did feel anything around Coworker, then Normal Guy would know. It’s hard to explain, but think about a racing heart for example. People’s heart rate increases when they’ve infatuated by somebody, and when they see that person do even the tiniest things it makes them flustered. If they become nervous around that person, their breathing may become weird; which is why it brings us to this question. If Normal Guy finds an abnormality in Protag’s body that would prevent him from working, he would wanna know the reason, and if that reason is Coworker, then it pushes him to think their relationship is even more of a distraction to the both of them.

Normal Guy wants all his employees to dedicate their entire lives to the company. He doesn’t want them forming any sort of relationship that’s not entirely business related. If Protag’s heart is in something else, then that would create a multitude of problems. Not even his organs belong to him anymore, so neither of them even get the option to be together fully.

I think it’s also important to note that if you do choose the option to tell Normal Guy that Protag and Coworker did get along, this can lead you to get the bad ending where he literally erases Protag’s entire identity and makes him a different person. It’s wrong for them to be together no matter the circumstance, and their entire lives would be erased, along with their original relationship.

However, if the company did allow them to have a full on relationship, it wouldn’t have worked anyways. They’d be a gay couple in the 1970s, and homophobia was not only rampant back then but it was illegal. People would get arrested, sent to conversion therapy, or even lobotomized for being homosexual.

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a LONG time, and this is also what pushed me to write “I wish you were born a girl” (yes hi I’m destroymeiloveyou on ao3 I’m exposing my identity for a moment here and if you don’t know wtf I’m talking about then ignore this).

They could be together in private theoretically, but with them being gay and also working at a company that doesn’t even want their employees to have a life outside of work, it’d be near impossible. Both of them would be at a constant risk of losing everything. Although, they already have given up so much for their work, would it even be worth it?

Coworker is already a closeted person with his feelings and such. He puts up a narcissistic front because of how insecure he is. His title means everything to him because he doesn’t have much else. It gives him a sense of security, and he wants somebody else to recognize that because he wants to feel loved. That’s a whole other analysis for later, but taking this into account with everything else, would he be willing to give up the little that he has to give him security for a relationship that was doomed from the beginning?

With how desperate he tries to impress others (especially Protag), and how attached he is to his title as well as his nepotism, his life being turned upside down just like that would be a nightmare. Everybody would turn against him, and no longer would he be the star employee at the company. In reality, he would be just as in denial about his feelings as Protag would be.

Also. ALSO!!! Speaking of Protag, it is heavily implied and agreed upon that Protag has religious trauma because of floor 4. If he did grow up in a strict, christian household, he would definitely have internalized homophobia.

The sight of a cross makes him nervous, meaning he’s probably no longer christian, but it has left a longterm effect on him.

This means that despite how he left his christian past behind, the things he was taught as a kid has never left him.

If his parents wanted him to be a “good kid” and follow God, I think they would’ve taught him that homosexuality is a sin. That’s one of the lessons that have also never left him, and he still stands by it even if hiding his identity makes him miserable.

Although, no matter how hard he tries, it’ll be obvious his heart will never be in the company or christian values. He’s gonna end up hurt and hurting whether he hides his feelings or not, which is just as tragic. He’d feel terrible once he recognizes how he feels about Coworker and I don’t think he’d ever confess. Protag would just suppress his feelings and they would both suffer silently.

If either of them did end up confessing, they still wouldn’t ever be able to truly get together anyways.

So, cotag could be in love, but they would never actually be able to be romantically together or express their feelings at all. They can do the littlest acts, like spending time with each other on breaks, but it’ll never be enough.

It’s not even right person, wrong time; it’s wrong person, wrong time.

I would write WAY more and I’ll probably yap about this later too because I’ve been keeping this to myself for so long, but I have to cut this short for now.

I probably sound like matpat right now with how im reaching with some of this stuff but I don’t care I need everybody to suffer along with me LMFAOO

I would add a funny image here but I’ve reached the limit. Anyways if you have any questions PLEASE let me know I love yapping about my cotag interpretations and theories

#cotag #coworker elevator hitch #protag elevator hitch #elevator hitch #neptune yaps #people reading this being like did we play the same hour long game where two dudes are trapped in an elevator #yes. i’m just insane #i love tragic doomed elevator yaoi

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hearts4golbach · 1 month

Text

The Boy Next Door.

this fanfiction is co-written by @emo_central on Ao3.

part 1.

pairing:

Jake Webber x Fem!Reader.

a/n:

this is part one out of ??? parts!

not proofread

warnings:

masturbation, sex mentioned.

word count:

2.6k

Y/ns pov:

Earlier today, before I left for my shift, I saw the the U-Haul trucks, I have a new neighbor, and whoever it is, is moving in fast.

When I get back home from my day shift, the U-hauls are gone and the faint beat of music is playing. It's about 11:30 but if I just put in my headphones, I'll be able to fall asleep.

i sighed, tossing my headphones down onto the bed. of course they were dead. i held my pillow over my face and took a deep breath. why did this strange neighbor have to be having a party right before a 17 hour shift? the music was starting to give me a headache, and the screams and cheers definitely were not helping.

Who the fuck decides to have a party the exact same day they move in? Especially this late at night? I still try to fall asleep but just end up tossing and turning for the next half hour. I scream into my pillow in frustration. Working up the courage, I leave my cozy home to go ask the new neighbors to quiet down just a little bit. I hate doing stuff like this, I feel like a Karen, but I have to get up in 5 hours and then work a 17 hour shift at the hospital. So, I walk a few feet over to the stranger's house and knock on the door. Of course no one answers because they can't hear over the music, so I just walk in, trying to find the new home owner.

i walked up to the first person a saw; a guy with black, messy hair. i tapped on his shoulder, trying to not let my anger seep through. "do you know where the owner of this house is?" i shouted over the music.

"uh, i think he went upstairs.." he trailed off, taking another sip of his drink. "but, i live here. whats up?"

"i'm your neighbor, i have work early and i just want to ask to turn the music down a bit, could you do it?" i ask trying my hardest to have a non threatening voice.

"umm, i'm not good at calming down crowds, he is though, i think i saw him go upstairs so look up there." he responds drunkenly. i sigh and start to make my way over to and up the big staircase. then i start skimming my way down the hall, looking in every room. until i get to a the third to last room in the hall.

the door opens with a creak, scaring the living shit out of the two people sitting on the bed together. the woman scrambled to get out of the mans lap. your face flusters as you stare at the guy with bright red hair. "shit, sorry."

"fuck," he mumbled, buttoning his pants and walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him. "can i help you?" his voice drips with attitude.

his eyes scan over my body, lingering on the pajama shorts im wearing and the white tanktop with no bra underneath. i felt my face flush and immediate cross my arms over my exposed skin. you had to admit, the guy you were face to face with was gorgeous. you quickly snapped out of it, remembering you had more important things to focus on.

"are you the person throwing this party?" i asked, my eyebrows furrowing together.

"yeah, why?" he asks, his voice is deep and something about it sends a shiver up my spine.

"i'm your neighbor, and i really don't want to complain-"

"so don't." the man towering over me cuts me off.

"listen, i'm a nurse, i just got back from a 9 hour shift and i have to wake up in less than 5 hours for another 17 hours shift. all i'm asking is for you to just quiet down a little, or if you have headphones i can borrow?" it's a weird question to ask a complete stranger, but at this point i'm desperate for sleep. he runs his hand down his face.

"if i give you my headphones, will you leave my house? cuz you just ruined my hookup for the night. so you owe me." he says, his deep voice still dripping with attitude..

i take a step towards him. "and you owe me an hour of sleep." i snatched the headphones out of his hand and turned to walk away. before i can, he grabs my arm. i shoot daggers at him. "hold on a minute, how do i know you're going to bring those back?" he asks gruffly.

"i leave for my shift at 4:30 then i get back in between 9 and 10. if-"

"holy shit. that really is 17 hours," his eyes widen.

"yes," i say a bit annoyed, "now, if I don't knock on your door by 10:30, i'm either dead or asleep, which there isn't really a difference. i leave a spare key underneath the door mat, let yourself in." he raises an eyebrow, "are you seriously going to let a stranger into your house while you're sleeping?"

"well, i dont think youre a killer. if you were, you wouldve killed me for fucking up your night. the only other scenario is you do some weird shit while im sleeping, and thats when i'd kill you. so, i think we'll be good." i ripped my arm out of his grasp. "anyway, i dont want your earwax polluting my house for too long."

he rolled his eyes, watching as i walked away. i sigh and make my way out of that stuffy ass house. although he never actually turned the music down, i ended up getting a pretty decent sleep.

work the next day was long, but i made it through. my neighbor, who's name i never got, never seemed to leave my mind. it gave me a genuine headache. he was so attractive but such a dick. i tried to shake the feeling of his gaze on me, but it stayed until i made it home.

i look at the clock, it's almost 10. i have 30 minutes to get presentable. my hair's a mess, my eye bags are dark as fuck, and my scrubs smell like throw up. let's hope i have time for a shower, because i desperately need one. i quickly hop into the shower shuddering under the cold water.

Jake's pov: she hasn't left my mind since last night. she's beautiful, and i love her attitude. i anxiously did what i had planned that day, with her on my mind. sure she ruined my hookup, but the second i actually was able to look her over, i didn't care, because i don't think i've ever met someone as beautiful as her.

*time skip to 10:30*

it's 10:30 and she's not here. the time hits 10:40 and I can't wait any longer. i get up and make my way over to my new neighbor's house. i go to know but remember the spare key. if she's sleeping i don't want to wake her up, especially because she's a nurse and just got off a 17 hour shift.

i wondered if my headphones were really more important than this girl getting sleep. i decided to go anyway, figuring if she was up i could finally get her name.

i trudged up the concrete steps to her house. a couple plants sat outside by the front door along with a doormat that read 'the witches coven.' i smirked, letting out a small giggle before lifitng it and finding the spare key. i slid it in and unlocked the door.

as soon as i step inside, i'm hit with the strong smell of vanilla. the house is beautiful, it's been carefully decorated, with deep blues and blacks and purples. to the left of me, is a big, but cozy looking living room, on the right is a huge kitchen with dark wooden panelling and in front of me is an open stairwell. assuming her bedroom is upstairs, i climb up the wide staircase, to an open loft type room that overlooks the living room. on the far side of it is a door that's halfway opened. i walk

over and peer into the room. there's a huge 4 post bed right in the middle of it, but it's empty. on the left, there's another door that's partially open. the smell of vanilla and honey is strong. i peer in, and see the girl from last night behind big glass doors, taking a shower.

shes washing her hair and freezes when she sees me standing there. she yelps, "what the fuck?! get out!"

i cant help but laugh as i rush out of the room. i wait right down the hall as i hear the shower turn off. she walks out of the bathroom in only a towel.

"theres something called knocking, by the way." she rolls her eyes, less pissed than i thought she'd be about my intrusion.

"i just stopped by to get my headphones, then ill be out of your hair." i say trying to control myself. i got a good look at her in the shower before she saw me. i saw her curves. i was the way her perky ass bounced as she danced to the low music, and the way her perfect breast moved with her body. and even watching her in a bulky towel is turning me on. i shift uncomfortabely, remembering i'm not wearing boxers.

i mentally scolded myself, trying to prevent my eyes from wandering any further than they already have. she raised her eyebrow at me. "ill go get them. stay here."

she turned and walked away. i watched intently as her hips swayed, showing off her amazing figure. my leg bounced as i tried to keep myself calm. how embarrassing would it be if she noticed my errection? yeah, maybe later. i fidgeted with my hands for a moment more before she came back. she was now wearing pajama shorts and a t-shirt, and i was ever so slightly dissapointed by the sudden outfit change. she wasn't wearing a bra because i could see her nipples -which i had seen fully when she was in the shower- poking out from beneath the fabric of her baggy shirt.

i don't realize i'm staring until she throws my headphones at me, "hey, jackass, here" i fumble them in my hands, trying to pick them up from the ground. she laughs, and she her laugh is so genuine, her voice is so smooth. "sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your staring," she says still laughing.

"my name's jake, by the way."

"what?"

"you called me jackass, my name's jake." i say feeling almost embarrassed.

she tilts her head to the side a little, like a confused puppy. "my name's y/n, jake. " she walks towards me and reaches out a hand for me to shake. i take it, hoping she doesn't realize i'm shaking. her hand are small in mine, and my mind wanders to what they'd feel like on my cock. the feel of it straining against the fabric of my sweatpants makes me rip my hand away.

"i gotta go home, my roommate is probably freaking out because i haven't made dinner. nice toy meet you properly, y/n."

"i'll walk you out."

"no!" i yell in a panic, "i mean, no it's fine, you need sleep and I need to go make dinner for my roommates. so goodnight." i say more calmly.

she looks almost disappointed, "oh, okay, thank you, goodnight Jake." i wave awkwardly as a turn and rush down the stairs, hoping she didn't see how much i was blushing and how hard i am.

i rush out of her house, practically sprinting up the steps of mine. i fumble with the lock before barging into the house. i run past the living where johnnie and carrington are splayed out, watching a movie.

"hey dude, do you want Post-" Carrington starts to ask.

"Nope, I'm tired, going to bed, if either of you wakes me up, you're dead." i rush up the stairs, and down the hall to my room. i open and slam the bedroom door behind me, trying to get my Converse off as fast as possible. i grab my phone and start texting some recent hookups, but none of them are free. I groan in frustration throwing my phone esomewhere near the foot of my bed.

i sigh, flopping onto my bed and climbing under the covers. i try to fall asleep but end up tossing and turning. I can't stop thinking about y/n, and what she tastes like. I can't stop thinking about what makes her cum the hardest. Accepting my fate, I find open my locked folder. but none of the nudes turn me on.

"fuck." i whisper.

i try to just think about the nudes and other hookups as i spit in my hand and bring it down to my now only half-hard cock. are you fucking kidding me? the nudes turned me off! i start pumping my hand hoping that i'll be able to finish. i rub my thumb along the tip of my cock. immediately an image flashes of y/n's mouth on it, swirling her tongue on the tip. it makes me let out an involuntary whimper. then more images flash of her on my dick, riding me, letting me fuck her, letting me eat her out, her riding my face. i move my hand up and down faster. little moans and whimpers leaving my mouth. i squeeze, adding more pressure as i picture my mouth around her rosy nipples. i throw my head back, squeezing my eyes shut as i pump faster.

"mmm, fuck!" i moan. "fuck, fuck fuck, Y/N" I yell her name as i cum hard in my hand. fuck, i just got off to a girl i barely know, to a stranger.

Y/Ns POV:

needless to say, i saw what he was attempting to hide. he was much bigger than you had thought. the thought of what he could do to me turned me on far more than i ever had been. i barely knew the guy, but something pulled me in more than id like to admit.

the more i thought about it, the more the ache between my legs became unbearable. as i laid in my bed scrolling, i couldnt help but rub my thighs together. as if i was thinking with my dick (when i have a pussy,) i pulled my pajama pants off without any further thought.

my hand slid into my panties, circling my clit slowly as i let out a low moan, "Jake-" i closed my eyes and imagined it was him touching me like this. although, my fingers definitely could not hit all the angles he could. i groaned at the thought, curling my fingers and scraping my g spot with each curl.

i sped up my fingers, wet sounds filling the room as i moaned out louder. i whimpered out his name and miscellaneous curses as i continued to imagine him; the face hed make when he reaches his climax, when your lips are around him, when hes deep down my throat.

i came around my fingers, but not as hard as i thought hed make me.

#fanfiction #fanfic #johnnie guilbert #jake and johnnie #jake webber #hearts4golbach #tara yummy #jake webber smut #johnnie and jake #jake webber x reader #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x you

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sacredcyber · 1 year

Text

I Think I Like When It Rains

A soft smutty SilverV oneshot, 3k words. A/n: fem V from a corpo background, nsfw.

The long trek towards her northside apartment was unusually silent and painfully dull. Normally Johnny's comments would be firing at a rapid pace. When can they start looking for Alt? Let him take control just for an evening, take a smoke break. Instead she found herself walking through night city alone, in the rain, shooting off random questions hoping it’d rouse him from whatever recess of her mind he’d hidden himself in. Nothing. No answers at all, not even a huff of frustration.

‘It’s fine.’ She thinks to herself. ‘It’ll be like that when he’s gone.’ And that thought brings out a burn in her throat. Something pained and sharp has burrowed itself in her chest and made itself home. V stops short at the corner about a block away, she leans against a light post and sighs.

‘You’re being weird again.’

It’s her voice but it’s not. The sudden realization dawns on her that Johnny could read her thoughts. It makes her feel exposed. She quickly runs the block home in the downpour, the rain soaking through her too big tank top and leather pants.

After fidgeting with the broken card reader, V stumbles inside her small apartment. The pink neon lighting and blue beaded curtains make it feel so homey, so lived in. She remembered the day she bought it, Johnny berated her about her lack of taste. V wanted to tell him about her luxury condo she had to give up when she got sacked, but a sudden wave of shame had washed over her and she simply answered with a small hum in agreement. Arasaka seems like a lifetime ago. Another life, another person, another V. Her Watson home was too painful to stay in after Jackie died, the memories of the both of them shooting the shit, Misty coming by after her shift with tacos and yakitori were all things of the past. The northside apartment had become like a sanctuary, she could be at peace here in this small shoebox of a room.

Just her, Nibbles and her tapeworm.

As she crosses the threshold, a friendly meow greets her. Nibbles jumps off the arcade cabinet and rolls on her back exposing her equally bald tummy. V chuckles and closes the door behind her, as she bends down to bless the feline with a generous scratch behind her ears, she can hear the familiar sound of Johnny’s static reappearing.

He groans and makes his way over towards the armory. V pretends not to notice him, not to be excited he’s left whatever shell he was in earlier. Instead she fishes out a pack of cat food for nibbles and walks over towards a small porcelain bowl.

Johnny immediately moves away and heads over to the bed, she watches him out of the corner of her eye. He’s a bit tense, wound up. As if he could sense her questioning gaze he simply lights up a cigarette. “I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” V asks incredulously. Johnny’s static form stutters a bit as he shifts himself onto her small bed. “Well actually you’re tired. I’m just feeling it too.” He mumbles. V makes a face, this fucking guy. “I thought engrams don’t need to sleep?” She stands and walks over towards him, his legs planted firmly on the linoleum floor. A heavy sigh escapes his lips. “You really gonna fight me over this? Fuck V...” The bite he normally has in his voice is mostly gone, Johnny sounds exhausted, miserable. She sighs, the day's events hadn’t been easy on them, the sudden rainstorm plus the non working fast travel pods around the city only added to her frustration. If only her car wasn’t in the shop, she could have just driven home.

Nope, it was just her trudging through the rain. Now she’s home, dripping wet and muscles aching. V sighs, there’s no fight in her, hell she’s not even hungry. All she wants is a hot shower and sleep. “You can sleep with me tonight.” She mumbles. Johnny looks up as V begins to turn away, “ I know you don’t need to but…”

“But what?” He asks, ready to tease her. “Someone’s eager to get me into bed.” He observes her as she slips her boots off.

“You seem…I don’t know…off? Quiet maybe.” She says before disappearing into the bathroom. Johnny scoffs, before he knows it he’s in the bathroom ready to argue.

“As if I-“ he begins before he stops himself. V stands topless in front of the shower, her wet samurai top already on the ground, her hands on her pants zipper. She raises an eyebrow. “What? Never seen tits before?” She turns around and begins to remove her pants, Johnny knows he should fuck off right now, give her some kind of privacy. But something’s compelling him to stay, see what happens, V doesn’t seem to mind it.

“Wasn’t expecting to see yours.” He chuckles. “Didn’t know my little corpo rat was an exhibitionist is all.” V turns the shower on trying not to focus on the “my little corpo rat” comment, he notices the way her breasts jiggle a bit, they’re bigger than he’s used to, Johnnys always had a penchant for petite women, V’s musculature had been a bit of a turn off for him, recently he’s been rethinking that.

She turns to face him and something in Johnny’s chest tightens. She’s bare, with nothing but his tags on. Something about that does it for him, maybe it’s her lack of aggression or just how intimate it feels. “Not gonna take those off too?” He lifts his cybernetic hand and places his fingertip onto the tag, V can feel slight pressure there. She cocks her head a bit, “I’ve never taken them off.” She says following his wandering hand as it travels from the tags to her navel. She can feel him and she doesn’t know how or why, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She doesn’t want to ruin it.

V makes a motion with her hand, “You coming in?” Johnny is a bit stunned, he’s not used to V being so nonchalant about contact. Normally she’s very cagey about him being near her. He doesn’t blame her, especially since their meeting was terrible. He’s conflicted, but the need for touch is overwhelming. “You want me to?” He asks, hesitation sprinkles his words. V nods. ‘Yes’ she thinks and so he follows.

V stands under the hot shower, the steam feels so comforting, like a warm blanket hugging her. As she stretches she can feel her back bump into something solid. As she reaches back Johnny catches her hand, his ganic hand gently caresses hers. She hesitates but turns to face him, he’s there naked as the day he was born, only with the addition of that familiar blue static. She studies him, he’s definitely handsome, not that she wanted to admit that but something about his little grin tells her he already knows that. Her eyes wander from his dark brown eyes to his sloped nose down to his happy trail, she lifts her head to face him, not wanting to focus on the obvious.

“You look like you got questions.” He murmurs. V looks for her shampoo. “Can you feel the water?” He nods. “Yeah, feels nice, I guess it feels nice to you.” He moves to stand under the shower head, it merely goes through him but V supposes it adds to the experience.

She grabs the coconut shampoo and begins to work up a lather. Her back is towards him, “Where did you go?” She asked. Johnny notices a slight hitch in her voice, he watches as she scrubs her scalp. He steps in and replaces her hands with his, lightly massaging the product into her hair. “Can’t exactly go anywhere…” he avoids the question. V steps under the shower head, her back pressed against Johnny's chest. He watches as the shampoo runs over her breasts down her toned stomach. His hands move from her scalp to the sides of her waist, before he grabs her and presses her firmly against him, his mouth pressed against her ear.

V presses harder against him, he feels so real, so solid against her skin. The only difference is the lingering fuzziness he gives off, maybe it’s the static. “You…didn’t answer my question.” She manages to mumble out, Johnny simply hums “I’m here now.” His metal hand traces down from her collarbone in between her breasts. V wants to prod him, demand he tell her why he left her alone with her thoughts but his touches are so reverent, so gentle.

“I was angry.”

She turns to face him, Johnny’s brown eyes scan her face, he looks vulnerable, soft, uncomfortable. She grabs his ganic hand and presses her face against it, his thumb strokes her cheek. “Did I do something?” He simply shakes his head, everything pisses Johnny off to some extent. The shitty weather, his PTSD, the way Fuckin’ Takemura and River give her those looks when she’s not paying attention. V used to piss him off too, her selflessness, the way she’d always get involved in shit that didn’t concern her, her kindness. Her ability to just give parts of herself to anyone in need.

Now he’s before her, a starved man seeking it out for himself. He hesitates and leans down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. V slowly allows herself to be soft, to be open for him. Love isn’t something you come across in Night City, it’s something you buy for an hour or two. But this isn’t that, this is something else, something that’s needed by both of them.

His kisses are rough, they’re desperate for dominance, to lay a claim on her. She can feel how needy he is, the way his hands press into her bruised back, how his fingers find those sore spots and rub into them. V lets out small pained cries, as she opens her mouth Johnny simply probes deeper. He wants all her sounds and cries, all of them. The good and the bad.

“V…” he whispers, her bitten lips skimming over his down to his neck, she bites into him like forbidden fruit and such as original sin she knows she’s crossed over into temptation. That pained thing that burrowed into her earlier is now growing between her ribs and it flutters so gently she can barely breathe.

How strange.

Johnny grabs V’s face and pulls it to meet his gaze. He wants to see her, needs to see her face when he’s worshiping her. Her eyes are hazed over, glazed in want and desperate for release. He plants more swollen kisses on her lips. “Let’s go to bed.” He whispers hungrily. V turns off the shower and grabs a towel. “Let’s go to bed?” She begins to towel herself off. Johnny simply grins and reappears sitting on the bed, he can see her though the beaded curtains and even though he’s mapped out her curves and scars with his fingers it’s still exciting to see only bits of her behind the blue plastic beads. Like a private show meant only for him, something no one else can have.

Because how could they? No one knows her like he does, no one ever could.

V emerges from the bathroom, her hips sway a bit as she closes in on Johnny’s personal space. “Sit on the bed.” He whispers in that whiskey’d tone. She does as instructed and immediately he appears on the floor in front of her, kneeling. Johnny’s not used to being subservient, but it feels so natural with V, so easy. Like he doesn’t have to be that “rowdy asshole rockerboy” everyone wanted. He’s simply Johnny, touch starved, pent up, needy Johnny.

He slowly trails his fingers over V’s thighs, it makes her shiver under his touch. “Know how frustrating it is watching you play nice with a pig and a corpo dog?” His tone is dangerous with a veneer of playfulness. V raises herself up on her elbows, she watches as Johnny kneads her inner thighs.

“Has Johnny Silverhand always been the jealous type?”

He chuckles, “Possessive might be the better word.” He spreads her legs out further and places a wet kiss on her clit. Her hips buck into his face a bit. “Fuck…” she gasps out. Johnny chuckles “Not yet, I wanna have some fun first.”

His ganic fingers circle her entrance, she’s already wet and dewy but he’s never been one to half ass eating someone out. He doesn’t want to rush anything. “Thinkin’ real hard down there, silverhand?” V’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Her half lidded stare and the way she runs her fingers through his tangled hair makes him feel alive again.

“I need you to ride my face.” Before V can protest or tease, Johnny’s already teleported under her. He’s taken the liberty to spread her legs as she precariously balances over his face. She holds on to the wall in front of her. “I-I’ve never done thi-“ Johnny licks a swipe over her clit and she shudders.

“Just relax.” He says as plants a tender kiss on her entrance. “Don’t think, just do.” He presses her wet cunt onto his lips as he moves her hips in rhythm. V holds onto the wall in front of her trying to set a pace for herself, worried she might hurt him.

‘You won’t, trust me. Ride my fuckin face like a cowgirl.’

Before she can even ask what the hell that means, his tongue makes its way inside her. “Oh fuck yes…” she moans as her hips move against him, her clit brushing up against his nose and moustache. Johnny holds her down even tighter against his face, sucking and tongue fucking his way through his host. He wants to make her see stars, to become so undone by his mouth alone that even after death, she’s ruined by him.

“Johnny…john- I’m gonna…” her hips swivel in that familiar way, her pussy tightens around his tongue, she’s looking for it, searching for release. He removes his tongue and replaces it with his fingers relentlessly pounding into her. “Come on V just let it go baby…” he holds her hips and presses his lips onto her stomach as she fucks herself above him. “Goddamn…fuck yes yessss…” she sighs as her climax washes over her.

V wobbles a bit as her legs give out on her. Thankfully Johnny teleports and reappears to help steady herself. She’s on the precipice of sleep, yet it doesn’t stop her from trying to crawl into his lap. He laughs a bit “what are you doin’?” V presses up against him, his cock nestled between her puffy lips.

“I wanna sleep on you like this.” She moves her hips and positions his cock at her entrance. Johnny watches as V slides herself on his thick cock, his girth makes it sting so deliciously. Johnny grins and lays back in bed with V content and filled on his chest. He spreads her legs out over him and slowly fucks into her. He throbs with each stroke.

“This how you want me inside you every night?” He asks, his lips hovering over her ear as he caresses her sore lower back with his metal hand. “Get home from running around this city? Fixing everyone’s fuckin’ problems…” He whispers in her ear as he continues to slowly pump himself inside her. Agonizingly slow.

“That’s what you want right? You want someone to take care of you too.” He grips her hips and plunges himself deep into her core. V calls out for him, begging him to go faster but he relents. “Nah, I wanna savor this, wanna make sure it only fits me from now on.” He bites her harshly and with intent. Savoring the wet sounds they share between them.

“How do you think people would feel? Knowin’ Night City’s golden girl is getting dicked down by the dirty old man living in her head?” He punctuates his question with another harsh thrust. V mewls against him and sobs “t-they wouldn’t….get it!” His pace begins to pick up as he holds her down and fucks into her used hole.

“That’s right, they wouldn’t…but we get it, right baby?” His forehead touches hers as he continues to fuck into her.

“Y-yeah…”

“Yeah? Because we belong to each other. From the day I met you, you’ve been mine, all fuckin’ mine…” he grips her throat with his metal hand and keeps a brutal pace. It’s a strange feeling, the agony and ecstasy of relishing in unhinged coitus, of bearing your ugliness out on the same table you fuck your lover on. It’s liberating because he knows what she’s thinking. There’s no guessing games, he doesn’t feel any fear, no hesitation, just complete and utter synchronicity.

Johnny knows he’s needs it and fuck if V also needs this as well. So he fucks her hard into completion, into submission, into a promise. A silent accord, for as long as they have each other. To have and to hold, to fuck and to kill, however the hell people pledge themselves to each other in this day and age. His very soul belongs to her.

The silence between them is comforting, only the sounds of rain drizzling outside and nibbles playing with the beaded curtains next to the minibar. V slides over to lay on his ganic arm, his heartbeat, his warmth, feels real. She shuts her eyes tight and holds onto him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if she let him go.

A whisper floats through her mind, “I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. He can feel her smile and press herself closer to him, less out of fear and more out of need. He lays and watches the ceiling fade from view, letting sleep take him for the first time in over 50 years.

#johnny silverhand #female v #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cyberpunk2077 #my fic #oneshot #silverV #Johnny x female v #johnny silverhand x reader #I wrote this for me but y’all can read it too💖

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updownlately · 1 year

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stars through the window (they light up our disco)

| leah williamson x reader | fluff (just pure softness) | 1.5k | inspo: when you're home by tyler shaw. | a/n: this was supposed to be short and sweet, but it turns out despite my height, shortness is not a strength of mine. if you haven't heard the song before, definitely check it out, it's lovely! and if you have, see if you can count how many lyrics i sneaked in :)

~~~

Your insistence on getting an apartment with huge windows had frustrated Leah throughout your initial apartment hunt. You both were footballers with your lives constantly being the topic of interest of the media and the internet, no hint of privacy in the public world. Leah didn’t want to give them direct access to your most personal moments too. However, when it eventually became a heated topic that the two of you would butt heads on not only during any showing with your realtor, but over meals and downtime, Leah had decided that it wouldn’t be worth the risk of potentially losing you. Plus, she figured she could always purchase a nice set of black out curtains in order to keep away prying eyes. Letting you win, the decision to choose an apartment had become ever so slightly easier (the clear joy on your face had been a good reward too), the pair of you eventually deciding on one that fit all the requirements, a house that was ready to become a home.

And while she wouldn’t tell you this, in this moment, Leah was glad that she had gone along with your terms in that initial disagreement. The both of you were currently in said apartment, a soft playlist filling the room through the numerous hidden speakers in the living room as each of you quietly did your own thing. It was just a little after dinner that you had suggested turning off the lights in the apartment and playing some music to help the two of you relax. Between the flurry of games and practices you both had had, it was safe to say the downtime of the past day-off had been a blessing.

While you and Leah played together for Arsenal, her duties as a key face of the Gunners’ women’s team and England often led to much of your time spent away from each other. Nights like these, where you got to spend the evening together, gently watching over London as the city began to head to bed, the two of you basking in the presence of each other, contentedly present, were some of your favourites.

You were laying on the sofa reading, the light of the sunset shining through the near-completely glass wall illuminating your book, whilst Leah was sprawled on the arm chair next to you, the evident sounds of overplayed songs coming from her phone signifying her doom-scroll of TikTok.

It was when dusk started to turn into night, just under an hour later, that you gave up on trying to progress any further in your story, the waning light too faint to make out the words that littered the paper. Bored and missing your girlfriend, you padded over to Leah, gently taking her phone out of her hands and placing it on the coffee table that rested near you.

“Leah…I’m bored. I was enjoying my book and then the light started fading,” you whined, settling yourself in her lap, arms coming around her neck, head on her shoulder.

Placing a delicate kiss on the exposed part of your neck, Leah pulled you closer, her hands finding home on your waist.

“How dare the sun set and the day turn to night, hmm? It’s a shame we don’t have any means to light the inside of our home,” she joked, causing you to gently smack her shoulder from where you rested (not an easy feat, given the two of you were positioned lengthwise in the single seat).

“I’m bored. Entertain me,” you pleaded. “Please.”

Tucking her head your shoulder in response, Leah blindly reached for your phone from your pocket, turning up the volume of the music ever so slightly and changing the playlist from your current acoustic covers to one that she had made for the two of you once the device was in her hands.

“I have a few ideas on what we can do,” she smirked, pulling back and meeting your eyes.

Recognizing the glint in your girl’s eyes, you had just leaned in to kiss the blonde, lips merely centimetres away, when Leah deviously decided it was the perfect time to get up and prepare for her little activity. Her hands moved to your thighs to make sure you wouldn’t fall as she picked you up with herself, moving quicker than normal to tease you, your shrieks echoing in the room at the unexpected movement.

Carefully setting you on the floor, Leah made quick work of moving the coffee table to the side, creating room for a faux dance floor in the middle of your living room, as you looked on in confusion.

When Leah turned to you, hand outstretched in the space between you two, the streetlights illuminating her soft smile ever so angelically, you extended your own, intertwining the two, binding the skin of your hands.

You let the blonde pull you into her, stepping into her space, your bodies pressed close together.

A bashful smile on her face, Leah took a moment to appreciate you, in awe of the way you so effortlessly stood in front of her, a golden glow on your face, no doubt due to the stars shining through the window. (She secretly hoped she’d get this view again, but in a different setting, where hopefully the pair of you would wear white, sunlight streaming down on you two).

Wrapping up her admiring, Leah took note of the perplexed look on your face, quickly choosing to put you out of your misery.

“Let’s put on a show?” She asked shyly. “Dance with me?”

You couldn’t help but grin at the Englishwoman standing in front of you. It wasn’t rare that Leah let her soft, romantic side show, yet each time, it left you just as elated as the first time. The stone cold captain on the field seemed to turn to mush in your presence, your teammates never failing to remind you both of the way you had the midfielder wrapped around your pinkie.

“Lead the way m’lady,” you winked, smiling lightly to yourself, finally realising that Leah had put on the playlist of love songs she had made for you.

The pair of you slowly danced, swaying to the music as the stars outside faintly lit your disco. Words unsaid, Leah held on to you tighter, slowly guiding you through a waltz and spinning you so gracefully before tenderly pulling you back, impossibly closer to her.

You weren’t one to dance, often joking to yourself that you had two left feet and that any use of footwork was better left on the pitch for you. Yet, here you couldn’t help but follow Leah’s footsteps, trusting her to lead you both, trusting her trust in you. And when Leah looked into your eyes, asking for permission to dip you down, you could only whisper her name, nodding ever so slightly, confident that she’d catch you, knowing for certain that she wouldn’t let you fall, at the very least, not on your own, not by yourself. Whether it be four feet or three on the floor, you knew she’d be there for you, just like she had every step of the way since the start.

As song after song played, the two of you moved delicately around the makeshift stage, eyes and hands not once leaving the other. With each waltz after waltz, spin, and dip, you knew that if paradise was on Earth, it would be here, in your apartment, as the pair of you silently spoke your affection for the other with each second that passed.

And when tired feet led you to sit down, cuddled up on the couch, wrapped in your love for each other, FIFA illuminating the rest of the room, Leah knew that the windows that she hated in the apartment that she loved had grown on her. The way the passing rays lit up your face, bathing you in an ethereal glow was a heavenly sight to see, one that she wished on any and every shooting star that she’d get to see for the rest of her life.

Your shared apartment that had been gently crafted into a home, was nothing but a skeleton, a shell of a safe haven, if it didn’t have the two of you. The love shared between you two overflowing, seeping into the cracks, filling them with delight and affection. As long as it had you both, you knew that it would be all you’d ever need, and everything you’d ever want. The best thing in your lives had only started, a whole future waiting for you ahead. A future full of you two together, coupled with friends and family, and a sky full of love, where life couldn’t get much better than this dreamland turned reality, a present in the night that passed.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #fluff #x reader #reader insert #my writing #fic #sttw #leah williamson

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themonotonysyndrome · 4 months

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Ě̸̡̞̱̘̹̮̫͚̯͍͕̟̪͂̀̋̉̾͛̂̑̅͜͝c̴̢̺̟̣̠̤̽͋͒̄̄͂̆̿͗̑̊̒̒̕ḧ̷͇͍͉͉̺͈͙́̀͆̀̒̒̅̒͒̔̽ó̶͔̜̓͛̓̂̔̆͌́͆̉͂͘͝͠es of regrets

So! I saw this post from @rivyx (if you like, I can untag you. Just wanna give credit where credit is due):

And I thought:

"Man. It's been a while since I broke my own heart. Oh! Angst between Geordi and Cutie? How about I make Geordi regret for making Cutie believe that they need to multiate and hide the magical part of themselves and even the Empowered world because he doesn't understand a Telepath's needs?"

Hence. This oneshot. Shout out to @moonandstarlightsposts for helping me come up with the title!

(Yes. Yes. I know. Cutie was canonically at fault, too. I just wanna focus on Geordi regretting his actions for a change.)

Summary: Second chances come and go. But for Geordi and Cutie, perhaps they should have let it go by.

First comes the awkwardness.

It’s to be expected. A break was decided - no, needed - for the both of them after… well. No point in digging up bad memories. The two of them were heading down a dangerous spiral, and Geordi could no longer ignore the red flags. He’d been through too much to drown in toxicity and abuse again. Whether his partner realised it or not. And that’s the part that crushed his heart. A heart that Geordi painstakingly put back together with liquid gold and long nights of tearful frustrations. He told them about Ben. He told them how his ex callously disregarded his boundaries. And Cutie just -

Therapy was something they agreed to during their break. Geordi needed to address old trauma that re-open like wounds and Cutie -

‘I… I hope this isn’t me coming across as presumptuous, but one of my coworkers is a really good therapist. I think you’ll like him! His name is Cam - ’

‘I still have my old therapist’s number. Um. Thanks, though.’

‘O-Oh! Right. Of course. I should’ve thought of that. I just… never mind.’

That was the last text that Cutie sent. Even after they moved out of his apartment, the two continued to exchange careful messages with one another, awkwardly making sure not to step on each other’s landmines. However, as days gone by, the texts became more and more superficial: ’Morning. Have you eaten?’. ‘Just cereal. Thanks for checking up on me.’ ‘The weather forecast mentioned a thunderstorm. Don’t forget an umbrella, ok?’. When Cutie brought the subject of therapists to the table -

The texts stopped after that.

Geordi had no idea how lonely his existence truly was without Ben and Cutie. The two-bedroom apartment became too big. He cooked too much for a single person. His left side felt too exposed whenever his coworkers dragged him out for drinks and karaoke. It hurts. He has a habit of rubbing his left arm nowadays.

His therapist is a kind woman, the kind that has laugh lines all over her face. Older than him, more at ease with her place in the world, unlike Geordi. She never judges him whenever he finds the courage to unravel before her. Ugly, jagged broken pieces for a heart. Gold and bitter tears for the next few months.

Soon, a year passes.

Something settled within Geordi then. New foundations were built. The world is a little less lonely now that he has opened up to his coworkers, reached out to some cousins on phones and slowly put himself out there again. He had fallen in love with building LEGOs recently. A hobby that happily kept him occupied while a slow, reverb version of Evil by Melanie Martinez plays in the background of the living room.

It took a while, but he finally reached a point and mental headspace to put Cutie back into the equation.

His therapist's words constantly echo in his head, grounding him whenever his fingertips run on the rim of their favourite mug, red with little ladybugs on the ceramic. Witty, funny, confident, mischievous and kind - Cutie’s best would always outshine their worst in Geordi’s eyes. Perhaps that’s why he subconsciously ignores the raising red flags the more and more they tested his boundaries. Anyway, being with Cutie brought out the best of Geordi in return, which he never even knew existed. He loved them, plain and simple. He loves learning about them and their world every day of the week. He was so happy and content whenever they were in his arms. Growing old together was something he thought about when they drove back home from his folks’. Cutie was fast asleep, with their head gently resting against the window of the car. That moment was magical in its own way.

Geordi misses them. His incredible, one-of-a-kind partner.

He thinks about them more often than not nowadays, wondering how therapy is going for them. Had they fallen in love with any new hobbies? Did Cutie make any new friends outside of the Department? If so, he wonders what they’re like.

Thoughts turn to yearning. Yearning turns to Geordi, picking up his phone and texting Cutie first for once.

‘Hey. Good morning. How are you?’

The two of them never used to be awkward when they were a couple. Feeling hopeful, Geordi puts aside his phone as he continues about his day. Fixing himself a hearty lunch using a recipe that he can’t wait to share with Cutie and goes about doing the laundry afterwards. It’s only after his evening shower that a notification lights up on his phone screen.

‘Hey. I’m alright. You?’

Superficial. That’s OK, though. Geordi is not giving up.

The two resume texting every day soon enough as if the distance weren’t ever there. It makes him happy to be updated with every little thing that is going on in Cutie’s life. He spams GIFs and emojis at every picture they share and they, in return, slowly start to send over recorded audio of their little laughter and quips. It makes him miss them all the more. Enough to replay those audios over and over again whenever he can’t sleep at night. During those nights, his phone would always be on the right side of the bed.

Texting eventually evolves to calling when Geordi wakes up from a rather bad nightmare. Something so vague that it slipped from the recess of his conscious as he panted for air. Without even thinking about it, he presses on a familiar number. His call is answered almost immediately.

“Geordi? Why are you awake around this hour?”

Relief floods into his very being. They once fondly tease him that, no, their voice isn’t magic. Unlike Vampires and their special eyes, Telepaths specialised in minds instead. It’s his love that makes their voice special and it’s love that dispels the lingering nightmare.

“Geordi?” Cutie’s voice is hesitant at the end of the line. “Is everything ok? Do you have someone nearby that you can call for help?”

“No! No, no. I’m fine.” Comes his quick assurance. The shirt that he brought to sleep is drenched in sweat. His hair is matted to his forehead. He feels gross, and yet he doesn’t want to put Cutie on loudspeaker while he cleans himself up. “I just… really miss you. So much.”

Cutie’s reply is a whisper, “I-I miss you too. Can I ask if that’s the reason why you called me?”

“Yeah… had a nightmare; can’t remember what it was about. What I do remember is how you used to bring me to the kitchen, and you’d make warm chocolate milk for the both of us to help. You’d then talked me through it, helped me calm me down. Did I ever thank you for that? Thank you, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. I like taking care of you. And, uh, you did thank me. Always.”

Geordi lets out a ragged sigh. Those happy moments were just what he needed. “Did I wake you up? I didn’t mean to.”

“Nah, you’re good. I was doing some leftover documents for an assignment.”

Cutie never used to stay up past midnight. They like to sleep early whenever they can due to how mentally, emotionally, and physically taxing their job as an intel extraction officer can be. Cutie often rants about how the Department inefficiently run things, especially when it comes to bureaucracy. Perhaps this is one of their new habits? Speaking of which -

“How’s work treating you? Did you get that promotion?”

“Work’s alright. Are you feeling better now?”

Well, his heart was no longer racing, that’s for sure. But he still wants to hear their voice even through the static. “Like magic. You’re always the perfect cure for everything.” He waits for Cutie to laugh in that out-of-breath sort whenever he compliments them. Light and carefree.

Instead, they hum.

“Glad to hear it. Are you going to try and go back to sleep?”

“Only when you are, Cutie.” Geordi tries to flirt and perhaps coax them to rest for the evening.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll go to bed in a bit. Um. If that’s all - ”

Perhaps it’s because the nightmare that he can no longer recall had something to do with Cutie. Perhaps it’s because he hasn’t heard their voice properly in so, so long. Whatever it is, it gave Geordi a burst of courage. He quickly asks before Cutie can hang up, “Wait, wait! Can I see you, Cutie? I just want to talk. Please?” He swallowed thickly. “I think we’re ready to discuss about… us.”

A thoughtful silence from Cutie.

“I’d like that. Where do you want to meet up?”

Geordi’s night becomes much sweeter after that. They talk and plan until his eyes grow heavy and Cutie’s documents are filed away. They even put him on loudspeaker and brought him to the bathroom so they could continue talking while they showered. God, the sounds of running water alone fill him with wants and images. He can’t stop picturing himself in that shower with them. So you can’t blame how incredibly giddy Geordi is when he finally sees Cutie walk up to the cafe the next day. They offered him a small smile as they made themselves comfortable across the table. Healthy and rocking a new fashion style when Geordi is busy absorbing every little detail about them. He could honestly stare at them like a work of art in the Louvre.

“So I’m here…” Cutie says rather unnecessarily. They scratch their cheek nervously. “You wanted to talk?”

He snaps out of a daze. Shit, he got distracted by his thoughts! For a split second, Geordi can’t help but wonder if they heard his inner ramblings. Judging by Cutie’s guarded expression, he lets out a sigh of relief. It sets his heart at ease to learn about this new side of Cutie. “Yeah. Thanks for agreeing to meet up with me. You look… god, Cutie. You look amazing.”

“Thanks! You’re not too bad on the eye yourself.” Cutie’s smile is wider now. “We’ve practically caught up to speed with each other lives for a while now. So, this is it. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it this time. I promise.”

That assurance dissolves any doubts that Geordi might have harboured. He’s more sure about his next few words than ever before. “I still want us to be together, Cutie. That never changed. Even when we were on a break, I had no one else. I love you, even when you broke my heart. Do you… do you still feel the same?”

Cutie reaches out to hold his hand, which is gripping a fork so tightly. He didn’t even realise it. The moment when skin meets skin, a familiar warmth spread across his arm. It’s like sunshine thawing out the chills in his bone marrow. He lets go of the fork in favour of holding their hand and squeezes it. “My feelings haven’t changed too. I love you so damn much, Geordi. I know I said it before, but I’m so sorry for hurting you. Words alone aren’t enough to promise you that I won’t do it again, but I’ll make sure my actions make up for it. From now on, you’ll lead where this relationship is going. I’ll follow” Steely determination glimmers behind Cutie’s eyes. God, they look so hot! Would his therapist finally judge him if he asked Cutie to drag him to the bathroom for a quickie? It’s been too long since they’re in him.

“Geordi? Are you ok? You look flush.” Some of that hesitation creeps back into Cutie. Dimming that spark of fire. He panics when their hand tugs back.

“Yeah! Sorry. My head’s a bit of a mess.” He begins to explain. Here, he lowered his voice; his eyes lidded. “Maybe you can make sense of it? You might like what you find, Cutie…”

“Oh!” For some reason, Cutie looks positively alarmed. A deer in a headlight. He had never seen that kind of look on their face before. Their sudden reaction threw Geordi off guard. Any lustful thoughts are completely replaced with concern now. “Maybe later. So, uh, where do we go from here? I can’t move back in just yet due to my apartment lease. Or do you want things to stay as they are right now for a little while longer?”

Continue this distance between them? Geordi doesn’t think he’s that strong of a man.

“Feel free to move in any time you can. My place is your home. You know that.”

That gorgeous smile slowly returns. This is Cutie at their best. After that day, things begin falling into place without a hitch. Cutie is back in his life. They bring their clothes and toiletries over when their lease is up -

“You kept my mug?”

“Of course I did, silly. Why would I throw it out?”

“Right… right. Sorry.”

“Cutie? Is something wrong?”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Say, that recipe you bookmarked earlier, why don’t you let me take a crack at it? I’ll handle dinner tonight!”

- their routines fall into one once more, and Geordi couldn’t be happier. His world is no longer filled with silence and bitterness.

Second comes the realisation.

Geordi has been riding high on cloud nine ever since Cutie settled back into his apartment, into his life. Waking up to their sleeping face feels like a dream that he never wants to end. Their giggling when he rouses them with kisses is a bonus. He loves greeting the morning sun with a partner who is happy and satiated from the night before. And if Cutie is in the mood to play? Well! He’s more than happy to ruin the sheets for the third time in the span of six hours.

And don’t even get him started on domestic bliss.

Since Cutie’s work hours are a lot more flexible than Geordi’s, he’s forever grateful that they always have a pot of hot coffee ready for him on the table and a sweet kiss before he dashes out for the day. If he returns before traffic picks up in the evening, the couple would either go out for a dinner date or stay at home and binge-watch a new series while they eat in the living room. They alternate in cooking and cleaning depending on their schedule, but Cutie seems to have a habit of doing both whenever they can. The coworkers that he invited over for DnD sessions would whistle and nudge him on the shoulder when they looked around the spotless apartment, praising him for scoring the perfect partner after Cutie left them with a tray of snacks and drinks. Internally, Geordi preens.

When the weekends roll around, and it’s just the two of them lazying together in their sweats and old t-shirts, Geordi and Cutie would spend time together by combining their new hobbies. Geordi would lose himself in another LEGO building project while Cutie reads a novel on their phone on the couch. His favourite playlists play on and on, wrapping the couple in a peaceful cocoon.

That is until -

Geordi blinks, back in the present, when he suddenly hears the sliding door of the balcony softly shut. He sees Cutie outside talking on the phone, their back against him. He watches them moving their free hand animatedly for a few seconds longer before focusing back on the tower that he had been building. When the sliding door shuts again, he absentmindedly asks, “Hey, Cutie? What are you in the mood for lunch? Do you want to go to that Chinese restaurant down the street or…” His words trail off the moment he notices the frustrated lines on his partner's forehead. Their eyes were exhausted all of a sudden. Before he could say anything, his partner flashed an apologetic smile.

“Work called. Something came up. I need to step out in a bit, but I should have some time to make lunch - ”

Geordi stops them right there and then. He doesn’t want them to get more stressed out, especially when an emergency - he assumed - just happened. “No, no. Don’t sweat it. How about you go get ready while I make us lunch? I’d rather you have something in your stomach before you leave.” He replies, already up on his feet.

Deer in a headlight on Cutie. Again. What’s going on? “I can do it. It’s your rest day after all - ”

“Nu-uh. You just get your pretty ass in the shower, alright? I’ll have your favourites ready as soon as you step out of our bedroom door again.” Geordi assures them, but in reality? He’s so confused. They never so stressed out about cooking before. Seriously, what’s going on?

Cutie eventually nods. They kiss him on the cheek and make a beeline for the bathroom while Geordi takes out a wok and spatula. Their strange behaviour remains in his mind as he makes spicy stir-fry noodles. Now that he thinks about it, they’ve been going along with everything he likes nowadays. Cooking his favourite meals, making sure the laundry is clean and folded, helping him with the LEGOs, hanging out with his friends and letting him initiate intimacy and sex every time. They laugh when he tells jokes, as cheesy as they are. Apart from their clothes and toiletries, they haven’t brought back their Digimon plushies, or any of their physical books on the shelves. They hate horror movies, but when he absentmindedly suggests they watch Saint Maud, they agree without any hesitation.

It’s like they’re a satellite, faithfully orbiting Geordi’s every need and want. Why… why did he never notice that before? And when was the last time they went out to Cutie’s favourite restaurant again? When was the last time they did what Cutie wanted for a change?

Ah. Geordi remembers now. It was before they went on a break.

Something’s wrong with Cutie. Shit! Why didn’t he notice it before!? Was he truly caught up in his own world that he utterly neglected his partner’s?

The noodles are hot and plated, ready on the table, but Geordi feels so cold and empty. Guilt was heavy in his stomach. His grin is stiff when Cutie finally emerges wearing their standard work fit. Even in black slacks and a white collared shirt, Cutie looks like a model ready for the runway. They tuck into their meal, but Geordi doesn’t have much appetite for it. So many thoughts clash with one another in his head like angry hornets. He doesn’t even know where to start or what to ask. At times like this, Cutie would slip into his mind and act as his anchor. But ever since they got back together again -

“What time would you be coming home?” Is what comes out from Geordi’s lips, frustrated with himself.

Cutie stops washing their dishes to turn around. “If all goes well? In the evening. Probably before midnight, so you don’t have to wait up or put aside dinner for me. I can just grab something when I leave the office.”

And that’s another thing that Geordi just now realised. They don’t talk about work as much as they did before. When asked, sure, Cutie would always answer him, but it was never more than a, “Oh, my cases? Some old, same old.”, “These documents are pretty boring, actually. Something for the higher-ups to keep in their record.”, “The therapist I mentioned before? Oh, you mean Cam? He’s still working on the floor above mine.” Lukewarm. Tepid. Those are the kinds of replies that Cutie would often give him before the conversation seamlessly shifts to another topic.

Not once have they performed magic around him. In fact, ever since they got back together again, Cutie’s voice is constantly absent in his mind.

Suddenly, Geordi feels sick. He forces himself to put on a brave face, a mask that tells his partner that everything is alright, because their eyebrows begin to furrow in hesitation.

And now he knows why.

“Call me when you leave?” Geordi tries not to plead. His voice didn’t crack, that good. The last thing he wants is to get the love of his life in trouble with their superiors. They never did tell him if they received that promotion or not.

It’s a bittersweet victory when Cutie smiles again. “Sure! Have fun with your project, baby.”

They exchange a long kiss; he wonders if they find it weird that Geordi is reluctant to pull their lips away from him. He weeps and weeps into his hands when they leave the apartment. What has he done? Oh god, Cutie… he didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to drive them into cutting a part of themselves in order to make him happy. He didn’t mean to be so blinded when they made themselves smaller and smaller if that’s what they thought would make him happy. Would let them stay in his life.

He didn’t mean to hurt Cutie. He didn’t mean for any of this to happen! He thought that - he had hoped they got better, not - why couldn’t they just talk - has he become Ben?

Mrs Potato Head plays on and on while Geordi struggles to breathe.

Finally, in comes the heartbreak.

Geordi didn’t even wait for Cutie to come back. The moment he regained control of himself, he ran out with his phone and wallet. His eyes are rimmed-red, just like the setting sun behind him. He knows which streets are veiled against people like him; he just hopes he can ask for help from any Empowered folks who might be entering the Department. He has to fix this. He desperately needs to talk to Cutie. He needs them to know that he loves every part of them, that he loves the magical world as much as they do.

However, when he cuts through the park, he freezes.

Sitting on a bench a little further from the playground is his partner, crying in the arms of a stranger. Cracks begin to form in Geordi’s heart. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but judging from how the stranger does the talking and Cutie sighs and sniffles, it clued him in pretty quickly that they’re talking through him via telepathy. The stranger smiles sadly and offers them a handkerchief. His body language is serene, but the expression on his beautiful face is tight and worried. Is he a coworker? Another lover? Geordi doesn’t know what to believe anymore. Stricken, he watches them pat the stranger’s hand and gathers up their things. Leaving him on the bench as Cutie makes their way out of the park.

It’s at that moment that Geordi’s phone rings. He answers the call without a word.

“Hey, baby. Just left the office.” Cutie’s voice is hoarse. They clear their throat. This time, they sound more like themselves again - fake and bright. “Turns out one of the interns needed a stand-in instructor for tomorrow’s fieldwork. Since I’m on the way home, do you want me to grab anything?”

Geordi watches them wait at the same bus stop from which he just got off. “Why haven’t you talked to me through my head?”

“…Geordi, I’m out right now. Can we maybe talk about this at home?”

“OK. Why have you stopped ironing your work clothes with your hands?”

“I-I like using your new iron instead. What’s going on, Geordi? Did I do something wrong? Look, tell me how I can fix it, please? I don’t… I don’t know what I did wrong…”

Is this how it will always be when they’re together? Hurting each other whether they mean to or not? Acts of love turning into subservience?

The weaker side of him can’t help but wonder if it was a mistake for him and Cutie to get back together again if it means new sorrows and new regrets will always sour their relationship.

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #fanfic #angsty #redacted geordi #redacted cutie #redacted camelopardalis

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