#started this project in high school. its been a long time coming.

[badlydrawnhermitcraft]

a happy new years hermit and hermitfans! and also, a goodbye.

so. its over six years since i started posting silly little low effort doodles of the hermits to this account. i originally started it as to not spam my main.

but sadly, at some point along the way, it started feeling more like a chore than something i did for fun.

especially with my leaving twitter on my main, i decided its finally time to properly retire this project. (this tumblr is just a mirror of the twitter) what better to end it with than a redraw of my first ever "big" piece for the account. where it started to not become so low effort anymore.

and don't worry, im not "leaving the fandom", just this project and this website. you can find me at AvivaKitty on bsky and youtube, and concorp on tumblr.

so not really a goodbye, but a see you around. thanks for enjoying this silly little account. <3

[klausinamarink]

based on this hilarious video with Gianmarco Soresi whom I’ve been watching his comedy work for a few months now

read on ao3

“What do you do?” The standup of the hour - the guy had introduced himself as Eddie - points at Steve.

Flustered at the attention directing every eye in the club to his table, Steve tries not to stammer as he answers, “Well, uh, I make movies.”

“Oh!” Eddie genuinely looks interested. “So you’re a director?”

“Yeah, pretty much. At least I started out as an indie, but I have a big project that’s out and a couple more on the way.” One table nearby claps and Steve tries to wave them off to stop.

“So what was that big project? Was it something we would’ve seen?” Eddie repositions himself so he has one leg up on the stool. Steve stares at how lean they seem with the tight black jeans. He’s got them daddy long legs. His brain suddenly burps out and it nearly makes Steve lose his composure.

“Uh, ha, I did The Final Bat. It’s on Shudder.” Steve shrugs nonchalantly, perfectly hiding his internal cringe. The horror genre is way out of his league and Steve’s already seen The Final Bat being on a few critical lists damning the title as another cliche-filled mess. He only did it because he had finally caved to Dustin’s pleading to make at least one horror movie.

Eddie, on the other hand, seems ecstatic by this revelation. “No way! That’s sick, dude! So the next time you make a horror flick, you’re gonna watch Blumhouse and A24 coming in at each other with steel chairs for distribution rights.”

Everyone laughs, including Robin. She smacks on Steve’s bicep with a wide grin. He smacks her back before he turns back to Eddie and clarifies, “I don’t like horror! I’m not doing it again!”

Aghast, Eddie throws an invisible hat to the ground and stamps on his feet. “Come on! Then what’s the point of watching the studios bite each other’s dicks off when you’re slipping out to watch - I don’t know - the Barbie movie! Now they’re just fighting for the next shitty horror movie to exist!”

Steve covers his mouth but fails to hold back in the laughter. Eddie’s infectious energy is starting to get to him. It makes his chest clench with something other than the usual pains.

Eddie patiently waits for the patrons to quiet down before continuing, still attentive to Steve, “I’m just wondering actually if you ever done theater class.”

“Sure did! Two years in high school,” Steve confirms.

“Let me guess, they did Hamlet?” Eddie raises an eyebrow like it’s meant to be accusatory.

“Yep, soon after I joined.” Steve nods, the memory of that production flashing before his eyes. It had its ups and downs but it was one of the most fun things Steve had ever experienced.

“No wonder they started as soon as your handsome ass walked in the club.” Eddie says low and flirtatiously into the microphone, staring directly into Steve’s eyes. It echoes across the room and back, bringing the howling laughter with it.

Heat crawls behind his face. Steve keeps his hands on the table, forcing down the urge to hide behind them. “I-” He stops to cough, “I wasn’t supposed to play Hamlet.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, “What do you mean?!”

Robin answers loud enough for everyone to hear, “He was the grave robber, but the other guy who did Hamlet got into a coma a week before the show and Steve knew all the lines.”

“W-Woah, woah, woah!” Eddie holds his hands out, looking scandalous. He throws looks around the club. “Everyone, shut the fuck up right now! This is more important than caring about the rest of you!” Eddie drags the stool over and perches on it like a very much invested gargoyle, almost oblivious to the audience’s reaction.

“Okay, let me go through this.” He points at Steve, still holding eye contact as if Steve’s soul would provide the answer. “You weren’t Hamlet. You were meant to be the guy who gives him the skull to monologue. The OG Hamlet got into a coma for some reason-“

“Car accident.” Robin interjects.

“Yeah, no need to elaborate, ma’am. You, Steve-” Eddie breaks off for a second, holding back a laugh of his own. “You somehow knew all the Hamlet lines because you were waiting to skin OG Hamlet’s head and make his skull yours to do the monologue.”

There’s a scandalous outcry from all tables. Even when they mostly calm down, Steve uses the growing anticipation to ‘think’ about what Eddie just said before he casually shrugs and says, “Sounds about right.”

Eddie drops his face into his arm, letting everyone laugh at him. Steve lets himself break, his laughter bubbling out of him in a way that doesn’t sound so self-deprecating or hollow. If he was in a cynical mood, he would’ve thought it was pathetic that the only person who made him laugh so lightly again was some random standup.

After a moment, Eddie finally looks up, his face broken in disbelieving grin. He chuckles into the mic and looks back at Steve, “Sorry, it’s just I hear some wild stories in the crowd some nights and I think yours takes the cake.”

Steve smiles, “Thanks, man.”

Eddie stands up back, half-leaning onto the stool. “Do you still remember those lines? To be or not to be?”

The whole damn thing. “Uh… some of it?”

Eddie’s grin shifts into something more mischievous. “Let’s see who knows more.”

A collective oooh goes around the room, including Robin. She already has her phone out for recording. Steve rolls his eyes at her and takes a quick sip of his water. He clears his throat and starts, “‘To be or not to be, that is the question.’”

“‘Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer, the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..’” Eddie says without missing a beat.

Oh, he thinks he knows it all. The sense of competition that Steve thought had died out with his future of a sports career reignites in his chest. He sits up even straighter. “‘Or to take arms against a sea of troubles and by opposing end them.’”

“‘To die-to sleep, no more.’” Eddie slowly walks over to the edge of the stage, “‘And by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks that flesh is heir to.’”

“'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd.’” Steve almost shivers as he recites the line, uncertain if it’s from the club’s cooling temperatures or the intense gaze from Eddie’s eyes. “‘To die, to sleep.’”

“‘To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub,’” Eddie suggestively rubs a hand on his chest as he squats down. Steve’s eyes flicker to the hand, almost hypnotized by the motion. Nay, he shakes himself out of it. No distractions!

“‘For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, when we have shuffled off this mortal coil.’” It’s getting harder to remember the following lines. That hasn’t happened before. Steve has never forgotten the damn soliloquy in years, even when other people try to challenge him.

Eddie continues, “‘Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.’”

“‘The pangs-’” Steve feels his breath catching in his throat when he realizes, for the first time, what beautiful eyes Eddie has.

Oh. 

Eddie suddenly perks up in excitement. For a second, Steve thinks that Eddie has come to the exact same thoughts for him. But then he remembers that he hasn’t completed his line, so Steve feigns defeat.

“I win!” Eddie stands up with a triumphant cry. He spreads his arms out to embrace the cheering whoops and applause. “And I’ve only got to play Hamlet in-” He spins around and crouches down so he can look Steve in the eye again as Eddie’s voice booms into the mic, “-FOURTH GRADE, MOTHERFUCKER!” 

Steve’s not even mad. He just throws his head back, laughing and clapping along. 

Almost too soon, Eddie moves on to heckle on another table. But he keeps glancing over at Steve, his smile widening every time. And Steve smiles back, feeling a laugh slip out of his slips at every joke. He watches Eddie more closely, feeling his heart pound faster in his chest the more Eddie stays onstage. 

By the time Eddie has to depart and thank everyone for being here, Robin announces her need to go home and snuggle with her girlfriend. 

“Man, that was the most I’ve ever laughed in this place.” Steve stretches his back, groaning at the little pops. God, being in his early thirties can be a bitch sometimes.

Robin only hums, moving her eyebrows up and down suggestively. Steve pointedly makes no further comment as he pays the tab.

Outside, the crisp night air welcomes him. Steve takes in a whiff, staring up at the light-polluted sky as he bids Robin a goodbye. Then he hears his name being called. He turns around and sees Eddie hurrying out the doors.

Steve feels a smile already on his face, “Hey, Hamlet.” 

Eddie grins at him, teeth and all, “Hey, yourself.” 

They stare at each other but it lacks the competitive intensity earlier. Steve likes this. But he already has a feeling that this won’t be the first time either one of them would challenge the other.

“Sooo…” Steve says when the silence stretches a little too long. He gestures between himself and Eddie, “Wanna restart our introductions?”

Eddie’s eyes brighten, “Yeah! Right, sorry.” He clears his throat and thrusts a hand out. “My name is Eddie Munson. Self-proclaimed comedian and musician. You may recognize me as the guy who beat you in Hamlet’s famous speech.”

Steve takes his hand. Eddie feels bony and thin, but large enough to fit perfectly into Steve’s palm. He tries not to sound so eager as he says, “Steve Harrington. Film director who doesn’t like horror. Believe it or not, I actually know the whole stupid thing.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrowing his eyes, “Really? Like, no offense, but even if you remember that much-”

“‘And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment with this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.’” Steve winks with the Harrington Charm, smile and all. 

Eddie stares at him for so long that Steve feels his heart racing for a different reason. And then, Eddie turns around and muffles a loud scream into his free hand. When the man turns back to face him, he’s sporting the widest smile Steve has never seen.

“You knew the whole thing!?” Eddie’s eyes sparkle with utter adoration.

“Yep.” Steve pops the ‘p’, grinning like a little shit.

“But why did you forget that line?”

“Let’s just say,” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand, intertwining their fingers together, “I got distracted by the pangs of love.”

Eddie bites on his lower lip as he swoons his body over so they are pressing against each other. With half-lidded eyes, Eddie whispers, “You know that part is Hamlet referring to missing his dead dad, right?”

Of course Steve couldn’t help but kiss him.

[sanjisblackasswife]

Gojo Hearing “I Love You” for the First Time

I gen. have no clue if anywhere in the series anybody has said they loved gojo. Whether platonic or not. Its interesting and I was just thinking.

CW: Mentions of Gojo’s Past(some canon some not…so spoilers ig if you haven’t read the inventory arc), Established Relationship, Mentioned Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Some Angst(?), Soft Gojo, Reader speaks Spanish because I’m projecting 😋, Kisses

Blk!Fem Reader in Mind

“AND THAT’S WHY I DO NOT LIKE PEANUT BUTTER COOKIES!..IT WAS VOMIT EVERYWHERE!”

“Can’t believe you managed to eat 6 boxes of cookies in one sitting.”

“Hey! Don’t judge it was a marathon of Digimon playing all day…good times. Not as good as the time—“

And there he goes again, your big over 6’6” boyfriend laying on his back on the couch having another yap fest after a long trip. It started off with a quiet evening of you both eating and watching a childhood movie to then actually sharing stories of your past.

You really couldn’t be more enamored by how excited Satoru gets when he speaks to you. His smile is wide from ear to ear and his dimples grow deeper. He’s also so expressive with his hand gestures you really don’t know where to look as you lay comfortable on his big broad chest.

Usually when he begins to speak about his life before you, you try to absorb and savor every moment. Since your friendship in high school Gojo wasn’t much of a talker (ironically) about his life, but as you both grown closer since his big mission with Geto to watch over Riko he managed to get a bit more comfortable with telling you more about himself.

It’s been 11 years since then and after some therapy sessions with you, Geto, and Gojo three of you managed to learn how to express yourselves in a healthier way with each other.

You watch now, almost 1 year into your official relationship with him and noticed he doesn’t talk much about his parents. Nor an adult in his life that was like a parent to him at the very least. Even when in High School you never met his family. You knew of his clan and that was all.

You always wondered where did he get his wild energy from? His dad? Where did he become so affectionate through touch? His mom? It was all a mystery you wanted to understand.

You’ve even asked Geto, his closest best friend what does he know about his mom and dad, but he always ends with “It’s better you wait until he tells you himself.”

You didn’t question it more, you respected the decision so thats exactly why you’re here. Watching and listening attentively to what your boyfriend has to say. It makes you happy seeing how much he has grown more comfortable towards you towards the years.

“And when I was 8 I remember my folks always gave me free range to use my technique whenever to practice, but boy they regretted after an hour because I—-baby.”

Without noticing your eyes blinked back at him as if you began to come back to reality again, Gojo seen the relaxed look you given him as he spoke, how your eyes were on his, but he just knew you—

“‘ not even listeninggguhhhh.”

Putting your thumbs on his pouty bottom lip, they’re so soft you smile at him, it wasn’t really something you’d expect to say to him, but his pretty big smile, his deepened dimples, everything about him caught you in a moment of venerability you just decided to softly speak at him;

“I love you.”

…just like that it was a pause.

It just slipped off the tongue. You meant it, but finally saying it out loud was a bit of a shock to not just you, but more Satoru. He had an unreadable look on his face, almost as if he didn’t catch what you said, but he definitely did. He couldn’t miss the way his body tensed up hearing those three words.

“What?”

Gojo didn’t say anything, almost as if it was a staring contest you rise from his chest to straddle him, “Are you okay?”

You jumped feeling the pads of his thumb dig into the fattiness of your hips, almost as if he were trying to massage you….very painfully. He got up though, placing you down on the couch and walking to the nearest bathroom without saying a word or looking at you. You could’ve sworn he wiped his face momentarily.

“Go—?”

He didn’t mean to, it was almost a reflex. Your words though, kept replaying in his head . He felt a bit silly being so dramatic , ironically but he couldn’t properly process what you said.

“Satoru?” You knock on the door breaking him away from his thoughts, “You okay, papa? I—oh.”

He opened the door, putting back on his eye mask and giving you one of the fakest smiles you ever seen him do.

“What are you doing, you okay?”

“yeah yeah I’m fineeeee. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“W-wait!” You playfully scoff at his eagerness as he pulls you to the front door, “I’m sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable….I know it was sudden and random, but I meant it.”

Gojo turns and exhales, clearing his throat he begins to scratch the back of his head, you can tell he is scrambling for words so you continue; “I do love you Satoru. A lot. I think I always have since we were younger, but I don’t know…today made me realize I should verbalize it.”

He wants to speak, but for one of the first times you left him wanting to just listen to you. Honestly you took advantage of it because who knows when you’ll be able to get him this quiet.

“I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you explain things, I love the way you are, I love the way you care, I love how you can get on my nerves.” You ends the last part with a giggle making him finally chuckle with you, and he brings you closer to his chest. “I love you, Satoru. You are an amazing person and I am very blessed to have you as not only a friend but a partner.”

It was all too much, he felt overwhelmed he had to lift his mask to wipe the tears welling on the side of his eyes, he chuckles again, the free hand on your waist tightening, “Well damn if I didn’t know better I’d think you have a crush on me.”

You laugh, “Maybeeee…..Now. “ You smooch his cheek before grabbing your phone, “Let’s go get some food—-“

You tried walking past him towards the door but he grabs you from behind to hug you close, you can hear his shallow breaths in your ear. You’re used to his tight squeezes from behind but this one was firm. Almost as if he let you go you’ll fly away.

“Say it again.”

You smirk, his voice quivering but trying to be masked by a fake pouting tone, “I love you, Satoru.”

“Again.”

“I love you.”

“Again, but in Spanish.”

“Oh brother.”

“C’mon you sound hot when speaking Spanish.”

“Te amaré para siempre, Satoru…”

If words could explain how he felt right now with you, the closest would be a weight being lifted off his shoulders. For a moment he no longer was Gojo the strongest sorcerer, he was Satoru.

Just Satoru.

Something he wanted to be for a long time, and now you are helping him take the first step into that.

You inhale his scent; mint, expensive cologne and his natural musky smell you love so much and rub his head as he is still buried in your neck. You turn to face him and grab his cheeks, almost hesitantly to cup them because you weren’t sure if he’d left you see him cry. Though you felt your shoulder dampen.

However he let you, his big blue eyes surrounded by a tint of pink, he tried laughing it off and he actually broke eyes contact with you, “I …um…heh..fuck—“

You knew what he was trying to say but you don’t force him, instead you place your lips on his, you felt him exhale, his body relaxing in your touch, “I know, Satoru. I know.”

Gojo couldn’t properly register why he was so overwhelmed with whatever he is feeling right now but he wouldn’t trade this feeling in the world. He honestly wanted to replay the moment you said you loved him on repeat all day.

Later that day you both go out and have your own last minute date for the evening, he wanted so badly to tell you he loves you back by trying to incorporate more of the word “love “ in his vocabulary, by saying things like “I know you LOVE this.” Or “Wouldnt you LOVE for me to take you here.” but it was hard and he sounded silly.

Satoru wanted so badly to tell you he doesn’t just love you, but he has fallen IN love with you.

Gojo finally found just one more person that gave him something he didn’t realize he needed;

To feel human.

[yellowjestertfs]

Just another ordinary day

Been busy working on a longer project (as in 40k+ words :0) but in the meantime decided to publish another older story of mine with revisions and images. AI was being especially tricky on me this time so the images are not quite what I pictured but good enough. If anyone has any tips for making better images or is interested in proofreading my longer story let me know!

I woke with a start, my mind still groggy from sleep my vision hazy. It was one of those sudden wake-ups that throws off your whole day, the kind usually prompted by some bad dream or loud noise. Only there had been no such occurrence; my sleep had been peaceful and from what I could remember dreamless, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling something had woken me. 

No matter the cause I was up, and judging by the daylight creeping through my shades there was no point falling back to sleep. With a groan, I lifted myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. The alarm on my bedside table informed me I had thirty extra minutes this morning to get ready for work. Never one to waste time I decided to have a quick wank with my extra time to try to release some of the stress my sudden wakeup had caused.

Something felt off as I pulled down my pants to reveal my dick, rock hard as it was most mornings. The type of feeling you get when you say a word over and over and it loses all meaning. Everything else seemed normal, my body was still just as average as when I went to bed, nice strong legs from a childhood of playing soccer and a slight beer belly from my time playing beer pong in college. My face looked the same as well, a generally generic face, adorned by light stubble which had grown in while I slept, and bags under my eyes from my draining corporate job. It was my dick that felt off, foreign, only that was ridiculous. It looked the same as it had since I finished puberty. Just over a foot long and proportionally thick, it was just as average as the rest of my body. Something about thinking of my third leg as average felt wrong but I chalked it up to the dregs of sleep. That was simply how men were, nothing strange about it.

Shanking myself out of my contemplative state I hopped into the shower and went about the act of washing away the sheen of sweat I had gained while I slept. I also took this time to rub one out, using the standard two-hand technique practiced by most men. My dick quickly rose to its full size, and within minutes, my tennis ball-sized balls were churning out cum. I thought back to an article I had read in high school that claimed the average male ejaculated a third a gallon of cum per climax, and judging by my admissions that seemed plausible. I supposed the amount coupled with the force accounted for the high rate of condom breakage, not that any but the bravest of women ever allowed for penetrative sex.

After maneuvering the shower head to force all the cum down the drain I turned off the water and wrapped a towel around my waist, paying special care to ensure that my dick didn’t cause the cloth to come undone. Suddenly I felt a wave pass over me. I felt immediately nauseous and light-headed and a strange sensation of deja vu. I realized this was the feeling that had woken me up this morning, then just as suddenly as it had come over me the queasiness vanished as did my memory of the event. I was left only with a vague sense of unease. Powering through the strange sensation I wiped down the mirror and was confronted once again with a visage that felt somehow off. It wasn’t my average face nor the obscene bulge hidden behind my towel, both of those were normal. My body too looked just as average as ever, thick cut pecs, prominent square abs, and bulging 22’’ biceps were nothing to write home about, although I supposed my time playing soccer had given my legs an extra boost elevating them from the standard 30-inch thickness to a respectable 35. Luckily for me, men are incapable of storing fat otherwise I might have a belly from all those beers I drank in college I thought to myself absentmindedly patting my six-pack. Still, in a world where most men have 250 pounds of walking muscle, I have always felt sort of insecure about my scrawny 230-pound body. 

Quickly forgetting about the strange sensation I finished my morning routine, electing to keep my stubble in the hopes of cultivating a more rugged look on my average face. I exited the bathroom and opened my closet, greeted by the sight of several rows of various dress shirts, embarrassingly all labeled as men's adult small. Putting on underwear was easy enough as with all menswear my boxers had a special compartment for my hose-like junk. A dress shirt too buttoned easily over my cabbage-sized pecs as of course all men's shirts were created for just the task. I was just in the process of squeezing my legs into billowing trousers when I felt another wave pass over me. My already precarious balance caused me to fall, and I caught myself on the edge of my dresser, only it wasn’t a dresser. Why would I have a dresser, I wasn’t a woman what would I do with clothing? Righting myself against what I realized was a workout bench I glanced down just to reassure myself of my nakedness. I wondered absently where the thought of me owning clothing had come from, what a preposterous idea, that would be like a woman walking around naked. I would be fired on the spot if I showed up in such an offensive garment. Casting the ridiculous idea out of my mind I grabbed my bag and headed off to work. 

Saying hello to my hunky neighbor as I passed I finally emerged onto the street. Despite my strange morning, the world outside my apartment appeared the same as it always was, men on their way to work naked, of course, pecs and dick bouncing as they walked, bare feet smacking against the smooth temperature-controlled cement. I joined the throngs of men crowding the sidewalks and waited at a crosswalk as men showing flesh drove by, their cars of course made specifically large enough to hold their bulk. I became just another face in the crowd, just another man on his way to work, bodybuilder frame revealed to the wind. The eye easily passed over my foot-long dick, the instrument not nearly long enough to garner any attention. Be they young or old, rich or poor every man was at least 200 pounds of muscle with a shlong to match and of course, all of them were naked, it was simply how the world was, how it had always been. Depending on the subway station I swiped my metro card and made my way to the appropriate train. As the train pulled I was buffeted by yet another wave and was instantly wracked with an intense pulse of nausea which disappeared just as suddenly as it had arrived. 

Releasing I had fallen down, but not knowing why, I stood back up to my full 7’10” hight and saw all around me men doing the same. For a moment the doors to the subway car in front of me looked strange, almost too tall but that didn’t make any sense. They stood just as tall as ever, the standard 9 foot hight, enough to allow most men to enter without hitting their heads. I knew of course that there were rare men who would still have to duck to enter the train car but for the vast majority of men who averaged around 8’0’’, ten feet was more than sufficient. I entered the car and sat down, my bare butt brushing up against the perky ass of a blond man with a round face on one side and a woman in expertly pressed dress slacks and a matching navy blazer on the other. As the train took off another wave stuck. This one merely caused me to clutch my head as a splitting headache appeared and then vanished in a second. The woman next to me was hit harder by the instantly forgotten wave of reality-altering force. Thrown off balance she bounced into my left pec, her head cushioned by the squishy yet firm muscle. Recovering immediately and feeling somewhat confused as to how she ended up pressed against me she apologized and distracted herself by pulling out her phone and flipping to the camera app to ensure her makeup was not smudged. Though the camera was pointed at herself I could see my reflection, my head towering over hers even in my sitting position. 

I certainly wasn’t ugly by any standard but I also wasn’t some model. My chiseled wide jaw was just about as handsome as every other man on the train, although the perfect coating of square stubble that had grown in during the night did lend me a rugged edge. The rest of my features were pretty mundane, clear and pore-less skin, thick square eyebrows and a dimpled wide chin were the default for men, as evidenced by the golden-haired Adonis that sat next to me. Even so, I always liked my piercing bright eyes and high cheekbones even though they were hardly rare in the world.

The blond man sitting next to me with the perfect lantern jaw got up at the next stop. Mine was the one after that. 

I exited the car and ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time to ensure I wasn’t late. My work building looked the same as it always did, with large doors to accommodate male employees and in the lobby a giant bronze statue of a man holding the earth, his body naked and extremely well muscled and hung of course for the sake of realism. Despite my relative scrawniness I still used a male-designated elevator, the female ones not made to handle my weight or height. The several other men in the elevator and I had only made it a few floors before we were subject to one final and seemingly extra powerful shockwave. The weight of the changes enacted easily caused all the men even with their rock-hard muscles to crumple and we collapsed onto each other. My hand somehow ended up gasping the long penis of a 40-year-old accountant with a perfectly maintained salt and pepper beard. For a moment I motioned to let go of his member before reality snapped back in and I remembered my manners. It would be incredibly rude for me to begin a morning grope and not bring him to completion. In fact,  I had already made a major faux pas by not kissing my coworker hello. This error in tact was quickly rectified as the rest of the elevator ride turned into a make-out session. By my floor the sexy accountant I was giving a handjob to reached completion and I took his load as my breakfast. As I left he spanked my ass and stuck his business card between my butt checks. Guess he liked my elevator pitch. 

I went straight to my boss's office as was customary and gave the 350-pound silver fox a quick blow job before he transferred his abnormally large penis into my ass and fucked me while we discussed business. Turns out the reality-warping machine he had invested in had been broken into this morning although as far as anyone could tell no damage had been done nor had the machine been used. 

“Makes sense I told him" In-between moans as he obliterated my prostate. “I imagine we would know if someone were to fuck with reality.” 

My boss clenched his superhumanly wide lantern jaw and straightened up to his full over eight-foot height, both football-sized biceps flexed behind his head. “You're right on that account kid, today is yet another ordinary day.

[syluspen]

alternate universe where you are sylus’s college gf (heavy projection because i am really being delusional right now, i need him so bad please)

being in a relationship with him will be one of the highlights of your college years

being with him will also make your college years a lot less stressful because… you literally have sylus

his presence alone would be enough to motivate you (i definitely would be!)

no matter how busy sylus can be, he always picks you up at your home, giving you your daily dose of coffee, sends you to your university, and picks you up after school (lord when will it be my turn)

when you finish early, and his schedule is not hectic, expect its going to be a spontaneous date… or is it really spontaneous knowing sylus almost have everything planned out? (lord when…?)

you have homeworks to do? study date it is. you have a presentation to prepare for? i just know he is going to help you in any way he can. too much tasks to do? sleepover it is at his mansion. i just know he will do anything to spend time with you. doesn’t matter if you are extremely busy, as long as he can be beside you, and support you in ways he can, he is happy. (lord i’m begging)

your stress level meter is definitely not going through the roof with this man around. he just supports you so much that you feel like whatever you have to face, you can do it.

and imagine during the sleepover, you’re writing a research paper, and he is seated across you. you have been focused for like an hour now, and starting to feel exhausted…

but you stare at him, scrolling on his ipad (ipad kid sylus lol), while in his robe (high-key a miracle you are able to focus with such a nice view), and you just… ksksksksksks motivation levels? gone through the roof!! And you immediately get back on writing while smiling to yourself.

don’t think he did not notice though, but he is not going to bring it up until you are done. (i love it when a man [sylus] is considerate)

and after you’re done, he cuddles you and kisses your forehead, telling you did a good job today 🥺❤️

these thoughts is what keeps me alive everyday man. my brain thinks of sylus and i just 🥰❤️ but when i come back to reality with no sylus, i go 😔💔 like what do you mean there is no sylus irl…

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Don't Mess With The Doctor's Wife 💘 | Carlisle Cullen Snippet

Twilight Masterlist Part 1

Characters & Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x female!vampire!reader (romantic), Bella Swan x Edward Cullen, Edward Cullen x reader (platonic)

Content warnings: fluff, light angst, suggestive themes right at the end | female reader (she/her) | wc: 1.4k

Premise: Just some good ole fluff of a married vampire couple of a few dumbass teen immortals.

Note: So many people loved 'The Doctor's Wife' and asked if I could continue it! not sure if I'll make it long imagines but I definitely plan on making small snippets like this that is good ole fluff of the golden couple of the Cullens dealing with their chaotic teenage immortal children. Enjoy and thank you so much for the positive reception on my work!

--------------

“Honey….,” Carlisle leaned against the door of their bedroom, treading carefully on water he knew better than to cross. But their whole family dynamic was at stake and as the patriarch--and coven leader--he needed to fix it. 

Without any bloodshed.

Her glare, however, spoke against his hopes for peace. “Don’t honey me, Carlisle Cullen.” Clothes flung everywhere, the room in utter disarray contrary to its usually unkempt nature. “He is being ridiculous and you know it.” Tossing a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps into the suitcase she gave him another look, “And yes, I know he can hear me.” Carlisle had opened his mouth, but closed it, his wife not having to the mind reader in the family to know what he was about to say. 

“You have every right to be upset. I’m not happy about the situation either, but we have to do what’s best for our family.”

Carlisle came over to where she was, beginning to pack his clothes into his own suitcase. Brushing away the stray hairs that fell from her hair scarf, Y/n’s eyes turned serious, “What happened was unfortunate--and it is a shame Bella got hurt. He’s been beating himself over it the entire weekend and I understand that, Carlisle. But what I don’t appreciate is him uprooting us and using you as the excuse.”

Following Bella’s birthday party gone wrong, Edward didn’t waste a second in making the executive decision to the family that they had to leave Forks. Saying they were a danger to Bella and to ensure her safety and no more harm comes to her as a result of his doing, they needed to remove themselves from the picture. And Edward’s genius move was to tell Bella it was because the staff at the hospital were starting to notice Carlisle’s lack of aging. 

“His concern is valid. We’ve been here four years now. It was bound to happen.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve heard people talk at the hospital?” She challenged.

“I don’t need to hear them say it aloud, Y/n,” he tells her with a knowing look. “Their stares are enough confirmation. I had one nurse ask me last week if I had a skincare routine.” His attempt at a joke doesn't work. She doesn’t so much as crack a smile, but he tries again. “Soon they’ll be asking what botox doctor I go to.”

Y/n knew Carlisle had a point. It always happened wherever they moved. They settled down, spent maybe five or six years until all the kids graduated from high school for the hundredth time, then did it all over again. If it wasn’t nosy hospital workers, it was teachers. If it wasn’t the bakery owner she frequented asking how she managed to look 27 after seven years, then it was the engineer she was collaborating with on a project. 

“It’s not fair,” she goes on, carefully folding her dress shirts, skirts, and pants. Not looking forward to having to pack up her art studio. All the supplies, artwork, and projects she was working on. “And I feel so awful for her,” her frown made his own appear, “You see the way she looks at him. It’s utter devotion, as though he was a sentient being sent from the heavens. And Edward,” her voice drops to a whisper, “he worships the ground she walks on. And this decision not only punishes her, it punishes him.”

The pair fall into a silence when the front door opens and slams shut. Edward’s lingering scent disapparating, causing Y/n to groan and place her head in her hands. The anger and not caring if her adoptive son heard her rant suddenly vanished. Replaced with shame. 

Carlisle sighs, setting down the pile of towels he folded to walk over to her. Gently grabbing her shoulders, he brings Y/n into a comforting embrace, letting his hands fall to her waist, allowing her to sink into his arms with a content hum. 

“Listen to me,” she closes her eyes, not wanting to meet his gaze where she’ll find judgement. “I sound ridiculous--and I’m being unfair to him and his feelings on the matter.”

“You care for him dearly,” Carlisle strokes her hair, “he understands that. And I think deep down he knows you’re right, but won’t admit to it because he believes he’s doing the right thing for Bella.” Carlisle leans back to look into her eyes, “Remember, he was turned at a young age--and has never experienced this type of love before. He’s learning all this for the first time.”

“I know,” she mumbles, deflated but understanding. They stayed in their embrace for a few minutes before separating to continue packing up. Edward returned later that night with brighter eyes, indicating he had fed to which resolved some of the tension between the two when they finally sat down to have the conversion they’d been dreading. Him apologizing for uprooting the family suddenly, and for the harm he was to cause Bella. And Y/n apologizing for the words she spoke before he left. They hugged it out, neither able to stay mad at the other, and Edward helped her pack the art room throughout the remainder of the night. 

The time away from Forks was odd but somewhat comforting. Carlisle and Y/n decided to spend their time on the island they owned just off the coast of Brazil. Rosalie and Emmett traveled to New York, Alice and Jasper in Mississippi and Edward in Rio de Janeiro. They spoke on the phone frequently, sent letters and postcards, or emailed. Edward would spend a night or two on the island to hunt, Y/n painted canvas after canvas, and Carlisle worked on a medical textbook he was in the process of writing.

“You hear that?” She asked one night when they were cuddling on the couch. A random movie playing on the TV.

“What?”

“It’s quiet,” she whispered, a grin spreading on her lips. “No kids. No animals. No workers. Absolute silence.” Carlisle mirrored her smile. 

“You’re right. We haven’t had complete silence in ages.”

“More like eighty years--give or take,” she snorted. 

When the shit hit the fan in Italy, Y/n nearly killed Edward herself. Not just for the danger he put himself in but for the whole family. Alice and Rosalie also met her wrath--Rosalie for not explaining clearly to Edward the vision, and Alice for dragging Bella to Italy. 

Yeah, none of them wanted the smoke. 

The sight of the three siblings sitting on the couch with their heads down and twiddling their thumbs while Y/n paced in front of them while shouting a motherly tangent had Emmett straining to hold back his laughter. Carlisle didn’t dare intervene. 

Back in Forks the family settled back into their routines. Carlisle in the hospital and Y/n working on projects. The kids in school and planning for the summer. 

Then shit hit the fan again.

This time in the form of a newborn vampire army created by the red-headed lover of the tracker they disposed of the year prior. Victoria. And she was out for revenge against Edward and Bella. 

Y/n was not the fighting type, but that didn’t mean she did not know how to throw down. She could get her hands dirty if she desired. Emmett and Jasper taught her the ropes, Edward taught her how to anticipate opponents moves. 

“C’mon old man!” she dodged Carlisle’s attack, giggling as she pivoted to kick lightly at his chest. “Don’t be getting sleepy on me now. That’s not like you.” Carlisle smirked, catching her off guard by grabbing her waist and flipping her onto the ground.

“I’d watch who you call old, sweetheart,” he mocked right as Jasper yelled, “Never turn your back on your enemy!” 

Let’s just say…they did more than spar that night once the sun went down. 

[lisenberry]

The mountain is you

Ch. 2 - I don't know what it is that I'm climbing to

~2.4k

E/MDNI/18+

CW: BDSM negotiations, dom!Price, dom!Ghost, pain play

(Chapter 1, Chapter 3, Chapter 4)

It’d been a while since John had spoken to his former lieutenant, and even longer since he’d seen him.  The last few years had passed in a fog, so it was a shock when he saw the familiar number come across his phone.  He only briefly hesitated before answering. 

Soap and Gaz texted him all the time.  Links of foolish videos on the clock app, and pictures of mysterious rashes on their body parts that they needed help identifying.

But Ghost wasn’t one to waste anyone’s time.  Whatever it was, it was important.  And as it turned out, he had a proposition for him.

“You need a project, Cap.  Something to keep you sharp.”

“Are you worried about me, Simon?”

“We all are.”

John had been the one to start Life Connect 141.  An opportunity that gave the lads a place to channel their post-combat restless energy in a way that wouldn’t get them a murder conviction or a stint in a maximum-security psych ward.  It kept them together as a team and gave them a purpose.  And the opportunity to launder some of the not-quite-above-board money they’d liberated over the course of their travels.

Some veterans of special ops worked with rescued pit bulls.  Others started fitness programs, backpacking guide schools, and preparedness training facilities.

His boys filled their own rewarding niche.  Even after John’s departure, the company had flourished and from what he could tell, they were all staying out of trouble.

Judging by Ghost’s concern, he was the one who was floundering.  A marriage to the wrong woman, and the subsequent messy divorce, had left him dangerously adrift.  He’d thought about returning to the work, but his heart wasn’t in it anymore.

“Just meet her.  Trust me.  You can decide then if you’re doing me a favor, or the other way around.”

And he did trust Ghost.  With his life.  And if anyone had been keeping track, he imagined the scales were just about even between who owed whom more.

In the end, he agreed to the meeting.  For no other reason than to see for himself what had one of the toughest, most resourceful bastards he’d ever known seeking his expertise. 

They’d been at the table for a half hour, going over your file and discussing the particulars when John glanced up to catch his first impression of you.  A breezy blouse and a long, colorful skirt.  You looked around the outside seating area but didn’t see them.

Or more likely, you didn’t recognize Ghost without his mask on, judging by the surprised laughter that met his ears a few seconds later.

“Ah, dove.  There you are.”  Simon grinned as he stood, pulling you into a friendly hug. 

“You’ll have to forgive me, I’ve never seen you without the mask before.  I’m trying to reconcile the picture in my head.  I’ll try not to stare.”  An endearingly warm smile lit up your face.

You weren’t at all what John had pictured, either.  He’d clearly have to adjust the conclusions he’d reached based on your file.  He’d read about your stressful, demanding job, your high intelligence and predilection for punishment, and he’d imagined someone harder.  Colder.

There was a notation in the margin on one of the pages that had stood out as well. 

Daddy issues??? Undisclosed but probable.

He made his own note to inquire further, suddenly anxious to know everything there was to know about you.

“The mask is an improvement, don’t you think?” Ghost shrugged.  Was he actually blushing? 

Surely it was just the heat of the sun or a trick of the light.

“It has its charms, but you have a very honest face.”  The way you laid your hand reassuringly on his lieutenant’s arm made John clear his throat and offer his own hand in greeting.

As cute as your connection was, you were there for him, and he noticed the way you’d nervously avoided meeting his gaze.  The way you’d chosen to cling instead to Simon, the devil you knew. 

He had no desire to forcibly extricate you from your bond with your previous Dom.  That wasn’t how it worked.  At best, John could match it.  Slowly.  If he did his job right, in time, you’d come to look at him with a similar trust.

“Nice to meet you,” your eyes finally flitted to his as he took your cool, smooth palm into his own. 

It was then that he felt it.  The twitchy, fevered thrill of a worthy mission.

“So, what does that file say about me?”  You sipped your pint, finding your throat suddenly dry and your forehead warm, and in need of something to do with your hands. 

Ghost had excused himself a short while before, after making the introductions and sharing a few stories of his and John’s time working together.   

You’d found being alone with him to be...intense.  He seemed impenetrable.

He didn’t look down at the folder, and kept it closed on the table.  His pen held between his two hands, contemplative and resolute.

“That you’re a pain slut.  With a high tolerance.”  His voice didn’t rise above his gruff, conversational tone, and you didn’t bother to look around at your fellow patrons seated near you.  With the din of the restaurant, they wouldn’t be able to hear.  “Does that bother you?”

“No.  It’s the truth.”  You didn’t have anything to hide.  Not from him at least.  Not if this was going to work.

“What is it about pain that you seek out?”  He crossed his arms over the table and leaned in closer.  Biceps bunching under his t-shirt.  Ghost had always worn a suit.  John looked like he came from a construction site.  Unshaven and slightly dangerous.

You didn't hate it.

“When it’s done right, there’s a moment right before it gets to be too much that my body starts to fight back.  As if to say, ‘Go on, I dare you.  Is that all you’ve got to give?’  And just then, right before I give in and quit, it’s the most powerful I’ve ever been.  The most alive.”

“It��s the rush then, is it?”  He studied you like a therapist.  And you felt like a patient.  Only this therapist’s job was to tie you up and make you cry.  And come.  And cry again.  The thought made you shudder inwardly with anticipation.   

“It doesn’t work for all pain.  It’s not the blood or the risk of injury.  I don’t get off at the thought of the dentist...” you trailed off with a light laugh, finding it easier to talk to him about this than you'd thought. “But sometimes, the more helpless I am, the stronger it feels.  There aren’t too many things you can do without thinking about it.  Against your will.  Beating, breathing, feeling.  There’s a freedom in it.  Again, if it’s done right.”

“You don’t like to think, then.  You’d rather be surprised?”

“I don’t mind surprises.  I like them, actually.  We don’t have to negotiate everything ahead of time, so long as it feels right in the scene.”

You finished off the last of your pint and smoothed the napkin that had caught to the condensation on the bottom.  A first date, a therapy session, and an interview all in one.  And yet it didn’t fill you with the same anxiety as it should.  It could’ve gone wrong in a hundred different ways, and yet the more you confided, the more you relaxed. 

“Talk to me about these hard lines.”  He opened your file, skimmed it, and moved his pen back and forth as if he was underlining something boldly.

“Always be honest with me about what you’re going to do.  Don’t play games or make me have to choose something in order to please you.  Keep me engaged, but if I have to make a decision it will take me out of it.”

“That’s important to know, thank you.”  He made another note on the page.  “It also says no choking, but with an asterisk next to it.  Care you elaborate?”

“When I was little, I had terrible asthma.  Life threatening at times.  It’s under control now, but not being able to breathe, or even the threat of it, doesn’t...” you paused, searching for the right word to convey your biggest fear, “arouse me.  Let’s just say.”

“I understand why it wouldn’t.”  No sympathetic indulgence, thankfully, just a solid nod of support. 

Could he relate?  You wondered what hard lines he had.  You couldn’t imagine anything scaring him. Ghost had reacted the same when you’d had this discussion.  No questions, no bargaining.  Just respect for your vulnerability.  Surprising, from two men who seemingly had none themselves.

It prompted you to delve in further, and leave no room for misunderstanding, just in case.

“No collars, no ribbons, bows, belts, neckties, your hands, anything please.”

“Neck is off limits.  Noted.” 

“You can still kiss me there, if that’s something you like.  Or you can slap me, to get my attention.  And if you need to move me around or hold me down, you can grab my hair.”

You punctuated the last with a helpful smile and a shrug of your shoulders.  His gaze seemed to find your neck then, perhaps contemplating what it’d be like to kiss it.  Did the thought bring him as much excitement as it did you?

“Fair enough.”  A contented grunt was all you received in response.

“You said that this would be a reciprocating agreement.  What do you want from me?”  The question that had been on your mind since Ghost had called you.

With him, you just paid him money.  That was your end of the deal.  Without payment, that left too much to your imagination and you’d let it run a bit wild. 

“I’ll tell you what I want, and when I want it.  Is that clear?  I won’t ask for your permission, and you’ll never have to wonder what I’m thinking.  I don’t hear yes and no, or green and yellow.  Red means take a break and try something else, and the safe word is a hard stop to call it a day.”

“Understood.  Thank you.”  It was a plan you could definitely work with.  “But what about you?  What do you hope to get out of this?”

“I like to be in charge.  Take care of things.  And do the hard things that need to be done.”

“And who takes care of you?”  A simple question, but he seemed to bristle at it.  Perhaps you’d pushed him too far, too soon. 

“Good little girls who listen and behave.”  He adjusted himself in his seat, straightening as if to get back some control.  “Let’s talk punishments.  No spanking, obviously.  You’ll enjoy it too much.”  His eyes seemed to darken in both amusement and desire.

No doubt proud of himself for changing the subject and redirecting the friendly interrogation.

“Hopefully I won’t displease you, but you could ignore me.  That will make me rethink my attitude real quick,” you replied, with an answering grin.

“Ignore you?  I think that would hurt me more than you, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart.  You liked that.  Probably said as much with the flood of heat to your cheeks and the breathless giggle that sounded so foreign to your ears. 

“I think we’ll get along just fine...John?”  You questioned what name he wanted to be called.

“Sir.  Just sir.”

On the day of your appointment, he texted you the location and the key code for the door lock.  You found the building easily, and stepped into the elevator, double checking the apartment number to be sure you were in the right place.

When the code worked on the door to the fifth floor, you entered to find that it was someone’s home. 

The office of Life Connect 141 was in a nondescript office space on the outskirts of Canary Wharf, not far from your office.  If anyone spotted you, you could use the excuse of taking a meeting or doing your due diligence on a property you were looking to liquidate.

This, on the other hand, was well off the beaten path.  A restored factory building in a neighborhood you weren’t familiar with, but appeared to be up and coming judging by the activity along the street.  You’d already noted a few restaurants to try on the short walk from the Tube station and filed them away to pick up something to eat on your way home. 

A flat of this size and builder quality must have cost a premium, or else the owner bought in cheap before the neighborhood began to blossom.  It was well-appointed and comfortable.  Floor to ceiling windows that opened to look just above the shorter buildings next door.  Privacy from looking directly at your neighbors, but still connected to the bustling down below.

Once inside, you followed his directions to the letter.  You’d arrived early, dimmed the lights and set your bag on the hook by the door.  Cell phone ringer turned off and your shoes in the basket in the hall.

"I’ll leave what I want you to wear on a chair, you’ll know which one.  Wear nothing else.  There will be a pillow on the floor, you’ll know which one.  You’ll greet me on it."

As you moved in past the entryway, the remaining room was an open concept.  A kitchen with an attached dining area, and a living space on the opposite side.  Two plush sofas and an assortment of chairs and tables.  You didn’t know what to expect.  A pleasure room, maybe, or a dungeon of racks and toys.

It was just a living room.

Any nerves you’d been holding onto dissolved when you spotted the fabric draped across the lapis lazuli velvet wing-backed armchair.  Was that going to be his seat?  It was large enough to hold both of you comfortably...if you were on his lap.  It was certainly a statement piece.

The outfit he’d chosen was a simple, pink silk backless slip dress.  Not cheap satin, but the softest, sheerest gossamer.  You shivered as you stripped from your street clothes and gently settled the confection over your skin.  It barely covered your ass as you folded your things and hid them out of sight.

You briefly warred with whether to leave your hair up or down, deciding on the former, before you finally took a deep breath to center yourself.  Whatever happened next was out of your control.

When your knees met with the pillow at the foot of The Chair, your mind emptied and you felt the tension that you’d been carrying for weeks start to fade.  

Just in time to hear the click of the front door.

[h0efor2ho]

Quantum Shift : From Friction To Fusion

Yunho X Reader

WC : 3.1k

TW : Enemies to ???, Brothers best friend Yuhno, Teasing, nickname (Sunshine) masterbation, fingering, mind games,

You could pin point the exact moment, you decided you hated Jeong Yunho. It wasn't when you were 4 and he stole your butterfly net, or when you were 7 and and he used all the slides for your microscope without asking. It wasn't when he copied your science fair project or when he removed all the labels from the bottles in your micro-chem kit. No the moment you felt pure, unbridled hatred for Jeong Yunho was when you were 13 years old and he announced that he would be going to MIT for physics when he graduated high school. That wouldn't have been a problem if that wasn't your exact plan as well. And how did Yunho know your plans, well you could thank your big mouth twin brother, and Yunho's best friend, Mingi, for telling him every aspect of your life. 

You learned from an early age you would be stuck with Yunho in some compacity of life with how close him and Mingi were. But you thought it would end after high school. You thought college was going to be a fresh start for you. No longer competing with him, no longer trying to be one step ahead of him. All through high school you pushed yourself. You didn't party, you studied like it was your life force. In the end it was all for not. Sure you graduate with a 4.0 but Yunho beat you by 1 point for valedictorian. When acceptance letters go out, Yunho gets his first and of course he got into MIT. Your's comes three days later, along with Mingi's. All three of you getting accepted. 

Sure MIT wasn't huge but you thought you could at least avoid Yunho durning the day. It didn't help that you knew he would be at the apartment you shared with your brother 90% of the time. So your anger was justified when Yunho's dumb face showed up in more than half your classes that first day. His face breaking into a smug smile as he sat behind you, leaning forward as he did to say "Its just like old times" knowing it would get to you.

That was two months ago, and you haven't said one word to him since. Not a single word spoken in class, not one hello muttered when you leave your bedroom and find his lengthy frame on your couch with Mingi. Not even a look back at him now as you'r sitting in a stuffy lecture hall in a Modern Astrophysics class with Yunho's foot tapping the back of your chair. You refuse to acknowledge that the action is getting under your skin, doing so would give him the satisfaction he is looking for and you will not give that to him. He has been doing these little things over the last two months to try and get you to break, to talk to him.  

When your professor is done explaining a new paper you have to write and ends class you quickly make your way to the library, checking out the books you need and finding yourself a table to spread out on with your laptop. It's a Friday evening after 6pm, it's practically empty so it's noticeable when Yunho's 6 foot frame makes its way across the rows of book shelves and to a table two rows across from you. You try your best to ignore him, even thought you can feel his eyes on you. Finally looking up and meeting his gaze you watch as he holds your stare, eye brow hitching up and a small smirk playing on his lips. The site of him infuriating you to your core. 

You throw yourself into your paper, determined to finish it tonight. You had but in your headphones, allowing Franz Gordon's piano melodies to take over your subconscious and focus. Before long you have finished typing the last sentence of your paper. Looking at your watch you realize it's past 1am. You groan as you start to gather the books you were using to put them back. You allow your eyes to shift up for half a second to notice Yunho is no longer there. The table he was occupying now sits empty. You don't spend to much time thinking about when he left or where he went. If he finished his paper or not. 

After putting all the books back you quickly gather your things and make your way to the apartment you share with your brother. Quietly making your way inside as it's almost 2am now and you know how cranky Mingi gets if he's woken up. You quickly wash up and get yourself ready for bed. You can feel the exhaustion deep in your bones as you crawl into bed. Setting your alarm for 7am and turning on your white noise machine to help drown out any snoring that is garunteed to come from Mingi's room at some point in the night, your sound asleep before a minute even passes. 

You'r first thought when you jerk awake in the morning is that someone in your apartment is working with machinery. The loud whine-grinding noice coming from down the hall is obnoxiously loud. The second think you notice is the sun isn't even all the way in the sky yet. You reach for your phone to check the time and notice 1) it's only 5:15am on a Saturday morning. 2) You have about 5 missed calls from Mingi and 2 from a number you dont have saved in your phone around 2-2:30am. You think how that's odd since Mingi was home in bed with you. The whining grinding noise cuts through your thoughts again. You'r going to kill your brother for waking you up this early on a weekend.

You kick off your covers and stomp your way out of your room. It was too early for your brother to be making all this kind of noise. Rounding the corner, rubbing the sleep from your eyes you start your beratement of him "Mingi, its Saturday at 5am, its way t-" the words die in on your tongue when you take in the site before you. It in fact is not your twin brother, but his best friend, all 6'1" of him. Your mouth gape's open like a fish out of water before you snap it shut. He's shirtless, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, his hair tussled from sleep. 'Why are his arms so big' you silently question as your eyes take him in. You would never admit it out loud, but Yunho had your ideal body type. You knew Mingi dragged him to the gym with him every so often and it showed. His biceps corded in muscle as he leans on the counter, his chest defined and leading down to his stomach that you know if you rested your head on would not be to hard or to soft. 

"Oh hey" he says to you as he opens the coffee grinder, your realize that is the source of the noise that woke you. "What are you doing here?" you blurt out "And where is my brother?" you tear your eyes from his long delicate fingers and the veins that run along his hands and back up to his eyes. Those big chocolate brown eyes that are now studying you carefully. "Oh she speaks" he says with a lazy half smile. "I was starting to worry you may have gone mute there sunshine" You hate the way your eyes track his stupid mouth and the way it quirks up. "I can speak just fine. I just chose to not speak to you. Now where is Mingi?" You watch as Yunho fills the french press with the fresh coffee grinds before adding the hot water from the kettle next to him before turning back to you. 

You suddenly are very aware that you are only in an oversized t-shirt and underwear. You had rushed out to the kitchen to yell at who you thought was your brother, you didn't bother with pants. Now you wish you kinda did with the way his gaze falls to the hem of your shirt that hits mid thigh. "Your brother sunshine, decided it would be a great idea for him and his math buddies to go to one of those uni parties" he lets the words hang between you as he pushed the pump down on the press. "Okay so that means he's where?" you question back. 

"He is currently passed out in his bed, and will be nursing a hang over today since they all got shit faced last night and he called me at 2am to come pick him up after he couldn't get a hold of you" You watch as his large hand reaches up and loops his finger through the handle of two mugs, pulling them from the cabinet. "Thanks for answering my call too by the way" He glances over at you "It was fun trying to figure out where his keys were while he was drunk at 2:30 in the morning" he turns and opens the fridge looking before his brows furrow. He looks over at you "Where is the 'sugar free sweet and creamy' creamer" he asks. "In the back, in the black glass bottle. Mingi will use it all if I don't switch the container" he bends down again and looks harder. "Ugh Y/N there are like 5 of those bottles back here." 

You roll your eyes, and stomp over to the fridge, lightly pushing his shoulder out of the way so you can look. "Yunho those are grey bottles, there is only one black frosted bottle back here" you say as you reach in and grab the bottle. "Seriously, for someone who is sooooo smart you sure ar-" the words die in your throat and your breath hitches as you feel a hand land on your hip. The back's of your thighs brush against the warm fabric that you realize is Yunhos sweat pants. You quickly turn and your face is inline with Yunhos bare chest. Only about 3 inches separate the two of you. You try and take a step back, but your back meets the cold surface of the refrigerator. He has you pinned, hand still on your waist.

You tilt your head back to look up at him, finding him already looking down at you. You hold your breath as he leans down, his breath fanning across your face as his hand wraps around the bottle of creamer in your's "Thanks sunshine" leaning in closer, he drops his voice. "By the way, the blue suites you" Your face must morph into the horrific embarrassment you felt on the inside because when he pulls back to look at you he lets out a small laugh while tracking your face. You can feel the blush sweeping across your face as he takes you in. Gaze sweeping from your eyes to your mouth, your neck. He watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest as your heart speeds up. 

"Ughhh my head" you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear your brothers voice come from behind Yunho. You automatically shrink back against the refrigerator as Yunho studies you. "Yea you're gonna feel like shit all day buddy" he says to your brother without taking his eyes, or his hand, off of you. "Why don't you go shower and I'll make you a cup of coffee" Your brother lets out a groan as he enters the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when you see's Yunho looming over you. "Ugh am I interrupting something?" his eyes shift from Yunho to you and back. Thankfully the way you are angled he cant see Yunhos hand gripping your hip like his life depends on it.

"Nope" Yunho says still without looking at you "Y/N here was just showing me where the coffee creamer was as she was telling me how blind and stupid I am. Isn't that right sunshine?" Neither of you look away as you shake your head yes. Mingi just looks at you for another minute "Well I'm happy you two can be in close proximity without trying to kill each other now" he smiles at you as you look at him "I'm going to take that shower. Maybe we can have breakfast after" you watch as he turns and walks out of the kitchen. You and Yunho stay where you are. Eyes locked, his large hand still gripping your hip, your shirt bunching up higher on your thigh from it. 

Neither of you move, not as Mingi pads down the hall way. Not when you hear the door to the bathroom click close. Not when you hear the shower turn on. Neither of you move until you hear Mingi let out a loud sigh and the sound of water splashing on the shower floor. Signaling he is indeed in the shower now. Two things happen, they happen so fast it takes a moment for your mind to wrap around them. Yunho pries the bottle of creamer out of your hand, placing it on the counter next to you. His hand then comes back to you, gripping your other hip. He steps into you, pushing you back up against the refrigerator more. His large, thick thigh sloping between yours. 

"Why do you insist on doing this to me?" he whispers. "Why do you keep putting me though this?" His eyes searching yours. You don't know what he is referring to. Your breath hitches as his thigh connects with your body. "I...I don't..." your mind cant form words. You can't think. You hate Yunho.. but you can't deny the feeling growing low in your stomach. You have to get away from him you think. 'He's trying to get me to embarrass myself' your mind is racing now. You slowly bring your hands to his chest. Your palms burn as they connect with his bare skin. "Let me go" you say, voice not as strong as you want it to be. His grip on you falters for a second. "I..  I dont know what game you're playing at Yunho, but leave me alone." You push slightly, he allows you to remove himself from you as you make your way around him. "Y/n im not-"

"Enough Yunho. I know we hate each other and are always trying to out do each other but please don't try and lie and tell me your not trying to get in my head and mess me up" You quickly flee back to your room, your blood rushing in your ears you barley hear him calling your name as he follows you. You quickly shut your door behind you, blocking him out his voice dies in the hallway. Your heart is racing, breathing coming in small pants. 'What the fuck was that' you think to yourself. You never thought in a million years Yunho would use those kind of tactics on you to try and mess with your head. 

He must have heard how flustered you get when it comes to anything intimate. You weren't a prude but your list of experiences were quite small. You had, had sex before with a ex boyfriend but it was nothing extravagant. In fact it was a little disappointing, and then when he broke up with you after stating that it wasn't exciting enough for him well you just went back to focusing on your education. You knew he told people you weren't that great in bed, mean while it was him that didn't seem to know what he was doing. You knew Yunho had been friends with him before that, he must have told him how flustered you got and decided to use that against you. You should be mad, furious even.. But you cant deny the feeling pooling low in your stomach. 

A feeling you haven't felt in a long time. You shake your head. It's Yunho, Jeong Yunho for god sakes. Your academic rival. You hate each other! So why are you so turned on by the memory of him pinning you to the refrigerator? You quickly strip out of your underwear and crawl into bed. You know you have to take care of this or it will consume you. Slowly you allow your hand to travel down your body till you reach your core. You were wet.. 'god I hope he didn't notice' you think. It wasn't because of him per-say you tell yourself, it was just the action its self. Your fingers quickly glide through your wet folds, finding your entrance with ease. You quickly insert two of your fingers in and work yourself up.It doesn't take long. Thoughts of Yunhos long fingers replacing yours. You think of the veins that run along the back of his hand and up his forearm. You're punching your fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, the heel of your hand coming down to put pressure against your clit.

 You quickly slap your other hand over your mouth as you approach the edge. Your pants turning into uncontrollable moans, the squashing sound of how wet you are filling the room. All while thinking about your brothers best friend and the man who is the cause of 90% of your troubles. It doesn't take long  before your back is arching off the bed and your core is clenching around your fingers. You come down in a hazy realization your just fingered yourself to Yunho. If he knew he would make fun of you to no end. Getting off to someone who hate you and you hate.You quickly clean yourself up before opening your text book and dive into studying, determined to never thing about what you just did ever again. Shame burns you from the inside out... How are you ever going to look at him again...

You successfully avoided Yunho over the next three week. You don't leave your room when he's over, you get to class right before it starts and run out as soon as it's over. You haven't gone to the library in three weeks for fear of seeing him. It was all going great till your advanced physics teacher announced you would be doing a partnered research paper. You hated group or partnered work but you saw how working with others is crucial in the science world so you always sucked it up. You were mentally preparing yourself to have to work with a stranger when you opened the roster he had e-mailed out along with the topic you had to cover. You found your name, next to it the subject "The Law Of Attraction and how it can be applied to science" but your stomach dropped when you saw who you were partnered with. Because next to your name was none other then...

...Jeong Yuhno...

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tag list ; @tunaasan

If you'd like to be tagged in pt 2 please let me know :)

[theblueflower05]

The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he��s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

[brighttears]

Finally

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description except female sex organs and having hair, no use of y/n

Summary: After losing contact with your lover Joel and his brother for five years, Tommy finds you and brings you into Jackson. You reunite with Joel but it doesn't take long for him to project his insecurity onto you. You talk to Tommy about it until Joel comes and finds you. You have make up sex/five years overdue sex, and end with a shower that eases some feelings out of you as you relax in your new home with Joel

Word count: 7.7k

Warnings: (18+, MINORS DNI) PIV unprotected sex, creampie, mating press, slight hair pulling, slight edging, dirty talk, Joel has a big ol weiner, pet names (baby, babygirl, good girl, sweet girl, darling, my love), you and Joel have an argument, ‘slut’ used derogatorily, accused cheating, brief drinking, kind of insecure!Joel, Tess doesn’t exist

A/n: this is the longest it’s ever taken me to post anything lol (and also the longest thing i’ve written i think?). the quality will not correlate I was messing around with like four other ideas this is the just the only one that got somewhere, also been having way less time to write and that will probably continue 3: also finally did smut (for the one person who has said they want me to lol love u)

—

Riding up to the gates of Jackson, you feel like a teenager on their first day of high school, distractingly nervous but drifted forward by hopeful butterflies. You grip the leather reins and look to Tommy riding beside you, he grants you a reassuring grin. In front of you, the gates, made of lines of thick logs with a large rusty lock, start to groan open. Tommy slips through before you and you follow him into a different world—a ghost and dream, lit up by string lights, appearing warm despite the winter, healthy and alive. Your focus, however, concentrates on the faces, many of which are looking back at your new one. Flicking from one to the next, your heart rises and falls with every one that isn’t Joel’s. Tommy’s promise has your senses perked up like an animal. 

Ahead of you on the road, you double take a man with his back to you. Despite this and his hair being too gray, his posture and step are unmistakable. 

“Joel,” you utter, soft, a reaction rather than a call out; it croaks out of your throat, dusty from all its time stuck there. Awakened, his name erupts from you then, “Joel,” 

The man stops dead, then whirls around, and you stop breathing because it is him. Unable to look away, you stumble off of your horse and begin to walk towards him. It’s silent, almost frighteningly so, even if it’s just in your head, because it makes it feel like a dream, like if you so much as blink he’ll be gone or you’ll be awake. 

Joel mirrors you, then jogs, you feel hot tears behind your eyes, and then you collide, grabbing at each other like you’re making up for every lost embrace from the past five years apart. He makes a sound, holding you with his cheek on the side of your head. You shake once with a cry, a mixture of shock that keeps your eyes wide open, though blind, actualization flowing through you and into your fingers digging into his thick coat and tangling in his hair, dregs of sorrow and resentment against time finally detaching like leeches, and love, powerfully swirling around everything inside of you. 

Then you hear his voice for the first time, “Oh, baby,” and your eyes squeeze shut and you start to cry, and he holds you tighter. You can’t stop it, fueled by relief in the intense familiarity of the pressure of his arms, his scent, his voice, the way he breathes. 

Once you’re breathing properly, Joel pulls away, holding your waist. He looks you over, making sure you’re real and here, and when you are, he slips a hand under your jaw and pulls your wet face into a kiss. For a moment your lips are simply pressed, frozen, overwhelmed, and then they move, and you kiss starved, revived. The feeling of sanctuary rekindling floods you, your face quivering with tears, and you have to pull apart for a breath. 

And Joel is still here, and you hold his face in your hands because he’s so beautiful and he’s finally here. You take in each other’s new features—wrinkles, grays, scars. You slide your thumb over his cheek, feeling his rough skin, and then you meet in the stars in each other’s blown out pupils. 

Simultaneously, you start to giggle, giddy, and then you guffaw, holding each other, and Joel pulls you back in. Tightly, he sways you like a doll, and you feel his laughter through his body like against a speaker playing heavy base. Being in his arms feels like life being unpaused. 

“Tommy!” He cries over your shoulder, still laughing, “Where the fuck did’you find ‘er?” Still held tightly against him, you can’t hear Tommy’s response, but then Joel repeats “Oh, baby.” and leans his head down to loudly kiss the side of your face.

You pull away and admire him. No image that you’d drawn up in your imagination compares to Joel in the flesh. Running your hand through his longer, silvered hair, you realize just how much you were missing out on. 

“I found you.” You whisper. 

He chuckles with a wide smile, “You found me.” And then takes you back to him, “I missed you so much, baby.” 

“I missed you to death.” You mumble into him. 

Tommy’s voice sounds nearby, chuckling “Don’t smother ‘er to death, we just got ‘er back!” You part and turn to look at him with a rawly genuine grin. A sincere smile curves back. You thank him through your eyes and he nods. Joel strides past you to hug his brother, long and meaningful. 

Then he turns to you, hand still on Tommy’s shoulder, and looks you up and down. “Come on, you must be freezin’, I’ll take you up to the house.”

“The house?” You question as he guides you back up the road.

“The house.” He confirms with an amiable smirk, hugging you to his side by an arm wrapped around you. 

—

“I know, I know!” Joel enthuses as he closes the door behind you, watching you turn in a circle, mouth agape, taking in the house, which is actually fully intact, walls and furniture alike, basically clean. It smells like Joel and his jacket hangs on the pegboard on the wall next to the door. An acoustic guitar leans against the couch, which has a blanket hung over the back, there’s a mug out on the table, probably still half full and cold—this is Joel’s house. 

“Look, look,” he calls and rushes to the kitchen sink. He turns the handle and water flows out in a powerful stream, and you stride over, mouth still open in astonishment. You put your hand under the faucet and feel the water heating up. 

“Hot water!?” You cry, and you both burst out laughing again in joyful gratitude. You stop suddenly and Joel turns off the faucet. “Does this mean… shower?” Joel gives you a dramatic frown, raising his brows and shrugging, then nods his head to the stairs. Tugging at his arm, you cry out his name, thrilled. He takes off and you race him up the steps. 

“I can get’chou some clean clothes easy—how long you been wearing those?” 

“Disturbingly long.” 

Joel laughs. “You meet Tommy’s wife yet?” He looks back at you shaking your head as he opens his bedroom door, “Well, she’ll take care a ya’.” He steps into the middle of the room and turns back to you and you magnetize, holding each other by your arms. “Man, when I first got here I just kept thinkin’ how much you’d love this place.” 

The image of that almost makes you blush and your heart swells, knowing that he was still yours while you were gone, playing house with an imaginary you. “Damn straight I do. Fuck, you’ve just been livin’ it up.” Looking over his face, you’re beginning to relearn it. 

“Well, I am now.” His expression shifts from excitement into contentment and he murmurs, “I missed you so much, baby,” 

Fitting together comfortably, you join for a kiss. 

The calm of the room allows you to experience your feelings wholly, inside and out; thus, a shared heat is overt and you strip your jackets, not parting lips and hurriedly reattaching your bodies. 

“Shit,” you breathe out, craving him and finally being satisfied at the same time as his warm, powerful hands move over you, sliding up and down your sides, your back, up your forearm as your hand brushes over his face and into his hair and with your other you squeeze his thick bicep. He walks you into the wall, clutching your middle to him with an arm wrapped around you. His other hand drags from your face down your neck, flush against your skin as he continues slowly lowering it further, past your collarbone. Your chest expanding in a deep breath lifts it into his hand and Joel swears, then repeats in a murmur, “I missed you so much baby.” You respond with a whimper and wetter kiss, pulling him ever closer, and he swears again, the hand on your back clenching the fabric of your shirt. Then he moves it to the underside of your leg, between your thigh and your ass, and lifts, holding your thigh next to his leg with your foot dangling, toes curling in your boot. Truth is, no one has touched you since Joel, save for yourself, so he’s driving you crazy right now.

Your mouths together compose a natural melody, one motion rolling into the next, constantly finding and looking for more and you’re obsessed again with his flavor. If this lasted forever you wouldn’t even notice. But, just as he moans into your lips, Joel suddenly pulls back and holds you away by your waist.

You rest your hands on his forearms. “Joel?” You inquire, catching your breath, and then slide a hand over his cheek and under his chin to lift his head, looking for some kind of communication from his expression. He meets your eyes for only a second before he lets go of you completely, turning away and walking to the other side of the room. 

You stay where you are, granting him space. “Joel? What’s wrong?” He turns to you but his head is bowed. “…Joel?” Anxiety scratches at your heart and you wipe your mouth. 

Sighing heavily, he slowly rubs his hand over his face before finally speaking up, “Look… before we… go any further, I gotta ask…” he leans his hand on the short dresser and when he looks up his expression is unexpectedly serious. “Is there someone else?”

It takes you a couple seconds to put it together, but you ask anyway, just to make sure, “…What do you mean?”

Instantly, he replies, “You know what I mean.” Firmer this time, he repeats, “Is there someone else?” Confounded, you’re tongue tied, and he takes it as confirmation of his suspicions. “There is, isn’t there?” He almost sneers.

The atmosphere has shifted dramatically; just a few minutes ago he was laughing brightly with you, and about thirty seconds ago he was caressing you, amorous and loving.

“Are you joking?” Joel’s face says ‘what do you think?’ and you screw your own face up. “Are you asking me if I have some secret partner?” You ask once again just to be sure. He says nothing, only looks on unrelentingly and puts his hands on his hips, bent knee sticking out. You laugh coldly. “Holy shit.”

Near monotone, he asks, “Why’s that funny?”

“I just—wasn’t expecting this, at all, I mean this is just… do you realize how much of a jackass you’re being right now?” You pause, he says nothing. “Well, I’m not having a fucking affair. Okay? Jesus.” 

Joel huffs, keeping stoney eye contact, and grinds his teeth. You let him brew in the silence. Still, after all this time, you can read him like a book—he has convinced himself that you found someone better while he was gone and have come back only to blow sand in his eyes, and then you’re going to run off to your new, superior lover, leaving him on his ass in the mud. And although he doesn’t want it to be true, he always puts so much faith into awful assumptions, and he hates being wrong. 

You sigh in understanding but speak to him sternly, “Joel, you are making this shit up in your head and just putting it on me. That’s not fair. Don’t do this. There’s no reason to do this.”

Defensively, he suddenly raises his voice, “I jus’ wanna make sure I’m not steppin’ on any toes.” With a bite, he finishes, “I’m jus’ sayin’, if there is someone else, now’s the time to leave.” 

Your expression turns unsympathetic, brow pinched and mouth parted in amazement, and then you counter venomously, “I don’t know who you think I am. I don’t know what kind of twisted version of me you’ve created in your head. Are you trying to call me a fucking slut? That’s the kind of narrative you've thought up? That’s what you’ve been thinking about while I’ve been gone—me betraying you?”

Joel’s eyes are closed and his head is shaking before you even finish, pinching his brow with two fingers, “No, no,”

You cut right back in, “Alright, well that’s what it fucking sounds like to me so I am going to leave now—not to run off to some paramour,” you spit, “but because you’re being a fucking asshole and need to run this one back through before you talk to me again.” 

“W–wait,” He tries, but you’ve already spun on your heel, snatching up your jacket, and rush out with heavy footsteps. You don’t bother closing his front door behind you and don’t look back, not hearing anything either. 

You don’t know this town yet, but you keep the same pace you left Joel’s with and just follow the road, packed white with hard snow. The sharp air makes your eyes water and you swipe your hands at them blurring your vision. Your breaths, fast with your fiery heartbeat, blow steamy clouds like puffs of white smoke. 

You stop the first passerby you see, “There’s a bar here, right?” Your tongue hasn’t fully cooled yet and you try not to sound harsh. You’re almost out of breath. 

“Yeah,” the tall woman’s voice is mousy and she tucks stray black hair into her hat, then turns and points, “just follow this road, you’ll come to Main Street, it’ll be on your right.” As she turns her head back to you she adds, “It’s called the Tispy Bison.”

“Thank you.” you nod, do your best to smile, and continue on.

—

A rush of warm air blows out through the door swinging open and your nose starts to run as you step into the Tipsy Bison. It appears very ‘American’ themed, with its warm, inoffensively red walls, everything country–style wood, and taxidermy wall mounts. Crowning bright soda fridges are neon red Coca–Cola logos. A few lively groups are scattered about, talking and laughing. Blinking into the reality of the massive dining hall, you wipe your nose with your sleeve; it’s so much like the world before and for some reason it intimidates you. As you scan the room, you spot Tommy at the bar and remember you’re thirsty.

He smiles when he notices you approaching but it fades and he furrows his brow as he regards your expression. You slip into the chair next to him and he turns his torso to face you, one arm resting over the back of his seat, the other on the bar with a beer in his hand.

A gravelly voice from behind the bar asks, “What can I get ya?” and you turn to a friendly looking woman with thick, coily hair and dark teeth.

“Surprise me.”

“Gotcha. Comin’ right up.” She smiles and moves away. 

Turning your attention back to Tommy, his brow is still furrowed, as it is most of the time, really, and he bites his lip. “Trouble in paradise?”

You turn forward to rest your elbows on the bar and slide your head through your hands, pulling your cheeks, then resting them on the sides of your head. “Your brother’s being a little shit.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, he’s pretty good at that. What’e’do?”

During the time you’d been with Joel, you became close with his brother, too. Tommy has always been easy to talk to and you pick right up where you left off. It’s nice to have someone to talk candidly to about Joel, and you’re sure he feels the same. 

“Same kind of shit he always does—assume the worst in everyone and stick them with it for no fucking reason.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty classic Joel.” He sips his beer and smacks his lips. “You know he does really love you, though.”

“No, I know, I mean, I can tell even with this,” you remove your hands from your head and turn to him, “he’s accusing me of having ‘someone else’,” you air quote as you confide, “like I’m having a fucking affair. Came outta nowhere.” Looking to the side to blow out a breath, your eyes automatically flick around your surroundings.

“He’s just insecure.”

“I know. It’s not like I’m cutting him off or anything, and I want to stay in Jackson, I just told him to… cool off, in so many words. You know I love him too, I just had to fucking leave.” 

Just then, the voice sounds again beside you, “Here’s that surprise for ya.” She places a short, ribbed glass in front of you, a blood orange drink on the rocks. 

“Thank you.” You immediately take a swig and it’s bittersweet and smooth. 

As you do, Tommy says, “Yeah, good call. He just needs to get checked sometimes, y’know? He’ll figure it out. He’s just… yeah, he’s insecure.”

Looking down into your drink, you add, “He hates himself.” and spin the glass over the smooth bar. “That’s his worst quality. That’s the only thing I would change about him.”

Tommy sighs. “I think what makes it worse for him is how much he loves you.” He shakes his head, “He just gets so damn scared. He has no idea how strong he is, how good he is… I think we see a real different version of him than he does.” You nod. There’s a beat of silence before he continues, “It’s just… loss, y’know? It’s like he just wants’t’ beat it to the punch. He always feels like he’s doin’ sum’n wrong. Always thinkin’ it’s his fault.” 

You nod again. “You said it: he sees a real different version of himself than we do. I just wish I could…” you suck your teeth and turn to him, “I keep trying to talk him out of it, you know? Do you think that works?”

He looks down to think for a while, then looks back at you and concludes, “I think… it’s gotta be him.” 

You nod, “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

To lighten the mood, Tommy smiles, “Well, don’tchou worry, he’ll be crawlin’ back t’you with his tail between his legs any second now.” You ‘psh’, looking ahead and admiring the warm-toned colored bottles shelved on the wall. Then he adds, “You’ll never lose ‘im, you know.”

You sip your drink and roll his words around with it, full, mellow, but strongly bittersweet. You and Joel had been separated for a long time, wherein all you had was faith, and you gripped that rope tight and never let go, just like he would for you, just like he did for Tommy. Joel has yet to let you down—he’s fucked up many times, but he’s never let you down, because he puts his heart into everything he does; it’s maybe his most admirable and most troubling trait. He loves so hard it hurts, sometimes not just him. You’ll never run out of patience though, because he’s your Joel, and you love him to death. He hit you like a bullet, quick and good, and he’s lodged somewhere inside of you, unretrievable. 

“Speak a the devil.” Tommy’s voice breaks you out of reflection, looking past you, and you turn to see Joel, halfway in the doorway, devastating eyes and all. For a moment you just watch him, awkward in the doorway, admiring his presence, but you keep a straight, neutral face. You look back at Tommy as you take a last swig of your drink and he smiles with understanding eyes. 

Hopping down from your stool and strolling towards Joel, you have to bite hard back a smile, though you’re still pissed. Catching him doing the same, you briefly question why you have to do this dance instead of just leaping back into each other, mixing into your color and staying like that in his bed, which must be so soft and comfortable and warm with him in it. He is so god damn beautiful and it’s been so long that your hands twist nervously behind your back and you feel yourself blushing, so you turn your head down as you near him. You have good reason to show him you’re upset, though—the dance is important. 

“Can we talk?” He asks you, voice entirely soft. 

You look up at him, pause, and then nod. Joel turns back outside slowly and does more than he needs to to hold the door for you.

Winter is near its end but you’ve arrived just in time for a cold snap; the wind has picked up significantly in the short time you’ve been inside, icey and sharp, and you bend your head down against it and hug yourself. Joel starts to put his arm around you but pulls away, glancing at you with awkward steps towards his house. 

“Hold me.” You answer, so he does, arm around your shoulders, curving himself around you as the wind whips. The man is a living furnace, you can feel it even like this. 

—

It’s silent until you’re back in Joel’s house, too cold and windy for any kind of conversation. Adjusting to the indoors, you both blow out sighs, and Joel impulsively helps you out of your coat and hangs it on the peg next to his on the wall by the door. Then he just stands awkwardly; he’s never been good at this. What’s important, though, is that he’s trying. Waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts, you lean against a wall with your hands behind your back. After a moment, he looks around, sucking his teeth, and then moves ungainly to sit in a chair at the table. You follow and sit across from him. More silence, he fiddles with his hands on the table in front of him and grinds his teeth. Under the table, you run a finger back and forth over the wood’s grooves on its apron. 

“Okay,” he starts, then pauses, keeping his gaze on his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice sounds rehearsed, like he said ‘I’m sorry’ in his head twenty times before he spoke it. “I was wrong. I didn’t mean t’… I mean I’d be pissed too, if you said sum’n like that to me. I know that’s not you. I was jus’… scared,” he wills the word out, looking off to some spot on the floor, “You’re right, I,” he pauses, then motions his hand up in circles next to his head, “I jus’, made this whole story up in my head. I mean we haven’t even talked about, y’know, what’s happened in the past five years. I have no idea what you did or didn’t do, and it’s not my business unless you want it to be. I jus’, I don’t know,” he shifts back in his chair and fiddles with his hands again, “I was just afraid that y’d… forgott’n about me or found someone better or, uhh…y–y–”

Watching him start to fumble over his words, you decide that now is an ok time to cut in, starting quiet and gentle, “I didn’t.” Joel looks at you as you speak, his brow furrowed up. “I never forgot about you. I thought about you every day. I was scared, too, I didn’t know anything about how you were doing or where you were, I didn’t know if I was ever gonna see you again, but I just lived like I would. I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t, I wasn’t able to. And there’s no one better, Joel,” you slide your hand over the table to take one of his. He unclasps them to fold it in and watches his thumb stroke over your hand. “You are the only one. What I feel for you can’t be touched. Even if I tried, I don’t think I could be with anyone else. But I didn’t try. All I did was miss you.”

At that, Joel takes your hand with both of his, taking a deep breath, and then leans in to place soft kisses over your knuckles, peering up at you as he does. A bolt in your core throbs heat into the rest of your body and you feel slightly dizzy. Again, you haven't had any kind of touch like this since the last time you were with Joel, so you’re starving for it, but above all, for Joel. His lips are gentle, his hands are warm and burly folded around yours. 

You slip your hand out of his and get up from the table. He watches you walk to his side to fix your level of separation and he stands and joins you back into an embrace. 

You sink into each other, bodies and minds fusing as if you were never apart. You match temperatures so all you feel is the pressure of his hands sliding up your back, under your shirt. In his hold, your back is arched and your hips are met; there’s barely any space between your bodies at all. You hold onto his face, running your hands over it, messing up his hair, focusing on his lips, letting him do the work on your body. Joel places a hand on the front of your thigh and starts slowly dragging it up. You twitch under it, desire like a lightning storm around under his touch. You nearly jerk into it and he finally slides his broad hand flush between your thighs. Your head falls back and he doesn’t miss a beat, moving his lips on your neck, and it forces a moan out of you. 

“You like that?” He says into your skin, barely out of a kiss, nose pressed against it. 

“Yes,” you whine, “please, oh my god.”

You feel Joel smile into your neck and he nips it. “Jump up.” You do, his hands out and ready to catch your thighs. This was a regular trick of yours and apparently your bodies haven’t forgotten it. As he starts for the stairs, you lean yourself over his shoulder. The placement of his hands are in both the best and worst spot, splayed just barely over every area you want him to touch. You hold onto his neck as he brings you upstairs and laugh when he kicks his bedroom door open, making it bang loudly against the wall. Once you drop back down to the ground, you connect your mouths again and immediately start to strip. While you struggle with the buttons on his shirt he undoes his belt and jeans and then yours. You rip his flannel off of him, annoyed at it, and then slide your hands under his shirt. You feel over his chest, around his back, and up his sides, relishing in it, and he chuckles into your lips before helping you pull it off. He wastes no time on your shirt, loving that you’re braless, caressing your chest, and then pulls you in, pressing your bare fronts together. You moan in the satisfaction of feeling him like this again. His calloused hands run smoothly up your back and on their way down pass briefly under your waistband. You raise him by slipping your hand all the way into his jeans, cupping his hardening cock. He swears into your mouth as you find hold of it. It electrifies you further, having forgotten about this part of him. Quickening breaths deepen the rise and fall of your chest against his.

He pulls his lips from yours and his voice is gruff when he says, “You’re killin’ me darlin’.”

The tone and the way he’s hardening in your hands is driving you wildly lustful and you tell him frankly, voice pitched high, “I want you so bad Joel I love your cock I need you to fuck me,” all of this wet into his lips. 

Immediately, Joel tugs down your pants, but when they’re at your knees, he pulls away to look at you and he says “Boots.” You both laugh breathily and sit down on the edge of his bed—your pants still halfway down—undoing your laces hastily. He finishes first and then helps you untie the laces of your other shoe, both of you chuckling with heavy breaths. You kick them off and then Joel moves in front of you, taking hold of the cuffs of your jeans to pull them off. Once they are, in one swift motion, he opens your legs up with his in between them, and, still standing but leaning over you on the bed, he slips his hand back between your legs. He places it flush against you through your underwear, which would be embarrassingly dirty, but who fucking cares? They’ll be gone soon anyway. Joel’s mouth opens amorously, watching your eyes as you let out a long, embarrassingly pornographic moan at the raw enough contact. He slides down deeper, the heel of his hand pressing lightly and thrillingly on your clit and you gasp into another moan. He grins and then leans his head down to your neck, dragging his tongue up its full length.

“Fuck,” you drawl involuntarily as a shiver runs through you and you hook your arms under his to claw his back. When Joel slides his hand back up between your legs, wetness seeps from your slit. Joel chuckles erotically, his breath over the line of his saliva on your neck making it worse and your legs open wider. The heat under his hand matches that in your chest and your breaths are more desperate in want of him.

Fed up of him taking it so slow, you slide your hands under him and push him up, holding onto his biceps to pull you up with him as he stands, and lick into his mouth. Your other hand goes straight into his pants and under his briefs, teasing him like he had you. When he moans into your mouth you squeeze only slightly and then slowly move your hand up until your thumb comes to the spot just before the underside of his tip. You begin working it like that, teasing him wet and sensitive in your hand. 

Joel pulls his face away from yours, eyes closed, and breathes out “Shit.” He squeezes the arm reached down and moves his hips into your hand. You keep at it, biting your lip watching him. “Ah, oh, fuck,” he mumbles, almost sluring his words, and warns, “If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” when you do stop, he groans. 

Bringing your hand away from him, you settle it on his belly and wrap your other arm around his neck to nuzzle your face into it and mumble, “I missed your cock so much, I miss feeling it, I wanna see you cum,”

“Fuck.” Joel states, then commands, “Lay back on the bed.” You do as you’re told, propping yourself up with your forearms behind you on the bed and watch him drop his pants. Finally naked, his cock bounces to flip onto his stomach, reaching just under his belly button; dark curls hide everything else. Your sigh is almost a moan just looking at him, like a meaty roman sculpture of the exemplary man. His brow shadows sultry eyes and, like an animal in heat, you open your legs, peering up at him needily.

He slowly crawls over you and whispers, “Move up for me darlin’,” nodding his head to the side for you to lay properly on the bed, head on his pillow. He reaches past you to click on the bedside lamp and then sits up on his knees, admiring you under the golden–yellow light. He places a large hand on your stomach, adding pressure as he slivers it up to fondle your chest.

You appreciate the sentiment, but you have plenty of time for slow, worship sex, and right now, “Joel please I need you to fuck me,”

Smirking, he growls, “Since you asked so nice,” and lowers himself onto you, kissing sluggishly. He doesn’t bother to remove his face from against yours to take your underwear off, just tugs at them until they find their way to slip off. Then, as he positions himself, your thigh slides over his—it’s small, but something about it makes you sigh sensually.

“You ready for me baby?” Joel asks, hovering his lips over yours.

You could come up with some clever remark but now is not the time, so you simply whine, “Yes, Joel, please, I need you,”

“Yeah?” He says, low and lazy, and then moans softly as he eases his thick length into you. Deep satisfaction flows through you as he fills you up, humming and moaning. Your foreheads press together as you adjust, both your mouths wide open, and Joel’s fist clutches the sheets next to your head. He brings himself back out slowly until only his tip is inside you, and then his free hand clutches your side as if to hold you in place as he reinserts himself and begins thrusting, now only barely pulling any length out before plunging back in. Your lungs jump and clumsy moans pour out of you as the force of it rocks your hips. 

Joel licks your cheek and then, grabbing hold of your hips to keep himself inside you, pulls himself to sit on his knees. Stretching your arms up, you bear yourself to him, and his mouth has yet to close. He bites his lip before starting to fuck you again, both harder and faster, holding your lower back completely off of the bed. 

“Only me, huh?” He says, breaths bumping as he drives himself into you, “I’m the only one that touches you?”

“Yes,” you moan out. 

“You touched yourself, though did’n you?” You answer in the same way, “You thought about me while you did, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” you sound, high pitched as he starts to fuck you harder. 

“Did it feel this good?”

“No,” your drawn out answer catches with the force of his hips pounding against you. 

Joel’s head falls back as he speeds up and you already feel yourself start to constrict around him. 

“Shit,” he looks back down at you, hums aggressively, and slows his pace dramatically. “No baby, not yet, not yet.” As he pulls out fully, precum flicks onto your stomach and he drops your hips. Back down on top of you, your body weighs into the bed under his and your mouths bond again.

Joel can’t keep his cock out of you for long, though, keeping up messy kisses, each rolling into the next in a flux, he shoves his hand down to slip back into you and fucks a quick tempo that makes the bed creak. One of his hands stays planted on the bed next to your head and the other goes back to hold your hip, pulling you into him with each of his thrusts. Angled slightly up inside of you, he hits a spot that produces a guttural moan from you, and while your mouth is wide open with it, Joel doesn’t quit biting and licking at your lips. 

Your body reacts without you, your hand slithering over him—up his arms, his torso, his back, one landing to grip his hair and the other reaching at his hip. The way he bucks into you now hinders your ability to kiss but your faces rub and touch, sharing the same hot air, moaning over each other. 

After one loud, long moan, Joel pulls out of you again in a swift motion, moaning through pants. 

“Joel why the fuck do you keep stopping,” you slap your palms on his chest in frustration, legs still spread under him. 

“Well I js’ don’t wanna cum too fast,” he answers innocently.

“Joel I have been waiting five years…” he starts to chuckle and you smile, “for you to cum.” You slap his chest again and then decide to take this matter into your own hands, pushing him up to get yourself on top. You straddle him, his cock resting stiff and shining on his stomach. Back up at his face, you look into dark eyes, his lips parted with heavy breaths, and you slide your fingers through his hair, gripping a bunch, silver strands highlighted in the light. Keeping eye contact, Joel’s fingers trail lightly down either of your sides as you sit up, sliding his joystick into your hold, and he hums as you sit down on it. After adjusting to his throbbing size, you come up and back down slowly a few times, and then begin swinging your hips to fuck him. A loud, long moan cracks out of him and he closes his eyes and seizes your hips. You release his hair and instead hold into his thick, veiny forearms like handlebars as you accelerate. He moans, long and loud again, and, keeping up a beat with your hips, you lay down on him, pressing your body against his, and eat the moans from his mouth. He adjusts his hold by wrapping an arm around the middle of your back to hold you down and squeezing your ass with the other as if to help your hips along. To keep yourself stabilized enough to keep your mouths together—you could barely call it kissing anymore, just sliding tongues and lips however you can—you plant your hands on the bed with your arms like you would doing a pushup. 

Even though you’re on top, Joel is in control now, holding you to fuck up into you.

He angles his head down so that your foreheads stay pressed but he can speak, “Fuck babygirl you feel so good, so fuckin’ tight, I fill you up so good, huh? Pussy’s just for me to cum in, huh? All fr’ me? All mine? Can you tell me you’re all mine?” His words and breaths catch with the rhythm of the surging flux of your bodies rolling together. You feel his muscles jolting in his lower abdomen as he drives in and out and those in his arm twitching against your back with the force of it. The way he fills you is carnally satisfying and overdue and you never want it to stop.

“Yes, yes, all yours, all for you, my pussy’s all for you—fuuck—yours, my pussy belongs to you,”

“Thas’ right, babygirl, you belong to me.” He takes your bottom lip with his teeth and pulls your mouth back to roll his tongue into and unfurls his arm around you to grasp a bundle of hair. 

Suddenly, he maneuvers you to flump your back on the bed, bringing himself back on top, and immediately stuffs himself back into you. He grips your hips again to fuck you like he was before, controlling you like a doll, and you grab onto his wrists.

“Fuck, babygirl,” he continues, fucking with an immediately brutal pace, hitting you somewhere deep and perfect but he’s talking over you too much to be able to tell him you’re going to cum, “I was so spolied, I didn’ realize how spoiled I was with this lil’ pussy,” he bumps you hard and rough a couple times to emphasize, “perfect lil’ pussy on my perfect lil’ girl, my sweet girl, so good to me,” Joel tilts forward, keeping himself securely deep between your legs, and releases one of your hips—which you would not be surprised to be bruised exactly in the form of his fingers—to stroke his hand over your cheek, and then gently hooks his thumb in your mouth, pulling your lip out to the side. “Now I get t’ fuck you every fuckin’ night, cause you’re all mine n’ I’m all yours, gonna make you cum every fuckin’ night,” your hips inadvertently lurch against him and you bark a moan and his thumb trails out of your mouth as your head leans back onto the bed. You haven’t had your body move like this in awhile, an animal in and of itself, innately greedy for its mate. Joel sounds almost excited when he says, “Ooh, oh, you gonna cum babygirl?” He sits back on his calves rather than standing on his knees and readjusts his hold on your hips, hands digging into the flesh defining your waist to your hips, and pulls you into his rough, uncoordinated thrusts, driving the entirety of his shaft into you so deep that you feel pressure pushing up in your stomach with each rocking tug. He pants out moans, watching you attentively as your face screws up while you reach your personal crescendo. 

The only time you feel this desperate for something is when you’re about to die—such a blind need, a moment stretched out that you will to continue until you are satiated, and oh does Joel deliver. 

“Go on babygirl, go on n’ cum for me, cum around my cock, be a good girl an’ show me you’re mine, I wanna make you cum, baby cum for me, cum for me,” 

His pleading encouragement is more than enough to pierce the balloon swelling in your stomach, already being bumped rapturously by his manhood. One of your hands is thrown back, grasping at the sheets, the other remaining around his wrist. Your eyes roll back in your head, you suck in a breath and there is a moment of silence, save for the creaking bed, before you break it with a ridiculous, long moan, perceiving only the bursts of ecstasy from Joel’s messy pace, which he quickens with breathy moans. Your contractions around him are dramatic, essentially sucking his dick inside of you like instinct. He pulls you against him and is mostly still besides his hips, which rapidly lurch, drawing out your orgasm to overlap with his. He falls silent again, mouth open and his brow furrowed, eyes also nearly rolled back in his head, as he mechanically glides short in and outs, nearly all of him buried inside of you, pulling back an inch at a time at most as he uses your trembling, sheathlike pussy to stroke out his cum. Then, as his hips jerk forward, leaning into you, and then jerk in again, moans squeeze out of his throat, and he finishes pressed into you. 

Panting, you stay pressed and gaze at each other, more or less astonished. 

“God damn.” Joel is the first to comment.

You laugh, out of breath, feeling him ooze inside of you. “We really get to do that every night.”

“My god I’m in heaven.” He half jokes with a smile, then relaxes your position with a huff, letting his softening length fall out and rest over you. Joel runs his hands up and down your body in two broad strokes, looking you over, then smirks and chuckles breathily. Then he slaps your thighs and simply offers, “Shower?” and laughs as your face lights up.

“Fuck I almost forgot about that!” You grin with wide, excited eyes, and follow him off the bed, squeezing your legs together a little, still filled with his cum, as you walk to the bathroom attached to Joel’s room. You admire the back of him as he turns the squeaky knobs. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve gotten this kind of full view of him; as many times as you’ve been naked with each other, it’s almost always had to have been somewhat ducked and rushed. His back is casually muscular and he has ever so slight love handles. A knee bent outwards shows off a round ass. 

Hearing the water start to spray, you can’t help a giggle, eager, and he twists to you with a smirking grin and laughs. 

“Oh man,” he chuckles as he turns his back, meticulously adjusting the temperature, then twists his head again, looking at you expectantly, “Well come on, then,” and you patter over. He gently takes your hand to lead you into the square stall, and moves behind you to slide the glass door shut. 

There is no need for him to walk you through the process of taking a shower, but he slowly guides you under the spray anyway, and you gasp as it hits you, still heating up, not used to the sensation. You hadn't realized that it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how a shower feels and it disturbs you slightly, feeling a little feral versus Joel’s domesticated cleanliness, but his light, absent minded smile eases the thoughts out as he walks in a few slow steps, backing you up to join you under the showerhead’s broad spray. He leans his head back, closes his eyes under the water, and lets go of you to smooth his hair back as the water soaks it. When he opens his eyes again, he smiles at you and smoothes his hands over your wet face. 

“Turn around,” he nods, and you do. He stops touching you, leaving you unnerved for only a moment until his hands come back over your upper back, cool soap gliding them over your skin. He squeezes your shoulders lightly and it makes you sigh, then slides his hands over your shoulders, up and down each arm individually, adding more slight, relaxing pressure, and then his hands follow the personal downward design of your body as he shifts his body against your back. Stubble tickles your neck and you giggle as he nudges in to place innocent kisses over your neck while he washes your chest, then slipping soapy hands down your sides to your waist, hips, and what he can reach of your thighs. Humming out a deep sigh, you feel dazed and limp under the hot, deeply relaxing water. Joel embraces you from behind, just resting his face in your neck, standing still with his arms around you. 

Suddenly, you’re hit with the urge to cry. This is the safest you’ve felt in a long, long time. Not only are you in Jackson, a secure compound where you can go see a friend for a drink and take a hot shower with the promise of fresh clothes, but your love is finally with you, solid and warm, holding you with strong arms and gentle lips. You can’t hold it back, and when Joel feels it he removes himself and turns you around. “What’s wrong babygirl?” concern contorts his face. 

Smiling as much as your crying allows, you answer, “Nothing.” 

Understanding, Joel pouts his lips in an emotional smile and pulls you back in, hooking his arms under yours to support your weight, and your arms follow up around his neck. “I know.” You let it go and weep quietly against him. “It’s alright baby. I got’chou. You’re alright, darlin’.” He reassures you. After a couple minutes, you calm, suddenly very tired, barely opening your eyes when Joel pulls away. “Oh, baby,” he chuckles, “don’t go to sleep in the shower. Lemme finish you up real quick, then you can go to bed n’ I’ll get you some new clothes from Maria.”

“No,” you murmur, “don’t leave me.”

“Alright, alright,” he pulls you back in, “I’ll stay with you. I’ll never leave you.” He sighs serenely into the crook of your neck. “You can just borrow some’m my clothes, n’ I’ll talk to Maria in the mornin’. Okay?” You nod. “Alright, baby,” he readjusts his embrace around you, “let’s just get into bed, we can give you a proper shower later. Plenty a time. You can take a shower every day if you want, a hot shower every day. An’ I’ll stay with you every night. Jus’ like like this.” Joel’s hands rub up and down your body, “Warm like this. Every day will be warm jus’ like this now, my love.”

[discoscoob]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU

˙ ✩°˖🎄⋆｡˚ Ted Logan x Reader

KEANUVERSE SECRET SANTA: My contribution to @faerl’s Keanuverse secret santa project for my giftee @scarlettspectra! 🎁

SAN DIMAS, CHRISTMAS EVE 1992

Below a slanting ‘Merry Christmas’ banner, Ted is sprawled across the well worn, pre-loved couch, his long, gangly frame fitting awkwardly. Mismatched socked feet dangle over the edge of the armrest, while his arms drape snuggly around your waist as you nestle peacefully across his body with your head tucked under his chin. A santa hat sits askew atop his unruly dark locks that have fallen over his sleeping face.

You sniffle as the framed photo begins to gently blur from the gathering tears clouding your vision. Bill had captured the candid moment of you and Ted having a post Christmas dinner nap. How you wish you could travel back to that precious moment, nuzzled comfortably in Ted’s warm embrace. Of course, afterward, Bill had taken a permanent marker to both your faces, leaving the two of you with drawn-on moustaches until the new year — it earned Ted some strange glances when he served customers at Pretzels ‘n’ Cheese.

Carefully returning the photo to its pride of place on your nightstand, you pick up the mixtape Ted sent you. The hand drawn candy canes, forming the shape of a love-heart on the cover, brings a watery smile to your lips — reminding you how much thought he puts into even the simplest of gestures. The smooth melody of Please Come Home for Christmas by Charles Brown drifts from the cassette player and seeps straight into your aching heart, stoking the heavy swell of longing that presses against your chest.

Yesterday, Ted called you from a payphone at Fairbanks Airport with the devastating news that a blizzard was grounding all the flights, forcing him to holdover at the military base in Alaska for the holidays.

The moment you pressed the phone to your ear and he uttered your name in a quiet quiver, you knew something was wrong. Your heart sank like a boulder. He sounded so defeated. The two of you had exchanged stacks of letters filled with plans and promises of making the most of your time together over the holiday season, hoping to compensate for the months spent apart. Now, you can’t even talk to him over the phone because the lines are down.

You haven’t physically seen him since he left for military school in the spring — the longest the two of you have ever been apart since you met in high school. Both you and Bill had begged him not to go, insisting that you were happy to support him as he couch-surfed between your place and Bill’s dad’s after his own father flat-out refused to take him back in. That refusal came after he and Bill got evicted from their apartment for falling behind on the rent.

At that time, it felt like one knock back after another. With the band going nowhere, no matter how hard they tried, Ted couldn’t shake the feeling that he was a burden and a failure. His father’s relentless words would echo in the back of his mind, always there to remind him he would never amount to anything.

It had all come to a head one night after yet another failed audition to get on the bill at some music club. That’s when Ted ran into Colonel Oats. The man barely had to say a word — just a gruff “it’s not too late” — and something inside Ted broke. He was so beaten down, so full of self-doubt, that he thought it might be his only option left. A week later, he was packing for Alaska.

You had wept your heart out — not only for the fact that Ted would be miles away, but for how beat down he must’ve felt to even consider leaving in the first place. You had let him down. You hadn’t reminded him enough of how incredible he was. You hadn’t defeated his father’s voice in his head. You felt like a terrible girlfriend.

You cross the room, switch off the cassette player, and eject the mixtape just as the opening notes of Darlene Love’s Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) start playing. Ironically, most of the songs Ted had chosen were about longing for loved ones to be home for the holidays, and with him stormbound in Alaska, they’ve become unbearable to listen to.

Your doorbell chimes and you quickly check your reflection in the mirror above your dresser. Puffy red eyes stare back at you with glistening tears reflecting the glow of twinkling Christmas lights, you soak them up on the sleeve of your sweater in vain as more soon gather.

As soon as you open the door, a hard chest ploughs into you, almost knocking you off balance until a pair of strong arms swoop you off your feet — all before you even get a good look at your visitor. You would have kicked and screamed if it weren’t for the sweet scent of blue raspberry swaddling your senses, Ted’s favourite candy, inviting you to sink into his sturdy embrace.

With all the enthusiasm of a boisterous Great Dane, blissfully ignorant of its own colossal size and strength,

Ted clutches you tightly against him, his arms noticeably bulkier than the gangly limbs you recall.

He burrows his face into the curve of your neck as you cradle the back of his head, eager to delve your fingers into his thick tousled mane. Instead, they stroke over smooth, freshly chopped strands. You falter briefly, before pulling back to get your first proper look at him since he arrived on your doorstep.

“Your hair…” you blink, momentarily stunned as you drink in the sight of him. Where an unruly mop of tousled locks once sprouted and tumbled over his eyes, there’s now a military buzz cut, clipped uniformly to reveal the sharp angles of his face and stubble-dusted jaw.

You didn’t intend for that to be the first thing you said to him after all this time apart, it tumbled out before you could stop it. You wince, realising how many other things you could have — no, should have — said instead.

“You hate it.” Ted’s broad grin falters as he sheepishly rubs the nape of his neck, dipping his gaze to the floor, clearly self-conscious.

Your lips part, and you quickly shake your head, your heart hammering at the thought he might believe you could hate anything about him.

“You… your ears will get cold.” you caress his jaw, noticing the reddened tips of his ears.

Your concern eases his pink lips into a coy smile as he leans his rose-tinted cheek into your warm palm.

“Mhm… then you’d best let me in before I turn into a popsicle or something.”

Wrapping your fingers around the edge of his jacket, you tug him inside as he kicks the door shut against the cold with the heel of his combat boot. He eases his bass guitar case carefully against the wall and shrugs his heavy duffle bag off his shoulder, letting it thud softly to the floor.

“I don’t understand…” you step back deeper into the living room, still tugging Ted along with you. “How did you get here? I thought the flights were grounded.”

“Santa’s sleigh!” he jokes with a giggle, ducking his head to pepper kisses across your cheeks and forehead. His enormous hands hold you steady while his eyes sparkle with delight.

You’ve always known Ted to be affectionate — it’s undeniable that physical touch is his love language. But even by his standards, there’s a noticeable shift. As they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder — and in Ted’s case, bolder. His once restrained and hesitant displays of affection, shaped by his benign nature and lack of experience, have given way to a liberated eagerness to show you just how much he’s missed you.

“There’s this, like, total rich dude at school,” he pauses just long enough to rest his forehead against yours. “His dad’s some mayor or something, like, really important. He managed to pull a few strings and got a private jet to fly him out.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his dilated pupils flicker to your neck. “And… he offered me a ride.”

“Wait…” there’s a noticeable flutter in your voice when he starts kissing the side of your neck, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “A private jet?”

“Hm-hm…” his warm breath fans across your skin and you feel his lips twitch into a smile. “Felt like a total rockstar.”

Ted raises his head with a softening expression. “I missed you.” he murmurs, his doe eyes briefly meeting yours with timid sincerity, before dropping back to the carpeted floor.

“I missed you too, Ted. So much.” gently, you curl your forefinger under his chin, giving him a soft nudge to lift his head. As he looks up, you lean in and press a tender welcome home kiss to his lips.

˙ ✩°˖🎄⋆｡˚

Cocooned by Ted’s impressive wingspan, his chin hooks over your shoulder as his nimble fingers flit across the fretboard with a newfound ease. No longer is he serenading you with out-of-tune melodies or clumsy, off-beat riffs. Now, you’re motivated to softly sing along to the unmistakable, toe-tapping groove of one of your favourite songs.

The fluidity of his precise and controlled movements are so captivating, you’re locked in an almost hypnotic trance as your gaze lingers on his long and skilful fingers. The dedication he must’ve poured into practicing during his downtime at military school is remarkable, however, your unrestrained mind is soon bombarded with vivid images of all the possible ways you could reap the benefits of his enhanced dexterity.

Regrettably, the visions only intensify when he gently guides your far less experienced fingers along the neck of his bass while his breath tickles along the shell of your ear with soft-spoken instructions. You gulp, noticing that it’s not just the calloused tips of his fingers that are new. A fresh scar cuts across the back of his hand, presumably left behind by the whip of a snapped string — a subtle badge of honour to his devotion and passion for music.

Unfortunately, a dark cloud lingers at the back of your mind, casting a shadow over the moment, reminding you of how fleeting it is. When the new year arrives, Ted will return to Alaska and you won’t see him again until blossoms bloom on the trees and rainbows are painted across the sky after sunshowers. While you want to be content and savour the moment, there’s a throbbing ache in your chest that is impossible to ignore, it snatches your focus and prevents you from fully appreciating the time you have together.

“Babe, you totally keep zoning out.” Ted teases, cutting through your spiralling thoughts to pull your focus back to the present.

“Huh?” you freeze, trying to buy yourself some time to come up with an excuse by feigning confusion. You’re already working on eradicating whatever outward expression you were wearing as you nose-dived through the whirlwind of trepidation.

Your Ted, ever patient and sweet, sets his bass aside with care to give you his undivided attention, attentively settling his now-empty hands lightly on your knees.

“Something’s wrong. What is it?” he coaxes, his brows scrunching with concern.

You rearrange your face into a smile, trying to alleviate that heavy pressure in your chest.

“I’m just distracted by how skillful you’ve become with your fingers now.” you tease, your smile turning cheeky as you take his larger hand in your own, pressing your lips to his calloused tips.

“Oh…” Ted gulps, his cheeks tingeing pink as he shyly averts his gaze. Even after all these years together, Ted still becomes a flustered puppy at the slightest hint of suggestiveness.

In the background, Die Hard plays on the staticky TV. Neither of you have been paying much attention, but just as Hans Gruber plummets from the window of Nakatomi Plaza, Ted blurts out, "I'm not going back to Alaska in the new year."

Your head snaps toward him, your wide eyes meeting his as your mouth falls agape.

"What?"

"I'm not going back," he repeats, and the weight of his words settles over you like the warmest blanket, replacing the suffocating mass of anxiety that had been choking you moments before.

Your face eases into a genuine, uncontainable smile as your heart leaps weightlessly in your chest. You throw your arms around him, nearly knocking him across the couch in your excitement. “I’m so relieved you’re not leaving. I couldn’t bear saying goodbye again.”

“Me neither.” Ted mirrors your smile as he secures his arms around you properly, but there’s a slight shadow in his expression — something else lingering unsaid.

“There’s, uh… there’s more,” he says, tugging himself back but keeping his hands on your shoulders.

“More?”

“I’ve um… like put in an application to the LAPD.” the excitement bubbling in your chest is replaced by confusion.

"Wait. You want to be a cop?"

Ted nods slowly.

"Like... your dad?"

Ted looks startled, his brows shoot up and he waves his hands as if trying to manually wash away the thought from your mind.

“Woah, no way! That, like- he has nothing to do with it. I mean, I don’t care about what he thinks anymore. It’s… I dunno-” he looks down at his lap, his shoulders lifting slightly in a small shrug. “I had a lot of time to think in Alaska and… I guess I was actually pretty good at some of the stuff they taught us… for the first time in forever, I felt like I wasn’t flailing around trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life. And maybe… maybe I could use that to help people… like be a hero or something.”

You tilt your head as his words settle over you, still processing them. Despite his sincerity, apprehension lingers. You can’t shake the worry that he might be rushing into something else he feels he has to do — just like he did with military school. "But... the LAPD?"

"Yeah." His gaze softens, and his lips curve into that sweet, earnest smile that always makes your heart flutter. "I don't want to go all the way back to Alaska. I can't stand the thought of being away from you again until the spring. If I stay in LA, I'll be much closer… and maybe…” he pauses, his smile turning hopeful. “Maybe you could even come with me…”

Your breath hitches at his words and the endearing sight of his hopeful smile. You don’t even question the thought of uprooting your life to follow Ted, there’s no doubt in your mind, your heart belongs with his. Before you can respond, his hand drifts up to play with a strand of your hair, idly twirling it around his finger as he gazes at you, his voice softening.

“I know it’s a lot to think about, you don’t have to decide anything right now.”

“I’d follow you anywhere, Ted.” you assure him, needing no time to make up your mind.

Ted’s face lights up brighter than the Christmas lights.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He pulls you into his arms again, his fingers threading through your hair with care. You close your eyes, nestling into the crook of his neck as Ted tucks his head against your shoulder.

Credit to @scarlettspectra for the headcanon that Jack Traven is older Ted if he was sent to military school. I love that headcanon so much and I had to steal it writing this so technically this is a little bit of a pre-speed Jack fic too. Chopping off Ted’s floppy hair did hurt me though 😔

My little easter egg is that the rich kid who’s father is the mayor is Scott Favor who was forced to go to military school if he wanted to receive his inheritance

[tainted-liquor]

'Tiny hands; Little Baby ...ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ ft. 42Miles

...‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

✩ingredients: Sugar, kisses, and baby powder!

˙⟡TWs: Cussing, Miles speaks mostly Spanish, so ready ur spanishDict

✩A/N: Miles is soft when it comes to his children. Its not ooc, he was based off of MY sisters father. parents usually 'calm down' after having babies. pls don't start complaining

When you think of the ideal father, you usually would think of two types of people. The happy-go-lucky super kind and outgoing person, or someone who balances both fun and order. You never in your life expected to be a mother, or even wanted kids as a matter of fact. But everything changed when you met him. Miles.

Admittedly, when you met in high school shit was rocky. Typical 'anti-social social' kid. Everybody knew him, but nobody was ever able to say they talked to him. But things slowly began to change as the school year passed, and you seemed to pop up more and more in each other's lives. Art projects, a shared interest in graffiti, seating charts in chem, and ending up at the same bodega during the wee hours of the night.

You waltzed into the small store, grabbing a tube of Pringles and a bottle of cherry Faygo. You had a project to get done within the next 5 hours and spent 3 days working nonstop so you wouldn't fail this semester. Your eyes were low and sleepy, your movement was slower than average and it looked like you had been crying. A lot. What is a girl supposed to do when she feels like her life is being drowned out by constant numbers and big words?

You waited by the counter, tapping away on your phone as you waited for the man behind the glass to finish making your chop cheese, slowly raising your head to see who just swung open the door. You made eye contact with Miles for a brief moment, nodding upward as a form of greeting before suddenly being startled. Miles's eyes widened for a moment, taking a tiny step back as he took in how sleepy you looked. Your hoodie wasn't even on properly, one arm completely off your shoulder and exposing a fraction of your black tank top to the world around you. "Well damn, nigga. I know I look like shit but don't make it obvious" you snorted, rolling your eyes as you dropped your head back to your phone screen.

"Oh, my bad. Just not used to seeing you outside of school" he shrugged, making his way to the counter to order his food and standing next to you in silence. You both tapped away on your phones, scrolling through your Instagram while you waited for your sandwich. There was nothing else to it, really. You both waved bye to each other as you left the store, silently building a smidge of a relationship compared to being just strangers. For the most part, it was like that at school too.

There was no real reason to talk to him, outside of a small hallway talk and a nod or a wave. And it stayed like that for a long time, until a random day in the school's library. Miles came strutting through the oak wood doors, seemingly pissed off as he slammed his supplies on a nearby table and started working silently. You side-eyed him, continuing to blast the music in your headphones until you felt a presence begin getting closer to you. You grabbed one of your AirPods, removing it from your ear as Miles stood over you.

"Hmm?" You hummed, looking up at him as you paused your music. He said nothing, only showing you a piece of paper with honors calculus work. "Do you need help?" you asked, scanning over the paper briefly before putting your AirPods in your case. He nodded, letting you take the paper from him as he leaned against the table. "Aight, sit down. I'm only doing one problem though" you muttered, scooting your chair over to make room for Miles.

When Miles left that table, you were closer than normal. You spent the rest of the afternoon helping him 'study' (talking to each other while he finished his work) and exchanging numbers and Instagram. "Good luck with your test!" You smiled, waving from across the room as he left the library. He gave you a nod before swiftly exiting, leaving people asking you left and right "What's Miles like?" You didn't think anything of it, at all.

You never would have imagined that that same boy would be the father of your child almost ten years later.

“MILES!” You shouted as loud as humanly possible. “SÍ? QUÉ HICE??” He shouted back from the kitchen. “MY FUCKING WATER BROKE START THE CAR!” You yelled as you stared down in absolute shock. And it was absolute chaos from there. Miles was practically stumbling out of the house as he ran to start the car, muttering curses as he ran up to get you out of your shared room.

Unfortunately for Miles, he had no idea what was happening. He was terrified but tried to be as supportive as possible through the entire situation. He was out cold for most of the delivery, having fainted 10 minutes in from anxiety. "Sir? SIR-!"

BOOM

But other than that, everything went amazing! He cried for 20 whole minutes when he got to hold his beautiful baby girl. "W-what...sniffle... are you going to...sob...name h-her, love?" he asked between a puddle of tears. You took a good look at your baby through soaked eyes, realizing she was born...quiet. She had one green eye, and one dark brown eye that was taken right from her father's face, a cute little button nose, and a head full of placenta-permed hair. She cried once the entire birth and remained silent the rest of the way, just like her nonchalant-ass daddy. "I'm thinkin' about...Asomi" you replied before bursting out in tears, causing Miles to burst even further into tears.

You attempted to reach for your baby, earning a watery glare from your boyfriend. "Nigga I JUST PUSHED HER OUT! GIMME MY BABY!" you giggled as you attempted to grab your daughter. "nuh-uh. I'm not done holding her" he retorted, flashing you a middle finger as he held Asomi even closer. "Miles Gonzalo Morales."

"Lo siento. Te amo mucho. Tú eres muy bonita y inteligente" he quickly replied as he handed your daughter over.

And from that moment forward, everything in Miles's life revolved around his beautiful family. He spent hours rambling on and on to 'Omi', as he calls her, about anything under the sun. "Entonces," Miles began as he attempted to give 'Omi a sink bath. "Tú mami me dijo que necesito hablar más inglés a ti. I won't though, cuz you're my lil princess" he whispered as he curved Omi's hair into a bubbly mohawk and giggled like a child. He played with the bubbly water, pretending to be one of the countless tiny rubber duckies she had floating around in the water.

"Alright, c'mon. Necesito vestir tú antes consigue frío" he giggled as he put the kid in a prowler onesie you told him not to buy. He blew raspberries on Asomi's little belly, earning adorable giggles from his daughter as he carried the tiny baby with one arm. He cleaned up some of the toys on the floor, briefly pushing them inside the toy bin before grabbing the tiny purple pacifier and soft wooly lamb-lamb plush. Omi clung to his shirt, laying her head on his shoulder as she held the tiny lamb-lamb plushie. Miles kissed her on the forehead, sat down on the couch, and fell asleep with Omi dozing off right beside him.

You came home to two of your two favorite people in the world snuggled up on the couch. Omi's tiny hand gripped Miles's shirt as Miles held her like an inmate protecting his tray. You giggled to yourself, snapping a quick pic for the memories before joining their 'nap circle'.

"G'night, pretty babies" you whispered, pressing kisses on both of their cheeks.

"Mmh...noches."

...‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Taglist:

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @kxllanxtdoor

Taglist form on my profile !! pls fill that out to be added <3

[fuzzythoughtsblog]

A fantasy I had based on a fan fiction I read :

I begin to wake up. I feel groggy as push myself from my bed. Except I couldn't for some reason and then I look up and my hands are cuffed to my bed. Except it's not my bed it's someone else, I quickly look around the room for some kinda indication of where I am. Theirs nothing thats familiar. The room is pained a light purple with fluffy fixtures everywhere and nice tv but no windows, only a fake projection of one. As I look around I recognize some stuff bits of my things placed neatly around the room. When I shift around I start to hear foot steps. I try to wiggle out of the cuffs before the door opens but its no use. A woman walks through the door with a soft smile on her face.

"Hello, love. Did you sleep well? I made sure to have everything how you like it down to rain sounds. "

I pause and realize there is a sound machine playing rain sounds just like the one I have at home.

The lady continues " I hope the cuffs weren't to tight, once we get you your ankle bracelet we won't have to fiddle with those things. "

I stare at her for a moment before asking where I was and how I got here. Some how very calm about the matter.

"Oh that's right you wouldn't remember. Well this is your home, not just this room of course you're free to explore the whole house once your ankle bracelet comes in. For now you stay here; but don't worry I'll keep you company. As for how you got here well you were at your old home and I put something in your glass of water to make you extra sleepy. Sorry it was just a formality and I won't do it again. "

As she talked the panic began to set in. I ask her why she did this.

With a smile she begins to play with my hair. "I love you, for a long time now. I know you don't remember but I used to see you after middle school walking to your house. I think the first time I saw you I knew this was it. As the years went by you confirmed to me that this is it. Watching your highs and lows have been truly beautiful. I knew I must have you in my life but, I don't want to share you anymore. You know you sleep beautifully, I mean I've seen it before but this is my first time seeing you sleep up close and personal. What were you dreaming about? "

I can't even take it all in, this lady I've never seen before is making all these claims and I'm strapped to her bed. I then look down to see I'm in pink lace lingerie. I freeze and she notices.

"Oh yes, I thought you'd look lovely in these and you do honestly. " she says as she drags a hand up my body.

"Your just so pretty. " she says as she leans in and begins to kiss my neck. At this I snap at her to stop and to uncuff me. She sighs and begins to nibble on my skin.

"Bear with me love, I must learn your body. " I shake my head as she shows no signs of stopping. I tell her someone is looking for me. "And may they never find our home" she breathes into my skin like hymn. She then moves on from my neck to my shoulders leaving long kisses on them. She then begins to trace my collar bone with her finger ever so gently. Upon tracing it she moves here mouth to the top of my chest. In to my skin she whispers "Allow me to take my time little dove, I want to savior this for both of us".

I try to pull away as she sucks dark marks into my skin ending the ministration with a small kiss. For a moment she leans off of me to admire her work. She let's out a moan as she looks. " Your breath taking. I've had only a little and I crave more. " I begin to lightly sob as she takes a nipple in her mouth sucking it through the lace. It feels disgustingly good. Everything in me is screaming to reject the pleasure, but my body won't listen. I let out a soft moan causing her to stop and look up at me.

"Little dove. " she says as she begins to kiss me on the mouth despite me backing away from it. She continues until a headbutt her mid kiss. She grips her head, but it seems my resistance only spures her on more. As she cups my face with her hands this time and she takes another kiss. And then she goes back to nipples this time nibbling at the other. She then looks up at me as she sucks the already sensitive bud. I accidentally let out a whine as it's just too sensitive.

Which sends a shiver down her spine. She lowers her head to my stomach before continuing to kiss it and litter the skin with little marks. She then traces the more sensitive skin with her tongue. As she goes lower I feel something hot grow in the pit my stomach. Especially as she gets to where my pelvis and my stomach meet. Nibbling on the line between the two. Unexpectedly she then moves over to the top part of my thighs. The bit of pudge that peeks over the lace stocking. Before going on she looks up at me again.

"Your delicious my love, I don't know how I have claimed to live before I tasted your skin. " after she sinks her teeth in to the pudge a action that causes me to yelp as its unlike every thing she did before. Of course she watches me as she does the same thing to the other side. As she released the meat from her teeth she then uses them to bite the edge of stocking before pulling them down and off. She does the same to the other side before returning to the first and laying a kiss on the knee she then bites around on the lower part of my thigh take her time to leave more dark marks. She ends it by laying several light kisses on my ankle. Before for repeating the same action on the other leg as she presses the last kiss into my ankle she breathes a sigh of relief.

"I'm sorry dove, I don't mean to be a tease I've just been dreaming of this for so long. Longer than you could know. " she says placing her head near my crotch as I shift away. She simply holds my hips before placing a kiss on my clothed pussy. She then begins to suck and lick through the panties. All while starring at me watching every quiver and gasp. She begins to pay attention more to my clit as I whine and with shaking hands she removes the panties and just stares at my cunt for a minute or two. I hear her moans the words "fucking gorgeous".

Before ducking back down and tasting me from the source. I feel as she moans against me and grinds into my legs as she takes my clit into her mouth causing me to shake and shrink away. "Don't, run away from me baby. Hear me, never again. " she says eyes very serious. She then leans in and starts slowly pressing her tongue into me. Rubbing my clit as she does. She then holds my thighs as she goes deeper, fucking me on her tongue. She eats me out with focus and dedication for what feels like hours before pressing a finger in along with her tongue. The two move in sync as she loosen me before adding another finger and after time another. Until I'm crying on 3 of her fingers and a tongue.

She then pulls out and grabs something from the night stand. I look as she pulls down her pants to reveal a throbbing cock. She then squirts some lube onto it and my cunt before pumping it in her hand. There is absolutely no way she wants me to take all that. But as I look in disbelief she lines her cock up with my cunt but before she presses in. I say wait what about protection. She looks up at me with a soft smile "It's okay, I'm the only one that's going to be taking you for now on so we don't have to worry about that. "but before I can exclaim that it's not okay she sinks in.

With a breathy "Fuck" and fuck is right her cock is thick and just keeps going as she sinks into me as I whine and squirm. It takes a minute before our pelvises kiss but as they do she let's out long and loud whine. And I just stare at her, she fucking came inside of me, she came inside of me with no protection. What if I ... I begin to really sob as that thought crossed my mind. She on the other hand is still with embarrassment.

"I'm sorry love, it's just been so long. But don't worry I can keep going. " she says before sliding out and slamming back in. Causing my head to fall back. "See, I can give you pleasure too." She says voice still breathy as she pounds into me. The room begins to fill with the filthy noise and whines. I want to run away but theres nowhere to go. I just have to lye their and take it as she fucks her cum back into me with haste. She continues to thrust as she sucks more marks onto my neck and under my jaw. Then the worst begins as I feel my body try to tense up. Absolutely not, I tell myself but she seems to notice as she begins fucking speeding up and rubbing my clit. "Good ahead cum for me love, make a pretty mess of yourself. " I shake my head in refusal. This is not about to happen I'm not going to cum on her cock I refuse.

"Baby please stop being so stubborn, just do it it'll feel so good. " I keep starving it off despite her words until she wraps her mouth around my clit while still pounding . Sending me tumbling over the edge hard without out any way to catch myself. I close my eyes hard and begin to shake. It feels like an eternity and when I finally am able to open my eyes I hear a low ringing and my body is still tingling as she is still fucking me through it before cuming again even deeper this time. I feel tears continue to roll down my cheeks as she pulls out and her cum drips down my legs. As I stare at the ceiling completely stund I hear her whisper

"Welcome home, little dove! "

[yunhoszn]

(this is user sourkimchi pls don’t perceive me on main lmao)

i saw another user post this abt this hongjoong fit and it’s been living in my head rent free…

as a fellow asian rave bisexual.. i need a fic for this concept 🫣

(not so) alcohol-free

PAIRING kim hongjoong x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.46k

GENRES fluff?﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, clubbing scene, reader feels self conscious, mentions of alcohol, strangers to lovers?, ummmmm hardly any plot tbh half of the wc is porn, couch sex, little bit of foreplay (vaginal fingering), some marking here and there i think, cowgirl position, missionary, protected sex, allusions to multiple rounds of unprotected sex, not beta’d or proofread bc we rawdog this shit like men

SUMMARY notorious for canceling plans at the last minute, you finally let your friends drag you out for a night at the club. however, a chance encounter with the prettiest man you’ve ever seen has the night turning to something unexpected.

MORE AAAAAAND i finally finished my first request LOLLLLL here u go yves!! i kinda strayed away from the main idea bc i wanted to make it my own, but i hope this meets ur expectations <3

@atzhouse

You had a natural affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. You’re not sure why, especially because you always get an awful case of FOMO every time you do. It’s your own fault that you feel left out when your friends get together without you.

No matter how far in advance you plan for the event, you somehow still find a way to lose your motivation to go. You haven’t properly hung out with your friend group in months, so when they start talking about clubbing tonight, you immediately say yes. 

At first, you think you’ll change your mind an hour later, since it’s only an afternoon’s notice. But when you realize your friends will be here to pick you up in thirty minutes and you’re finishing your makeup, you nearly jump for joy. You successfully stuck it out for once. 

Even as you’re sandwiched between Wooyoung and Mingi in the backseat, San in the drivers’ seat and his girlfriend in the passenger, you’re still shocked that this is your reality. You’re actually dolled up and you’re actually on your way to a club right now. 

“Y/N, do you remember the signal if someone hits on me?”

“Wooyoung, no one’s hitting on you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mingi. It could happen.”

You snort, pulling your skirt down a little. “Woo, we should come up with a signal for if I get hit on.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s more likely to get laid than you are even though she’s bitchless, too.” Mingi nods, adjusting his sunglasses. (You have no idea why he’s wearing sunglasses at 10 PM.)

“Kill your—”

“We’re here!” San announces, effectively putting a pin in any argument that was about to begin. As long as your friendship with the males spanned, he’s always been the mediator. You’ve known the three of them dating all the way back to high school, lumped in the same homeroom your freshman year. The four of you sat in the same general vicinity and got grouped together for a project once and you’ve been inseparable ever since. 

You know you look hot, Wooyoung wolf-whistling at you the moment you started walking towards the car, but you still feel a bit insecure. It probably has everything to do with the fact that you don’t go out much and you’re self-conscious as is. Stepping into the crowded club, a scene that could only be compared to a sardine can, has you shrinking in on yourself. 

Instinctively, you tug on the hem of your skirt to attempt to cover your ass a little more. Then you wrap your arms around your midriff, though your cleavage leaves pretty much nothing to the imagination. You swallow thickly as your trail behind your friends, like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs. 

This is why you always back out of plans. You feel so out of place, like you don’t fit in even when people try to include you. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, waiting for one wrong move so they can point and laugh like you were the butt of some sort of weird joke. You’re ready to go home. 

“Are you okay?” Mingi asks once you’ve settled at an empty high table just a few feet from the dance floor. Through his stupid sunglasses, you can make out the concern on his features. 

“Yeah, I think so,” your lips purse, arms hugging yourself tighter. “I just haven’t been out in so long. I feel… like I shouldn’t be here or something. I’ll be fine. I hope.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t ask any more questions, instead turning to San and his girlfriend who were about to make a trip to the bar. Your poison for the night is simple, a plain margarita that’ll ease your nerves more than anything else. You weren’t much of a beer person, often opting for fruitier, sweeter drinks in comparison to your male counterparts. (When you do go out with them, that is.)

Wooyoung and Mingi fall into a heated discussion about who knows what, leaving you to become a third wheel while you wait for the couple to come back with your drinks. You people-watch to pass the time, chewing on the inside of your lip, your eyes flitting around the club like some kind of guilty criminal. Almost immediately, they land on a guy in the middle of the dance floor. 

He’s hypnotizing, body fluidly moving to the song the DJ’s playing and matching the energy of his friend standing next to him, two girls in front of and facing them. His dark hair falls into his eyes slightly, though parted and styled damn near perfectly. He’s dressed in a black tweed jacket, a white button up left open enough to reveal a couple necklaces resting on his sternum, some ripped jeans, and black boots. But none of that is what caught your attention. 

You’re entranced by his smile, its brightness and how fucking pretty he looks wearing it. You caught the tail-end of something his friend said that made him laugh, and you feel yourself being pulled in deeper and deeper without a single conversation with him. Too bad he seems unavailable. 

“Woah, N/N, might wanna wipe your chin,” Wooyoung teases, a stupid smirk on his face that you want to punch away. “I think you’re drooling a little.”

Mingi howls with laughter, falling onto the table to support himself. He clutches at his stomach as it cramps up from how hard he’s laughing. It wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes. 

“Shut up, Wooyo.” 

“Who are you even staring at?” He inquires, resting his elbows on the high top surface, his chin placed on his hands. He blinks at you expectantly, like he’s not letting you off the hook. You avoid his gaze, simultaneously ensuring that you don’t look in the attractive stranger’s general direction either. This all felt so elementary. 

“None of your business.” You murmur, ducking your head. Thankfully, San and his girlfriend return to the table with your drinks perfectly timed, and the topic is dropped completely. 

The first sip of your margarita is damn near heavenly, the alcohol flowing through your system smoothly and calming that storm waging in your mind. It’s not too strong, just enough that another couple drinks would inebriate you entirely. It aids with the anxiety of being in such a packed space, but that feeling of not belonging still sits inside your chest. 

You can’t help but look for the stranger again, who’s no longer on the dance floor. Now he’s on the other side of the club at another high table. His friend is still with him, but the girls from before are nowhere to be found. You focus on his hands and the chunky rings on his fingers, the way he holds his beer bottle, the way his free hand runs through his hair. Your tongue twirls around the straw in your glass out of habit, enthralled by this man who has yet to give you the time of day. 

Except when you glance up to admire his face, you discover that he’s already looking back at you. He’s nodding along to his friend’s words, but his eyes are zeroed in on you, a different kind of smile playing on his lips. Your features fall slightly from being caught red handed, cheeks warming up significantly. You aren’t sure what’s more embarrassing, caught gawking at a stranger by your own friend or by the stranger himself. Truly, the universe was out to get you. 

You down the rest of your margarita and excuse yourself to go to the restroom, needing a second to gather your bearings. Your skin is flushed and you have to hold your cheeks between your palms as you psych yourself up in the mirror. Why should you feel ashamed of thinking someone’s hot? You were only human. Besides, you looked good, too. 

When you exit the restroom, you’re shocked to see the stranger walking out of the men’s restroom at the same time. Your eyes are wide and your body freezes. He gives you that smile from before, ruffling his hair as if this interaction wasn’t difficult enough. 

“I was hoping I’d bump into you,” he says, unabashedly drinking in your figure. “It’s not everyday someone as gorgeous as you crosses my path.”

So he’s a flirt. Noted. 

“I could say the same,” you manage to get out, though your palms are already clamming up. “If fleeting glances across a dance floor count as crossing paths.”

He laughs and you swear it’s the best sound you’ve ever heard. A couple girls come into the hallway, and you maneuver so they can go into the women’s restroom. His hand comes to rest on your lower back when your balance wavers slightly. 

“I’m Hongjoong, by the way,” he introduces himself since he’s in such close proximity to you now. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure,” you nod, too distracted by how much prettier he is only inches away from you. “I’d like that.”

Hongjoong leads you to the bar, a gentle hand wrapped around your wrist so he doesn’t lose you in the crowd. He orders himself a beer and turns to you to ask what you’re having. While waiting for the bartender to whip up your drinks, he strikes up a conversation. 

“Are you gonna tell me your name?” 

You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly. “Oh yeah, sorry… It’s Y/N.”

He repeats it, like he’s testing out the taste in his mouth. The smile that graces his features afterwards says all you need to know. It has butterflies flapping around rampantly in the pit of your stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of you. He thanks the bartender seconds later when he slides your margarita and his beer bottle across the bar. 

“So, Y/N, what brings you out tonight?” He takes a swig from his bottle, one arm leaning onto the surface of the bar. God, the things you would do to him if given the chance…

“Catching up with my friends,” you answer honestly, baby-sipping your margarita through the straw. “I don’t really go out much, because I’m really bad when it comes to canceling plans at the last minute.”

“Should I consider myself lucky then?” Hongjoong quirks a brow, licking his lower lip. If men had anything, it was the audacity. And this man had the audacity to do everything in his power to lure you in with his good looks and charisma. 

“I’ll have you know that this is a one of a kind, once in a lifetime opportunity,” you play along, stirring the slowly-melting ice cubes around your glass. “You’re a very fortunate man.”

“Yeah?” He laughs again and you think you might faint right here and now. He looks off to the other side of the club and then back at you. “I think Prince Charming over there is looking for you.”

He points at the table where your friends are, and you find that Wooyoung is glancing around in search of something, or someone. Namely you. It’s most likely because you went to the restroom and then never returned. He’ll live. 

“Wooyoung? Nah, he’s just being a good friend. I raised him right,” you turn back to him, sipping at your drink leisurely. “Now where were we? Something about you being lucky?”

“Hwa, I’ll— shit— I’ll have to call you back,” Hongjoong forces out, promptly hanging up so he can focus on putting you in your place. You’re like a damn leech, lips attached to his neck, marking the supple skin like it was your job. Your hands paw at the button of his jeans, your lower half grinding down on his lap. “So fucking impatient. Can’t even wait until I’m off the phone?”

“Want you too bad, Joong,” you pout, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, his jacket lost somewhere near the front door. He groans when the nickname falls from your mouth. You had no idea how sexy you were.

The two of you were so insatiable, you couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, collapsing on his couch. You hardly had the mind to message your friends to let them know your whereabouts. His hands hold your ass firmly, halting you from any further teasing. You whine, pushing his shirt off of his shoulders. Your nails drag down his toned abdomen, enjoying the way it tenses beneath your touch. After all he’s put you through tonight, you think you at least deserve a bit of payback. Just a bit. 

“Are you too antsy to make it through foreplay?” He coos and presses a quick kiss to your lips, trailing a few along your jawline. Your eyes flutter shut with a hum and a nod. It was true. If he didn’t fuck you soon, you feared you might go insane. 

“I need you inside me already,” you whine, trying to spread your legs and create more friction downstairs. He chuckles at how desperate you are, how touch starved you must be considering you don’t get out much. It fuels his pride knowing he’s the only one to see you like this, to have you like this, for the first time in who knows how long. If he’s successful, maybe he’ll be the only one ever. 

Hongjoong bunches your skirt around your waist, sneaking a hand between your bodies to rub tight, gentle circles into your clothed clit. A blissful sigh escapes you, your forehead dropping to his shoulder. The cocky smile you’ve grown to adore over the course of the night decorates his lips at how quickly he has you falling apart at his fingertips. 

His middle and ring digits push your underwear to the side, sliding down your slit to prod at your entrance. He nips at the base of your throat, working his way up to the spot behind your ear. Your sighs grow into whimpers, squirming around on his lap when he applies pressure to your cunt with the pad of his middle finger. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he mutters into your skin, shivers running down your spine from the low register he uses. He circles his digit around your hole, not quite giving you what you need. “You weren’t kidding about how bad you wanted me.”

You’re about to quip back, but then he’s inserting a finger and rubbing your clit with his thumb. You gasp, biting down on his collarbone to ground yourself. As much as you would love to sit here and let him finger you until sunrise, you have bigger priorities. “Mmm, Joong, please… Fuck me, please…”

He kisses his teeth, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. He supposes he can satiate your hunger, though he really wanted to take his time with you. “Do you think you can be still while I put the condom on?”

You pull back and nod enthusiastically, sitting on your haunches slightly, fingers locked behind his neck. “I’ll be so good, I promise. I just need you, like, now.”

All he can do is laugh, and you melt into a puddle in his arms. You’ve concluded that smile of his would quite honestly be the death of you. He removes his fingers from your pussy, instead squeezing your hip before helping you onto the couch cushion beside him. You rest on your knees as he unbuttons his jeans and kicks them off, swiftly grabbing his wallet out of his pocket and plucking a condom from it. In the same breath, he’s taking off his underwear and tugging you back on top of him. 

He places the foil packet between his teeth so he can quickly aid you in the discarding of your panties. Now that your cunt is bare, you can feel the heat of his cock and it’s so hypnotic. Your eyes can barely stay open as you watch him tear open the condom packet and roll it on. He’s the perfect thickness and the perfect length, and you feel so special straddling his lap right now. 

Hongjoong kisses you softly, gripping your waist so he can guide you to sit on his cock. The first breach of your entrance has a shaky exhale leaving your lips against his own. You stay like that for a second so you can adjust to the feel of him inside of you, the fullness in your lower half, and overall just how fucking good it feels. He grins when you slowly start bouncing up and down, his dick thrusting in and out under you. 

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” He pecks your cheek, moving downward and reaching behind your back to untie your halter top. It slips off of you with ease, revealing your tits to him. 

“So good, Joong… Feels so good,” you arch into him, whining and moaning every time he brushes that crook in your cunt that has you seeing stars. He peppers kisses all over your chest and sternum, scraping his teeth along the skin of your breast. You whimper, nails sinking into his back and your toes curling. You’re completely aware of what’s going on, but those two margaritas have to be contributing to the pleasure swirling in your abdomen. 

“Yeah? You’re taking me so fucking well,” His eyebrows knit together when you switch your pace, sitting on him fully and letting his cock fill you for a couple seconds. In reality, your knees were starting to ache and get tired, something he recognizes instantly because he was so attentive. 

His hand holds the small of your back and he flips you so you’re in missionary on the couch now without skipping a beat. The change in position allows for a change in angle, his dick dragging against your velvety walls deliciously. Your sounds grow in volume, scratching his back when he pushes one of your knees to your chest. 

You weren’t anticipating to end up here at the end of the night, but you don’t think you could dare complain. While a majority of this night felt like a fever dream, you feel a high that’s never taken over you before. 

Hongjoong’s hair falls into his eyes as he glances down at where your bodies meet, his cock disappearing inside of you and then sliding out with ease. You intertwine your fingers behind his head, pulling him down so you can connect your lips in a fervent, passionate kiss. That familiar summit is within view now, your hand nudging his own to your clit so you can inch closer towards it. 

His thumb swipes side to side on the sensitive bundle of nerves, never once breaking your kiss. There’s so much stimulation going on for you, you’re starting to feel dizzy. In a good way. He’s gentle in a way that’s still rough enough to knock the daylights out of you and the juxtaposition makes the moment all the more enjoyable. 

“‘M so close, Joong,” you arch off the sofa in an attempt to be closer to him, to sandwich yourself between him and the couch. 

His thrusts become faster and more calculated, but he doesn’t break the focus on your clit. His efforts come to fruition and he mumbles words of encouragement for you as you finally reach that boiling point. A strangled moan falls from your mouth and you spread your legs to suck him in further. 

The uncontrollable fluttering of your walls following your climax is almost too much for him and he has to pull out. Your eyes are half lidded, nimble fingers rolling off the condom. He fucks his fist until he’s painting the area between your tits with his cum.

The two of you don’t move right away, regaining your composure. He leans down to kiss you sweetly, and then repeats the action all over your face until you’re a giggly mess. This is probably the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and part of you doesn’t want to go home— whether that be later or tomorrow morning. 

“Do you have the energy to go again, or should I go grab a warm washcloth to clean you up?” He raises an eyebrow at you, indicating that he’s just joking but he’s totally down if you are. You laugh, running your fingers through his hair. 

“If you give me a minute, I’m all set to do that again,” you start, resting your eyes for a second. “You don’t have to worry about a condom this time. I kinda wanna feel you raw.”

Hongjoong laughs in disbelief, glancing away from you and then letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder. “What have I gotten myself into…”

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost. 

[1moreff-creator]

New Year's themed ask: What would our beloved classes be doing to celebrate the new year? (I mainly care about DRDT and P:EG, but feel free include mainline games and/or the Another Duology if you want!)

Happy New Year's! (again lol) Let's celebrate the start of 2025 with our favorite killing game blorbos! In particular, I'll be taking the casts of the four fangans I've been most invested in lately; Despair Time, Eden's Garden, One Shot, and Tetro Pink! (Sorry mainline, Another duology and Heartless Deceit, it's been a while since I've thought about those :() This will include both wholesomeness and sadness as appropriate, so get ready for anything!

Minor spoilers for all the fangans mentioned in their respective sections.

By the way, I apologize in advance if a lot of them are just "spends it with family/friends", sometimes I can't think of anything actually interesting to say :v

Danganronpa: Despair Time

Ace: Spends the day with his family, and pretends not to be as scared of firework noises as he is.

Arei: Spends the entire day with her friends (or "friends" while she was in high school, depending on who you ask).

Arturo: Doesn't celebrate, but does keep track of what various celebrities do for the holiday.

Charles: Just a get-together with family. He goes to bed as soon after 12:00 AM as possible.

David: Posts something motivational on social media, sometimes does a themed TEDTalk. Then proceeds to spend the entire rest of his day in bed.

Eden: Celebrates her birthday (31st December!) late into the day with all her friends and family, only to switch to celebrating New Year's the moment 12:00 AM arrives. Basically one long birthday party :D

Hu: Depends on the year. Sometimes she enjoys just chilling with her family, sometimes she accompanies her friends to parties to make sure no one gets hurt. Designated driver when said friends drink alcohol, as she likes to feel reliable.

J: Celebrates with Ryan... mostly the fact that Mariabella is Somewhere Else for the day. Also goes out with friends sometimes.

Levi: Doesn't celebrate, and usually doesn't even notice the new year's coming up until he's woken up by fireworks the day of.

Min: She treats it like any other day, though maybe with an extra family visit. Every year, it takes convincing to get her to stay awake until 12:00.

Nico: Spends it at animal shelters, helping any animals who might get scared of fireworks.

Rose: Spends it with her family, and sleeps through most of it. Takes a lot effort from her siblings for her to stay awake at 12:00 AM to see the change in year.

Teruko: Used to celebrate with her brother, but doesn't bother to celebrate at all too much anymore. She mainly just spends the day trying to get as far away from any fireworks as possible (far too dangerous for her luck).

Veronika: Christmas and new year's themed horror marathon! She occasionally manages to drag someone into it with her, but it's not necessary for her.

Xander: Volunteer work with friends during the 31st, and a visit to his family's graves at some point during the 1st.

Whit: Spends the day with friends, but always cooks dinner at home, usually eating alone since his father's usually overseas. He always makes sure to save some food for his mom, though :)

MonoTV: Treats itself to some of its favorite movies of the year. By which I mean it eats the CDs of said movies.

Mai: Hangs out with both friends and family in a way that makes everyone happy. Or, well, she used to, anyways.

Project: Eden's Garden

Cassidy: New Year's charity stream marathon that always starts a few days before and lasts for a few days after the turn of the year. She streams even through the clock hitting 12:00 in her timezone.

Damon: He prefers to ignore the holiday, but his family gets together so he can't exactly manage it. Still studies for a large part of the day though.

Desmond: Takes it a bit easier on the training for the day, but otherwise doesn't alter his routine too much.

Diana: Hangs out with her friends for a good chunk of the day, and particularly enjoys doing their makeup for any party later in the night.

Eloise: Spends the day with her sisters and mother.

Eva: Doesn't celebrate, and probably spends it studying one subject or another.

Grace: Doesn't celebrate, but enjoys watching the fireworks.

Ingrid: Spends the day with her family.

Jean: Usually out at sea, so he celebrates with his crew, drinking and playing around all night.

Jett: Parties hard with his friends all through the night.

Kai: Other than posting a bunch on social media, he doesn't really go out much, and prefers to spend the day with family.

Mark: Doesn't celebrate, but he does post some kind of celebratory post as Mayhem on social media.

Toshiko: Sends postcards to all her family and likes watching firework displays.

Ulysses: Doesn't celebrate, but his museum offers discounts on New Year's, so there's that.

Wenona: Only celebrates in whatever way benefits her business, as long as it doesn't involve making a public appearance. This usually means she doesn't do jack shit.

Wolfgang: Doesn't celebrate, but he's willing to be designated driver if some of his friends want to party.

Tozu: Practices his evil laugh for hours.

Mara: Puts up with Tozu practicing his evil laugh for hours.

Cara: Uh... she's dead chat I don't think she can celebrate.

Sorry a lot of them are just "they don't do anything" but that's the vibes I get from these people T_T

Danganronpa: One Shot

Aidan: Celebrates Old Year's (read as: doesn't do anything special).

Antonia: Watches the fireworks in Vegas with her sister.

Cass: Doesn't really celebrate unless someone close to them celebrates.

Davis: Spends it with his family at home.

Ellis: Party all night long! There's only a 50/50 chance she actually remembers the hour turning to 12:00 after getting blackout drunk.

Grace: Doesn't celebrate, as they consider it a waste of time.

Harper: Does volunteer work around ver community, but ve's always with ver family when the year turns.

Jeff: Doesn't really do anything, but depending where they are, he might stay up to watch some fireworks.

Kennedy: Looks at several large scale New Year's celebrations, looking for secret symbols in firework displays. So far, she's made the connection between the color red, cacti, and the government of Namibia. He's looking into what that could possibly mean, believing to have connected the dots (author's note: she hasn't connected shit).

Mark: [INFORMATION UNAVAILABLE]

Noah: Gigantic party with his frat. He ends up being the only one without a hangover because of his immunity to it.

Paris: Other than some kind of celebratory post on social media, she goes to the biggest party she can to collect all the gossip she can manage.

Robert: Does exactly what the majority of his demographic does, which generally just involves a family get-together.

Taylor: Stays home with their family, and usually goes to bed soon after 12:00.

Vanessa: She spends it with either her family or her friends, and generally has a blast.

Vivi: Generally takes the night shift at her hospital, since she doesn't care as much about the New Year's as her colleagues.

Monoquin: Indulges in his secret pastime: cosplaying Hope's Peak students. He is a mannequin running a killing game implied to be obsessed with Hope's Peak, after all.

Tetro Danganronpa Pink

I'm gonna list this ones by last name instead of first name because that's how I refer to them in my head and you're gonna deal with it >:v

Chiba: Spends it with her family. Or in the hospital.

Hama: Finalizes rituals to expunge all demons from the year as it comes to its end. This involves an obnoxious amount of salt.

Harada: Spends the day in animal shelters, taking care of any animals disturbed by the fireworks.

Hasegawa: Spends a quiet evening with his mother and sister, sends postcards to his father and his father's girlfriend.

Hayashi: Spends it with her parents, it's surprisingly wholesome.

Hiroaki: Parties a lot with his friends, and sometimes sends postcards to his parents when he remembers to do it.

Isono: New Year's stream!!!

Kamimura: Doesn't celebrate, but does send a postcard to his aunt.

Ojima: Hangs out with his brothers, but doesn't do anything too big.

Okazaki: Offers discounts on her unlicensed gender-affirming surgery, sends ominous postcards to anyone she wants to scare, looks at fireworks and commits some other kind of crime.

Sasaki: Spends it with friends, toasts at midnight with her family.

Tamba: Spends the day with her family.

Tsuno: Volunteer work so no one has a bad New Year's. Sends postcards to everyone she feels would appreciate one.

Wada: Watching Isono's stream.

Watari: Stays with her family until 12:00, and then immediately goes to party after that.

Yanagi: Spends it with his family.

Monomoko: Finds no meaning in the human tradition, so it doesn't do anything special.

I'm not doing the researchers I haven't read staffside sorry :(

-

Well, I hope that got you in the New Year's mood (it's still the 31st in my timezone at least)! Thanks for the ask, and happy New Year's everyone!!! Here's to a happy 2025!

[starlit-crossing]

A Ghost of Yourself Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - A Feeling of Dread

Welcome and enjoy! All characters are of course owned by their original intellectual properties and this story is in no way canon.

- -      -

Danny wasn't sure what to think when his parents said they would be collaborating with the Guys in White for a contract. He knew nothing good would come from it. Jazz had even voiced her concerns, citing the times the GIW had tried to steal their work. His parents just brushed off their worries, stating the project was research focused rather than weaponry. It relieved some of Danny's worries, but he couldn't shake this nagging feeling.

"If its focused-on research how much harm could it cause?" Sam reassured as the collection of herself, Danny and Tucker settled in for movie night in Sam's home theater. The theater was in the basement, red curtains hanging by the large movie screen.  A few chairs and piles of pillows were strewn about for the group to chill on. There was even a popcorn and soda machine in the back of the room next to a few classic arcade games.

"Yeah, Danny, what if they finally find evidence to support your side? Y'know the fact ghosts are the same as people and there is good and bad." Tucker piped in as he plopped into the cushiony seat with a bounce, extra-large popcorn and soda in hand.

"I don't know, Tuck. They've found stuff like that before, and they always find a way to twist it to fit their view on ghosts." Danny rambled, running his hand through his hair. "I just hope they'll be careful around the GIW and maybe let some research spill at home so I can eavesdrop."

"You could always follow them." Sam suggested. She watched confused as the boys just stared at her.

"You think Danny should follow his parents into the base of a bunch of ghost hunters hired by the government to research and destroy anything undead?" Tucker asked. "Are you insane?"

"Sorry Sam I'm with Tucker on this one, I don't think I could get close without catching someone's attention, human or ghost." Danny sighed, "Let's just get the movie started, what's on the menu?"

"Femalien 2: Predator vs Prey, Terminatra 7: Back to the Present Again, or Nightmerica: Dreams of Terror." Sam listed off just as Danny felt a cold wisp of air leave his lips.

"FEAR ME! I AM THE BOX GHOST!" screamed the Box Ghost, the cry making its way in from outside.

"Raincheck you guys, boxy shouldn't take me too long." As a flash filled the room and Danny flew through the walls disappearing.

"Ten bucks says Skulker shows up before he can come back." Tucker bribed.

"You're on, we took out his suit last week. Meanwhile, Kitty and Johnny 13 have been fighting again." Sam accepted, starting up a movie knowing it would be done before he got back.

- -      -

The following weeks were surprisingly uneventful, a sign Danny took to heart. His parents had been extra careful not to leave out any notes or research in the house, not even in the lab. Refusing to give any hints as to what they were working on. Ghosts had been scarce, nothing except ectopuses and blob ghosts. The GIW agents had been the complete opposite, they were at an all-time high. You couldn't go more than ten minutes without spotting a white van. He was glad he didn't need to save anyone from those agents, but he had a really bad feeling that something was going to happen. School was his only time away from the ghost hunters it felt like.

"Calm down, Danny. So, you have had a few good weeks, you've caught up on homework and Lancer isn't on your back nearly as much." Sam soothed as they took a seat outside in the courtyard for lunch. The hustle and bustle of students drowning out any chance of being overheard.

"Yea, dude even Dash has been picking on you less. Though that could be due to the championship coming up." Tucker added his mouth full of sloppy joe. The bully in question was across the court passing a football with his teammates, Paulina and her socialites sitting on the table watching them. Dash caught Danny's gaze and gave him a smirk dragging his finger across his neck.

"Don't remind me, I still remember last year when we lost. Dash was bully all nerds on sight that week." Danny grimaced as he ate. "But my parents have been really excited this week. Apparently, something big is coming." As if speaking it into the universe the Fenton GAV made its way barreling down the street, some white vans in tow.

"Spoke too soon, dude." Tucker whispered as they watched the GAV dodge and swerve to miss any pedestrians. The vehicle finally came to a stop on the grass with Drs. Fenton and the GIW rushing out to follow a gadget in Jack's hands.

"He's here somewhere, I just know it! Come out ghost scum!" Jack exclaimed barreling straight to Danny. The whole group of hunters stared at the young boy and his friends. "Aww. It didn't work, Maddie. It’s still stuck on Danny-boy." Now that they were closer Danny was able to see the Fenton Finder in his father's hands. It looked like it had been upgraded, it was bigger with handles on the sides and no voice stating where the ghost was. The screen showed simple faces on the screen next to the GPS. The current emoji was a shocked face as the map was pointing and beeping at him.

"That can't be possible, we tested it on other simple ghosts. The upgrade to the Fenton Finder was supposed to show and locate the emotions the ghosts project in order to fool and feed on the humans around them. Even that simple ghost with the boxes was able to show signs of disappointment as he failed to scare his victims." Maddie explained, grabbing the device. With it in hand she fiddled with the settings of the device, swapping it between ghosts till it landed back on the name Phantom. "We had tested this last week; Phantom's emotions reflected his actions time and time again in a hostile environment."

"Well, there's no ghost here, probably still has a few bugs, right?" Sam offered, trying to distract them and keep the focus off Danny. Danny's mind raced with the implications of what was happening. Of course, his parents would find out that ghosts tend to be more emotional than humans and would twist the fact to fit their biased theory that all ghosts were evil. It’s not like ghosts were moody on purpose, when your entire being is based on your mental state emotions tend to play an important part. Not only with obsessions but when interacting with each other, being able to read the emotions of the ghosts you interreacted with was as important as social cues and body language with humans.

Sure, you could go without them and function as fine as anyone else, but they were still a great help with communicating if you were good at understanding them. With this they'd be able to tune into any ghost no matter the distance and translate it into coordinates. Not even the ghost zone would be completely safe as they could probably filter through the other emotions using the ectosignature of a previously known ghost. Danny's breath started to pick up, he could feel himself spiraling as he started to think about what that would mean for him in the hands of the GIW. They would never stop looking for him, they would be able to find him anywhere in the country.

"Look Mads, the ghost kid has to be near the emotion changed again." Jack exclaimed, jumping with excitement.

"I see that Jack and it would make sense with the transition of shock to confusion to panic. Though he's nowhere to be seen, Agent O do you have confirmation that Phantom isn't in the area?" Maddie turned, addressing the agents that had been standing by waiting for orders.

"Affirmative, there are no spectral entities in the viscidity on any energy spectrum. Could it be possible that the spectral entity is hiding among the student body? You said yourself that your device is focused on your son and that it’s a common occurrence. Could the ghost have caught wind of your contract with our organization and tried to find out more by hiding amongst your family?" Agent O suggested, eyeing Danny closely, the color draining from his face.

"That's preposterous, our family has ways of protecting ourselves!" Jack boasted, his voice carrying across the schoolyard. "Besides Danny knows not to trust any stinking ghost scum."

"Jack, honey..." Maddie called, eyes glued to the screen. "The emotion just turned to scared." Danny felt like all eyes were on him, going straight through him to his core. It felt like no one was looking at Fenton anymore, no matter where he looked, they all stared at him like they saw a ghost; like they only saw Phantom. Danny even had to look at himself to make sure he was still human. No gloved hands and red sneakers, he was definitely human still. Danny looked at Tucker and Sam, his best friends, looked at him with matching expressions. They both looked as shocked as he felt; they all knew they couldn't do anything, not with the GIW and student body all around them.

With everyone's attention on him, he could only think of his sister who wasn't even at school. She was shadowing a therapist and had a college interview later that day. She probably wouldn't hear anything till late that night. It's not like they weren't prepared for it, for Danny to have to disappear without a trace or a goodbye. So long as they were unable to control the narrative, Danny would have to disappear. Danny knew they always thought it would be into the ghost zone, he had allies in there. People he knew would keep him hidden if anyone came looking; that Sam and Tucker would be able to sneak in if need be. They could still see him, bring him homework and food. This, however, meant goodbye and he didn't know for how long.

"Danny," his mom smiled at him with worry filled eyes. He searched them for something, anything that showed she wasn't about to drag him home and put the specter deflector on him just to make sure no ghost was using him as a meat puppet. Her arms reached out to him, as the GIW surrounded their table ready for action. "You have nothing to worry about, sweetie. We're just going to head home."

"Yea, Danny. We'll help ya out, run a few tests and make sure you don't have any evil spook haunting you." His dad tagged on, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulder. Of course they'd want to fix this, to fix the ghost within him. One test would reveal the truth, and everyone would know his secret. Then it would be more tests, biopsies, trying to cure him of his powers. That was if they still loved him after learning the truth. The thoughts surrounding the lab became darker in his mind, nightmares he dared not to tell anyone becoming fresh in his mind.

"I'm sorry, mom. Dad. Goodbye." Danny disappearing from everyone's sight as he turned invisible and flew off towards his house. His parents’ cries fading into the distance, a mix of worry and anger as the ghost boy stole their son. Tears stung his eyes as he flew across the sky, Sam and Tucker would know what to do. They would stall for him, as long as they could. The road raced past him, he went through cars and buildings not bothering to fly high in the sky. The less time he wasted the better. As he floated into his room, he had to take a moment. The reality of it all crashing into him, he felt another wave of stress come over him.

Choking on sobs he fell to his bed, clinging to the sheets. He had to calm down, he didn't have time to cry or pity himself, his parents were probably still tracking him. Which meant the GIW were still following behind, his parents he could one day convince, could one day explain how it all happened. The GIW wouldn't stop though, so long as they were getting paid and had the government's support he would have to run. He ran to his closet wiping away snot as he phased his emergency supplies from the wall. Extra clothes, a burner phone, and couple hundred dollars thanks to Sam's allowance all stowed away in a backpack. An extra belt with a Fenton thermos, ghost rays, and a pair of Fenton phones for any specters along the way. Finally, five letters addressed to Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Valerie, and his parents.

Sam and Tucker didn't know about these, he didn't know if he would ever need them but knowing his friends would drop everything to follow him, he needed to make sure Amity would be safe. Sam and Tucker's letters were a warning to not follow him, to stay and protect Amity at all costs, even revealing him to Valerie to gain her help if necessary. He couldn't trust his parents or the GIW to not torture any ghost that came into their hands. For Jazz, it was a letter to not look for him and to keep an eye on his parents. If anything changed with his parents, she would be the first to know. He needed her to be the fly on the wall, to make sure he still had parents at the end of it all. If there was ever an end to the running, he thought another wave of sorrow hitting him.

He swallowed the hurt and pushed himself to keep grabbing what he needed. Valerie and his parents were the only letters not mentioning his secret. Valerie's was from Phantom explaining he would be gone, and he didn't know for how long. She would probably be thrilled at the thought of Phantom going away, but if she saw anything that had happened today, she might try and follow him too.  He knows she cares about Fenton and would probably want him safe but if anyone could protect Amity while he was gone it was her. If she needed any help handling the ghosts she could call the number provided. It went straight to Sam and Tucker's burner phone. Only one for the two of them in case either of them had to hide it for the other.

 For his parents, it simply stated that he was sorry and that could explain everything if they ever became open to the truth about ghosts. He did not explain what the truth was or how he would know that they were ready. That was for Jazz to tell him with a single message, she held the final burner phone the group of them had. They would be confused, not sure why phantom would kidnap their kid. Their hatred would grow much to his displeasure, but maybe one day they would give up on hate. They would find him and just ask why, and he could finally let them know the whole truth about him.

As Danny left the letter for his parents on the kitchen table he heard the stomping of feet, the whine of ecto-guns and slamming of doors as his father led the charge into the house. He was gone before they even reached his room. Leaving with what letters he had left to deliver and flying away as quickly as he could. He stopped at Tucker's house first, then Sam's, Valerie's and then flew as high as he could into the sky. He looked down at Amity Park, his home, his entire life, and afterlife.

It always looked so peaceful from up above the clouds, he watched the GAV ram its way through the city. It was good to know there was a slight delay on the GPS, the emotions were able to update in real time but could only follow his trail not his exact location. They had moved on from Tucker's neighborhood and onto Sam's. He took one final breath and tried to steel his nerves. If they were searching for him with emotion, then he would just have to have no emotion. He wouldn't be able to think of home, his friends, his family, or he would start to miss them, an emotion.

He couldn't think about how close the GIW were to him, or he'd become anxious, scared or even angry that they had forced him to flee. He had to stay calm and focused on running, to where he had no clue. If he headed west there was a chance of running into Vlad and he didn't need all the emotional baggage that would come with that. So that just left heading to the East coast and hopefully out of the country. He'd have to stop using his powers at some point to make sure he was untraceable.

"Goodbye, Amity. Hello worst road trip ever." he spoke softly flying off into the night.

- -      -

Hello! Author here, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! It’s intended to be sort of a prologue and set up the rest of the story. This is a crossover, but I wanted to get some establishing chapters in focusing on Danny and why he is running. I am still very rusty when it comes to writing so feel free to recommend any fixes and critiques. Let me know if I miss any typos!

The goal is to try and update weekly on Fridays or Sundays, so if I don’t post on Friday that probably means it will go up the following Sunday. Thank you to those coming over from Tumblr, loved the hype for another Dannymay fanfic! I’ll be trying to get more stuff posted there!

Let me know what you think through the comments, even if it’s just a simple one word so I can know you’re enjoying the story! See you next week, byee!

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