#the did deliver

[lululeighsworld]

...Ja

Black Butler -Emerald Witch Arc- Chapter 88 and Episode 1

[luvyeni]

❛LIFE AFTER❜ ( 00' liners )

p. roommate!00'liners x fem!reader w. 3.6k+

— 𖦹 warnings. multiple sex scene, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, jealous renjun (bro has it out for haechan)

— 𖦹 ( life with your roomates after what happened previously ) !

authors note. people were asking for a part 2 so i had to deliver.

You threw your head back , jaemins head buried in between your legs — his tongue licking your folds as his nose bumped against your clit. “Ja-jaemin fuck , more.” He held your legs open , holding your stomach down as you squirmed. “Fuck im gonna cum!” You screamed , legs shaking as you came on his tongue.

“Oh fuck!”

He pulled away with that same condescending smirk he wore every time he ate you out. “Jesus princess , you’re gonna pull my hair out of you keep gripping it like that.” You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

You felt his cock twitching against you , reaching down to stroke him through his pants. “Sh-shit don’t.” He grabbed your hand. “Why not?” you questioned. “as much as I want bury my cock it your pretty pussy , I have class.” He said. “you’re gonna go the class hard.”

He shrugged , standing up on the bed. “Not like I haven’t before , it really helps with the ladies.” He wiggled his eyes brows , causing you to roll your eyes once again. “you jealous princess?” he smirked  , you scoffed.  “And why would I be jealous?” you slid your panties back on. “Oh yeah that’s right , you have three other alternatives.” He said — just as jeno walked into your room. “there goes one of them.”

It had been a long time since it was supposed to be a “one time thing” with your roommates — many times you’ve found yourself in jeno’s and jaemins bed , or haechan sneaking inside your room at night whining about how horny he was , asking you to help him out — which you almost always did.

Renjun on the other hand — he never really came to you , more like you went to him. He never denied you , or course not , he would never miss the opportunity to fuck you or have you go down on him , especially whenever he was stressed.

“Sorry sweet , can’t fuck you today , I have a class as well.” Jeno eyed your half naked body. “when have any of you cared about school that much?” you pouted. “haechan is on his way, you know he’s never not ready to fuck you.” Jeno said. “fine , and when I start fucking him only don’t say anything.” They both scoffed , seeing your bluff. “Jaemin , you know what I can miss a day , what about you?”

Jaemin smirked , you looked in between the both of them confused. “Yeah , it just a regular class , I can watch online.” Before you even ask what they were talking about , jeno was picking your body up , you yelped in surprise. “Jeno!” He held you down against his hardening cock. “You want cock so much , how about taking two?”

It was always just you and one of them , but the thought of two of them made your panties soak. “Look at her eyes , going dumb just by the thought.” Jaemin snickered,  his cock in front of your face. “that’s what you want to take two cocks at the same time -hm- like a slut?” you grinded down on jeno cock , he groaned out , slapping your ass , gripping it. “Sh-shit jeno.”

He lifted you up , pulling his cock out from his underwear and sweats , jerking his cock , slapping his head against your ass. “gonna fuck this cunt.” He pulled your panties to the side — his cockhead rubbing against your folds. “treat you like the whore you arm.” He abruptly pushed you down on his cock , both of you moaning out. “fu-fuck , pussy is so good.”

He pushed you down on your cock , the burn from his cock stretching you out deliciously. “that’s it , take my fat cock.” You moved your hips up and down , lifting your shirt up , sucking on you boobs that bounced on his face.

Meanwhile , jaemin was teasing you — his cock long freed from his pants , tapping against your lips , leaving behind a trail of his pre-cum. “you want my cock down your throat princess , want me to abuse your mouth while fucks you cunt.” He pushed his tip into your mouth. “fuuuuck , your mouth is so warm.” He groaned , sliding his cock into your mouth.

He slowly fucked into your mouth , occasionally hitting the back of your throat every time jeno fucked up into your hole. “God your mouth is like heaven.” He groaned. “gotta fuck your mouth often.” Jeno slapped your ass. “M'shit , your pussy is choking my cock , gonna cum inside you.”

He lifted his legs up , getting a better angle as he fucked you , you cursed , your words being muffled by jaemins cock. “Sh-shit keep doing that , she’s moaning like a slut on my dick.” He threw his head back. “Fuck! Im gonna cum down your throat.”

He grabbed the back of your head , pushing it all the way down , using your mouth like some sort of toy , before you felt his cum shoot to the back of your throat. “Oh fuck!” he cursed , pulling out , jerking off his still hard cock , more cum shooting from his red cock on to your lips , all the way up to your lips. “Look at you , nasty baby , gonna let jeno cum inside?”

“Y-yes.” You yelled out , feeling yourself about to cum. “i-im gonna fucking cum.” Jeno rutted his hips up faster. “Jeno -fuck- jeno im cumming!” you let out a pornographic scream , legs shaking , falling over as you came. “shaking like a leaf on my cock.” He laughed. “Jae she really a little slut.”

“Sh-shit im gonna cum.” Jeno hissed , pressing you down , nuzzling his cock deep inside as he came. “take my fucking cum slut , take it like the cumdump you are.” He fully emptied himself inside you — thank god for birth control.

“You have a filthy mouth.” You hissed as jeno cleaned you up. “me, had your mouth not been full of cock we both know your mouth is just as filthy as mines.” He helped you get dressed. You turned to jaemin who was resting on your bed. “did I say you can sleep here?” he opened one eyes before speaking.

“you just sucked the soul out of me , I did a nap and your room is the most comfortable." He closed his eyes — you turned to jeno who shook his head. “im gonna go watch the class online , since someone made me miss a class.” He said walking out of the room.

Renjun walked through the door , dropping his bag tiredly , his classes had worn him out — he just wanted to fall asleep in his bed , he didn’t even have the energy to fix himself some food , going straight to his room to sleep.

Well at least that’s what he wanted , to take a nice sleep — but instead he had to listen to you scream on the other side of his wall as his other two roommates fucked you. “sh-shit.” He could feel his cock stirring awake in his sweats , your moans were like music to his ears , bringing his hand to palm his cock. “No.” he stopped himself , he wasn’t gonna do that , turning on his side,  taking his pillow to cover his ear to block out the sounds.

By the time you guys were done , he was no longer even tired , he was hard a fuck and desperate to relieve himself — maybe he could ask you. You always came go him , he was too nervous to ask , but he knew he’d end up fucking his hand until his wrist grew tired if he tried to jerk off.

After playing mental gymnastics in his hand , he got up making his way put his bedroom to knock on yours. “come in.” he heard your soft voice , smiling to himself as he opened the door , stepping in , his smile immediately dropping as he looked at the scene in front of him.

You sat on your bed , scrolling through phone , half naked — while a half naked jaemin slept beside you. “o-oh shit im sorry.” He said , turning. “we aren’t doing anything , he’s sleep how can I help you?” He stared at your bare thighs,  wanting nothing more to than burry his head in between them , but he couldn’t cause of jaemin — lord he hated jaemin right now.

“O-oh n-nothing I was wondering if you wanted to get take out?” he said , cursing himself out in his head. “Sure , whatever you want is fine.” He nodded , taking a quick last peek at your thighs before making his way out of the room , shutting the door. “you know he wanted to fuck right?”

You slightly jumped , turning to him. “you scared me.” You slapped his chest. “And what do you know?” You said. “because im a man , I saw that look in his eyes.” He sat up. “how did you see anything if you were sleep.” You rolled your eyes. “call is a sixth sense.” He pinched your thigh , you slapped his hand. “that hurt.”

“Let me kiss it better.” He kissed your thigh. “I know what you’re doing.” He smirked against your thigh , before placing another kiss , spreading your legs. “good then we can skip that part.” He lowered his head in between your thighs.

“I'm home now , i just in.” you held the bags in your hand , making your way to your room — shopping tired you out and all you wanted was to lay down and watch tv in your bed.

Your door was open — that was strange , you always kept it closed. You walked up to the door , hearing a loud curse , realizing who it was , kicking the door open. “haechan how many times have I told you not to come into my room to use my computer.”

He turned in your chair , smiling. “I was waiting for you to come home.” He said. “I missed you.” He whined. “shut up mark.” He spoke through his headset.  “Wow you’re really comfortable — get out.” You dropped your bags. “Im tired and I don’t want to hear you yelling at mark right now.”

You heard him say goodbye to mark , as you got undress to your underwear , climbing into bed — feeling a dip right after.  “haechan I said — but I want you.” He whined in your ear.  “I waited all day for you.” You could feel him grinding his cock against your thigh , it made you smirk. “yeah?”

You brought your hand to his hard on squeezing it in your palm , he moaned. “what do you want.” You palmed him , he tried his best not to grind against your hand so he wouldn’t cum. “i-I want to f-fuck you , p-please.” He stuttered out. “Please.”

He sounded so cute begging for you like that , humping you leg. “keep humping my thigh , then maybe i'll let you fuck me.” He whined , annoyed. “Y-y/n why?” he pouted , still not stopping his movements though. “because I like watching you act like a bunny in heat.” You teased. “fucking my thigh like it’s the last thing you’ll ever fuck.” You bit his ear lobe , his hips stuttered against your leg. “fuck?”

He felt his front becoming wet , his ears turning red — he’d just came in his pants like a teenager. “good boy.” You praised. “you can fuck me now.” He wasted no time , ripping his pants  off , throwing them along with his ruined underwear , climbing in between your legs. “Slow down hyuck , im not going anywhere.”

“I’m so horny.” He pressed his needy tip at your entrance. “I can’t help it.” He pushed into your waiting hole. “of fuck , I can’t.” He felt like he was going crazy the way your cunt gripped him like vice. “your pussy is too tight.” You moaned , as he rutted into your hole. “fu-fuck hyuck your so big.”

He reached between your sweaty bodies , rubbing your hard clit. “oh fuck hyuck im gonna cum , fuck!” you shouted  , he sped up his movements. “m-me too , I want you to cum first.” He stuttered. “Cum first.” He rubbed harsher circles on your clit. “fuck im cumming!” You moaned , tightening your legs around his waist as you came. “fu-fuck cum inside me hyuck.”

“Shit.” He cursed upon hearing your lewd words.  “fuck im cumming.” He emptied himself inside you , rutting his hips a few times to ride out his high, before pulling out his softening cock.

“Didn’t know you had a breeding kink.” He teased , you rolled your eyes. “Don’t tease me when you came all over  yourself not only 20 minutes ago.” He shrugged , nestling into your side. “no shame in my game , not every day a bad bitch lets you hump her thigh.” You laughed. “you are so corny.”

“Good morning lazy bums.” You walked into the kitchen where everyone was. “its 11:30 , and we’re the lazy bums , do you even go to school?” Jaemin joked. “when absolutely necessary.” You grabbed a yogurt from the fridge . “I need my beauty sleep.” You said.

“Or maybe you need to stop fucking haechan 4 o’clock in the morning.” Jeno said , both of you turned to him. “what I do in her bedroom is none of your business.” He said , with his mouth full of cereal. “it is when its 4 o’clock in the morning.” Renjun muttered, he was quietly sitting at the table , watching you. “Are you just upset that it's not you?” hyuck teased, you slapped his hand. “Go get ready.” You said. “Before I tell everyone what you did the other day.” He quickly got up , making his way into his room. “he doesn’t know you told us already.” You shook your head. “I have few more errands , don’t tell him just yet.”

“do you have class today?” you asked renjun once you both were alone , he shook his head — he’d been doing that a lot lately , only using head , or really short answers. “No.”

He stood up , putting his dish in the sink. “im going back to my room.” He said before making his way back to his cave where could be alone.

He didn’t mean to be so rude , he knew he shouldn’t be jealous , it’s not that he hated what you were doing , he just wish he could come to you like they could , without getting nervous — like how haechan did , fuck sometimes he wanted to stuff his mouth with socks.

Jeno and jaemin he had no problem with them , at least they didn’t be smug assholes about it — bur hyuck , he had to let everyone know what was going on , tease him to his face , mock him , it just pissed him off.

It pissed him off always hearing you moan his name , how much a dick he’d be in the morning after. “fuck.” He groaned , the mere thought of your moans turned him on , so desperately wanting to feel you again.

You knocked on his door , waiting for him to answer. “Jun.” you called , he opened the door. “yes?” He stuck his head out. “I just wanted to ask if you’re okay?” no he was horny as hell , and wanted to beat haechan up. “im fine.”

“you sure , you just seem.” You started. “Seem what?” he said. “well like you are — upset?” he interrupted. “well yeah.” You said. “are you?” You asked. “yes.” He said , your lips parted to speak. “is that not what you wanted me to say?” he said. “that everything was just fine when it’s not.” He was now out of the room , backing you against your bedrooms door. “just like always.”

You didn’t know why , but his new change of attitude was turning you on. “w-well why are you upset?” you tried not to stutter but he pressed against you,  his breath fanning against your face. “You want know princess , you really want to know?” fuck that nickname almost made your knees buckle. “Because im horny as fuck. He said.

“Im horny as fuck , and every time I want to come to you , you’re always busy , or too busy fucking haechan to even notice.” His hand running up your arm , causing you to shiver. “He’s always in the way , I don’t care about the others , but it’s always him.” His lips were so close to yours. “im so sick of him.” He pressed his lips against yours.

He opened the door — you stumbled back but he caught you , not breaking the kiss until you reached the bed. “sit down.” He pushed you down , sitting in front of your legs , spreading them. “he talks so much shit about how he does this better , m’gonna show him.” He pulled down your panties. “such a wet cunt.” He licked your folds. “taste so good.” He dove right in , licking at your cunt , using his thumb to rubbed at your clit.

You threw your head , back holding his head. He was better than hyuck , but you’d never tell , you were trying  to start world war three in the apartment.  “so fucking good jun.” he hummed against your cunt. “shit.”

He added a finger , thrusting slowly in your cunt , sucking at your clit. “fuck jun im gonna cum!” he gave you the okay , your legs stiffened as you came. “oh my god.” You gasped , he pulled away , his lips glossy.

He didn’t mutter a word , pushing you back against the bed , climbing on top of you. “re-rejun , please.” You begged. “Please fuck me.” He palmed himself , releasing his hard cock. “Do you even deserve it?” He rubbed himself against your heat. “I don’t think you do.”

“pl-please , I want it.” You moaned , he slowly push his cock into your hole , stopping at his tip. “you want the hole thing?” he teased , slowly fucking you with his tip. “re-renjun please.” Tears wielding in your eyes. “awe are you crying.” He teased. “you want my cock that bad?” you nodded. “pl-please.”

He pushed himself all the way in , bottoming out. “fuck such a nice cunt.” He moved his hips , dragging his cock in and out of your hole. “nice and tight.” He groaned. “f-faster.” You cried , he began to snap his hips against yours , pinching your nipples. “Fu-fuck im not gonna last if you keep gripping me like that.”

You were overwhelmed , ready to cum at any moment. “you gonna cum princess?” he said. “cum all over my cock? Do it , cum.” He commanded , and with that you came , tightening around him. “oh shit , im gonna cum.” He grunted. “shit.”

You felt his seed pour inside you , you sighed at the feeling. “so good.” He stilled his hips , making sure he was empty , before pulling out. “shit.” He watched it leak out of you. “that’s so hot.”

He helped you get dressed — putting on your clothes back on , you sat up in the bed , pulling him back down on the bed. “what?” You pushed him down , to lay down. “maybe if you stayed , haechan wouldn’t always be here to keep me company.”

His face turned red , you laughed. “if you want to come hang out with me , then just ask, you don’t have to make this whole thing weird , you see me and jaemin , we hang out all the time.” You said. “even when we aren’t you know.”

“Then let’s go somewhere, tomorrow.” He asked , just as the door opened. “yeah let’s go.” Hyuck walked in , renjun was about to get up , but you stopped him. “hyuck , I love you but not today.” The boy pouted. “why not , he’s about to leave isn’t he?” You shook your head. “no , he’s staying here and hanging out with me , we can hang out later on , now go.” You sent the pouting boy on his way , you turned to him with a smile.

“Now what should we do?”

©️LUVYENI

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 22nd of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: There we are. A door is smiling at you again. Are you ready to open it? Take a peek? Maybe engulf in it? I thank you for your time and I hope you will enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Shane x Fem!HYBRID!Reader

ᴡᴄ: 7501 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: the reader is a HYBRID, Shane is rough, raw sex, public sex, seduction, despair, talks of alcoholism and depression, Shane is a fucking grump, creampie, loads of cursing and degredation.

The Feast of the Winterstar – what fucking humbug. That was at least what Shane had always believed ever since he had turned 13 years old. Over the years that thought had settled and manifested in something borderline hateful. He hated the way people pretended to care about one another for one day. Hated how people started talking to him the closer it got to that Yoba-forsaken day – people that didn’t even glance his way any other time of the year! Hated coughing up money for gifts for people he couldn’t care less about, hated standing around in the cold, listening to meaningless chatter and looking in faces that were so full of pretence that it made him want to belch. Of course, Shane  wasn’t overly cruel, thoug. He always managed to fetch a gift for Jas, wrap it and pretend it was from someone that wasn’t him, always managed to help her set up a little tree in her room, and he always managed to go through the motions of all the traditions his niece knew and loved. Did he like it? No. Did it make him feel any better about any of this? No. Did it make him believe in anything? Hum-fucking-bug. Did he still stomp through the snow in big boots and eat the cookies and drink the milk Jas had set out so she could scream excitedly about Santa’s visit? Yes, but still! – hum-fucking-bug. Shane was huffing and puffing as he walked through Cindersap forest, axe slung over his shoulder and pulling a sleigh behind him. Yet another tradition he didn’t understand. Why the fuck would anyone cut down a tree, just to put it up, decorate it and then throw it out again? And why was he the one that needed to do it? For fuck’s sake. He grumbled, heavy boots sinking into the snow as he trudged on. Marnie had told him her and Jas had found a tree that was just perfect, and that they had marked it with a cross in the snow for him – “you will find it so easily!”. Yeah, right. The skies had already started to darken when he had gotten off work, and the forest didn’t necessarily increase his sight. But no, it had to be done right this instant. “What if it snows, Shane!” Marnie had asked, accompanied by his niece’s puppy dog eyes. “Fuck this bullshit,” he hissed, rubbing his gloved hand over his face. All the trees looked the fucking same, what the fuck could make one perfect? Besides, would they really notice if he picked any other tree? Knowing his niece, she probably would. Which meant Shane trudged on, pulling the wooden sleigh, carrying his axe. He had almost given up when finally something caught his eye, a cross, sloppily drawn in the snow. “Fuckin’ finally,” Shane hissed, letting the head of the axe drop in the snow, rounding the tree to find the perfect spot for the first whack. He eyed the tree – and for the life of him, he couldn’t fucking figure out what made it “perfect” – then shrugged. He would get it down either way he decided, lifting the axe, making his back muscle tense up, bicep flexing before he made the first blow, strong enough to make his upper body vibrate. The tree shook, making a load of snow drop off a branch, hitting the dark-haired man right on the head. “What the actual fuck is this fucking shit-whacking bullshit, I fucking HATE fucking whatever this fucking is!” He hollered, dropping the axe, trying to shake the snow off of his beanie and coat, but he still ended up with some melting down his hairy back. “FUCK! Feast on my big, fat, DICK you stupid winterstar!”

The string of curses didn’t let up as he picked up the axe again, an aggressive blow being delivered to the tree trunk, one that had made his whole body tense and shake as the energy was released. Just as he lifted the tool a third time, though, did he hear a sound over the strings of fuck’s and shit’s. Had he just heard steps? It had sounded like it, but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw nothing but…trees. He rose a brow, then shrugged his broad shoulders once more, cussing again when he felt the cold on his back again. The third blow was more precise than the angry one from before, landing in that edge he had hit into the tree the first time. Finally, it seemed he was getting somewhere- “’Scuse me,” a tiny voice suddenly asked, making him twirl around, almost stumbling. “Holy FUCK, what the hell?” He snapped, axe held in front of his chest, blinking against the growing shadows. He let his head tilt slowly when he saw the silhouette that looked… human. But- What was that on its head? He leaned forward a little more, but it turned out that he didn’t need to. The figure stepped out of the shadows slowly, approaching him with a sweet smile on her lips. “Are you Shane?”

Usually, Shane would have had an impromptu answer for things like this – “fuck the fuck off and leave me alone” was his personal favourite, not kind, but effective – but something had caught his attention. Those ears definitely weren’t human, way too long and twitchy. And the last time he had checked, humans didn’t have fucking antlers.  Was he drunk? He had had one beer, hadn’t he? Yeah. He hadn’t had time to drink yet. So why was this fucking girl wearing antlers? “The fuck?” He asked, brows furrowing in a frown. “Why do you know my name? And why the HELL are you wearing antlers? Are you one of those seasonal freaks from Joja? Fuck right off where you came from.” Another usually – usually, people would frown, or just laugh awkwardly and walk away, the most unusual thing that had happened to him was someone daring to show him the finger. Asides from Sam, of course. Sam, ever the stubborn- he was getting off topic. This…person…didn’t follow his “usually” either. You just smiled softly at him, ears twitching as you stepped closer. “I am not wearing antlers, I have antlers.” “Yeah, right, and my dick is a snow cone. Want a lick before you piss off?” Honestly, it was getting cold, making the snow cone comment not as unbelievable as he had hoped, but like hell he would tell…you. “That does actually sound quite pleasant.” Again, Shane’s brows furrowed almost automatically. You were definitely taking the piss, and he didn’t even fucking know you.   “Fuck off, I am fucking busy, too busy to play with a furry.” This time, a laugh left your lips, a sound that sounded like bells chiming softly, so clear and warm that it made his facial features soften a little. “Beings like me are called a hybrid, Shane,” you told him, snow crunching under your boots as you stepped closer. Shane blinked at you like he had done before, his fingers wrapping tighter around the handle of the axe. “Yeah, right. Stop shitting me and finally leave me alone. Ya see that I am fuckin’ busy, don’tcha? Or do “beings like you” have piss poor eyesight?” Yet again, no irritation, no confusion, not even a flash of a negative emotion could be seen on your face, he was met with nothing but another of those pretty laughs. And why did it make his heart beat faster? “Why are you doing this?” “Doin’ what?” “Cutting down a tree, Shane.”  Crunching snow. You had taken another step, and Shane could almost make out your features now. “’Cause it’s fuckin’ normal, unlike runnin’ ‘round a damned forest, pretending to be a deer and snoopin’ round-” “Reindeer, if you please.” “What-fucking-ever. Runnin’ ‘round like a rein-…Wow, you really ARE takin’ the piss, huh? Who paid you enough to be like this?” Twitch. How did you manage to get those ears to twitch? “I thought you didn’t like the holidays.” “I fuckin’ don’t.” “Then why are you cutting down a tree for the festivities?” Holy shit. Poor Shane had to take a deep breath now, trying to regain  control over his thoughts, just to end up…irritated when a different scent than just foresty musk hit his nose. Cinamon? Why did the air smell like cinnamon and cookies now? “Because- uh…,” he had to clear his throat, the sweetness in the air making his throat run dry in a way that led him to stumble over his words, “how the fuck- uh- how the hell would you know it’s for that? Maybe I need it as fire-“ “You always stock up way before winter, Shaney.” Shaney? What the hell was happening here- Snow was crunching again, and finally, you were close enough for him to see you, and Yoba, even Shane could admit that you were drop-dead gorgeous. Not that he would say it out loud-

You gave him a smile, one that was just as soft as your laugh had been, long lashes fluttering up at him. It was hard for him to take his eyes off your face, but your antlers caught his attention. What horrified him, though, was that they seemed to be real. “They are pretty, aren’t they? You can touch them, I don’t mind,” you offered, voice soft, eyes shining up at him with a soft glimmer. Like hell he would touch some antlers. He would turn around now and go home, cut that tree down tomorrow. Fuck this shit- “But what really turns me on is when you touch my ears.” Shane’s eyes fell back on you almost immediately, taking in your face again. You were still smiling, all soft and patient, although he did believe to see a hint of a grin underlying that carefully constructed surface. “The fuck do you want?” He asked, a little breathless now. “Me? Oh, nothing, Shaney,” you hummed, leaning a little closer, allowing Shane to hear the soft chime of bells – real bells. His grey eyes snapped down, breath hitching in his throat when he saw your outfit – you were wearing nothing more than a red and white striped skirt, a small green shirt, and a red harness that was laced bells. How the hell had you managed to not freeze to death- “I just want to…You know,” you added on, your hands now on his shoulders, “make you feel a little more festive. Can’t have you gloom around like the last few years now, can I?” You cooed, and something about it just made his cock twitch in his pants. He swallowed down the knot that had begun to form in his throat. Why was he keeping up with this? A crazy-ass bitch, pretending to be a hybrid was standing in front of him, babbling stupid, albeit true, shit and he was taking it. He could just step away and walk home. Tell them it was too dark to find the tree. Prove him wrong, Marnie. But something kept him standing still. Something made his fingers twitch, feeling a dire need to touch those soft looking ears. “Tempting, aren’t they? You can touch, I promise…Would it maybe help you if I called you master?” Yoba, how had you known? Fuck, had you felt his cock twitch just now? He fucking hoped not, even tried to shift his hips away to get some space between them and you. “Oh!~ So you do like being called master. And I am happy to oblige,” you added on, lowering your head, silently offering your ear. And Shane couldn’t believe it, but he reached out. Even took off his gloves to slowly wrap his fingers around the fluffy, sensitive things. He had expected this to be something you were messing about as well, some weird prank, but the sound that left you proved him wrong. So, so wrong.

It sounded so sweet, your little moan. So honest, so warm, vibrating in his ears, hitting a spot he usually kept hidden away so carefully. “That feels good, master,” you sighed, pushing your head in his touch, bringing him face to face with a pair of rather impressive antlers. If Shane had taken a closer look now, he would have noticed that these things most definitely weren’t fake, but the old grump was much too busy to press down on those fuzzy ears, feeling them twitch under his warm hands, hearing that angelic moan again. This time the vibrations didn’t die down in his ears, they went through his whole body, crawled down his spine, making his pudgy dick throb in his pants. Yoba, in every other situation he would have barked at you to get right the fuck off, but you made something in his stomach set ablaze, clawing dangerously at Shane’s otherwise rather simple emotional palette, awakening a need in him he had barely ever felt in the last few years. Again, something the man would have never admitted, but it was true – with how often he had been drunk or depressed, okay, cross that, he had been both more often than not, he had barely been in the mood to do put up with his body in any other way than stuffing it with food or filling it with alcohol. But right now, he could feel his girthy dick throb numbly with your little moans, could feel his breathing growing heavier whenever those little bells chimed as you tried to lean even closer, sighing at the surprisingly sweet massage Shane’s thick fingers delivered.

Shane could not help himself, his eyes moved down your body rather shamelessly. Taking in your tits, the leather of the halter pressing down on them in a way that made his Adam’s apple bob with a thick swallow, took in the way your skirt hugged the plush of your hips, the way it allowed itself to flow down to your mid-thigh to just…stop, revealing long, strong looking legs. Shane’s cock dared to throb again, and he could feel himself harden in his pants, greedy for the dish that offered itself so openly. He would have been ashamed if it hadn’t been so long, and if you had stopped looking at him so prettily. But no, you seemed to melt under his gentle touch, letting out these sounds that made his mind whirr, smiling at him oh so sweetly. He just had to, just had to let his hands slip from your ears, trace down your neck with his thumbs. You didn’t seem to mind, allowing yourself to openly break out in goosebumps, a moan of his name leaving your lips. Fuck, if he hadn’t started hardening before, he surely was now. Fat cock throbbing to life in his pants, vein on the underside of his dick pulsing. But he could hold back still, still unsure, not quite knowing what was happening, and yet he was caught in a daze, one that had his mouth completely dry, and his throat tied into knots, it seemed. Still, his hand had kept wandering, fingertips coming in contact with the cold leather hugging your tits so nicely, making you chuckle quietly. “Looks pretty, doesn’t it?” You breathed, hot breath turning into a cloud as it left your mouth, leaving Shane wanting to swallow it down, his eyes following its slow disappearance with a hint of greed in them. “You know,” you suddenly breathed, fuzzy ears twitching, beautiful eyes looking up at him, and if he wasn’t completely dumb, he was pretty sure he was seeing a glint of mischief in them, “I am not wearing any panties. Thought it to be unnecessary today.”

The way you had said it was cheerful and bright, as if you were singing a happy little tune – and yet it made something within Shane snap. Large hands balling to a fist just to open up again, he grabbed your face and brought it close to his, pressing those chapped lips of his against your soft ones, ignoring the soft tingle jingle that came with the abrupt movements. You seemed to giggle against his lips, willingly parting your own to his lapping tongue, allowing the wet muscle to enter your mouth, moaning greedily when you felt him suck on yours. It seemed like you had gotten him somewhere with this, and it made your heart jump in your chest, especially when you felt a pair of hands wandering down your body, pinching and groping at what they could grasp until they found their new home on your hips, using the leverage to finally pull you into his body. You would have urged him on a little more, really, you would have! The way his tongue licked and sucked yours didn’t make it an easy task, though, and the fact that you were enjoying the deep, rather rough kiss much less so. Teeth clattered against teeth, and his scruff was scratching your face. Not that you minded, quite the opposite. The small sting made you feel all warm. Not even when Shane pulled away, a string of saliva still connecting your lips, were you able to formulate a sentence. You were turned around and pushed against the tree behind you much too quickly – for a man of his size, he moved rather fast, didn’t he? -, your hands finding stable rescue on its bark. “No panties, huh?” Shane snarled, his voice having adopted a deep tone, one that sounded like gravel being grounded under heavy boots, and holy spirits, did it make you shudder. “No, master. Do you perhaps want to check?” You asked, your lip being dragged between your teeth as you arched in your back, pushing your behind backward. There was a short silence, as frosty as the air that was lingering between the two of you. You would have turned your head a little to see the man again, but your antlers were scraping against the tree you were holding on to for support, catching in low hanging branches, leaving you in a rather hopeless position. “M-master?” You asked instead, shifting your hips again. A big paw was still resting between your shoulder blades, holding you in place, which meant he hadn’t just upped and left, which was assuring. You could hear snow crunch under his boots as he shifted, a sound your sensitive ears picked up with ease. You looked downward, seeing Shane’s knee coming up, pressing right into your crotch. Your ears folded backward, a small gasp leaving your lips. You had started getting wet already, and his movement had caught you by surprise, leaving you a little breathless. “How ‘bout you spread your fuckin’ legs f’me then? Bet ya can do that, with the way you’ve been runnin’ your slutty mouth. Right?” The way your heartbeat picked up was probably pretty unhealthy, your legs spreading open until you could feel Shane’s knee comfortably press against your crotch. “Like this?” You asked, bells tingling again as you shifted them open just a little further. What you hadn’t expected was a hand to pinch your side, tickling another moan out of you. “What was that? Thought we agreed on somethin’,” his voice snarled, making you swallow down an aroused chuckle. You hadn’t necessarily agreed on something, but you were way too happy to obey than to correct him. “Yes, master, I apologize. Is this good, master?” You asked, biting your lip yet again when you felt one of his thick fingers slide up your neck, just to run back down, down your spine, hooking in the harness and giving it a rough tug.

The jingle tingle jingle was a well-known noise to you, but in this context, it did nothing but excite you, your little cunt had already started to become wet when Shane had slowly allowed himself to fall into you, but him shifting into this new role did a lot more to you than you could have ever expected. "You can spank me, too, master, if that’s what you’d enjoy,” you suddenly breathed, trying to push your further back – a weak attempt to find the heat that was radiating from Shane’s crotch, but only finding yourself press more against his knee, making you whine out loud.

The dark-haired man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched you, his lower lip bitten as his chest heaved and fell rather quickly. You were so willing, so easy, and so greedy at the same time. Having a knee pressed against your cunt and still searching for his cock. It was no surprise that his free hand was pawing at his dick through his pants, giving it a few rough tugs as he watched you squirm under the pressure of his hand. You had seemingly found out that pushing back against him felt good, because that searching little hump had turned into you rutting your greedy cunt into his knee. Shane hadn’t allowed you to do so, though, had he?

His hand left his cock, instead gripping your ass through your skirt. The sound you gave was surprised, but definitely aroused as well. Your eats were folded toward him, another sign that Shane was happily ignoring in favour of letting his open palm smack down on your ass. “I didn’t fuckin’ allow you to touch yourself, did I, you greedy fuckin’ thing?” “N-no, master,” you breathed, voice shaky with the pleasurable sting spreading through your body. And Yoba, there came another one, harder than the first one, and even though the blow was softened ever so slightly by your little skirt, it still made the skin on your ass burn – his hand was big, and Shane was strong from all his work in the warehouse, despite the gut he had put on from drinking too much alcohol and eating food that was way too unhealthy.  He simply wasn’t one to be underestimated.

The third smack was just as hard as the second one, landing on the exact same, stinging spot as the other two did, forcing your hands to curl against the tree, the excitement that had been bubbling inside of you having grown to something else, something bigger, something way more lustful, something way more… needing. “I am sorry, master!” You moaned out, the quiver in your voice being joined with the jingling of your bells. “Will hold still now, master!” You promised, eyes squeezing shut when you felt another smack increasing the stinging sensation on your ass. “’S’that so?” “Yes, sir!” “That’s what I like to hear,” Shane sighed. Shit, he was hard. Hard and throbbing in his pants, cock begging to be freed from its confines, to drool its fat globs of pre out in the open. First, he had to check something, though. His hand slowly soothed over your ass as it was wandering down to the hem of your skirt, long-cold fingers fetching the fabric to flip your skirt upward, and what he was met with made him groan out loud. It was a deep sound, one coming from his belly. A primal, needy one, one that made your whole body feel like it was set on fire. “You really aren’t wearing any panties,” he breathed, making you shake your head. “I am not, sir.” “And you have a tail.” “I do, sir.” “What happens when I- shit, your cunt’s clenchin’ ‘round nothin’, ya like that? Yeah? Like when I tug on your tail?” He asked, fingers still wrapped around the fluffy tinsel, giving it another tug. If he could have only seen your face, mouth hanging open as if you were about to moan, eyes squeezing shut. What he did see, though, was your pretty cunt, busying itself with clenching around nothing whenever he gave just a teeny tiny tug.

“And you are so wet already, too…Fuckin’ hell, aren’tcha a dirty lil whore, huh?” The attempt to answer was interrupted by the silent moan that had been stuck in your throat finally escaping when you could feel a cold finger trace through your hot, wet cunt. “What is it, reindeer? Ain’t gonna talk to me anymore? Brain already shut off?” you shook your head from side to side, desperately attempting to find the words needed to formulate an appropriate answer, but Shane’s finger slowly circling your twitchy little hole kept pushing them just out of reach. Besides, it already took way too much out of you to not just push back, urge that finger that tapped your cunt’s entrance with mean temptation deep inside of you. Lucky little reindeer girl, because Shane seemed to have just about enough mercy for you to let the tip of his middle finger dip inside your gushy hole. It was just enough to brush that itch you felt burning within you, just enough to make you sigh out, but you. Needed. More.

Your tail was shaking from side to side as Shane teased your pussy, thumb tapping at your clit with cruel curiosity, grey eyes taking in the way your body trembled whenever he did. You were so wet already, taking in his finger with such ease that he needed to swallow thickly, mental image of his cock buried to the hilt inside that warm, pretty, slutty hole popping up in front of his inner eye. God, he needed that. And yet, he couldn’t just give that to you, could he? “Still didn’t hear ya. Maybe I should just…stop,” he breathed, his hand already threatening to pull away. That was when you were able to snap into motion, shaking your head quickly, the frantic tingling of your harness only underlining your despair. “No! Sir, no, please! Please, I- I need you!” “What was that?” He asked, the tug on your harness squishing your tits together almost uncomfortably, adding to the feeling of being about to burst. “I need you, Sir! Pretty, pretty, please!” The snap against your ass and the tug against the harness made your eyes roll, body trembling for more. “Dirty fuckin’ slut. I don’t know ‘bout all this hybrid shit, but I do fuckin’ know ya are a desperate little whore. Nothin’ but a cum dump, isn’t that right? Comin’ up to me to be filled?” You were breathing heavily, ears’ twitching signalling that you were listening. It was true, all of it was true. You wanted to be filled by him, you couldn’t wait to be filled by him. Cunt so painfully wet that you were pretty sure you could feel some of your juices run down the inside of your thighs, body so reactive that even the brush against your tail made your head spin.

Smack. That one had been a hard one, one that made your body jerk forward, one that made you stumble to collect your words yet again. “Yes, sir! Nothing more but a cum dump for you! Can’t wait to please your cock, master!” That was what you had planned to say, at least. Your words came out way more slurred in the form of a whimper, mumbled under your breath as you tried to recollect your last braincells that weren’t busy focusing on you being a cock-hungry slut. Shane himself had trouble focusing. The cold air stung on his cheeks, but he was too focused on you to really notice. The way his hand kept your back arched in, the way you yourself greedily pushed back to expose your cunt further. There was no way he could resist, no way he could stop his hand to unbuckle his belt with that heavy clink, no way he could stop himself from messily removing his painfully hard dick from its tight confines, grunting when the pudgy head smacked against his winter coat. Not to toot his own horn, but Shane’s size was admirable – his dick being the only few things about himself that he had liked, and even that body part of him had been barely functioning. A considerable size as to not say big, with a pudgy, fat head, readily leaking pre-cum that ran down the girthy shaft. He considered you with a sharp look in his eyes, hand pinching at the bottom of his cock before, thoughtfully smacking it against your hole, grinning to himself at the way you twitched, as if your cunt begged for him to finally fill it up. Shane wasn’t cruel, however, his hand leaving his cock again, reaching around you and holding his palm out under your mouth. You looked down at him it in slight confusion, ears twitching again. “Ma-master?” “Spit,” he ordered. That was a request you didn’t need to hear twice; you pursed your pretty lips as you collected a fat glop of spit, readily letting it fall from your mouth onto his hand. The groan that could be heard from behind your back made your tail wag from side to side, heart pounding in your chest, especially when a soft praise followed: “That’s a good girl.” Shane’s hand left her back to rub your ear momentarily, his other hand busying itself slowly running down his shaft, coating his fat cock in your spit, rubbing over the tip and pulling down to make your saliva and his pre-cum mix together in a dirty makeshift lube. “You, uh-“ “Fuck me,” you whispered, your voice a little quieter than intended. Your antlers still made it impossible for you to look over your shoulder, but you were more than willing to spread your legs wider. “Shit, you are a fuckin’ slut,” he laughed, a sound that made your heart jump, laughing with him, albeit yours sounded a lot wobblier.

The heat between your legs made it impossible to think clearly, and his hands, oh, his hands. The one on your ear had started wandering again, exploring your body with rough grabs and gropes. Big palm pressing against your tit, giving it a smack and a squeeze, before a thumb gently rolled over the hardened nipple. It would have almost distracted from his trip pressing against your drippy hole, but the moment he pushed onward, all of your attention was focused on the sensation between your legs. “Oh, ohohohoh!” You babbled, head falling back. Shane felt like his heart was about to explode – your cunt was stunningly warm, gummy walls hugging around his tip in a way that brought him close to just mounting you, bottoming out inside of you with just one thrust. It was tempting, really, filling you to the hilt, stuffing you full of cock just like this. Instead, his hand found that ear again, pressing a gentle massage into it, praising lowly. “Thaaat’s a good slut. Look at you, already suckin’ off my dick, good girl. Gonna move a lil more, okay? Gonna stretch that lil pussy open, that’s fuuuckin’ it, take it.” His cock was honestly aching with despair, with the need to be wrapped up and suffocated by her walls, the dark-haired man’s brain completely shut off as he watched his dick vanish inside her cunt, centimetre by centimetre. And the sounds. Yoba, the sounds you made. They were heavenly. Whiney gasps, breathy moans, begging whimpers, all tumbling out of your mouth freely as he bucked forward. He was about halfway in when he finally gave you a break, your eyes swimming in tears at the unusual size filling your cunt. “Good girl,” he praised again, kissing your shoulder blade carefully. “Think you can take it all, huh? Want me to fill you up nicely, little whore?” Yoba, yes, you wanted him to fill you to the brim. Fuck you senseless, use you however he pleased. His size made your eyes roll as you moved, gasping his name out in the cold night air, leaving it there to be carried away by a gust of wind. His cock was throbbing against your walls, pulsing with each clench your pussy gave in an attempt to adjust. You were struggling, the stinging sensation mixing with pleasure in a way you hadn’t expected it to, leading you to allow yourself to push back against him. “Need more, huh? Cunt’s not full enough yet? Pathetic,” he growled, his façade cracking with how quickly he was obeying, pushing in further, making your cunt take him, until he finally was balls-deep inside of you. Your jaw was hanging open again, fingernails digging in the bark of the tree. You were pretty sure you could feel each and every pulse that went through him in your whole body with how full you felt. “Pussy stretched fuckin’ thin now? That’s what ya like? Filled up like this, pinned against a stupid tree? Wish I could see your face right now, lil reindeer. Bet you look absolutely, deliciously stupid.” And you did. Really, you did. A small drop of spittle hung by the corner of your mouth, your eyes were glazed over with nothing short of dumb pleasure, pretty lashes fluttering when Shane started moving. He moved slowly at first, only pulling back a little and thrusting back in with a considerate stroke.

“Relax for me, babe- that’s it, that’s fuckin’ it. Gushin’ ‘round my cock like that, needy fuckin’ thing- fuck, ya feel so good,” he sighed, his hips moving faster, fucking into you with more vigour now, trying to get more of those delicious sounds out of you. The bells on your harness jingled dutifully as Shane fucked into you from behind, his pace fastening with each thrust.  Oh, how you loved it. Moaning his name shamelessly, gasping whenever it rewarded you a hard smack on the ass, switching back to master, just to slip up again. Being taken against a tree like this was new to you, and if a reindeer hybrid like you had a wish to make, you would have wished for this to never end. Cock stretching you thin, pounding whatever frustrations Shane had into you – and you were happy to take it, especially when he leaned in to praise you so filthily. “Hear that? Hear how your whore cunt is takin’ me? Messy lil slut, holy shit. Good fuckin’ girl.” You swallowed him up so well, cunt complaining with a squelching sound when he pulled back, just to greet him with another sloppy wet sound when he fucked back into you, balls smacking mercilessly against your skin with the rough fucks he was giving you. The pale skin on your ass had started to redden from the cold, but if he looked closely, he could make out the shape of his fingers. Fuck, you took him so well, it should have been illegal. “Like that? Like bein’ fucked against a tree? Ohhhooo, you clenchin’ up again – must be lovin’ it. Twitchy fuckin’ pussy,” he hissed, pelvis smack, smack, smacking into your ass as he took you just how he pleased. The hard, bullying thrusts had turned your brain to complete mush. The cold winter air had no chance against the warmth you felt prickling on your skin, radiating from an ever-consuming heat pooling within you. “Ma-mahaster!” You cried out, making Shane groan lowly. “Feelin’ good, whore? Cunt’s pounded good? Shit, you’re so good f’me, fuckin’ love this pussy.”

A particular rough snap was bullied into you before he began to snap his hips fast again, the string of moans leaving your lips only urging him to push you further, push you closer to the edge. His hand smacked your ass, this time the other cheek, tearing a sob from you, cold skin being forced to heat up with a stinging sensation. “Play with your tits for me,” Shane hissed, his balls feeling painfully tight. If his brain had been any clearer, he would have been surprised that he wasn’t completely out of breath yet, but something about you, cross that, everything about you made it just so easy for him. You felt so full, so hot, and so, so fucking close. Your orgasm was so, so close, making the hand that was pinching and grabbing at yourself shaky, your eyes rolling, legs twitching. “Sh-shane-“ You began, gasping out loud as he picked up one of your legs, pushing it forward, seemingly hitting impossibly deeper.  The words that had been on your tongue had tumbled back down your throat, burning in that pit of hot lava in your stomach that threatened to overtake you, your head falling back, almost hitting the relentless man with your antlers. Shane let out a breathless chuckle, the grunts and groans that had been leaving him barely allowing him to hear your sentence, but the way your body was beginning to twitch and shiver was enough. His fingers found your clit, arm awkwardly wrapped around your hip to reach between your legs, rubbing that little bundle of nerves, smacking his lips together to try and regain his ability to speak. “Ya gonna cum for me? That’s it? Pretty cunt’s gonna spill all over me? Fuckin’ do it. Cum for me, baby, want to have it all.”

You could do nothing but nod, and nod you did. Frantically, bells jingling as your hips fucked back against the rough thrusts that would for sure leave you behind sore, and you would relish the fact that you were. Your breathing came out in short puffs, moans all high pitched as your back arched in, your hand wrapping around the wrist of his hand that was rubbing your clit, a sobbed cry of his name announcing your orgasm that knocked the air right out of your lungs. “Fuhuckkkk, holy fuckin’ shit,” Shane moaned, his other hand wrapping around your stomach to pull you closer, ignoring the feeling of antlers bumping against his head. He needed you close, and he needed you to be close right now as you were creaming around his cock. “Good girl! Perfect girl, fuck! That’s it – cum for me. Cream around me- You are gonna make me cum, fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he gasped, babbling some more lewd curses as he thrusted into you, holding you as close to himself as he possibly could. His breathing became ragged as he neared his orgasm, making your ears perk, even in the dazed state of mind your orgasm had left you in. Your free hand reached back, finding the back of his neck, fingers curling in the strands of hair you could find, giving a small tuck. “Nee-need you to- cum,” you drooled, weakly pushing back your hips.

The dark-haired man could feel his hips stutter, feeling like an invisible hand wrapped around his throat as something inside of him finally snapped. He bucked forward, pressing you against him as ropes of cum started to shoot from his dick, low groan leaving him. The feeling of being filled like this, so snugly pressed against him, it did something to you. Something that made the tears that had filled your eyes finally spill, something that made you want this to never end.

Shane was quivering behind you as he weakly bucked his hips forward, milking his dick with the help of your pussy just like he had milked your cunt – to be honest, he was desperate to fill you up as much as he could, fill you up enough for you to feel it for as long as possible. But, years of alcoholism and depression finally caught up to him, making his hips quiver to a halt, head bumping against your shoulder as he greedily sucked in a lungful of air. And that’s how you were standing there, wrapped in the darkness of the forest, dick stuffed in your cum-filled cunt. How you loved this feeling already. You didn’t know how long the two of you had been standing there like this, but at some point, Shane started to feel the cold settling in, biting at his skin with icy fangs. And even though he would have known a billion other things he would have preferred, he slowly began pulling out, snapping you out of that haze. “Fuck,” he breathed, making you finally turn your head as crunching snow indicated steps turning away. Shane had picked up his messily discarded gloves before slowly returning to you. “Might pinch a lil now, but I don’t know what else I could use,” he explained. You were watching him in confusion as he leaned down, gasping out loud when the rough material of the glove touched your raw cunt. “Sorry, baby. Just need to clean ya up a lil, can’t let ya- there we go, relax for me,” he murmured, dabbing at you oh so carefully. Each contact made you twitch, but his gentle care which posed such a stark contrast to the demeanour from before – you didn’t have the heart to tell him that this would be no problem at all for you. “There, a little better,” he murmured, adjusting your skirt before giving his dick a rather quick swipe before he slowly zipped himself up again. Suddenly, a realization seemed to hit him.

“Those antlers are real.” “Yes, they are.” “That…tail, too?” “Yes.” “And the ears?” You twitched them in response, giving Shane a bright, albeit tired smile. “All real.” “And you…why are you…” “You see,” you smiled bells jingling their soft tune as you approached him, “I’ve heard you say humbug one time too many, and decided to give you a little holiday spirit.” Shane’s brow furrowed again, his mouth opening again to respond- “Nu-uh. You can’t deny this, I am real, and it’s not exactly normal to fuck a hybrid in the forest around the holidays, is it?” At that, his mouth snapped shut, making you giggle and pat his chest. “There, there. This was a fun little present, after all, wasn’t it?” Shane swallowed the knot in his throat as your cold hand touched his cheek. “And I know you have it in you.” “What else do you fuckin’ think ya know?” “That you just gave me the best fuck of my life.” His jaw clicked as he snapped it shut again, making you giggle again. You picked up the axe that Shane had oh so carelessly dropped before, placing it in his hands. “Do I need to- uh. Bring you somewhere?” A laugh left your lips, bright as a bell and as warm as a cozy fireplace. “No, Shane. I have found you with ease, and I will find home with even more ease. Don’t you worry.” “And…uh- will I see you again?” he couldn’t believe he was asking this- “That depends.” “On what?” “If you are on the naughty or nice list.” You gave him a smile; a sweet kiss being placed on his scruffy cheek.

Shane was left stunned as he heard the snow crunch under your boots, crunch, crunch, crunch. He watched after you, legs denying their services – it was like he was frozen to the ground. Shane blinked to let his eyes adjust better, but when he opened them again, you were gone. The fuck? There was no way you could have vanished so quickly! He dropped the axe again, quick steps through snow following the footsteps that you had left behind, just for them to…slowly disappear. 

Shane was left standing in the forest, with no trace of you left behind. Had he just dreamed all of this? Pussy-starved, holiday-hating brain coming up with a dirty fantasy while he tried to cut down a tree? Was he going fucking crazy? He rubbed over his head, pressed his fingers against his eyelid. Maybe he hadn’t gotten enough sleep the past few days? But why the fucking hell did he feel that cozy sleepiness he always felt after an orgasm? He looked into the direction he had seen you go in once more before slowly returning to his axe. Walked to the tree he had held you against, but there was nothing but his own footprints. Fuck, had he been manic or some shit? He swallowed thickly, running his fingers over the tree bark where he had been pretty sure your slender fingers had found support. Shit, he was going crazy. He decided it was time to fetch the axe and go home, sleep it off. But as he walked, he heard a sound. Soft and all clear. Warm and bright. It reminded him of something, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He took another step forward, just to hear the gentle sound again. His hands automatically reached in his pocket, just for his fingers to wrap around something smooth and cold. He pulled his hand back, opening it to find a bell resting in the palm of his hand, still cool from the night air, reflecting whatever little moonlight had fought its way through the trees. He shook it gently, eliciting a soft jingle tingle jingle, making a smile appear on his lips. Well, he guessed there was a reason to get on the nice list now. Or at least the nicer list. While Shane made his way home, the “perfect” tree was resting on the sleigh, and the old grump even hummed a light and soft song – “Jingle Bells”.

[alialioxenfreeee]

Despite us only seeing him for a short time, we very much got the impression that this guy has seen and been through and done a LOT.

From the scars all over his ingame model, the level of experience and age in how he speaks to us and from fighting him twice, we get a wonderful snapshot of his life and his experiences. Hell, the entire contest is us just retracing his steps.

I would mercilessly kill for a single crumb more of Gulool Ja Ja lore or content because I love him so damn much, but I’m so happy with what we did get.

I’ve seen people comment on how he’s almost an older Warrior of Light, which I adore. I like to think it gives our characters hope that through all the trials and hells and losses we’ve been through, that if we come out of it with half of what the big guy’s got by the end, then we’d have done all right.

I would have loved to see more snippets of when Reason was still alive. I can imagine their banter together, given how Resolve is and it’s delightful.

A DT spoiler musing under the cut!:

Gulool Ja Ja is by far one of my favourite characters in this expansion. But he’s so wonderfully sad in his writing and it’s never fully touched upon.

Prior to the events of the MSQ, his brother had been dead for three years. Imagine living for so long together, doing everything together (quite literally) and then having to carry around your brother’s dead half, a constant reminder that you’re alone?

There’s a moment during the duel with him where he goes to do a very powerful attack, that’s stated later that only a Blessed working together in unison can do, but turns his head towards the covered head and goes “oh, right.” As if he’d forgotten his brother wasn’t there anymore, and has to change his strategy.

How for three years he never told anyone about it. Sure, his children had guessed but apparently they’d never even spoken about it??

Gulool Ja Ja quite literally gave up all of himself for his country and his family. He was such an easily loveable character and I’m really sad we didn’t get more with him.

[noncrush]

☀︎☁︎ — MILES MILLER: druxy

(“It's winter. You ask me about love and I tell you about violence. I'm sorry. I thought that that's what love was.” — Katie Maria, ‘I used to be a hole in the ground’.)

miles miller x reader | 8k | mentions of death&guns, angst, fluff, yearning, very introspective, lots of backstory, MDNI 18+.

⤷ desc. when you get hired at the el royale, you don’t imagine you’ll be staying there long. you don’t imagine you’ll find the love of your life, either. as it turns out, you’re wrong two for two.

here is my submission for “quiet winter nights” with miles miller in @lewmagoo’s wonderful holiday celebration!!! enjoy this monster (that i blacked out for most of! this is perhaps not the best prompt fulfillment lol) tis the season of yearning everybody :)

Druxy — (adj.) something whole on the outside, but rotten inside; of timber, having decay in the heartwood.

i.

Working at the El Royale used to be easy. When you were still starry-eyed and bright, not yet overtaken by the suffocating, roiling waves of that horrid hotel.

“This job is just a stepping stone, that’s all,” you’d told Miles after your first rough week. He eyed you wearily then, knowing the grim unreality of those words—he’d done the very same, just happy to have a job at all after discharge… before quickly succumbing, a noxious fate he wouldn’t wish on a single soul. But he couldn’t warn you either, not when you started on the Californian bar: forced to deliver rounds of bronze booze and burnt sienna spirits with your piercing steel shaker until the end of the night. There were so many things Miles lost the chance to say, and later he’ll tell you he hates himself for it; later, you’ll hold him close and tell him you could never hate him for it.

You used to pray that promise beneath your breath, just a stepping stone, while staring up at the swelling water damage of your popcorn ceiling. It was a kind of foreshadowing in the tapestry of your life, telling you the longer you worked the harder it’d be to keep your head wading above water. Those early days at the hotel had you reluctantly settling into a seedy dingbat shoebox a few blocks away, the dip of your chin already beginning to sink into high tide. It’s odd to think of that part of your life in retrospect when you were first starting at the El Royale living all by your lonesome-- familiar head of tawny chestnut locks not yet lying beside your own at night. 

That hopeful, almost manifest, mantra was repeated again and again: in quiet hallways, collecting the pieces of your shattered morale off the wooden epoxy bar top, after a customer yelled at you for giving him too little ice. In a dank backroom corridor, after you caught Miles stumbling around with a heavy Vidicon tripod.

“What do you actually do here?” 

“I… I can’t tell you. N-not before you’ve been here for longer than a year. It’s standard procedure, and- and Management doesn’t trust part-timers.” 

Panicked circles paced into the carpet at your discovery, his burdened shoulders growing ever heavier; some sudden shimmer of pity overtaking your words, “Miles-- Miles, it's okay. Just a stepping stone, remember? You… don’t need to tell me, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

After you parsed Miles' calendar at the clerk's desk and caught a glimpse of the date. The frustrated heel of your palm digging into the nasal bone: “It’s November, Miles, it’s been-- god, this was supposed to be a stepping stone, something temporary…” Suddenly realizing your life still hasn’t picked up the slack; stranded, your job inquiries left unreplied, buried beneath the unsavoury status of your currentemployment. 

“I have an address. I-- have an entire year's worth of paystubs. I have everything they could possibly ask for.”

“Did--did you tell them you worked here? B’cause… the El Royale’s been losing its prestige day by day, and—Management’s sayin’ we’re lucky we still get our cheques.”

Finally, letting “just a stepping stone” die on your tongue when rent was jacked up, and the thin string of normalcy in your life went frayed. You made little as a bartender at an understaffed hotel, just enough to pay the current rate, and the increase would quickly make your wallet grow ugly and barren. Suddenly, you had found yourself forced to choose between the hotel or your apartment block’s curb; meagre belongings packed up and trailing behind, head growing dizzy with smothering waves of shame clawing up your throat. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to ask, but I--“ Shoulders wilt. Head hung low. The hotel lobby light flickers above you; once, twice, a spark cinders. “I have nowhere to go.”

His mouth, slightly ajar. What could crawl out of there, you wonder: a laugh, an apology, an insult? “California is full, and- er, Nevada’s under renovation.” 

A rejection. Beads of sweat trickled down your trembling spine. Heart sinking into the pit of your stomach; nowhere to go, nowhere to be, nowhere to exist—

“B-but I have a room. In the back. If… if y’don’t mind sharing.” 

Kindness, in a place as consuming as this. You thought every dreg of it had long since been digested, surrendering to the dreary structure of the ogee pattern walls. The fact it existed in the heart of Miles, however minuscule, made your own flicker with light. Hope stirring, unafraid despite how brutally it was beaten down; it was always so stubborn, ceaseless, almost Sisyphean.

However, uncovering Miles’ poor living conditions while shuffling into that one untouched room in the entire hotel made your lips pull into a tight line. You were left completely aghast, as you realized he had not simply been leaving early before you could say goodbye, but had been ducking behind doors and slinking into his closet home. Esteem quickly overtook you: for that shy man, who was awkward, but just as well sensitive, gentle and compassionate to the very bone. Who offered his room up for you, sacrificing a part of his life for the hundredth time without remorse, because it was kind. 

You lay elbow to elbow with Miles that first night, not looking at each other but just speaking, letting the low timbre of tones fill the air. A figurative ball dance: persuading information out of one another and testing the boundaries–akin only to seeing how low you’d let him drag his palm against your back in that imaginary hall, how tight to ischemia he’d let your hand squeeze his own. 

Him, warning you of the worst aspects of the job; giving you an out, because taping others in the privacy of their rooms weighed like lead. “It’s a sinful thing,” said Miles, the words mumbled and scraped off the backs of his teeth, stuck to the enamel like taffy shame. “To reveal other people like this, even if they’re helpless. Even when my meddlin’ realizes the worst consequences.” Consumed with fear his soul would only grow darker by tainting your own. “Those tapes… those tapes are never pretty. Sometimes they’re downright… ugly.”

You, knowing for a fact it was dirty and invasive— but also that you were really very small and very poor, a wretch whose dreams would be out of reach for eternity. A wide-eyed housekeep and a listless bartender having to band together to maintain the El Royale’s realm of order after the other staff left sounded like the beginning of a bad joke. However, choice was a privilege you no longer possessed–you were there entirely out of necessity: “Who else will hire me? Certainly nobody in this town, nor the next one over.”

Two sets of drooping eyes drifting across his clean ceiling, so unlike the swelling, waterlogged one back in your apartment. There's something here, you thought then,��something to be said about having an odd heart-to-heart with the man you’ve had less than five full conversations with in an entire year. All the while feeling an odd comfort at the faint cracks littering his ceiling tiles—like pockmarks had existed, once upon a time, but were cared for and repaired with a familiar gentle precision.

Alas, duty continued, and Management swiftly utilized you—now trusted, for you were thought to be living and breathing the El Royale just as Miles did. But being implicated in the true nature of the hotel's existence, via the increase of sordid dignitaries — fortuitous in their decision to stay at the hotel, but brusque and oddly knowing in such a way you knew the El Royales’ name was being recommended in dangerous places — made the job so very hard. You became thoroughly equipped with the all-consuming fear you could spend another lifetime being good, scrubbing yourself clean of the hotel, and still have your fingers stomped on trying to reach the pearly gates. 

As though you could spend mere hours in there and come out thinking a decade had gone by, time in that decrepit hotel served as a mere suggestion. Perhaps, that’s why moving into the hotel seemed to make so much time alone with Miles. It seemed more impossible for a connection not to foster: that quiet night sent your relationship journeying from an acquaintance, to coworker, to dear friend. Shyly circling one another’s empty orbits before growing inseparable. A lifetime of affinity condensed into years, compacted by common sin and mutual memory. A bond that grew ever proximate, stunned by having someone just like you, right there—just as tormented, just as unfulfilled. 

A friendship of comforting one another in the dark: Miles tenderly coaxing you out like a feral animal unused to attention that didn’t quickly follow with a beating, or your attentive fingers gently working the self-imposed restraint out of his muscles, unthreading traumatic memories from beneath his skin. (“You don’t have to say sorry, Miles—I know you don’t have a mean bone in your body.” “Shh, shh, just listen to the sound of my voice. The thunderstorm’s din has nothing on me.” “When you have a nightmare, tell me—I don’t mind, promise.”) Understanding the fear that gripped you at the sensitive scruff, why you woke up floundering beside him in the middle of the night like the weight of your unfulfilled life was pressing itself on the nape of your neck. Uncovering Miles' extent, and what set him off—what made him dig his fingernails into the bed of his palm or bite his sharp canine into his lower lip. Settling your head onto Miles’ left pillow at bed— your pillow, finding that you knew his heart betterthan your own. Fondly remembering the time spent winding the words out of him until your palm recognized him like it did scars marring your skin. 

Naturally, you grew protective of him. How Miles’ remained so tender is a mystery – it felt impossible to live there for so long and not come out the other end worse off; chewed up, spat out, torn into two and put back together all wrong – but that very kindness had invited you into his home, and you worked to protect it like nothing else. Only ever manning the bar when the need was immediate, more content to linger close behind Miles when he checked in customers. Learning to bare your teeth, going from, “My complete apologies for any offence I’ve caused,” to “The El Royale provides poor patience toward guests who threaten the welfare of our establishment.” 

Slowly, the thought bleeding through the air, you began to worry your love for Miles would die in this black hole. Extinguished in the very same place it was first lit, unable to survive the hotel’s suffocation. Nondescript was your relationship, blurred lines wavering between romantic and platonic at every turn—but love nonetheless. For days on end did a familiar chill wrack your spine: some primal, precognitive feeling of guilt, of dread, that something bad was going to happen and you would never be free of it. How your ears pounded, blood rushing because it felt like if you didn’t leave now you’d rot in that hotel’s hollow, refrained to the point of murder or madness. 

You desperately tried to quell that feeling, chalking it up to years spent with your guard up. Thought you’d merely turned spiked and jagged; rough around the edges, making others jerk away at the gentlest touch. The way a Venus flytrap withers and dies, because nobody is brave enough to care for something so biting. Several severe years turned you into the serrated rim of a broken carafe glass—like the chipped Blendo one Miles kept in his room for safekeeping, after you sold off all the other expensive china just to keep the hotel lights on for another exhausting day. Just… paranoid, your fear of losing Miles — and being completely alone again as a result — merely growing insistent and anxious. 

But the last straw was in December of ‘68; a frigid winter, practically turning the hotel subnivean with its wet and heavy blizzards; snowing the place in deep. A night at the El Royale and a quiet night in general, the kind with long, exhaustive hours– a shift that never seemed to end, despite the small number of customers (a group of skiers on the Nevadan side and a family on the Californian) before finally resigning away from the clerk desk at a bleak four in the morning. You’d long since shooed Miles off, “You first, or I’ll take all the blankets in my sleep,” content to man the place on his behalf. He’d gone so long without support, persevering through fatigue and illness with no choice, it was the least you could do,--and you would always rather he woke up with light eyebags. 

You were locking up, stashing the bell in the desk cavity with your neck craned low—when you felt the trained gaze of another over you. You pressed back up to meet eyes with a customer, his horn-rimmed glasses decorated with slow melting flurries: “If you would be so kind to check me out for a back-cabin along tha’ trails, that’d just about make my night, kid.”

“Unfortunately, sir, the bungalows are unserviced and unavailable in the off-season. Our frontward facing lodges, however, are wholly available—“

“You mean to tell me they’re off limits? Why, I jus’ saw someone leavin’ one of those cabins.”

A shiver traipsed down the column of your vertebrae. No door was open to let in a draft, and no winter winds hit your form; it was pure intuition making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. The week before last, Management thrust a sudden assignment onto you two— Nevada room 7, tenured professor travelling across state lines for a conference, democratic and incredibly vocal about it— and Miles’ was supposed to develop the tape yesterday, mail it off this morning. But Miles didn’t develop the tape yesterday, no, there’d been a burst pipe in the casino bar instead, and the two of you spent lunch till early dawn fixing it. 

The man shot you a discomfiting smile. Stretched wide across his plain, glib face. “Say,” and he leaned in just as your heel planted you an inch back, gesturing to the photographs of celebrities strewn around, “September ‘63. Sinatra owned this place, and let politicians mingle with Hollywood’s leading ladies. You know anythin’ ‘bout that?”

Anxiety dragged upon your skin. Where was he going with this? “I didn’t-- work here in 1963, sir. Suffice to say I didn’t know much at all about the comings and goings of the El Royale yet.”

He studied carefully; mandible still tilted into that barren smile, but eyes set and stony behind the thin frame of glasses you weren’t even sure were real. The customer set his suitcase down with one hand and his briefcase down with the other, before patting down the wrinkled fabric of his suit—intentionally, or unintentionally, flashing the hilt of a Black Eagle Ruger slung low on a belt holster. It wasn’t uncommon for customers to be sporting some kind of self-defence, especially in dark hotels such as these–but still.  “Your associate, then?” 

“What?” Your blood ran cold, freezing into thin slivers like icicles hanging from the roof outside; like the one that pricked you in the shoulder, and made Miles aid and soothe the wound. 

Miles entered through the front door of the lobby, hair silken with powder-soft snow, murmuring to himself as he dragged his work-issue loafers in. The man jutted his thumb unceremoniously toward him, a calculating sheen lighting his green eyes. 

“Hey, you—“ and he waved Miles over like he were cattle or a dog, “d’you remember any blonde Hollywood Ingenue’s rooming here in September ‘63? You’d know her—hell, she’d have you stumblin’ over so bad you couldn’t just forget her.”

The look on Miles’ face — wide-eyed and perturbed, tired steps creaking to a stuttered stop at the digestion of the man’s words — made the pit of your gut swelter: how cruel to make him flounder, for Miles was skittish. You’d learned to slow your movements and keep steady to ease him, but this would surely frighten him. “Sir? I-I don’t know what you’re…”

You swallowed thickly. “He didn’t— he didn’t work here yet either. Alright? I mean, look at him—he’d barely be out of school.”

The customer’s stubborn smile dropped into thin-lipped obscurity. “Well, it was wortha’ try. Made a bet with some of my buds who heard I was stayin’ here– those sonsabitches thought some kinda tape existed.” He regarded you suddenly with a plain look: acknowledging, bored, seeking your professionalism rather than your conversation.

His look sobered you, making the tremouring buzz of your thoughts (get miles get out of here something bad is going to happen) go quiet. You snapped back into smooth, managerial tones, swiftly checking the man in and handing him the logbook. He hoisted his luggage and left just as suddenly as he’d arrived, leaving you in possession of one odd Laramie Seymour Sullivan signature in cursive. There was something… off about that salesman—be it the thin, almost prescription-less distortion of his lenses, or his odd accented twang of no particular origin—and you hoped his stay in the Nevada room was short-lived.

“Miles?” your gaze snapped up from the logbook you were inspecting to find Miles gone. Fortunately, not out into the thick pillowy avenues of snow from which he came, but forwards: his thin loafers tracking wet stains onto the floor. You set a mental reminder to mop that melt before morning, but Miles’ panic took precedence. He had the habit of scampering away in the face of danger, like a rabbit through dry autumn leaves–and you would never let him deal with it alone.

Finally, you traced your dear friend's prints to the maintenance room you shared; slightly ajar, warm lamp light filling the room, his soaked shoes haphazardly strewn by the doorway. There, you saw him crumpled upon the threadbare cot: on his knees lying down, almost in prayer with his silver rosary wrapped tight around the dry skin of his knuckles. It shone like the glimmer of the sun under that incandescent bulb, and you could hear a panicked recital of scripture along his tongue.

“Hey, hey,” you slide past the door gently, descending onto all fours so as not to box him in or raise the height of his fight-or-flight response. “C’mere, hold my hand,” you crawled over and laced his free fingers into yours, settling into a criss-cross apple-sauce position; knee bumping into the ankle that never healed right after he sprained it gardening last summer.

“Just listen to my voice, okay? Remember what we were doing last winter? Remember when every customer had left two evenings before to make it home in time for Christmas? We were sitting here, reading a book together. You told me the print company made a mistake after you saw a thread pop out of the inner hinge’s book bind. I was massaging your crown, then… I miss your long hair sometimes. The radio was playing, too–an auditory rerun of that musical you like so much. “A Christmas Carol” for "Shower of Stars", was it…”

You were fully equipped to spend the rest of the night coaxing Miles’ out of his panic, soothing tones drowning out the tantamount alarm running circles in his mind–but then, he lifted his head from the clothed caps of his knees and brought your intertwined fingers up to his warm cheek. “That man.. the-the- tape, he was talking about a ta-tape with- with…”

Your hand squeezed his in time with the patterned buzz of his pulse, pressed along your own wrist; thump-squeeze, thump-thump-squeeze… “It’s just you and me, Miles. Take your time.”

A shaky breath. Then another; better, easier. “The tape he’s talking about. It’s, it-t’s real. B-but nobody was ever-- supposed’t know it exists-- how did he know about it, how?”

“Miles… a tape? He knows about what you sent to management?”

“No, no, I never sent it! I never did, I kept it… I kept it because he was kind, and-- and…” And Miles is letting go of your palm, instead wrapping his lanky arms around the circumference of your waist, collapsing in your lap. He’s murmuring still, mere vibrations lost to the human capacity of Hertz, as your mind spun: once upon a time, Miles confessed to you a certain 60s starlet coupled up in Nevada 5 with one of the most influential and married politicians of that decade, before their deaths in– 

That was the tape?

Your heart hammered in your ears. Miles’ sobs simmered down into stammering breaths; his ever-softening palms gripping the fabric of your shirt between his fingers in some sort of self-soothing measure. Has your heart swapped with your brain? Is that why you’re so suddenly remembering how cruel it'd been for Miles: how he’d been at the El Royale so much longer than you, been beaten down so much smaller, was much closer to the edge? That Miles was crumpling atop you now with the rumblings of great, inescapable despair because the weight of these corrupt secrets was toppling him over?

It was then that you pet him, the man your heart swelled far past capacity for, fingernails tracing over the splattering of freckles along his neck–and then, that your survival instincts overtook.

“Miles, Miles, it’s okay. Don’t say sorry, s’not a problem. We can… well, we can… leave. Take the tape with us; burn it, destroy it, whatever you want. But we leave.” Deciding at last that enough was enough because you could either leave now or suffocate in silence forevermore. Curl into yourselves, like far neglected flora, until one of you dies and the other quickly follows.

In the hours before dawn, you’d suddenly pieced together a jilted, desperate plan of escape. You’d head an innocuous journey from the El Royale to Reno, wandering eccentrically so as not to leave a tangible trail. In that tawdry tourist town, you’d gather yourselves and map another path out again: to a smaller, quieter place, like Waterford, or Dunsmuir, where you could build yourselves a life anew. It would be hard, and frightening, and cold, and unkind—but above all it would be worth it.

Above all, this chapter would draw a close, and you could have the rest of the pages in your life to be selfish. The thought made your stomach flutter and clench with the foggiest of dreams, fluffy fox-tailed feelings beginning to run through the dim corridors of your heart: ideas of being free, of coming into your own, of maintaining a gentle realm together without the enduring pressure of the hotel. Of being able to sleep in and graze over the bony ridges of Miles' spine like you were allowed to—like you were supposed to, and would never be struck down for it.

That glassy night in late December of ‘68 was your final one in the hotel. You barely remember it: just the important stuff, the why and the how and the coaxing of two lonely souls who occupied the El Royale like ghosts from out of the shadows. You can’t remember the few days after very well either, not with the fear still so deeply imprinted on your souls– and certainly not with the anxious hush that fell over you: a silly vow of silence, to keep yourselves from revealing too much to potentially dangerous strangers. Words were chalk in the mouth then; you barely got them out before you were coughing, gasping, heaving for soothed breath-- then quieting, swallowing, holding back your voice in the crevice of your cords.

You did, however, remember the generous days that came after the fleeing and the hiding… and, understandably so: why allow your memory to remain preoccupied with the same dread you’d digested for years when you could keep space for the rest of your life to arrive? 

You sat atop that beat mattress in Miles’ drab room with him in your arms, halfway through dreaming up the rest of your life away from the hotel… and soon, sooner than you could’ve ever thought, you blinked and opened your eyes to find yourself living that merciful existence. Like the colour television channels Miles’ would always call you over to watch: you got a sparse glimpse once a year, the kind of magic you always swore you’d catch up to, but were always so busy with the bar (and the gardening and the kitchen and the–) to see. The hotel had the all-consuming quality to draw you away from any fulfilling aspects of life: friends, a better career, happiness, and like some sick inside joke, colour television.

Now, you were living the sweet life NTSC colour system shows portrayed—and were able to watch colour television whenever your heart damn well pleased. 

No longer did you let the days twist and swell around you without recognition, no– you allowed yourself the selfish possibility of listening to the day's whistle by, drinking in every peaking pitch: the dull flutter of Miles’ steps along your oak floor, your kitchen laminate, your soft bathroom rugs. The wispy rustle of crinkled grocery lists, checking through them in your kitchen on an early Sunday—shopping right when the supermarket opened, because the both of you cringed at the sight of busy aisles and overworked lanes. (The raspy, sniffled laughter of the elderly lady who ran the store, remarking, “Still in the honeymoon phase, huh?” as she checked you out. The squeak in Miles’ throat when you played along, pressing a peck to his cheek in mock confirmation.)

The stream of water from the creaky yard hose, sometimes pressurized to the point of injuring Miles’ poor petunias, and other times so frail you had to lug out his otter-shaped turret sprinkler to keep them healthy instead. The howling wind against your house walls on autumn nights, bouncing along the window sills as though ghosts roamed your halls. (Having to build a fort in the living room with Miles, after a “ghost” had spooked him on his nightly tread for a glass of water. He refused to brave the hallway to your bedroom again, and you refused to leave him there.)

The gentle snip-snap of scissors along Miles’ delicate head, telling him, “I’m not going as short as last time, even if you ask me to, ‘cause you’ll get cold and snag my earmuffs again.”  The sleepy purr of Miles’ in the morning, wrapping a lithe arm around your waist and greedily tugging you back to bed; grown spoiled with the days that go by so sweetly, used to having you all to himself. 

Drinking in these little moments, appreciating the mundanity of it all. How you simper, when doing laundry with Miles, sorting whites from colours as you regale him on the time you mixed in a blue sock by accident; is that why my button-up turned blue? When gardening side by side in the spring, Miles cooing to perennial flora as he packs down healthy fertilizer nearby; grazing a gentle finger over an unfurling petal and promising, you’ll grow up nice and strong when m’done with you. When sitting on the counter and watching Miles bustle about, trying to perfect his Tunnel of Fudge in time for the holidays and handing you the battered whisk; honey, you know I don’t care that there’s raw egg. 

Going through the motions of this post-hotel life, practically epilogic, with the relationship’s lines of platonic and romantic ever wavering. Ever thinning. Warbled by the merciful existences you reap: why focus on the status of your relationship when you could focus on the love itself, focus on your now-uninhibited freedom to love? 

But a rubber band snaps eventually. The lack of labels stretched wide and narrow around your intimate forms; never relieved, never named—never agreed upon, therefore just as well never reciprocated. Years after the hotel faded into a mere memory, just a faint speckle among the colourful mosaic of your existence, you wake with a pit drowning in your gut. Love burns in the bottom of your belly: no longer that comfortable love that rested so sweetly in the smiling swell of your cheeks, but more so a love that swallowed you whole—sudden, voracious, terrifying. You loved Miles, and you had for years… but just now did you realize you were in love with him. 

The distinction makes your heart hammer against its cage, starving for any kind of answer. The two of you never acknowledged it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there—it was always there, always lingering, providing the very allowance to be so intimate, be so loving. You’ve slept in one another’s bed for more than half a decade, for Christ's sake: tenderness is all you’ve ever known of each other. A deathly nerve deep within your gut strikes, begging for either reciprocation or rejection, not this limbo you’ve been living in. Imploring a tangible answer, an exacting label you can build the rest of your life upon.

Because the thought of staying trapped like this forever? Never fully friends and never fully lovers? That mortified you. It could all fall between the gaps of your fingers, even after decades, because none of it had ever been said aloud. 

The realization of being in love, and not just loving was kept under tightly wound wraps as best as you could. But Miles notices the little things over time: how you draw away easier, hugs growing brisk and polite rather than long and hearty. The tension in your shoulders, and how you no longer accept his tender offers to massage familiar knots out—even when you both know he can map out your problem areas just like that. Brushing off touchier advances, resolve greatly disturbed by Miles’ ever-constant need to hold hands, cling to your hip, hang onto you at all. He’s funny about that kind of thing: somewhere along the way, between the farm he grew up on, Vietnam, and the El Royale, to now, he picked up the miraculous ability to tune into moods at the drop of a hat. 

It gets worse as the week goes on, however. Not that you’d been very inconspicuous about your gloom—you sat up the fourth day quietly strained, trudging to the bathroom like a wet t-shirt that’d been wrung out and hung to dry in all the wrong ways. Misshapen, wrinkled, too burdened for the clothesline to hold up; the briefest of winter winds trickles past the window Miles forgot to close last night, and makes you shiver as you step in. But he doesn’t get the chance to intervene, not when you were heading off to work (there were so many things Miles lost the chance to say, and later he’ll tell you he hates himself for it–), and the two of you only see each other again when you’re back home. 

His first instinct when he sees you, mumbling your arrival in the frostbitten doorway, is to take your coat and set it on the wooden hanger; shuffle your fur-lined boots onto the shoe rack beside his own tassel loafers; dust the flurries off your clothes. Clean and take care of you, because that’s what he knows best. You half expect him to extend his arm out and point down either side of the hall, “Warmth and sunshine to the west, or hope and opportunity to the east,” on the tip of his tongue.

“Hi,” mumbles Miles, lip quivering as some semblance of a nervous smile inches across his face. “Um, welcome home.” 

That man is far too sweet for his own good. His greeting is the product of an offhand comment all those years ago, “It’s always the sweetest thing when the husband comes home and his wife welcomes him back.” Winter nights in the hotel when there were so few customers, management would skimp on paying the bills, and you’d huddle chest to chest with Miles to conserve heat. Breath visible, palms splayed beneath one another’s shirts to extinguish the chill racking through you. A random channel on his old RCA Victor Sportable playing a Brigitte Bardot special, if just to distract yourself from the very real, very harrowing possibility that you could fall asleep and never wake up.

“Miles,” out comes a dull whisper, scratchy and unreal in your own throat. You’ve tried all week to make a habit out of biting back too-sweet words, letting your blatant adoration die in your lungs. Speaking to him should be an activity gone stale, lest you forget yourself and allow you two to fall back headfirst into that exhausting will-they-won’t-they purgatory. 

But then you notice his clothes–an old cream cable knit and dress trousers, his Sunday best for weekly visits and the obligatory holiday ones–and his hair, neatly coiffed along the smooth crown of his head. You raise a brow–it’s incredibly unlike the pajamas and chestnut bedhead he usually sports; mussed and ruffled with the telltale stylistic edge of blankets and cotton pillowcases. Had he gone out, or is he going out now? 

That thought makes your heart thump and clench in its cavity: of Miles being swept off his feet by someone other than yourself and having to accept it with a choked nod, because you’re dancing around asking him “What are we?”, in paralyzing fear that you are the only one truly head over heels. You resign yourself to asking, “Going somewhere?” whilst gesturing to his unusually formal state of dress.

His rounded cheeks flush. Cobalts widen in tune with the sandy brows along his forehead rising. Your gaze hasn’t made it there yet, but you can bet his lips have slid ajar into a tiny “O” shape-- and there it is. His delicate expression of surprise is the same as it has been for years (and you fear how easily you predict it. You know him too well, and it’s never the one who knows another too well whose heart remains unbroken. But then again: between Miles’ delicate heart and your own… you’d rather you devastated.)

“Yes, well-- I’m going out with someone.”

“You’re going on a—“ How interesting. “…O-kay.”

Your offset okay has the tips of Miles’ lips twinging upward into a tiny, knowing smile. Smug, almost, if you pretended it wasn’t how Miles simply looked when content. It makes you frown instead. “Oh,” you mumbled, wincing as you brushed past him, hearing just how monotone; crestfallen; stupid you sounded. “Have fun, then.”

Your own cheeks burn, your harried footsteps clattering against hallway hickory wood: he was taking someone out? Miles’ had been venturing out on his own more often — your heart preened prideful praise at this, as he’d downright avoided public outings like the plague since his discharge all those years ago — so you knew it wasn’t at all unlikely he’d caught someone’s wandering eye. Miles was rather handsome, too (even downright pretty, which he rarely let you say aloud, since it made steam practically fume out of his ears) with the gentle brush of his blond lashes, framing the brilliant sheen of blue eyes, and that captivating curve of his nose, sloping high and elegant. 

But for however proud you were, the hurt still made your throat swell in its tender column. Suddenly, you realize it’s never going to be you who accompanies Miles in that way: because you are slow and cowardly. You are the decay that would make Miles’ heartwood go druxy– and for his sake, it cannot be you that accompanies him. Like understanding a language but never being taught to speak it, you can spot love easily even when it’s unspoken and barely there, but you cannot replicate it aloud. I love you is an unintelligible language twisted wryly on your tongue; you miss accents and mess up grammar, and before you know it those words as old as myth have gone sour. 

You’ll hurt him worse than rejection hurts you. But rejection, any kind of it, is still a quiet, burning thing that overtakes you like the wash of high tide. Digging its claws into the rapid flesh of your palpitating heart, you can’t help but desperately seek isolation. The balls of your feet practically jump over the threshold where the hall and your shared room meet… but he’s quick to follow.

Miles’ sock-swaddled thumping is slow at first, before speeding up and careening to a stop at the door of the bedroom. His fingers (originally rough with domestic work but grown soft in the simple life you’ve built around each other) cling shyly to the side jamb: “Are…” and his words warble at a pitchy high, like they’re curling around a pitiful lump balling up in his throat, “are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” your reassurance is fast, uttered quicker than you can think or blink or even turn. But because your back still faces him, he asks again, are you mad at me? Murmurs, I’m sorry, a moment later, polyester-padded steps inching over the sill. Miles continues closer, appearing in the background of your mirror while you shed your outside clothes off; practically undergoing chrysalis into your pyjamas.

His words are childish, almost, and you have half a mind to shoo him out of the room for privacy–but you know Miles. Though his words are uttered gingerly, the nervous apology of a scolded child, he isn’t any less desperate, any less earnest; he’s genuine, and that genuinity has no bounds. 

The bed creaks behind you, and your mind buries the consuming temptation to look. Desire calls out your name, supplying imaginary images of cranberry Christmas sheets straining beneath Miles’ pretty, slow crawl. And the apology is part way through stumbling out of Miles’ mouth yet again when you finally turn to meet him: slim torso folded along the long edge of the bed, knees planted on the hardwood. Looking up at you with an impossible expression that pleads, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Are you mad at me? Please. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m– 

His sweet head buries itself into the clothed cushion, and you can hear him sniffle; holding back a worried sob, are you mad at me? filling the ridges of his tongue. It’s so hard to seek solitude, to want to soothe yourself at all, when Miles is falling apart in front of you; fingers curling possessively into the sheets like he usually would your clothes. 

The tear that escapes the corner of Miles' eye dribbles into your bed. It makes your obstinacy waver. And then, you’re descending onto the bed too, scooping his weeping form into your arms, gently soothing him with shapes drawn into his cheek. Coaxing the tears away with a low hum cooed into the shell of his ear, shh, shh. M’not mad, just surprised. Just tired. 

Cries that finally dwindle into stuttered sniffles and tiny pecks along your inner wrist. The drag of his bottom lip on the ulna bone makes a ribbon of warmth run through you, and you cringe—you should be normal about this kind of thing because he’s perpetually starved for touch. This intimacy is nothing special, and you just happen to always be there. But it starts to feel less than normal: kisses growing hungry and adventurous, desperate to litter your skin with his presence… eventually reaching up to the top of your shoulder, just so gaining the confidence to sink his canines into your skin…

“Miles!” You yelp, squeezing at the nape of his neck and peeling his rebellious teeth from your side like you would a puppy. You bring him face to face, grip sliding to the mandible; his eyes half-lidded, lips wet with a doggish, slobbery sheen of saliva, brows knitted tensely in the middle. You meant to comfort him, rid the alarm from muscles that held memory so tightly. Instead, an entirely different neediness is roused out of him: he’s crawled halfway up your body, rigid knees subconsciously brushing between your thighs, pressing you to the mattress with the thick weight of his utterly relaxed lower body. 

He begins to slowly blink, as if coming out of a feverish daze, going ever-scarlet in realization. “Sorry, I– didn’t mean to…ah, just missed you so much, that’s all—” squirming to hide and bury his face into the pillows again, whining when you stop him with another squeeze of his cherubic cheeks.  

“What,” You’re breathless, and you reckon your pulse is beating as fast as Miles' is beneath your fingertips: rapid, floundering, like a marathon has been run four times over. “What was that, sweetheart?”

The nickname makes Miles shiver atop you; his head swivelling low to rest upon you, his everything pinning you down. Your huff of gentle (confused, frustrated, coy) air breezes along his brow bone, and he looks up to peer puppyish up at you. 

“Wanted to make you feel better,” he supplies, head tilting to rest the side of his face upon your skin too. “You-- you've been t-tense—and don’t lie, I can tell. So, so I was tryin’ to ask you on a date in the doorway… but then y-you stormed off on me! I thought you— I thought, maybe you don’t want thatkinda relief, so… so…”

“Oh, Miles.” you melt, hand cradling his face gently, thumb brushing against his lower lip, crooking the bed of your palm closer when he turns in to provide a chaste kiss. “I… didn’t realize you were trying to ask me on a date,” and your gaze darts away shyly, voice dropping to a ginger murmur, “in all honesty, I thought you were going out on one.”

“Me?” he asks, head tilting again in pure confusion. Cobalt blue eyes glistening with a disbelieving curiosity–like he couldn’t entertain the prospect logically in his mind long enough for it to make sense. “Who would I be going on a date with but you?”

Who would he be going on a date with but you? 

The silence of the room rings swirls in the junction of your ear. You think you hear a pin drop, but it might very well be your heart; trudging up the shaky interior of your ribcage, softly parsing through the meaning of his words… and finding it to be completely genuine. No sarcasm, and nothing of rhetoric: a true, confused question, uttered from those gentle lips. Who would I be going on a date with but you?as if the very notion was impossible. Like you just told him you’d reached up and plucked the sun for his garden. Like you just said, I miss the hotel.

For some odd, unknown reason, that is what makes your heart roar to life again. Makes your stomach churn with the familiar achings of hope. Those simple words, that glaring confusion, twist your entireviewpoint. How blatantly he says it: that there's nobody on this planet Miles’ would rather be with but you. This may not be very clear right now, but the path to it is, and one thing remains certain: you’ll be loving each other, no matter which way.

A small laugh tumbles out of your mouth, transforming your solemn features into something of silly belief. How foolish were you to think otherwise? That this gentle man, who offered his tiny room to you all those years ago, would suddenly let you slip out from his fingers at the prospect of someone else? Just as there's never been anyone else for you, there's never been anyone else at all for him but you.

How slow your realization was, too: you had been shying from Miles for days, worrying deep in your gut that he’d eventually disappear at the drop of the hat. Whereas, he had been entertaining big dreams of spending the rest of his life curled into your corner; cheering you on for all the world to see. Completely understanding that nobody better could be found; could be loved, could be known than you. 

Your laugh seems to make Miles’ smile twitch up too, and you can’t help but snicker a little louder when you catch his murmur: what are we laughing about now? Because that’s the kind of man Miles is, and always has been: a gentle lover, but fiercely loyal, tender to the very bone; happy to ask the silly, stupid questions when you don’t want to. 

“Nothing,” you shush him, letting your cold, fresh-from-work feet dip beneath the edge of Miles’ soft trousers, toe trailing along his bare Achilles and making him wince. 

“Y’cold,” he whines but doesn’t push you away. Miles doesn’t think he could ever push you away; even through a bout of worrying, self-imposed distance that made panic rise in his heart this week, because Miles’ knows you better than that. You know one another far better than that—and one thing you taught him, bits and pieces of philosophical advice littered into your early conversations, rings true now. Never stop trying. You never stopped trying to fulfill yourself at that trepid, consuming hotel– and you came out the other side with the love of your life tucked gently into your side. So Miles learned never to stop trying for anything at all– and certainly not for you. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. But you’re not for very long, especially when he sidles up real close to you, ducking his head right into your Plender gap and breathing you in.

You don’t know where the years went, but love peeled the layers back from Miles so quickly: paring away his skittish demeanour from back then, when he’d been afraid to leave any mess at all, afraid to give into his mild intrigue of you, to even stir the air with the gentlest inhale of his breath. Continuing to unravel him, until he was the greedy man caging you in now, unabashedly needy and unafraid to stake claim on what’s his. Wanting you by his side has never changed, and never will. 

Slowly, the two of you shift, roll, twitch and tug until the sheets are furrowed, comforter wrapped oddly around your legs-- but also until you’re comfortably in one another's arms, foreheads grazing every time one of you breathes. It gives you the most explicit look of his face, into those cobalt blues, through the brush of lashes you so admiringly yawp about when he puts lotion on his face — to the point Miles has to shut the bathroom door on you in the bedroom, just to continue his bedtime routine without melting out into a stammering pile of goop — and of the faint dustings of freckles you noted all that time ago.

Barely noticing the window Miles’ has the terribly endearing habit of keeping open—even on this quiet winter night—because in the summer it coaxed you to sleep and you thanked him for it the next morning. Eyes resting as you focused on the comforting murmur of Miles’ familiar breathing pattern, wrapped in silence so thick it was almost palpable—making you two feel like the only real things in the entire world.

You may have thought your love was nondescript and barely there — imperceptible if not for the top notes of intimacy and adoration lingering on the pulse points of your skin like perfumed oil — but it’s always been noticeable. Always been rich and heady, forever dabbled on the dip of your neck where he lies his head; a fervent scent of pure love blooming, caught on the hem of yourself like you sprayed a pump too much. And nothing, not even Miles’ cries or your own misunderstanding, would ever change that. 

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink

Day 16: Hysteria (Medical Kink)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Medic decide to enjoy a little role play scenario.

Tags: Medical role play, toys, fingering, begging, overstimulation, biting, aftercare

Word Count: 3.2k

The Masterlist

Medic paced in front of you, boots clicking against the tile floor of the infirmary. He tapped his pen against a clipboard, brows pinched in concern. You watched him from your seat upon the examination table, kicking your legs lazily and waiting for him to speak.

“I see,” he muttered. “Stress, anxiety, inability to concentrate- these are the symptoms you listed, ja?”

“That’s right.” You nodded, even though Medic never looked up from his clipboard. He mused over his notes for a while- which you found funny, given that you hadn’t seen him take a single note since the two of you had started this little roleplay. In fact, you were pretty sure the pen he was holding was out of ink.

The infirmary doors were locked for the night, and the exam table you sat on came with soft pillows that were far more luxurious than any doctor's office would deem necessary. You tapped your fingers on the edge of the table, a look of mock concern on your face as you waited for your beloved doctor to deliver a diagnosis.

Said beloved doctor however proved to be quite the actor, dedicated to the character enough to stare at what could very well be a blank sheet of notebook paper while making inquisitive noises for a good ten seconds. You cleared your throat, which finally prompted him to speak.

“I see… there’s only one thing it could be,” he said, placing the clipboard aside. You glanced at it and saw that, yes, there was indeed a blank sheet of paper pinned to it. It took every bit of your will to stay in character and not start laughing.

“What’s the diagnosis?” you asked, eyes wide. You even let your voice shake a bit for effect.

“I’m afraid it’s hysteria, my dear.”

That was it. You cracked, a harsh cackle escaping you before you could even process what he had said. “Hysteria?” you gasped between fits of laughter. “Seriously?”

Medic was holding back his own laughter, with far more success than you, although a soft chuckle or two could still be heard. “Come now, I thought we were staying in character?” he playfully scolded you.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry,” you said, finally catching your breath. This was fine, you could work with this. You could work with hysteria. The very thought almost brought you to tears once again but you managed to contain yourself, falling back into your role with a dramatic gasp. “Oh doctor! How long do I have?”

That little outburst actually did manage to make Medic laugh, but he regained his composure quickly. “Oh, don’t worry about that, dear. The treatment is very simple. However I must warn you, it’s a bit hands on.” His tone was suggestive, however Medic continued to smile brightly at you as if nothing was wrong. “Just relax while I retrieve my tools!” he said, cheery as ever.

Tools? Knowing Medic, said tools could be anything, and that set your nerves on edge. Should you have mentioned that lobotomies were a hard limit for you beforehand? Oh well, that’s what safe words were for.

Medic returned with a small box made of dark wood, so dark it almost looked like obsidian at a glance. He opened it facing away from you, blocking your view and building up your anticipation moment by moment. You tried to crane your neck to peak inside, and while the view wasn’t great, you could at least tell that there weren’t any shiny, sharp, brain poking tools to worry about.

“Now, I just need you to undress and lay back on the table for me,” Medic said. He watched you like a hawk as you stripped away your clothing, article by article. You were so obedient, only showing a hint of hesitation. It was all part of the game of course, you were playing your role- a shy patient with complete trust in her doctor. Honestly, it was an adorable look for you.

Once you were completely unclothed, Medic pulled his first tool from the box- a small rabbit vibrator. It was a solid, polished black, almost matching the box that contained it, with a delicious curve to hit all the right spots. “You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked, holding the device delicately in one gloved hand.

“Um- well…” you stammered, genuinely considering whether you should continue playing the part of a stereotypical hysterical woman and say no. Or maybe you were putting a bit too much thought into an act that was ultimately meant to get you laid. This was sex, not high class theater. Thankfully, Medic continued before you could consider it for too long.

“It’s something that will help rid you of those pesky anxieties of yours.” He set the vibrator aside. “Of course, we will have to prepare you first.”

He retrieved something else from the case, which you quickly recognized as a bottle of lube. You spread your legs while he squeezed the contents of the bottle onto his fingers. You saw his eyes dart towards you, a smirk spreading over his face.

“You’re already in the correct position for me. Good girl.” He set the bottle down. “Now, this may be a bit cold.”

You winced. ‘A bit cold’ was an understatement. Medic hadn’t bothered to warm it at all. Perhaps that was just another part of the roleplay, keeping everything clinical and professional up until the last moment. But honestly, how professional could you be when he was beginning to circle your clit with those slick fingers. You sighed and bit your lip when he ventured lower, spreading you with two fingers before plunging one into you with one quick, easy motion.

“How does that feel?” he asked, sounding far too casual for being knuckle deep inside of you.

You sighed, feeling him curl his finger within you gently, trying to coax a moan from you that you barely managed to suppress. “It feels nice,” you answered after a few steadying breaths.

“Perfekt. The comfort of my patients is my top priority.” He slide a second finger in as he spoke, pulsing them gently against that sensitive spot inside you. You shuddered, biting your lip to keep quiet. You didn't want to come undone so easily from just two fingers. “Don't be shy, fraulein,” Medic said, as if he had read your thoughts. “You’re far from the first to become a bit vocal during treatments such as this.”

“It’s embarrassing,” you whined, covering your face with your hands. Your cheeks were already burning, and your ‘treatment’ had barely begun.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed in front of your doctor, dear,” Medic said, keeping up his facade of professionalism even though deep down he wanted to tell you how adorable you were when you were flustered like this. You opened your mouth to respond and he chose that moment to press hard against your g-spot, turning any words you may have spoken into a wanton moan. “See? It’s easier to not hold back. No one will hear you but me.”

He couldn’t hide the slightly possessive tone his voice took on, clearly relishing the fact that your moans were for him and him alone. Medic’s free hand rested on your chest, feeling your pulse quicken beneath his palm. His other hand continued its shallow pumping, feeling you clench around his fingers. It seemed you were ready for the next step of your treatment.

He retrieved the vibrator, turning it on its lowest setting for now. You were so preoccupied with your own pleasure that you barely noticed the soft hum of the toy until it was pressed against your clit. You gasped, arching back, bucking against it before you even registered what was happening.

“Relax, liebchen. There’s no need to rush. We have all night.” Medic moved the toy in slow, gentle circles over your clit, watching you squirm beneath his expert ministrations. It was times like this when his knowledge of anatomy truly proved useful. With his free hand, he traced his fingers along your body, lingering on erogenous zones and areas that he knew were sensitive to you in particular.

Medic drank in every little reaction he drew from you- the quiver of your thighs, the way your hips twitched, your whole body shuddering as you got ever closer to tipping over that edge. How nice it would be to keep you like this forever, a writhing mess, pleading for release. That scenario would be stored away in the back of Medic’s mind for a later date. Today, he simply had to treat his patient.

“Now, I want you to let go for me, liebling. Let the pleasure take you.”

“Already?” you asked.

“Ja, come for your doctor,” his words were a clear order and he pressed the vibrator firmly against you, all of which made it quite easy for you to obey his command. You arched against the exam table with a cry. You thought you could hear Medic whispering praises to you, but with the blood rushing in your ears you couldn’t be certain.

You weren’t sure when Medic turned the vibrator off. Apparently he didn’t want to overstimulate you yet, carefully removing the toy and setting it aside in a sterile metal tray that was meant for surgical tools, and was most certainly not meant for sex toys. Then again, this was Medic’s infirmary, so he could use his equipment for whatever he damn well pleased. After all, medical exam tables probably weren’t meant as a place for you to languish post-orgasm bliss, yet here you were.

“You have done wonderfully, my dear.” His voice was fuzzy. You weren’t sure if it was because he was whispering or if you were struggling to hear him through the heavy afterglow that had settled over you. His hand was still on your chest. In fact it had never left, still feeling your heartbeat, now beginning to slow alongside the now gentle rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, he moved to caress one of your breasts, making your breath hitch. “However, just to be safe, perhaps we should administer a second dose?”

You chuckled. “You’re the doctor, sir. What do you think?”

Medic set the vibrator aside before leaning down to kiss you suddenly. His answer couldn’t be more clear. When you parted he was breathless, and a glance downward proved that he had definitely been holding his own desire back for quite some time. You palmed the hardness straining against his pants, and he gave a sharp inhale, barely holding back a moan.

“This isn’t very professional, is it, doctor?” you asked.

“Nonsense, liebchen. This is common procedure,” he said, ever committed to the bit, even as he undid his belt. Once his pants were off he didn’t bother with his coat or vest, climbing atop the table with a speed that betrayed his impatience to get to the main event. The examination table creaked softly with the added weight, but held fast.

Medic situated himself between your legs and you shuddered, feeling his cock pressed against your thigh. “Please,” you whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please, doctor.”

“Oh, you poor thing. You really did need this, didn’t you?” He pressed his cock against your entrance, pausing for an agonizing few seconds just to hear you whine. “Well, let’s not delay any longer then.”

You moaned, but Medic’s own sounds nearly drowned you out as he buried himself within you, pulling out almost completely, and then bottoming out again. His pace was slow, and he made a point to revel in every second, his eyes fluttering closed with each languid thrust, a look of torturous bliss crossing his features. He may have needed this even more than you did.

Wrapping your arms over his shoulders, you pulled him down into another kiss. He moaned against your mouth and you drank in his sounds, swallowing them like medicine. You wanted more, biting his lip and savoring the gasp it drew from him, running your hands up his arms and feeling the muscles shudder as if your very touch made him weak.

Medic pulled away from your mouth suddenly, panting, apparently realizing that he did in fact still need to breathe. “Liebe, I think you’re forgetting that this treatment is for you,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice not going unnoticed..

“I like to touch you,” you said, reaching up to caress his cheek, feeling the subtle prick of stubble. He leaned into your touch instinctively, although he continued to playfully scold you.

“Well, like you said, it’s not very professional, but I’ll allow it.” He was so easy to read when he was worked up like this. You could tell Medic was thrilled at the thought of you touching, stroking, and caressing him as he fucked you senseless, the wandering of your hands becoming less coordinated the closer you got to orgasm.

You clutched onto Medic’s coat, pulling at the fabric until he was unable to stand the extra layers and shucked it off, leaving it to fall to the floor. You alternated between digging your nails into his back and running your fingers through his hair, disheveling the normally well groomed locks. All the while Medic maintained a steady, albeit far too slow pace. You wanted more, letting your need be vocalized with a desperate mantra of “harder, harder, harder!”

“Beg for it.” Medic’s voice was low and lust ridden as he spoke between suckling kisses to your neck, leaving plenty of marks in his wake. His breath tickled your neck and sent shivers up and down your spine.

“Is it a common procedure for a patient to beg for their treatment, doctor?”

Medic groaned, although it sounded more akin to a low growl. “Are you questioning my medical expertise, liebe?” His teeth grazed your neck.

“Well, you did lose your license…” A firm bite against your collar made you gasp and you fixed your attitude quickly. “I mean, of course not sir! Please! Please fuck me harder, I need it!”

A chuckle was your only warning before Medic braced himself against the edges of the exam table. As if a switch had been flipped, he began thrusting into you hard and fast. The shift was sudden and intense. It was almost enough to give you whiplash.

“Gott, maybe I really did need this,” Medic groaned, mostly to himself. You had heard him loud and clear though, and it led you to wonder if this was now some kind of mutual medical procedure.

You didn’t get the chance to ponder that for long before Medic was on your lips once again, kissing you hard, any semblance of professionalism officially slipping away. Your breath hitched and the few words you could manage to get out were soft and quivering, cut off by moans. For the most part you were unintelligible, but Medic recognized the signs well enough.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He asked. He received no discernible response, not that he expected to. “You don’t have to answer, liebchen, I know I’m right. Your doctor knows your body better than anyone. Bitte, wrap your legs around me.”

You were more than happy to do just that. You dug your nails into his shoulders as he thrust into you, your legs wrapped tightly around those strong hips. Your lower body was elevated just enough for Medic to hit that sweet spot dead on. It was what finally pushed you over the edge.

“Look at me,” Medic said. “I want to see you come on my cock. I have to make sure your treatment is carried out in full.”

One of his hands gripped your hair in a tight fist, making sure you couldn’t turn your face away. Your muscles spasmed and you cried out as you came, bucking uselessly against him, trying to prolong this feeling. You wanted it all, as much as he could give to you. Medic fucked you through your orgasm, and beyond. Even as your high began to ebb his pace didn't falter.

He let go of your hair, letting your had fall to the side. Your cries had diminished to soft whines and whimpers as he overstimulated you, chasing his own release. In fact your sounds only seemed to spur him on faster and faster until he doubled over with a low moan. He thrust into you unevenly a few more times before going still, the sound of heavy, gasping breaths being the only noise that remained.

Medic’s grip on the table remained firm. He was using the last of his strength to keep from collapsing on top of you. Getting up wasn’t an option just yet either, as you didn’t seem too keen to let him go.

“Stay,” you whimpered, legs still wrapped tight around his waist, keeping him buried within you. “Please.”

“This isn’t the most comfortable place, meine liebe. Wouldn’t you rather come to bed?”

You groaned, not wanting to admit that he was right. You would much rather enjoy the afterglow in a nice, soft bed. Reluctantly, you let him go, ignoring the ache in your legs as you untangled them from around his hips. .

“Let me clean you up first,” Medic said, leaving you to lay on the exam table, spent and now woefully empty until he returned with a moist cloth. He wiped the sweat from your brow, traveling further down your body down to the most delicate parts. He was gentle and diligent, making sure to be especially cautious around areas that made you wince, still sore from your previous activities.

When he was finished he tossed the cloth aside before lifting you into his arms. He wouldn’t dream of making his beloved patient walk after such a strenuous treatment, after all. You were so tired, heavy and limp in his arms. The plush sheets you were laid upon were a welcome change from the firm exam table.

“That was fun,” you yawned, curling up next to Medic when he joined you on the bed.

“You played your role quite well, liebchen.”

“You just fucked my brains out, you don’t have to flatter me too,” you said. “I know my acting leaves a lot to be desired.”

“I personally enjoyed your portrayal of a naive 19th century maiden.”

You scoffed. “That wasn’t even what I was going for, at least not until you diagnosed me with hysteria.” You were still endlessly amused by that particular aspect of the role play. “I can’t believe you did that. I thought you were going to go with, I don’t know, generalized stress or something.”

“It fit the situation. Vibrators were invented to treat hysteria, after all,” he said.

“So were lobotomies, probably.” You yawned, not really caring what vibrators or lobotomies were meant for at this point. Exhaustion was beginning to replace the afterglow with every passing second.

“You’re getting tired, aren’t you?” Medic brushed a strand of hair out of your face, watching your eyes begin to drift shut. “Rest here. I still need to clean up the examination table.”

“It’s okay if I spend the night in your room, right?” you asked, even though you knew the answer would be yes.

“Of course, meine liebe.” he chuckled, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of your palm. “I think overnight observation would be wise after such rigorous treatment.”

[ichikopotato]

I hope I’m not disturbing you but can I request a maybe..bill smut? 2009-2010 maybe 😭 where he’s just saying such sweet things to the reader and the reader just goesss absolutely dumb from it , thank you and I love your writings soo much ♥️

YESYESSSYESSSSSSSARGRGDHDJDJD

✮⋆˙ pairings : 2009 B. Kaulitz ᡣ𐭩

✮⋆˙ warnings : smut (obvi) softdom! bill, sub! reader, reader is a cutie patootie, sweet bill, praising kink, begging, implied second round, overall just a soft, sweet bill. ᡣ𐭩

✮⋆˙ a/n : yall, this is mfing hell week at school. I have this fuckin project due at 12, currently writing this at 10:24 PM!!! ᡣ𐭩

-> IT WAS A COZY AFTERNOON with your boyfriend, Bill. You both were snuggled up together in your bed, watching TV. It was the first act of affection you gotten for the whole day, ever since your boyfriend was gone off to the studio working for a new album.

You were snuggled up in his chest, your leg’s tangled up together. His chin rested onto your head, as he kissed it softly. As the credits rolled out, you felt something hard on your lower back.

“Baby, is that the remote?” You smile, asking him. He smirked, turning around so you straddled his waist. “Nein, honey. Wan’ me to show you sweetheart?” He muttered, smiling as his voice got lower.

You stutter, blushing softly as you realised what it was. You nodded, biting your lower lip. “Ja, please baby.” As he pulled you into a kiss, smiling softly.

He groaned, unbuttoning your pajamas. He pulled away, removing his pajamas as well leaving you both naked. He moaned softly, rubbing your clit. “Wan’ this, schatz? want me to make you feel good?”

He chuckled, kissing your cheek. He slowly inserted his fingers into your sopping wetness, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. “Feels good, Hübsches Mädchen?” “Willst du mehr? Ja? Coming right up, honey.” “My sweet girl, Das ist hübsch für mich.” “Want me to kiss you? s’cute.”

You felt your stomach flipped around at his words, as the coil in your stomach got tighter. “m’close, bill..” you moan out, holding onto his shoulders. You whimper, releasing all over his fingers.

He cooed, kissing you softly. He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, licking it clean. Bill slowly positioned himself at your entrance, before pushing inside, groaning. “C’mon, baby. Ride me, kay?” He smiles.

You nodded, slowly riding him. He groaned, grabbing your hips. “Go faster f’me, sweet girl.” As you obeyed, riding him at a steady pace. You moan, your breasts bouncing up and down, as he massaged them gently.

“Such a good girl f’me, baby.” “Doing so well, fuck— keep riding me like that.” “Gonna make you ride me more often now, baby.”

Something occurred in your pussy at his gentle words, making you ride him faster than you did before.

As you ride him faster, you tighten around him, moaning n’ whimpering. “You close, pretty?” He grunted. You nodded, whining as you came all over him. You moaned, your legs shaking as you rode out your highs together.

He panted, gulping. He pulled you into a passionate kiss, moaning softly. Your hands tangled up in his hair, as your tongues danced together.

You both pull away, panting and flustered. He kissed your neck, leaving a little hickey.

“Can you take more, Mein hübsches Baby?”

guess you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

OMG FLOP. IM SO SORRY, ILL BE DELIVERING SLAY NEXT TIME. THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME, FOR YOUR LOVE AND SUPPORT, THANK YOU🫶🏻 I LOVE YOU ALL ANGELS, STAY SAFE💋

[whxre-bxby]

Hate-Fucking with Mansk

THANK YOU FOR 1K Followers you guys deserve the world!

Recom Mansk x Recom f. Y/N

I will be making one with Lyle thanks to the great plot idea from @onlyreadz

Masterlist

Summary: Mansk has been attracted to you since you were human. As a newly recruited recombinant, he was ready to focus on the mission but your presence distracts him. A hatred for you builds up in him along with frustration and one evening, it all comes out and he can't help himself but deal with you.

WARNINGS: SMUT, man-handling, degrading, mean Mansk, filthy language, violence, fighting, angst, non-con (a little), hurt/comfort,

Side rant: this shit took me ages, enjoy (made with love)

Word Count: 9760

Today was the day the recombinant plan was being put into action. This was a major breakthrough for the RDA and their best hope of finding Jake Sully. 

Since the recom’s had the memories of soldiers and were now much bigger than humans, they needed to be woken up in groups so that the medical staff could tend to them all. All of them were therefore woken separately to ensure everyone's safety and prevent chaos. 

Mansk was in the first group along with Lopez, Warren, and Walker. Everything went well there and once they had been medically checked they were allowed to leave and dress themselves in their uniforms. 

They were told to wait in the cafeteria until everyone was awake. Mansk had a hard time adapting to his new body but he kept it to himself. His friend managed to distract him from it too. 

The second group was slightly more chaotic. But what did they expect when they had Lyle and Miles in the same room? Quaritch apparently delivered a solid punch to Lyle’s face which was well deserved because that is not the first thing one wants to wake up to. Especially not after one’s memories have the Na’vi categorised under the clear enemy. Nothing huge happened and soon they joined the others in the cafeteria. 

The group you were in was the last group but you were woken at the same time as the second one, just in a different room. 

Let’s just say that chaos was very much present there too. You woke up along with Ja, Prager, and Brown and Ja did the same thing Lyle did to Brown. Brown was known for being fast to act on his instincts so Ja wasn’t just punched, he was put in a chokehold. 

While this whole commotion was happening your eyes were opening and the noise startled you, making you sit up. There was a human next to you trying to keep you laying down but it didn’t really work. You scanned the room, watching 2 Na’vi males roll around on the floor while a third tried pulling them apart and obviously, you freaked out. Before they knew you were awake you screamed, jumping off the side of the bed. The fighting stopped for a second as they looked at you. Prager hurried over to you, trying to calm you down and introduce himself but you weren’t having it. 

The pause in the fight was used to Brown’s advantage as he pulled Ja to his feet and they slammed up against a screen attached to the ceiling. It broke off, swinging to you and the edge of it hit your jaw. 

Prager stepped closer than you wanted and the heart-beat detecting monitor next to you was launched at him. Prager ducked the heavy equipment and it flew right past Brown’s head who had let go of Ja in shock. Ja had rolled him over now, yelling at his previous friend while Prager was shouting at you to stop damaging the equipment. 

He called your name which confused you and soon you remembered that you were supposed to wake up like this. 

Y/N’s POV: 

“Oh fuck- Prager I’m sorry.”  I said, clasping my face in my hands and gathering myself. 

He tried comforting me while pulling Ja off of Brown and eventually, everyone had calmed down. 

The medics tried patching up my bruised jaw and bleeding nose but it hurt more so I left to get dressed. We were given new uniforms and then given permission to leave and meet the others. 

When we arrived, Quaritch was already giving everyone a pep-talk. Ja flung the door open stepping inside. Brown put his hand on his shoulder in an apologetic manner for the punches but Ja pushed his hand away, still mad. 

The room went silent as we walked in. Brown followed Ja inside and both of them had bruises and small cuts. I walked in after Brown, holding a bloody tissue to my nose and Prager was behind me to watch out for us. 

No one else was injured. Just Lyle had suffered a punch. Fike apparently too. Seeing us all walk in was like watching soldiers return from war and Quaritch sighed. Maybe this team would kill itself before he could order us to step outside. 

Lyle broke the silence by laughing, getting up and examining Brown before laughing more. I wasn’t in the mood for his jokes so I sat down next on the bench, ears tipped back. I noticed through the tattoos and some facial features that I was sitting next to Z-Dog who was already grinning at me. I scoffed at her amused reaction and she pressed me against her before biting her lip. 

“What the fuck happened?” she asked, making me show her my bleeding nose while she and Walker suppressed laughter. 

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” I say, shrugging it off. It was embarrassing. 

“Lyle got punched by the Colonel.” she whispered and I looked at her wide-eyed before wheezing. 

“No way.” I say, looking at Lyle who had now sat down too. She nodded and I gave in. 

“Brown had Ja face-down on the ground.” I whisper back, smiling. “And I thought Prager was going to kill me.” 

She held a fist in front of her mouth as we both grinned. “They threw a TV at me.” I add to her amusement and she laughs. 

“Assholes.” I whisper jokingly. Everyone settles down and Quaritch begins explaining our mission. 

Third Person POV:

Your group walked into the room and everyone had examined you all, noting the injuries and the tension. Mansk recognised his former colleagues, smiling to himself when he saw how they messed each other up. Then his eyes moved on to you and his smile was swiped clean off. 

He stared and his heart stopped beating for a moment. Of course, Mansk remembered you. You were his main and secret problem as a human. He didn’t know you had signed up for the Phoenix project. 

His eyes stayed fixated on you as you sat down and he scanned all your features. As you talked to Z-Dog, Lopez nudged him in the side with a chuckle. 

“Not even a minute in and you’re back on ‘er.” he whispered and Mansk’s eyes shot to him while he flattened his ears back. 

“Shut up.” Mansk shrugged him off, looking down at his feet. Lopez knew that he used to like you before.

Mansk had a thing for you when you were humans but he never told you and you never knew. He didn’t plan on telling you now either. The plan was to do what he did before: suppress his feelings and ignore you as best he could. He wasn’t able to ignore you before but now this was going to be a new version of Mansk. A better one, he told himself. This time, he would avoid you. 

Mansk needed to set his priorities straight. He was on a mission here which involved some personal conflict for he knew Jake too and wanted revenge. He hated the Na’vi and was ready to give this mission his all. No distractions. That wouldn’t happen this time. He also hated that his attraction to you stayed even in your Avatar form. 

Y/N’s POV:

We had landed on Pandora now. 

The next day we were getting our gear ready for the mission and I was given a gun I’d never seen before. I wasn’t familiar with this type of weapon because this wasn’t the one we would ever use. They probably created new guns while we were gone. I held it, examining the firearm and trying to figure out how to load it and with what. 

Everyone else was busy with their stuff, except for Mansk who was leaning against a table next to his finished and clean guns. I remembered him. I think we might have even been quite good friends. One of the things I remember about him was that he knew his weapons. He could definitely help me with mine. 

I grab my stuff and walk over to him. He’s wearing his shades and only looks at me once I’m right next to him. 

“Hey,” I smile. “Can you help me with this? I don’t know how to load it.” I say, laying out my weapon which seemed to have three parts. I expected this to be a good ice-breaker and from then on we could have a nice conversation and catch up on things. But no.

He just tilted his head to the side to look at my gun, then at me and then he looked away. 

“You should know how.” he replied, his voice low and cold. Mansk then reached for his things and left, exiting the room without another word. 

I stood there watching him leave, surprised by his answer. We used to always talk. What was that about?

Either way, I found his reaction unnecessary. We’re meant to help each other and he was being an asshole. Mansk better have a good explanation for that otherwise I’ll be pissed. Maybe something happened, so I’ll let it slide once. 

Something similar happened that evening. We were once again in the cafeteria specifically made for the recombinants and I had just gotten my food. 

Zdinarsk was the closest person in here to me so I was obviously going to sit with her. We had large tables for multiple people to sit on at once and I spotted her next to Lyle. As I’m walking to her I notice Mansk is opposite Lyle and the only space free is opposite Z-Dog which is next to him. 

Maybe he will apologise now and tell me what got him in such a bad mood. 

Without thinking much of it, I put my tray down on the table and Zdinarsk smiles at me before continuing to listen to the conversation between Lyle and Prager who was on the other side of Mansk. 

I sit down and notice Mansk glance at me from the corner of my eye. He freezes, looking away and tightly clenches his fist around the knife he’s holding. I’m unwrapping my food and suddenly, he stands up in silence and swipes his tray from the table, leaving us all startled. 

Mansk walked away and I felt him glare at me as he turned away and walked to another table. 

Zdinarsk and I exchange glances. 

“What’s up with him?” Lyle asks chuckling and taking a bite out of his bread. They watched him walk off and I huffed, wiping my hand over my face. 

“No idea. He’s being a real dick.” I mumble, arranging the food on my plate. 

“Really? He was just joking around with us a minute ago.” Zdinarsk said and I looked up at her. Maybe he wasn’t just in a bad mood. Perhaps my gut feeling was right. Mansk might really dislike me for whatever reason. 

“I think he hates me.” I say, looking down and starting my meal. 

“What you do?” she asks, her eyes flicking between Mansk and me. He’s sat at the table behind me, his back facing mine. Lyle and Prager are quietly listening. Lyle loved listening to all the drama and the news. It was his guilty pleasure. In a way, he was a gossip girl.

As humans, I could be ranting about my ex to Z-Dog and he would be standing with us, eating his protein bars and just listening with wide eyes. 

“Nothing. Literally nothing.” I say and she stays silent in thought for a while before we all shrug it off and start talking about something else. 

Today we had started the mission and we were sent out into the forest of Pandora. Roughly in the area, the last battle took place. It was all very familiar and even though there was beautiful scenery all around us, it haunted me. I died on these grounds a few years back…

We were walking in line, following Quaritch and Lyle who were leading the way. 

“Alright team, we’re runnin’ out of time so we need to split up te’ cover more ground.” Quaritch said, turning around and resting one hand on his vest while the other held his gun. Lyle nodded, looking at us before Quaritch quickly counted down the line, pointing two of his fingers at his soldiers to divide us up into pairs. At least he wasn’t calling out our names, then it would feel like we’re back in school. 

Mansk stood frozen as I watched Quaritch quickly point the two of us together. He looked around and everyone was already walking off in pairs while the Colonel turned around, leaving with Lyle.

Great…

I had my own mission for the next hour: to make this the worst most unpleasant hour Mansk has experienced. He was getting some payback for how he treated me before. I don’t let things like that just slide. 

He was tense and his ears pinned back flat against his head as he huffed, looking at me. I gave him an innocent smile which I knew would piss him off. It did and he turned away, walking in the direction we were supposed to go in. 

If he doesn’t start a fight I won’t bother him. But I’m sure he’ll have something to say before our time ends. 

I followed him in silence, looking around and holding my weapon steady. 

After about 15 minutes of hearing nothing but the sounds of the forest, the first comment came from him. 

“Walk faster.” he said, not even bothering to turn around. I stop and my ears perk forwards as I process his words. Who does he think he is?

“I’m right behind you.” I snap back, rolling my eyes. “Dipshit.” I mumble. 

His ears react to the insult and he turns around. “What?” 

“Dipshit.” I repeat in a mocking way, making his brows furrow in irritation behind his stupid shades. I walk past him, refusing to waste another second of my time dealing with him. 

“Quit it, you’ll ruin the mission.” he says, starting to walk behind me now with his ears strained again. 

“Oh really?” I say, waving my arms. “How?”

I turn to face him and as I do I slightly stumble over a root in the path. Mansk raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Actin’ like that.” he replies, motioning to my leg. Now my ears are flattened back and my tail flicks in annoyance as I glare at him. 

“Like your behaviour is so much better. Take your stupid shades off and then we’ll see who’s talking.” I call out, turning around again and walking away. 

That got under his skin. “Take it back.” he growls, following me again. 

“Like, apologise? No way. If any one of us needs to apologise it’s you.” I sneer in response. 

I hear him scoff in annoyance too. My attitude was frustrating him but I didn’t care because he was such a pain in my ass. 

“Yeah? For what?” he asks, watching me walk in front of him. 

“For being such an ass to me for no reason. The fuck did I do?” I ask, stopping and turning to face him. I really wanted to know. 

He scowled at me before just ignoring what I said and walking further. I let out a frustrated groan. 

“Fucking answer.” I call after him, fighting the urge to call him a ‘hormonal bitch’. Damn was he lucky I was restraining myself. 

“Shut up and walk.” he mutters with an ice-cold tone. 

“You’re being such a moron. We used to be friends.” I say, looking down while continuing to walk straight ahead. My body bumps into his and then I realise that he stopped in his tracks, facing me. 

He was towering over me, a stern expression dressing his face. 

“We weren’t friends. You were a pain in my ass. Always clueless. Never knowin’ what to do and never doin’ it right.” he snarled at me and his harsh words startled me, making me take a step back. I didn’t expect that. 

“How you got chosen for this mission is a fuckin’ mystery te’ me, airhead.” He added, walking up on me and staring me down before walking off again. 

I wanted to shout an insult back at him but deep down his words hurt me. I stood still for a few moments, repeating what he just said to me and it made my heart ache. My memories told me we used to be great friends. Why were his so different?

Mansk almost disappears behind the trees so I start walking again,re-adjusting some of the gear I had on. After about five minutes I catch up to him again but we walk in silence. When we turn a corner I notice Mansk stopped walking again. 

“For fuck’s sake what is it now?” I complain, wanting to push past him until I hear a loud snort and huff. I freeze myself as Mansk and I slowly look up, meeting eyes with a huge animal. 

I immediately recognise it. It’s an elephant-sized cow creature. The one that crushed Lyle. It’s almost roaring at us and Mansk stretches his arm out in front of me, pushing me back. 

The purple feather-like parts on its head move around and I realise it is displaying a territorial warning. The one Jake, Grace and Norm dealt with in the forest. Grace taught me all about it. 

Mansk curses under his breath before grabbing my vest and tugging me back. 

“Run.” he shouts but I push him off of me. 

He doesn’t understand and gets frustrated with me, wondering why I wasn’t going with him. I turn back to the creature and throw my gun down on the ground next to me. It wouldn’t help in any scenario here. Mansk didn’t know that and I heard bullets soar through the air. They pushed off of the animal's thick skin, not harming it. The action just made it angrier.

“Don’t you dare shoot at it.” I snarl at him while the animal backs up. “You’ll make it worse.” 

He’s watching me with wide eyes, standing a few feet behind me. 

“Put the gun down, Mansk!” I shout, watching as he hesitates. My attention returns to the animal and it has finished backing up now. I steady myself on the ground, placing one foot in front of the other and watching it. It takes off, running towards us at full speed and I take a step forward, snarling at it and baring my fangs. 

Mansk’s heart drops in fear as it nears us.

It comes to a halt barely in front of me, quickly backing up and huffing. I watch it for a while, not moving from my position. It watches me, waiting for me to retreat but I don’t, so it turns and leaves. The tall grass rustles as the animal turns away and I straighten my posture, watching it until it’s fully gone. 

I turn to look at Mansk who looks completely shocked. His expression makes me scoff. 

“Clueless airhead, huh?” I say, giving him a shit-eating grin before picking up my gun and resuming our walk. “Look at you hiding behind me like a bitch.”

His perked ears tip back again as I resume the argument.

He watches me with wide eyes before quickly following. I knew he was confused but he wouldn’t ask so I might as well enlighten him with the things I do know. 

“That was a Hammerhead Titanothere. They’re not usually aggressive. It was just a territorial warning display.” I say and I know very well he is listening. 

“Shooting it is useless. They have bulletproof skin. You just need to stand your ground when it does that.” I continue to explain, not looking behind me. 

Now I turn around, just to mock him. “You see, I’m not good at loading these stupid guns and yet my chances of survival here are still bigger than yours.” I smile at him and he shoots me a glare. 

It amazed Mansk how well you handled that situation. Of course, he wouldn’t ever say that. But you had climbed a rank in his eyes. That didn’t change how much he despised you though. He despised your attitude even though it was his fault you were giving it to him. Mansk hated how easily you would get him distracted and how you never seemed to understand his grudge against you. 

We returned to the meeting area and no one found anything. The mission was called off for the day and we returned to Bridgehead. I didn’t speak to Mansk on the way back at all. Why should I? He wasn’t just rude anymore he was unnecessarily mean to me. 

Later that evening, I was back in the gym. The gym was its own separate building with very bright lights. Everyone had left because everyone gets up early. I couldn’t sleep though because I felt so frustrated and angered, I needed to let it out somewhere. The unlucky boxing bag was getting it all. I was able to properly let my emotions out because no one else was in here with me. The recom’s had their own gym because we needed bigger equipment. And everyone had gone to bed. 

I wanted to scream my lungs out as I delivered punch after punch to the bag but I knew someone would hear me, thinking it was an emergency. 

I continued beating the shit out of the boxing sack when I heard the main door click open. My arms reached for the bag to still it and I held onto it to stay on my feet while turning around to see who had entered the gym. I had hair sticking to my face and my chest was heaving while beads of sweat decorated my blue skin. 

My eyes met the eyes of Mansk who was standing in front of the door with his hands in his joggers. My ears immediately pin back which secretly amuses him. 

I watch him for a few seconds, wondering what he’s doing here but he doesn’t move or do anything. He isn’t even wearing his usual training clothes. 

“The fuck you want?” I ask, wiping my forehead with the back of my hand which was in a boxing glove. 

Mansk scoffed and looked at the ground for a second in thought before scanning the empty gym. He was wearing his damned shades again. They made him look meaner.

“Nothin’.” he said, facing forwards again. I didn’t like whatever he was up to. My eyes linger on him for a little while longer in an attempt to read his mind before I turn away, taking my gloves off. 

“Done already?” he asked from somewhere behind me, walking closer. I roll my eyes and sigh, trying to pull myself together so that I won’t snap at him. 

“I’ve been here for over 2 hours. Yes, I’m done.” I snarl, refusing to look at him. 

“Don’t let me intimidate you.” he said with a breathy laugh and I knew he was smirking to himself right now. Mansk was surprisingly talkative with me. Definitely not in a pleasant way but he was a very distanced and quiet person in general. Maybe he just needed me to know how much he disliked me. 

I scoff. “Yeah, right. Like you could ever.” 

Mansk exhales a huff through his nose as tension builds in the air. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so rude I could take you more seriously.” I say, throwing the gloves to the ground and heading to the showers. 

“I’m rude?” he asks, now standing on the large rubber mat I was training on. It was a big square designed for boxing and sparring. 

“Nooo.” I reply, sarcastically. Mansk hated sarcasm. 

“Fuck- why do you have to be like this.” He mumbled, brushing his nose with his finger. I stop walking and turn around. 

“What did you say?” I ask, awaiting an answer as I stand with my weight shifted on one leg and my arms crossed in front of my chest. 

Mansk didn’t answer which made me huff in annoyance. Why did he even come here?

I walked over to him, getting back in the ring and leaning on the side ropes so I could look at him properly. His ears perked forwards, paying me attention while his eyes followed my movements. 

“If you came here just to get on my nerves you can leave.” I say, not allowing myself to look away. My tail swished behind me, showing my pent-up frustration with him. His one did the same and his ears pinned back.

“Or you can tell me why the fuck you’re like this.” I add, giving him the options I can think of until another idea enters my mind. 

“Or…” I say, not necessarily meaning this seriously. “ you can fight me.” I press my body further into the elastic railing fencing in the boxing ring while a mischievous grin paints my face. He was probably going to walk away. 

Mansk seemed surprised by my words, not moving for almost a minute as he thought. I was about to turn away and walk to the showers again when I heard his voice. 

“Fine.” Was all he said as he walked towards me. I backed up and he entered the ring with me. 

“Don’t respond with just ‘fine’. I’m gracing you with the option to finally be close to me, so you can stop being an ass.”  I joke, turning away from him and I hear him fucking growl.

I freeze, turning around to him again. He looks really pissed. 

“Oh no, I’m so intimidated now.” I mock him, ridiculing his stern expression. 

“Shut the fuck up.” he snarls, making my ears perk forward at his aggressive reaction. 

I snort. “What do you want me to say? ‘Make me’?” 

He cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders back. “Sure.” 

“In your dreams, jerk.” I snap at him, taking the opposite corner. 

This was a great opportunity in my eyes. He agreed to it and I would finally be able to punch the shit out of him. ‘Legally’. 

He was staring me down, waiting for any sudden movement I would make which would trigger him to pounce. 

“You gonna count down?” he asks eagerly, fighting himself to stay still. 

“When you grow a pair.” I spit my words and that’s all he can take. 

Mansk lunges forwards, running to me with quick steps. I dodge his first punch by moving to the side and then grab his left arm, twisting it. He groans and then one of his hands is gripping my wrist. I let go of him and his now free hand wraps around the back of my neck. He swiftly turns me around so that I’m no longer facing him and within the next second, my knee is kicked in and I fall down a level. He holds me up by my neck while both my knees hit the ground but before he can think of what to do next, my legs lock around his ankles and I manage to trip him. He falls back while I turn and straddle him, trying to keep him held down. 

“Asshole, you’re breaking all the rules.” I hiss at him, leaning down to his face to emphasize my words and he angrily pushes me off of him. I land on my back and when he’s about to jump on me I roll to the side. 

“There’s no fuckin’ rules when I’m fightin’ a bitch.” Mansk gnarled, pushing his upper body off the floor and not taking his eyes off his prey. I sit back on my knees and as he attempts to tackle me down I deliver a punch to the side of his face which brings him out of balance. 

“I’m sorry, which one of us was fucking-” I gasp for air “cowering behind the other in the forest today?” I say, recalling him standing behind me when we were almost attacked by the large animal. 

He stays still for a few seconds, holding his jaw and breathing heavily. I didn’t manage to hit him properly because he slightly moved out of the way, meaning it couldn’t hurt too much. However, it was still a punch and it felt good. 

He growled again, turning to me and as he lunged forward, his hand caught my ankle. Immediately he pulled me to him. My free leg kicked his shoulder back but his posture was stable and he pinned them to the ground. His hand then grasped my queue, forcing me to turn around while I leaned on my forearms, refusing to lay down flat on the ground. I was facing the ground while struggling to hold myself up. Mansk was towering above me, one hand still firmly holding my queue while the other pulled my left arm out from beneath me, pinning it down against the ground. 

“You mean the one time you wore almost nothin’?” he snarled, moving up my body and pressing his knee down on my leg to eliminate the possibility of me getting up. I sensed sarcasm when he brought up the ‘one time’, which was rare for Mansk to use.

His words confused me and I stopped struggling for a second to think about them. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I say, clearly distressed and resuming my fight of attempting to push him off. 

“Fuckin’ look at you. You wear nothin’ but this excuse of a bra and these tight shorts.” Mansk growled. Tight shorts? Someone’s been paying attention.

I did always wear the same type of clothes. Similar to Walker actually except that her pants were longer than mine. I didn’t think much of it because Na’vi wear loincloths and chest pieces that barely cover anything. So why should we?

Our bodies were different now, adapted to the climate of Pandora, not the air-conditioned base we stayed in. We were used to the warmth. 

I push myself up and off the ground with my right arm. 

“It’s weather appropriate.” I snap back, glancing over my shoulder as I pin my ears flat against my head. 

Mansk tightens his grip on my queue, tugging me up before almost slamming me down into the ground so that I was now pressed flat against it. 

“Well it’s not workplace appropriate.” he opposes, pushing his words through clenched teeth. 

I whine in pain while Mansk lets go of my wrist, placing his hand down on my shoulder. He was leaning on his arms which ensured that I would stay on the ground. 

“Oh I’m sorry does it bother you?” I murmur, trying to at least roll over. 

“Fuckin’ right it does.” he says and his hand is digging into the skin of my shoulder. I whimper in pain, arching my back to try and have him loosen his grip but he doesn’t. 

Luckily, my leg finds his tail, roughly slamming it down and trapping it between my foot and the ground. 

Mansk hisses through his clenched jaw, the pain making him retreated his abusing hands. I push myself forwards, lifting the leg that caused him the pain and kicking him in the side so that he would not be restraining my right leg anymore. I succeed, finally free from his grip again. 

“Why don’t you go and cry about it to Lyle.” I say, regaining my breath while resting on my hands and knees. Lyle was our team leader and often dealt with our complaints in the past. 

He looks up at me and I can tell he is raging. I’ve never seen Mansk this worked up before. No one has. 

His tail aggressively flicks behind him as he shakes his hand. “Lyle happens to like it.” he answers, spitting the words like venom. I raise an eyebrow in amusement. 

His words surprise me and I grin. “Maybe I should go to his room then.” I say, not thinking much of it. In my mind, I thought insults would get Mansk angrier but somehow the last sentence I spoke did. 

“...and tell him about what you’re do-” 

I don’t get to finish my sentence because Mansk is back on me. I try to back up but he’s too fast. I’m leaning back on my forearms once again, facing him. My leg attempts to kick him in the face and push him away but he dodges it and it slides over his shoulder. His left hand tightens around my calf, holding it in place on his shoulder. 

My eyes widen when I realise my mistake. I was stuck now.

He noticed my wide eyes and even through his anger, this little victory made him grin at me devilishly. 

“You ain’t goin’ anywhere.” he growled, flashing me his sharp fangs as his grin widened. I glared at him and then Mansk leaned further forward, making my leg bend rather uncomfortably. His free arms reached forward and he held down my other leg by digging his fingertips into the flesh of my thigh and holding it down. 

I hiss through clenched teeth at the pain from his tight grip. 

“Thought you were goin’ to put up a bigger fight than this.” he mocked me and I pushed the leg he was holding on his shoulder against him but to Mansk it just felt like a nudge. 

“Shut up, I was working out for over 2 hours you dick-” I start complaining, not giving up my struggle. He hushes me, placing his hand over my mouth to shut me up. I freeze, staring at him wide-eyed. What the fuck was he doing?

“See? I like you better when you’re not runnin’ your mouth like-” he starts to say, thinking I calmed down. I didn’t need to hear the stupid things he had to say and without hesitation I bit into his hand, letting my fangs scrape his skin and causing a scratch. 

Immediately his hand retreats and he holds it against his side, examining the scratch with perked ears. Then Mansk looks back at me and he’s angry again. 

“Try that again and you’ll lose a finger.” I snarl and his ears tip back. Somehow, I loved our new ears. They made it so easy to read one another. 

“You won, congratu-fucking-lations, let me go.” 

“Nah, don’t think so.” he growled and that devilish smirk was back on his face. “You need to be taught a lesson.”

I snort. “Me? The reason I’m a bitch to you is because you decided to be an ass since day one. And that for no reason at all.” 

“No reason?” he scoffs, digging his fingers deeper into my flesh to contain himself. 

“Yeah. I didn’t do shit and you’re acting like such a moron that-” 

“You fuckin’ distract me Y/N. Can’t do anythin’ when you’re around.” he snarls, making it sound like he’s spitting venom again. “I fuckin’ hate you, your big mouth and you’re poor excuse of fuckin’ clothes.”

My mouth drops open and I try to suppress laughter, but I won’t be able to hold it for long. 

Mansk despised so many things about you but not necessarily you. He hated how attracted he was to you and he blamed you for it. For, in his eyes, showing off your body. He was angered by his internal battle of trying to understand why he even felt attracted to an Avatar of a Na’vi. Mansk resents that he can’t get you out of his head and that once he sees you he can’t take his eyes off you. 

He was ready to fully devote himself to this mission and get it done once and for all but you are such a big distraction to him. You’re Mansk’s weakness and he used to swear to himself never to have one which makes his hatred for you worse. 

I’m biting my lip and looking at Mansk whose chest is heaving. I can see how he’s restraining himself from probably killing me but right now it just seems funny to me. 

“Goddamn, you could have bought me a drink first.” I laugh at him, releasing my lip which has my teeth marks imprinted in it. 

Soldiers like Mansk amused me and almost seemed stupid to a certain extent. Such a big intimidating man in the military losing a battle to his feelings because he never shares anything with anyone and of course one day it’s all got to come out. And when it does, it’s nasty like this. 

People like Quaritch would completely neglect mental health, focusing just on physical appearance and a strong survival mentality. Mansk was similar. The idea of talking to someone about his feelings made him think he was growing weak and that was the thing he dreaded the most. 

“If you’re so desperate for me you could have told me and-” 

Mansk can’t stand that. His right-hand releases my thigh and quickly wraps itself around my throat making me stop talking. 

“You keep talkin’ like that and I won’t be able to hold back.” he warns me. I examine the veins bulging out on his forearm, pumping blood through his body. His neck was strained and I could see his artery. He was really tensed up. 

“What makes you think I’d listen to you, jackass?” I snap back, refusing to let him intimidate me. 

Mansk can’t help himself anymore. You’re right there, laying beneath him.

He leans down, holding my head in place as I watch in confusion. His lips crash down against mine and after I realise what’s happening, my body seems to respond to him and I kiss him back. It’s not a nice kiss in any way. It’s harsh and our teeth clash at one point. I push his chest away from me, breaking the heated kiss and gasp for air. He seemed even more restless now.

Maybe deep down I was attracted to this menace of a man. 

“I’ll make ya listen.” he replies, once again flashing his fangs through a smug look. 

“I’d rather die.” I say, pulling my left leg which he let go back to my body. As I retreated it from beneath him and to me, my calf caressed his groin and Mansk tensed up. It took me a while to figure out what just happened and an extra few seconds to come to the conclusion that he was hard to the point that his erection strained his pants. 

My mouth drops open and I gulp before my gaze shoots up to him. He’s already looking at me and his ears have drooped but he didn’t let his harsh grip falter. This is definitely not what I expected. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I wheeze but he presses my throat tighter. 

The pressure he’s causing makes me uncomfortable and I slap him across the face, almost making his shades fly. Shock engulfs him for a good few seconds and I’m crawling away. 

I turn away from him, steadying myself on all fours as I prepare to stand but he’s quicker. In an instant, his hands are back on me and I’m unable to move forwards anymore. Mansk's palms close around my waist as he tugs me back to him. 

My ass comes in contact with his lower abdomen as he pulls me towards him and I gasp when I feel him press against me. 

“If you don’t move away in the next three seconds I will kill-” 

Before I can finish my sentence a stinging slap is delivered to the spot under my ass and above my thigh. 

I whimper, clenching my fists together. 

“You’re gonna keep you’re dirty lil’ mouth closed and take what I give you. Understood?” he said and I heard him unbuckle his belt. My pupils blew wider as his strong musk flooded my senses. 

“I’ll rip your tongue out you-” 

Another slap which hurt more than the previous one made me shut up. I clenched my eyes closed, suddenly feeling weak. My body seemed to be responding to his presence against my will, making me almost surrender. 

My arms and legs trembled and my tail was no longer hastily flicking around. It stilled and I pulled it under me and between my legs. 

His palm was once again holding my queue, grasping it so tightly it made me feel lightheaded. 

“Mansk, you asshole-” I murmur while one of my arms gives out beneath me. “You’re so dead.” 

My threats fly by him, not bothering the soldier at all. His long-denied emotions have collapsed in on him and that internal war of frustration triggered his new primal senses to come to light. Mine were becoming visible too and it seemed that there was no way to stop this.

My eyes seem to be burdened by a blurriness until Mansk’s touch brings me out of my haze. His free hand is feeling along the waistline of my sports shorts and with a few harsh tugs, he pulls them down my waist and legs along with my panties. My tail is pulled out of the cloth and I bare my fangs, hissing at him as the gym air comes in contact with my refused heat. 

Mansk groans, letting go of my queue and grabbing at the flesh of my hips and ass. I raise my tail, making it flick him in the face because I wasn’t giving up just yet. He growls, holding it down against me as he examines my heat-struck body. 

“Fuck…” he curses under his breath, exhaling shakily as he holds my thigh and makes me spread my legs wider. 

He hated you without a doubt, but fuck you looked so good to him. Everything about your body made him harder and suddenly you seemed so inviting to him, he couldn’t resist. 

My ears were pinned back as I was fighting my desire for him and I tried thinking of a way to fight him but my mind was blank at this point. 

I felt him let go of my hip and his right hand was placed on my shoulder, holding me steady. 

Without any warning whatsoever, Mansk brought his hand up to my shamefully dripping pussy, gliding two of his fingers between my folds. I whimper, hiding my face in my other shoulder while grimacing. I didn’t understand my body. 

He rubbed me and naturally, my legs spread wider and my hips followed his movements. 

Mansk wanted to say something but he didn’t know what. Your quarrelling feud was still very much ongoing, this was just an exceptional hiccup in the entire fight. One that couldn’t be prevented by either of you. 

Suddenly, Mansk pushed both his fingers into me and I jolted forwards at the unexpected intrusion. He kept me still by pulling me back with the hand on my right shoulder and now he leaned over my bent body, starting to finger me. Neither of us were thinking anymore. 

I whimpered, stretching my arms out in front of me so that I wouldn’t fall forwards. He wasn’t being gentle either. My body was rocking forwards every time his fingers bottomed out and his pace was rough. 

I hiss, baring my fangs again when I start feeling a form of pleasure. 

Mansk can’t resist you anymore. He has to take you whether you’re ready or not. If you continue to fight him, he’ll just be rougher. 

He pressed himself against my bare skin again, before pulling back and lining himself up with my entrance. I couldn’t even follow what he was doing, my mind was so clouded with lust. 

With one hard thrust, Mansk forced himself as deep into me as possible. I cried out in surprise and my body tensed at the foreign feeling. 

He groans, finally feeling pleasure wash over him. The long-needed feeling of euphoria was at last flooding his own senses and he needed his release more than anything. My walls were hugging him tightly because my Avatar had never done this before but it made him almost speechless.

“You look like a bitch in heat.” he snarled and I tipped my ears back. 

“You-”  

He pulled back, drawing his rock-hard dick out before snapping his hips forward once again and starting to fuck me at a brutal pace, making me unable to answer. 

I cried out again, not sure if it was in pain or pleasure this time. He wrapped my queue around his hand, making my head tilt back and my back arch against him. 

Mansk was losing himself inside you and he bent over you, pressing his chest against your back to ease his longing to be close to you. 

His arm was resting next to me as he held me in place, not letting his thrusts falter. 

His skin was slapping against mine, no doubt leaving mine reddened and flushed. He dug his fingers into my shoulder to contain and ground himself in reality and I snarled at him, baring through the pain. 

Something about the fact that you hated him but still let him do this really turned Mansk on. He wouldn’t be able to explain it but he definitely preferred this with you over soft sex. You didn’t deserve to be treated nicely, not when you dressed like that and talked to him in that way. 

I wanted to throw an insult at him but I couldn’t talk and neither could he. Grunts and pants filled the room as we still fought each other in a way. I leaned away from him, making the angle more difficult and in return, he held me so tightly his fingernails were close to cutting my skin. 

He would harshly tug me back and closer to him every time I somehow got loose until at one point, he leaned all his weight on me, no longer holding himself up with an arm. Both his arms wrapped around and beneath my body. One of them came up to my throat from between my arms while the other locked my body in place by tightly hugging my waist. 

Mansk’s head was buried in the crook of my neck as his panting fanned against my cheek. His eyes were closed while I was a whimpering mess, occasionally biting back the pathetic noises to hiss or snarl at him which I knew pissed him off more. Every time I did, he would fuck into me from behind even more relentlessly than before. 

I could tell he was close because his thrusts were no longer as sharp. He became more sloppy, mindlessly chasing his high as he pounded into my abused pussy. 

Mansk groaned, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes clenched closed. 

“Fuck- take it you dirty slut.” he growled. 

The hand around my throat tightened, making sure to keep me in place as he thrust into me the last few times. His body tensed and he forced himself as deep into me as possible. Mansk’s teeth bit down on the skin of my left shoulder and his fangs slightly tore the skin while his body shook. I felt him release and shoot his hot cum deep inside me as he held me closer and tighter than ever before, to ensure he’d stuff me full with as much of his load as possible. 

I moaned when I felt him fill me. It was something I had never felt before but fuck was it good. 

After about a minute, his tight grip loosened and he let his arms fall to the side. I finally inhaled properly while he steadied his own heavy breathing. 

Everything was so intense, neither of us could move for the next few minutes. He just stayed pressed on top of me, luckily supporting his weight this time while I let my head fall forwards. 

Even though I didn’t cum I was tired. Too tired to push him off or even walk to the showers. 

After a few minutes, Mansk had calmed down and slowly he lifted himself off of me. I felt him surprisingly gently pull out and I whimpered at the movement inside me. Everything felt bruised. 

My arms were trembling beneath me and I let myself fall to the side, finally relaxing. However, the heat between my legs remained. Even after all that cruel handling, my body felt needy. 

Mansk stayed kneeling behind me, looking down at me in pity. He felt a little guilty for what he had done. 

“Y’ alright?” he asked, placing his hand on my thigh as I lay on my side. My relaxed ears flatten back and he notices it all.

“No, you moron.” I snap back at him. Isn’t it obvious that I’m not at my best?

And just like that, all guilt and pity left Mansk’s body. You were clearly well enough to continue bickering. He also noticed how your tail restlessly thudded against the ground. Your scent was still strong, maybe even stronger than before which reminded Mansk that you didn’t cum.

“Aw, you want more don’t you?” he teased me, rolling me over on my back and moving my hands away from my face. He saw how flushed I was and that answered his question. 

“It wasn’t even good, loser.” I snarl, knowing it will get under his skin. But oddly it just made him chuckle. 

“Who were you moanin’ for then?” he asked with a smug grin on his face. An idea popped into my head and now I grinned at him. 

“Lyle could do it better.” I say and Mansk stills. I look at him trying to figure out whether he was thinking or whether he was genuinely hurt but that was difficult because he still had his damned shades on. 

“Mansk-” I say but within an instant, he’s on top of me. 

“I’ll make ya cum so hard you won’t be able to think about no one but me.” he hissed, and when I tried opening my mouth to respond he cut me off again and pressed our lips together. 

I huffed in annoyance, refusing to kiss him to see how much angrier he can get. 

Mansk wrapped his hand around my throat again, squeezing from the sides to cut off my air and blood flow for a few seconds. I gave in, kissing him back with as much lust and passion as I could. 

Without breaking the make out, Mansk trailed his hand down my body and spread my legs apart. I didn’t fight it this time. It seemed like a challenge to him. 

I lift my head and look between our bodies, my eyes going wide as I realise that Mansk is still hard. He pushes my head down by my neck, leaning over and sucking hickeys into the skin. I bite down on my lip, suppressing my noises which sound like muffled whimpers to him. 

He would make sure that even doing that won’t keep you quiet when he’s inside you again. 

Mansk pressed himself against my bare heat which was dripping with his cum. He ground his hips against me and I let my head drop back in pleasure and sighed. 

I felt his lips form into a grin against the skin of my collarbone. I still had my bra on because he was in too much of a hurry to take it off before. Mansk was completely naked on the other hand.

His teeth tugged at the strap of my sports bra before he leaned back and pulled it over my head. Without hesitation, he leaned back down, roughly groping my breasts and leaving a dark hickey above one. 

The grinding stopped when he pressed the tip of his leaking dick against my entrance again. Slowly he applied pressure, straightening himself and picking up my right leg to wrap it around his waist. I let him move me around because for whatever reason, I was convinced he wouldn’t make me cum. Not when I was already so sore. 

“Where’d your feral side go?” he teased, smirking down at me. I dramatically exhale to show my irritation. 

“I’m not fucking feral.” I hiss and he scoffs. 

“We’ll see.”

“I’m sorry do you want me to punch you?” I ask, looking up at him. 

“You won’t be able to in a sec.” he says and with that, he pushes himself back inside me. He enters me easier this time because we’re both coated in slick from the last round. 

My pupils grow wider at the feeling and I strain my ears back, not wanting him to see the hint of pleasure I just felt. 

Mansk still isn’t gentle because he has no reason to ‘make love’ to you. However, it’s not as brutal as before. 

He starts to thrust into me more precisely this time and my body tenses when it starts feeling good. Fuck. 

His tail found mine, making them wrap around each other while he focused on finding my weak spots. Mansk’s left hand held my thigh up on his waist as he pushed deeper each time until he started bottoming out on each thrust. 

My breathing grows heavy and I feel a small pressure build in me but it’s enough for me to resist. 

Mansk is eyeing me, watching my expressions and he notices how I’m fighting myself. He has a solution for that. 

While thrusting into me again, he lets go of my thigh which stays on him and his thumb circles my clit. 

I inhale sharply, pressing my lips together making him smirk. He slowly sped up the rhythm of his thrusts, letting his thumb brush over my clit every once in a while making me try to close my legs around him. 

I throw my head back and clench my eyes closed, realising that I’ll lose this silly bet and that if he doesn’t stop I will cum. 

Suddenly, he presses his thumb right against my clit and at the same time, his dick brushes up against my G-spot. He feels my walls clench around him briefly and I hiss, letting my mouth drop open. 

“There you are.” he growled, meaning my ‘feral side’. It seems that Mansk liked the animalistic noises we emitted. 

“Fuck-” I whimper, arching my back off the ground. He takes the hint, feeling a sense of pride in his chest as he continues doing exactly what he is. With each thrust, he applies a little more pressure on my clit and rubs under it and I’m gone. I’ll definitely lose. 

My hands grip his shoulder, needing to clutch something for support. Deep inside I’m angry at him and at myself for letting this happen and for having it feel so good. So to put up my rebellious message, I dig my fingernails into his back, clawing at the skin in a desperate attempt to contain my pleasure. 

Mansk growls, leaning forwards and once again resting his head in the crook of my neck. He licked over the area he bit into last time and then nibbled on the skin around it, tracing his fangs along it in a threatening manner. 

Tears sting the corners of my eyes, slowly threatening to spill. Mansk looks up at me and grins at the sight. 

“Such a needy little thing.” He coos and I know he’s making fun of me. 

“You started it-” I sniffle and almost sob in pleasure. “...you idiot.” I can’t think of any good insults or comebacks. 

I hiss when he bites down a little more than he should on my neck and I take it as a warning. 

“C’mon, stop fightin’ it and cum f’ere me.” he mumbles, placing a kiss on my neck. He doesn’t stop his actions and I know it’ll all be over in a few seconds. 

“No-” I whimper, and at this point, I’m begging myself not to come more than I’m telling him. I hate how good he’s making me feel. But it doesn’t matter because, with the next thrust, I’m seeing stars. 

“Mansk-” I almost scream, clenching my legs around his waist and throwing my head back. My fingers are still, digging into his back one final time as my own body shakes and my eyes roll to the back of my head. 

He rides out my orgasm, extending it for as long as possible. 

I’m mindlessly mumbling his name over and over again. 

Finally, I come down and my body goes limp beneath him. My chest is heaving and when I look up at him, Mansk has the biggest shit-eating grin on his face. Instantly I frown which makes him chuckle. 

“You still mad?” he asks and I stare at him in disbelief. 

“Until you grow the balls to apologise, yeah.” I reply, wiping my hand over my forehead. My language and attitude being present after all that amazes him. 

He smiles with a sigh before speaking. “I’m sorry.” he says but I shake my head. 

My hand lifts up to his face and I push his shades up onto his head so that I can see him properly. “I don’t think you mean it.” 

He drops his head in defeat before facing me again. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot to you.” he says and I smile, satisfied. 

“Are you into me?” I ask but he doesn’t answer. “Because if yes, than this is not the way you should approach things.” I laugh and he smiles to himself, feeling unsure. 

“Yeah..” he mumbles, wondering whether he should apologise again. He wasn’t good at these conversations. 

I sigh, knowing I’ll have to deal with this emotional wreck from now on. To ease his thoughts I pull him down by his dog tag and this time I initiate the kiss. Mansk melts into it, holding my cheek and when we pull away he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. 

“You have to help me up, I don’t think I can make it to my room.” I say and he grins, nodding and getting up. Mansk gently pulls me to my feet and accompanies me in the shower. It was nice, finally seeing this side of him. 

He let me touch him and purred when I washed his back of some dried blood. 

Since everyone was asleep we managed to sneak into his room and we fell asleep together. Who knows how much longer we’ll be around to experience this.

Tag list: @ikranwings @number1gal @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed

[midnight--sadness]

Maybe it's obvious, but I love the idea that when omega Gi-hun gets pregnant Geum-ja takes care of him like she did with Jun-hee, but In-ho tries to keep her at a distance because of overprotective instincts due to Gi-hun's pregnancy and the trauma of losing the baby, but Geum-ja just hits his shoulder/pinches his ear and admonish him like a child, like "boy, I've been delivering babies longer than you've been alive and I know how to take care of pregnant, calm down and let a woman do her job" and In-ho can't even say anything to her because he respects her and Gi-hun just sits on the bed next to him and chuckles a little and that's all In-ho needs to calm down (for now)

(I'm sorry, that's probably bad, I used google translator).

no, don't apologize, it's perfect!! 🥰🥰🥰

inho would definitely have trauma around gihun's entire pregnancy - he's already lost one child and his omega at the time, he'd go crazy (or crazier) if it happened again. having geumja around would calm him down though; she is experienced and clearly knows what she is doing in regards to the pregnancy.

it only calms him down slightly tho, he is still an overprotective alpha and he doesnt budge on certain things even if gihun looks at him with this face 🥺

[prettymrswright]

Lockdown. Pt 2

pairing: koffee!singer x black fem!choreographer/artist

content warnings: smuttt baby, off the bat! 😂 it was highly requested for Koffee, so as an artist I must deliver. a lot of patois (Koffee is from Spanish Town, she has a strong JA accent).,fluff, strong language, spirituality, art.

a/n: dusting off the pen and paper, (or should i say keyboard), and this was requested the most, so we start here. also, she has a new masterlist design 🤭!!! shout out to my baby, @dejaonline the creator and visionary of my carrd. my taglist is on there if you want to sign up for a specific person or take yourself out of one!!! i missed writing, so this should be fun. love you wh^res <3

translations:

did - past tense

don't? - right? / isn't it?

A suh - so/how

eno - you know

mek - let

ramp - play/ play around

Jah/ Jah Jah - God

yah - here

Gyalis - player/ ladies (wo)man

guh - go

taglist: @dejaonline @prophetalmighty @saintwrld @sapphicvqmpires @inmyheadimobsessed @kisskourt @shurislover @ventingfanfics @vampzxi @abenomeiiii @koffeewife @bbbbbbrilliantly @shuriislut @sopaintercrown @billyjeanonthed

LOCKDOWN PART 1. < if you haven’t read :)

Her mid-back length locs hung down, framing your face as she rocked into your clit, her firm hands gripping you in place. She had her warm, dark brown eyes locked with yours, her bottom lip trapped by her top row of teeth.

"Fuck, Mikayla," You cried out, eyes welling up with tears from the multiple sensations she was giving you. She kissed your slightly parted lips and down the side of your neck.

Your moans and cries flew through her ears like music she loved, encouraging her every action. Her fingers interlocked with yours as she pinned them by your sides, continuing to fluidly move across your center.

"Mhm," You moaned through sealed lips, trying to contain its volume, but it was no use.

"Open up, pretty girl," The singer demanded, and you shortly obliged. She sat up tall and slipped two of her slender fingers inside your creamy center, pumping with precision. If you weren't going to get loud, she would surely make you.

She didn't care for your shy act. She wanted the sex to embody exactly what it was made for; passion. Be loud, be raunchy. If she decided to make love to you, it was with full intention.

She stroked her fingers long and deep inside you, her other hand massaging your right nipple.

"Oh my god," you breathed out as you felt your mouth began to water. You reached your hand out to place it on her chiseled stomach, in attempts to slow her pace, but she smacked it away.

"Doh touch me." She spat. "A dis yuh did want, don't?"

She teased and you whined. You did want her, God did you ever.

You feel yourself creaming around her fingers, and as much as it was, you never wanted it to stop.

"That is it, mumma, yes," She encouraged the beginning of your release. "Let it go fi mi."

Your voice traveled the room as you came harder from the rich, raspiness of her voice. She was trying to draw you out, and it was working.

You grabbed her hand and licked yourself clean off her fingers, still making noise and staring her directly in her eyes.

"Mm," She gave a hum of arousal at the sight. "A suh you wicked?"

You heartily chuckled at her astonishment. Before she could react further, you pushed her off of you and onto the bed. You locked your legs between hers, ass facing her, giving her a rear view of your ride.

You bounced up and down on all fours, riding her clit, back deeply arched. You felt the secretion of the two of you building and sloshing against each other.

“Shit,” She exclaimed, mesmerized by the movement of your ass. She sent a sharp pop upside it, making it shake even more. “You feel so good, y/n.”

You looked back at her and smiled devilishly. Provoked by your gesture, she pulls you back by your hips and drives hers up against yours at a faster pace.

“Ohhh, shit!” You yelled. “Fuckkk, yes, don’t stop, please!” You begged, riding the high of your warm clits colliding and her soft, strong hands gripping your sides, thumbs settled in your back dimples.

“Aghhh,” She groaned, her clit beginning to twitch underneath you. “Mm, mm, no,” She shook her head and pinned you down. She wasn’t quite ready for her release. A bit into edging, but more-so for maximum release.

She kept one hand pinning your stomach down to the bed, grabbing her strap from off the dresser and slipping it on with the other. She rubbed your entrance slightly before heading in, no lubricant needed, the way she had your water running.

“Baby,” you whined out, slightly in panic. It had been a minute, but the last time she put this on you, you were in an over 24 hour recovery. She was dangerous, but you liked danger.

“Shhh,” She whispered in your ear, grabbing a handful of your hair, slightly craning your neck. “Yuh fi tek dis. Wul’ on to me.”

She folded one arm behind your back and held your forearm while she held yours. Swiftly, she slid her length up into you.

“Sssshit!” You hissed, feeling woozy at its depth. “I can’t, baby I can’t.”

“Believe inna yuh self, miss,” She chuckled, before stroking your middle, mid-tempo.

You reached your hand back, pressing your hand back onto her chiseled stomach, and quickly you’d realize that was a mistake. She now had both of your arms pinned and was now picking up her pace.

Your body began to sweat profusely and your legs began to quiver underneath her.

“Mmmm, fuck!” Your moans being drowned out in the pillow your face was stuffed in, the cloth held captive between your teeth. “‘Kayla, please,”

“Memba yuh did wan run weh from me? Hmm?” She antagonized, pumping deeper and faster.

“No, please,” You plead and plead. “Please, baby I’m sorry,”

It was clear she was holding more of a grudge than you thought, and you were certainly paying for it right now.

She hiked you up, forcing your back to her chest, and your ear to her lips.

“Don’t do that to me, again.” She sternly warned, sending shivers down your spine. Overtaken and out of breath, all you could do was nod.

In a quick motion she slid out and turned you over. Your doe eyes, full of lust and adornment, were staring directly up at her. She stared back intently and smiled.

“Mi did miss yuh pretty face, eno,” She confessed. Without giving you time to respond, she was inside you again.

“I—“ You gasped out, clawing at her arms that were pinned at your sides. She held your knees to your chest and gave you long, deep strokes, kissing up and around your legs.

“Oh my goddd,” Your head drops back and your eyes follow, rolling into your lids. You haven’t felt this good since you seen her last. It was like the first time all over again. Every stroke, every kiss, every whisper; you constantly had to fight not to blurt out those three words.

The way she looked, the way she felt, the way she prioritized your body’s every demand made you feel the sluttiest you could ever.

You held your middle and index finger up over her lips and smoothed them across them, and she lubricated them with her saliva, lightly sucking on your digits. You slide those fingers down to your clit and massage small, quick circles into it.

You feel your mouth begin to water at the combination.

“Yesss, just like that, baby, keep fucking me,” You encourage her sinisterly, directly staring into her face. “You make me feel so good,”

You didn’t give a fuck anymore. You missed her, it’s been months, and you were over the games. This was the side she so desperately wanted to see.

“Shit,” she grunted under her breath, strokes getting sloppier the wetter you became. “I love seeing you play with that pretty pussy, baby.” She affirmed you, making your moans spill out quicker.

She replaced your hand with hers, caressing your clit with her thumb, bringing her body down to level with yours. She kissed you slowly and passionately, still keeping the pace of both her stroking and massaging.

You moaned loudly into her mouth, wrapping your arms around her, digging your nails into her back. The pleasure was so overwhelming yet so blissful.

“I’m so close, ‘kay, don’t stop,” You whined, squirming under her touch.

“This is all yuh did want, ee? Fi di artist come fuck you?” She teased. “All you had to was ask.”

The more cockier she became the more it turned you on. It was impossible to keep quiet or still. You began to see stars, the way she was pounding your g.

“You want to come? Ask me.” She taunted you.

“Please make me come, baby, I’ve been so good,” Your mouth was moving faster than your brain. All of your words were rushed and desperate. Each of your fingers seeking deeper in her back.

She wrapped her hand around your neck and pulled your forehead to hers, speeding up her final strokes.

“Unhhh, yesss!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as your love came down, creaming all over her length before she slid out.

Your chest heaved up and down, as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Mek mi clean this up for you,” She lowered her lips. to your center and licked you clean, devouring you with her whole mouth, ending her sweep with a slow french kiss.

“Oh, baby,” you whined out, rubbing your fingers through her locs and grabbing a handful. You guide her head left and right in a figure 8 motion, leading her to shake her head in it.

She rocked your hips into her face, sucking your bud, draining the rest of your secretion out.

Tears involuntarily streamed down your face, as you semi-hyperventilated. You pulled her up to you, kissed her deeply, and wrapped your arms around her in a warm embrace.

“Yuh alright?” She asked half sincerely, half in amusement.

“I love you,” You blurt out, not expecting a response.

She erupted in a high-pitched cackle. “You funny eno, yuh ramp too much,”

You smile brightly, eyes still almost shut. “I’m serious!”

“Gyal get the steel pipe, and wan chat bout ‘love’” She continued, still laughing.

“Shut up, Mikayla,” You couldn’t help but laugh too. The jokester she was.

“Mi ago give yuh a second, eno, but mi wan yuh fi get dressed,” She says to you, hinting at another one of her shenanigans.

“Dressed? Fi wha?” You say back in patois, semi-mimicking her.

“I wanna show you something. Something i’ve been working on,” She says, sincerely.

You tense up anxiously. “Okay…”

“It’s not anything bad, nuh worry yuhself,” She reassures you, in attempts to calm your nerves.

$ Walking out the hotel in your black, Chanel mini dress, and your black and gold Yves Saint Laurent heels (gifted by Koffee), you head to the car, hand in hand with the artist. She walks with you over to the passenger door side and opens it for you, helping you inside.

After she closes your door, you watch her 5'6 frame walk to the driver side, dressed in a powder blue, mid-sleeved, collared button down, the first three buttons open, slightly exposing her chest. Her legs decorated in some baggy leather pants, that slightly covered her baby blue, designer sneakers. Her locs were neatly compacted up into a bun, gold jewelry hanging from her neck, and wrists. If it wasn't for whatever she was attempting to show you, you'd pull her right back in that hotel. "Yuh ready?" She asks, quickly smiling and your direction while starting up the engine. You smile and nod sweetly and the two of you drive off. The sun didn't begin to set quite yet, but it was at it's golden hour, shining bright and beautiful hues of yellow, orange, and gold down from the sky blue skies and through the windshield of Koffee's 2022 Midnight Gray Lexus ES. You were riding through the city of Ocho Rios, taking scenic view of all of nature around you; trees and bushes blowing through the wind. You'd be flying back home soon, so you wanted to be completely present. You slid and placed your hand onto the back of her neck, massaging it with your fingers, and you felt the tiny baby hairs stand up. Koffee loved how touchy-feely you were and always returned the favor. She slid her right hand, currently decorated with a 18k gold signet ring, gifted by her grandfather, up your thigh and held you in her grip. As you pass more and more tall buildings and music shops, you began to get curious. The two of you would often parlay on the beaches and spend all evening/night and sometimes, even early mornings. But this was a new side of town. It seemed more industrial. "Mikayla," You spoke in a questioning tone. "Hm?" She replied plainly. "Where we going?" You ask. "You'll see." She replies, that smile she had been showing so often this trip appearing once again.

Pulling up to a complex, you park right in front of a building with ‘Columbia’ written in gold letters across the top. You feel an anxiousness in your stomach once you start to realize where you were.

“Come on,” She gestured as she went to open the door. “Hold on," you say quickly, stopping her from opening the door. You pull down the sun visor mirror and prep up your appearance. You adjust your gold heart pendant necklace and smooth out your braids. You reapply your Fenty gloss bomb lipgloss and blot. You lift your foot up and rest the end of your heel on the dashboard, adjusting your shoe strap and your single-plated gold anklet that was resting so pretty on your ankle. “Girl, come on,” She rushed you semi-jokingly, despite her being in a daze previously to. “Okay, okay, how do I look?” You turn to her and fake a pose, framing your face. She took a long, studious look at you, examining you swiftly but diligently. She hummed in approval. “Sexy.”

“Perfect. Let’s go!” You laugh, grabbing your purse. Koffee comes out of the car, rushing over to you to open your door and take your hand to lift you up and out and lead you into the building. It was huge. Tall lobby ceiling, marble floors, futuristic colors. It was like a hotel lobby of a nightclub, if such a thing existed. She signs the two of you in, and you walk into the elevator and ride up to the 22nd floor. She leads you into a room that she opens with her own key that hung off her hip. You audibly gasp at the sight of what you saw before you. It was her studio. And it was beautiful. There was a long white mixing console, two large white speakers next to it and a computer in the middle. A large booth, next to a small one, both with mics, headphones, and other equipment set up. The room was dimly lit with midnight purple and fuschia colored lights. Across each wall were plaques of achievements from various artists. There were long, white couches on each side of the room, and tall stool chairs spread out across it. In between the two booths, up against the wall were a lineup of different guitars.

You slowly strolled through the room, taking everything in. You looked to your left and noticed a pretty, black bouquet of pink glitter roses, Ghiradelli chocolates, a card, and a fat stack of cash sitting on a low table.

“Wha–” Before you could even ask what the purpose of those were, she interrupted you. “Once Shelley told me you were coming, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. I missed you, y/n/n. And I’m serious about you.” She confesses, holding her glance, as well as your hand. “Kay,” You called out her nickname, feeling your eyes well with tears. She was so sweet and thoughtful. And all this time you were blocking your blessing, and for what? “Doh start,” She chuckled. “Jah. This crybaby, yah.” And you were. But you felt everything so deeply, and as in awe as you were, you were also sad; Somewhat regretful even, for driving a wedge between you two because of your own insecurities. “Thank you, baby.” You thank her with a heart full of love and gratitude. You wrapped your arms around her neck and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “How romantic. Miss Gyalis.” “Please,” She started. “Me anuh Gyalis, and you aren’t just ‘gyal’ to me.”

You studied her face, admiring both her beauty and her words. “Come,” She led you to the seats in front of the computer and pulled up a song. “Tell me what you think about this.” The song began and the summery, mid-tempo beat flowed out of the speakers and filled up the room.

Where will we go?

When di quarantine ting done and everybody touch road?

Mommy, me go NASCAR

Pull up in a fast car, yeah

A nuh false start

Mek you and di boss par, yeah

I know you’re feeling me

You know I’m feeling you

So what now we fi do?

You swayed back and forth and slightly nodded your head. She was so good at what she did. Every song made you feel good, like a fun summer night. You didn’t even notice what it really was about at first.

Yeah, yeah

Aye fancy

How yuh heart stay, it nah no vacancy?

Last time see yuh pon FaceTime

Chatting up di place

Bout you nuh want relationship

Me a go put you pon lock down

A put yuh body pon lockdown, mmm

You got me pon lock now

You got my passion on lock, woah

She turned to you, lip syncing her own lyrics at you.

If you love me

You should let me

You should let me

You should let me know

And if you don’t know

Better fi let me

Better fi let me

A better yuh let me go

You took in every word, flattered at its insinuating dedication, but shocked at her confession. Sure you knew she liked you, but not like this. You also didn’t want to assume. It was hard to take in.

All yuh want talk bout a matrimony, yeah

Any ting yuh want Koffee got di money, yeah

Me give yuh me heart beg yuh take it from me

She dramatically mimicked the lyrics, clutching her chest and kneeling at your feet, making you laugh. She was cute. And the song was really damn good. 

Baby are you feeling me?

Cause I'm really feeling you

Baby are you feeling me?

Cause I'm really feeling you

I'm a pull up in my fast car You were silent for a while as the song outro faded out. You were speechless. You stared for a while, going through about every emotion and thought you had the past few months. You’d open your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “That bad, huh?” She asked comically.

“No!” You rushed out. “It was.. beautiful.” You look around you, still finding the words. “When did you-?”

“Early April. Last time mi did hear from you was March, and mi stop call from den. Mi feelings hurt bad bad. So I took up the pain and drive guh a studio wid it.”  “Oh,” You say lowly. “Kay, I’m sorry. I mean, not totally because, you just made a HIT song– yes I said hit— AND it’s about me, so that’s double whammy right there.”

She laughed heartily, leaning back in her chair. “You ramp too much.” “All jokes aside, though. I was in my head so much that I didn’t give you a chance to show me how much you cared. Truthfully cuz I felt like I cared too much. I was anticipating getting hurt, and that wasn’t fair to you or myself.” She looked down and nodded in agreement. “Mi just glad seh you found your way back to me, baby.” She placed a warm, caring kiss on your cheek. “And I love you too.” 

You left your chair and opted for a seat on her lap, resting your arm around her back and on her shoulder. “Play it for me, again?” You asked with a beaming smile. She returned a beaming one back to you before pressing the play button on the mixing console in front of her, holding you tighter the second time around.

[ilynpilled]

i feel like ive seen too many very odd reads of this whole thing, so i do wanna go through jaime & the brutal murder of rhaegar and elia’s children situation.

first of all, we know jaime’s main function as a kingsguard at 15: he is a pawn in aerys and tywin’s beef. he is a hostage and a means to rob tywin of an heir

this is what rhaegar tells him too. despite jaime’s guilt, it was not a “i am leaving everything in your hands 💔 you are my most trusted knight” being said to an unseasoned teen, rhaegar isn’t dense, but a: “he is tywin’s son, he is the ideal hostage to keep him under control. a crutch for aerys and his dangerous paranoia (even if just to satiate him, which is why he was kept close, again, people knew that aerys was erratic atp.)” we have the actual conversation. rhaegar is open about this, he isnt really tricking jaime here. they also emphasize that he has to stay near aerys. that is his primary role, not anything else. what rhaegar didn’t take into consideration is that tywin, when it comes down to it, will sack the city anyway (neither did he know what would happen at the trident, and how badly the tides will turn, how it will affect aerys and how he will think he was betrayed by lewyn and dorne, how he will not let elia and the children leave etc), the stakes are too great for house lannister and we know tywin will not pick the losing side. it is already a pretty grim situation for jaime, who had witnessed the brutal executions of a bunch of people at this point, to be left alone in the hands of a mad man as someone who eventually becomes solely responsible for the red keep, while also being functionally a hostage while his father decides to betray the crown, but of course, aerys has a bigger plan to retaliate and therefore jaime also has bigger things to worry about.

jaime feels guilt and responsibility about the whole thing anyway, and the way it is read in the most bad faith way imaginable is kind of odd to me. the dream is extremely integral. it reveals things to us that jaime pushes down as a narrator. it peels off the layers. first of all, jaime is explicit about ned’s judgement, the kingslayer complex, and the role that played, and his concious expects ned to show up in the dream as well, but it is revealed to be not actually about that. he, and that external source of judgement and scorn, is not the thing that haunts him. we see that it is a deep sense of failure over being unable to triumph over contradictions. he reflects on this after the dream too: “it was not him. it was never him.” and the message is deliberately delivered by the ghosts of the people that embody that initial quixotic view of the world that he had as a boy.

i have seen people claim that the “light dimming” is meant to indicate jaime lying about not knowing (being aware that tywin can be very brutal and is capable of hurting innocents is different from jaime knowing or suspecting this order). even if that wasnt contradicted in the text (ill get to this), it doesnt seem to work with the dream? the fires also gutter out when he gets condemned for killing the king right after, there is no clear him “lying” consistency here. and even if you go by that interpretation, the flame is unaffected by the claim of “i was with the king”, which would then have to be true (and it is—so again what is jaime meant to do here?) because we know the scaling of maegor’s holdfast was happening simultaneously with aerys being murdered and the wildfire plot being stopped. the main function of this part of the dream is jaime’s light, a “romantic burning out” as george puts it, being destroyed by contradictory oaths and a fundamentally unjust and cynical world. the light being withered is about losing hope & purpose, and failing to keep vows that actually matter. rhaegar’s children, his guilt over them, and the oath they embody (protect the weak, defend the innocent) plague his mind. the “I never thought he’d hurt them” is relevant in a different way. jaime is guilty of being an extension of the lannister regime. he is guilty of enabling it. and this is more relevant to him after this event, in the present. the whole dream operates on three levels: past, present, and future.

it is why this idea comes up with the tysha situation as well. whether he knew or considered it at the time (and i do not personally think he did, or it was compartmentalized) or not is not whats truly relevant. i think the point that is being emphasized is that tywin and his legacy is something that has to be rejected entirely in the present. he knows by now inarguably. no more “looking without seeing.” this justification does not work anymore. anyway, the point is that his light goes out because of the terror of being confronted with these contradictory oaths and impossible situations where these heavy choices have to be made, with devastating costs. the vows cannot compromise. these are situations and choices that destroy a nonexistent ideal that he had always romanticized in every aspect of his life. it is a culmination of the build up of everything jaime held close to his heart being torn down during those two years serving in the kingsguard. it is about the conflict between ethics and morals: “In some queer way, that had been worse than Lord Chelsted’s screaming. “We are sworn to protect her as well,” Jaime had finally been driven to say. “We are,” Darry allowed, “but not from him.” & “After, Gerold Hightower himself took me aside and said to me, “You swore a vow to guard the king, not to judge him.”

but this situation is intentionally impossible in every aspect. morals and ethics conflict. we have the obvious of what do you do when killing the king breaks the oath you swore to protect him? what if not doing it means breaking the oath to protect the innocent? what if your heroes condemn you despite you telling them the full context of this dilemma and make the fire gutter out permanently? what if being with the king (be it to protect him or kill him to save a city) means you are not there to protect the children from your own father (who you are also sworn to obey)? the moral constructs that this society operates with is nonsense, and it is not confronted by people. can the horrors be fought at all? this is how you have someone described as a “very idealistic young man” by george turn into the amoral bitter cynic we see in the actual series who proceeds to revolve his life around another delusion instead, the only one that remains to him, and loses his own moral code due to how extremely it all conflicts with all code of ethics. it results in a cowardly acceptance of the horrors, his selfishness and faux nihilism, and leads to the enablement and perpetuation of evil.

there is a reason this whole thing haunts jaime and his narrative, and starts blending together with the starks in adwd (something jaime is directly accountable for), and is a huge factor when it comes to jaime effectively contradicting tywin’s dogma when he goes with brienne. jaime became that “knight” in many ways, he, by his own admission, became the smiling knight, who he later also labels “the mountain of my boyhood.” but he is not anymore, which is why there are notable anti parallels in that chapter.

when it comes to how much jaime knew back then, i think the text is pretty clear:

1. if jaime knew or suspected that tywin had the massacre of an entire family already in motion the hope of “leaving to make terms” would not really be there. 2. after he is found, crakehall informs him that they secured the city and the castle. jaime points out in retrospect that this was only half true, and that he couldn’t have known about the scaling (and other things) still happening by this point. jaime is under the impression that everything is secured as a result. he orders everyone who yields to be spared. he is also under the impression as per his narration that aegon is still there, safe and alive, and could be a potential king. however, he does become concerned about the possibility of another aerys. there is a reason he climbs the throne here imo. i never read this as “jaime too busy fucking around lol” or “is intentionally letting them die because his blood is in both of them.” again, he orders everyone who yields spared, and is under the impression that the castle is already secured. he even entertains the possibility of tywin being hand to aegon as king (clearly not possible with what is in the middle of happening —and if he even suspects this threat, why is this considered a possibility by him?) until he gets an aerys flashback, and decides against it despite it serving his family. he has a lot of things on his mind right now anyway to figure out tywin’s current strategy when it comes to house lannister (not to mention this is not really how jaime’s brain works, he is not very machiavellian minded) considering he just damned himself by committing one of the most significant oathbreakings in history, and that someone will fill the hole left by the person who had the power to nuke a city, something that jaime has nightmares about nearly 20 years later. and even if he was aware of this threat that he clearly wasn’t, considering the fact that it was happening simultaneously with jaime killing aerys and being found, if he knew and tried to rush over there after killing aerys, judging from the distance, it would have been too late. hence “i was with the king…” in the dream.

[howlingday]

Funny moments from sonic zombies but with rwby characters.

(by the way if not seen sonic zombies)

https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.youtube.com/watch%3Fv%3D2Py2TdM_DVw&ved=2ahUKEwjksa63srKHAxV7EEQIHaH-BXAQwqsBegQIDxAE&usg=AOvVaw23ZoHEXf2U1j38wUCdX8N3

Here you go

Oh, I have certainly seen Sonic Zombies, Hooba Dooba...

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It was the night before Non-Descript Winter Holiday, and all through the town, not a creature was stirring... HA! Except for Ruby on her Segway! Ha ha! Ngh... D-Dammit...

Ruby: Douching through the snow~!

Ruby: Riding my Segway~!

Ruby: Which I shouldn't have~!

Ruby: Because the company went under~! Hee-hee~!

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Weiss: (Talking to a pile of bratwurst) Und den, Helga grew up, und she didn't have to vurk at Disney anymore. Und vutt did ve learn? If you go to vurk at Disney, you might have a job! Ich liebe dich~! (Kisses pile) Ich liebe dich, gut nacht~! Gut nacht, liebchens~!

Weiss: Oh, und vutt are you all doing over here?

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

Blake: (Sighs)

Ruby: (Zipping around) Whoa! Whoa-ho-ho~! Radical, dude~! (Knocks down camera) Whoa- OOOOOOOOOOGH!

Ruby: Hey, Blake! What's with you? You look like you could use some Chips Ahoy!

Blake: (Sighs) Oh, Ruby, I miss Jaune. We were so close...

Ruby: Yeah, we all miss him. I mean, not really, but yeah. I agree.

Blake: ...You know what, Ruby? You remind me of Jaune.

Ruby: (Dressed like Jaune) Gee, I... wonder why.

Blake: Ruby, I think I'm falling in love with you~.

Ruby: You know what this means~! I'm getting laid, only at your Wal-Mart~!

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Oscar: Now, see here's the master plan! I took all of Weiss' bratwurst to summon demons! I'm gonna bring those zombies back and with it- (Camera flies) OOOOOOOOOGH!

Oscar: Oh, dear zombie lords, come to me because I need help! If I can take over the world, people will actually respect me! (Shakes) WHOOOOOA~!

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Jaune: Since you're a vampire, you're not going to try to suck our blood, are you?

Yang: Naw, man, I just drink cherry and grape soda. More importantly, the only way we can kill Ruby as a Rose-Hound is if we weaken her first.

Pyrrha: And how are you going to weaken her~?

Yang: Well, we need to find us a fine, sweet-ass bitch to take care of her, because if she does her, then she'll be vulnerable, and if she's vulnerable, I can take care of the rest, man~!

Jaune: Well, if we're going to do that, then I volunteer YOU to do it.

Blake: Hang on now! Why should I do it?! Because I'm a woman?!

Weiss: Oh, nein, nein, nein, Fraulein Blake~! You are ze most beautiful, kindest, sweetest, most gentle woman in the world. You are so sveet~!

Blake: Aw, do you mean that, Weiss~?

Yang: Naw, you just got a big ass!

Weiss: Ja, ja, pretty much.

Pyrrha: Uh, I think maybe I should go, too, because, I mean, she might find a two-for-one special more appealing! You know, like buy one, get one free~?

Jaune: Okay, Pyrrha, you can go, too. But this is going to be very dangerous. In fact, you could die from her doing you too hard!

Pyrrha: God, I hope she does~!

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Blake: Okay, I'm going to get some champagne. Does anyone want some?

Nora: NO~! LET ME DO IT~! HUAH HUAH HUAH~!

Nora: (Pouring glasses) Huah huah~! I love the holidays because it means I can get drunk~! Jingle bells, la la la~!

Nora: Huh...? (Turns) AUGH?!

Ren: Ahoy there! We're from IKEA, come to deliver a bed for you~! Hoo hoo hoo~!

Blake: Oh, my bed is finally here~! The bed will be right upstairs, and, well, since it's the holidays, why don't you stay for the party?

Ren: That would be quite swell~! Hoo hoo hoo hoo~!

Winter: If it's not too much trouble, then we would be happy to partake.

Blake: (Sighs) Don't you just love Non-Descript Winter Holiday? It's a time for friends, and family, and getting together~.

Jaune: You know, I really thought something bad was going to happen tonight, but I'm really glad it didn't!

Yang: Man, nothing bad happens on motherfuckin' Non-Descript Winter Holiday!

Weiss: Unless you have the spoiled kids who don't get the right colored iPhone.

Nora: HA HA~! NO MORE CHAMPAGNE~! (Hiccups, Falls) I DRANK IT ALL~!

Ruby: Ha ha~! A drunk white girl at a party~!

And so, there was no more RWBY Zombies. Just RWBY and their friends, all having a wonderful time...

Yang: (Sighs) It's real pretty tonight. Kinda lonely, but... I dunno...

Winter: Ms. Belladonna? Ms. Belladonna, your bed is- Oh! Excuse me, you're not Ms. Belladonna.

Yang: (Blushes) Uh, n-no, no, I'm not! I'm Yang! Um, who are you, er, gorgeous?

Winter: I am Winter, and it is a pleasure to meet you.

Yang: Y-Yeah, nice to meet you, too! Hey, you wanna go get a drink with me, motherfucker?

Winter: (Giggles) That would be delightful. Please, lead the way~.

Jaune: Well, Blake, it's time for me to go. It's been fun, but I have a kitty-cat to scrub.

Blake: Oh, are you sure you can't stay a little longer~?

Jaune: (Sighs) Yes, I know you want to have sex with me, but... Well, audience, it's time for me to go. It was fun while it lasted. But all good things must come to an end. (Leaves) EXCEPT ME! I WILL LIVE FOREVER~! HUEHUEHUEHUE~!

Jaune: Oh, I had a kitty on Non-Decript Winter Holiday~!

Jaune: And I'm going to scrub it~!

Pyrrha: Well, Weiss, everyone's hooking up tonight except us. Wanna get a little... desperate~?

Weiss: EXCUSE ME, I HAVE A BULL FAUNUS HUSBAND WITH EIGHT CHILDREN! You disgust me! (Leaves) YUCK!

Pyrrha: (Sighs) I'll never get laid by someone with a big weiner...

Oscar: Hyuck~! Actually, I'm hung like a elephant~!

Pyrrha: OOH-HOO-HOO~! THAT MEANS YOUR DICK IS FIVE FEET LONG~! C'MERE~!

Ruby: Well, Blake, everybody else hooked up tonight. Except you and me. Maybe we can go in your bedroom so you can hooba my dooba finally~?

Blake: Actually, Ruby, that's why I invited you~.

Ruby: HOOBA DOOBA~?! OOHOOHOOHOO~! HOOBADOOBADOOBA~! I can't believe it! This is gonna be the best RWBY Zombies ever because I finally get laid~!

Blake: Yeah, why do you think I bought a new bed~?

Ruby: I-I dunno, maybe you shit in the last one- I MEAN, I DON'T KNOW HOOBA DOOBA~!

Blake: Well, Ruby, before we do it, there's one thing I need to tell you about~. Promise you won't leave~?

Ruby: Uh... You are a chick, right? I mean, dicks are fine, but...

Blake: No, I'm definitely a woman, through and through. But there's a little secret I have to tell you~.

Ruby: Um... Okay, I'm ready!

Blake: Ruby, I'm not a Cat Faunus. I'm actually

A DEMON THAT'S GOING TO DEVOUR YOUR SOUL!

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

"WAAAGH!" Ruby shot up from the couch with a start. Panting, she whirled around, hoping she truly was awake. Confirming her reality, she placed a hand to her chest and sighed.

"Are you okay, Ruby?" Weiss asked from her seat across from Ruby. She had put the book she was reading down as she stepped closer to her partner.

"Yeah," Ruby stood and stretched, "I was just having one of those REALLY weird dreams. You hungry?"

"I could eat. Your usual milk and cookies?" Weiss asked with a flat look.

"No!" Ruby shouted, startling Weiss. "No, uh... How about bratwurst?"

"Oh, I haven't had a decent bratwurst in so long..."

[deepestnightcolor]

Hi,hi!! I absolutely love your fics; they keep me fed 🙏🙏 and I've come to make a Sam x afab!Reader request.

As much as I love Penny, her one sin is being Sam's counterpart. That said, if you're comfortable with it, maybe Penny's finally ready to confess her feelings to Sam, and she's walking to his house when she knows he's most likely to be home alone but she hears faint moans from his window..🙈

ᴀ/ɴ: I hope this delivers, hehe

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sam x Fem!Reader (x Penny)

ᴡᴄ: 1554

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: exhibitionism, someone watches you having sex, masturbation, cursing, dirty talk, angst

☾ ᴅʀᴏᴘ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴘᴇɴɴʏ ☽

Penny would do it. Yeah, she would finally do it. Today. Or maybe tomorrow? Yeah, tomorrow would work better, right? She could go through what she wanted to say today and tell him tomorrow, yes. That sounded like a plan. A good plan. Perfect plan. Like she hadn't had that damn plan five consecutive days in a (censored) row.

Penny had decided: it had to be today. Or she would never do it.

The ginger had memerized the words by now, knew them by heart. If someone had woken her up at 3 in the night and yelled at her to speak, her practiced confession would be the first thing to fall from her lips. "Sam - I really like you. And I feel there is some kind of connection between us that I'd love to act upon. Would you perhaps like to go on a date with me?" Solid statement, clearly structured, giving him an option, just like she had read in all these books. The words even jumped off her tongue as she made her way to Sam's house - today would be a great day for this. She knew Jodi would be out with Caroline and Vincent would be with Jas - what could *possibly* go wrong? There was his window already, so why worry? It would be nice!

"Alright, Penny. You can do this. He probably won't even say no! Why am I beating myself up about it? Jee," she murmured, trying to hype herself up and dragging her feet at the same time. She tugged at her skirt as if it would grow any longer, tucked away strands of hair as if she hadn't stood in front of the mirror to brush them like that. She took another deep breath. She was 20 steps away from a nice date with her crush. So why didn't she take these last few steps?

Closing her eyes, she finally walked forward. 1, 2, 3, 456789- "Sam - I really like you-"

The words got stuck in her throat as soon as she heard it. Coming from Sam's window was a subtle sound, but she was close enough to hear it. It couldn't be, could it? Small huffs and puffs that definitely belonged to the blond. But then again- he was alone, so maybe he used the time to take care of "business"? She had read that taking care of "business" was healthy, so he wasn't really to blame. But what now? Should she just turn around and go? Probably, yes. Anything else would have been a breach of trust - and Penny had always had a good morale compass. So why did it feel like her legs were chained to the ground? Why was there this sickening twist in her stomach, urging her to step closer? And why, for heaven's sake, were her legs obeying that?

She had taken another step closer. And another. "Just another small one," she told herself, promised herself. There wasn't any need to step closer, there wasn't- oh God, she had heard him groan. It was low, deep. A little like his voice, and yet so much more gravelly. "That's it, fuuuuuuck, yeah, that's fuckin' it!"

Her ears were burning with hot embarrassment, hearing those words, so obviously moaned, hearing him curse- she felt a pulse go through her like a lightning bolt, making her clit throb in her panties. Penny frantically looked over her shoulders, one way, then the other, quickly pressing her thighs together. She should really go now, go home and wait for Sam to be done. Return tomorrow. Totally not step up to the window like she was doing now!

Then again- it was okay, right? They'd probably be dating by tonight anyway, right?

Another pulse, this time going through her core. She could feel that she was getting slick down there, nervosity bleeding into excitement. She would have never admitted it, but she had always wondered what Sam looked like naked. She knew he was athletic and strong, very well aware of the fact that he could easily pick her up- God, the thought alone made her feel all giddy.

"Fuuuuuuck, yes, Yoba, fuck."

If she hadn't been sure by then, she was now. Finger tips pressing to the windowsill out of Sam's window, Penny got onto her tippy toes to take a peek. Just a tiny, little peek, promise!

There he was, making her heart skip a beat in her chest. Muscular back turned toward the window, head thrown back in his neck, his blond hair all messy as his hips worked forward. Penny almost *moaned* at the sight, seeing her crush so vulnerable, in such a state of bliss.

She was so enthralled that it took her a while to realize that there were a pair of legs wrapped around these slender bucking hips, and the fact that there was another string of moans bleeding into Sam's. It took her a while to realize that Sam wasn't alone, and that he wasn't taking care of his "business" by himself. That he wasn't moaning for whatever scenario he made up in his head, but for you.

"Saaahammm," your voice whined, strained with the rough fucks that made your body shake.

All color drained from Penny's face. Sam...Sam...was having sex with the farmer?

Her hands clasped over her mouth, eyes wide open as she started at the two figures. She couldn't see much of you, but she could hear you now, loud and clear, loud and *full of pleasure*. You babbled his name in hiccuped moans, your legs clenching tighter around him whenever he hit a spot, your hands sprawled our on his back, scratching down the pale skin whenever your moans grew a little more high-pitched.

"That's it, baby, thaaaaats fuckin it! Love th-this Lil pussy, baby, *shiiiit*, don't want anyone else's," he panted, thrusting faster inside of you as if to make a point. Penny could feel tears well in her eyes, but that didn't mean she looked away. No, quite the opposite. She pressed her upper body against the window sill, leaning in a little further, trying to make out more of the two of you.

Sam was fucking you quickly, fucking you like she deserved. She had been Sam's friends for years! She had been the one that had a crush on him for years! And now you were the one having sex with him? Good sex, at that? You seemed to enjoy yourself, given the way you gasped for air, begged for more. And Sam, like a dog, delivered. Humped into you, stroking his hands up and down your sides while praising you.

It should have been her! Her jaw was clenched as her hands slid down her skirt, under the fabric of her panties. Her jaw was clenched when she realized that she was wet, and the tears started to flow when she began to rub at her clit.

"My girl, my pretty, goregous girl," Sam slurred, making Penny's breath hitch, her clit pulsing under the gentle, steady rub of her fingers. She could be his good girl, his perfect, pretty, goregous girl. Not the farmer.

"Mhhhmng! Sam! Fuck! I- you are *so* deep," you moaned back, making the blond chuckle breathlessly. "Just howcha like it, baby- know what my girl wants- cunt suckin' me off so well, fuck, do I *love* you, baby..."

Love you? Was that the reason he had gotten so distant the last few months? God, she had thought he had become shy! A small sob left her lips as she pushed a finger inside of her, desperate to replicate the feeling of the rough fuck you must have been receiving.

The high-pitched moan that came from both your and Sam's throats were caught by Penny, swallowed down with a sense of bitterness. He loved you? Yeah? She didn't want him anyway. Didn't want you as a friend either. Didn't want to watch your bodies intertwine, didn't want to admit *how* wet it made her. How hard she had to bite back not to moan, especially when your moans became so beggy and high pitched. She hated that she was fucking her cunt with two fingers in the middle of the daylight while watching her crush and his...his...girlfriend? Fuck. And yet it made her stomach twist and tie in a way that she had never felt before. A burning pit of lust and desire, and yet also ice cold jealousy.

"G-gonna cum!" "Cum for me, baby, cum-" he slurred, making Penny speed her fingers up as if he meant her, the arousal making her cheeks flush. She could hear you sob for Sam as he groaned, the blond holding you closer to his chest as he fucked into you hard, making her head fall against the wall of his house, eyes closing as she felt the waves of her orgasm sift through her.

It took Penny a few shaky breaths before she could stand upright again, taking a glance into the bedroom again. There you were, pressed against one another, holding one another, Sam whispering sweet nothings to you.

She pulled her fingers away abruptly, scoffing as she smeared the wetness on the window sill, turning around with her chin held high.

"Sam - fuck you."

Deep inside, though, perverted excitement lingered.

[ceceswithnopizza]

What I’ll do 3

Not edited, barely proofread so I’m sorry for that I will edit it later.

Jey uso masterlist

“Jasmin what are you doing popping up over here?” Joshua gritted through his teeth at the lightskin woman who stood at five foot seven and a hundred and ten pounds.

Who also happened to be Joshua’s ex girlfriend of eight years but they broke up because of Joshua’s failure to put a ring on it after so long.

At the time of the break up they’d already been living together, meet both families, and lived like married people. Aleisha couldn’t figure out why Josh, couldn’t just seal the deal.

And when Joshua didn’t have an answer that was enough for her to walk away, but not to far away that she couldn’t stick her nose in his business and keep that soft spot soft for her.

“Why Josh you got someone ova’ here or something?” She asked pointing her eyebrow up, crossing her arms.

Joshua instantly sighed and knew good and well that Aleisha had no problem, showing her ass and he’d felt something with Cleo and Aleisha was not going to ruin the moment.

“I do and you are not going to come in here and act an ass!” He warned lowly trying not to alert Cleo. Praying that she was doing somthing upstairs to distract her from his disappearance and the person he desperately wanted her not to see.

His prayers went unanswered just as Aleisha pushed past him abrupt and unexpectedly, moving him out the way, Cleo was coming down the stairs and they came face to face.

“Oh my bad I’m Cleo?” Cleo introduced Putting her best foot forward like always, but she wasn’t dumb she saw the look this woman was giving her and she looked to Josh to see how he’d handle this situation.

“I bet you are Ms. Thang” Aleisha said looked her up and down again, feeling the disrespect Cleo decided to take her leave.

Making her way to the couch where she’d left her things before moving past the woman to the door. Not sparing Joshua a glance she got in her car and left.

-

“Are you kidding me” Joshua said sliding his hands down face.

“What did a scare another one off” she said going into the fridge in the kitchen, making herself something, very comfortable.

“You can’t scare her off because she’s not my girlfriend, we’re just friends.” He said thinking about how he’d smooth things over with Cleopatra.

“If she wasn’t anything special then why are you mad.” She said shrugging as she kicked her feet up eating her bowl of strawberries.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you Aleisha now please leave.” He said gesturing to the door and Jas laughed not taking him serious.

“Boy bye” she said in between laughs

“I’m serious get out.” He said taking the fruit from her and pointing to the door.

Lifting her eyebrows before finally getting up and leaving, leaving Josh to sigh at the situation.

-

Laying in her bed Cleo felt weird and defeated, she didn’t know who this woman was that just came into Josh’s house like she owned the place. Why was she so comfortable with doing that?

Who was she to Joshua?

Why didn’t he say anything to the woman who clearly was interrupting their moment.?

That was another thing she felt an away about what would have happened had that girl not knocked.

Normally she’d just assume sex but over the last few weeks, the sex felt different the it was slow, and intense and felt purposeful.

Times like this where she really didn’t know what was going on, she was glad to have her bestie which she didn’t have anymore and would never have again it seemed.

She’d assumed the worse when she kept not getting an answer from Jazlyn after almost four whole months of being on delivered and texting from all platforms she could remember her being on, Especially Snapchat which Cleo didn’t even have but reinstalled, and used to to send messages to her best friend and going back to check the messages every so often to see if she’d gotten a response.

And she has just not the response that she’d hoped for which read.

Opened• 2 weeks ago

And her heart started to hurt.

How could Jazlyn just walk away yeah she’d yelled but they yelled at each other all the time she didn’t understand why Jazlyn wasn’t answering.

She had apologized and even mentioned to her home to see if she was there and Jazlyn was her car and everything. Using her key just to find out that it no longer worked and she knew what happened then and there.

Of course Cleo could stay in lala land and think her best had gotten kidnapped or went on a long vacation and all of this was just a mistake but none of that was true.

Truth was Jazlyn didn’t want to be her friend anymore, She didn’t want anything to do with her, her best friend through talk her life someone she thought of as a sister didn’t want her anymore.

And for the first time since she was a little girl she cried because she didn’t have any friends, and not just any friends her best friend, her sister. And she felt so small and childish on top of confused.

What was she to do?

[pinkwhiskerglitter]

Pepper Poppers

Chapter 2: New Beginnings

[Shane POV]

The alarm forces him up from slumber groaning as the pounding to his head accompanies this. He gets out of bed and changes into his work uniform. When he leaves his room he sees Jas eating a stack on pancakes and Marnie slicing some apples.

“Hey kiddo, I’m off to work see you later” Shane pats Jas on her head and nods to Marnie before leaving for Joja.

15 minutes later and he’s clocked in back to the mundane cycle of stocking and listing items. Sam eventually stumbles in and greets Shane like he usually does. Shane envies how happy Sam can be in such a mind-numbing place. How he has more potential and life in him than he ever did.

The routine begins of Shane stocking and documenting and Sam... being Sam.

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

[Farmer POV]

The fresh morning air wakes the farmer up and she looks around confused for a second as to why she’s in a rundown shack.

“Oh yea, career swap.” she mutters, getting herself out of bed and into a pair of overalls and a t-shirt. She looks through the seeds and tools she was gifted when she first moved in here and looked up how to care for parsnips. After a few articles and TikTok's she got a general idea and walked out to her new farm.

It wasn't a bad land, but it was a mess. Being abandoned for who knows how long has affected the grounds way more than she would like. Overgrown grass, rocks, and trees for as far as the eye can see floods the place. She looks around for a patch of land to start her parsnips with little rubble to disturb the process. Awkwardly trying to tilth, the soil and plant the seeds took longer than expected but was eventually completed.

“Guess I should start with clearing up this land, can’t be a successful farmer without land” she says and begins cutting away at a small area removing rocks, weeds, and whatever else has overgrown in the area. She remembers she has an axe and runs to her home to grab it.

It’s heavier than expected but she grips it and walks to a smaller tree to try and hack away at it.

“Here goes nothing” she says before she swings the axe with all her strength. The axe just sticks into the trees bark and she is out of breath sweating up a storm.

“I should have kept my gym membership.” she cries trying to pull the axe out of the tree. After an embarrassingly long struggle she finally gets it lost and delivers another messy blow. The farmer works away at the tree for what seems like ages until it finally falls, and she’s left with the stump. This is when it dawns on her that she has no idea what to do with a fallen tree, or a stump. After a few google searches, she decides to break the wood into smaller pieces and store them somewhere until they’ll get a use. This process was long and tiring, draining the farmer of her energy.

After that fiasco the farmer realizes if she’s going to start over, she will need to become more educated about this new lifestyle. She can’t stop to google everything and needs to become more knowledgeable about farming. The farmer showers off the day's work and plans out a schedule to help educate this new lifestyle.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------[Shane POV]

The clock hits 5 and like a porgram code in a computer Shane gets out of work and follows his routine of heading to the saloon. When he enters the building, the air is back to normal. No more extra buzz or light like the previous night. He signs in relief and returns to his usual corner with the same beer he always drinks. He’s back to a fly on the wall observing people around him and thinking about nothing but the bitter taste of beer on his tongue and the smell of peppers in the air.

Marnie eventually walks up to Shane, which isn't unusual but not exactly something she does often.

“Shane dear, maybe some nights after work you should skip the Saloon and head back home. Jas misses spending more time with you and been asking for you. I know you find comfort here and everything hasn’t been easy, but she still needs you.” the warm woman said with a pleading look in her eyes.

Shane sighs and looks up at her. He wants nothing more than to brush her off and curl into a ball and disappear but at the end of the day she’s right and Jas does need him.

“Yea ok.” he mutters, turning away from Marnie before putting some cash on the table and walking out of the Saloon.

“Great two nights in a row I leave the Saloon early.” He grunts as he walks back to Marnie home.

When he enters the house, he looks around for Jas just to find her with the chickens.

‘Hey uncle Shane.” Her eyes light up and she runs to hug him”

“Hey Jas, whatcha doing in here with these lovely ladies? Isn’t it your bedtime.” Shane questions.

“Yea but no one was home, and I wanted to pet your chicken.” She cheers. Shane smiles at her and bends down to pet his favorite chicken as well.

“Okay little lady it’s time to get you in bed, Marnie would kill me if I let you stay up any longer.” Shane picks up Jas and brings her to her bed tucking her in like the previous night. As much as Shane hates this town and his life, he loves Jas and wants to give her the opportunity to be better. It’s unfair she got stuck with him and must witness times he over drinks or falls into a hole that's hard to get out of, but he wants to provide what he can and hopefully help her make a life he wished he got.

He knows he’s not cut out for parenthood. He knows nothing about people, and even less about children. He wonders if what he’s doing is right or if he should have given up custody but in his own selfish way, he could not part ways with Jas. He needs her and he hopes she needs him. The only reason he’s been here this long was for Jas and he knows he can’t leave her; she’s already lost so much. His eyes begin to water at the thought, and he leaves her sleeping figure to go to his room and crack open an emergency beer. He knows he shouldn’t do this nasty habit when any emotion arrives but it’s an addiction he doesn’t want to break. After a few cans Shane still doesn’t feel drowned out enough, so he whips out his bottle of peanut butter whiskey and takes a few chugs. This was finally enough to numb out his mind and make his world spin in the way he finds comfort.

Soon enough Shane eventually passes out and the house is quiet once more.

[AN]

Thanks for reading :3

Find me in ao3 @AristotleOfShane

[umbralaether]

"Finally, food" for the prompt list, please!

Dearest G'raha,

The longing I feel for you and Lu'elle has only grown with the distance between us. Linkpearl is not enough, I want you here by my side. This place… it is beautiful.

You should be here seeing this for the first time, too.

She lets the pen hit the table. She decided against letters, knowing they'd take much too long to reach him, so a journal would have to do. He had even gotten her a brand new one, marked special for this occasion. Write down what you see, what you experience, and I will see it through your eyes.

Yet here she was, writing a letter anyway. She sighs. How to put into words all the new things she’d seen just in Tuliyollal alone? The beach, the history, the temple… all such glorious sights that not even her words could do them justice.

He had made it clear to her before she left that he did not mind staying behind with their daughter. If fortune should favor him, he’d be able so visit with her soon. It was only temporary, that they’d be apart. Yet the moment she got on the ship, she missed them both terribly.

Her musing is interrupted by the waiter, returning with her food, “Here we are! The taco trio— one fish, one vegetarian, and one of seasoned meat!”

Eisha looks up as the waiter delivers her food. Her stomach growls loudly; she’d forgotten for a moment just how hungry she was— it had been a quite the hike to see all the sights Wuk Lamat wanted them to see, and after Bakool Ja Ja had crushed their first attempt at these tacos, she was ready to see what the fuss was all about.

"Ah, finally. The long awaited tacos, thank you!" she replies, flashing her Warrior of Light grin. He nods, and leaves her to her food.

Before her sat three steaming corn shells stuffed to the brim. She tries the seafood first, the flaky fish melting against her tongue. The tangy slaw of cabbage on top brought it all together, and she crunched through the first one quickly.

The second one had a seasoned bean base, warm and hearty. It was accompanied by fresh lettuce, spicy salsa, and a melted cheese. This one was a bit messier than the others, leaving lots of pieces on the plate.

The last one had spicy shredded meat and was topped with fresh herbs, pickled onions, and a crumbly cheese. This type was what most of the other patrons had ordered.

With only the scraps of the meal left, she carefully jots down the finer details of each taco. If she is going to try all the food stands here, she will need an accurate record of everything she tries.

Its not the only thing she writes, though. She continues the letter to her beloved.

I will show you this place as soon as I can. In the meantime, I will seek out the best spots to see and the best places to eat. I will wine and dine you all across Tural, to thank you for making the sacrifice to stay home with our little treasure.

~ Your dearest Eisha