#unorthodox approach to everything

[qqweebird]

dipper & mabel are such such such good sibling rep and i love the fact that despite their differences theyre never truly pitted against each other, like so many shows (especially kids cartoons n such) will make the braniac/free-spirit dynamic so adversarial, but at the end of the day the pines fundamentally LIKE each other. dipper expresses some exasperation about mabel sometimes but most of the time he’s happy to be just as goofy as she is you know? and mabel’s creativity & emotional intelligence gives her plenty of opportunities to be the one to figure stuff out when dipper can’t, and she doesnt hold resentment against dipper for being the “smarter” twin (bc she knows he’s not really much smarter than her). its just a really refreshing dynamic . Also theyre codependent

[sporesgalaxy]

LET ME TELL YOU THE SETUP FOR MY BEAUTIFUL COOKIE CLICKER LOVE STORY

it's not everything but it's a decent introduction to the characters. I've been writing this summary for weeks. I'm hoping that feeling like I can reference parts in the middle will give me more ideas......

why does it hate my images...ok fine no images. god

•••

0 Ascensions:

Cookie is always on the lookout for new ways to bake ungodly amounts of cookies, so she approaches Kirschtorte after reading about the doctor's experimental portal research having once resulted in the retreival of a small amount of alien matter.

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she does not touch a single morsel of the extravagant cookie spread that Ms. Cliquer made to butter her up. The same thing happens the second, fourth, fifth time they meet and discuss business, no matter what variety of cookies Cookie makes. At last Cookie subjects herself to the mortifying ordeal of directly asking Dr. Kirschtorte what kind of cookies she likes-- only to be shocked and horrified when the doctor says that she does not eat any cookies whatsoever.

Despite her inexplicable distaste for cookies, Michelle Kirschtorte is receptive to Cookie's business offer, but she remains unmoved by Cookie's sickly-sweet commercial persona. Secretly at first, Kirschtorte is deeply cynical about the whole arrangement; she was screwed over by her previous colleagues, and progress on her portal research has been stagnating for some time now because of it. Although she doesn't admit it to Cookie at first, the doctor feels humiliated by the prospect of turning to a baked goods corporation for funding. Michelle ends up accepting the deal under the impression that she is taking advantage of Cookie's deep pockets and naive enthusiasm for unorthodox theoretical baking techniques.

When the cookie-focused research initiatives start yeilding mind-bogglingly impressive results, Kirschtorte reassesses her portal research priorities and her impressions of her oddball benefactor. Cookies are, for some reason, the key to understanding and exploiting the greatest secrets of the universe. Even more impressively, Ms. Cliquer seems intuitively in touch with the logic behind these shocking cookie truths. What other great scientific discoveries could cookie research yeild? How does Cliquer think of this stuff? Why DOES everyone like cookies so damn much? Kirschtorte finds herself irresistably drawn in by these exciting scientific possibilities, as well as the much less sweet and more insatiably driven person she starts getting to know behind Cookie's crowd-pleasing public persona.

Despite a stilted start to their relationship, Cookie and Michelle get along very well once they find even footing. Both are driven to prove themselves through their work, both have been underestimated and cast aside by peers and superiors in the past. Cookie's obsessive drive to make and market infinite perfect cookies matches Michelle's obsessive drive to understand everything there is to know about the nature of the universe; both are deeply passionate about their work and typically striving tirelessly towards the same goal. Both believe that their ends justify their means, and that ethical concerns are a waste of time and a thorn in the side of progress.

Cookie has a knack for PR that Michelle has always lacked the patience for; Michelle understands and appreciates the true, transcendent importance of cookies nearly as much as Cookie does-- Cookie's business partners usually don't care about that part.

Cookie eventually achieves enlightenment and realizes the Secret of the Heavenly Chips, granting her the ability to Ascend. Cookie should be overjoyed at the cosmic knowledge within her grasp; great new possibilities in cookie production await her!

Yet Cookie drags her feet. She keeps finding excuses to stay where she is, keeps setting goals even as her progress slows to a crawl, and reaching those goals in this lifetime seems less and less feasible...

Still, the stress of failure and stagnation chips away at Cookie's resolve to keep dragging out her first iteration. The knowledge of how much she could be doing with the power Ascension would grant her makes Cookie increasingly irritable and bitter about the work which she's made her entire life revolve around.

Kirschtorte is stressed and angry about the slowed progress, too. She is increasingly afraid that age and death will catch up with herself and Cookie before they can discover everything there is to know about reality (and cookies). Michelle is vexed by Cookie's comparative lack of urgency-- or is it a lack of hope for any solution? Cookie has always been the most driven person Michelle's known, yet now Cookie's detatchedness toes the line of seeming resigned to failure. Michelle feels like everything she thought she understood about Cookie is slipping through her fingers, and she feels powerless against the onward march of time (DESPITE having access to time machines!), and she doesn't know how to cope.

The temptation of exponentially greater cookie production and the crushing agony of stagnation eventually outweigh Cookie's sentimental attachment to this particular iteration of her life. Cookie Ascends.

(Michelle lives the rest of her life feeling emptier in Cookie's absence, and never knowing why Cookie vanished.)

1st iteration to reach the Grandmapocalypse:

The first time Michelle Kirschtorte meets Cookie Cliquer, she is offered a slice of Black Forest Cake, her favorite. Somewhat suspicious of the COOKIE Magnate offering her cake, Michelle still can't bring herself to resist. Cookie is clearly delighted.

Kirschtorte doesn't take Cookie seriously at first and Cookie knows it, and finds it funny. Kirschtorte has to be convinced of the omnipresence and significance of cookies thru material evidence. Cookie is more hands-on helping speed along her research, but only ever reveals information in bite-sized pieces on a need-to-know basis. It becomes increasingly clear to Kirschtorte that Cookie somehow knows a lot about the most far-fetched characteristics of cookies before they're scientifically proven...and that Cookie has a suspiciously good intuition for knowing things about Kirschtorte herself.

Cookie is delighted by her extra power and knowledge at first. She's entertained by using her extra experience to tease Kirschtorte. Cookie enjoys getting to spend more time with Michelle, despite how one-sided the relationship is early on. Michelle is drawn to Cookie even more from the get-go, because of her strange intuitive understanding of Michelle herself, as well as Cookie Theory.

During the first Grandmapocalypse, Cookie is overwhelmed and focuses on trying to feel in control rather than seeking help from Kirschtorte. When Dr. Kirschtorte approaches Cookie about it, Michelle is surprised by how stubbornly Cookie refuses to bend even slightly to the wishes of the Grandmatriarchs, no matter how logical and cost-effective that would be. Not fully understood by to Kirschtorte, this is motivated mostly by Cookie's resentment for her own grandmother (who is now a parf of the Grandma collective, of course). Cookie insists that any compliance or appeasement would only lead to Cookie and her company being trapped under the Grandmatriarchs' elderly thumb forever.

Instead, Cookie is dead set on overcoming the Grandmatriarchs' sabotage by outpacing them through brute force. Michelle sees this as a fight she is doomed to lose, but Cookie refuses to consider any alternatives.

Cookie's seemingly pointless uphill battle convinces Michelle that cooperating with the Grandmatriarchs is the only way to keep cookie production and research moving forward at a viable pace (she is objectively correct about this). Michelle wants to trust Cookie's leadership, but the two of them are getting older (this is especially visible on Michelle, who is effected by constant proximity to Cookieverse Portals), and Michelle is beginning to fear they might die before they uncover and exploit all the cookie-based secrets of the universe. After all the work they've done, the thought of not being able to see it through upsets Kirschtorte terribly. The Grandmatriarchs subconsciously whisper things to Michelle which exacerbate these fears-- something Michelle is susceptible to due to her proximity to the Cookieverse Portals.

Eventually, Kirschtorte caves. Against Cookie's wishes-- but in Kirschtorte's mind, for Cookie's sake as well as her own-- Kirschtorte convenes with the Grandmatriarchs anyways by using the Cookieverse Portals. She asks them for knowledge of how to lessen the Grandmatriarchs' wrath, and she asks for them to help her understand the true nature of the universe. In exchange, the Grandmatriarchs' ask Michelle to bond her mind with them just a little (still retaining most of her individuality), and vow that she will continue to proliferate portals to the cookieverse as long as she lives. That seems like an easy promise to Michelle, and it makes sense that they would want this. She already makes portals to the cookieverse all the time, so no big deal. Cookie was probably being stubborn and mistrusting for nothing!

Michelle performs the Elder Pledge ("a simple ritual involving anti-aging cream, cookie batter mixed in the moonlight, and a live chicken"), and the Grandmapocalypse is halted. The Wrinklers and Flesh Highways withdraw and cookie production returns to normal, with the Research Facility's grandma augmentation benefits still at work.

Cookie isn't sure what to make of the sudden withdraw of the Grandmatriarchs, but she has a bad feeling.

The way Michelle's deal works is that Kirschtorte will die normally someday, but then the Grandmatriarchs will carry her consciousness and memories to another iteration of Kirschtorte who asks for the same deal, and their knowledge will be combined into 1 continuous consciousness. This will repeat over and over, with more knowledge added to the collective each time, and each new Kirschtorte never knowing about her past selves or the secrets they've uncovered before she complies with the Grandmatriarchs.

Kirschtorte asks the Grandmatriarchs if they can do the same for Cookie, and is shocked to learn that Cookie was never going to run out of time, and never told her. Was Cookie willing to waste the rest of Kirschtorte's limited lifetime arguing with a grandma hivemind?! Did the work they do together matter so little to her?!!

When Michelle confronts her about it, Cookie learns in turn that Michelle is permanently cosmically bound to the Grandmatriarchs. Cookie feels betrayed, but she mostly blames Grandma-- ignoring Michelle's agency in the situation, thoughtlessly belittling her to keep her on a pedestal.

They continue to have problems in this and future iterations, with Kirschtorte always spending a large portion of their time together unaware of all their past lives until suddenly becoming aware when she inevitably goes against Cookie's wishes and speaks to the Grandmatriarchs. And yet, as much as they both claim to be ruthless utilitarians who put their work above all else, it is always quite obvious how much they admire each other and how badly they always want to be together, even at their worst. With all the time they spend building and destroying and rebuilding a cookie empire over and over again, they come to know and understand each other very intimately. They're both insufferably weird about each other when they both have all their memories.

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 14: Hate Sex

Pairing: IVE Gaeul x Male Reader

Word Count: 4,294

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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Acquaintances, not even a dent but it’ll be hard to deal with but when you’re close with someone, you’re damn sure it won’t be ephemeral and will hold a grudge against you and that’s the last thing you want to see with someone you’re deeply close with.

Yet you eat your words and face that greatest fear of yours, on the verge of breaking apart and cutting connections yet you won’t let that happen even though everything’s falling apart, slowly…

“Gaeul—let me explain—”

“I fucking heard enough—get out of my place or I’ll do it myself!!” Gaeul’s grits her teeth as her words are laced with venom, aiming to faze you out yet it didn’t bother you to fight and to try and enlighten her with the right reasons and brush off the infuriating side that she involved herself into.

“Gaeul, please—it wasn’t much of a thing—we weren’t even close enough and it’s just a friendly approach—” 

“Yeah I know, dumbass—it’s just a friendly approach but it’s not that what makes me furious…” Gaeul clicks her tongue, faces you as she drops her bag onto the floor, giving you a cold stare that sends shivers down your spine and then inching closer towards you with her intimidating glare still painted on her face. “It’s the fact that you kept ignoring me all the time until t-this moment—why?”

You can see Gaeul getting melancholic as the emotions inside her are finally rising up within her veins, making her shed a tear because of all of the grudgeful events that have been happening until this day.

You weren’t ignoring her completely and you never did—it was just her sensitive and manipulative personality that you made yourself to distance away from her but not completely and it’s also the fact that you’ve been showing an interest to a girl that you’ve been captivated right from the start you met her and wanted a better connection but of course, Gaeul will make a hindrance because of her intense anger and jealousy over you. You love Gaeul, but in a way that’s maybe unorthodox and platonic for others but you didn’t care—you love her and you love the relationship you have with her for years, even though it’s not going over the limit but sometimes, she’s just being over the limit and you’re not liking it.

“Gaeul—just please, it’s not about that fact—”

“Then what?” Gaeul inches closer towards you, her eyes are now gleaming with her own tears due to the weightful emotions she’s experiencing, as it streaks down her cheeks and makes her makeup start to become a ruined mess. 

Your heart drops with her current gloomy state as you can feel the sincere sorrow in each of her words. In each word she expresses, it makes up for the poignant feelings she felt because of you and it’s breaking you slowly. You never wanted her to be like this, but here you are, locked with frustration and regret and there’s nowhere you can do to escape—technically, you can but you don’t want it to provoke her further and let this be the day to end your friendship with her.

You’d be with her until the end of time and you’ll let her know that yet this will be a challenge and you’re willing to endure and take it over.

“It’s about the fact of—” Silence ensues as she interrupts your further attempts of explanations as she latches her lips onto yours immediately and instantly, you became intoxicated with her scent that you fell under her spell, further reciprocating the kiss as she grips onto your collar tightly to further deepen the torrid kiss that she initiated. As much as you want to pull out and talk about the situation better, you can’t help but further need the taste of her luscious lips as your hands roamed around her back and played with her hair which tightens her grip onto your collar even more. Not so long after, the kiss came up to a close as she pushed you harshly and then glaring at you, starting daggers towards your heart.

“You know how much I hate you whenever you kiss me, right?”

“It w-wasn’t even—”

Gaeul chides you as she can sense the uneasiness in your eyes, and she took that as an opportunity to let you feel her wrath. Now pinned against the wall and frozen on the spot, Gaeul half-squinted her eyes as her voice tends to curse you and its tone is evidently made to faze you and all you can see is her small figure falling down on her knees, and gripping harshly onto the hem of your pants.

“Gaeul, c-can we just talk about this—”

“Shut the fuck up and just lean down on the wall.” Gaeul’s hands finds its way onto the buttons of your pants as she starts undressing your lower half and with that in mind, you know what Gaeul wants and further retaliation will just not work but rather put gasoline into the flames of anger. You just let her get what she wants as you will also derive pleasure from it but you know Gaeul’s going to put your life in misery within this given moment as you momentarily prepare for this.

“You know that I’ve been so fucking stressed lately and then you, added to that shit I’m going through—well, don’t worry, I’m going to use this delicious dick just for myself.”

Well, if this is how she’ll handle the situation, then so be it. With your defenses slowly becoming useless and deemed to be out of bounds, you take shallow breaths in order to prepare on what you’re about to tackle and ruthlessly, Gaeul yanks off your boxers out as she’s met with your erect length, constantly throbbing since the time she probably kissed you intimately. Unlike what you’ve fantasized or experienced with her, she eyes your cock like some sort of meal, not like something she’s been wanting for a long time as she spat all over your length, and stroked it starting from the base up to your engorged tip.

“Don’t call my name or touch me, because if you do, I’m going to really punch you, I swear to fucking god.”

She can’t be bothered with anymore foreplay as the hunger inside her took over and planted small kisses within your tip, and then sucking half of your length with already a ridiculous pace that inevitably lets out a series of ethereal moans coming out of your mouth, voicing your satisfaction. It’s obvious how deprived she is with your taste as the constant slurps on your shaft and her greedy pace of bobbing is a strong evidence, concluding to a fact she definitely wanted you yet anger and jealousy took over her that she became a different person.

Now, taking your whole length is each bob she does, more broken moans escape your lips as it forms symphonies for Gaeul to hear yet she doesn't care—all she wants is the taste of your cock and to fulfill her own needs. She didn’t mind the gags she does whenever your head hits the back of her throat as she continues to suck every inch of you like she’s been starving for weeks and with her current pace, you can’t help but writhe as you hands unable to find a leverage to fight the sudden peak of pleasure. You can’t help yourself and Gaeul know you can’t handle her properly, as she increases the quality of her oral expertise all over the length of your shaft and the inevitable comes, your hands finds its way onto Gaeul’s dark locks in which, she didn’t like and immediately, she pulled out of your length as the multiple connections of her saliva onto your shaft makes up the mess that made your arousal skyrocket.

Gaeul’s furious at what you’ve done and won’t let you get away from it as she snarls at you, her anger streaming over her like a hot kettle. “What the fuck did I just say? Are you that fucking stubborn??” 

Of course, the question is rhetorical and all you know is that you’ve fucked up with the wrong person. With Gaeul’s ice-cold glare towards you, it wasn’t going to long for a punishment to be ensued as her dainty fingers found its wall on your sensitive balls, and cups it gently. It was a rush of pleasure whenever she does that yet it was quickly changed when she wrapped her fingers around it, making it a makeshift cockring that definitely puts more salt onto the wounds—it’s a little painful yet it stimulates you even further as she continues her oral masterclass, slobbering all over your succulent shaft like there’s no tomorrow to see.

She maintains the ridiculous pace onto your whole length as her soft, warm cavern which is her mouth makes up for the constant pain she’s doing onto your sensitive balls, further unlocking your masochistic side. She shows no mercy and sympathy as she uses her mouth to further derive her wants as she can’t get enough and resist the taste of your length yet even with all of the great things that have been happening, it will all soon come to a halt as she pulls out and catches her breath desperately.

“God—you're glad your cock tastes fucking delicious and I can’t resist this—shit, be grateful because this could’ve ended worse.”

You’d want to argue with her on that scope, but you'd rather not, not when her rage is boiling hot and she wants not yet attended to its fullest. Further continuing her great expertise, she delivers such an incredible pace as her other hand grips onto your thighs for a leverage on a better job and sucking you off. Every thrust she does is genuinely making you brain being fried down into shambles and when forced herself onto deepthroating you, she crossed the line as you can’t help but cry on how great her throat feels, yourself getting weaker with her own spell. It didn’t take long before she ejected out due to her multiple gag reflexes and god, once you look down, you can’t help but feel more aroused with the sight of face sullied with her own makeup, saliva and her disheveled hair.

“I’m g-going to suck this dick until you cum deep down my throat, do you understand?” You nod eagerly as she smirks as strokes your saliva-sheathed length and mutters more commands, “Don’t you dare hold back and be a good boy for me.”

You won’t let her down and will deliver up to her finest desires as she latches her lips onto your engorged head, collecting the copious precum that has been leaking out and then eagerly shoved down your whole length for the umpteenth time in her throat and ensued with a rapid pace. It was breaknecking as the copious drool stained her hands still gripping onto your balls, onto your thighs and some dripping on the floor and it’s just a great element to further ignite the essence of an incredible oral session. She can sense how close you are due to you needy moans and the constant throbbing of your shaft and with profound knowledge, she further doubles her efforts as she needs to taste every drop of your succulent, creamy semen that she’s been addicted to and there’s no way you’re going to last long. Given the fact that she’s been giving you the euphoric experience you’ve had for an undeniably long time now, you’re not able to savor the moments you’d want to as you can feel your loins acting up and hell’s about to break loose for you.

“Gaeul—I’m g-gonna cum…”

Gaeul took this as an opportunity to show how she’s more deserving than anyone and how you could never find someone like her. She didn’t even bother responding by words, but rather, her own, frantic actions as she plunged her throat deep down as she gags and you finally, let out the pinnacle of paramount bliss—shooting streak of thick, creamy semen down her throat as she gags in every spurt, but fight through it because she wants to take it all and not waste a single drop. She successfully did it, given on how great she takes your cock and suddenly, your seed instantly disappeared and is now treasure down to her stomach as she hummed in satisfaction because of your delectable load.

“Can’t get enough of this cum of yours—fuck, it’s so delicious.” Gaeul shares her satisfaction with the flavorful taste of your semen as she averts her eyes towards you, still with a cold glare as she stands up and lets you know about something you’ll never forget. “I guess she can’t do it like I do, hm? Like I said, you’re not gonna find another one like me.” Gaeul, still fueled with her rage, stands up and commands you to lay down on the couch in which you find it puzzling as you’re genuinely confused on why she’s acting like this.

“Gaeul—please, can w-we just talk about this?” Your pleas doesn't let Gaeul distract herself onto her desired prize as she’s still not done with you and would rather hear your moans than your annoying voice pleading for something better.

“Maybe we’ll fucking talk if you dumped another load, now inside my cunt.” Gaeul retorts as she pushes you off the couch and you land with a thud, her not minding if you were alright or hurt because she’s feeling selfish due to her anger blinding her and her animalistic desires that unleashes the devilish side of her. With still your length being full-erect despite your already-impeding orgasmic trance, Gaeul eyes on it as she pounces on your lap like a bunny, hopping onto its favorite meal: your length, still wet with own saliva as she strokes it furiously in order to maintain the libido inside you. 

“Ga—Gaeul, I c-can’t take it anymore—I’m too sensitive!”

Well, she completely ignored your pleas and with that, she completely uses this as her own advantage as she toys with you, further pumping your throbbing length with feverish strokes in which you respond with whimpers due to your sensitivity.

“I don’t care—don’t tell me you don’t want this, asshole! Bet she can’t make you whimper like I do, hm?”

As much as you want to retaliate and stop this madness, you can’t help but feel utter pleasure and pain whenever she strokes your entire length as her touch is your kryptonite, and it will always be that way. Having enough of giving your shaft such pleasurable strokes, she strips her clothing one by one while still pouncing on your lap and with the sight of Gaeul’s slender body on display, your shaft can’t help but twitch because of how hot she is. Given her graceful and quick movements, she removed all of her clothes in quick succession yet she needed to hop off on your lap to strip her lower half and after removing it all, she quickly pounced and teases her lower lips onto your tip. The both of you moaned in unison because of such a great feeling coursing down your veins with your bodies clashing against each other yet Gaeul is growing impatient, opting for the climactic prize as she eagerly plunges herself onto your entire length. 

After she impales herself with your raging rod, such sultry and sexy moans escape her lips as she misses the feeling of your dick inside her tight, velvety walls. She ensued a moderate pace as she greedily grinds her hips onto your length, withdrawing with only the tip inside and then slamming her hips back, filling her up to the hilt which made her moaned incredibly loud and you, groaning your satisfaction out as your sensitivity slowly dissipates as time goes by and with her rapid thrusts on your shaft. 

You know how incredible it feels everytime Gaeul rides you as she always brings her best, hopping and clashing her hips in contact with your body harshly as she brings the peak pleasure that you’ve always loved. Even though you know how she’s becoming selfish and using your body just for her own gratification and her needs to be fulfilled, you can’t still help but notice how she’s reconsidering your own pleasure as her movements laced with finesse and the peak-quality of her thrusts against you is a strong evidence.

“Yeah—see? You can’t think about her right now, don’t you? Yeah—because you can’t help but get so fucking turned on with my pussy, hah—that’s why, you prick!”

Gaeul growls at you as she uses your shirt as the leverage to further ensure a breakneck pace and to further fight the intense pleasure that’s been coursing down her veins since the start she rode you. You could feel her wetness in every thrust she does on your shaft as rivulets of her own nectar overflow around your shaft and stain the couch—and here comes another event where the both of you will literally stain and destroy another couch because of both your filthiness. The wet squelching of her shaft sends your brain into a stimulation that further makes everything better yet it’s becoming way too pleasurable that you’re starting to have your mind clouded with only the gripping walls of pussy that puts you into a hypnotic trance.

“Gaeul—p-please, if w-we can just talk—”

A smack resonates around the room as she slapped your face with anger still boiling within her as you feel a sting yet it didn’t really hurt you because she didn’t bring much power onto that smack. As how your previous attempts of persuading her onto talking to you in a better way possible concluding onto a major fail as everything was deemed useless against her, you’d just keep your mouth shut and relive and cherish the pleasure that she’s been delivering as you totally succumb onto your own needs too, groaning in pleasure and moaning to voice out how good she’s riding you even though she doesn't acknowledge your sincere compliments towards her—even with her holding a deep grudge, you know that deep inside, she’s deeply flustered because she knows how your compliments literally fuel her do more and makes it more endearing.

The sight of Gaeul’s cunt constantly engulfing your entire length as she creams all over it, her perky mounds jiggling in every time she gyrates her hips and her expressions and moans that contains pure lust and wants—even though she’s suppressing the sounds that’s coming out of her mouth and trying her absolute best to make up a stern and intimidating look, she can’t help but let her true self out as the pleasure is making her give in to her true feelings and putting her hypocritical demeanor into its demise—is so arousing that you’d literally want to take a picture or a video just to save it and possibly even jerk off to it on your free time but of course, you’d probably just conceal everything and let both of your eyes only be the ones to see this filthy masterpiece.

With her given pace, Gaeul can’t help but just lure in to her own carnal desires as she’s coming near to her own promised land, drawing herself closer onto her rewarding trance as the constant pulsations of her pussy and her juices spilling out of it as the evidence of her nearing high. Knowing about this, you thrust yourself upwards as surprisingly, she didn’t bother to stop you but even encouraged you to do so and with her final oscillations, she’s going over to the line and all will break loose.

“God—I’m going to fucking cum all over this stupid cock—shit, it f-feels so—ahh—good—gonna cum!!”

It just took a single scream from Gaeul as she creams all over your throbbing shaft, her juices spilling out and making everything on its vicinity wet and it’s further worsen when she pulled out of your length, spraying her liquid nectar all over your abdomen, your shaft and on the sofa. She falls limp on the sofa as she catches her breath, regaining herself some energy from the enervating orgasm that sends shockwaves throughout her body as euphoria takes over her. Still having some of her energy left, she chides towards you to do something as she complains on how your cock can always make her cum hard.

“Gosh—glad I can only feel this cock ‘cause—fuck, this cock makes me cum so fucking hard I fucking love it… Now will you fuck me? Be sure to finish in me ‘cause I want that load deep inside my cunt.”

Her sinful words makes up for the sudden loss of tempo as you stood up from the couch and without any question, Gaeul positions herself where her freshly-fucked cunt is all on display, all for you to take with no-return and to end what she started a while ago. Your hands then grabbed her hips as her flexibility was tested, her legs now rested onto your shoulders as you immediately plunged your length back into her wet folds and then mustered a ridiculous pace in which she always loved. There was no more foreplay as it was out of the equation as both your needs should be attended as soon as possible yet Gaeul isn’t a fan of what your hips are capable of doing.

“Come on—fuck me harder, come o-on—oh fuck!”

Gripping her hips harshly enough for a bruise to form, you ensued more power in each of your thrusts as she moaned in need with your utter harshness, treating her body like a ragdoll as every plummet your hips do meant to break her in half and turn herself into a mess, uttering such lifeless syllables full of lust and greed. Even with your breakneck pace, Gaeul can’t seem to be impressed with the way you’re treating her as she complains again, fury taking over her and making her boil.

“I s-said—fuck m-me harder—oh shit, just like-fucking-that you stupid asshole!!”

You then fuck her with a pace imaginable, your hips mustering up a velocity that no one can comprehend as you let your pent-up anger inside fuel the rapid thrusts that’s bound to break her apart and possibly, to fuck out the anger she’s feeling and to succumb onto her wanton needs. 

It may seem impossible on this given moment but being derived to fulfill each other’s needs is the best way to end this even though her rage for you is still deep within her—you just hope you can fix this in a better way possible but for now, you’ll just dig yourself closer to the rabbit hole, a hole closer to your own lustful desires and to succumb onto it,

There’s no way Gaeul can’t tell how closer you are on reaching your own, long-awaited high as you gave her cunt the last, ruthless thrusts that made her cry due to the intense gratification she’s feeling as she close her eyes and lets her senses gave her the better stimulation than ever before. Without holding back, you announce your near orgasm to Gaeul and she took this as an opportunity to fulfill her needs as she sexily moans for you for further encouragement and it’s not going to be long before you reward both yourselves.

“Fuck—I’m gonna cum inside y-you, Gaeul—shit, g-gonna cum!!”

Now with her legs repositioning to hug your waist and to further lock your whole length to be buried deep inside her, you groan with the tightness her walls are making as you bury your shaft more, filling her up to hilt and shooting down multiple spurts of your treasured seed right onto her womb. Your thighs quiver when you deliver her your semen as at her end, she became enervated due to the exhaustive session of sex and the mind-boggling stimulation that made her brain go haywire. You kept buried in her until your orgasm impeded, and then, you pulled out to admire the mess you’ve made between her legs and as expected, the both of you fell limp onto the couch. With enough courage, you asked her something and anticipated a better approach yet you’re still met with something else you didn’t like.

“Now, can we talk?”

Gaeul rolls her eyes as frustration is still embedded within her, but you can see it being lifted by a little due to the faint smile she did after receiving a warm load deep in her cunt. “I’ll go and clean up first.”

Having a little faith, you let her do what she wanted to do as she stood up and a visible struggle was evident when her legs became a little wobbly due to the intensity of your pace and hers earlier. You ensued on helping but she brushed it off and said that she’s fine and she can help herself up.

But there’s maybe a single thing that Gaeul can’t withstand nor do against it as it’s inevitable for her to resist and put a sleep onto…

“Hey…” Gaeul stopped as she called you, and you were fazed by it but you brushed it off as responded to her.

“What, Gaeul?”

Gaeul sighs as her stern glare still shoots daggers at you, but her tone is now softer than what it was before, “Come and join me in the shower, then we’ll talk right after.”

Yes, her weakness is literally you as you’re insatiable for her. Guess what? There’s maybe another chance to clot what has been wounded and fix what has been broken but you could never be so sure but that? That’s a sign of mending and that alone gives you hope for the better…

[rileyslibrary]

Be gentle, man!

Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)

Notes:

This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.

———————————————————————

The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.

But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.

For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.

Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.

On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.

“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.

As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.

He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.

Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.

You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.

As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.

The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.

You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.

“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.

“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”

“... in for a fucking pound.”

“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.

“Apologies, darling.”

You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.

Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.

“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”

Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.

“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”

You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.

The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.

With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.

“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”

You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.

Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.

“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.

“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”

You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.

Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.

“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.

“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.

You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.

Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.

Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.

Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.

“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.

Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”

Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”

You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.

“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”

“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”

Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.

“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.

Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.

“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”

———————————————————————

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

Adrenaline pumps behind your ears. You sit in the dirt, heart thumping, body tingling, you're breathless. You can't believe you just did that.  

You tug on the strap of the chute as it digs into your shoulder. You steady you grip on your phone as you look up at the sky as you try to still your shaking. You just fucking jumped out of a plane and lived. Wow. 

You hit send on the video. The girls aren't going to believe you without evidence. Besides, you feel bad for missing cocktails. You'll be there in spirit. 

A sudden release has you feeling lighter as the chute detaches. You're lifted from behind by the empty back strapped onto you, "Iz, you good?" Sy asks. 

"I'm... alive," you say as you lower your phone and steady your feet, "that was..." 

"Come on," he meets your trembling disbelief with his stern intensity. "You know we still got stuff to do." 

You clear your throat and let out a deep breath, "sure thing, Sy." 

"Whatcha doin' anyway?" He taps your phone before you can tuck it away. "UberEats don't come out here." 

"Pfft," you scoff, "girls are having drinks. Was just sending them my regards." 

"Girls," he utters, "you tell them I'm sorry for keeping ya. Tequila Izzy must be a lot of fun." 

"I told you, I don't drink Tequila," you counter.  

"Sure, ya don't. You just never had good tequila." 

"Please," you turn to walk in time with him across the sandy field, "you know good liquor? I'm the one who stocks your footlocker." 

"Patron ain't too bad. I just don't like the price tag," he shrugs. 

“You? Careful about money?” You shake your head. 

“Eh? Last I checked, you were my money manager.” 

“Well, it wasn’t in the job description but there wasn’t really one, was there?” You kid as you keep step with him. You look ahead and the last of the thrill slakes away. “So, what are we doing here, Captain?” 

“Why ya callin’ me Captain for?” He nudges you with his elbow, “don’t sweat it.” 

Your eyes pinpoint in the distance as you try to see more than sand. Your cheeks slacken and your lips straighten. Business. It isn’t like it used to be. It’s more than emails and Zoom calls. No, it’s life and death. 

“Really, you don’t need to worry. He’s an old buddy. He’s just... livin’ off the grid right now.” 

“You sure?” You ask. 

“What happened to trust?” He challenges. 

“When did I ever say that word,” you mutter and chew your dry lip. 

He huffs, “don’t start. Come on. Won’t be no time.” 

He’s right. You approach a compound behind a thick metal fence. The sun beats down so hotly that you can see a ripple in the air and it looks as if the bars are bending. Like Sy, you’ve wrapped a scarf around your head to sop up your sweat and protect your face. 

You don’t miss the men perched on the posts or those just within. They have guns. They ready them at your approach. Sy shoots up a green flare that has them standing down. He stops you twenty feet from the gate. 

“He’ll come to us before we can go in.” 

You look at Sy. He’s calm, unbothered by the guns and the watching men and the burning sun. Out here, he’s in his elements. He’s confident in the matters of blood and violence, everything else is a mystery to him. His world is foreign to you. You live in the little nooks and cranny’s he doesn’t see; the business of living not killing. Bills, laundry, doctor’s appointments, deadlines, dishes... 

The gate opens and you tense. He taps your wrist, “ease up.” 

You do your best to obey. You don’t want to put any one else on edge. Didn’t you take this job to let go of all that? To stop being so damn uptight. 

A man walks out, unarmed, though he wears an armoured vest. Sy goes forward to greet them and the chuckle as they embrace, slapping each other’s shoulders. You stay behind, wary of the shadows behind the fence. 

“Syverson,” the man lilts, “you made it.” 

“Didn’t make it easy, Conrad,” Sy snorts. 

“Mm, but I thought you were coming alone,” the man looks past him and nods in your direction, “if you’d said a lady was accompanying you, I’d have sent the town car.” 

“Don’t be fucking funny,” Sy reaches to muss the man’s hair. “I’m starving and tired and your jokes still aren’t amusing.” 

“Come,” the man, Conrad beckons to you, “I’ve everything ready. Beds, food...” He draws out the last word with a wink, “wine.” 

Sy tilts his head and cranes to look at you as he follows Conrad’s gaze. You cross the expanse and take Conrad’s hand as he offers it, introducing himself as ‘James’. You shake his hand and return your name in turn. Sy turns forward and squares his shoulders. 

“Might I ask how you know each other?” Conrad turns to walk at your other shoulder as he points you onward. 

“Mmm, she’s...” Sy mulls his answer with a grumble. 

“Personal assistant,” you fill in for him. 

“Oh? How amusing,” Conrad remarks, “and in this line of work.” 

[akoyaxs]

Tì'eylan ✮ Pairing: Aonung x fem!human!reader ✮ Trope: Friends to lovers ✮ Word Count: 16k ✮ Tags: mentions of sexual partners, talk of sex, size difference, fluff, Aonung's pov (kinda mega horny for her), jealously, lap sitting, accidental stimulation, masturbation (m), slight slight angst if you squint, kissing, biting, munchiness, coming untouched, p in v, nicknames (Aonung calls reader tsawksyul, which means sunlily) ✮ A/N: so I kinda went a little overboard with this one - idk what to tell you - i had a lot to say and ngl had a lot of daydreams during boring classes that i didnt have time to turn into writing till now (>﹏<) Also lol, I'm on holiday w my family rn so writing this at times was quite risky but anyway, HOPE YOU ENJOY MY DARLINGS, I REALLY LIKED WRITING THIS ONE <3

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Never in a million years would you have suspected that you’d end up close friends with Aonung.

When you met him, shielded by the somewhat brotherly protection of Neteyam and Lo’ak, Aonung had been indifferent to you at the very best, and taunting and infuriating for the first few weeks in Awa’atlu.

All it took was a few skirmishes, several unorthodox verbal arguments, and one fucked up altercation with other humans for Aonung to get off his high horse of hazing the newbies.

You weren’t sure if it was Neteyam’s near-death and your inconsolable distress over it, or the closeness of you getting nearly kidnapped by the Recoms (the “pretty traitor” as the had called you left little to imagination of what sort of fates you would have met with the RDA), but there on that empty beach, watching the sun set in the safety of the village bay, left alone or maybe even forgotton, you had found his ridiculously tall form approaching.

Aonung sat slowly and silently beside your smaller, disconcerted figure. After a wordless moment, in which you continued to absently stare out at the empty horizon, he had placed a soft, woven blanket over you.

It was a little rough, but of course he didn’t mean to be. Moreover, it had just been a wordless loan of something quite too large for your human figure – so much so you were practically drowning in it – but the weight was warm and reassuring, as, surprisingly, was his still, quiet presence hulking beside you.

“Thank you.”

Your whisper – feeble and weak even to your own ears – would have been lost in the breeze and lapping waves, but you later reminded yourself of na’vi’s superior senses, as he let out a small sound of acknowledgment, silently noting how shaken you still were.

“Are you alright?” he had asked, following your unspoken rule and also quietly watching the ocean, and more importantly, keeping his gaze from your pale, unnerved face.

“Yep.”

And that had been just that.

No more words had been spoken, not so much as a glance or gesture was offered, but something had changed as the unlikely pair of you sat in ponderous silence, watching the gilded horizon.

You never really discussed the hiccup at your initial meeting (and the period that had followed before friendship was forged), but you never needed to. Aonung had wordlessly conveyed his apology, as had you accepted it.

It is an uncomplicated friendship; time spent together is full of teasing and laughter and often petty argument, and time spent apart is to gather new material to discuss, to scheme up new ways to make the other’s life an amusing hell, and of course to just fuck around.

Which leads to one fact; Aonung is a slut.

You could tell it from the moment you saw him, even before knowing his desirable position in the clan or noting the lovesick-lustful looks the village girls couldn’t tear off their faces when he was within eyesight. It’s not just obvious through his physical appearance (although, admittedly, that is the work of the lord), but through his walk and talk and everything in between.

Even before your friendship, you knew Aonung was off with a different girl every few days, and said girl would always then labour under the deulusion she alone captured the lustful gaze of her future Olo’eyktan – something that always reminded you not to fall for your friend in his hopelessly infuriating slutiness.

It came as no surprise to you when your theory of you friend being Pandora’s biggest slut was proved to be quite true, so you aren’t entirely sure why the outlines of your love life came as quite the shock to the Metkayina man.

“Tell me,” he says with a small, ponderous frown, as though something had just occurred to him, though you knew this look perfectly well to guess what he was about to say was not some casual thought that slid nonchalantly into his mind. “How have you been taking care of yourself?”

You look wearily up from your beadings to squint at him – all stretched out and full of lazy curiousity on the woven mat of your marui. This is how you often spent the warm afternoons in Awa’atlu; you beading or mixing herbs or cooking or something actually useful, while your friend bothers you.

You were still too weary of actually swimming with people, surrounded by beautiful, tall, slim, lithe na’vi girls, and although Aonung had tried to convince you a million times, those bikinis you brought with you remained secretly stowed away deep in the darkest parts of your marui.

Sometimes at night, you would slip out the walkway of your marui into the cool ocean below, but careful that there’s no one around to see. At least it meant na’vi were absolutely shocked to say the least when they saw just how curvy human bodies could get without your flowy clothing.

“What are you on about?” you sigh. “I’m perfectly healt-”

“I meant physically,” Aonung says casually. “Maintaining yourself sexually.”

Oh.

Your friend did have a habit of being carelessly blunt in his manners, but that was one thing that managed to take you by surprise.

“What do you think?” you laugh, throwing off your disconcertion and far too used to your friend - and all na’vi really - disregard for topics very much taboo for humans to be thrown off by the quite personal question.

“Well…” he shifts closer to gage your expression, a small furrow creasing his brow. “You are the only tawtute here, and I’m sure even your kind have sexual needs that must be met. So how…”

“Do I cope when I get horny?” you finished, raising your brows and wrinkling your nose at him. Aonung nods, throat looking a little tight but otherwise unbothered by the delicacy a conversation like this should typically have. “What sort of answer are you looking for, Aonung?”

He blinks, then shakes his head in a puppyish way and you grin.

“I don’t just take care of me myself, if that’s what you’re wondering,” you answer elusively.

You never told Aonung the truth. The truth that you have no shortage of Metkayina men offering to deal with your sexual desires, lost in their own curiosity of human-na’vi sexual experimentation.

And you’d be lying if you pretended you weren’t attracted to them. How could you not be?

Na’vi were nine to ten feet of practically pure muscle, cloaked in beautiful, smooth blue skin and glimmering with pretty glowing tahnì. They were slim and wire, agile and graceful in their movements and talented beyond anything a human could ever possibly possess.

So, discreetly, you would indulge in all sorts of capers. It was, admittedly, a lot of fun.

Sometimes you’d be offered pretty little gifts, clumsily complimented on your human looks and talents, or even simply carried away in heated moments of pleasure and experimentation.

But here was Aonung, nearly your best friend at this point, who just heard your vague answer to his curious question.

You can physically see the moment the connotation of your words sinks into his thick skull, and his eyes widen large as Pandora and his lips part in shock.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” you grin, flicking him on the shoulder. “You didn’t expect me to sit all tight and pretty and alone while practically stranded on an island of mega hot people, did you?”

Aonung looks as though he very much did expect that, or at least the thought of you fucking other members of his clan had certainly never crossed his mind. In fact, he looks nothing short of stupefied as he stares at you.

“Who?” he demands, an unmistakable scowl settling over his face.

“Really?” you laugh, rolling your eyes. “Like I’d tell you.”

“Why not?” he asks sullenly, muscles tense and jaw clenched.

“Because I know you, Aonung,” you smile. “And I know how you act around Tsireya with Lo’ak, and I don’t need your stupid ass scaring away my possible companions.”

“Companions,” he grunts with derisive amusement, before his scowl fixes once again and he furrows his brow once more. “You do know I do not see you as a sister, right?”

“Yeah well… don’t tell me that if I share who I’ve been with that you won’t get mad at them.”

Aonung pauses, and you can see he recognises your point; at the slightest mention of a name, Aonung would be up with the guy pinned up bruised and bloodied.

“So you like na’vi then?” Aonung questions. “Even though we’re double your height and could throw you twenty feet?”

“On the contrary,” you say with a sly, amusing grin, “that’s exactly what I like.”

When Aonung’s face slackens a little in shock, you laugh openly and shake your head.

“But who cares if I like na’vi- they’re hot and muscly, so it’s totally justified in my opinion!” you say with a wide, shameless grin. “The real question is why the guys were attracted to me – if humans are so small and weak looking or whatever else you giants think of us, then why would they want to fuck me?”

“That really is a whole other question,” Aonung sighs, rolling his eyes as though you’re being stupid. “But be honest, what do you think of me-”

He’s cut off by your pillow smacking him heavily in the face, and resurfaces to find your little frown a foot away from his.

“Hey, I was honest with you,” you scowl. Lie.

But you weren’t about to admit the truth – that your irritating friend is just about the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. You try to put it from your mind; those ten feet of pure muscle sculpted to glorious perfection only masked his stupidity and secret superpower of infuriating you with the slightest of comments or even glances.

“And what do you keep in that little book of yours then?” Aonung grins, looking infuriatingly smug.

You set down your beading with slight annoyance now, and you frown at your friend. He’s sat up now, propped back on his hands, head tilted to stare at you with that dangerous gleam that makes you want to question everything, every tone and muscle in his body practically glowing in the afternoon light.

“What book?” you ask wearily, forcing your eyes away from his body.

“You know,” he snickers. “The one you quickly stash away when you see me coming, that you think no one knows about? The little one you hide somewhere in this-”

“If you ever read that Aonung,” you threaten, suddenly on your feet with your face flushed deep deep red. God, what were you thinking trying to keep a diary? You’re an adult! “I swear to bloody mary that I will castrate you and burn everything I chop off.”

Aonung just chuckles, and you scowl.

“If you don’t want me going back to thinking you’re an absolute dick again- leave it.”

And finally he does, reluctantly.

All afternoon you can see him itching to question you more about it, burning with the desire to find out who you had been with, still shocked by the revelation that you fucked around with people in his clan, and he never even knew.

But he knows better than to push you, so he stays quiet, watching you work quietly.

When the sun sets and Kiri drops by to offer you eat with her and Rotxo, you say a quick goodbye to Aonung, who nods and leaves.

“What’s up with him?” Kiri asks, raising her brows at Aonung’s fading back, which is unmistakably tense. “What did you do to him?”

“He just found out about my romping around,” you shrug. “And he-”

“He what?” Kiri gawks, freezing in her steps so you smack into her and instantly fall back onto the ground. “Oh sorry- but YOU TOLD HIM?”

“Yes…?” you say slowly, confused why she’s so shocked. “He’s my friend.”

“So is Lo’ak, so is Neteyam,” Kiri points out. “But you aren’t telling them that you’re going around with-”

“That’s different,” you say quickly. “Lo’ak and Tey are like my brothers, and Aonung… is not.”

“Right,” Kiri says unconvinced.

There’s an awkward moment of silence in which she’s clearly waiting for you to say more.

“He’s infuriating,” you finally burst out.

“Yes he is,” Kiri agrees. She continues in her pointed silence as you move into her marui, until you finally can’t take it anymore.

“Fine!” you snap, face flushed. “He’s absolutely irritating in every way, and now he’s suddenly all caring about what I do in my own time with other guys? WE AREN’T EVEN A THING-”

“Are you sure about that?” Rotxo grins from the other side. “Just think about the way he acts when you’re around.”

“Annoying and cocky?” you huff, but you know what he means.

“Come on,” Kiri sighs, shaking her head at you with affection, “don’t tell me you’re this oblivious all of a sudden. What happened to my friend who used to have half the Omatikaya wrapped around her little finger, who could charm even the coldest of warriors? Where did all your psychicness go?”

“That’s not a word,” you grumble, hiding your unease with semantics.

“Okay enough,” Kiri sighs, pulling you up from where you had just comfortably settled on the floor and dragging you out to the entrance. “No more obliviousness.”

“Where are you taking me?” you moan, lazily allowing her to drag you off through the village, Rotxo trailing contentedly and obediently behind his mate.

“To get you changed,” she says carelessly. “We’re going out.”

Aonung wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting when he asked you that question. But he sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to hear that his little tawtute was getting her way around the clan.

You were his friend. Once even friend had been a loose term to describe your relationship, but he would be lying if he hadn’t know that from the moment he laid eyes of your small figure – barely even half the height of the Sullys as they landed in Awa’atlu with your curious eyes and strange clothing – that you were his.

But after some time when the two of you had warmed to one another, he had realised that he did not see you in a way that was even remotely platonic.

The reasoning for that was probably that he saw you everywhere; your face, your small hands, your little body.

On nights spent with various other girls, he found his eyes closing and his mind imagining it was you splayed out beneath him, your pretty little face twisted with the lewdest of moans. When, eventually, he gave up on trying to fuck these lustful profanities into other girls, cock in hand in the privacy of sheltered coves or his own marui, he would long for it to be your hand wrapped around his length, to feel your lips brushing over every inch of his body, sinking his fangs into your smooth, soft skin.

He tried to tell himself, all the rest of that afternoon which he spent fuming around his marui before the festivities of that night, that it wasn’t the fact that you were with other guys that was bothering him. You were a free woman, free to do what you liked, free to spend your time on other men.

But on the other hand, the men of his clan were of his clan.

They were Aonung’s people - not just in a metaphorical sense of belonging - they were not as free to do as they liked when Aonung would one day lead them. And they should damn well know better than to touch you.

They had no license to have you, touch you, even look at you.

Had Aonung not made it clear enough - even if you seemed completely oblivious to it - that you were his?

Sure, he made not have had you in that purely carnal aspect that you apparently had shared with worthless spineless skxawngs unfit to be in your very presence, but the way he acted around you, the gifts he brought to you, the way he protected you with all the ferocity boiling within him, even the way his scent lingers on your skin when he can’t be near you (even if your tawtute nose couldn’t smell it) marks you as if not his, then at least definitely untouchable.

So what were these shameless, perverted idiots playing at?

They, more than anyone, should know how Aonung can get when he sets his mind to something. And that one is you, and he’s not about to let anyone else dare lay so much a finger on your smaller body ever again. He’s already cursing himself for not realising all this sooner, letting you waste your time with men could live a thousand lifetimes and never deserve you. Which is why – when he sees you next, across the fire at a party – Aonung doesn’t take any chances.

It's a pretty typical Metkayina gathering, full of young warriors, hunters, village girls and other various clan members. Flasks of unilpay are being passed around and the air is rich with loud laughter, conversation, and other various drunken atrocities. The beach – cool in the clear night breeze – is basked in the balmy, warm glow of a bonfire. Sparks are flying gracefully up; flaming glimmers among the silver stars of the heavens.

“What were you thinking?” he demands in a low voice, striding straight up to Rotxo and grabbing his friend’s arm to face him. “Why is she here?”

“Kiri thought it would be good for her to come out for a bit,” Rotxo shrugs. Aonung scoffs, far too used to his best friend’s continual obedience to whatever Kiri does.

“I thought you were just going to have dinner, have a little chat, you know?” Aonung grumbles, looking away to scan the party, making sure you were far on the other side and alone with Kiri. “But now you bring her here?”

Rotxo settles back, looking slightly amused amidst his dawning understanding, and Aonung’s hand slowly falls from its tight grip around his arm.

“And what is so terrible about her being here?” Rotxo counters. “She’s been hanging around the village for ages, she’s been to these parties before. What’s your problem now?”

Aonung growls low under his breath. Frustration is starting to course through him. Rotxo knows what the answer is – what Aonung’s deal is, why he cares, why his gaze can’t seem to stop drifting towards you, but he’s waiting for the words to be spoken.

Instead, with a small huff of exasperation, Aonung pushes past Rotxo to approach you.

Through that short conversation that seemed an eternity, Aonung had not missed all the glances snuck covertly in your direction, shot from the corner of eyes and over shoulders and between the flickering flames separating you from most of the festivities.

You had changed since the afternoon, Aonung notices.

He didn’t quite understand tawtute customs, particularly your strange clothes that frustratingly covered so much of your body that na’vi clothing would usually be displaying with confidence and adoration, but he had spent enough time with you to know he had never seen you wear something like this.

He would have definitely remembered seeing you like this.

It’s hard to describe when the style is from a completely different species, but the thought that first crosses his mind is black. It was the first thing he notices after all, the black material cloaking over your body, brushing lightly over your soft skin.

You’ve worn things vaguely in this style before (dresh… cress… dress or something) but they had all been long and flowy and beautiful, yes, but this was so much more than that. It was stupid, actually, that only a change of outfit has Aonung’s heart seizing in his chest, throat bobbing and jaw clenched at the sight of you standing there, unilpay in one hand, the other moving to push your hair from your face.

It barely even covers your legs, and your arms and shoulders are left completely bare except for a wispy black strand that winds over your skin to vainly hold it up from your breasts. From Aonung’s view of you, he feels like just watching you is sinful. It’s wrong, to be seeing you like this, to be thinking these thoughts of you, but he can’t pull away from his view.

He had always known tawtute bodies were different to na’vi (all slim and muscular), and sometimes he found himself pleading that the next day your clothing would not be as flowy and coveraging as it always was, but he’d always beat back those sinful desires with the reminder of your positions.

But now, with the smooth skin of your thighs and slim shoulders and the ample curves of your body on full, glorious display, Aonung wonders how he ever managed to go without seeing you like this before.

You are always so small to him, but every curve of your body, in your thighs and hips and breasts and fuck.

Aonung stifles a low groan at all the thoughts flooding his filthy mind, and wrenches his gaze from the glorious glow of your soft skin under the dancing light of the fire.

And then, in several unconscious moments where Aonung has no clue what he’s doing, in several long strides to get him by your side without the pain of seconds apart from you, he’s beside you. You look up at him through your long dark lashes, and he also notices your lips look plumper and shinier than usual; the smooth rosiness gleaming tantalisingly up at him.

Not for the first time, he has to swallow a furious desire to sink his fangs lightly into your silky lips, and he immediately darts his gaze away – the method he always uses in vain attempts to stem those filthy, forbidden, longings.

“What are you doing here?” Aonung asks coldly, staring down at you from his metre above.

“Same as you,” you shrug. “I’m here to have fun.”

Aonung is not happy to hear that.

His glare moves straight to Kiri, who’s watching his displeased reaction with mingled interest and amusement. Obviously, her and Rotxo have some stupid ulterior motive or plot or something, but he won’t have any of it, not if it risks other guys getting anywhere near you.

But he can’t think of anything to do. If he tells you to leave then you’d doubtless shout at him and be in that pouty, pissed mood that you sometimes get into. And he can’t just flat out voice the truth, not with this many people standing around, not during one of the most unromantic settings he could imagine with tipsy warriors and a blazing fire.

From the moment he stood beside you though, the gazes moved away. Aonung’s pleased to find less and less eyes roving quickly over you, and the ones that do are quickly averted when he scowls at them.

Just as he thinks maybe it’ll be over – that no one will bother you anymore – people start to dance. Aonung had been friends with you long enough to know this was your favourite part of any festivity. You loved to watch the sway and undulation and grace of the na’vi in their movements, the beautiful delicacy of the clothing gleaming under the stars and tails coiling and moving in timely leisure.

And he also knows it will surely be a matter of time before you want to join in or worse, someone else asks you to dance.

So he sits gracelessly down next to you, on that log you’ve perched yourself on top of. The weight of his body suddenly seated beside you makes your little body jolt a little, but you grit your teeth with a small eye roll and discreetly dig your fingers into the bark. He spreads out a little, ensuring there is no more room on the log, with you seated between Kiri’s slim, tall figure and his own broad, muscular body.

Kiri certainly doesn’t miss this gesture (or the meaning behind it), but she hides her small smile with a sip from her coconut. You, on the other hand, are so entranced by the dancing that you don’t notice when Aonung spreads his legs a little wider so his muscular thigh is brushing against your small, soft, slightly squishy one he wordlessly loves so much.

You continue to watch with wordless awe, and Aonung sits, contented with the fact that no one has dared approach yet.

Yet when some stupid warrior – Tsu’kae, Aonung thinks his name is – blantantly turns to stare at you with shameless, disgustingly lustful interest, Aonung decides he has to step it up. Has he not made it fucking clear enough that you are his?

Slowly so he doesn’t attract too much of your attention, Aonung leans back and slips his arm to rest on his hands on either side of his body. This way, you’re closed in between his firmly planted hand and his own body, without any space on the log for anyone else.

When you finally notice Aonung’s stretched out into your space, you grumble faintly about his stupid giant body and his lack of care for personal space, but you settle back to rest your head lightly against his arm behind you.

Aonung tries not to tense, completely unprepared for your comfort against him, thrown of by your soft hair cascading and your face resting gently against his arm, lips inches away from brushing his skin yet your breath ghosts warm and present against him.

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper faintly to him, and he tries to ignore the fact that each word is whispered nearly right against his veins, as though your voice is coursing straight to his heart. You shiver lightly beside him.

“Yeah,” he replies in a low voice, throat feeling quite tight and strained; it isn’t exactly easy to scare off any other guys when he’s already about to explode just having you this close.

He feels slightly stupid; you’re watching the dances with awe and appreciation and a distant melancholy, desirous longing, and of course, he’s watching you. With equal ferocity, just excelling past with unbearable, flaming tendrils of frustrated craving snaking through his veins, seizing his heart and freezing his mind.

It’s only when he finally manages to tear his gaze away from you, with the same effort it takes to fell an akula, that he notices Tsu’kae is no longer on the sand amidst the dancing Metkayina. In fact, he’s on the outskirts, conspicuously sliding closer with slimy, transparent steps to get closer to you.

With a fierce stab of selfishness for what is his, Aonung finds his arm – the one caging you beside him – sweeping closer and bringing you with it, so you’re gently slid along the long till you’re pressed against his solid side.

You squint up at him with slight suspicious confusion, and he almost misses that little tense, gleam in your eyes. He can also hear the gentle, warm beats of your heart pick up, but he puts all the possibilities of reasonings of that from his mind to watch with cold irritation as Tsu’kae finally makes his way besides you.

“May I sit here?” he asks, glancing dubiously at the log.

Aonung, with a sudden desire to kick himself for his carelessness, realises to late that in pulling you towards him, he mistakenly left space on the log for someone to sit.

Unfortunately, Tsu’kae misses Aonung’s glower, which was a clear dismissal of the inferior warrior. You, finally, seemed to have some tiny inkling of the situation, because you glance briefly up at Aonung as though asking if Tsu’kae can join you.

The clear answer was no, but Aonung knew you well enough to guess that your unfortunate habit of masterfully ignoring unspoken orders may be about to be practised. Instead, he settled himself on a much more enjoyable option.

“Sure,” he rumbles to Tsu’kae, who looks a little startled, as though he wasn’t expecting to get personally addressed by Aonung.

Before he can sit beside you on the log, Aonung’s reaching over to lift you up and settle you comfortably in his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise to find yourself suddenly lifted as though you weigh nothing. Tsu’kae watches with mingled fascination and strange terror at Aonung’s plain message – you cannot have her.

Yet maybe Aonung didn’t completely think this plan through.

You’d never sat on his lap before, and although he’d often thought about it, how your squishy thighs and curvy hips would feel resting softly over his own would feel, how light and small and delicate you’d be against him, this was completely different.

He can feel everything about you. Your thighs – almost completely bare as the fabric of your clothing hitches all the way up to your ass – are pressed against his own, your skin all warm and soft and so velvety, deliciously smooth. Your body is still slightly tense despite your feigned nonchalance, and he can feel the tightness of your body resting on his.

And he can smell you. It’s warm, just a comforting, familiar scent that he spends all day breathing in, memorising and filing away into the back of his mind where, in the shelter and privacy of his own marui in those helplessly longing night, he can build up that image of you in your imagined lewd actions for him and to him. There’s something over the top of it, something new and flowery you must have just applied for tonight.

He has to fight a physical urge to just bury his entire face in the warm of your neck – your soft hair falling around him – and simply scenting you to the point everything else just completely ceases to exist and with his eyes closed and heart thumping, all that surrounds him is you and your warmth.

It takes Aonung a moment to remind himself where he is, surrounded by everyone, sitting beside the still-gaping Tsu’kae. To remind himself that it isn’t just the two of you alone, and especially that you are only friends, and it would probably be a little surprising if he finally just succumbed to all the filthy desires that suddenly seem a thousand times stronger than usual.

You’re finally relaxing on his lap, muscles untensing and breath coming in soft nature. The only downside is that when you loosen a little and stop sitting like there’s a splint to your spine, the soft curve of your ass, barely even covered by your clothing now, settles inches away from his crotch.

Aonung has a small surge of panic when his blood rushes south, but he just masks his soft groan as a hum of appreciation for the dance.

Eywa, he really didn’t think this through.

Never once had he taken the warnings of his mother, father, sister and basically the whole rest of the clan to heart – never once accepted that one day, his impulsivity might have consequences.

But the thought of what you might do when you realise how hard your so called “friend” is by you simply sitting on his lap is too much to bear.

What if you think he’s some crazy sort of desperate perv? What if you never see him the same, and everything is ruined and awkward and dangerous between the two of you? What if you tell Neteyam and Lo’ak and they beat the absolute shit out of him for acting like this?

Fuck.

From the corner of his eye – Aonung’s too scared to move enough to properly turn his head – he can see Tsu’kae all awkward and stupid and helpless. It should now be quite obvious his position in this situation; that he has no place here, anywhere near you.

Now getting over your surprise of being suddenly nestled in your friend’s lap, you’re starting to settle back. You’ve rested yourself against his chest, and he grits his teeth, jaw clenched and fangs sinking lightly into his lip.

Your hair is pillowing your head lightly where it rests, barely even at his chest and right below the fang of his necklace. Your back – nearly completely bare with the low cut of your soft clothing – is settled firmly against his abs, and the warmth your skin on his is oddly comforting, mollifying his slight ferocity.

The soft, sweet scent of you is closer now, more obvious below whatever that other flowery smell you’re wearing is, and Aonung tries his best to keep his breathing even so you won’t notice how he’s breathing in your scent.

But trying to act like just the proximity and scent and feel of you isn’t getting him hard is more difficult than it looks, and Aonung strains his brain to think of ways to delay the inevitable of when you finally notice the ever-growing tent in his tewng.

“Would you like anything to drink?” Tsu’kae offers after a moment of tense silence that you don’t seem to notice. Aonung wonders faintly if your human senses just don’t pick up this sort of tension, or maybe you really are just infuriatingly, endearingly oblivious.

“Yes, thank you,” you say, shifting to give him a little smile.

A fierce stab of strange jealously blossoms like fire inside of Aonung, suddenly scorching his veins and he has a sudden desire to smack that returned, almost-shy-to-hide-his horniness smirk off Tsu’kae’s face. He probably would have, had you not leaned back against him and shimmied your soft ass to lay right over the ridge of his hardened cock.

Aonung gives a sudden jolt, nearly tossing you unceremoniously from his lap and even more mortifyingly - accidentally grinding his tented, straining tewng against the curve of your ass.

There’s a moment in which Aonung thinks you are about to scream at him, turn and curse him out for his lewd state. He can hear your heart pick up suddenly, see the tips of your small, roundish ears go slightly pink, watch a flush creep along back of your neck.

“Do you mind?” you grumble. “If you’re going to try cockblocking me, at least don’t nearly throw me around. I was perfectly comfortable, you bumbling skxawng.”

Aonung blinks in sluggish silence, your words sinking into his brain till he realises with an overwhelming surge or relief that you didn’t notice. Eywa, he’s never been so thankful of the simplicity of human anatomical function.

 “I’m not trying to cock block you,” he says instead, and you scoff.

“Please,” you say stoutly, and Aonung can just imagine you rolling your eyes in that amused way you always do. “You really have no idea how conspicuous you are, dumbass.”

“I am not,” Aonung says with a frown, ignoring the human name he doesn’t understand. “Besides, you could do much better than the likes of Tsu’kae.”

“Really?” you say coolly. Aonung suddenly can’t picture what your face looks like; your tone is completely unreadable as though you’re trying to make it even, hiding whatever you’re actually thinking right now. “And what is so terrible about Tsu’kae?”

“He’s dim-witted,” Aonung points out. “Slow, unreliable, terrible at spear throwing-”

“Ah yes,” you interrupt, “everything I look for in a hook-up; his spear throwing abilities.”

“And he’s obviously just horny,” Aonung adds, ignoring the now painful tent in his tewng and the heavy irony of his words. He looks pointedly across the party, and you follow his gaze to see Tsu’kae standing with his friends, drinking heavily from a flask, getting a few hyping smacks from his mates as they no doubt discuss you.

“So someone would just have to be horny to fuck me?” you huff, turning your neck to glare at him. Aonung bites down a small groan as you accidentally shift on his crotch. “There’s nothing else endearing about me, it would just depend on their arousal?”

“No,” Aonung says quickly, but your scowl is deepening the longer it takes for him to find the right words – ones that don’t give away his own… excitement. “There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Who said anything about there being something wrong with me?” you snap, brows furrowing and face now torn between fury and something he can’t quite make out.

“No one- nothing- what?” Aonung stammers, confused at why you’re suddenly so upset. “You are just far too good for Tsu’kae. He does not deserve your time.”

“Then who does?” you ask sullenly, slightly folding into yourself, yet you still don’t pull away from your seat in his lap. “What about Sokzu-”

“He is arrogant,” Aonung shoots the idea down.

“What about Ta’ru-”

“Incompetent,” Aonung interrupts again.

“Or Kayo-”

“Lazy-”

“Zäki?”

“Seriously,” Aonung says firmly, now frowning too. “Do you seriously think any of these skxawngs are worth your interest?”

Your mouth twitches at his words, though he still has no fucking clue what you’re thinking.

“What are you trying to say, Aonung?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

You’re still looking up at him, eyes large and shimmering in the light from the fire and scattered stars. Aonung swallows, gaze darting quickly down to your glossy lips before fixing back on your face. He can’t look away.

“I brought you unilpay,” a voice interrupts.

You both turn to see Tsu’kae standing there, looking a little rumpled and disorientated. It couldn’t have been more obvious that he’s drunk now, and Aonung doesn’t fail to notice your nose scrunch for an instant before you smooth out your face and take it with a small smile and a thank you.

Completely oblivious and obviously stupid, Tsu’kae continues to stand awkwardly, before he seems to gather enough courage to ask, “Would you like to come for a walk, tawtute?”

Instantly, Aonung’s blood has turned to ice. He doesn’t even look at you before snapping, “She’s good.”

Tsu’kae’s face falls in a small frown, and he, – stupidly – drops his own flask on the sand to clench his fists.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” he slurs. “I was talking to her.”

“And I gave you an answer,” Aonung counters, eyes narrowing at the disrespect this meager warrior is displaying. “She’s not going to go anywhere with you.”

Again, Tsu’kae fails to pull himself together and show the proper respect. He steps closer, face pulled into a little frown as he raises his brows at Aonung.

“And what are you going to do to stop her?” he leers. “If she wants to come?”

“Do you want to go?” Aonung asks you, a small furrow between his brows as he looks down at you. You’re all wide-eyed and wordless, eyes darting between Aonung and Tsu’kae who scowls.

“Of course she want-”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Aonung hisses through gritted teeth. “Do you want to go with him?”

Your lips part. You don’t seem to have any answer to give, and you just stare blankly at Aonung, still seated in his lap. Finally, Tsu’kae’s drunken patience seems to have run out, and his hand closes around your tiny wrist.

“Come on taw-”

You’re no sooner pulled helplessly off Aonung than he’s on his feet, then finding his fist sinking satisfyingly into Tsu’ake’s jaw. The stupid warrior lets out a surprised grunt and stumbles back, dragging your little figure with his weight.

“Let her go,” Aonung says coolly, reaching to grab your other arm.

It’s a little awkward, and you’re wincing slightly at the grip of each arm clutched by the two men. People are starting to turn and stare now, and you’re struggling to free yourself.

“Now,” Aonung adds.

Reluctantly, Tsu’kae lets go of your wrist with a frustrated huff, and you flinch at the angry red mark on your skin from where he touched you. Aonung’s heart thuds irately at the mark, and he gently pushes you behind him.

“Touch her again,” Aonung hisses, stepping closer to hide your nervously watching figure, “and I kill you.”

Tsu’kae just laughs, before making to shove Aonung backwards. Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t shift in the slightest, and Tsu’kae stumbles into Aonung, who grips the skxawng by the back of his neck. Instantly, Tsu’kae winces away, averting his eyes and vainly trying to get away.

“Pathetic,” Aonung says coolly, pulling him up to study him further. “You actually thought you’d get to have time with her.”

Tsu’kae lets out a small hiss and brings his fist up to smack into Aonung’s cheek. It isn’t particularly painful,  but a blow is a blow and Aonung tosses him to the side. He slams unceremoniously into the sand, where he’s met with small stifled laughter and disapproving glances. You’re still gaping at Aonung, who gently kneels beside you.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. You nod, eyes raking over his face before your fingertips reach out to trace lightly over the mark of Tsu’kae’s laughable punch. “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

No one else makes a noise, but Aonung can feel all eyes on your retreating backs as he leads you away. He can still feel the burn of disbelieving attention on him as the party fades away and the woven walkways of the village come into view. More importantly, he can feel eyes on you, and, desperate to make sure you don’t feel uneasy, he places a wide hand on your back to lightly steer you in front, out of the way of prying eyes.

When he drops you off at your marui, it’s with a strange ache in his chest.

You look tired and the gloss of your lips is nearly completely gone now. You smile up at him at the entrance, but when he turns to leave, he can sense your drunkenness. Not for the first time, he curses how strong na’vi alcohol is to you, and before you know what’s happening, he’s turned back and steered you all the way into your marui and laid you down on the bed.

“Here,” he instructs, handing you a small flask of water. “Drink this before you sleep.”

“You’re looking after me,” you smile stupidly. Aonung wants to kick himself for not noticing how tipsy you had been in the distraction of everything, but he just rolls his eyes at your dopiness.

“Well, I didn’t go to all this trouble tonight to just leave you like this,” Aonung says wearily, reaching for one of those black stretchy things you use for your hair and clumsily tying it back for you. “Eywa, you’re just going to have to sleep in this.”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumble softly, a small furrow forming between your brows.

Aonung could have sworn those words could have punched the breath out of him – and he fights down a desire to tell you just how pretty you look, how you always look.

Instead, he just gently pats your forehead and whispers, “Just get some sleep.”

You nod obediently, never taking your eyes off his face as he fusses about, straightening your bed, making sure there’s water beside you. But when he turns to leave, you softly whisper out his name.

Aonung turns back. You don’t say anything, just continuing to stare at him. It’s a tense moment of silence, until you finally sigh.

“Goodnight,” you whisper. Aonung doesn’t reply, just giving you a soft smile.

It’s not until Aonung’s back in his own marui, flopping down onto his bed with a groan, does he remember exactly what had happened.

It’s filthy and humiliating, that the second he remembers the moment – the scent and the proximity and the feel of you seated in his lap – his tewng is growing stranglingly tight once more.

This has happens much more than Aonung would ever readily admit. He tries his utmost to not even think about it. But once more, he can’t help but palm himself lightly through the thin fabric of his tewng that has put up quite the struggle tonight.

Eywa, just the thought of you at that party – hair flowing over your bare back, the glow of your skin and the softness of your thighs, breathing in your warm sweet scent, the same one that’s now slowly fading from his skin that you had been so gloriously pressed against.

Fuck.

Really, who is this hurting? he justifies himself as he impatiently tears away his tewng. It’s just to take the edge off. It doesn’t mean anything.

Filthy. Lewd. Wrong.

But he can’t bring himself to process all the copious issues of what he’s doing when everything about you is fresh in his mind, stuck in his mind, and using that young horny man logic that dubiously validates each of these moments, he lets himself sink into those coarse imaginations.

There’s a million of them, layered on top of one another, flooding and racing through his mind.

Ones in which you’re squirming under him, ones in which your soft thighs are nestled tightly around his face. Ones with your head thrown back as you top him, ones where you’re arched against the floor, tears streaming down your sweet, pretty little face as his hips rut into your own.

When he accidentally tightens his grip around himself, he imagines just how much better your hand would feel around his length, all small and silky and smooth.

There’s something just so filthy about this.

You are his little friend - his - but what would you be thinking if you knew he did this?

Even so, he can’t help remembering just how right it felt to have the soft curve of your ass nestled right up against his crotch, and then he’s speeding up with helpless, lewd desperation.

Your lips, all glossed and plump and parted to glorious perfection swim in his mind as he fails to stifle a sharp groan. The thought of them brushing over his own, over his chest, wrapping light and tight and warm around his length does him in with searing speed.

His release, spilling hopelessly and copiously into his tightened fist, blazes with the hot shame of it.

Aonung has felt this familiar embarrassed self-disgust before, quite a familiar after effect of these nights filled with thoughts of you, but this just feels so much… more.

Your words come to cross his mind again; “Why would people be attracted to me?”

The real answer is how could anyone fucking not be.

But that wasn’t entirely satisfactory, because Aonung was fully prepared to murder anyone who had the foolish balls to pursue you.

His little friend.

That same blazing shame doesn’t go away after a restless nights’ sleep.

Aonung wakes up, amidst the unwelcome sunlight filtering into his marui, to find that he can’t bring himself to face you quite yet. Of course, it’s just his luck that when he drags himself up to deal with the impatient hammering at his entrance, he’s met with you.

“Morning!” you say chirpily, which tells him clearly that you’ve mostly forgotten the events of the night before. “Tsireya’s forcing me to come to the beach, and I refuse to go without you.”

Aonung’s about to make some lame excuse, based loosely of his clan duties and his tiredness, but then your words process.

“You will go swimming?” he asks dubiously.

“Yup.”

And that does it.

Aonung has been trying to get you to come swimming for months, and he has to fight that little twinge of jealousy that it’s Tsireya that finally managed to convince you. However, when you bound away to where Tsireya, Rotxo, and the Sullys are waiting, Aonung finds himself following thoughtlessly.

You’re chatting animatedly with Kiri and Neteyam, and Aonung allows his eyes to quickly wander over you as he trails behind the group.

You’ve changed out of your short black clothing, though Aonung is delighted to find that once again, you aren’t hiding as much of your body as you typically do.

The little shorts you are wearing are just that. Little. They barely stretch over the curve of your ass, and ties of bikini bottoms are poking up out of the low waist. The top you’re wearing – a simple white tank – is also perfectly tight enough that Aonung can see the faint outline of a triangular bikini top.

The part that nearly makes his knees buckle is the slim line of your stomach visible between your top and shorts, where he can see the perfect soft squidge of your figure, and the little jiggle of your thighs with every step you take.

When you make it down to the beach, sun warming your skin and the soft ocean lapping against the sand surrounding you, you manage to surprise him further.

You don’t follow the others immediately into the water. You unbutton those little shorts and shimmy them down your body, before reaching up to tug off your top.

Oh.

Fuck.

You really had been right; Aonung had no idea how conspicuous he was.

Suddenly, after all that training of mastering himself, he simply cannot wrench or drag or tear his gaze away from you. Instead, he stands awkward and gaping like an idiot at the sight of you almost completely bare.

After so long of needing his imagination to picture you like this, seeing your body this gloriously bare could damn well killed him. In fact, Aonung’s sure even with your tawtute senses, you would surely know his heart just stopped, his blood heating, his brain stalling.

But you just shoot him a cheeky, knowing grin before innocently asking, “What?”

“Nothing,” Aonung clears his throat, painfully aware of his flushed face. “Should- uh – should we get in?”

You just roll your eyes at him and race in. He doesn’t watch the sway of your body as you slowly go into the water. He doesn’t need to resist the urge to just pick you up again, maybe even help you with your breathing.

He supposes he should be impressed with your swimming, but your size and ill adjustment to swimming in the ocean – especially beside na’vi – slows you down, and eventually he ends up just offering you a hand. He highly suspects that you’re not even swimming, just allowing yourself to be pulled leisurely through the water, but he isn’t going to complain.

You have this adorable little look of awe on your face, as though you thoroughly regret only now coming swimming after months of being begged to. Aonung faintly wonders why you never did come.

After a while, you all swim back to the shallows. The Sully’s, Rotxo and Tsireya are all running and splashing around, and Aonung notices you struggling to tread water (he notices with a small smile that you can’t reach the bottom).

“You good there?” he grins, wading over to you.

“Yep,” you huff, kicking up to keep your head at least above the water.

“Need a hand?” he snickers. “You look like you’re having a little trouble. Do yo-”

“Just get over here skxawng,” you grumble.

The moment he’s in arms reach, you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck and straddled your legs tight around him. You huff a little for breath, resting your face in the crook of his neck, warm breath fanning across his sensitive skin.

Tsireya looks over, and she shoots her brother a small, knowing smile. Aonung just rolls his eyes back, but he finds himself shifting you around his body so he can somewhat cradle you – your body wrapped around his side, supported lightly by one of his arms.

“You know,” Kiri says with delicate mirth, “we should be heading back soon, right Ro?”

“Yeah,” Rotxo agrees, looking equally happy at the sight of you (even if unintentionally so) cuddled against Aonung. “You coming Neteyam?”

“We’ll come too,” Tsireya grins, tugging Lo’ak along behind her.

You watch them all go, still slightly breathless. Aonung has a small suspicion you know exactly why they’re leaving, but you make no effort to shift away from him, and you wave them off.

Tsireya has to give Lo’ak and extra hard tug to pull him away. The Sully boys’ brotherly protection has always been a reason Aonung kept the truth away from you, but he thinks at this point he really just is completely conspicuous.

“Are you alright?” Aonung asks, pulling back slightly to push your head from your face.

And suddenly, he notices something.

There’s none of that fierce, bantery spark that blazes between your eyes. Instead, you’re just staring at him with complete and utter… something.

Aonung has never wanted more that you had a tail and na’vi ears so he can better gage your thoughts, but you’re just completely unreadable.

Your eyes are raking over his face; he can feel their trail burning into his skin as though you were physically touching him. You’re inches away.

He clears his throat.

No no no.

Eventually, you tread out of the water to stretch in the soft sand cast into relieving shade, beneath the shelter of the tropical canopy. Aonung lies down beside you, throat feeling strangely tight.

There is something different. Something off.

And there’s a sinking feeling that tells him things just won’t go back to normal. Which is why he decides he needs to settle this out.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he says quietly, staring up at the canopy above.

It’s green.

You give a little hum of acknowledgement.

“What for?” you reply quietly.

“For causing a little scene,” Aonung says quietly.

He counts seventeen little pink flowers in the tree above.

“Right.”

“And cutting you off,” he adds in a mumble.

He thinks there might be several birds hiding between the spindly, delicate fronds.

You don’t reply. He still doesn’t risk a glance at you.

“And for upsetting you.”

There’s another moment of silence. Aonung swears you must be able to hear his heartbeat. You exhale slowly.

“I’m not upset,” you say quietly.

Aonung turns to look at you. You’re also looking up at the canopy, wet hair spilling over the sand, body glittering with the droplets of water still shining on your skin. You swallow.

“You aren’t?” he asks, trying not to sound too relieved. You shake your head slightly, still not turning to meet his gaze.

“Nope,” you sigh, wearily popping the p. “It’s just- um… why did you do it?”

“Do what.”

“The whole thing,” you say, gesturing in front of you. “Of protecting me and making sure I didn’t make a mistake. Plus the… the um…”

Aonung stares in disbelief. He’s never seen you go this long without loudly and shamelessly voicing your opinions. The struggle to get out a single sentence is really quite unnerving for him.

“The whole kill him if he touches me thing,” you blurt in a quick breath, face flushed and eyes refusing to meet his.

It’s Aonung’s turn to blink. He does so in owlish silence, watching the light filtering contentedly through the canopy above while his mind works furiously to find a legitimate answer to your question.

“You are small,” Aonung says finally, carefully tiptoeing around the truth, but really, any more time to think is quite unacceptable given the length of his ponderous silence. “And delicate and sweet. I do not wish anyone-”

“I am not weak,” you interrupt, a small frown on your sweet little face. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

He swallows heavily. Those words feel suddenly painful in his chest.

That’s who he was – he protected you, even if you didn’t know it yet. He was the one that stood by you, stood over you, and that warmth and shade he cast over you meant so much more than you thought.

Eywa, how well he could protect you if you let him.

You must have noticed how those words hit him – how his ears drooped and tail swept dejectedly through the sand.

“Aonung?” you say quietly, propping yourself up on one arm and staring at him. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No,” he says, far too fast to be believable. Your mouth twitches in a wry smile, and you scoot closer.

“You always were a terrible liar,” you whisper. At Aonung’s bitter little huff, your smile widens slightly, before fading entirely. He wants to do anything to bring it back. “At least - you could never convince me.”

“Fine,” Aonung mumbles, resigning himself to the fact that there’s no going back.

He knows you know something’s wrong, and he can tell that this friendship is already crumbling away into something else – something unintelligible and unfathomable to him.

“They are not fit for you, tsawksyul.”

You flinch back, and Aonung wonders faintly if it’s because of the name, or his words, or the harsh desperation with which he spoke them, and he reaches slowly for you. You lean back from him, face twisted with confused hurt.

“Then who is?” you say dully.

“Not anyone here,” Aonung tells you.

Once again, he has no idea how to gage your feelings. It’s strange really, that he’s gone from how lustful and filthy he was last night to how just overwhelmingly… fluffy he feels right now.

But apparently you aren’t finding his words how he intended them, because your face is twisting in a very obvious scowl.

“So… I don’t get anyone,” you say.

Aonung isn’t stupid, he sees the way your eyes are narrowing to indicate the very clear correct answer to your trembly question, but then again, he is stupid when it comes to you.

“You don’t need anyone.”

Instantly he knows that was the wrong thing to say. Your chest seems to swell and your face flushes as you sit upright and glare at him.

“Right,” you snap.

“Have I upset you?” Aonung asks slowly, wondering what he did when his brain feels as though it’s made of jelly.

“Nice observation sherlock,” you huff. “You’d want me to end up all sad and alone with no one to love me, just so I don’t fuck some of your clan mates? What, are you jealous or something? Do you think that you’d be that much better?”

No sooner are the words from your mouth then Aonung’s body betrays him – reacting before his mind can process. But the way he flinches back and flushes makes you freeze, and your eyes widen.

“Well…” he stammers, trying to dig himself out of this stupid hole he got into. “Yes?”

“And why is that,” you huff, standing up on your little legs, barely at his height and fist balled with rage. “You really think you’re that much better than everyone else? I thought you got over your cocky entitlement phase but now here you are, desperate to show that you’re the biggest, hottest thing in the clan.”

Aonung’s brain is too muddled to think. This is all going so, so wrong.

“No!” he says quickly, so desperate to try and speak properly that his voice comes out as something of a shout. You look shocked for a moment, flinched back from him, and he instantly reaches towards you. “I’m sorry-”

“You know,” you say stiffly, stepping out of his reach, “I thought you weren’t like this anymore. God, I wasted so much time, and you only ever started noticing me in this way when you found out I – as an adult woman by the way – was not some little … celibate fucking nun!”

“In what way?” Aonung asks, confused.

You let out a noise somewhere between a sob and a furious growl, then let out an unnerving laugh.

“Are you fucking serious?” you snap. “You’re the most self-centered person I’ve ever met! I thought we grew up, that not everything would be a competition and we could have a mature friendship if we could never be… UGH! But you are genuinely the most infuriating, entitled, interfering, emulous ass I’ve ever had the misfortune to befriend! I mean what is wrong with me?”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Aonung says, frowning.

“Well there obviously fucking is if I love you!”

You freeze. So does he.

Your words – irrevocable, irreversible and so gleamingly inescapable hang in the still, tense air.

The beach is completely empty albeit the faintly lapping waves and drifting shade of the trees, and of course those words. The ones that change everything, break everything, ruin the friendship you have spent years building.

Aonung just sits in dumbfounded, perplexed silence. Breath after breath. He seems to have forgotten how to breathe, and in the strange, almost reminiscently ironic moments he takes to try and figure it out, you’ve turned faintly green, flushed deeper than the flowers above you, then paled in blunt mortification.

“Oh god,” you whisper, covering your face when your brain kicks in and you remember to move. Aonung still hasn’t said anything, and even though he can see that’s breaking you, he just isn’t able to speak. “Please… say something skxawng.”

Silence.

“Oh god,” you say again, shaking your head, lip trembling slight. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything- I’m just going to-”

“I love you too.” 

“Please just forget- wait what?”

There’s a moment when everything stops. The sea seems to stall, the wind dies and the canopy stiffens. Aonung notes that your hair is still being blown gently in some absent breeze.

Your eyes look slightly red and slightly wet and your lips are parted in surprise. The longer Aonung stares at you, the deeper that little frowning furrow between your brows grows. He’s vaguely aware of his heart thumping – so loud and fast that under different circumstances, he may have even been worried about it – but he can’t summon any thoughts into his brain.

“Since when,” you whisper. Your voice is nothing more than a trembly breath, and if Aonung hadn’t been na’vi, if he hadn’t been watching you so intently to gage that your lips moved, he would have still been trapped in this tense silence.

“Since fucking forever,” he groans, rubbing his face tiredly. “I thought you were supposed to be all smart and all-knowing when it came to romance and crushes and shit.”

“Just because you are completely and irrevocably stupidly oblivious,” you scoff, “does not make me a genius in comparison.”

“So we’re just two little lovestruck idiots, then?”

“Guess so.”

There’s a moment of silence before it really does process to both of you. Aonung’s head snaps up, eyes wide and lips stretched with a fat dopey smile only to find yourself already launching yourself into his arms.

When he catches you, he’s sure he’ll never be able to let you go. Your hands reach to cup his face, which seems comically large in comparison, smiling in delighted disbelief before you let out a small, wet laugh.

“God, I love you.”

Aonung doesn’t even respond- barely even processes your words beyond a surge of overwhelming ecstacy, and presses his lips to yours.

Fuck.

Eywa.

How had he managed to go this long without this.

All those moments staring at your lips meant nothing when compared to the actual feel of them; soft, warm, tentative at first as you brush them over his own. There’s something so sweet about you, and he has a blissful idea that you’re melting on his tongue.

Aonung can feel those last tenterhooks of your friendship splintering and tearing apart at the feeling of your lips against his.

Well, good riddance.

Aonung’s hand finds its way into your hair, hand resting steadily on the back of your neck. Your mouth is small, cushioned by those soft warm lips, but you open your mouth wide and eager, hungry and tentative and exploratory and everything in between.

You’re making all these little huffy noises, as though desperate for breath but unable to pull away from him. When your smooth, small body shifts to press itself closer against him, Aonung groans unrestrainedly into your mouth, and he swears to Eywa you could kill him.

When he’d imagined this – during those late nights hidden deep in his marui fisting his cock – you’d been different. Sometimes you’d be sweet and nervous and tentative, at others you’d be desperate and ravenous and impatient.

Nothing could have prepared you for this, not even his copious, overwhelming dreams and hopes and desires for this. Nothing could have readied him to have you here and now, lips against his, tongue pressed against his, bodies tight against one another.

He’s so hard he thinks he might actually die, but he’ll be damned to pull away to deal with his own needs. All that matters now, all that exists right now is you, your scent, your lips, your body all beside him and around him and so hungry for him.

When he’s worried you’re quite about to suffocate, he slides his lips sideways to press hungry kisses along your jaw. You let out small, breathy gasps, fingers tangling in his hair, arms clinging tight around his neck to steady yourself as his lips find their way steadily back to you.

As your lips smash onto his once more, Aonung marvels at the way his hand – splayed out to hold you up – spans across the whole damn length of your back. When his fingers lightly trace their way up your spine, you shiver against him, soothed by his hand carding gently through your hair.

Your tongue licks lightly over his fangs, and Aonung, surprised, jerks back at the strange sensitivity. That felt different, and he wonders faintly how in all the meaningless, irrelevant kisses he’s shared in his lifetime, that’s never happened before, or at least made him feel so sensitive.

“You good?” you smile against his lips, but he suspects it’s more of a smirk. You know exactly what you’re doing.

“Yeah,” he says, feeling breathless and completely inflamed. “Yeah… I’m good.”

Your tongue teases over his fangs again. When he moans shamelessly back into your mouth, you giggle and cuddle him closer. Aonung laughs with you. It’s an almost painful relief from the overwhelming heat of the moment.

You’re still breathing heavily with that wide smile on your face when you stop giggling, but when Aonung meets your gaze, he can’t read your expression. He thinks for a moment you’re going to push him back, tell him to slow down, but then your gaze darkens ominously.

“Let’s get back,” you breathe exultantly.

“Why-”

“Because I don’t really feel like fucking for the first time with you on the sand of an exposed beach,” you grin.

“So we’re going to fuck?” Aonung asks hopefully, the corners of his mouth curling with delight.

“Up to you,” you grin, standing up and backing away from him in the direction of the village. “I mean, you could stay here in the shade, listen to the pretty birdies and watch the ocean-”

You cut off with a delighted giggle as Aonung sweeps you up as though you weigh nothing and tears off towards the village.

He ignores the stares of the clan as he storms his way towards his marui, though he must admit you must be quite the sight – you nearly completely bare in your little swimsuit, bundled up in his arms and shifty smiles stretched wide across your faces.

He practically crashes into his marui, not bothering to slip his way through the woven entrance but bursting through it and kicking it carelessly back into place with his tail.

You laugh – sweet and clear and loud – as he tosses you against the bed and crawls over to you. There’s barely a thought in his brain than you, with your breathy little gasps and hands raking through his hair and soft, warm lips.

When he buries his nose in the soft, exposed crook between your shoulder and neck, you jolt in surprise. You smell so sweet. Aonung wonders vaguely if he’s in heaven, surrounded by your arms encircling him, buried and deluged in your warm, sweet scent.

He’s extremely pleased to note you’re already starting to smell like him – a faint trace of sea breeze and amber noticeable on you, but he isn’t about to stop until you smell of nothing but him, until every person in this clan can see his plain mark on you, know that you are his and his alone.

And then he can’t stop himself from sinking his fangs lightly into that warm exposed skin.

You instantly squirm underneath him, arching up against him with a surprised gasp. You are just so soft, and his teeth sink with impossible ease into your neck. No sooner has he done it then he’s lightly licking the small pearls of blood away and pressing a light kiss for good measure.

And then he does it again. And again – adorning you with a necklace of gleaming ruby bites, better than any jewellery he would make, prettier than any pearls or shells he would collect. He doesn’t know if you understand them, that claim and those marks, but he’ll make sure you know that you’re his.

“Aonung,” you gasp, gripping at his face to tug him away and force him to look at you. “Aonung!”

“Yes?” he asks, slightly irritated you stopped him from continuing.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathe, pupils blown wide, chest heaving with the desperation of your gasps, face flushed in glorious exultation.

“Not yet tsawksyul,” he says. A small glare is forming in your eyes, and he nearly laughs at your ravenous impatience. “You are not ready yet.”

“Yes I am,” you snap, scowling at him. “I’ve taken na’vi men before, just-”

“Patience,” he whispers, hand reaching up to rest against your face, thumb brushing over your frowning lips.

You look like you’re about to shout at him when Aonung’s hand leaves your face and finds it’s way to the little knots on the side of your bikini.

“Is this alright?” he asks gently. No sooner are the words out of his mouth then you’re nodding with irritated fervour, and he pulls lightly on the strings and slides away your bottoms.

Fuck.

His eyes are glued to that paradise between your legs, the one he’s been dreaming about for months. Vaguely and almost unconsciously, he decides when he dies, he’d prefer this heaven over anything else.  His eyes quickly flicks up to you, and you must see something in his darkened, suddenly insatiable gaze, because your face is quickly flushing and your legs are squeezing shut.

“Do you want this tsawksyul?” he asks in a low voice, retracting from your body slightly so you don’t feel uncomfortable.

“Ye- yes,” you mutter, face turning an adorable pink colour.

“Are you sure,” he presses gently, reaching out to direct your gaze back to his. “We can do something else- we don’t have to-”

“No!” you gasp, eyes widening at those words. “No- I want this.”

“You have to tell me,” Aonung whispers, pressing a kiss to the perfect plush of your inner thighs, “if you don’t like anything. You have to say if you want to stop.”

“Don’t you dare,” you breathe, and he grins.

When he finally dives between your legs, it’s without the intent of ever resurfacing. You let out a surprised little gasp as he muscles his way between your pretty thighs, forcing them further apart from that meager gap you thought would satiate him.

He licks a long, tantalising stripe up your puffy lips, eyes practically rolling back at the sweet, heady taste of you, exploding over his tongue just as he spent so long dreaming about. At your reaction – accidentally bucking your little hips into his face with a choked gasp – he can guess you hadn’t been expecting the rough texture of his tongue.

He looks experimentally up at you, and you glare straight back with an impatient, expectant look on your usually sweet little face.

Fuck yes.

He sucks lightly and you practically shriek, hands tearing for something to grab onto. Unfortunately, your fingers find purchase closing around his hair – curls and kuru and all – and you tug.

Neither of you expected that groan ripped from him, the sound vibrating against you in a way that has your eyes rolling and moaning in glorious response. Aonung, who had already thoughtlessly been rutting his own hips against the ground in search of any salvation from that insatiable ache in his core, does not miss that warning heat start to coil in his abdomen.

But ever set on pleasing you, he does not lapse for a moment and ignores his own unravelling as you continue to desperately tug at his kuru. You’re already squirming and gasping for breath – only making hungry little moans and letting slip little gasps of curses and don’t stops.

He, in fact, has no intention of stopping soon. Not when you’re making all these pretty little noises, not when your own pleasure – the sounds and taste and scent of it – is nearly tipping him over the edge.

He can tell you’re close, and that’s what prompts him to slowly slide a finger into your soaked heat. With a choked moan your hand fists tighter around his hair. Aonung marvels at just how tight you are, clenching around his fingers like a vice as you struggle to adjust to his finger.

He vaguely revels in the thought of how amazing you’d feel, wrapped all tight and warm against his cock, and he moans into you.

When he knows you’re about to tip over the edge, when your eyes are rolling and your moans are becoming less words and more desperate pleading noises, he circles his tongue around your clit and sucks.

You come undone with a cry, clenching around his finger so much he can feel your whole heat aching against his ravenously laving tongue.

It’s only when your thighs (no doubt of their own accord) shut tight around his face in a glorious squeeze of soft, perfect squidge.

He isn’t sure why that’s what does it – though it is paired with your tugs on his kuru and his mindlessly rutting hips – but then he’s also pushed over that brink with a snarl you hardly even notice, too high on your own cresting pleasure.

But he has no time for shame or mortification at his early release, never even touched by you, because really, it’s a marvel it hadn’t happened earlier.

You’ve barely come down from your high when you notice Aonung still buried contentedly between your closed thighs.

“A- Aonung,” you pant, left breathless by your orgasm and the glorious sight of your best friend, all perfect and pretty, having the goddamn time of his life.

His only reply is to lightly tap the side of your thighs and mumble against your aching cunt, “Open these a little wider for me, tsawksyul.”

He vaguely notes your mouth drop open in surprise before he’s diverting his full attention to that heaven between your thighs. Your little huff of impatient is batted with your own gasp, but you – stubborn as ever – continue the struggle of attempting speech, “You-”

“Just one more,” he coaxes, licking another long stripe so his tongue catches on your overstimulated clit. Your defeated little groan is music to his ears, and a wide grip is stretched over his face as he victoriously resubmerges.

Your first orgasm has barely abated before your second is hurtling nearer with haphazard enthusiasm.

You’re whining and squirming from the overstimulation, but your desperate moans are punctuated with little gasps of don’t stop and encouraging tugs on his hair.

Aonung’s moaning into you, enjoying this quite as much as you are. His hands are holding you close by your soft plush of your thighs, tail sweeping and thumping behind him as he inevitably grows rock hard again, spurred by your euphoria.

All that exists is you. You’re so fucking wet, practically soaking into his mouth. All he can see and hear and taste is you, hips rutting against his face, hands clawing at his hair, head thrown back and moans spilling out of your gleaming, parted lips.

His jaw is aching in delicious wearing. The pain is satisfying in a strange way, and he contents himself with the knowledge he’s working.

It isn’t exactly best-friendly; the thoughts he’s having. He sincerely doubts his brain has never been this filthy, flying through all the lewd possibilities while he has you here.

“Aonung!” you slur out, thighs twitching over his shoulders as you near your high. “you need- slow down - ‘s too much.”

“You’re doing so well,” he hums against you, still maintaining his steady (and somewhat overzealous) pace.

Again, when he notices how close you are, he sucks your whole cunt into his mouth, tongue lapping at your little swollen clit as he sucks hungrily at you.

Then once again, your thighs are tensing and your moans are slurring into unintelligible whines. Your grip on his hair is iron as you gasp your way through your second high, eyes wide and lips parted as you heave for shaky, desperate breath.

Once you come down, you push at his head, tugging his hair away from your overstimulated cunt and trying to pull him back up to you.

“God- Aonung!”

Finally he relents, sitting up with a delighted little grin. You are also wearing a stupid little smile, though you look distinctly dazed and ruffled. Aonung feels a little surge of pride.

“Oh my…” you gape, eyes wide in bewilderment as you scan over him. His face is all shiny and gleaming and slicked, and you let out a little giggle as you reach out to try and wipe some of it away. “Oh my god- I’m so sorry.”

Aonung laughs with you, not in the least bothered by the mess of his face. Instead, he takes your hands in his and peppers light kisses up your arms and back towards your neck, where he is pleased to see his various gleaming bites and hickeys ornamented into your soft skin. You giggle again.

“Aonung?” you ask gently, a small smile curling at the edge of your voice.

“Mm?” he grunts, nipping another ruby bite into your collar.

“Care to fuck me now?”

Aonung pulls away an inch, trying to hide his obvious arousal as he studies your rosy grinning face.

“Are you sure?” he questions gently. “I mean you just-”

His voice dies in his throat when you reach up lightly to – tortuously slowly – pull at the strings of your top. He watches the top slide away without breath, and only when you’ve impatiently tossed it aside and grinned at him does he dare to move.

A complete sense of unreality washes over him. After imagining this moment for so long, it seems strange he cannot think of anything to do but worshipfully admire you.

He is pleased to note that, in fact, your breasts are just as soft and plush as the rest of you. They are round and full and slightly squishy in a way completely unlike na’vi, and he’s never been gladder that your aren’t just muscle, that your small body is so perfectly squidgy.

With a nod of consent from you, Aonung reaches lifts you lightly up to place you over his lap. You steady yourself with your hands on his chest, still looking a little rumpled and dazed, but he doesn’t miss that dark, mischevious gleam in your eyes as you stare down at him.

The second you’re balanced, your hand is reaching out to the tent of his tewng. You study him with greed, drinking in the sight of his arousal as though it’s what you need to live. He’s a little mortified now, but he hopes that you think the slick of your hips slightly rocking against his is why his tewng is soaked.

Your hand reaches out to trace along the edge of his tewng, eyes dark with frustrated, hungry impatience.

“Oh baby,” you whisper, your mouth twisted in strange ecstasy as you meet his flushed gaze. “Was this all for me?”

Before he can answer – though he doesn’t think he’d even be able to speak with you settled so perfectly over him – your hips slide back a little so your little palm settles right over his hardened length.

“Take these off.”

“Are you su-” Aonung starts to say, before you rock right up against his pained length and his voice stumbles off.

“Yes,” you whisper impatiently. “It’s not fair that I’m here all naked and you still get clothes.”

“I’m basically already naked and you wear clothes that cover much more than mine every day,” he protests.

“What, do you want me to get you a hoodie too,” you snap, and he knows you’re growing more frustrated and impatient with the effort of grinding against him.

He laughs, and you scowl fiercely at him.

“Just take it off Ao, I wanna make you feel good too.”

Those words practically punch a whole in him, and he feels another surge of unbearable affection for you, which is promptly murdered as you stop your movements in protest.

“You already did, tsawksyul,” he whispers.

“Not properly,” you press. “I want to do it.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Your hips rock hard against his, your bare cunt against his cock covered by that ridiculous tewng, and he feels his self-control slipping away. You must sense it too, because you’re grinning and shifting up to help him pull the last restraint between the two of you away. The tewng is thrown away with careless abandon to lie somewhere far away; there are no clothes needed here.

The small gasp you let out when you finally see him all bare and desperate and hungry makes Aonung’s heart thud painfully in his chest.

“Fuck yes.”

Your words explode from you as though you didn’t mean to say them, and a moment later you’re flushing with hot embarrassment. Aonung laughs lightly and you smile bashfully with an adorable little nose scrunch, before he’s lifting you back onto him again.

It’s bare – skin on glorious skin.

He needs to breathe for a moment, ears flattening against his head and eyes falling shut in dark pleasure. You’re so soft – thighs either side of him, breasts bouncing at the slightest movement – but you’re also so wet and warm and slightly sticky that he thinks you’re killing him.

It becomes painfully evident to him that the moment his cock pushes inside you, he’ll be fighting for his life to not come instantly. Again.

He always knew patience wasn’t your strong suit, but you’re growing more and more frustrated and he finally pulls his babbling brain together enough to flip you over to lie beneath him and align himself to your entrance.

With a small, almost pleading cry from you, with his heart thudding loud enough for you to hear, he presses in.

You’re clenching around him so tight, barely even an inch in. You’re tighter than he ever imagined, and he feels like he’s being coddled in searing perfection, so much so that he can hardly breathe as he slowly starts to push in.

When you let out a hoarse whine – the stretch is evident even to him – Aonung winces. He doesn’t want to hurt you, and the thought of you in pain is too much for him to bear. He settles himself with pulling you against him, soothingly stroking your hair.

He can’t look away from where you’re swallowing him whole. It’s a fucking addiction, a new drug. Even the sight of you slowly struggling to take him would be enough to send him over the edge, and he grits his teeth so he doesn’t come instantly and mortifyingly. Again.

And then finally, Aonung’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance and into your velvety heat.

He’s dying. He has to be. Because there’s no damn way he didn’t just go to paradise.

The breath is punched out of him in a low, desperate growl, his hands clawing into the ground to steady himself, to let you adjust, to not just completely lose his mind and bury himself deep into you.

“Holy shit,” you breathe, your voice no more than a desperate, filthy whimper as you look down. The sight of the bulge in your stomach drives Aonung fucking crazy, and he has to physically grip himself back from just slamming straight into you. “You’re all the way here.”

“Taking me so well syulang,” Aonung praises, eyes hazy with the strain and face flushed in the euphoric pleasure of your body around his. “Doing so good for me.”

He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him at the praise, the way your cheeks blush and you bite back a small, helpless moan. A good thing to know for later, and he makes a mental note to shower you in so much praise you don’t know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, he can hardly breathe through the effort of holding himself back. You’re gripping him so damn tight he thinks you might actually strangle him, the overwhelming pleasure and anticipation practically choking the breath out of him.

Your face is all twisted and screwed up, and Aonung doesn’t need to be a genius to see you’re in pain. He holds you close, whispering endless praise of how well you’re doing while reaching down to rub gentle circles on your overstimulated clit as he continues the painstaking, tortuous ascent into the heaven between your legs.

“Oh god,” you whimper, resting your limp head against Aonung’s chest, heaving for breath as you try your utmost to adjust to him. “Oh god, Aonung.”

The sound of his name rumbled from deep within your chest, coarse and raw and desperate just tips him just over the edge of mastering his control. His muscles tense as your nails dig into his chest, hips flexing somewhat and accidentally knocking into you, and you let out a strangled cry.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says quickly, reaching to cuddle you in close, stroking your hair comfortingly. “You’re doing so well, tsawksyul.”

The words fall on practically deaf ears. You’re so flushed and radiant and ravenous that he doubts you’re even thinking straight, your face adorned with a somewhat manically exultant smile and rolling eyes as he slowly presses even further into you.

You’re clenching around him so impossibly tight, whimpering and moaning as he rocks several more inches into you. He doesn’t know what to make of your quiet sobs, whether they’re of pain or pleasure or just hungry impatience, but he comforts you nonetheless by settling his thumb gently over your clit.

Aonung couldn’t care less about how vocal he is, whispering endless praise, snarling out small curses, rumbling desperate groans against the skin of your bare neck, which is now adorned with gleaming hickeys and several smug little bites.

“Eywa, they didn’t do anything to deserve you tsawksyul,” Aonung groans, still rocking another inch into you. You give a weak, wet chuckle, and he presses a kiss to your shining forehead. “You don’t need any of them ever again, you got that? You won’t ever need anyone else.”

“Ye- yes.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he groans, hardly even aware of what he’s saying anymore. “Whatever you need, I’ll always be there with you.”

“Ao- Aonung?” you gasp, steadying yourself with a grip on his arms. “I wa- I want-”

“I know, I know,” Aonung soothes you, finally bottoming out inside you. There’s no way he would have fit all of himself in there, but he isn’t greedy, particularly when the part you could take is coddled so warm and wet and tight. “I’ve got you.”

It takes everything in him not to let loose immediately.

It’s with gentle words and a hand splayed out across your back to steady you that he pulls out an inch or so before rocking back in.

The effect is instant. You let out a strangled, lewd, filthy noise, eyes widening to round moons and mouth opening in almost dumbification. He makes a deep groan in response, pulling out again, pushing back in again, and the last pretences of friendship are shattered.

His lips find their way to your face, forehead clumsily pressed against your much smaller one, hands holding you gently – a softness at complete odds to the way he’s fucking you.

It feels sinful – the way this is so perfectly right, to have his best friend like this, all pretty and babbling and teary on his thick length.

He moans shamelessly every time his gaze passes over you – all stretched and beautiful – around him, taking everything he gives you.

The sounds you’re making are mingled pleading and sobbing, still shot through with greedy hunger. Each moan and whine and sob strike deep in him, hand in hand with the tears forming in your shining eyes.

Eywa, you’re so much tighter than he ever imagined – ever dreamed of. He’s pretty sure he tells you, but those words are lost in the stream of mingled praise and groaned curses pouring from him as he revels in the pleasure of you and you alone.

The sight of your tits bouncing at each thrust is hypnotic, and then finally his restraint is crumbling, and he dives eagerly forward to take one of them into his mouth.

You arch with a surprise cry as his mouth locks around your breast, tongue flicking over your peaked nipple, fangs trailing over your soft skin now slightly shining with the heat of his mouth. He ignores the contortion for him to do it – all discomfort is disregarded at the sounds of your pretty little whines.

He knew from the start he wasn’t going to last long, but he can see that you clearly aren’t going to either.

Your eyes are rolling, heaving for breath in the rare moments you aren’t cursing or babbling or moaning. Your hands and clutching for support, anything to cling to, something to anchor yourself so he doesn’t almost fuck you straight through the bed.

Aonung vaguely acknowledges (in some dimly functioning part of his brain), that perhaps he might be a little worked up. He’s wanted this for so long, thought about this so many times, imagined and replayed and perfected the vision of this moment, that there’s no slowing down now.

Nothing – not one of his filthiest imaginations, not one of his raunchiest desires – could compare to this. To you.

And then your mouth is opening in a hoarse, desperate cry, your fingers are clawing into the tensed muscles of his shoulders, your cunt is clenching so tight around him it’s bordering on sinful pain.

He reaches to rub circles on your poor, swollen, throbbing clit, and you practically scream.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh god-” you sob, shaking as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“I know, I got you,” Aonung whispers against your sweat-damp skin. He doubts you can even hear him, and he isn’t even sure he’s physically speaking all the words rushing through his brain.

It seems to almost go forever, and there isn’t a single second in which Aonung wants it to stop. You look so pretty writhing beneath him, clenching around him, panting for him, sobbing because of him, and when it finally seems to slow down, his own pleasure crests.

He’s grinning against your throat, so fucking pleased with himself. He’s so proud of the way you took him that he’s actually about to die, and when he moves to pull out, your nails dig into his arm and you shake your head furiously.

That’s that.

It all snaps in a final sort of conflagration, waves of pleasure and delight and ecstasy and overwhelming, unbearable euphoria rocking over him, over both of you, as he loses control and buries himself with a positive roar in your still clenching warmth.

He’s hardly aware of where he is, though he can vaguely hear moans and whines and curses he guesses may be his, though he can see himself filling you up to the point it’s spilling out the sides and onto your soft, shining thighs.

Aonung just allows himself a moment of selfish indulgence, of sinfully glorious exultation. Nothing matters, nothing even exists, beyond you.

When he flops onto you, shaking with heavy breaths, exultance coursing through his veins, he doesn’t bother to pull out.

You’re still so tight and strangely comforting all wrapped around him, pulsing in the glorious, tortuous aftershocks of your final climax. You don’t protest – though he’s careful to angle his body to not completely crush you.

You let him lie in delighted, satiated silence, tail sweeping happily behind him on the woven floor, head pillowed against the soft curve of your breasts, dimly admiring all the marks he left across your smooth skin.

You’re also trying to steady your breath, absently anchoring yourself to the present by fiddling with the woven cord of his necklace. Aonung notices the curved tooth is almost as large as your whole hand, and a stupid surge of affection wells in his heart.

Here you are, the prettiest little thing he’s ever seen, his best friend, seconds after the most lewd, intimate moment of your lives. What did he ever do to deserve even befriending you, let alone be your personal blanket after he may or may not have fucked you damn boneless?

“Are you alright?” he asks softly, when he’s regained enough breath to properly process your limp, heaving form.

You smile weakly and shake your head, saying, “I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

“Good,” Aonung grins, shifting to nuzzle closer against your soft skin. “You won’t need anyone else ever again.”

“Oh, really?” you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the way you can’t stop smiling. A moment later your hands are moving to cup his face, and he smiles back at you.

“Can I kiss you, tsawksyul?”

You don’t respond to his question for a moment, staring at him with lips parted in absolute disbelief before a loud, delighted laugh is rocked out of your little body. He frowns, confused.

“What?”

“You just fucked me near boneless,” you laugh, stroking his face affectionately, “and now you’re asking if you can kiss me?”

“Yes…?” he replies, brows furrowed. Your laughter fades and a small smile is left on your small, rosy face.

“Yes,” you smile, cheeks crinkling and eyes bright with strangely overwhelmed joy. “Yes, you can kiss me.”

And he does.

Different to before, not just full of lust and hunger and deep-rooted desperation fuelled by months of desire and affection. This is gentle, sweet, and a soft embodiment of all the warm fluffiness he harbours for you, his little tsawksyul.

He can feel your lips smiling against his own, your little heartbeat thumping against his chest as he cuddles you closer, arm wrapping protectively over you and tail draping lightly over your legs.

Then you’re giggling against him and he’s laughing with you and all the heaviness of the moment before is fading.

He realises that there had been a small naggling part in the back of his brain, wondering what would happened when you finished, when the heat and desire was gone, worried that perhaps it was just the arousal or something that was attracting you to him.

But this is the same then ever – albeit you’re naked. And in love.

Aonung smiles.

“I love you.”

You whisper the words back against his lips, legs wrapping around him to snuggle closer. He faintly dreads the moment you’ll have to pull away, but contents himself to the fact that he can cuddle you again tomorrow and the day after.

So he settles back, peppering you with kisses and light praise. After a few moments, when your breath has properly returned, you exchange some happy prediction for everyone’s reaction to you and him. He finds he couldn’t care less.

Eywa, he’s so happy to have you here.

His little friend.

──────⊱⁜⊰──────

Tagging my darlings: @hadesbabygurl @wavesarchive @kqlopsia @tadomikiku @ntymavtr @mommyanddadskiller @thehoneymushroomhealer @tsireyax @integers @tiyawnyana @whatevenisagrapefruit @oakbuggy @sunsetviper @blue-slxt @simplyawh0re@yootvi @narwhal-swimmingintheocean @vminlvxr @elegantfankidsoul @blue-slxt @neteyamssyulang @theunfortunateplace @lala-1516 @strongheartneteyam @kiskso @deadpool15 @vampirefilmlover @tysirya @universal-s1ut Please let me know if you'd also like to be added to the taglist :)

[wolven91]

The Artist's Eye

"Why does it look so strange?" Asked the noble, tilting his head one way, then the other.

"I believe it's wider than it should be. I have a summer home that has those buildings in the background there..." A scaled, clawed hand points at the backdrop of the portrait. "The buildings are far thinner in real life. Everything is wider than it should be." Claimed the second noble, another male whose tongue briefly flicked out from between his scaled lips and lapped at the blue liquid in his delicate glass.

The pair of them continued to observe the giant portrait painting of an ursidain general. It was unheard of, and completely novel. A painting! With oils and hand-crafted hues and paints. If one leaned in, and observed the collection from the side, one could even see the uneven strokes and application of the paints against a canvas. The subject didn't matter, the ursidain was practically unheard of, but his commissioned painted was on loan to the ssypno people for a gallery event, featuring a human artist.

His style was unknown, his methods unorthodox to the point of being unheard of outside of ancient texts that describe using chintian fur brushes.

"Wider? I would say this would be the wrong portrait to observe if we are wanting to check if the human's eye adds inches to the subjects girth!" Tittered the noble, gesturing at the rotund ursidain. Unbeknownst to them, the general had been delighted at his portrait and only at the promise he could have another done, did he relinquish possession of his painting.

The two nobles approached another painting, this one of a member of House Sa'vurn. 'The Promised Daughter', one 'Desh Sa'vurn', the people's favourite.

The two nobles joined a third, a female who was coiled directly in front of it.

"Her eyes are rather alive, don't you think?" The noble asked openly, drawing the two male's attention. It was true, Desh's eyes followed them. One of the males felt judged, as if the people's favourite Sa'vurn had found him wanting, whilst the other found them angry, as she were posed to strike him.

"If you observe each of his subjects, they are all observed in one fashion or another, but it is their eyes where he has put in more detail than other artists." The noble observed.

"Why? I would know more of the subject if her body posture made sense. Her shoulders are back, but her tail coiled? Her hood is flared yet not a dot of heat."

"Of course there's no heat, it is an oil painting." The lady sighed, pointing out the obvious. "We are observing what the human sees."

"No heat? Boring." Moaned the judged male.

"Fascinating I say. We are stripped down to our most basic parts. There is no lying when standing in in front of his easel. He ignores or is blind to our attempts to show our heat, to radiate what we want others to perceive." Extrapolated the lady noble, referencing how almost every single ssypno in the gallery was displaying as much heat as they could in their hoods, to show that they were successful and didn't need to conserve their heat. She frowned as she reached out, only to stop herself from touching the canvas.

"I do wonder why do many portions are left so dark?"

"I can answer that my lady." Came a lyrical voice from behind. The trio of ssypno turned at once and met the eye of an esquinine. He didn't flinch, or close one eyes, but met their gazes without fear in turn.

"I have been privy to the human's art from the beginning, he rented my loft when he arrived on our home world." Explained the long-faced empath.  "The portions that are dark to you, are actually a sea of different colours, but more in the hues of purples and dark blues. I'm afraid these are colours outside of your visual range."

The trio of large serpants turned back to the art and squinted, as if trying to force their vision to focus and draw forth a colour they'd never seen.

"It is one thing to know one has limited visual colours, it is another to stand before what we know is there and be unable to see it." The female noble lamented.

"Ugh, annoying. Why would he paint a ssypno with colours a ssypno can't see? Insulting."

"He paints for his own enjoyment; it just so happens that others consider this art worth money. Amazing than an artist is more creative when they aren't starving." Noted the esquinine before bowing curtly and leaving the ssypno behind. The esquinine meandered through and over the tails that trailed behind the various gallery patrons before slipping into a side down and strutting down a quiet hallway.

He came to a door, pressed his thumb to the reader then stepped inside.

The human was sat watching the screens.

"How's it going?" He asked, nervously nibbling on a nail. The esquinine stepped over and gently slapped the top of the human's hand, reminding him to stop with the nervous habit.

"Well. They still don't quite 'get' it, but then they are the upper crust. Dry and tasteless." Observed the empath, who turned to watch the screens as a crowd of ssypno tried to force their own world view onto art made by a wholly different species with a very different life to them.

"It's fun seeing ignorance get exposed over and over though..." Considered the esqunine, resting his head against a finger.

"Just because I see the world differently..." Mumbled the human, mildly frustrated.

"Galaxy, and I would be quick to point out they love to remind you, that you are smell blind. I think its rather justified to remind them that they are blind to a whole world of colours, no matter how rich they are." Pointed out the alien with a cold tone to the nobles.

"Body mods are a thing." Supplied the young man, considering how they could choose to have different eyes with their money.

"And admit they aren't perfect? They'd have an ice bath first." Came the esquinine's reply, without missing a beat, taking the human by surprise.

The human grinned and couldn't help but smile at the curt and cutting remarks of his closest ally, cheering him up immediately.

[etherfabric]

Messages for Reassurance + Songs

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

Knight of Cups, High Priestess

The hope inside of you is not delusion. You are safe to go after the things that seem promising and enriching. The days where you couldn't hear your gut well enough to listen to it are gone. Serendipities of various sizes permeate your day to day life, and it feels almost to good to be true. Did you really make it? Yes, dear. You did. You embraced your shadows enough to bask in the sun again.

Of course this is no utopia, and the frights of the past have sharpened your foresight to real possibilities, but believe yourself when you can't feel any danger closeby. You are stronger, smarter, and in better company than ever before. Now all there is left to do is putting some weight in those timid steps towards your bliss. Don't worry about tripping - you'll land on your foundation and get up again, eyes forward, one foot in front of the other. You will get there as soon as you fully arrive internally, and you are so close to completion already. You will see it once you believe it.

Pile 2

6 of Wands, The Hanged Man

You are exactly where you are supposed to be, in the exact context and circumstances you see at this very moment, inside and out. The conditions are perfect for you thrive in. You might have to get a little unorthodox in your approaches, and the shape of other people's successes sometimes clouds your inspiration, but let good be good enough for now. Think of past you - they prayed to have what you have now.

Okay, yes, they were a little misguided in a few details of their wishes (thankfully rejection is divine protection), and in thinking once you would be here, everything would be perfect - life is still life, you are still human - but the lessons that led you here widened your understanding of how everything had to happen this way. Guess what, future you will look back at this very moment with the exact same wisdom and compassion.

You can work with what you have at your disposal and rightfully expect the glory of tangible progress. Just keep doing what you are doing already, keep it simple and managable, and there will be nothing significant standing in your way. Those bouts of stagnation? That's where the depth of your skills comes from in the first place. Just like muscles, the soul and mind need their periods of liminal passivity to come back with full force to charge you ahead. You are on the right track. You are doing great. You can be proud of yourself.

Pile 3

Page of Swords, 10 of Wands

Oh dear. It's okay to say you are tired. It's okay to break apart. It's okay to hurt and just want to quit it all. Why are you carrying all this by yourself, tasks and thoughts alike? Don't you know the relief once you put them both down? For the thoughts: Speak, write, scream. To somebody, or nobody. The most important part is admitting it. Then at least you are freed of the burden to act like everything is fine. I know you are scared, I know you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place if you knew for sure you could let go. But I trust in the magic of coincidences, and you reading this right now tells me you need to stop swimming against the current and let the flow carry you downstream.

Stop clinging to things that only stay if you wreck yourself. The tide will wash them out of your hands anyway, because soon you will reach your body's limits, and then the decision will be made for you. Let the dam break. Let nature take its course. You are so smart and truly believed the best, I can see that, and it's no lack of character that caused things to go this way. But this wasn't meant for you. I know it hurts. I hurt with you. But once you stop fighting gravity, you will be drawn to what is truly for you. Put the burden down. I know you had the best intentions, but it's over. You can rest now.

Pile 4

9 of Cups, Knight of Pentacles

You already know this, but slow and steady does indeed win the race. Instead of doing a million things exhausting yourself, you are focusing on a handful of daily tasks, knowing they will lead you exactly where you want to be. Time and consistency are on your side. You know you don't have to be perfect and can always pick up where you left off. Appreciation from outside sources resonates with your own satisfaction about how things are playing out for you.

Your longterm goals seem closer than ever. You have your routine down pat, and trust in your ability of finding even better tweaks and spins for it in the future. This calm air of confidence looks so good on you! You have earned it. You can read the signs relative to your success, know which road to take, and which pitfalls to avoid. You feel incredibly rich and know how to pass the time until certain things come to fruition. It used to make you anxious when you were faced with slowpaced processes, and you fell back on less sustainable approaches to selfsoothe. Now you appreciate the journey itself, even welcome the delays, so you have ample time to smell the flowers on the side of the road.

[strawchaee]

warnings: yandere!twice, stalking, obsessive attitude

summary: when you go on a blind date with them, you are not interested but for them you are the love of their life and they start stalking you

N A Y E O N:

It had been two years since you dared to go out with anyone after your previous partner cheated on you. Your friend Yuna invited you to go on a blind date with a girl she knew. You accepted, thinking it would be interesting to meet someone new. But the date turned out to be disastrous, according to you. Nayeon and you had nothing in common, and she couldn't stop talking about herself, which you didn't like. However, for Nayeon, it was the best date of her life, and she thought she had never met anyone like you. That's when it all began. Despite your efforts to avoid Nayeon, she always found you "by chance." You tried to make it clear that you didn't want anything with her, but she couldn't accept that you didn't love her as she loved you. She kept insisting that you go out with her, as well as driving away your acquaintances and potential conquests. She wanted you to be hers alone, even if it meant pushing people away.

"YN, I just want to love you."

J E O N G Y E O N:

The first date you had with Jeongyeon wasn't great in your opinion, but you decided to give her a second chance. The second time didn't improve your opinion of her either. However, she thought it went well and started calling you every day to check on you. After days of constant calls, you decided not to answer them, which could be uncomfortable since she always asked where you were, with whom, and why you didn't pick up the phone. She demanded your attention even when you didn't want to be with her. One night, she showed up unannounced late at night just to hear your excuse for not answering her call. She continued doing this whenever you didn't answer, showing up where you were and confronting you in front of people.

"Why haven't you answered, darling?"

M O M O:

At the beginning of the date, everything was going well with Momo, but the evening took a turn due to certain thoughts and controlling behavior that didn't sit well with you. You didn't understand why you had to follow her little commands. At the end of the disastrous evening, you made it clear that you didn't like her and asked not to speak to each other again. Unfortunately, Momo decided on her own that you were her new partner. Days after the date, Momo showed up at your home without warning, even though you had never told her your address. She boldly tried to force you into a date with her but, seeing that you wouldn't yield, she entered your house and closed the door. She grabbed your shoulders and coldly threatened you, "You should listen to me if you don't want something bad to happen to your little sister."

S A N A:

The date with Sana didn't go well in your opinion, with minimal conversation topics due to a lack of common interests. In Sana's mind, the date was going perfectly, and she thought your silence meant she had left you speechless. After dinner, you rushed off, hoping to never see her again. However, Sana had other plans. She found your personal information within a few days and even more private details. She called you several times, but you never answered. Concerned, Sana took an unorthodox approach and entered your home, waiting for you all day until you arrived. She had prepared a romantic dinner. You were astonished and a bit scared, wondering how she had entered your home.

"YN, what are you doing standing there? Sit down, and let's start our date."

J I H Y O:

You liked Jihyo as a person, but her involvement in a dangerous line of work made you hesitant to continue seeing her. At the end of the night, with some regret, you declined to see her again, bidding her a small farewell. For Jihyo, it meant nothing. She's a tough and determined woman who works in a mafia. She's cunning and won't let you easily walk away from her. She initiated a plan she thought was romantic but could be seen as sinister. You received daily letters from her, talking about personal things you had never shared with anyone. Sometimes, these letters included photos of your home or even you sleeping. Jihyo wanted you to realize what she was capable of if you tried to leave her side.

"Have you liked the letters? They show how much I love you."

M I N A:

Mina was the only one who made it past the first date with you. She seemed like a responsible, intelligent person who had graduated from one of the best universities in the country. You were captivated by her charisma. Initially, everything went well, but over time, Mina displayed possessive and toxic behavior. You decided to end your relationship with her immediately. You thought you had gotten rid of her, but to your dismay, you encountered her "by chance" as your new boss at work. From that day on, the harassment became unbearable. Mina forced you to visit her office frequently and assigned you menial tasks just to see you.

"YN, what a pleasure to find you at my new job."

D A H Y U N:

Dahyun initially went on the date as part of her usual strategy to find new conquests. However, the date didn't go as she expected, and you noticed her big ego and behavior, which led you to reject her from the beginning. Dahyun was upset that her charms didn't work on you. She disappeared from your life for a while because she was busy investigating you. She's quite stubborn, so if she wants you to fall for her, she'll make it happen. If she can't, she'll try to make your life a bit harder. Dahyun started following you to your dates and clubs. Ultimately, you always ended up alone without a conquest, courtesy of Dahyun, who would disrupt your date and even lie about you to scare away your potential partners.

"Until you fall for me, I'll bother you day after day."

C H A E Y O U N G:

Chaeyoung is a successful businesswoman who worked hard to achieve her success, and she decided to indulge herself with a blind date recommendation. That's how she met you. It was love at first sight for her, even though you didn't share the same feelings. Since that day, Chaeyoung has been controlling you, claiming that you're her partner after just one date. Now that you're supposed to be her girlfriend, she expects you to be more careful with your actions. People are always watching you in her presence in case anything unexpected happens. The situation overwhelmed you because despite making it clear that you didn't like her, you were still under surveillance.

You tried to endure the situation until one day when you arrived at your apartment, you found that none of your belongings were there. Chaeyoung had decided on her own that it was a great idea to move your possessions to her house. According to her, if you were going to be her partner, you had to live in her house.

"YN, are you here already? Why so angry? Look at your new home."

T Z U Y U:

Tzuyu seemed like a normal person at first, but if she became obsessed with someone, her level of obsession would drive that person insane. Tzuyu became infatuated with you from the moment she saw you, as you were her

type. In your opinion, the date wasn't good, and Tzuyu didn't interest you as a partner. However, Tzuyu couldn't stop thinking about you, so she started following you everywhere you went. She took photos of you and sent them to you with small messages written on the back. You felt uneasy about receiving those photos from the start.

Things took a turn for the worse when Tzuyu began breaking into your house and taking many photos there. She left them on your bed, arranging them into a heart shape, with a letter in the center expressing her love for you.

"Darling, I love you more every day. I hope it's mutual."

[carionto]

We fail alone, we excel together

Formations are a staple of effective drills, training, and practice in every military across the Galaxy. They are a showcase of unity, leadership, trust, and loyalty. And fancy outfits. Gotta go for a style victory when actual wars are quite uncommon.

Humans are pretty good at this sort of thing. Not the best, as there is always some inconsistency, somebody doing their own thing, or improvising a solution to a fumble. Honestly, theirs are one of the more interesting to watch. It takes a lot of effort for some to conform to a herd style behavior, and it shows.

One time, a soldier tripped and was about to drop their knife, but thinking quickly, they began to juggle it, along with an ammo magazine and a sidearm they quickly pulled out. Aside from surprising everyone with their juggling skills, the surrounding soldiers noticed immediately, and, without a word, began to juggle with the same items as well.

But it wasn't chaotic - first, once the first loop was done, the soldiers in front, behind and to the sides of the first one started juggling in sync, and with each completed loop it spread the same way, creating this beautiful expanding diamond effect.

Not everyone was equally skilled, of course, and some ripples started to appear. However, since they all knew how long until the current parade music ended, the soldier in the center of the formation, not the original one, stopped juggling, and with each loop the inner layers also stopped. When the final corner soldiers put all the items in their place, the song also came to an end and a new one took its place.

Afterwards, we heard the colonel of that battalion issued an official reprimand for not following the rehearsed performance. Unofficially he praised them, as he himself had been approached by a general about this "surprise addition" and admired his "unorthodox thinking" and "proactive decision making". The colonel obviously lied and gleefully (well, as gleeful as a gritty military veteran with lofty ambitions can get) accepted the praise and promised to deliver other surprises in the future when they would prove most effective.

Big nonsense exchange of words that simply meant the soldiers doing all the actual doings would now have to actually prepare some kind of new and impressive feat. If there is one thing you can rely on, is higher ups turning everything you do into more work...

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x OFC (Reader)

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: Roleplay, power differential, cum play, p in v, oral (m&f receiving), dom/sub elements, edging, orgasm denial, masturbation, slight shoe kink

My small contribution to Kinktober.

Masterlist

Measure of Man

You are seated at your dining table, waiting for Jake to arrive home and to find the sticky note you left on the front door,

"Lt. Seresin,

Report to my office immediately.

-Dr. Matthews"

This idea has been floating in your head for awhile, an opportunity to have a little different kind of fun with Jake. Frankly after the shitty day you had at work, the appeal of getting outside of your own head and piss poor mood sounded good and hopefully you'd get a good orgasm or two out of it.

Jake steps into the house holding the sticky note in his hand, a quizzical look on his face as he holds it up. You talk before he can.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant Seresin," you direct Jake to sit in the kitchen chair pulled out from the table. You've staged your dining room table to be a "desk" including an old name plate that reads, "Dr. Elsa Matthews, PhD."

Jake gives you a slightly raised eyebrow as he sits down.

Picking up a file folder you ask Jake,

"Do you know why you're here?"

"No, El,--" he responds tentatively before you cut him off.

"I thought you Navy guys were good with titles, please address me as Dr. or Ma'am. I've been called here to evaluate your ability to go on a very important mission."

"Okay, Ma'am," he responds, his Texan accent coming out, he nods to complete the act of deference.

"We have two options, one, I ask you questions and you give me answers you think I want to hear," you say walking around the kitchen table to sit on the edge, crossing your legs. Jake's gaze at your legs tucked into a tight pencil skirt and the high black heels you're wearing does not go unnoticed.

"Or two, we employ a more hands-on method," you finish.

Jake smirks that cocky grin of his and sits up a little straighter, his brain having caught on to your game.

"I'd be interested in hearing more about this hands-on approach, Ma'am."

"It's a little unorthodox, but trust me when I say you'll be satisfied with the results. So, what will it be, Lieutenant?"

You uncross your legs and recross them as he ponders your words, your movement distracting him slightly,

"Uhh, the second one," he answers as he clears his throat.

"Excellent, let's get started," you say hopping off the table, "Take your clothes off, we'll start with the physical examination first."

Jake looks at you not sure exactly where this is going,

"I thought this was a psych evaluation, Ma'am."

"Is a comprehensive exam to evaluate a few characteristics like your overall fitness for the mission, physical stamina, impulse control, your ability to follow orders, and most of all my satisfaction that you're up to the mission requirements. If you don't want to do this, Lieutenant Seresin, I can just move on to my next appointment,"

you glance down at the file folder on the desk,

"A Lieutenant Bradshaw? Maybe he'll be more cooperative and eager to please me?"

Jake scowls and stands up and starts to strip, starting with his uniform shirt.

"Oh, I think you'll find me very eager to please and definitely will satisfy all your requirements, Dr. Matthews,"

he says, stripping off his uniform shirt and undershirt draping them across the back of the chair. He kneels down to untie his boots, pulling them off along with his socks that he neatly tucks under the chair. Jake stands up in a parade rest waiting for your next command.

"Everything, Lieutenant. You'll find I'm very thorough in my exam," you say, as sternly as you can as you reach forward and cup Jake through his khakis. His hips buck forward reflexively and his cock starts to harden under your hand.

Jake hides a small grin as he slowly moves his hands to his belt buckle unlatching the gold metal. After undoing the button and zipper he pushes down his pants and underwear in one smooth motion before standing back up. His cock proud and erect in front of him.

You pick up a fabric tape measure and a clipboard from your "desk" and step over to Jake.

The tape measure slides easily over one of Jake's biceps; you pretend to write down a measurement on your clipboard. You let the tape measure trail around Jake's body as your hands smooth over his hard muscle and golden skin and you "accidentally" bump your body into his, like when you step away after measuring his waist you let your fabric covered ass graze his erection. All the while you're marking down "measurements" on the notepad and occasionally humming small words of praise. Jake is standing perfectly still and the only way he lets on how he is affected by your touch is the occasional sharp inhale when you graze his cock. Your last move is to wrap your hand around his cock and hold it out to be measured. You hold the tape measure end to the base of his cock, the cold of the metal tip causing him to startle. Your other hand lifts his member up and you pull the tape measure along length, earning a light grunt from Jake. You let the tape measure fall away and keep fisting his cock. Jake looks down at you trying to read your face.

You maintain a disinterested, professional look as you continue to jerk him off, enjoying the muted moans and grunts as he keeps up the facade. Just as he starts to thrust his hips in time to your motions you pull your hand away, pulling an anguished whine from Jake.

Satisfied with your teasing you step back and lean against the table.

"Impressive Lieutenant," you say,

"Peak physical condition."

Jake is lightly glaring at you while his dick drips precum, his green eyes locked onto yours as he awaits your next direction. The power and tension in the air along with Jake's naked body on display has wetness pooling between your legs. You sit back down on the desk and open your legs as much as you can in the tight pencil skirt. Jake's eyes automatically drop to your apex as the skirt starts to slide up. You can tell the moment he locks onto the lacey thong you're wearing; you have no doubt that there is a darker patch visible on the delicate fabric betraying your arousal. Jake smirks a little at that revelation.

"Next is the oral exam," you say, trying to maintain a professional tone. Jake nods and raises an eyebrow.

"Kneel lieutenant," you order and Jake slowly lowers himself to the floor, still a few feet away from the table.

"Your next task is to make me come with, what I've been told, is quite the mouth on you," Jake breaks into a smile and starts to shuffle forward on his knees to get closer to you,

"As timing is everything you've got five minutes to make me come, starting now."

You hit a timer on your phone laying on the table to emphasize your point.

You had expected Jake to dive in, frenzied to get you off, but he starts at a slower pace kissing up your legs and between your thighs. His confidence in his ability to make you cum translating to a leisurely pace. When he reaches your lace covered mound he breathes your scent in deeply. He drops a sweet kiss over the dark spot and slides his hands up to pull your thong off dropping it to the floor. Jake picks up your feet where they are dangling and places them on the table so you are butterflied completely open for him. The anticipation and just how close he is to your pussy makes you squirm with need. He is kissing all around you, except where you need him most. Finally, he runs his tongue down through your folds into your slit and back up around your clit. A loud sigh mixed with a moan escapes you as you try to hold yourself up so you watch Jake's every move. Jake lets out a muffled moan as he licks your clit. Two of his thick fingers circle around your slit, he gently slides one in quickly followed by the other. The stretch just the right side of intense and you feel yourself gush more arousal around his fingers. He moves his fingers in time with his assault on your clit. That burning need inside you starts to build deep in your belly. Jake curls his fingers in a come hither motion as he speeds up his efforts on your clit. The change in sensation ratchets you up another notch closer to your peak. Jake recognizes the flutter of your soft walls and your breathy moans and speeds up even more, determined to push you over the edge. All it takes is one furious suck on your clit and you are soaring a loud scream bursting forth from you.

You lay down against the table catching your breath as Jake continues to leave gentle kisses around your mound and your thighs.

Leaning up on your elbows, you take in the sight of Jake as he wipes his chin on his arm. Grabbing the clipboard you turn the timer off and inform him,

"You have successfully passed the oral portion of the evaluation, with some time to spare."

Jake smugly grins from between your legs awaiting your next request.

"Take a seat, Lieutenant," you order and Jake complies quickly.

"One characteristic we look for in a mission leader is the ability to control your base impulses, to put others first," you state, walking around his chair, your fingers trailing across his broad shoulders.

"I can assure you that I'm very in control and everyone comes before me," Jake says, earnestly.

You have to bite your cheek not to laugh at the double entendre Jake is laying down.

"This next exercise is designed to test that theory exactly."

Jake watches you with his intense green eyes as you stand in front of him and start to unbutton your very professional white blouse revealing the matching bra to your thong on the floor.

You turn your back to Jake and unzip your skirt letting it fall. Your bra follows soon after till you are completely naked save for your heels in front of Jake. He greedily eyes you up from head to toe, a subconscious lick of his lips betraying his lust along with his obvious erection.

Walking confidently to where Jake sits you straddle one of his legs and pull his chin up so your eyes meet.

"I'm going to ride your cock, but you are not allowed to come. If you feel close say, "parachute." I might ease up or just keep fucking you, see how far I can push you. Say "Red" if it's too much and we stop, understood, Lieutenant?"

Jake swallows hard and responds,

"Yes Ma'am."

You bend down and quickly take Jake's hard cock in your mouth as far as it can go, the action punches out a surprised moan from Jake. You pull off and keep a hold of his cock as you guide it inside of you, a long moan of satisfaction boiling up from Jake's throat. You enjoy the feeling of connection and see that Jake is doing everything in his power not to start thrusting up into you. He waits patiently for you to move. Feeling a bit generous you grab the short hair at the back of his neck and pull, forcing his lips up for you to greedily kiss. You start a slow roll of your hips up and down his cock. Jake's hands hang at his sides.

"Hands behind your head," you order and Jake complies.

You lick your fingers and reach down to rub your sensitive clit as you move up and down.

"Quite the impressive performance so far, Lieutenant Seresin. I look forward to the rest of your evaluation," you say, your pace of your hips steadily increasing along with your rhythm on your clit. You watch every twitch and look of pleasure on Jake's face as you ride him. Jake grips at his own hair and tenses his arm muscles as he tries to stave off his impending release. You put as much muscle as you can into your movements up and down which pushes you closer to the edge.

"Mmm, I know I'm close to another. How are you doing? You're not going to disappoint me and come, are you?" you tease.

"No, Ma'am. Want to be good for you," Jake grits out, eyes rolling back as you climax on his cock, squeezing hard as you peak. You're relentless as you keep riding him, bracing your feet on the chair by his thighs to give you even more leverage. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, your moans of pleasure, and Jake's grunts through gritted teeth. You manage to squeeze out another orgasm before Jake grunts out,

"Parachute."

You still your hips, but stay perched on his cock. You dismount and turn around so you can guide him in from behind.

"Good control, Lieutenant. Let's resume," you say as you start to ride him again. You repeat this game several more times, driving Jake to the edge and then stopping short. Abruptly you stand up disconnecting from Jake.

Jake looks lost as you look down at him, his dick hard, red, and pulsing.

"Please, El, need you, need to come," he pleads, breaking his character.

"Lieutenant Seresin, I will not tolerate your insubordination and lack of respect. Stand up," you order, your voice a bit hard.

Jake nearly stumbles as he follows your order, he stands before you in a parade rest, chest slightly heaving. You lean up and kiss just below his ear as you lazily stroke down his chest, just ghosting over his cock.

"I was going to let you come, Lieutenant, but now I'm not so sure. Your impulse control and ability to follow orders leaves something to be desired. You're going to have to do a good job of convincing me why you should come." You sit back down on the desk.

"Yes Ma'am. I understand and I apologize for disrespecting you," Jake replies, the building desperation apparent in his voice.

"Come closer," you bark and Jake steps closer.

You trail the toe of your shoe up Jake's inner thigh and just barely lift his balls with the shiny patent leather; the ecstasy on his face betrays how much even this little touch is pushing him closer to the edge.

"Why should I let you come, Seresin?"

you ask, mockingly, as you run your shoe on the underside of his dick. Jake lets out a ragged sob of a moan, grateful for some touch. He slowly starts to thrust at your foot, obviously desperate for something.

"Please Ma'am, please let me come. I'll eat you out for the rest of the day, the rest of the week. I'll live under your desk and give you head during all your appointments," Jake pleads, eyes screwing shut as he continues to thrust at your shoe and the air.

"Negotiating, good tactic. Glad to see you can think on your feet. Touch yourself, Lieutenant."

You drop your foot away as Jake starts to fist his cock. He opens his eyes, the desperation to come heavy in his eyes.

"May I come, Ma'am?" he rasps out.

You pretend to ponder it for a moment watching the panic start to build on Jake's face which quickly turns to pure need as you slide off the table and to your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your hand and continue to stroke him.

"I think you've passed my evaluation today. I'm satisfied with the results, are you Lieutenant Seresin?" you coo.

You finish your sentence by taking in his length into your mouth, relishing in the sounds you are pulling out of Jake at this needy moment. You start to bob your head along his cock, determined to push him over the edge.

"Yes, fuck…ahh, yes, I'm satisfied with the result, Dr….ahhh, shit, Dr. Matthews. Please, may I come?" he asks, voice strained.

You pop him out your mouth and continue to jerk him off,

"Yes, you can come."

Jake lets out a loud low moan as he climaxes, spurts of hot cum landing on your face and tongue. His jaw agape and muscles tensed as he watches his release puddle on your face.

"Holy fuck, fuck, El," he stutters a long with the last thrusts of his hips to eek out the last drops of pleasure.

Jake reaches out to gently cup your face as he catches his breath, his thumb catching some of his come and pushing it onto your tongue. You suck lightly on his thumb earning a small moan from him. He turns around and hands you his discarded T-shirt to clean up.

Mostly cleaned up, you wrap your arms around Jake's neck and pull him down for a sweet kiss. Jake wraps his arms around you, returning the gesture.

"Was that okay?" you ask, suddenly feeling a little off. Roleplay was something you had discussed before but today was probably a bit of a surprise for him.

"That was very okay, and you did a good job of checking in. Trust me to know my limits, El. Also it was hot as fuck and I may have cummed my brains out. Shower?" he says, soothingly to you.

Your doubt quelled, you lead Jake to the shower and sit him on the bench, washing his hair first. He leans into your touch, letting you take care of him.

"Anything in particular bring that on, El?" Jake asks, after a few minutes, as you scrub his back.

"Very shitty day at work, some asshat vendor kept talking over me and mansplaining something I had to remind him that I have a god damn patent on and my boss didn't seem to care. Just felt so frustrated and…small," you say.

Jake turns around,

"So you wanted to be the powerful goddess that you are by ordering around your very manly, virile, burly, extremely handsome, peak of maleness, strong aviator boyfriend?" he asks, getting to the heart of the matter.

You smile at his self praise and duck your head into his chest,

"Well, yes, when you put it that way I feel a little embarrassed."

Jake cups your chin and pulls your face out to meet his gaze, he sweetly kisses you on the forehead,

"Don't be, El. It was hot as fuck and I'm glad I'm here for you in a way that was very mutually pleasurable. It really turns me on when you take what you want, what you need."

"Thank you, Jake."

"Anytime, El. Anytime. Plus it gave me a couple of ideas for the future."

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mayhemmanaged

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

[delicious-in-imagines]

combat training with laios and/or kabru? 🖤

(Back to answering stuff in order-) Of course!

Laios Touden

He's going to be a little hesitant, just because he doesn't want to potentially hurt you while training. It takes a run in with monsters to push him to go ahead and train you. You might think that he may take an unorthodox approach - but that comes later on! Initially, he's going to start you on the very same drills that he did when he initially joined the army.

You may notice that he sometimes drifts off when he watches you, before snapping out of it, giving you a slightly dampened smile. He wants to make sure that not only are you capable of defending yourself against monsters - but ones of the people variety too. Once you get past this phase, he quickly returns to the usual exuberant self!

He's going to teach you... everything. From the best way to combat a cockatrice, to the inverse scale on a dragon - while he hopes you'll never encounter the latter, he wants to share this knowledge, not only to just gush about the monsters, but to make sure that you know how to protect yourself when you go into the dungeon.

With each technique and style you master, he's going to sweet up you into one of his signature bear hugs, doting over you with his loud, excited tone. Especially when you manage to take down a creature using something that he taught you how to do!

Kabru of Utaya

While he isn't going to be nearly as harsh of a teacher as Milsiril, he is still going to drill you the entire time that he teaches you. (Not that drilling - you have to ask for a different set of headcanons for that.)

His observational skills are going to be invaluable to catch you when your movements or stance is incorrect, gently teaching you with his hands on your body to move your form to the proper way. If you get flustered during this, he'll give you that little wink before stepping away, teasing you if you continue to be flustered through the training.

While his monster knowledge can't hold a candle to Laios' obsession, he's still got plenty of experience under his belt, and he'll share what he can with you. It'll be up to the pair of you to discover what does and doesn't work for you, adapting it until it comes to you like second nature.

Those close, sweaty moments where the two of you finish sparring, or training, Kabru loves to poke and prod, teasing at you. It definitely helps to set the mood, though usually it's followed by sharing a nice warm bath, and a meal - maybe more!

[momojedi]

Headcanon: Being Shaak Ti’s padawan would include …

Type: Headcanons; GN! Reader Character(s): Shaak Ti, 501st, 212th, Wolfpack, Bad Batch, Omega, Clones in general Notes: I like the concept of a story as Shaak Ti’s padawan, I was thinking about writing a reader-insert about it. Would you be interested?

Despite her reputation as an admirable Jedi Master, Shaak Ti’s views on attachments would probably be anything but respected by the Council.

Shaak Ti gets motherly feelings just by looking at the Cadets or Omega, so you better be ready because once this woman sets her eyes on her new padawan, your fate will pretty much sealed as her newly adopted child.

Whatever you accomplish, whether it may be small such as motivating yourself to get out of bed or teaching a cadet a trick up to striking down a clanker or saving a clone's life, she’ll be the proudest Togruta in the entire universe.

The clones? They adore you. Shaak Ti is the most respected Jedi among Kamino, maybe even the most adored person among the clones there overall. The troopers admire her treatment and kindness, seeing a parental figure in her, a mother they never had the chance to know. Whomever she likes must be just as lovable then!

As Shaak Ti's padawan, all of Tipoca City knows your name by now. Wherever you go, you'll be greeted by the troopers with a bright smile and once they stop at Kamino after a mission, you'll be one of the few things they'll look forward to.

By now, you can pretty much distinguish all legions for their own unique charisma and cooperation among each other.

The 501st is cheerful and humorous; despite their clumsy and chaotic temper, they work together flawlessly. You'll be swarmed with stories, jokes and even some flirtatious attempts on Jesse's & Fives' account, physical love language such as hugs and handshakes, pretty much treated like one of their own. The Domino Squad especially appreciate you, being one of the very first squads you'd had the chance to accompany. Captain Rex will not even dare to leave your side; he says it’s because he doesn’t want his brothers to overwhelm you but really, he just adores you just as much and feels a kind of safety being close to you.

The 212th on the other is a lot calmer and neat, greeting you politely like they would any commander, but with a warm, grateful undertone. Some, like Waxer and Boil, will even bring you something from their missions, little objects and snacks they found. You’ll have Cody sitting with you during lunch and exchange with him about what you’ve experienced while he was away while he tells you all about the silly moments he witnessed with General Kenobi.

The Wolfpack are like a pack of puppies seeing the master again. The second they see you, they will forget everything around them, all attention now on you, whimpering and whining until they’re dismissed by Wolffe and allowed greet you. Speaking of our favourite commander, he will stand quietly and wordlessly beside you like a guard dog, waiting until the coast is clear to let his guard down and warmly greet you himself.

When it comes to the more unique clone forces, such as the Bad Batch, they’ll likely be able to spend more time with you once they’re on Kamino simply because they’re so small in number. The moment the Marauder lands and the four troopers are off the shuttle, you’ll be squeezed in a tight hug by Wrecker as soon as he gets the chance to. Due to their unique nature and different way of life, the connection you’ll have formed to them will be much more personal and likely seen as mostly unorthodox but that doesn’t matter to them, nor to you or Shaak Ti. Surprisingly enough, sometimes you can even see the ghost of a smile flickering on Crosshair’s face when you approach him after their return from another tough mission. And that means something!

The time between helping out Shaak Ti with the clones’ training and supervising the cadets is usually spent with none other than Omega, Nala Se’s apprentice, who, just like you, tends to feel a bit out of place among all the troopers so it’s nice to exchange with someone who feels similarly every now and then. She sees you as a big sibling, someone she can trust her emotions with and you sincerely return those very feelings.

Seeing you interact so well and kindly with all the clones leaves your master’s heart swelling with joy. She really couldn’t ask for a better student.

[nomstellations]

Recursive Maintenance (Boot.hill x Reader)

hi this is a fic idea i've had for a while that i'm obsessed with. contains the following: gt vore, male pred, soft vore, safe vore, object vore, reader insert w gender neutral terms

Ever since you went independent and started your own shop as a mechanic, you've seen all kinds of colorful characters with ships and vehicles that told a story. You've even serviced some Intellitrons and cyborgs...but one client in particular stuck out to you with how frequently he visited. For the same issue, every time... Here he sat right in front of you, wearing an innocent-looking smile as if this hasn't happened countless times before.

"So, doc..." He always called you that, much to your chagrin. "I've been feelin’ real out of sorts lately. I can hear somethin’ rattling around in here…” He gestures to his metallic stomach, lightly rapping his knuckles against it. “But it won't come up no matter what I do! Think you can be a peach and help a Ranger out?”

You knew full well what he meant by “something”. He couldn't help but chuckle at your expression; he had the strangest habit of…swallowing bullets. Whole. You scowled and crossed your arms at him- when was he going to stop doing this and getting bullets stuck in his gut! You asked him, and he got deathly serious for a moment.

“No forkin’ way! I never let myself go without some extra ammo! And even if those IPC clock-punchers shake me down for everything I’ve got…there’s just one place they’ll never think t’look!” He grinned, showing you his sharp sharklike teeth. “But they won’t do me any good in a fight if they’re stuck in there, right doc? Can you give me a hand?”

You sigh. You’ve been through this enough times to know exactly what was wrong, and exactly how you were supposed to do it. No need for scans- you knew the bullets were in his stomach, and you knew his stomach wasn’t able to be opened. (Not that you really wanted to do that, you were a mechanic not a surgeon!)

This meant an unorthodox and strange approach on your part: going inside of him and dislodging the bullets yourself. You weren’t worried about being hurt, as a cyborg he seemed to be able to control his rate of digestion so the bullets would be undamaged…though his fangs always gave you pause. He always seemed to be very careful with you when you shrunk yourself for it, at least.

Speaking of that, it was about time for you to get to work…which meant getting the shrink gun out. You used this when you wanted a more close view of some delicate machine’s insides…but now you were using it for a rough and tumble man’s insides. All the while the ranger had a pleased smile on his face, which only grew wider as your body shrunk down. He reached over and plucked you off the table, looking you over with amusement.

“I've gotta say…I'll never get over how neat that little gun of yours is. You oughta let me take it for a spin sometime, doc…”

As he spoke, he was already lifting you over his face. His sharp teeth were on full display, glinting in the light as he grinned up at you. “Be sure t’ be gentle with me~ I know I will with you.”

Opening his mouth, he lowered you inside without another word. His tongue gently tasted you to cover you in saliva for your impending trip downwards, but you swore you heard a hum that wasn't a part of his inner workings. With a swallow and a gentle tug at your body, you were pulled down his throat. Here you were surrounded by more familiar sounds- the whirrs and humming of machinery, and the clicking sounds of some of his internal parts around you. You found the experience comforting; but you’d never admit it to someone like him. You can already imagine the smug look on his face…

Splashing down in the ranger’s stomach, you were deposited in a very shallow pool of fluid. The surrounding chamber grumbled and rippled around you as if it was greeting you, and you briefly wondered why it still acted like an organic stomach. Maybe it was just to bother you specifically as the walls came in closer in an effort to gently press against you…but you simply shoved back against them, turning on your flashlight to search for the swallowed bullets.

They stood out easily against his black synthetic flesh, covered in fluid and shining in the light. They were undamaged, but…they weren’t stuck anywhere at all! Did he seriously just lie to you so he could eat you?! Your world suddenly shifted, and the bullets clicked against each other as you nearly lost your balance. Outside, the outlaw had leaned back and kicked his boots up on the table he was sitting in front of. Crossing his arms behind his head, he licked the remnants of your taste from his lips and got comfortable for a short rest.

That confirmed your suspicions, at least. He was getting an earful from you whenever you got out of here- you weren’t just some snack he could show up and munch on whenever he wanted! You were at his whims until he released you, though…and the white noise and gentle whirring of his inner workings did well to soothe your brief flare of anger.

[tarjapearce]

Miguel and reader are both Spider-people who have a tense relationship at best. While scouring the multiverse for Spider Society recruits, they learn that an alternate reality version of themselves are happily marriage and their child is the Spider-person of that universe.

Bit of angst undercut

Spiderman was a symbol, an icon for so many things. The heroism came hand in hand with the many responsibilities pack.

You met Miguel while fighting an anomaly, he had stopped the villian last minute before he delivered the finishing blow on you. A sense of deja vu invaded you once you started working alongside with him.

The concept of Multiverse was still something foreign and unknown to you, but knowing you had to keep it from collapsing, was all you needed.

----

If you had to describe your relationship with Miguel, would be tense. You had your temper, and he had his. Not the best combo.

Sometimes not for everyone really. And some days would pass before you started working like nothing had happened. Sure, he was your boss, a boss that sometimes applied the most unorthodox methodology to retaliate anything that came his way.

You on the other hand would try and make a solo approach on things, and gave your input not to pester him, but to offer a different approach whenever he got stuck in a situation.

Today seemed the exception though. You were as quiet as he was, staring at the screen with wide and unbelieving eyes upon what it displayed.

In this dimension you both were married, happily married with a teenage kid. This dimension reality you had a very harrowing job. You were soon to be ascended as a captain in the police force.

"Will you let them in?"

Your voice soft as you typed in your report.

His shoulders slumped softly, but it faded as quickly as it came.

"Maybe."

Was all he could offer.

In your own universe you really never had someone to look after, no partner no kids, just you and your aunt May. But, she was also gone. Detachment came so easy into your life that it felt like a second nature to you at this point.

But seeing this kid, being Spiderman, your hypothetical kid made your heart to slowly beat back to life. Even if your fate was to die in action in that universe, you'd gladly welcome the kid.

They were talented, they definitely had skills, Miguel’s height, solving skills, and of course your cunning. It was a bit odd to see you acting so mother-like and loving.

It was your own version of Miguel's wistful thinking, staring at the screen.

"I think I get it now..." You nodded his way, he just looked from the corner of his eye.

"It's crushing. It doesn't help that we can replay these moments over and over" You looked at the screen again. That version of you would soon die, according to the data Lyla provided.

"It's alot to take in. How do you do it?"

"I don't know."

"Hm..."

You didn't need to be reminded that getting too attached meant trouble. The only thing you could possibly do for the upcoming new member was to guide them without pestering. Be a silent mother you never thought you could be.

You just sat there, studying yourself. A borderline maudlin expression on your usually stoic face. Miguel just watched you, you could have a chance unlike him. The worst wouldn't happen again, and you wouldn't end up like him.

You deserved it though. Deserved to at least experience a bit of happiness. Something that seemed escape from every spider person that came into HQ.

And he would be there when everything would crumble.

[rivangel]

→ Rubies (cumfort) Levi has a nightmare; that’s nothing new, except maybe you can help comfort him using more than just words of reassurance or an embrace this time around.

→ Scar Tissue It’s worth almost nothing informing Levi he’s beautiful, but even he’s learned to appreciate his older age, you think. It is to be appreciated you both made it to now in the first place. It’s his scars that bother him, a side effect of giving his mind, body, and soul to the war for all those years.

→ Levi Month - BDSM

→ “Want help with that?”

→ Kinktober '22: Sacred with the Desecrated After months of enticing her, you finally have her. She can’t resist your call any longer. You teach her the meaning of pleasure.

→ “I want to taste you.”

→ Kinktober '22 - Take It Since you’ve had your babies, the most you do in the nighttime isn’t enough for the both of you. You haven’t had sex in months. Tensions grow tight, and they’re about to snap.

→ Levi Month - daddy kink + public sex

→ Kinktober '22 - Blasphemy Withdrawn, shy, hesitant. Levi fears many things when it comes to intimacy, so he only feels about half as ready as he says when he climbs on top of you. You see through the disguise.

→ “Why so shy?”

→ Kinktober '22 - Unfufillment You take an unconventional approach to helping Levi with his film studies class, with a few surprises along the way.

→ Toy You have an interesting gift in mind for Levi’s birthday—a game of sorts. And that gift? You.

→ No Wonder, No Contest Kitty!Levi falls in love with you, in a way.

→ Levi Month - pre-canon: first time

→ To Have and to Hold (+comfort) After you help him through a moment of weakness, Levi is afraid of the ramifications.

→ I'll Have No Regrets (fluffy) The most important battle in the history of humanity is rapidly approaching. In order to go on without regrets, Levi makes a proposal. The ensuing night is one of love and worship.

→ Kinktober '21 - body worship + praise + foot fetish

→ Love me Softly (cumfort) In which Levi is in recovery after his injuries, and he needs you. You make sure it’s everything he deserves.

→ "Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel really good.”

→ Levi eating pussy purely because he has had a rough fucking day

→ you, like your blood, is something to be savored.

→ “If we weren’t in public right now, I’d have my head between your legs.”

→ Piquant ||| Crimson ||| Acrid Levi eases your period pain through... unorthodox methods.

→ Captain Levi sucking male!Reader off for the first time

→ Now Who's Cute? You call Levi cute too many times, so he proves he's more than just that.

→ sloppy throat-fucking

→ crushing on you hard as hell

→ collaring kitty!Levi

→ Spending a slow, lazy winter morning with ftm!Levi → slow sunday morning fucking, yk? → “You’re affectionate this morning.”

→ on Kitty!Levi's heats

→ Transmasc Levi

→ What Levi’s like when he’s drunk

→ mommy kink

→ just from nipple play?

→ Levi definitely bites

→ isekai'd Levi

➤ All other headcanons ✲ミ☁

main Levi masterlist

updated 09/15/24