#I have a pretty big queue those days

[nolanfa]

[image description: Natasha Romanoff braiding Bucky Barnes’ hair. She’s sitting on a couch with an ace flag shirt, and Bucky is sitting on the ground, leaning against her legs and looking up at her, smiling.] fill for @buckybarnesbingo‘s prompt: “asexuality“. fill for @lgbtqbingo‘s prompt: “flags“ (because Nat’s shirt is flag-coloured/-patterned) fill for @anyfandomgoesbingo‘s prompt “Natasha Romanoff“ (Title: Ace Nat, Pairing: Natasha & Bucky Rating: SFW Medium: digital art + 444 words)

(on AO3 here)

- Nat is ace - she and Bucky find braiding each other’s hair calming, due to Red Room shared experiences.

More words under the cut

- the best way to gather information and get close to high-profile targets is not as a high-society lady but as a high-society lady's helper. The girls in the Black Widow program were taught to kill, to dance, and to help. So they learned to clean efficiently, to choose clothes for any occasion, and they did each other's hair. As this was an activity where the result counted more than the process, it was not as tightly supervised as others. It was also one of the rare violence-free collaborative activities. So for the girls, and for Bucky who trained them and spent some time with them in-between missions and training (because freezing and unfreezing him took time so they didn't do it for too short a downtime), it meant safety and comfort, and still does now. So, sometimes, when she's feeling quiet and safe and content, and she wants to spread the quiet and the safe and the content around, Nat braids Bucky's hair, and sometimes he braids hers. - Bucky also braided his sisters' hair. Before the war, and hydra, and everything, back when the world was not just jagged edges.

- When Nat told Clint she was ace, he was overjoyed, because *purple* (also because he’s, like, supportive and shit and loves her, but he said it was because of the purple). When she needs small purple things, because she wants to wear her colours, and she already has black, gray and white in her things, he always has something to lend her (never on a mission. Ace colors are for downtime. Personal trivia is only ever shown when safe, or as a last resort in very controlled situations to get a very specific result). She could get her own, sure, but he likes accumulating purple wristbands and hairties and caps for her, and she likes using his things (it still feels so new and so precious, gifts given or services rendered, with no strings attached, freely given and freely accepted). The Ace shirt is a gift Clint gave her. She was actually surprised to learn other sex-indifferent people existed, outside of the Red Room. She had thought it was kinda like knowing how to lie: something she'd learnt. She's still unsure, sometimes, what is everybody's, what is hers, and what is the Red Room's. She knows all the children's lullabies and fairy tales, learnt to dance a hundred different dances, but never quite knows if what she feels is normal, or too much, or not enough, or just a few feet to the left.

[missberrycake]

I’ve been thinking this morning about if Steve didn’t get back together with Nancy at the end of S1—I think there’s a lot of different ways that could go, but what if Steve ended up as one of Eddie’s lost little sheep?

Because even if Steve was popular enough to keep afloat in the choppy waters of high school, after his bust up with Tommy and Carole—and even when he’s seen talking with Nancy and Jonathan Byers of all people—he still doesn’t really have any true friends left. Sure, he has people he can chat to in class, but at lunch? After school? Nobody is really thinking about who ex-jock, ex-bully Steve Harrington is hanging around with. 

Perhaps he spends the rest of his junior year dreading lunch hour, because he knows he’s going to have to deploy some serious charm tactics—taking as long as he can in the queue, chatting to the students either side of him—and perhaps if he lingers long enough at one of the tables of his more social classmates, pretends he’s just catching up, carrying on a conversation from class, he can make it seem like it’s all still as easy as it was before. 

Sometimes, though, he doesn’t have the energy to pretend. On those days he’ll retreat quietly to his car and eat his lunch behind his wheel, wondering how different it might have been if he’d never gone back into the Byers’ house that day last fall.

It’s on one of those days that Eddie sees him. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t noticed him before, he’s always on the lookout, after all, and Steve Harrington is one of those people who always drew his eye. He’d seen him scouring the cafeteria while queueing up for his state-mandated mac ‘n’ cheese, searching for a space where he could fit. 

And, of course, he’d heard the whispers about Steve—that he’d punched Tommy H in the face, gotten his crown beaten from his head by Jonathan Byers (though he didn’t seem to hold a grudge). If there’s one thing to know about Eddie, it’s that he’s a bleeding heart, and so when he sees Steve sitting alone in his car, winter frost glittering against the metal, he lets out a heavy sigh and trundles over. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he says, pushing down a smirk when Steve jumps (he is easily startled these days, isn’t he?).

“Munson,” Steve replies with narrow eyes. He doesn’t trust Eddie yet, not entirely. 

“There’s more space in my van. If you wanted some company.”

Eddie leaves it like that, keeps it casual, knows that he might get it shoved right back in his face—expects it to be, even. And so he’s surprised at how quickly Steve nods back at him, a real smile breaking out on his face, if only for a moment, until Steve clears his throat and says, “Sure, yeah. That’d be cool, I guess.”

It’s the start of something big. A delicate balance where the two of them pretend that it’s not that important, but somehow they’re more honest with each other than they’ve ever been with anyone else. Steve tells Eddie all about how he doesn’t even really know who he is anymore, and in return Eddie shares just how worried he is that he knows exactly who he’s expected to be, and that he can’t change his fate even if he wanted to.

By the time the next school year starts, it’s well established with the school population that Steve Harrington has somehow landed himself with an honorary spot in the Hellfire Club. He doesn’t play—refuses to learn, even if it’s clear that he’d do pretty much anything else that Eddie Munson would ask of him—but he helps set up the meetings, sits with them at lunch, smiles stupidly whenever Eddie gets up onto the cafeteria tables to rant about the shallow-mindedness of his peers. 

And if Eddie’s diatribes are directed at the popular crowd with a little more venom than they used to be, and if he seems to take great pleasure whenever Tommy H, or Carole, or those posers on the basketball team frown and scoff and sneer at him, it’s no great secret to everyone else in the lunch hall exactly why. 

[Yeah, I'm scouring the archives and trying to salvage as many headcanons as I can from my old deleted account, but let's just pretend this is brand new content.]

[raitonsfw]

𝟸𝟻𝟶 𝟶𝟶𝟶 𝚢𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 | 𝚐𝚘𝚓𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚞 ꨄ

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Gojo was a big fucking spender, whether you liked it or not. Almost every clothing item he owned ranged well over the price of 150 000 yen, even his shoes; sometimes those were more expensive. Coming home one day from work, there’s a pink gift bag (complete with a lil bow and all) sitting pretty on the ottoman for you. As you opened it, black expensive lace peeked back at you and so did the price, zeros going on for miles on the tiny tag.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, boyfriend!gojo, rich!gojo, dirty talk, lingerie (and the tearing of it), grinding (if you squint), fingering, cunnilingus, slight breeding kink, p in v intercourse, creampie, insecurity (about how much gojo spends), corny pick up lines, sayings, & jokes, pet names (sweetheart, baby, angel, pretty, princess, good girl), lovedrunk, feral, & pussywhipped gojo (man loves you, would hang the moon for you fr), a surprise near the end (i said he loves you goddammit)

a/n: happy february 1st (finally can say it without the queue messing up my schedule) anyway, here's my second valentine for you loves! i hope you enjoy, until next week! 💌 wc: 3.4k. v-day m.list | m.list

a/n pt 2: p.s. i'm such a sucker for writing gojo kinda cringey. alsoo its not my best work but i did what i could!

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

Coming home was the biggest mistake you had made in your entire life, because what the fuck was this? Your fingers held up a piece of lace material, black in color and you puzzled at it as you noticed that the lingerie piece barely looked as though it’d cover anything; thanks to your million dollar boyfriend.

“It’s gorgeous, huh?” You heard his promiscuous voice ring out through the living room at just the right time, when your voice cursed him to the high heavens. You nearly jumped out of your skin, the lingerie falling near your feet and you turned quickly to face him, his hip popped against the doorframe.

“Satoru!” Your face was bright red, the blush spreading down your neck and you hid your face underneath your sweatshirt sleeve with a scowl. Gojo was in his usual sorcerer uniform, complete with the black blindfold covering the vivid blue and you still tried to shy away from him even though you knew you couldn’t. Not when his eyes saw all, saw the way yours glistened at the thoughtful gift.

“Hey sweetheart. Like the gift?” 

“I told you not to buy me any more lingerie…” You huffed, glancing at the tag as you went to put the set back in the bag. There was an infinite amount of zeroes littering the price tag and you almost dropped the lingerie piece again– in utter shock that the fucking price was over 250,000 yen. “Oh my God…”

“Oh, please. I know you, you don’t wear lingerie sets more than twice. And last time I checked, I tore the last one.” He smirked, walking towards you with a tiny skip in his step and your hands trembled as you smoothed the lace over with your delicate fingers. “Besides, your favorite store was having a Valentine’s Day sale and I just had to have you in that.” 

Right, it was Valentine’s Day soon. 

“A sale?! This doesn’t look like a price tag for a sale. More like someone’s monthly rent, -toru.” You frowned, feeling Gojo’s strong arms fold underneath your waist and he took the fabric in his hands. Unfurling it from its tangled confines, he draped it over you with a gentle hum of a tune evading your surroundings.

“Hold it like that for me.” Gojo murmured as he stepped around you, standing in front of you while checking behind him as he backed up slightly. He focused on you, his fingers coming up to ‘snap a picture’ and you blushed profusely when you saw the dopey smile that mustered up on his face. Your blush turned into another scowl though as you remembered the price of it, how could he just spend money so fruitlessly?

Gojo lifted his blindfold for a few seconds to glance at your figure; you could see the gears turning in his head and you wouldn’t be very surprised if he sprouted an erection right then and there. But he also noticed your glowering eyes and his lighthearted demeanor faded away, a worried look washing over his face.

“What’re mad for, baby? I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to spoil you.” 

“You spend so much on me, I’m not worth that much.” You muttered, starting to fold the lingerie set to put it back in the bag; away and out of sight from you.

You usually liked Gojo’s sweet gestures, gifts piled at your doorstep like it was Christmas every month normally but this time it just seemed a bit out of place– you knew him to flaunt his wealth alot but this? He’s never gotten you something so expensive. You couldn’t accept such a generous gift that would be soiled within minutes of wearing it.

“Excuse me? Where’d you learn that crazy talk from?” Gojo said with an exasperated gasp, coming to embrace you and you didn’t answer him as he pulled you close. His hands feathered through your hair and honestly you couldn’t breath through the fabric of his jacket, the turtleneck part of it threatening to strangle you as he squeezed himself around you in a tight hug.

“Don’t ever think that! I would buy the world for you if I could manage to fit it inside a gift box.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh into his chest, his words souring after they sat for a minute. “That was so cringey, Satoru.” 

“You still love me though, perks of being me… I think?” Gojo let go of you, holding you by your shoulders now and you reached up to slip his blindfold fully off. He blinked through the dimness of the apartment, his eyes fixating on you once more. 

There was something that just made you feel so in love with him, everytime you managed to zero in on those hypnotic eyes of his– almost every bad thought melted away and yeah, you were definitely overreacting. 

Let the man spoil you, if he so wishes.

“Yes, I still love you.” You fonded, planting a luscious kiss against his lips and he had no qualms, his mouth instantly moving against you eagerly. Gojo softly moaned into the kiss, one of his hands snaking down your back towards your ass and you squeaked out as he gave you a tiny swat against the plushness of it.

“Great, now go try on the lingerie.” Thrusting the bag back into your hands, he grinned at you and there was no way in hell you could deny him– not with the way he looked, so ecstatic to see you in the precious lace garments he bought you.

Putting it on wasn’t much of a struggle, it fit you nicely in all the right places. The full length mirror did you just enough justice, staring back at a body that had devious curves and everything in between the skimpy lace that barely covered your intimates. You weren't all that self conscious, though you weren’t sure what you’d do once you were in front of Gojo. Where would he look first? 

Would his eyes lay against your breasts that bobbed in the lace, perched up prettily or would they drag to your soft thighs, cuffed in the garter belt holding up the thigh highs that accented the set? Would they focus on your mound and in the middle, your drenched pussy staining the thin fabric or would he drool over everything all at once? 

“Baby… Are you done yet? I’m getting lonely.” You heard him mewl outside the door, a soft tap from his knuckle echoing through the bathroom and you nodded to yourself, adjusting little bits and pieces of the thread to make sure it sat perfectly for him. 

You paused with your hand on the doorknob. Why were you so goddamn nervous? 

“You have it on? C’mon, let me see already.” 

As you opened the door, Gojo wasn’t in front of it anymore. Instead, he was seated on the lavish sofa that met in the center of the room, his head lying lazily against the back of it with his arms extended. His thighs were spread apart on the cushions, his legs folding outwards and you could already see a lush bulge in his trousers, peaked with interest as he waited impatiently for you. You wanted to skip the shame of twirling for him and just sit yourself right against it, sit yourself down on it and just–

Gojo’s head snapped up– he must’ve sensed you– and his bright eyes zeroed in on your face first. Then they trailed down towards your body, drinking in the adorned curves of the lingerie on you and his mouth fell open in a quiet sigh. “Y/N…” 

You walked towards him, a small sway to your step and his hands pressed down against the sofa as you neared him. They nearly white knuckled it, his mouth still open and his eyes flickering over every crevice of the threads decorating you– his knees had quickly pressed together and you’ve never seen him so flustered in your entire life. Sure, you’ve modeled for him here and there with other gorgeous sets; but this was different. 

Was this your Satoru? The ego induced maniac who could and would knock you off your feet with a single flirtatious remark? It was refreshing to see him like this– reduced to nothing but boyish clouded lust.

“You going to say something other than my name, baby?” You asked, pureness reining your voice and you purred inwardly when he was still speechless. You eyed at the seam of his trousers, noticing the way it tented up considerably just from a few seconds of gazing you over. “Satoru?” 

“Hi, yes sorry. Come here.” Gojo’s hand faltered slightly as he reached for you and you happily obliged, straddling his lap. A low hum escaped him as you sat flush with his clothed cock against your heat, his legs spreading apart again to let you sink down onto him comfortably. “Holy hell, is this heaven ‘cause you look like–” 

“So help me if you finish that sentence, I’ll take this off.” You interrupted, getting ready to move off of him but his hands grasped your hips greedily. 

“That’s what I’m hoping for, angel.” A naughty grin crept up on his face as he pulled you into a warm kiss. Yeah, it’s definitely your Satoru.

His tongue slid past your lips easily and his eyes slipped shut, drawing you closer to him– faintly aware of the slickness that roughed up his trousers. You bit his lip seductively and a startled moan spilled into your mouth heavily, his hips subtly rocking up into you. It was needy and desperate and everything you ever wanted to hear and feel from him, because of course he was already riled up– just look at you.

His fingers looped inside the lace of your panties, rubbing his fingertips against the seams of it and you hummed as they curved towards the where you needed it most. His other hand fondled your breast, the flesh of it spilling out over the cups and all he wanted to do was press a tender kiss to your nipple, sucking it in between his teeth to nip and tug til it reddened with overstimulation. 

“Are you going to touch me or…” You shook him from his daze, earning a sarcastic snort from him.

You moaned quietly as his hand immediately slipped underneath the fabric, toying with your nipple until it hardened and a gentle finger swiped through the slick that collected inside your panties. He tsked, “Already ruining the lace, so filthy…” 

You let out a tiny huff, intending to apologize when two of his fingers sunk through your arousal and you leaned into him with a whimper. Gojo didn't hesitate to mark up your neck as soon as you moved forward, his teeth grazing alongside the nasty bruises and your hips jutted out as he expertly curled his digits into you. You whined into his ear– a glorious symphony if he must say so himself– and his thumb pressed into the swell of your clit. Sucking a languid hickey against the near front of your neck, he noticed you had started to move against him– fucking your perfect cunt down onto his pliant fingers.

Every roll of your hips, his cock got some action as well; as your clit rubbed against the tip of his cock that threatened to burst out of his trousers now. Holy fuck, he was straining too– he knew you could feel it as you sat right against it. He was losing his train of thought more and more by the second as you panted out, he needed more– so much more, his dick was nearly crying as it leaked out tiny droplets of precum in his boxers. If you weren’t so lost in pleasure at the moment, you would’ve noticed the small wet spot forming in the fabric– his jujutsu uniform’s probably going to need to be dry cleaned.

He would finish his pick up line if he could speak, his voice not quite there anymore– you looked like a heaven sent angel veiled in the lingerie of a hell spawned devil. 

From his angle, Gojo could see the swell of your ass lightly jiggling, the lace barely covering it and the flesh of your thighs sat beautifully against his own and honestly he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed you, his vision blackening with lust as you worked yourself fully open on his fingers now. His cock ached so fucking badly and he vaguely noted to get you crotchless lingerie next time so he could just slide right in without needing to fumble with the weird straps. 

When your breath hitched in your throat as your clit spasming directly against the frenulum of his cock, his tip desperately trying to dip into the lace through his thick fucking clothing– he lost it.

“Fuck it…” You heard him growl against your laced breast as he popped it out of its cup, the entire bralette tearing on impact. You gasped at the ripping sound, but you were too delirious to scold him as his fingers started fucking faster into you to keep you quiet about the torn lingerie. Gojo snagged your nipple in his mouth with a frantic moan, his fingers coated with slick as he pulled them out quickly to tear off your panties. They shedded easily and you were left with remnants of lace pristine against your body, another gasp coming from you as you realized what he did.

“-toru, what are you–?!” 

Before you could finish your sentence, your entire figure was thrown against the cushions of the sofa and his shirt and trousers were stripped from his body. His eyes were trained on your ripped lingerie and you couldn’t quite figure out what was going on in his head until he yanked the rest of it off, excluding your thigh highs. And now you were exposed in front of him and he was out 250,000 yen; because he just couldn’t keep his composure.

“I’ll buy you another set, I swear– though I can’t guarantee it’ll survive…” Gojo said under his breath, planting kisses down the span of your chest. He trailed them towards your tummy, innate circles rubbing into your hips and he shuddered at how the garter belt sat snug against your waist– and how easy it was to tear off, his teeth latching on it with fervor. You gasped as you felt the band snap, your thigh highs falling  down slightly where they sat as they were no longer held up by the precious lace. 

He grabbed the extra lace from his mouth and threw it somewhere across the room, his tongue immediately delving into your tight heat. A broken whine was coaxed from your throat as he fucked it in and out needily, quiet pants breathing over your cunt. Gojo’s hands grabbed at your thighs, pressing his nose straight into your clit as he lapped at everything he could reach and you couldn’t help the wanton moans that leaked from your mouth, your hands grasping at his snowy hair.

He was downright animalistic at this point. You carved his shoulder blades with your nails, desperate for him to drive you over the edge; your impending orgasm making your legs tremble. “Satoru, shit– c-close…”

“C’mon, cum for me, pretty.” He murmured into your cunt, slightly muffled and you keened up into his mouth– ultimately fucking yourself on his tongue. And God, did he groan at that; his hums of utter satisfaction basically sent you spasming through your climax. Your hands flew to the edge of the sofa, clutching tightly as you rolled your hips into the insane pleasure– into his mouth that lapped up every drool of arousal that leaked out from your convulsions. He was vain with it too, looping out his fucking name against your folds to claim you as you whimpered his name.

“T-Take me with you to shop next time.” You managed out as you sat up on your elbows, looking down at him while you came down from your high. “I’ll decide what you can and can’t rip.” 

Gojo tutted out a laugh, coming up to hover over you– his chin glinted with your juices and you reddened at the sight of how goddamn needy you were. “Fine, baby– now arch your back f’ me.”

His cock prodded your entrance, slender fingers wrapped around the base of it as he guided it into you greedily and you threw your head back against the arm of the sofa with a whine. You did exactly as he said; you arched your back into the intoxicating pleasure, his cock stretching you out and filling every bit of space you could give him. He fit perfectly within you everytime, which made you dizzy with lust as you hooked one hand around the back of his neck.

“Always take me so well, princess.” Gojo purred, not bothering to let you adjust as he started to snap his hips into you. “Fits like a glove, huh?” 

You were so sore already– from the last orgasm wreaking havoc– but you couldn’t get enough of his long cock drilling into you, every thrust kissing your cervix and making your walls clench around him with whimpers drowning out the riveting squelches. You managed to look up at him, his fingertips nudging into the plush of your thighs, against the sleek material of your thigh highs and you knew he wasn’t going to last very long. 

His eyes were already rolling back into his head at every fill of his cock dragging against your walls, his jaw slack and you were surprised at how pussy whipped he was– normally he’d watch you religiously writhe underneath him. His hair was disheveled as he ran his hand through it before frantically gripping your thigh again, panting out curses and you inadvertently squeezed hard around him at the action with a high pitched moan. 

“Oh– fuck, holy shit..! Keep squeezing me like that, we’re g-gonna have to go shopping–” Gojo groaned out, his cock pounding into you harder now, pleasure coursing through your entire body as he hit your sweet spot dead on. 

“F-For more lingerie?” 

“No, for a fucking crib.”

“Fuck, Satoru– faster.” You whined out, completely obsessed with the thought and you felt your second climax tremble through your thighs, straight towards the throbbing of your cunt. ‘Cum in me, -toru…please.”

Gojo didn’t answer you, too wrapped up in your pretty pussy with hefty moans pouring out of him and his fingers slipped down towards your clit. He rubbed circles against it, interchanging his angle to fuck you deeper, faster– and you could feel how close you were.

“Got another surprise for you on Valentine’s Day, baby…” He started babbling, his chest rising and falling as he rutted into you. His eyes slipped from his cock, creamy and wet from your arousal, to your eyes now. “Involves a little jewelry piece, think you’ll love it… Think you’ll love me even more.” 

You didn’t hear him though, too caught up in your release caving in every sense you had and replacing them with pure euphoria. You couldn’t fucking see, hear, even think as it overtook your body. You came so hard around his cock, clenching and unclenching which brought Gojo to his own release rather quickly. He stilled in you with a harsh whine and his eyes squeezed shut as he came in you, white ropes leaking out rather abruptly. 

He repeated soft praises like ‘good girl, take it all…’ and ‘gonna make sure none drools outta you, so good for me’ a few times in a needy tone, collapsing against your chest afterwards. Gojo buried his face into your neck, smoothing his hands over the thigh highs you had on. 

“I’m so sorry about the lingerie, Y/N…” He apologized, his eyes glancing up towards yours as he moved over to litter kisses on your cheek. “We’ll go shopping tomorrow, I promise. You’ll pick out your Valentine’s Day lingerie set and I’ll watch you model it for me–”

You interrupt him with a soft kiss, humming against his lips. “It wasn’t my money, it was yours, you idiot.”

Gojo blinked at you, then a mischievous look crossed his face. “How about a nice pink set this time? Frilly, rose hearts covering your perky nipples and–” 

“Satoru.”

a/n: wanna get tagged in future writing posts? join my taglist!

[cowboydisaster]

I have no idea about the historical accuracy of this but imagine a reader who used to be in a pretty well off family (think like the braithwaites level in society) but she left it all and gave everything up to be with Arthur. It’s her first Christmas away from her family and she misses the Christmas tree back home. Queue Arthur cutting a tree down with his big manly man strength and dragging it back to camp to surprise her🥲

* ˚ ✦ Stardust * ˚ ✦

pairing: arthur morgan x f!reader word count: 4k a/n: margo!! This prompt was too cute. I kinda took it and RAN so I hope I did it justice! xx

cowboydisaster's christmas countdown: SEVEN days 'till christmas!

christmas countdown┊main masterlist┊rdr2 masterlist

If there's one thing you haven't gotten used to in this way of life, it's the elements. Camp is situated in Big Valley along the Upper Montana River. It's beautiful, and more open country than you've ever seen in your life. But damn, is it cold in winter. Snow drifts down from Mount Shann, creating a beautiful flurry of white around camp, albeit a freezing one. 

At this moment, though, the cold doesn't bother you. In the safety of your tent, back tucked against Arthur's chest, it's impossible for the cold to reach you. He keeps you warm. Like a furnace, that man. You'd be worried he was running a fever if you weren't so used to his toasty-warm temperature. 

You shuffle against Arthur, readjusting in the soft cotton cot. The wind whispers quietly outside, peacefully. Gone is the loud whipping ice storm that had come through a week or so ago. It's been replaced by a quiet falling of snow, the creak of nearby oaks. 

“Darlin’? What is it?” Arthur whispers, voice sleepy against your ear. The hand that's hung over your waist squeezes gently, a small act of encouragement to respond. You smirk. You can picture his face, eyes closed, or half-lifted, eyebrows knitting with worry. 

“What's wrong?” He whispers again. The hand on your waist flattens against your stomach, gently pulling you back towards him. 

Oh, your Arthur. His heart is perfectly in tune with yours, and well, when yours is sunk, he notices. A peculiar little thing you've discovered– he always notices those small details, those small fluctuations in your mood. On top of that, he always addresses them. 

Those selfless personality traits are why you left the city in the first place. Arthur is genuine, real. He's caring, and he communicates with you when you're upset. Your mamá and papá were far too concerned with selling you off to the most eligible bachelor in Saint Denis to care about your feelings. The bachelor's characteristics were of no importance, just his wealth and status in society. That life was… a load of shit, as your dear Arthur would say. 

You'd started sneaking downtown at night to get away from the chaos of your home. Your parents were always fighting and screaming. Broken dishes and ringing ears became a staple in that house. La Bastille Saloon was a short walk from your house on Flavian Street. And that's where you met Arthur. 

Despite his career, you immediately recognized him to be the first honest man that you'd ever met in your life. In a mere thirty seconds of conversation, you'd found a depth to him that your father could never scratch, a kindness that no arranged husband would show you. And so it became a habit. You'd sneak out of your window a few times a week, meeting him at La Bastille– talking, laughing, drinking. Arthur's whiskey burned far more than the French wine you'd sipped on in your life. Where you came from, drinking was for show. To sip on a glass of imported chablis was to assert class, but Arthur taught you how to drink for fun. He'd taught you how to play cards and how to cure a hangover. Your parents would be mortified at your unladylike behavior. 

Arthur showed you fun, and kindness, spontaneity and honesty in a world that you thought was without those virtues. When Arthur had asked you to join him, it was an easy yes. He laid it all out. the good, the bad and the ugly. Criminals, you'd be joining. He was afraid that you would turn away, but crime is no stranger to you. Coming from high society, you saw the rich take from the poor time and again. You saw laundering and fraud, servitude, coercion and arranged murder. 

All your family does is twist lies for their own benefit. They're all snakes, sinking their teeth into everything they come across. Gluttonous in their pursuit to expel venom. It has drowned the whole city of Saint Denis, sunk into the cobblestone roads and poisoned the entire place. 

You see more honesty in the Van der Linde's life of crime than in your family's. At least the Van der Lindes are honest about what they do, and only rob from those who rob from others. 

Leaving with Arthur was the most freeing feeling you've ever experienced. You love him with all your heart. You love the gang, and your new life, and yet even with all that you've gained, you still left so much behind. Joining Arthur; it's the best decision you've ever made, and you don't regret it for a moment, but the approaching holiday is bringing out sadness, memories of your childhood, friends that you'd left in the city. Any good memory of the city is recalled through rose tinted glasses, but still, it's beginning to sting now that it's almost Christmas.

“Darlin’?” Arthur says, the grogginess no longer evident in his voice. He pulls you back to the present like a tether. His thumb drags soothingly over your hip bone, and underneath the thick blankets, you lay your hand atop his. 

“Hmm?” You offer. 

“Where's your head at?” Arthur whispers, breath against your ear. 

“Oh, just thinking.” You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes. It's a sad smile, bittersweet. If a candle were lit, and he could see it, Arthur would be much more worried. 

His fingertips brush your hair away from your face, gently pulling some strands behind your ear towards the braid they have escaped from. 

Arthur lifts his hand from you, adjusting the blankets as you turn over in bed. Once you're facing him, he makes sure that all of the blankets cover your frame.

“It's just that this will be my first Christmas away from home.” 

A small silence ensues. One that threatens to let tears slip down your rosy cheeks. Your nose tucks into Arthur's chest as you sniffle, hoping he hasn't taken your words with offense. This is your home now, and you wouldn't have it any other way. But old habits die hard. 

“You missin’ home?” Arthur whispers between kisses to your hair. You shake your head quickly 

“No-no. I don't want you to think-” 

“Baby, I ain't gonna give you a hard time ‘cause you're missin’ home. Hell… my childhood weren’t nothin’ but a world of pain, and sometimes I miss it.” 

You should have expected his understanding. Arthur's never made you feel foolish for your feelings. His hand traces along your hip, keeping you warm and coaxing you to settle back into the comfortable space that he’s surrounded you with. 

“I’m finding it difficult.” You whisper, “The holidays are coming up, and they’re bringing lots of memories. Fond ones, things I don’t want to forget.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well…” You crack a small smile, eyes going far away, back to old memories long ago, “Papá would have a Christmas tree shipped from Cumberland forest, only the best for him of course.” You chuckle, and Arthur smiles for the sweet sound. 

“And we would decorate it with candles, blown glass, popcorn and cranberries. Oh, it was such a sight Arthur.” You say, a wonder in your voice. The memories are crystal clear in your head. Bright colors, laughter, songs. 

Arthur's Christmas memories don't bring much joy. Except for the year his daddy didn't come home. Still, the way your eyes have lit up– Arthur wishes he could have experienced the Christmas that you're describing. He wishes he could see you with that much joy. 

“Have you ever seen a Christmas tree?” You ask, rekindling that tether and pulling him back to you. 

“Nah, only in the papers. I ain't never lived nowhere so fancy to have a Christmas tree.” 

“It was so beautiful…” You whisper, a chill running down your spine. You hardly notice it, but Arthur pulls you closer nonetheless, his body heat wrapping around you like the warmest of blankets. 

“It seemed as if when the tree was decorated and we all sat together, maybe it was not so bad.” You murmur, and the wonder dissipates from your eyes, replaced with reality. 

Arthur waits for you to collect your thoughts. A whistle of wind breaks the silence before you do. 

“Ah, I'm sorry for this show of emotion. It's silly of me.” 

He shakes his head, forehead gently meeting yours. Your eyes marvel up at Arthur, making out the deep blue of his eyes from a stretch of moonlight that's infiltrated the room. 

“You ain't ever gotta apologize for gettin’ emotional, sweetheart. Not with me.” 

All you can do is nod, feeling again like a schoolgirl with butterflies running rampant in your stomach. His breath traces your face, noses just barely lining each other. 

His lips meet yours, soft and sweet. Your heart soars like it does every time he kisses you. It's something that you're sure you won't ever get used to. But something you're hoping to find familiarity in, because you never want to stop kissing him. 

He pulls away all too soon for your liking, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead. When he hears your small whine, he huffs. 

“I know, get back to sleep baby, I'll still be here in the mornin’.”

It doesn't take long for you to slip back into slumber, not with the soft whisper of the wind, and the cocoon of warmth around you. Arthur practically carries you across the threshold into sleep with the way his arms wrap around you. 

In the little tent, deep in the snow, Arthur begins to hatch his plan. He kisses your head, climbing over you and out of bed to light a candle. It provides just enough light to illuminate the pages of his journal. Just enough light for him to illustrate his surprise. 

He had promised you– all those months ago, when he'd packed your bags onto his horse and ridden you out of the city– that he would do anything and everything to make you happy. It's a promise that he intends to keep  

— — — 

a few days later 

“This is the one.” Arthur marvels, sparkling eyes cast upwards toward the fullest, greenest evergreen in Cumberland Forest. You deserve nothing but the best, and he’s sure that he’s found it.  

Arthur takes a short moment to pull out his journal, dusting some fallen snow from the leather cover. He sketches the tree, a way for him to remember the moment. To remember how the tree had been, perfectly untouched in nature. He takes his time, back propped against the unhitched wagon in the forest, hat covered in a thick dusting of snow. A few flakes even drop onto the page, melting and smudging his charcoal. 

When the branches are sketched to his liking, he accompanies them with a quick passage and closes the book. 

For the lady. Christmas. 1899. 

When the book snaps shut and is stuffed back into his journal, he looks up, finding a questioning look on his trusted stallion’s face. 

“What?” Arthur’s brow furrows, “I’ll plant another one.” 

The stallion sighs.  

Arthur moves around the back of the wagon, pulling an ax from the toolbox, dusting some snow off the handle with gloved hands. The ground is covered in a thick layer of white, the horses too. They press their noses together, whinnying and rumbling, entertaining each other with horse-typical play in the snow. 

“Jasper. Sugar. Quit bein’ sweet on one another, we got work to do.” Arthur calls back to the two horses. What a pair, those two.

Jasper is Arthur’s stallion. He’s well behaved. Shy. Obedient. Then there’s Sugar. She was a gift from Arthur to you. White as snow and wild as the wind. She still is, despite all of her training. 

Arthur had brought the pair of them with the wagon to pull the tree back to camp. But now, Sugar seems more interested in kicking up snow, and well– Jasper is only interested in following Sugar around, hearts practically emitting from his eyes. 

Snow falls in thick flakes,  dotting Arthur’s red flannel and melting against the thick material.  He pays it no mind. The snowfall silences the forest, save for the rhythmic whack…whack of Arthur’s ax hitting the evergreen, and the softened sound of playful hooves in the snow.

“Don’t tire yourselves out.” Arthur huffs to the horses, “Jesus.”

A few more swings of the ax, and the tree begins to fall. It hits the ground with a thud, not nearly as loud as Arthur imagined it would be. But, the snow softened the fall, he supposes. 

In a matter of minutes, the tree is in the wagon. Just a few more, and Jasper and Sugar are pulling it home. 

If everything is going according to plan, right now you should be with Marybeth, picking holly. She had taken you out, because she had “wanted to spruce up camp a bit.” Little do you know, the little adventure is a part of Arthur’s plan. With you away from camp, he was able to borrow Sugar, take Jasper, and get the tree. With you away from camp, the final touches can fall into place.

Arthur gently taps the reins over the horse’s backs, urging them into a faster canter along the beaten down snow path back towards camp.

“Hyah! C’mon, we’re pushin’ it.” He calls to the horses. The little golden bells on their harnesses jingle and ring as he pushes them towards camp, massive evergreen in tow. He checks his pocket watch, cursing quietly before putting it away.  Sadie should be done by now. 

It’s not long before the horses are pulling into camp, large puffs of white billowing out from their noses as they catch their breath. Arthur hops down from the wagon, his hand running along the expanse of it as he reaches the back. 

“Well,  I’ll be damned!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp. He makes his way towards the wagon, “Now this is how we celebrate Christmas!” 

The evergreen nearly overtakes the wagon, branches sticking out from all directions, billows of snow still stuck to them. Dutch has no idea how Arthur managed to get it into the wagon. An approaching Hosea is just as flabbergasted.  

“You know, I never took you to be much of a romantic, Arthur. But this might just prove me wrong.” Hosea 

“Whatever you say. Now, quit gawkin’ and help me get this big bastard up.” Arthur mumbles, grabbing the thick tree by the trunk and pulling it down. Sap sticks to his hands as he begins to drag it out of the wagon. Carrying it into the center of camp is a group effort– much easier than Arthur getting it into the wagon by himself. 

“I reckon you two can handle this. I got some other things to check up on.” Arthur steps back, sizing the tree up and down.

“Run along then and leave us the hard work.” Dutch muses, within earshot of Arthur.

“Figured it would do your old bones some good to do real work, Dutch!” Arthur hollers back over his shoulder,  chuckling to himself as he makes his way towards the circle of tents.

“Mrs. Adler?”  Arthur hollers, approaching the A-frame tent, “You in there?”

Before he can part the white canvas tent, Sadie emerges, and he backs up.

 “You get it done?” Arthur asks, cheeks tinged bright pink from the cold. Hat white instead of black. Sadie chuckles for it. 

“Did I get it done?” Sadie mocks with a huff, “A’ course I got it done.”

From her tent, she pulls out a Christmas tree garland. A string carefully woven through dried cranberries and popped corn. It's beautiful and long. It must have taken her hours to make. Arthur’s eyes go wide in small wonder as she transfers the garland to him. 

“S’perfect, Sadie. She’s gonna love this.”

A wide, bittersweet smile stretches across Sadie’s face, “Jake taught me how,” there is a pause as Arthur nods in understanding, “Now go. Go decorate it for your woman.” Sadie smirks.  

“Dear boy! Dear boy, how does it look?” Hosea calls out, and Arthur’s attention shoots towards the tree. They have it standing upright now, perfectly in the center of camp. It stands tall, a real beauty. 

“Perfect.” He gapes at it, wishing he could have done something like this when he was younger– hoping that it will live up to your memories. Arthur doesn’t have the money to buy fancy ornaments, but he’s doing everything in his power to make it special for you. 

With the help of the horses and the wagon, everyone manages to wrap the garland the whole way around the tree, even up to the top. The little trail of white and red looks beautiful against the dark green of the pine. Arthur places lit candles in holders on the branches, casting a beautiful hazy glow that lights up the tree. Camp members begin to gather, circling around the tree, watching and helping. Mrs. Grimshaw offers some holly. Karen offers some candy canes that she had bought in town, hanging them from the branches. 

The sun begins to set, and Arthur checks his watch, knowing that you’ll be back any minute. A small tug on his pants pulls his attention downwards. 

“Uncle Arthur?” Little Jack whispers, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the tree lights, “I made this for you! For you to put it on auntie's tree!” 

Arthur’s brow furrows, and he glances quickly up to Abigail, who is smiling warmly. Jack reaches into his little bag and pulls out a beautiful paper star. He has apparently put a lot of time and effort into folding and cutting the paper into a perfect little topper. Jack’s little hands extend the star up to Arthur, the smile on his face brighter than any of the tree’s candles. 

“You made this?” Arthur asks. 

“Yep, I sure did! Momma even helped me cut the paper!” 

Arthur kneels on the ground– eye level with Jack, a smirk on his lips,  “I think we better put it on the top then, don't you?”

“Oh yes! It would be perfect on top! I just hope aunt y/n likes it…” 

“She’ll love this, buddy.” 

With some more help from a very grumpy Sugar, Arthur manages to place the star perfectly on  the tree top. And just in time, apparently.

When Arthur steps back, taking in the tree for all its glory, his jaw falls slack, eyes filling up with wonder.

It's beautiful. At dusk, the candles shine brightly. The garland has attracted a few red cardinals, and they rest in the branches, comfortable in the new camp tree. Everyone looks in awe. It’s perfect.

— — — 

“No peekin’.” Arthur whispers in your ear from behind, his hands covering your eyes. He slowly walks you forwards towards… something. He hasn’t explained anything to you, just… kidnapped you right outside of camp. You’ve been walking with him, eyes covered for nearly five minutes. 

“Oh, Arthur, what is going on!?” You giggle, hands covering the length of his own, a smile plastered on your face. 

“S’a surprise, darlin’. That’s why you can’t peek.” Arthur’s voice whispers from behind you,  his chest nearly pressed against your back as he inches you forward. 

You roll your eyes. Suddenly, his footsteps are still behind you, and you stop in return. 

“Is this why I was stuck in the forest picking berries all day?” You ask. Arthur huffs. 

“Shhh. We’re here.” He shushes. 

Your heart quickens with excitement, bottom lip tight between your teeth with anticipation. As much as you try to listen for any clues, all you can hear is the munching of hay and the crackle of the campfire– typical for camp after dusk. 

“Arthur…?” You whisper, almost afraid to break the quiet. Anticipation swirls in your stomach, followed by anxiety tickling up your spine. 

His calloused hands pull away from your eyes, and your lashes flutter as you focus on the sight in front of you.

It’s… a christmas tree. Your jaw falls slack, and as unladylike as it may be, you can’t help it. A small gasp escapes your rosy lips. 

It must be twelve feet high, and it's thick with branches. Candles, and decor wrap around the tree like a dress tailored to perfection. Color and light burst from the beautiful tree, and before you can control yourself, tears are welling up in your eyes. 

“Arthur, I–” Your voice cracks, the tears almost spilling over.

“Darlin’?” Arthur’s thumb softly brushes the inside of your hand. For a moment, he worries that he’s misstepped terribly. The sight of your tears brings forth a small panic, quelled by the outburst of your smile. Tears fall freely from your eyes, but they are of joy– not sadness. 

“You got me– You got me a Christmas tree?” You smile, wiping away the tears as he envelopes you into his warm arms. You sniffle, laughs of pure joy escaping into his chest as he holds you tight.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Arthur whispers to you, arms wrapped around your waist. The light from the tree dances in your eyes, almost as beautiful and bright as your smile. 

“Oh, Arthur, it’s perfect.” You gasp, eyes glued to the tree, pulling away to glance into Arthur’s eyes, “How ever did you get it here?” 

“With a little help.” Arthur nods towards the horse station where Sugar and Jasper are laying in the hay, nuzzling each other sweetly. As if knowing, Sugar whinnies towards you softly, followed by a quiet neigh from Jasper.  

Your eyes wander back towards the tree in front of you, and then to Arthur once again. His hands slide down from your waist, thumbs settling into the dimples in your back. 

“It's beautiful.” You say.

“It’s all yours.” 

In all of your life, Arthur has been the first person to cater to your emotions– to care about them. Your heart fills with love, so much that it overflows and floods the earth at your feet. Soaking into the ground of the camp, touching the hearts of the others around you. 

“I love you.” You whisper, head resting on Arthur’s chest, eyes fixed on a cardinal that’s pecking at the popped corn on the tree. 

“I-” Arthur pauses, realizing. His brow furrows, eyes flickering down, “Wait, what?”

“I said I love you.” You reiterate, chin propped on his chest to look up at him. Arthur looks nearly blown away by the words. Words he’s not heard from you yet. Words that he’s nearly let slip time and again over the past few months. 

Arthur’s lips crack into a smile, crows feet wrinkling for the action. His thumb brushes your cheek before trailing down to your chin, pulling you in towards his lips. You lean on your tiptoes, brushing your lips against his, meeting him with all the love and joy that you never thought would be possible for you. He’s taken you from a bad situation, and given you everything you could have wanted and more. Your lips press against his, pink-tinged noses lining each other. Your eyes flutter shut, snowflakes catching in your thick lashes as you deepen the kiss. Your fingers tangle into the hair at the base of his neck, your tongues dance with one another. 

When you pull away to breathe, your eyes lock with his, sparkling with light. 

“I love you too.” He smirks, hands wrapping under your thighs, eliciting giggles from you as he hoists you into his arms. Fat snowflakes fall into your hair as Arthur turns towards your tent, ready to carry you to bed. 

“No- wait!” You grip his arm, stopping him in his tracks, “Please, Arthur- just five more minutes. I’d like to keep looking at the tree.” 

Arthur pauses, brushing your cold cheek, “Alright. Five more minutes.” He smiles, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

The tree shines bright as ever, as if god had sprinkled stardust down from the heavens, painting your tree in beautiful white light. 

taglist: @margofiore @mrsarthurmorgan7 @woman-with-no-name @tillith @luvliewriting @pine4pple-b0i @photo1030 @dudsparrow @holyratrimony @twola

[m0chisenpai]

Just Around The Riverbend

Pre-Avatar Way of the Water

Jake Sully x daughter!reader

I feel like we can all agree that Jake is THE king of girl dads.

Jake liked to give each of his children his time as they grew up. One thing he never wanted to make the mistake of was neglecting any of his children. He wanted each and every one of them to have a day of his undivided attention. Whether it was flying his ikran with Lo’ak, hunting with his eldest. Letting his girls lead him on an exploration through Pandora’s forests there was something unique, something special that he always made sure to treasure with his children. 

For you, it was the water. On especially warm days you’d beg your father to take you down to the waters when he wasn’t leading a hunting party. And how could he say no? You’d pout your lips and look up at him with those big beautiful eyes you’d inherited from your mother and he was like putty in your hands. 

Your fathers hand pressed into your stomach gently as the pa’li languidly trotted through the thickets of the forest. 

You whined silent and pressed back into your father looking up at him. And though he didn’t look down he could see the pout on your lips and the impatient look in your eyes. “Are we close yet?” He knew for certain your impatience was directly from him. 

But he wouldn’t fall prey to those pouty eyes again. “Not yet, what does mommy say?”

“Be patient,” and you settled back into your father deciding to busy yourself with your hair which you twirled and pinched at the braids that silently clinked together. Mommy braided it similar to her own adding the pretty beads you would twirl with as she held you in her arms. While your father indulges in your explorations you prefer the comfort of your home in your mothers arms together. 

In the brightness of the night in the home tree on the branches with a view of the stars, your mother would tenderly braid your hair. Slowly she’d twist and plait while her songs filled the night air lulling you into a near slumber. And on some nights you’d join in having memorized them by heart. Your mother would coo and praise you, telling you one day you’d sing for the people. 

Your daydreaming unbeknownst to you was enough to keep you distracted for the remainder of the journey. When you felt your father finally slowing down you perked up. A beautiful fall filled with small creatures led down a ways. The sounds of the water and animals were peaceful, and the beauty of it all left you in awe. 

Your father disconnected his queue and helped you down, but as soon as you feet touched the grass you shot like a bullet into the water. 

And Jake watched on huffing with a smile as he watched your face light up with every splash you made. It was like Eywa was smiling down on you with how the sunlight beamed so beautifully down onto you. No matter how many times he took you to fly or ride out into the forests, you were always left amazed by the beauties of Pandora.

You looked like a princess out of a fairy tale.

“Daddy come in!” Your squeals shook Jake out of his thoughts and he led the pa’li down a way to drink from the waters before sitting along the grass, plunging his feet into the cool waters. You pouted and swam toward your father grabbing his ankle and pulling as hard as you could. But you’d need at least ten more of you if you wanted to pull your father into the water!

And so you pulled again letting out a low growl that your fathers ears picked up on, “oh? Is that a naughty nantang I hear?” You giggled letting out more of your scary growls this time playfully nipping your fathers hands that attempted to pry you away. “Oh and this one bites too! Well…” Your father let out a mighty roar and in one quick move scooped you into his arms twirling the both of you into the water.

Your squeals and giggles were like music to his ears as he held you high above and then brought you down to blow a big raspberry into the side of your face. Your hands pushed against your father's face pleading with him to stop. When you were finally left breathless he let you down to hold you into his side, he smoothed your wet braids out from your face to get a good look at your face. 

“Has the naughty nantang learned its lesson?” Your bubbling giggles were enough for him to know that you were far from done. 

You would spend the entirety of that afternoon splashing in the waters with your father. You’d swim together down the lazy rivers and race your father back to the waterfall. He claims it was a tie but you let your father win because he wasn’t the strongest swimmer like you were. The naughty nantang came back for revenge but the mighty Toruk Makto tamed the beast in an instant. 

And just as the sun slowly began to disappear from the sky Jake brought out Neteyam’s old bow and arrows. Your fathers eyes latched onto a plump fish that was attempting to hide away between the rocks. 

“Right there,” you whispered to the breeze, allowing your fathers hands to adjust your stance. 

“Careful. Breath through here.” He pressed onto your stomach which flexed from the deep breath you took and then, “release.” the bow shot out right into the fish. You waded into the water and scooped the flopping fish up holding it up to your father who praised you and asked if you wanted to try again. 

You’d caught three others lying in a pile next to the two of you as you watched the sun slowly eclipse, eating berries you had snuck from your grandmother. In actuality she knew you had a taste for them and always left them out in a place that was easy enough for you to pocket.

Your feet slowly kicked through the waters as your head lay on your fathers arm. You quietly hummed into the silence of the oncoming night. A sweet song of thanks. And so with your eyes closed you focused on your silent prayer. You thanked Eywa for the fish you caught, for this day with your father and for your father who looked down at you with a sweet love in his eyes at your swaying. 

“What are you singing babygirl?” 

Your eyes remained pressed shut in focus but in just barely a whisper you answered, “to the great mother, I wanted to thank her.”

“Oh, what are you thanking her for?” He knows you liked to practice the thanks to Eywa that hunters whispered, but you recited it perfectly with him for the fish you’d caught. 

“You daddy.” You didn’t see the lone tear that Jake failed to contain, but he didn’t care. He would weep for days at the love that filled his heart for you. And so he leaned down and pressed his forehead to your own gently as to not interrupt your singing and whispered, “yeah, and I thank her for you too babygirl.”

[blehrbie-blog]

Neteyam x Reader story

Sooo, I haven't written anything in genuine years. But after watching Avatar:TWOW I've become hyperfixated and have been scrolling and refreshing the Neteyam x Reader tag basically since the movie came out. As a consequence I've had this idea in the back of my mind that I thought was very sweet and cute (something we all need after that movie) so I decided to sit down and give it a go and see what comes out of my brain. So here it is. I haven't properly edited it and it's pretty much a 1000 words of word vomit and a bunch of time skips but it made me happy to write so I'm sharing it.

Oh, BTW SPOILERS!! but also I don't stick to the event's of the movie so idk I'm just putting it out there in case someone hasn't watched the trailer.

So the idea is our girl meets Neteyam informally for the first time when they're 9. She gets cornered in the jungle by a Palulukan and Neteyam helps her run away from it. She had always known who he is being the firstborn son of the Toruk Makto. She remembers her mom telling her about the big ceremony the Tribe had when he was first born. Everyone knew him.

- You shouldn't go into Palulukan territory without being careful - he says, looking a bit unsure about her now that there's no imminent danger.

- I didn't know I was in its territory

 - Don't wander off too far on your own then.

___________________________

After this meeting, you get closer and become friends, which means as a consequence you occasionally hang out with the rest of Neteyam's family. However, as he gets older and his Dad starts preparing him to be a warrior and later on Lo'ak as well you don't have as much time to spend as you once did laughing and roaming around in the jungle exploring thick forests and shallow pools of water. It's not like you have nothing to do with your life, you do! You've been thinking of taking up lessons from the Tsahik, to see how you can use the spirit of Eywa and nature to help people who are hurting. It just so happens that the Tsahik is Neteyam's grandmother so you sometimes end up seeing him come back from a mission with his father and you share sweet smiles from across the camp.

When the tribe moves to the floating rocks, you are required by the Tsahik to help those injured from the journey and the ones getting used to the new terrain. So you're even more often in the same circles. As you're working one day about to go over to help Ninat with her sprained ankle, someone taps you on the shoulder

-You seem busy with work. - says Neteyam smiling sweetly at you

-Oh! Yes, I was just about to start. How's your training going?

You hadn't spoken in a while, just a quick wave or nod when crossing paths throughout the day. You hadn't noticed but he towers over you by a couple inches now. He nods towards his dad who's speaking with Neytiri at the edge of their tent.

-You know, just the usual responsibilities of carrying on the legacy. - His eyes gaze into you softly, like he's memorizing your face after not seeing it for long. He shakes it off and looks down - Have you got many tasks today?

-Not too much actually, just need to check up on Ninat and prepare some medicinal salves.

- I want to see you later – He looks back up into your eyes and smiles – Maybe we can go on one of our expeditions like before.

You chuckle – Sure, I'd love that.

With a final nod of approval, he stalks away to his parent's side.

When you meet later towards sunset he's waiting patiently with his Ikran by the vines connecting the Hallelujah Mountains to the Jungle below.

-We won't go too far out into the jungle so we have time to come back before sunrise. - He says as he connects his Queue with the Ikran and gazes at you expectantly – Hop on.

Can I trust that I'll come back alive from this flight? - you raise a skeptical eyebrow. He only went through his Iknimaya ritual not too long ago.

He reaches out a hand to help you up onto the animal – I don't think Eywa would forgive me if I wasted you on a simple flight.

You smile warmly into his shoulder as you hold tight onto him feeling the powerful animal shift under you as you fly out.

Roughly 10 years later

____________________________

When he comes back from the Mitkayina islands. He's taller and broader and his hair is much longer pulled into a loose braid around his Queue. You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach when you first see him. He's magnificent and commanding in his presence. The tribe has gathered all around to accept him and Jake back with a warm welcome. And even though you're hidden by your fellow Na'vi, his eyes immediately find you in the crowd and issue an eager and warm smile on his face.

As soon as he has settled the greetings with the current Olo'eyktan and the Tsahik, he finds you – walking to your sleeping pod. You would have gone to say hello and see him up close but, honestly, you were a bit intimidated. What you now knew was a childhood infatuation with him all those years ago still couldn't handle seeing him all of a sudden in all his... perfect glory. You were a little intimidated. But that doesn't stop him from reaching out for you. You see him jog over with a grin. He grabs you by the shoulders about to pull you into a hug but stops himself at the last moment. His eyes roam you over from head to toe and he looks up with glistening eyes -You've grown! - His tone sounds almost unbelieving

-That tends to happen as time passes, yes – you chuckle, hands coming up to hold onto his arms. His strong arms.

-I'm not too sure what I expected you to look like but you're... way beyond any expectation – He sounds so awe-struck as he's still taking you in, that you start to feel a little embarrassed.

-I can say the exact same thing – You say as you meet his gaze again. As you do his face softens and he brings you into his arms finally.

-I missed you, my friend.

Your hand caresses his hair gently – I missed you too.

You break apart and you decide to go for some late food with him abandoning your plans of sleep.

_______________________

Months later, when they have their first kiss. It's a slow thing. He will say something dry-humoured in his soft voice and she'll forget to laugh too busy staring at him, realizing how in love she is. And has been all these years. And when he notices that she hasn't replied he'll look at her and know immediately. That she's realized, at last. And he'll come to hold her like she's the most precious thing in his world. He'll thread his fingers through her hair bringing her face close to his. Forehead pressed to hers, patiently waiting for her to join him in the reality he has been living. Where they have loved each other for a while, longed and missed unbelievably because of it, and are finally able to bask in it. The warm smiles and looks, the casual closeness that not being apart allows. The things he has been dreaming of. He looks at her lips and back at her eyes, pulling back slightly to give her some space. Maybe she's not entirely understanding his feelings, maybe she's too caught up in her own to recognize his signs, he thinks, ready to give her all the time- When she grabs his neck and drags him back to her. - Neteyam... – her eyes are glossy like she's about to cry. So he caresses her cheeks gently and finally presses their lips sweetly together. And he can not compare it to any other feeling he has ever experienced. It's not like loving her, that's easy and at the same time overwhelming. It has brought him to the point that he is ready to lay down his life and all of his family's expectations to travel back to the tribe just to see her. To be reunited. But this feeling, this kiss is like knowing, that he won't be alone in his love and he can give her his all, his soul. They stay there, lost in the sweetness of being together like never before until the sun has long set and the moon has long risen.

_______________________

That is it! I do realise I keep skipping between tenses, I apologise if anyone finds it annoying and hope you enjoyed!

Edit: I thought it might be useful to put a link to part 2 down here so: Next

[lovemyavatar]

Pull - a Push Mini Epilogue

Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

@halibanana requested: Oo! It's so good! Can I request a part 2 where they resolve how he ignored her? I'd love to see their relationship evolve!

Summary: I love a good grovel

Warnings: fluff, (aged up) nsfw, oral (fem receiving), jealousy, slight angst, poor bby Neteyam is on the struggle bus fr

Equilibrium

Being with Neteyam is like swimming at first morning light.

In the beginning, the water is freezing. It prickles your skin, chills your bones, sends a shiver up your spine. Then, gradually—sometimes without notice—it warms. It envelopes you, soothing tense muscles and unfurling clenched digits. But, the second you leave the precious cocoon of serenity, the breeze hits your skin and you're trembling all over again.

Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan is an enigma.

He's soft edges, smooth skin, tender embraces. When you're alone, he can't keep his hands off of you. In those private moments, he pulls you in close, back against his chest, and simply adores you. He's gentle, lips and fingers caressing glowing freckles so lightly, you wonder if it's all a dream.

In front of the clan, however, it's as if another being inhabits his body entirely. The weight of expectation forces your loving Neteyam to retreat, replaced with a cool indifference that makes your heart sink.

It's not like before he claimed you. His eyes don't narrow into that challenging glare anymore. He doesn't prod you with sly insults, or watch your every move with distain. He simply goes about his business, a confident assurance that now he has you.

Sometimes, you wish for the malice. Then, at least, you'd be getting something.

His love slips through the perfected restraint occasionally. Like one day, when you were practicing a new technique with your bow. He happened to walk by, gaze instantly zeroing in on you. He came in close, murmuring a low hello, sevin (pretty) beside your ear, hand snaking around your middle from behind.

Your lips barely had time to pull into a soft smile before he retreated, the sight of a few clan members cutting through the trees enough to make him recoil. You frowned, turning to scold the odd behavior, but he was already gone.

And another day, you sat beside Kiri, weaving and talking quietly. He saw you through a gap in the vines, and quickly changed course to greet you. He approached carefully, a big grin splitting his face. He started to say something that sounded like ma narlor (beautiful). The moment his eyes glanced past his sister, his back straightened, expression dropping to one of casual familiarity.

It eats at you, a nasty, ugly feeling knotting your stomach. This dance has gone on for three weeks. In the last twenty-one days since he made you his, you've been pushed away, then pulled back in, a never-ending cycle of hurt and comfort.

You've started slipping into that old way of thinking, before the two of you crossed an imperceptible line. When you were calculated, when you decided you would get his attention one way or another, no matter what it took. No matter who you had to use.

That's what led you to the situation you're currently in.

You had to admit, though a tiny flame of guilt still flickered inside your chest, that you were having a blast.

Your face tilts toward the sky, a joyous laugh bubbling in your chest. One hand firmly grips the place where your queue is connected with your Ikran's, the other thrown up to feel strong wind blow through extended fingers. The animal swoops down at your internal command, narrowly missing the other, slightly smaller beast flying beside you.

“Hey!” A rough voice shouts, shakily leveling out.

Big yellow eyes narrow in your direction, irritation twinkling beneath the surface. He guides his own Ikran closer to yours, and she calls out before twisting in a graceful barrel roll above the clouds.

“Gotta be faster than that, Lo'ak!” The taunt floats over the wind as you speed past him, a boyish grin splitting his lips before he chases after you.

You play this game of cat and mouse until the sun's eclipse is nearly complete. Only then do you set course for home. Truthfully, when Lo'ak asked you to fly with him, you didn't intend on staying out so late. You didn't even want to agree at first, but the thought of doing something slightly risky, slightly forbidden made your heart flutter with excitement.

It was low, using the well-established competition between brothers to your advantage. But the thought of getting a rise out of Neteyam for the first time in weeks justified the potential consequences.

The second you land, he's barreling through the trees. His eyes find yours first, then Lo'ak's as his Ikran lands beside you. His brows are pinched, hands clenched into tight fists at his hips. Heat blazes behind his narrowed gaze, and you fight a smirk when it sweeps toward Lo'ak again.

“What do the two of you think you're doing?” He can barely get the words out through clenched teeth.

When he realized Lo'ak was missing, he began leisurely exploring the village. He figured his brother hadn't strayed far and was simply avoiding his duties around Home Tree. After several hours, though, anxiety clouded his mind, making him fear the worst. He went to find you, to confide his worries and maybe even convince you to help with search efforts.

But he couldn't find you either.

Your family was no help, they hadn't seen you since morning. He became slightly frantic, strides quickening to a jog as he looked in every nook and cranny of the village. There's no way, he tried to reassure himself, there's no way they're alone together.

He'd just called for his Ikran when he heard it. Heard the familiar call of your bonded animal—and his brother's. He all but sprinted toward the clearing, heart plummeting at the sight of you, head thrown back with a hearty laugh. Lo'ak's expression mirrored yours as he landed next, amused gaze locked on you.

“Aw, come on, bro.” He finally looks away from you, eyes rolling toward the sky with an annoyed huff.

“You were supposed to be back hours ago. I almost started a search party.” His glare slides back to you, the latter part of his sentence a pointed warning.

“It's not a big deal.” Lo'ak tries to assuage him, tone dismissive as he deftly jumps from his Ikran.

Your feet hit the ground with a soft thud, palms smoothing over thick skin to keep your animal calm. The muscles between Neteyam's shoulders bunch, heart thrumming wildly between his ribs.

“Get outta here Lo’ak, before I tell mom and dad.” His voice drops to a gravely rumble, anger clouding his vision. He can't believe you've actually done something like this. You really ran off with his brother of all people, doing Eywa knows what. The possibilities make his blood run cold.

“Dude!” Lo'ak's face scrunches with petulance, but he begrudgingly obeys at the sight of barely contained emotion in his brother's eyes. “At least let me get my—hey!”

Neteyam shoves against his shoulder lightly, urging him along. “Go. Now.”

The younger Sully throws his hands up in surrender, grumbling under his breath as he quickly disappears through thick foliage.

Your gaze, wide with uncertainty, meets molten yellow. Lips part to begin damage control, but all that comes out is a surprised yelp as his fingers clamp around one of your arms.

“Nete—” You stumble to keep up with his hurried pace as he turns and walks briskly toward Home Tree.

He ignores you entirely, dragging you through the village until he finds your shared tent. It's newly formed walls should provide enough privacy for him to deal with you, to figure out how far you've gone this time. With a gentle push you stagger through the door, woven flap slamming shut at your back.

He turns on you, narrowed eyes brimming with anger and something else. Something darker. It wells in his chest, the green flame of jealousy burning through his sternum painfully.

“How could you be so careless?” His chin drops, heated gaze pinning you in place.

“Mawey (calm), Neteyam. It’s fine. We were just having fun.” Your hands lift, palms barely brushing against his chest before he moves away as if you've cut him.

“You do not have fun with my brother.” The deep timbre of his voice sends a shockwave of desire between your legs.

You fidget slightly, rubbing your thighs together, and he misinterprets the motion as one of nervousness, of guilt.

“He is reckless. And a bad influence, clearly.” His jaw clenches so hard he fears he may crack a tooth.

“It was just a quick flight, ‘Teyam, I don’t see what—” You step toward him again, but stop short as he advances on you, one hand moving to cup the back of your neck.

A gasp fills the small space between you as he firmly tilts your head back, leering down at you hotly. “You not getting enough attention, yawne (beloved)? Is that it?”

Your heart soars, despite the fact that he's upset because of you. The hard edges you haven't seen for weeks have returned with a vengeance, that possessive glint in his eye you've been dying to see finally back in full force. It makes your core clench with anticipation.

It's not that you don't appreciate how careful he's been with you. It's sweet, loving, the way he appears almost afraid to hurt you in those intimate moments. But you crave more. You want every piece of him, this rougher side of him, as much as the rest.

You gulp down a course swallow, trembling with steadily rising emotion. “You've been cold, Nete. You act like we aren't even mates in front of the clan.”

It's a sore spot, a point of insecurity. Though he claimed you as his in the forest all those nights ago, he refuses to mate before Eywa. You've asked, and every time, he's dismissed you. You're trying to give him time, to wait until he's ready, but the rejection stings.

A rough breath falls from his lips, corded muscles loosening slightly. His shoulders drop, eyes pinching closed for a brief moment. Regret grips his heart when he looks at you again, seeing moisture gather along your lashes.

“Oh, baby girl. I'm sorry.” His hand slides away from your neck, instead winding around your back to pull you in close.

You curl against his chest, arms latching around his middle. His embrace brings you comfort, eases the ache a bit, but you still yearn for answers. Your head tilts away from his warmth, eyes searching his in question.

One of his large hands smooths down your hair, another sigh fanning your face. “I just—I don't know, sweetheart. I feel like if I touch you in front of them, I'm sharing something too intimate.”

You can understand it to a degree, you know he's reserved by nature. But what you don't get, what you can't accept for much longer, is his refusal to be fully yours in the eyes of the Great Mother.

“But why won't you mate with me?” You decide to ask outright, though your chest tightens with uncertainty, the words falling from trembling lips.

His expression sours, and he reluctantly tears his gaze away from yours. He tries to remove himself from you, but your arms only tighten around him.

“I don't deserve it.” When your brows pinch with confusion, he continues, fingertips ghosting your cheek. “All those years I spent ignoring you, being cruel to you...I can't, yawne (beloved). Not until I've earned it.”

“Oh, ‘Teyam...” You coo, heart shattering at his inner turmoil.

You had no idea he felt this way, was punishing himself in this way. Your hands frame his face, pulling it back up from where it'd fallen against his chest with guilt.

“I can see that I've already failed you.” He grumbles, lips pulling into a frown as he thinks back to all the ways he made you feel less than over the last few weeks.

He was caught up in his own idea of being a respectable mate. He thought if he gave you space, wasn't too overbearing in front of others, you'd be more comfortable. It was a big shift, going from adversaries to lovers. He figured you wouldn't want to flaunt your relationship with him, given the way he'd treated you for so long.

Apparently, he couldn't have been more wrong.

“I’m sorry, sevin (pretty).” He repeats, voice dropping to a low murmur. “Please, don't hate me.”

“I could never hate you, ‘Teyam.” You assure, lips ghosting over his in a chaste caress. “Even during those years...I've never hated you, yawnetu (love).”

His chest swells, feeling so unworthy, but so grateful for your unconditional love. He captures your lips in a passionate kiss, fingers threading into your braids gently. You sway with the force of his mouth on yours, humming contentedly against him.

He walks forward, until the backs of your knees hit the woven mat the two of you have spent many nights tangled on. With a gentle shove you break away from him, panting lightly as strong elbows catch your fall. Your breath hitches when he slowly kneels before you, heavy lidded eyes never leaving yours.

“Let me start making it up to you, narlor (beautiful).” He murmurs, peppering gentle, open mouthed kisses along your thigh.

Long fingers wrap around your knees, tenderly easing them apart. He settles between them, nostrils flaring at the sight of your covered core. Within seconds you're bare before him, glistening sex on full display for his waiting mouth.

He licks his lips, eyes catching yours again as he dives in, tongue lashing a languid stroke along your pussy lips. He mutters a quiet sorry with every tiny kitten lick, until you're shaking with the effort of remaining still and patient. He hums against you, fingertips prodding at your entrance.

“‘Teyam!” You instantly cry out, head dipping under the bloom of pleasure.

“That's it, baby. Make those pretty noises for me.”He pulls back, lips and chin glistening, eyes boring into yours intensely.

A broken moan fills the tent as he slides two fingers inside you effortlessly, soft walls fluttering around the intrusion. He pumps them slowly, tongue diving back in to circle your clit. You fall against the mat, arms trembling from holding yourself upright. His pace only quickens as he adds his third and final finger.

Your back arches from the bed, pleasured sighs filling the otherwise quiet room. He pulls his fingers almost entirely free before slamming them back into you, grunting at the way you spasm around the digits. You mewl, hips jerking up toward him as his mouth latches onto your clit again.

“‘Teyam! I—I...” The words dissolve into pitiful moans as your lower belly tightens.

“Atta girl, come on, cum for me.” He pulls back just long enough to groan the praise before he's back on you, lavishing your pussy with apologies.

Your body instantly obeys, orgasm ripping through you forcefully. You clench around his fingers, hips trembling as white hot pleasure causes you to shudder beneath him. Your chest heaves with ragged breaths as you come down from the high he'd given you. He mercifully abandons your clit, moving up to hover above you.

His fingers never leave you, pumping a steady pace as he quickly works you up to another release. He grins down at you warmly, free hand smoothing along your cheek.

“Catch your breath, baby girl. I have many years to make up for.”

[rainedragon]

What’s up with the black and white cat on old Emily temple cute ads ? Does he have a name?

Sorry, I realize this has been in my queue a while, but I had to go track down what I think this is in reference to because I couldn't remember which Kera it was in. So, in Kera 056 (May 2003), there is a ETC photoshoot. There are a few of these in Kera around this time, and it's pretty common around this time for Kera and the GLB to have themed photoshoots either all of one brand, or using multiple brands with a very light little story line to connect the photos. It's worth noting the vast majority of these stories are basically nonsense vaguely based on some theme or story. I have articles like this back in 80s and 90s fashion magazines as well, and it's just a way to do an interesting photoshoot that flows. This particular photoshoot is called "ETC Special Feature: Hanako-Chan and Kuro". I can't read it, but the rough gist from auto translate is that the cat is named Kuro, and he's magical, and the girl is home alone that day? (Kuro being the Japanese word for the color black because he's a black cat). Then we go into a sequence of story events that are essentially the eat me / drink me part of the story from Alice in Wonderland. She magically becomes to big for the house and might break it! Then she becomes so big cars are like toys!

Then she gets in trouble (for basically running around like godzilla?) and she gets made tiny and trapped in a bottle. Then she's sitting on a teacup and she's happy because she's tiny so she can eat as many doughnuts and as much eta as she wants (I assume they mean like, the food is so huge in comparison that it is a ton).

What if we trade bodies with Kuro? Look we totally changed! Meow that's fun, this is delicious... oh no mom and dad will be back soon. (and then it's assumed they switch back).

Generally speaking, these types of articles are really more about showing off the clothing and advertising than about writing the brand's lore, though it's not impossible. There have been some cases of brands talking about their mascots in magazine advertisements, but it's a lot more common for it just to be generic magazine-generated content.

There is a ~fancy~ little black cat that shows up in several prints around this time, but in the catalogs and item names they just use "cat print" or "stylish cat print" to describe those items / prints, and it doesn't seem to be the same character.

So, I guess in summary, the black and white cat's name is Kuro, but I don't know if he shows up anywhere else beyond this one photoshoot. But I probably posted this to tumblr broken apart because I didn't even register it was a story at first, which would have made it seem like he was everywhere. (Though, if any you know of other adds or photoshoots from ETC with this character, I'd be really interested in seeing them!)

[bitchlessdino]

chan- your personal knight/guard. been by your side since what feels like practically forever and has protected you against pretty much everything. You both are close but despite knowing him for so many years and being so close you realise you don’t actually know that much about him so on a walk maybe you’re just asking him random questions about him and learning more about him as a person. Somehow the conversations moved from something like his favourite colour to why he’s not settled down and without missing a beat he’s already answered because of you. Queue a love confession from your knight/guard that you reciprocate.

On a regular basis struggling with cheol and chan rot but today felt fluffy- idk i just think chan would be so sweet as your guard like him being super protective like ‘don’t pick that flower it might be poisonous let me check it’ and it’s like a dandelion or somet 😭

anyways just wanted to leave this with you and express how much I love your work!! I hope you have a good rest of your day or evening and genuinely thank you for taking the time to write on here, i truly appreciate the fact you take time out of your own day to read peoples requests and write whatever comes to mind <33

Pairing: royal!reader x bodyguard!chan

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3.1k

tags: royal au, overprotective chan, yearning, childhood au, love confessions, misunderstandings

author note: I forget how much fun fluff can be and I thought this concept was so cute also to the person requesting. I hope you like it. I love taking requests, including this one and i apprecate your kind words so much. we could all use your positivity. 💕

You remember when you first met Chan. He was the son of the Head of security that would tend to your father's every public and private safety. In a land ruled by a monarchy, these things were just necessary. You’ve been taught about the value you hold simply because of your bloodline and how you were the most precious there is, you must be protected and guarded at all costs. That’s where Chan came in.

He always claimed to be destined to take on a job much like his father, promising to protect you until the end of your days. That was a huge proclamation for an 8-year-old. He carried a wooden sword wherever he went and always had that big goofy smile on his face. It was his life goal to be strong and dependable like his father, and you believed he one day would.

That was the first and last time you saw him until he was officially appointed your personal bodyguard when he turned 18 years old. You were taking etiquette classes and studying scholarly journals of your country’s history, he trained day and night, mastering every possible martial art to exceed expectations as a protector. He was much different when he returned to you, and much stronger as well. He did not disappoint, but the light in his eyes as a child seemed to have faded, leaving a solemn shell of a man who lives to serve his master.

“Chan!”

He responds promptly. He stands by your side in an instant in proper attire, fit for both professional settings and in case he needs to be active, and meets your eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“Bake with me.”

He blinks, “Your Highness. Would you not rather have the chefs bake something for you if sweets are what you desire?”

You stare back at him pointedly, crossing your arms, “Are you talking back to me?”

His gaze perks up at the accusation, immediately shaking his head, “No, your high—“

You laugh, doubling over at his panicked expression. “Just kidding. I wanted us to bond! No better bonding than creating delectable pastries. No objections.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He was there whenever you needed him. He never told you ‘no’ and he always did what you told him to. All done with a stone face. He took his duty seriously. He was far from who he used to be, which was probably a given, it had been around a decade. That’s when you executed a plan of action to peel away those layers, hoping to find the cute boy that childishly wanted to blindly protect you. 

It was over time you saw progress, seeing him smile at every comment or the little mistakes you couldn’t help but make (you swear to him you’re normally more graceful than that) when he thinks you aren’t looking. You loved that: making him laugh. He has a beautiful smile. And the more you spent time with him, the more it feels he knows you, even bringing things you need without you even having to ask, but what was it you know about him?

“Chan.”

Right on the dot as always. “Yes, your highness.”

“Walk around the garden with me.” You take his hand before he can even answer and had him trodding beside you out of the palace.

“Please slow down, your highness.”

You practically dragged him, it was necessary given the Palace’s size.

“There is very little daylight left. We must make the most of our day. This is a royal order!” You playfully command.

“It is 3 pm, your highness!”

“Royal order!”

You walk side by side with him taking in the air, the freshly cut grass, and hearing the birds sing their sweet melody. Calling it a beautiful afternoon was an understatement. Even after living in the place you call home for so long, there is more that surprises you. “Doesn’t the sky look extra blue today, Chan?”

He softly grins. “It does, your highness.”

You turn your head, watching the smile slip out of view, “Speaking of which, what is your favorite color, Chan?”

He thinks for a moment. “Blue, actually, your highness.”

You offer him a wide grin. “That suits you very well. I’m glad I know that. How was it that you’ve protected me for so long and I never knew that?”

Chan is quiet at that, not sure how to answer.

“My favorite color is green, or was it purple?” You cross your arms in thought, a single finger tapping against your cheek, “Last week it was pink.”

“It should be yellow, your highness. You decided to wear the yellow two-piece today.”

You look down at your attire and confirm his statement, seeing the pretty outfit you properly picked out the day before with Chan. You twirl, watching how the sun reflects off the expensive fabric, “You’re right. Looks like you know me better than I know myself again, but of course.”

His eyes fill with concern. “Does that make you uncomfortable, your highness?”

“No. Not necessarily. It just feels very one-sided. You know so much about me, but I feel like I know so little about you.” You skip ahead of him and you hear his footsteps catching up.

“I apologize, your highness. I never believed it was necessary information.”

“Of course, it is. How am I supposed to trust you if I know nothing about you?” You pointed out nonchalantly.

“I apologize again, your highness. This was careless of me.”

You turn around and let him stand beside him and push him ahead, “Nevermind that. What’s your favorite food?”

He stumbles slightly but does not let the matter phase him, used to you treating him much like a companion rather than the help, “Barbeque.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Otters.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

“Least favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah ha–oh.” You tilt your head. “Nothing? Seriously?”

“There is nothing to dislike, your highness, and even if there was, I could not speak out on it. However, there isn’t.”

You blink back at him dubiously, an aggressive finger pointing at his chest, “Are you lying, Chan?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

He would have no reason to lie, you thought. And like he said, if he did, he much rather not answer. You stare at him for a little longer, scanning his frame before simply shrugging and continuing your leisure stroll.

“Hmm, alright. Favorite genre of music?”

“...girl group pop.”

Your eyes widen at that, smiling from ear to ear. “No way! Which group?”

The tips of his ears cause a hue of red, spreading all across his cheeks in an instant. “Apink…”

“Ooo, how refreshing. I would’ve never guessed.”

Chan was relieved to hear such a positive and encouraging response, feeling his hairs falter just a little bit, quite enjoying your company. “It’s very encouraging when I train. They lift my spirits.”

You chortle. “That’s quite endearing of you, Chan. I feel like I’m knowing you way better already.”

“That’s a relief, your highness.”

“What else do you like to do in your free time? You spend most of the day with me, even tend to events with me, but I have no idea what you do for fun?”

He was drawing a blank. What did he do worth mentioning? “Mmm, lots of activities. Such as…”

“Such as?” You egg on.

“Such as–-horseback riding, jousting, martial arts–”

You wave the list off. “Save the pleasantries. I mean real hobbies, ones not instilled by the palace. Things that are actually fun.”

“They are fun, you highness…But I guess I do like dancing.”

You perk up once more, strutting backward to talk while facing him, “Dancing? How lovely! You must show me how you move. This instant!”

He grows flustered, knowing they were still very close to the other guards and staff in the palace. He wasn’t sure he felt about showing off his moves this publicly. “Another time, your highness. I feel rather shy at the moment.”

“Oh, but you must, you must! What do you do? Ballroom? Contemporary? Interpretive–Wha!” You feel yourself trip over a rock, falling backward in slow motion, shutting your eyes for impact, until a strong pair of arms prevent you from collapsing.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Feeling him pull you against his chest, you stare back into the eyes of your savior. His genuine fright and concern peek through his gaze and he grips your build extra firmly. He instinctively frowns, lips quivering anxiously, sweeping your stray hairs away from your face. You naturally melt in his embrace.

You nod, sighing a breath of relief. “I am fine, Chan. Thank you.”

“Who knows what you could’ve landed on.” His gaze scans over the bed of flowers behind you, vibrant and vivacious, “they could be poisonous for all we know.”

You allow yourself to land back on your feet, turning your gaze on the same bed of flowers. “Those are dandelions.”

Chan feels redder than a tomato in August. How is he constantly embarrassing himself, he thought to himself. “Oh. Well, better safe than sorry. Your Highness.”

You chuckle, infatuated by his thought process. “You truly are something, Lee Chan. Your significant other does not have a boring life with you around.”

“I don’t have a significant other, your highness.” 

“That's strange. I’d say you’re at the age to be married or betrothed. Why aren’t you?” You mention, decidedly walking side by side with him.

“Why, my work is the most important thing in my life. I do not have the time to commit myself to someone other than the royal family.”

You raise a brow, “Your father was married and had two kids by your age. If he could do it, I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Now, you’re sounding like my mother,” he jokes.

“She is a wise woman.”

He splays a bittersweet smile. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been given a few opportunities, but I don’t believe they can take the place of the person I hold in my heart. No one will.”

You clap your hands together in excitement. “So you are interested in dating? Tell, good sir. Who is the lucky lad or lass?”

“Someone far worthy than I’ll ever be and deserves more than what I can give them.”

You slightly shove him, finding such an assumption doubtful. “Oh please. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re handsome…anyone would absolutely be ecstatic to have you.”

Chan felt warm all over, taking your words into careful consideration, “Do you truly mean that, your highness?”

“Are you doubting a royal?” You chuckle, “I do. Tell them. I am sure they would happily return your feelings.”

He halts his steps, and you quickly follow, curious about his abrupt actions, “...You ask me why I am still unwedded and untaken. How would you feel if I said you were the reason?”

“No excuses. You can’t use work as an excuse for your lack of love life.” You wag a finger at him.

“Not like that,” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up in mid-air, thumbing over the pristine skin of your knuckles, “How would you feel if I admitted the person I hold dearest to my heart is you, your Highness?”

A gust of wind takes you by surprise, the fallen flowers and leave being picked up with it and fall around you like a picture-esque scene in a movie. Your heart pounds a million times a minute, staring back in awe at his presence, overflowing with love and sincerity, and your eyes flutter from the breathlessness you feel in your chest and throat. You stare at Chan like the first time you were reunited with him, with pure unadulterated infatuation.

“Me, you say? Well, I’d say I was surprised, flabbergasted,…flattered.”

You feel the heat of your cheeks from the back of your free hand. “And inexplicably flustered.”

You release your hand from his grasp, the lingering sensation of his hand on your skin causing you to clench and release, and your heart easily audibly through your eardrums. You look towards the ground, finding it hard to meet your guard’s eyes. “Your choice of humor is rather brass.”

“Your highness–”

“It’s supper time. I must get going. I will see you back at the palace, Chan.”

You make your grand escape, clutching your frills, shielding your face from others in the palace with your arm before heading u to your room. You collapse against the bed, clutching your burning face in a silk pillow, yelling muffled songs of your fluster, reimagining the majestic look on his face when he confessed his feelings. Deep down you knew there was truth in his words, but how could you normally react to something so abrupt from someone so…admirable.

You embrace your pillow, push down your swelling heart, and smile. Tears of bliss fall to your cheeks and you can’t help but kick your feet like an excited schoolgirl.

You find yourself making glances at Chan when you reunite at the dinner. As usual, he does not have dinner with you but he stays by you for your own protection and eats afterward once you’ve finished. He’d look as solemn as he always did in front of other people. He took his job almost too seriously, sometimes even tasting your meal with a separate spoon in case it was poisoned. You used to laugh at his old-fashioned methods of work, there was technology for that sort of thing now, but you finally understand his devotion to his service. There more to meet the eyes, you realize.

When he follows you all the way up to your room for a night's rest, you part ways. You squirm in his presence, his confession fresh in your mind. “Good night, Chan.”

You are ready to run from him until he calls out to you, hesitancy in his voice. You meet his apologetic gaze, regretful of their last close encounter. He wishes you would not see him any differently, that he was simply a lowly guard and protector to you. His feelings towards you would not have changed regardless of your reaction. He knew his place and that was by your side as a human shield.

“Please take no more than a single thought at my confession today. Do not let it diminish my utmost respect and loyalty to the royal family. Have a good slumber, your highness.”

He retreats to his quarters conveniently not too far from your chambers, standing by the door, he gestures for you to enter your room and you obliged, watching his figure disappear behind your door. You fear that the air had changed between you, and perhaps not for the better. Your sleep would be anything but peaceful that night.

“Your highness, Good morning.”

He stands tall and firm with a smile as wide as a river. He holds beside him a fairly large trunk, gripping it by the handle.

You peer at his figure in worry, and earnest fear. “What is this, Chan?”

“I’ve decided to leave the palace forever. I realize my life was being wasted away taking care of someone who could never love me as much as I love them. So, I’ve taken on a lover of the same status.”

As if by magic a common lady appears, taking him by the arm and nuzzling his nose. They look in love, happy, and a sharp pain would shoot through your heart.

“No.” You chant.

“You will never see my face again. Goodbye. Your Highness.”

“Chan, no.”

The image of their silhouette gets smaller and smaller as they walk further away. You fall to your knees in desperation. “Chan please!”

You sob in your sleeves, hands reaching out to their shirking figures until you can only hear the echoes of your pleas.

“CHAN!”

You sit up from your bed, perspiration dampening your forehead and you are flushed to the touch. Clutching your sheets, you sigh a breath of relief that was only a dream. Soon after, your doors swing open, and a panicked guard in his baby blue nighttime attire runs to claim you, “Your Highness. I’m here. I’m here.”

His strong arms wrap tightly around your frame, soothing strokes to your hair, whispering to you it’d be okay. Your hands instinctively hold on to the fabric of his clothes, squeezing the flesh underneath, drinking in his soap’s scent and noticing how pleasant and just to your taste it was. “I know.”

He pulls you away to stare back at you, scanning you for any signs of danger placed upon you.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, “just a bad nightmare.”

“What foul image betrays you to cause such a reaction? I was ready to spar with whatever evil demon tried kidnapping you.”

He must’ve been still asleep, you assume. His colorful vocabulary, wakes you up delightfully.

“I am fine. I promise. Come, I’ll walk you to the door.”

You push him out of bed, meeting the exit, while your guard’s doubts seep out of him like a fountain. 

“Are you sure? Was it truly just a nightmare? Do you need new sheets? A snack to soothe you?”

“Not at all, all good, my good sir. Good night.”

You attempt to push him out completely but he holds you back from doing so, gripping the rims of the bedroom door. “I just want to assure you’re okay, your highness.”

You fall a little deep into those eyes, perceiving the truth of his word in them. It drove you insane how a simple confession could affect you this much. You brighten up your world, open your eyes, and made you feel alive, just like a person in love does. “I am. Just…don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are.”

He gives a confused smile, his gaze softening the same way your tone does. “But your highness, you were just pushing me away a few seconds ago—“

You tug against his shirt and your lips for the first time make contact, his plush surface meeting yours seamlessly. Your hands clasp over his cheeks and neck, languidly moving them against him. You slowly process how he reciprocates, holding you to his chest tenderly, savoring your warmth, taste, and how it all excited him. The thin fabric between your body was the only thing to stop you, and the world around you simply disappeared. 

Before you both knew it, you were pulling him back into the bedroom. He’d quickly follow, doesn’t leave until the following morning, carrying out what he only imagined in his dreams, even if it was only for the night. It was the matter of his duty to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he knew he could make you happy.

[http-drabbles]

soulmate, soulmate where are you? 2

1.3k words of absolute crushing angst, it's 7am and i woke up to write. shall i be evil and let this be the final part? mayhaps.

warnings: s/h and making jungkook sad (:W)

fuck fuck fuck.

skimming every question and typing out my answer feels a lot like betrayal. name, age, country of residence, when my soulmate mark appeared, contact details, translator needed, agreeing to a declaration that if my soulmate mark was found to be fraudulent i could face a fine or jail time. i tick the box by his name, attach a photo of my mark and send the form off. the confirmation email is too cheery it makes my jaw ache at how i grind my teeth.

i don't want to talk about the circumstances that lead me to fill out that form, to apply for a loan that covers travel cost and a hotel for this. the woman who helped me fill out the form was again all too cheery, wishing me a good luck and all i could do was smile so fucking limply back at her while noticing lipstick smudged against her teeth.

a month passes and i'm gleeful, maybe it's a network error and my form never submitted. i'm free and can tell the loan company to cancel my plan, i don't go on social media to see what jungkook is up to and in those weeks the nightmare is over and i embrace my loneliness.

the email arrives at 16:21. heathrow to seoul, a contact at hybe will meet me at the airport. id needed. date of when i'm expected to actually meet jungkook, with a disclaimer that it may change due to fluctuating schedule. the tiger lily tingles, and i almost see the petals opening ready to accept him.

"don't get your hopes up, i can always email them back to get out of this."

i don't. of course i don't because i'm standing in a Costa in London Fucking Heathrow next to the hybe contact who is analysing their croissants like it's the key to end all misery. i wished i could look at croissants with that much intensity.

she asked once to see my soulmate mark, gave it a one second glance over and then typed something down in her phone, i wondered how many people she's flown with to Korea. more than ten i would bet. i don't ask, i'm not conversational but when we're waiting in the queue holding out boarding passes i blurt to her.

"i haven't flown before. i've got a fear of it i think."

she passes me a sleeping tablet and i bump her number from ten to a solid fifteen.

korea is pretty, face practically smushed against the taxi window i take in every single detail i can. there's an over-abundance of signs, low hanging wires and roads so tiny it's a miracle a car can pass through them. i don't take photos, i rely on my brain to remember and then forget.

hybe is anything but pretty, more like a grey lump of concrete and glass. i sign two more documents and the translator informs me that in two days time i will be meeting jungkook, but not officially meeting. more like my arm will be stuck through a gap and our soulmate marks will touch, i will have to wear a mitt because some people had become a little too excited and scratchy. my mark is thoroughly inspected this time, deemed official and not a tattoo i'm driven over to my hotel.

i don't unpack, staring at the forms in my hand which are a mix of korean and english i almost laugh. traitor. stupid traitor.

over the next two days i come to two big conclusions, one kimchi is too sour but the rice cakes should be considered a universal delicacy and two, is it too late to back out?

is it too late to back out? i'm in the taxi, i consider clawing the windows for escape but i decide that digging my fingers into my belly helps ease my nerves. can i back out? hybe is cold, the ac is too strong and there's other girls in the room i'm lead into. shy smiles as i plop myself in the back. we are called alphabetically. is it possible to back out? there's four of us left now, i didn't bother counting us as a whole. i can't stop digging my nails into my stomach.

i can't back out. my name is called and somehow my body removes the hand from my belly and i walk myself over to the room. there's a row of grey screen partitions that divide the room, a small slither in the middle presumably where my arm will go. it hits me jungkook is on the other side and i bite my bottom lip hard to avoid laughing. tugging my sleeve up a staff member puts the mitt on securely, another verbal warning to not do anything harmful to the artist.

artist and not his name.

i sit down on the chair, staring into that small space to catch a sight of him but there's nothing. i don't mind a fine, or jail time. i hope it's not real. deliberately slowly i raise my arm, putting it through the gap with my tiger lily facing upwards. the air shifts around my arm and i feel him. warm as his tiger lily presses against mine.

at first nothing, and i almost let out the loudest sigh of relief and then it is everything. in the mitt my fingers jerk, i pull away like i've been electrocuted clutching my arm but it's energy, pure energy. thrum. drum. drum.

he's tearing the partitions apart and i stagger back, nearly falling over the chair to get away from him. frantic korean, something more reassuring from a staff member and then he pokes his head through. beaming smile, he's so happy to see me and i guess i'm somewhere between absolutely mortified and in complete shock. his sleeve is rolled up and i notice his tiger lily has fully blossomed, a quick glance down at mine and i realise mine is the same.

he speaks again, approaching me like he wants to hug me but seeing that i'm backing away like a rabid animal he slows, contains himself and glances at the translator and back at me.

"hello. i'm jungkook. it's nice to meet you finally." oh god. too much. he's too kind and his cologne has infiltrated my nostrils and i'm so glad the mitt is still on because i'd be clawing at my nose to stop smelling it.

"s-sorry.. can't." i give the staff member who brought me in here the universal look of, 'get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here-now.' i am ignored.

"sorry?" he tilts his head in pure confusion, he looks worried. i hate him for it. "don't be sorry. it's okay. i'm happy."

i glance around the room and notice i'm being recorded, i don't know what sets me off more. he's too close, the camera, him, why is he so close? he touches my shoulder to comfort me and i jerk away, i can't stop looking at the camera and the other staff members who are beaming at us.

"i'm sorry," my eyes lock with his, "i don't want you." he doesn't understand and i glance at the translator.

she looks sad and very softly tells him what i've said, he doesn't seem to believe her because he presses his fingers against the tiger lily and shakes his head.

"us. this is us." he's struggling to speak himself and i can see him remembering. he's really looking at my arm now, clearer. the burns, the cuts. all the times i've tried to prune that cancerous flower from my arm. almost physically wounded he takes a step back.

"i'm sorry, i don't want this." the translator repeats my words and all he does is nod.

he nods and i leave.

[churipu]

rules !

( 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖 )

I.) basic dni criteria , do not go into my ask to excessively hate on me or my writings ★ my blog is a sfw blog, so please refrain from requesting anything related to nsfw or 18+ topics.

II.) (feel free to block me and do not interact with me if you support isr@el) // you like reading and writing shit like incest, stepcest, p links post (especially with minor characters) — in other words, i'm telling you to go seek help. ty.

[ ✓ ] i write my requests based on who requested first, so if yours is taking long, just know that i'm not ignoring nor deleting your request (sometimes i accidentally put your requests on the queue list — and i don't know how to edit it, so your request will still be posted in the form of a screenshot! sorry) -> update: i finally know how :D !

[ ✓ ] if your request hasn't been posted for a long time, I apologize but it probably means that i'm not going to write it. but for specific reasons, either i didn't know the prompt you're referring to or i just didn't know how to write the prompt. i'm sorry :(

III.) my works are completely sfw, suggestive at most. they are appropriate for people 16+.

( 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 )

I.) i absolutely hate blocking people, but i'm setting boundaries to my blog and i as a person, so please respect that.

blocked ! i will not hesitate to block the accounts who are as the following criteria:

[ ✓ ] if you make and post porn links, HARD BLOCK. idk why they're even a thing, no offense lol. i don't mind if you write / reblog nsfw works (as long as they don't contain illegal things) bcs that's up to you really, but porn links are different and they're a big ick.

[ ✓ ] blank blogs. blank blogs. blank blogs. at least put your age, please. convince me that you are not a bot.

[ ✓ ] if you're here to hate on my writing — especially when you decide to hide behind the anon feature to do so. i mean, if you have anything to say to me, the least you could do is to have the balls to say it directly to me without hiding behind the anon feature, thankies <33

[ ✓ ] incest/step-cest, that shit is weird as hell. don't even try lol, i'm not even asking anymore atp, i'm implying for you to go get help if you write + read those.

[ ✓ ] i hope you know the difference between constructive criticism and straight on hating. i appreciate constructive criticism of my writing and how i can grow my blog — but i do wish you won't straight up blow hate on me and hide behind "constructive criticism", because honestly, that's just embarrassing :(

[ ✓ ] plagiarism. plagiarism. plagiarism. pretty self-explanatory. just no.

( 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃 )

I.) my first language is not english, i apologize for any grammar mistakes or typos! do tell me if you see any mistakes so i can immediately correct it, thank you.

II.) my blog and i am pro palestine. i reblog support to palestine a lot, block me immediately if you support isr@el in any kind of form and way ! thank you very much.

III.) i do not want to write smut for this blog, so please do not send in requests that contain smut for any characters in any kind of way. i'm honestly fine with a little suggestiveness, but full on smut is just a big no to me as of now (bcs i can't write them lmao), sorry :((

IV.) i try to keep the reader in my fics gender neutral, but if they're not, the gender of the reader will be said at the top.

V.) i don't have an updating schedule, i try to update at least once after a day. i'm currently in my fourth semester of uni, and things are currently a little hectic — but i'm trying to fit in updating daily into my schedule, so please refrain from rushing me to update. thank you!

VI.) DO NOT spam like please. tumblr will probably think that my account is a bot and possibly put me in the shadow realm :/ likes + reblogs are very appreciated, thank you :(

VII.) hate anons / cowards who hide behind the anon feature will be deleted (or posted) none in between lmao

VIII.) mutuals that want to cut contact with me -> keep in mind to HARD BLOCK my account, don't soft block me or unfollow me and just leave it at that. HARD BLOCK ME.

[ ✓ ] keep in mind that if i hard block any of you to cut the mutual line, do not try to reach me out from another account because you'll be blocked in that account as well.

[ ✓ ] i don't block people without a reason — if i block you, there must have been a reason to WHY i did that. that's your part to find out why though, because i don't want anything else to do with you.

[ ✓ ] please do not associate me with people i used to follow / supported before or were mutuals before, i associate with people i follow NOW. thank you :)

[ ✓ ] if you think i've blocked you but you don't post any contents included in my blocklist or you don't fit in those criteria, please try to reach out through another account and i will apologize sincerely for my mistake + unblock your other account.

( 𝐃𝐌𝐬 )

I.) if you have a problem with me, i appreciate if you reach out to me through my dms :)

II.) i am open to talk about anything as long as you're respectful, but please don't interact with me if you are under the age of 16.

( 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐘 )

I.) i hope you enjoy my writings, do tell me and educate me nicely if i do anything wrong! thank you.

[ ✓ ] i do appreciate it if you tell me about problematic blogs whose works i have reblogged or am currently associated with too, i don't really keep up with a lot of things and tend to follow up really late and i would usually find out WHEN things appear in my dashboard. if my ask box is closed, please reach out to me through my dms ! thanks !

© CHURIPU 2024 . hope you follow my rules before interacting !

finished reading? you can now proceed to my masterlist !

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 29 (Breathplay)

Kink: Breath Play

Pairing: Male!Octomerman x Male!Reader

Other kinks: Choking, Gagging, Tentacles

Warnings: Non consensual, Implied kidnapping, Mind Break

Word Count: 1057 words

Kinktober Masterlist

A/N: In the true spirt of halloween I got too drunk last night and forgot to queue this piece up. But can y'all believe were almost done with Oct/Kinktober?!! I'm gonna miss it (´；Д；`) But I still have 2 more days of smut just for y'all! Have fun~

“Aww, does that feel good?”

Muffled moans echoe across cavern walls, broadcasting shame and ecstasy down to the underwater entrance. At least it could act as a warning, tell others that no matter how tempting those pearls and jewels look, stay away.

If you couldn’t help yourself, you could at least help others.

“Oh, I guess thats as close to as a ‘yes’ I’ll get.” A long, purple nail trrails down the side of your cheek, opal eyes admiring the bulge his tentacle makes shoved down your throat. “Considering your mouth is otherwise…” Mortimer giggles, laughing at his own stupid joke, “...preoccupied.”

You wish you could bite down, sink your teeth into this gummy flesh and make him bleed. But the tentacles so big, so deep down your mouth that you can barely move your jaw. It doesn’t help that you have another shoved up your ass and another stroking your cock, thoroughly twisting your thoughts and inebriating your brain. Tears run tracks down the side of your face and it takes all you can to just focus your eyes, nerves alight with treacherous pleasure.

“But I do like that voice of yours.” Mortimer taps his chin, a thoughtful pout on his face. “Hmm, decisions, decisions.” He twists a lock of his hair between his fingers, coiling the white curls as he ponders. Then he snaps his fingers.

“Ooh, I know!”

The tentacle slithers out of your mouth and it takes everything you have to not gag around it, instead scrambling to get a full breath. But that tentacle doesn’t move far, coiling around your neck, though not constricting as you think.

Your throat bobs agaisnt the slick muscle and you can see Mortimer shutter, his tentacles shaking as he watches your chest heave.

“Yes, yes, I think this will be perfect.”

Before you can mutter a “fuck you” the tentacle in your ass starts moving at a brutal pace. You squeak, biting down hard on your lip as the tentacle around your cock squeezes hard, circling your glands and sending shockwaves up your abdomen. After what must be hours of teasing back and forth, your body accepts the pleasure no problem, despite how your conscious protests.

Mortimer continues to watch, a smug grin on his face, the kind that should have a pit forming in your stomach. But the slow climb of your orgasm has you preoccupied, hips jerking into the smooth touch of the tentatcles, trying to chase it down. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that when you come, this’ll be over. That you’ll wake up from this sex nightmare and be done with this.

Almost, almost-

The tentacle around your neck constricts, a shock across your sense. Your sure your eyes bulge out of their sockets, taken aback by the sudden lack of oxygen. They wander to Mortimer, who has a wicked smile on his face.

I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.

There are spots across your vision, blood rushing to your face, but the pleasure doesn't go away. No, if anything you’re more aware of the tentacle pressing against your prostate, or the other massaging your balls. It feels…good?

Your noose relaxes, delicious oxygen flowing back to your brain as you gasp, trying to process what just happens.

You were so close!

“My my, now that is a pretty face.” Mortimer’s manicured hands cup your jaw, thumb running across the apple of your cheeks. “I think it might be my favorite of yours, dearie.” Mortimer licks his lips, eyes darting down to your bobbing throat, still encircled by his tentacle.

All you can do is whine, tentacle back to brutalizing your insides while the other plays with your slit. That ascent is almost there again, tightening the coil in your belly.

Mortimer must see it, because his smile grows wide and that tentacle constricts once more. Even prepared your brain still sets into a panic, nervous signals shooting down your body. They tingle, setting your skin buzzing, tightening that coil. It's almost like when your leg goes numb and you try to flex your feelings back into it. It hurts, sort of, but it’s a good sort of pain.

Please, please.

You whine, producing a keening sound from your chest. You’re so fucking close.

The tentacle relaxes. As oxygen rushes into your mouth, so does disappointment.

Damn it, what is happening?

“Isn’t this nice?’ Mortimer laughs, admiring your delirious face. “To just relax, let someone else take the lead once in a while?” Mortimer sits up, propping himself on some tentacles so you’re face to face, noses almost touching. “One squeeze and I decide if you breathe or not. So much easier than putting that silly, unconscious mind behind it.”

Your voice chokes in your throat. A million hateful thoughts brew on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t even imagine what they might sound like. All you want is closure, to finally hit that high and ride it out.

Please.

“What was that?” Mortimer taunts, leaning in for good measure.

“Ple-” You cough, throat desert dry, almost fighting to produce any noise. “Please.”

“Please what?”

No objections come to your mind, no thought of dignity or pride.

“Please, choke me.”

Mortimer’s joy is palpable, crawling up his face, shining in his jewel-like eyes. He steals a sloppy, passionate kiss, pulling away with saliva dripping down his jaw.

“Okay.”

He winks, the last clear slight before the tentacle constricts once more. The corner of your vision fades into black and you feel your face grow hot with blood. But none of it matters, because it feels so good.

Your body unconsciously chokes and gasps, fighting for air. Your cock twitches in his tentacles, your asshole clenching around the offending muscle. Your skull feels stuffed with cotton, your stomach dropping as you finally near climax, finally tasting salvation.

“Aah!” You pant out, hips spasming as your cock spurts out jets of cum, decorating Mortimers tentacles.

It's with your sweet release that oxygen rushes back to your brain, the tentacle uncompelling from your neck and sliding down your chest, petting you like a prized animal.

Your head lolls forward, unconsciousness brimming in the base of your skull. It may be the oxygen deprivation, it may be the overstimulation, you don’t care. You’re tired.

A calloused palm caresses your cheek.

“Yes, what a pretty face indeed.”

[jaethecreator]

Aahh I was wondering if you could maybe write binnies reaction to Jisung buying him the skirts he had been eyeing for awhile, playfully ushering binnie off to try them on. ! <3

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH okay first request here we go, be prepared !! i hope you like it <3

Stray Skirts by @jaethecreator wc: 3.1k

Tags: BinSung, Cross-dressing, Skirts, Thigh Highs, Top Han Jisung, Bottom Seo Changbin, Fluff, Smut, College Student Han Jisung, Producer Seo Changbin, Slight Confidence Issues, Praise, Body Worship, BJ, Jisung is horny and Changbin suffers (in a good way).

If you looked at Seo Changbin from the outside, you’d have multiple thoughts. One: he can look quite intimidating. Many colleagues found the producer quite hard to approach. However, those close to him knew him as a mood-maker and the victim of many giggle-fits. Two: he was big. Large arms hugged by the cuffs of his shirt sleeves, and an even larger chest actively trying to escape said shirt. Three: his wardrobe was darker than most. The clothes Changbin tended to wear ranged from mostly ebony to cool black. No one but his boyfriend knew the plethora of colors hidden in his closet...

If you looked at Han Jisung from the outside, your thoughts would vary. One: he looked like a bit of a nerd. Large glasses with a sheepish smile were his go-to. Two: he’s quiet. The only time he wasn’t quiet was with close friends or his boyfriend. When he was comfortable, however, Jisung could be just as loud as any extrovert. Three: people assume he can’t be the top when standing beside his boyfriend. Behind closed doors though, the number of times he’d left Changbin pleased as punch with cum leaking from his hole was countless.

Initial thoughts aside, no one could guess from looking at the two in public that Changbin liked to cross-dress. Specifically, he loved to wear skirts. Feeling so free and pretty appealed to him more than he’d like to admit. When he’d first confessed it to Jisung, he was shy. The apples of his cheeks and the shells of his ears were pink, even as Jisung carded his fingers through Changbin’s curly hair and assured him nothing was wrong with what he loved. After learning the fact, he enthusiastically bought his boyfriend a skirt with hearts in his eyes the next day. Changbin found it hard to truly ask for things, always eager to please and satisfy—but there was nothing more that Jisung wanted to do than treat his boyfriend with whatever he wanted.

But Jisung didn’t just stop at one skirt.

Much to his wallet’s display (queue crickets chirping and cobwebs inside), Changbin was gifted skirts every two weeks. He still hadn’t built up the confidence to go shopping for them in person yet, so Jisung took to learning his sizing himself and surprising him every few weeks. Thankfully, an "accidental" discovery made his purchasing easier this week.

Changbin had left after having dinner with Jisung in their apartment to make his way to the studio he worked at, where he'd presumably be working on music till late at night. Unfortunately for Changbin, he had left behind his work laptop. Feeling stressed (even though it wasn’t him who left the computer), Jisung noticed and immediately grabbed the charging cord to unplug it. However, the unplugging of the laptop had woken the screen, and Jisung’s curiosity got the best of him.

The tab that had caught his interest was a site called Stray Skirts.

Jisung glanced side to side as if somehow Changbin was watching him (he wasn’t, obviously). He tilted his head as his eyes scanned the clothing website's page. After they settled on the wish-list icon at the top right, Jisung licked his lips determinedly and clicked once more. A screen filled with beautiful skirts opened, each selectively hearted by his adoring boyfriend. A soft coo left his lips, knowing Changbin would have looked drop-dead gorgeous in every single one. Truly, Jisung had never seen something not look perfect on Changbin—like it wasn’t made for him to wear.

Quickly choosing, Jisung added the top 3 skirts from Changbin’s wish list to the shopping cart. The first was a black faux leather miniskirt. The second skirt was a gorgeous mesh black floral print, much longer than the first one he’d seen. Lastly, the third and final skirt was Jisung’s favorite— a cream lace miniskirt that would pair beautifully with any piece in his boyfriend’s closet. He could already feel his heart fluttering just imagining Changbin opening his gifts and looking so pretty in his skirts, soft thighs spreading underneath them as he sat down. The way the leather of the first skirt would hug the front of his tummy and the curves of his ass, highlighting two of Jisung’s favorite parts of Changbin’s body. Warmth rose to his cheeks, while also sinking elsewhere.

"Get it together, Jisung..." He mumbled to himself.

Trying to calm his excitement, Jisung shook his head like a snow globe and began to put in his card information to make the purchase. He knew using the same account already logged in could risk Changbin finding out about the surprise, but Jisung couldn’t ignore that his boyfriend had reward points available to be used at checkout. Being a college student was tough, so if he could save money while pampering his boyfriend—Jisung was all up for it. After purchasing, he set up the tracking to be sent to his phone and email instead of Changbin’s.

Once he finished paying and knew he’d left no way for his boyfriend to discover the surprise, Jisung triumphantly puffed his chest and placed his hands on his hips—feeling proud of himself. However, this didn’t last long. The second he’d exhaled he felt his posture deflating, as he realized now he’d need to see his boyfriend in person and would have to keep the surprise a secret. Part of him started to feel a little guilty for taking so long to bring his boyfriend’s laptop, but surely he could forgive him in the name of love and romance.

Speaking of his boyfriend, it seemed he’d realized he’d left his work laptop at home by the vibration in his pocket. Changbin was calling Jisung’s phone asking him to bring it probably, so he put the computer away in its bag. Once he answered the phone, Jisung was greeted by Changbin’s sweet voice.

“Yeobo… I think I left my laptop on the coffee table. Can you bring it, please?”

“Jagi, please. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?”

“Not mine! My boyfriend would run 100 miles if I asked!”

“I would! You’d have to carry me back though, I don’t think my legs could take all that cardio..”

“Mine neither, but that’s beside the point! Be careful on your way, Jisungie—I love you!”

“Love you too hyung!”

If you saw Jisung’s face, you could tell his smile was warm and genuine. His eyes and lips shared the same expression, swelling with happiness and love after talking with Changbin on the phone. He couldn’t wait to see his boyfriend, even if he’d only been gone for an extremely short time. Was it possible to be just as excited about the gift as Changbin would be once he received it?

————————3 days later————————

The day the skirts arrived was perfect. Jisung’s classes were canceled because of an incident on campus, and Changbin had decided to work on some song lyrics at home. This meant the couple could be lazy together, basking in each other’s warmth and presence. There was nothing more that Changbin wanted to do than spend the day snuggled against his boyfriend.

Changbin had left Jisung’s koala grab to shower, returning from their bathroom with only a towel wrapped low around his waist. Wet messy curls rested perfectly on his head, looking more delicious than he did going in. Jisung couldn’t help but ogle at his boyfriend’s body, causing the other to smirk and flex his arms. However, Changbin's arms weren’t the first parts Jisung's eyes had landed on.

The swell of his chest came first. Jisung's eyes darted from the top of Changbin's hair to the pair of tits that stared straight at him. He knew the socially acceptable term for them was pecs, but the way the soft flesh often filled the cups of Jisung's hands said otherwise. As he watched Changbin, he couldn’t help but wet his lips. It was easy for Jisung to imagine his teeth taking each nipple into his mouth, giving both buds equal pleasure as he elicited the prettiest of whimpers from his beautiful boyfriend.

God, Jisung was puddy..

After his eyes had their way with Changbin’s plush chest, Jisung's eyes trailed down to the pudge at his waist. Jisung had lovingly marked the skin there plenty of times before and Changbin never tired from the attention. He found the softness of the other’s torso delectable, always trailing his lips and fingers over what he could. Jisung would take the flesh of Changbin’s tummy between his teeth, nipping with his nose pressed into his skin, hands resting on both sides of his waist. He'd hold his beautiful Binnie there, indulging in the little belly that had formed from never saying no to what indulged him.

He’d have continued surveying the sight before him, but at some point, he'd realized Changbin was trying to get his attention by calling his name.

“Baby?”

“Baby..?”

“Sungie...?”

“Sung-ah!”

“Jisung-ah!”

“Han Jisung!”

“Yah, are you even listening to me?! Hello?!”

Jisung was startled as he blinked, realizing he’d zoned out into his own Changbin fantasies when said fantasy was standing there. His eyes immediately looked up, watching as the other stepped closer towards him. Jisung’s hands moved to rest on Changbin’s hips. He held him there, giving him all his attention—his breath waiting on whatever word Changbin would say next.

The older had wanted Jisung to pay attention, but his eyes looked up at him like he was the stars in the sky. He couldn’t help but blush, feeling shyer by the minute.

“Wah.. what’s this atmosphere now? Do you feel bad for not answering?”

Changbin teased him with his words, then used one of his stubbier hands to push a curl behind the shell of Jisung’s ear. Afterward, he used the same hand to begin petting the back of Jisung’s head—an amused smile on his face.

“I was just thinking, Binnie. What’s up?”

“Did you not hear our Alexa? She said a package arrived. I was asking you if you ordered anything?”

“Ahhhh, did Alexa say that? She must be running low on battery.”

“Jisungie. She plugs into the wall.”

“..Right. Well, you should know by now what it is hyung! Did you think I’d forget your skirts?”

Feeling more bashful than before, Changbin looked down while smiling like a fool. Even though he loved the spoiling and pampering from his boyfriend, he’d never say it out loud—but Jisung could read him like a book.

“Yeobo.. you know you don’t have to buy me new ones every few weeks. I never wear them out in public anyways.”

Changbin spoke with a pout on his face. He felt guilty getting so many pretty skirts and never having the confidence to wear them out of the house. He wanted people to see them—he wanted people to see how much Jisung loved him.

A gentle hand meeting his cheek brought the older out of his thoughts. Jisung’s thumb rubbed the soft skin as he felt heat rising under it. When Changbin was blushing prettily like this for him, he couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that’d spread across his face.

“Doesn’t matter. I think you look perfect in every single one. And you feel happy in your skirts, right Binnie?”

Softly sighing, Changbin pressed his cheek further into Jisung’s hand, causing the apple of his cheek to squish against his palm. Jisung giggled at this, which in turn caused Changbin to as well. The sound alone reminded Jisung of wedding bells, but that was a thought for later.

“I’ll take that as a yes. While you finish drying, I’ll go and get the skirts! When I get back, you should give me a little fashion show~”

——————A few minutes later——————

Jisung returned to the bedroom holding the box of skirts as Changbin turned his attention to it. The other had simply changed into his briefs, prepared to get himself in a skirt soon. With a pleased smile, he broke the distance between them and began undoing the ribbon that tied the package together.

A soft gasp left Jisung’s boyfriend, which surprised him. Normally he was much louder than—

“AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! YOU DIDN’T!!!!! YAAAAAAAH!!!!”

Jisung’s hands had clamped over his ears, eyes screwed shut as he laughed. While Changbin let out happy noises and giggles, the younger was internally gushing at how overjoyed his boyfriend was. Jisung was sure they’d receive a noise complaint, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. When he saw Changbin excitingly putting on the mesh skirt, it felt like an invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Nothing felt better than making the other so happy.

Anything and everything he’d been stressing out over the past two weeks disappeared from his mind simply because of how happy his boyfriend looked. He’d remember them all tomorrow, but now—he felt free. Free to indulge in his lover’s happiness.

“Do you like them, jagi? I’ve been keeping it a secret!”

“Aish, how could you keep this from me?! They’re beautiful, just like the day I saw them online!”

“You know, I couldn’t have done it without you. We make a good team!”

“..What do you mean, Sung-ah?”

“Remember when you forgot your laptop hyung? I saw the site from there!”

“..Yah. So you spied on my laptop?”

“In the name of love! And romance! Romance isn’t dead! I kept it alive all by myself for the past 3 days, I swear!”

“You’re too funny sometimes... I’m just kidding, yeobo—that doesn’t bother me!”

“Oh thank god.. I thought I was in trouble.”

“Even if you were, how could I be mad when I look this good in the skirt you bought me?”

Jisung’s gaze lowered from Changbin’s face to the skirt he’d put on first, watching his boyfriend playfully wiggling his hips. Was it normal to find someone so cute and sexy all at once? The younger felt his lips parting to speak, but nothing came out as Changbin quickly motioned for Jisung to leave the room, claiming he had to grab something as a surprise for him.

“A surprise for me? Hyung, are you trying to one-up me?!”

“Don’t say something like that! I’m just returning the favor, that’s all. I’ve had them for a while anyways...”

Jisung tilted his head, curious about what his boyfriend could be referring to. However, Changbin gave him a look that meant “If you don’t leave now, I’ll make you leave” which was hot in theory, but he also didn’t feel like getting pushed out of their shared bedroom—so he exited on his own accord. When he returned, Jisung felt his jaw go slack.

Changbin was sitting on the bed wearing the cream skirt Jisung had bought him over his black briefs and a pair of white thigh-highs. Jisung’s mouth went dry as he took the view in, still not used to how cute his boyfriend looked wearing the clothing. Changbin’s legs were already gorgeous and thick, but the soft material of the thigh-highs stretching over his tanned skin and hugging his plush thighs was enough to send Jisung into cardiac arrest.

“You look like a dream.”

“Wanted to put the skirt on for you, Sungie. Wanted to look pretty when you came back.”

Changbin all but batted his eyelashes, even as Jisung walked closer to the bed. Using both hands, Jisung gently separated his boyfriend’s legs to give himself more access. One by one he placed kiss after kiss along the flesh of Changbin’s inner thighs, his hands smoothing up and down the outer sides. He could feel a subtle squirm here and there, which only filled Jisung with the confidence he needed.

Jisung carefully filled the space between them, one of his hands holding the back of Changbin’s head as he pressed their lips together, hovering over him. Once the older’s hands met his waist, Jisung deepened the kiss, free hand splayed against Changbin’s back. The hand that took solace in his curls began to tug, causing his boyfriend to whine softly as their lips parted. He knew it was time for him to make his baby feel good.

“So fucking gorgeous...”

He mumbled against Changbin’s plump lips, taking the bottom one between his teeth. Jisung gently laid the other against the bed, his hands moving to squeeze at his chest. Mewling and whining underneath him, Binnie was looking gorgeous—large muscles all for show. It was so sexy knowing that Changbin could overpower him at any second, but that he chose to submit so beautifully underneath Jisung every time.

Jisung gently licked a stripe between Changbin’s pecs, hands continuing their ministrations until he took a nipple into his mouth. A soft gasp left his boyfriend, Changbin’s lips performing a perfect “o” shape as his eyelashes fluttered. The younger couldn’t help the wetness of his lips as he pulled away, looking like a man possessed.

“Fuck.. feels like these tits were made for my mouth, hyung. Are they mine..? They’re mine, yeah?”

He pressed a kiss to the nipple he’d finished sucking on, then moved to Changbin’s other pec. Underneath him, his boyfriend could barely answer the question asked to him with a strained “Mhm..” The pleased noises escaping Changbin were a sign that it was time for Jisung to go further.

If Changbin hadn’t been able to answer fully before, Jisung pulling off his skirt and briefs and then taking him into his mouth had left him speechless. The lips around his cock sent a shiver down his spine, his toes curling in response as well. Jisung had Changbin throbbing between his legs, his strong hands gripping the bed sheets beside him. Moans escaped the older left and right, feeling debauched and at Jisung’s disposal.

“M’gonna cum, Sung-ah... Binnie’s gonna cum.”

Jisung hummed around his shaft as Changbin whined, feeling like he’d see stars soon because of how good the other made him feel. The fact that Jisung was still fully clothed in front of him somehow made it even sexier in the older’s eyes. He screwed them shut after the realization, doll lips so pretty and pink as they formed moan after moan. Jisung continued to swirl his tongue, sucking Changbin through until his orgasm.

With a huff, Changbin’s hips jolted several times before cumming into Jisung’s mouth. The younger was plenty prepared to take every drop while his boyfriend writhed on the bed sheets. While swallowing, Jisung gulped down Changbin’s load and pulled back, a groan leaving his lips.

“Hyung.. you look fucking delicious. Need to be in you... need my jagi filled with my cock.”

His voice was croaky, making Jisung sound so desperate for him that it took Changbin’s breath away. Quickly, the younger began pulling his clothes off and wriggling out of his underwear, revealing how hard and dripping with precum he was. Changbin gasps at the sight, eyes trained on his boyfriend as Jisung reaches into the nightstand for lube and begins coating his fingers. When his attention turned back to Changbin, a smirk was plastered across his face.

“You like being filled up.. right Binnie?”

[sim-songs]

sim-songs brain rot dump

you know those wax melts that smell real good? I just lit one and fucking had to blow out the candle after like, fifteen minutes bc the *good* smell gets too overwhelming for me otherwise smh

i've been pretty consistently not feeling well for over a month now. i'm going to a endocrinologist in october but in the meantime i'm shitting my pants about the possibility of some undiagnosed chronic illness, that would not be good ™️

on the other hand i've been doing well mental health wise (see above for physically lmao) and slowly getting off of all my pills from the last few years. the one i've been on the longest is the last one to go, i've started taking a lowered dose and then another lowered dose in two months and then I will theoretically be medication free in the depression department for the first time i... god like maybe 7 or 8 years???

and yes i do worry that me feeling ill is because i'm coming off those meds and that it's all one big fluke and also that I've been making it all up anyway and making a big deal out of nothing, but i'm so over that part of my psyche fighting me *for now lol

anyway, i've been fine, all things considered. I'd rather have physical symptoms and pain than the awful mental stuff so I'd choose this any day, but both being fine would probably be even better ya know?

and as an aside, y'all are not readyyyyy for this goddamn wedding. i feel like i have hosted the olympics in sims wedding version, because of the cute shit in my queue that will start posting soon enough 😈 lookbooks for both brides are ofc included hehe

[wishitweresummer]

A Ticklish Discovery

Day 1 - First Time

Word count: 1545

It’s here!! My lee!GeorgeSummer is here!!! I’m so excited!!! I hope you guys all have fun!! 💙💙

Here’s part two!

George glared at Sapnap as he creeped backwards out of the room. He tried to say everything he wanted to through his eyes before realizing he could mute his mic.

“I’m gonna kill you Sapnap.”, he shouted.

“I’ll just tickle you.”, Sapnap said before darting down the hall out of sight. George screamed in frustration.

He turned back to his stream to see his cheeks were splotchy with embarrassment. The chat was filling with excitement over getting to see George lose his composure over Sapnap running in and tickling him on stream. He shook his head and unmuted.

“He just scared me. It isn’t a big deal.”, he huffed. His eyes tracked the chats talking about how he squealed from Sapnap grabbing his sides. “Shut up…”, he murmured. He shook the mouse and tried to get his head back in the game. He had been practicing Bed Wars, but was now just staring at a wall in the lobby. He clicked into a queue and tried to focus.

It was hard with the heat climbing down his neck and it was even harder when there was a flash of movement in the corner of his vision. Instinctively, he clamped his arms to his sides. The memory of Sapnap’s fingers suddenly digging in haunted his nerves. He turned his head slightly and saw Dream hovering in the doorway.

The look on his face was a mix of curiosity and jealousy. ‘Shit.’, he thought. Dream had definitely been watching his stream. In his peripheral vision he saw Dream pull out his phone, only to get a Discord notification a second later.

George had been in the house for about a month now. Still, every day it felt like Dream was studying him and trying to absorb as much George as he could.

There were a few more pings and George shook his head, furious Dream had apparently sent him a message in the group instead of dms. He silenced his phone and blew out a puff of air. He ignored the curious chat and tried his hardest to lock in on the game.

~•~

George aimed his raid for Bad’s stream and logged off quickly. His stomach was buzzing with nervous butterflies at the whole situation and it was so stupid. Who cares that stream saw Sapnap tickle him? Like, everyone’s ticklish. Chat barely even talked about it for that long. And a few annoying donations. And…he looked down at his phone. Those Discord pings from earlier echoed in his mind. The worst was probably actually yet to come.

Dream

What was that?

Sap

He’s so ticklish

Dream

Oh my god

George where are you ticjkish

Ticklish*

Sap

Def his sides

Very ticjkish

Dream

Shut up Nick

Ticklish

AwwwWWW!!!

George!!!!!

Sap

Gogyyy!!

So ticklishhhh!!!!

Dream

Get off streammmmm

Sap

Yeahhhh get offfff

George frowned down at his phone. Yeah, definitely not good. Sapnap, he could probably fight off pretty well. But Dream was a different story. He barely held back a shudder thinking of those giant hands holding him down. He checked his computer to make sure he wasn’t on stream. He was tense and jumpy.

George

Fuck you guys

He sent off the message and muted the notifications for the groupchat. ‘Idiots.’.

He wasn’t that sure what to do. He leaned towards the door and listened for any noises, but if there was anything it was too faint. Sapnap had already streamed earlier in the afternoon and Dream hadn’t told him his plans for the day.

Sudden realization set in. George eyed his phone and cursed himself for sending that message. The other two could have already forgotten about it! And then he instigated them!

George jumped out of his chair and rushed towards his door to close it, but crashed into a body before reaching it. Large hands steadied his shoulders and his stomach dropped in realization. Ice cold fear straightened his spine. He tried to speak, but he was breathless as Dream pinned him with a smirk.

“Fuck me?”, he growled.

In a flash, Dream had George thrown over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. George shrieked in terror as he was spun around and carried down the hallway.

“Dream!! Dream!! Let me down!!!”, he screamed as he pounded against Dream’s back. He felt so small, being carried like a child. Dream didn’t even flinch at his hits. He struggled and kicked, but didn’t go anywhere. “I’m sorry!”, he tried. That got a chuckle out of him.

“Wow…”, Dream muttered, amused. George didn’t apologize often.

George was tossed onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. He scrambled to sit up, but his wrists were collected before he could pull himself up.

“Dream!”, he yelled.

“Take these.”, Dream ignored him, passing the trapped wrists to Sapnap. George fell back and his arms were pulled up towards the arm of the couch.

The reality of how helpless he was hit him like a brick. Words escaped him as he looked between Sapnap behind him holding his wrists and Dream climbing on top of him.

“Guys…”, he said softly. Sapnap laughed and Dream huffed in amusement.

“Yeah?”, Dream asked.

“Please?”, he tried again.

Dream grinned and dropped his hands against George’s stomach. The boy squealed loudly and flopped back against the couch. The two laughed at him.

“I’m not even doing anything!”, Dream shook his head.

“Poor Gogy.”, Sapnap said affectionately and rubbed at his wrists. “So ticklish.”.

“I hate you!”, he spat out through a flurry of uncontrollable giggles. His face burned with the embarrassment of his overreaction.

A real guttural scream tore from his throat as Dream suddenly dug all ten fingers into his sides.

“Whoa!”.

“Oh my god!”.

George gasped for words, but chaotic laughter spilled free. He kicked and squealed and squirmed, but he was trapped. God, he hadn’t been tickled in so long. Dream’s fingertips were playing with the ticklish nerves mercilessly. Both boys watched in awe as he completely lost his mind.

So embarrassing to be helpless and out of control. The tickles just took him over completely and were so completely unbearable. The need to beg and scream for mercy was there, but George couldn’t get it out.

He threw his head back with a desperate cry as Dream teased his fingers up against his ribs. He cackled like a witch, making the other two laugh.

“That’s worse?”, Sapnap asked, full of amusement. George jolted like he was being electrocuted and a wild hysterical laugh shook his entire body. Tears ran down his burning cheeks, finally stopping Dream’s tickles.

“Georgie…”, he murmured with a smile. The two looked at each other over George’s squirmy form. “God, he’s fucking ticklish.”.

The boy whined through his gaspy giggles. He couldn’t find the words yet, but he shook his head in protest. Sapnap kept his wrists pinned up and Dream wiped his face of tears.

“You went crazy!”, Sapnap giggled.

“Who knew I just had to tickle you to shut you up.”.

“I don’t know Dream, he was pretty fucking loud.”, Sapnap quipped back.

“You’re both dead…” George murmured, finally a little recovered. He flopped his head to the side and sighed.

“What?!”, Dream boomed, turning and grabbing George’s thigh. The boy shrieked and tugged Sapnap hard enough to pull him forward a little. “What did you say to me??”. George burst into frantic laughter. His leg shook under the ticklish touch. Dream felt around for a sensitive spot and grinned wolfishly when George let out a piercing scream.

“Sorry sorry sorry!!!”, he squealed out the words. Dream only shook his head as he crawled his hand further up the ticklish thigh. “Please!”.

“Where aren’t you ticklish, George?”, Sapnap asked. Dream grinned over at him before grabbing at George’s hips. The boy threw his head back and wailed with laughter.

“You’re just ticklish everywhere, huh?”, Dream asked in a baby voice. His curious fingers crawled up George’s stomach and teased at the muscles. George squealed helplessly. The fingers continued a ticklish path up and pressed into his pecs, shaking them in carefully to make him shriek.

“No more!”, he cried. His laughter grew more desperate and the devious fingers crawled higher. “No!!”. Dream dipped his fingertips under George’s shirt sleeves and teased against his armpits. The boy jolted and squeaked before frantic laughter shook through him.

In desperation, he knee’d Dream in the back as hard as he could. The move nearly knocked the wind from him.

“Okay okay!”, Dream laughed and lifted his arms away from George’s shaking body.

The giggles were endless, wracking through George’s chest against his will. The butterflies fluttered around inside, unable to calm down.

“That was a little brutal.”, Sapnap giggled.

“He’s so cute like this…”, Dream grinned up at him.

~•~

George was too tired and nervous to fight back. He demanded cuddles as soon as he could find his voice and promised his revenge would be harsh.

“I’ll make you cry…”, he murmured softly into Sapnap’s shoulder. He tugged Dream’s arm closer to his chest. “You’ll be…like screaming. Dying. I’ll tickle you…so bad.”. He faded to sleep before the boys could even find a stream to put on the TV.

“Yeah, real scary.”, Sapnap whispered to Dream with an eye roll. They both giggled.

[eggcompany]

Jaskier and Mr.-Zero-Fucking-Body-Fat

Jaskier woke up in a mood. A bad kinda mood. A self hating mood. Thank goodness he has an awesome boyfriend.

Geralt was coming back to the apartment when Jaskier was getting up. Geralt had gone on a morning run and grabbed donuts on his way back. When he walked into the bedroom to get a shower he saw his boyfriend standing in front of their mirror. Shirtless and frowning as he grabbed at his stomach. Jaskier had been up for a little while now. He woke up in a mood.

He hadn’t gotten dressed yet. He was still wearing what he sleeps in, a pair of soft cotton short shorts. He just stood staring at himself.

“Fat. Ugly. Hairy. Gross. Gross. Bleh. Fat fat fat. Lose some weight. Undesirable. Disgusting. Cover up. Cover it. Don’t eat tod-“

“Hey baby, how about we get a shower?” Geralt said to try and pull Jaskier away from those intrusive thoughts. Geralt knew about Jaskier and his body image issues. Geralt came up behind his lover and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s sternum.

Jaskier laid his head back onto Geralt’s shoulder and took a big breathe, clearing his head. He held it for a moment before breathing out.

“No thank you, dear. I’ll get a shower after you get out. You can eat breakfast while I wash up.” Jaskier removed Geralt’s hands. He just wanted to put in his sweatpants and his oversized hoodie and just not be seen. Especially not by Mister Zero-Fucking-Body-Fat.

“I’ll make you breakfast Jask. You can go back to bed if you’d like. We can have a lazy day.” Geralt said as he ran his hand down Jaskier back before he turned to the bathroom.

“Thank you, love.” Jaskier sighed. God that man will be the death of him. Jaskier grabbed his hoodie and his sweats and a clean pair of underwear. He heard Geralt start the shower.

A short while later Geralt came out with a towel around his hips and quickly put on his sweatpants and a black shirt that wasn’t too snug. He knew he should wear looser clothes when Jask was in these moods.

“You get a shower and I’ll bring you breakfast in here. If you want to you could queue something up?” Geralt kissed his boyfriends forehead before leaving.

Jaskier got to the bathroom and tried not to look in the mirror. He quickly took off his shorts and got in the shower.

He washed as quickly as he could so he could get covered back up. He didn’t even wash his hair.

Soon he was in his sweats and hoodie and back on bed queuing up a show on Netflix.

Geralt walked in with a tray of food. Nothing that would bother Jaskier. Mostly cut fruit and yogurt.

“Here. C’mere I wanna hold you. Love you so much. My pretty perfect loverboy.” Geralt said as he held his arms open for Jaskier to cuddle to him. Jaskier cracked a smile at ‘loverboy’.

“You sure you want me too...” Jaskier looked down at himself.

“Yes Jask come here. I always wanna hug and cuddle you” Jaskier nodded and laid his back against Geralt’s chest and sat between his legs, tray of food in his lap.

They started to play Evil on Netflix and Jaskier ate a bit of this and that, not nearly enough.

“Want me to feed you, baby bear?”

“What did you just call me?” Jaskier turned to see Geralt’s face.

“Baby Bear. ‘Cause your cuddly and perfect and you’re my precious baby bear.” Geralt said very matter of factly.

Jaskier blushed and nodded.

Geralt picked up a piece of banana and held it up for Jaskier.

That’s how the morning went. Geralt feeding his baby bear pieces of fruit and spoons of yogurt while Jaskier smiled and fell even more in love with his boyfriend.